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gapsbetweenlovers · 1 year

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the way to his heart: part three

——

The brazen question Carmen just posed nearly sends you into cardiac arrest. Your heart suffers an emotional beating during the ensuing silence you offer him. Pangs, punches, and paralyzing shockwaves complicate your breathing pattern and render you speechless.

What's the other option?

Well, given that Carmen is taking your reticent reaction with a downward tug of humiliation on his lips and an awkward clearing of his throat, you suppose you could dwell on the logistics of his question while he patiently, albeit pitifully, lingers in your drawn-out bewilderment. You should stutter out some sort of coherent response, anything, but your unintended form of slow torture is kind of what he deserves for springing such an abrupt change of pace on you after months of radio silence.

Option #1: Take him home like you originally planned to. You still remember where he lives since the brain doesn't allow people to forget places once suffused with painful memories. Despite the strange feelings that would no doubt be dug up if you saw the lonely place in which he hides himself, the overall process would be harmless and devoid of muddling things any further. It's simple — You can drop him off, and if he invites you inside, you will politely decline and soften the blow with a parting embrace that could be the last one.

Option #2: Give credence to what he's insinuating. Or, at least, what you think he's insinuating. He... wants to kiss you, right? The closeness in which he currently sits next to you is too warm and inviting to be solely a coincidence. And he's been staring at you differently all day, his sunken blue eyes holding your gaze so intensely, it's like they're trying to tell you something he can't quite verbalize himself. Then there's his lips. You had the gift of making them lift into a smile more than once today, and whenever they did that remarkable thing, it was hard not to imagine kissing them greedily.

Basically, there's a safe option and a this-could-potentially-ruin-everything option.

You stare at Carmen's side profile in deep contemplation, weighing the two hypothetical outcomes of such an unexpected end to your night. And he was the one to initiate it, which is mind-boggling in itself. This emotionally distant man you've held onto in hopes he'd let his defenses down is now suddenly creating an opening to fully love him again after an excruciating wait.

Then again, you could be totally wrong. Maybe the other option Carmen is thinking of involves you leaving him alone on the beach so he can smoke and wallow in his woe.

"I can drive you home, so you don't have to take the bus," Carmen says quietly, the sound of the ocean waves almost overpowering the dejected tone in his voice. You notice it anyway. He's ashamed he let himself become so vulnerable, but he should know by now that that's all you could ever ask of him.

"No, stay," you insist, grabbing his arm before he can begin fleeing the scene. Panic surges in your chest. "Stay and talk to me. You were doing so good."

Carmen shakes his head a little. "Doesn't matter what I have to say," he murmurs while anxiously tapping his thumb on his knee. If only he had a spoon to occupy his fidgeting fingers.

"I care about every word that comes out of your mouth."

When his gaze shifts to yours for a split second, he appears mentally tormented. "Why are you so empathetic toward me?"

"Because it's what you need," you say gently. "Plus, believe it or not, empathy can help with the healing process."

Carmen shrugs semi-passively. "I guess."

Silence transpires. It's challenging to carry out a fruitful conversation when he sets up mental blockades in fear of wandering into sensitive territory. You don't ever attempt to knock them over, though. Patience is a virtue, and you know he'll one day find the means to reopen his wounds in his own time and allow himself to experience grief in all its raw, unpredictable glory.

The misery of grief is that there's no endpoint. It's a never-ending cycle that only wears a person down over time. It may get easier as the seasons change, but it always lies in wait like a predator camouflaged in the tall grass, ready to ambush and tear open the flesh of wounds you thought were healed.

Just when you're about to speak again, Carmen, with that broken look in his eyes, asks, "Do you remember Mikey's funeral?"

Caught off guard, you tilt your head curiously and reply, "Yeah, of course I do. Why?"

——

Carmen looked devastatingly handsome in his black tuxedo and matching bowtie. He stood next to his parents and sister in the funeral home while a long line of people offered their sympathies one by one. You observed from afar, watching him give fake smiles and handshakes. There was inconceivable grief simmering underneath the surface, and the bags under his eyes were sorrowful enough to show he was hurting deep in his bones.

His hands were calloused and restless. His soul was shattered and bereaved.

When you finally approached Carmen as the last person in line, the tears you forcibly kept settled in your waterline spilled over with a gut-wrenching amount of condolence. You saw Carmen blink abruptly like he was lost in an insensate stupor and flinch back to the present before you were thrust into his arms. He didn't cry. There were no choked breaths or sniffles, no drops of wetness on his skin. He was hollow.

You, however, were inconsolable and filled to the brim with mournfulness. Sobs racked your body, and you tried to keep them as quiet as possible, but the ache in your throat needed too much release. Carmen softly shushed you as you wept, one of his hands reaching up to cup the back of your head while the other wrapped around your trembling shoulders.

You should have been the one comforting him. You loved Mikey dearly but had only known him for a fleeting time. Carmen grew up with him. They were brothers together, and they didn't get to say goodbye. Why were you the one falling apart?

"I'm sorry," you managed to vocalize, giving him weak solace. "I'm so sorry, Carmy."

He took a deep breath that seemed to drain everything out of him, then exhaled tiredly into your hair. "So am I."

——

"I didn't shed a single tear that day," Carmen says, a shaky, self-deprecating sigh escaping him. "And I-I thought about that for a long time after. Felt really guilty."

"Everyone grieves differently. You were numb and hadn't processed it yet."

"But he was my brother. And there was just... nothing. Complete emptiness."

"Don't beat yourself up over it. I'm a very sensitive person," you admit matter-of-factly. "It doesn't take much for me to get emotional."

"I know." He swipes back a gold-tinged curl that fell over his forehead. "God, I know, and it fascinates me."

"It fascinates me too. I'm pretty sure I've cried over a sunset before.

Carmen gawks at you like you just confessed to a prison-worthy crime. "What? Seriously?"

You grin, admiring the moon and how it reflects off the rippling lake. "There's nothing quite like a Midwestern sunset. Sometimes, they're so breathtaking that I just sit and tear up over how beautiful this world can naturally be. How lucky are we to collectively experience such a spectacle? And it's different every day. Imagine how dull Earth would be if we were handed the same sky repeatedly."

He accepts your random soliloquy by pursing his lips and nodding slowly. "Heard."

"Anyway, I used to despise how sensitive I was. It took a lot of time and effort to embrace my fragility. But now I'm glad simple things like a sunset can trigger those emotions and make me feel alive."

You've learned that being sensitive is not a weakness. The inner strength and intuition that comes with feeling things profoundly have led you far in life. Now, you can hopefully guide Carmen, who's lost in a labyrinth of his own affliction, to the same place.

"I think maybe... you're my sunset?" It leaves his mouth as an uncertain question, and a disgusted grimace quickly overtakes his face. "Wow, that's the lamest thing I've ever said. Never mind. Jesus Christ."

All at once, your heart pounds, expands, and takes flight. This is what you've always craved from Carmen, this soft side that seldom sneaks out. His cheeks are flushed with adorable chagrin, and the correct choice between your two options is so fucking obvious.

"Just kiss me if you're gonna say stuff like that."

Carmen's eyebrows rise higher than the goddamn exosphere. Good. It's his turn to be sent into cardiac arrest. You don't know how you expect him to react to your boldness. Right now, he's looking dangerously close to the vicinity of your lips with the slightest hint of a smile.

Then he laughs and says, "You're such a dork."

"Well, am I—"

Two of his fingers are suddenly hooked under your chin, and before you can take your next breath, he lurches forward and connects his lips to yours, shutting you up in arguably the most effective way possible. Your nose slides perfectly in place beside his, and your hands travel to the sturdy slope of his shoulders. You hang on tight, scared to let him go. He needs this. You need this. It's been too long since the last kiss. The last one was painful and left seeds of sadness in the grooves of your soul.

Carmen's lips are chapped, but you quickly mend them by delicately parting his mouth using your tongue. The instant taste of cigarettes and oranges makes you groan with pleasure, and Carmen slides his tongue over yours, drinking your sounds. It's muscle memory the way you move with him — the physical dance of romance, the push and pull of sensuality. It leaves you longing for more when he eventually retreats his touch to get some air into his lungs.

Your skin ignites as you chase after more of his affection. Carmen's mouth ends up near your ear, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress. "Missed you," he whispers, swallowing thickly. "I didn't mean to cut you out of my life. I love you. I do."

The hug you give him speaks a thousand truths. "It's okay, Carmy. Shit happens. You're working through it."

He hums in agreement. "And, uh... thanks for not giving up on me. I know I'm a bitch to deal with, but having you here makes me want to be better."

You kiss his warm cheek, then stand and offer him a hand. "We're turning over a new leaf starting tomorrow. You and I have some serious things to discuss — the prospect of therapy, your concerning smoking addiction, and the status of our relationship, just to name a few."

"All right, boss." Carmen slides his hand in yours and hoists himself up with a groan. He then pats his lower back. "Piggyback. C'mon."

You don't hesitate to climb on his back, snugly wrapping your arms and legs around his buff frame. It's awfully familiar. Back in New York, on his rare nights off work, you'd both get wasted and stumble out of bars or clubs with you clinging onto his back because you didn't want to walk in your heels, and you'd rather not walk barefooted on the filthy streets. He'd carry you wherever he felt like, the city alive with neon lights and the darkness failing to catch up. It was a time when you could both forget about the crushing reality of life.

"So, where does kissing fall on your list of things we need to discuss?" Carmen asks, effortlessly hauling you toward his car.

The moon should be envious of how brightly and beautifully you smile. "Oh, we can get a head start on that right now."

When his blissful laugh echoes around Chicago, the grief slowly becomes replaced by a swelling wave of catharsis.

——

#the bear fanfic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto #the bear #jeremy allen white

271 notes · View notes

noffy96 · 11 months

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Errink fic: What death takes from us Chapter 2

Well, so far the poll is voting for today...but night has passed for me so it's technically tomorrow? So both sides win? Next time I will think a bit harder on that poll, it was a bit spur of the moment XD

But here it is Chapter 2! And i am quite proud of it. so everyone go enjoy

What death takes from us:

Painfull struggles:

Word count: 9166

Chapter (2/3) (In process)

(previous chapter)

Chapter Summary:

Ink is hiding, how much he is struggling with the current situation. He doesn't want Error to know how much he misses that he could simply touch him. But one phone call might just change all that.

Link here to AO3

Or continue below the read-more line

He dipped the brush in the glob of yellow and continued to paint. He had been at it for hours. This was the third painting of the day, and at this point, his mind had zoned out. His body just continued on autopilot.

The quiet was nice. It won't last. But it was nice. He tried to ignore all the different colors bubbling under the surface trying to come up and take hold of him once more.

He just wanted to enjoy the moment of calm for as long as it lasted, having been way too frenzied even for his own liking. But today was a day off. Error was hanging out with Blue and Lust, finally able to catch up on Undernovela after the crazy months they had just had.

A soft smile came over his face as a bit of pink flooded his system. He was sure he was gonna hear all about it later.

There was a buzzing sound, and he looked down at his phone. He had forgotten it was here. He had been listening to some podcast of sorts, but he didn’t know when that had stopped. He checked the screen. It read ‘Dream calling’. A burst of yellow and blue came to the surface, and with some fumbling, he accepted the call and put him on speaker, so he could continue his work.

“Heya Dream, it’s been a while.”

“Ink…you saw me two days ago,” Dream said with a sigh.

He blinked surprised staring at the screen for a second when a memory came to him. Of himself, Blue, and Dream helping out in Outertale. Something about people being stuck on asteroids.

“Ah, you are right, my bad.”

“So…uh…how have things been with you and Error?” Dream asked awkwardly.

The blue took over the yellow, and everything around him seemed to dim in color.

“No updates…still the same, just like last month…and the month before that…and the month before that…”

He was trying to sound neutral. Which he normally did without a problem. But now…it felt like there was a hint of bitterness in his own tone.

Error’s death had really set things back for them. They didn’t have an incident quite like the one on the first day he returned. But even standing close to his boyfriend made the glitches spring up.

“I am…sorry to hear that…”

He gave an answering hum. It might be the slight static coming through the phone, but he wasn’t sure if Dream fully meant what he said.

Dream and Error never really got on. He knew his Glitchy could care less about Dream.

But Error cared enough for him to not be a total asshole about it. He just grumble a bit, and it wasn’t like he would force Error to change.

They didn’t like each other. It wasn’t a big deal, Both of them could set aside their anger if it really came down to it.

Well, he hoped so anyway.

His own relationship with his former best friend was…Strained to say the least.

Noticing a mistake in his work, he frowned and went to fix it.

“How is the truce with Nightmare going?” he asked the golden twin.

“I am surprised you remembered”

He gave a shrug the other couldn’t see over the phone.

“But things are going…”

There was a pause in which he heard some rustling like Dream was changing positions.

“Good, I suppose.”

He gave another hum.

“Just not as fast as you hoped?”

“I Guess…, I think…I thought I’d be able to talk more about…you know everything that happened but we mostly just…I dunno”

“Talk business?” he offered.

Dream laughed softly.

“Hit the nail on the head with that one. Dunno what I expected…more I suppose.”

He could almost see the positive guardian shrug.

“Don’t worry, you got all the time in the world to sort things out…I mean, if you could forgive me enough to start talking to me again…well I have no doubts You and your brother can manage as well”

He could feel yellow flow through him, trying to put as much care and sympathy in his voice as possible, probably overshooting it by a bit. The long pause that followed made him worry he had said something wrong.

“I guess so…”

And try as he might he wasn't able to tell what Dreams' tone meant. So before another long pause would come he decided to quickly change subjects.

“So how's your break? Gone anywhere fun?“

He asked vaguely remembering Blue having mentioned going somewhere with Dream. As he cleaned his brush and now dipped it in a vibrant red.

“...feeling less like punishment...” Dream stated hesitantly “ I am sure you heard from Blue?”

“That he caught you trying to increase the Au’s positivity, when you were off duty. Yes, I did. I think he mentioned it along with lecturing me for the same thing?” He said with a laugh

“Are…you really that stressed..?”

Blinking at the question. Feeling his eyes' shapes change several times, pulling away from the canvas.

“Guess so?...dunno…?”

He felt blue and purple start to mix but it wasn’t making him sad…more anxious. But for what he wasn’t sure.

“Just don’t push yourself too hard okay, We don’t want what happened to Error to happen to you.”

He took in a quick gasp and quickly shook his head. Trying to get rid of the unwanted image that popped into his head. Quickly grabbing some more paint, some of it dripping of the brush and onto his toes as he brought it back to the canvas.

“Awww! You do still care about me after all.”

His voice sounded wrong, too much-forced cheer. When he wasn’t feeling any of it, in the way the yellow was coming through, over the much stronger purple he tried to swallow down

“I never stopped idiot. ''

Dream snapped back loudly, and he fell silent. Feeling various shades of blue. Dream had sounded hurt. He had just meant it as a fun tease

“Sorry..”

He mumbled automatically and he heard Dream let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s…it’s fine…I know you didn’t…”

There was another long pause.

“I shouldn’t have shouted” Dream finished eventually.

A guilty feeling welled up inside of him. Having an inkling that what he just heard, was something that was in some way concerning even if he couldn't pinpoint why. Feeling slightly frustrated at his memory failing him.

“You…are allowed to be Upset at me..”

He said tentatively. He knows he isn’t the easiest to deal with. And Dream has forgiven a lot from him. Small and big things. They wouldn’t have been together for as long as they had if Dream hadn’t. It had come with its own pitfalls. And he can see the mistakes and unhealthy balance that was their past relationship. He was sure Dream saw them too.

It was painful in a way. Knowing you had unintentionally hurt someone you cared quite deeply for. He would never say that he regretted his past relationship with Dream But now, he can say with much more clarity that he rather just be friends.

That is why he wants to fix it. Try and talk like the immortal adults they are. It was hard on both of them. Dream had a particularly nasty few months behind him. Where he was lashing out more and more. Dream had been forced into a mold. One that he had sometimes helped build, and he was glad to see his former Lover freer. Even with the nasty side effects. Dream was allowed to be angry at him.

Reconnecting with Nightmare was also a good sign. The two of them having these regular phone calls helped too. It might be a long while until they could hang out like old friends again. But they got time, and he was looking forward to that day.

Dream sighed deeply.

“You…are right…..But I didn’t need to lash out..” The other mumbled.

He gave the phone a smile.

“You’re forgiven.“

Dream let out a small laugh, then the sound of another voice sounded distantly over the phone.

“Mnn? With Who?...yeah that is okay, be sure to let me know when you come back”

Dream said to whoever was on the other end. And he felt excitement grow inside of him. There were only a few people that hung around Dreams house.

He picked up the phone and in his rush dropped his small paintbrush to the floor.

“Is that Pallete?! Can you say Hi for me?! “

Dream made a sound like a wince,

Oops he didn’t mean to shout, but then he heard something from the background then Dream going

“Yes it is, he says hi” There was a small pause. “Oh yeah sure…Ink, Pallete wants to talk with you”

More yellow rushed through him making him rock in place.

He was always happy to chat with any of his kids. He knew he wasn’t the best dad. Some might say even one of the worst. But he tries, he honestly does. He knows that with some of them, he might never get a good relationship going.

But Pallete wasn’t one of them, A proper father-son dynamic, he might not get. But Pallete at least didn’t hate him. And he would do his utmost best, to be there for him should he ever need it.

“Dad..?”

The smile on his face grew at hearing the familiar voice.

“Hey, Pal! How are you doing?”

“Good! Um, little question? Think we can move our meeting up a week? I really need to help a friend out.”

The yellow got taken over by blue, and he felt the excitement fade from his voice, no matter how hard he tried to control it. But he swallowed down the sadness and tried to not sound disappointed.

“Oh..of course!, let me just…write down the new date…I don’t wanna forget…So not coming Wednesday….but the one after that, according to OG timeline rules?”

“Mnn Yes, Sorry that I had to change it on such short notice, I just really don’t wanna abandon my friend.”

He smiled Pallete was a good kid. Most likely Dreams influence. As he quickly changed the date on his scarf with his finger.

“Of course not, your old man can wait okay? It will give me more time to set things up”

“Thanks, Dad!, gotta run now. Sorry and bye”

“It is okay, Take care and see you soon”

There was some more rustling, as the phone was handed back hearing Dream say to Pallete

“Have fun at Goths!”

Which made him smile. He had a feeling about who his son was helping out. Maybe Error might know something and could fill him in. Then there was another pause in their conversation.

“Are you okay, Ink?”

He shook his head.

“Yeah…yeah I am fine…was just…looking forward to spending time with him, that’s all”

Dream let out a sympathetic hum.

“Did you write down the new date?”

He could hear the doubt in Dream's voice. And he had to tempt down the small flash of hot anger that wanted to boil up. He wasn’t that much of an idiot.

“Of course, don’t want to forget”

“Please don’t “

His grip on his phone tightened. And he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“Ah sorryIink, I gotta go as well…It was…enjoyable…to talk with you again”

He noticed how the other avoided the word fun. But he would take it.

“I am glad we talked as well Dream. Same time next month?”

“Works for me, hear from you then, if nothing else comes up”

He chuckled at Dream.

“With our job, not gonna happen. But let’s hope the multiverse gives us both a small break”

Dream chuckled as well

“We certainly earned it... Bye Ink”

“Bye Dream”

And then he heard a click and lowered his phone staring pensively at the call-ended screen till it went dark.

He was feeling as conflicted as he always did after his phone call with Dream. A mixture of yellows and purples. Happy he was able to talk with his friend again. Glad it seemed to have gone smoothly.

But also worried. Did he say the wrong thing somewhere? Did he come off as sincere? He sometimes forgot how scared he was of losing his friendship with one of his oldest friends.

He nearly did once, he didn't want it to slip out of his fingers again.

He let out a deep sigh and put his phone aside. Trying to focus on the happy feelings. This was something good, one of the few things that were going well in his life lately. Or it at least felt that way.

He picked up his brush, but he froze when he gazed upon his painting. For the first time, he seemed to actually see what he had been drawing. Having snapped out of his routine. What he had drawn. Was a picture of his own hand holding Error’s.

And his nonexistent soul sank into his stomach. Feelings becoming cloudy.

How many times did that make this? He glanced around the room, seeing other canvases of similar pictures he had been drawing over the last few months.

He had tried to do something different. It felt like he hadn’t even been thinking of Error at all!

But still. There it was in front of him. One of the many things that he and Error still couldn’t do. Error’s death had really fucked him up. It was like his whole body had been reset. But slowly, he was gaining back what he was lost. Able to give fist bumps to Killer. High fives with Blue and Lust. Everyone…except him.

Error tried, but it always seemed to burn. The pain only seemed to increase with every single try. It had gotten so bad. He had to nearly beg Error to stop trying. Not liking the way it kept hurting him. It took a while to convince him. But he did listen…that was a month ago.

It hurt. They had gone years without touching. They still used a lot of techniques they learned from that time. But none of that compared to the real feeling of Error’s fingers between his own. His solid weight as they hugged.

The electrifying way it felt as they kissed.

He missed it…….

He missed it so fucking much. He thought he could live without touching Error again.

But…

Were these paintings, not proof of that NOT being the case?! Everywhere he looked in this room, there seemed to be a picture of them.

Holding hands, cuddling, kissing. Or touching in some kind of way.

What if they never could again? Would….would he get bored?! Would he stop caring for Error? He couldn’t do that. That be horrible. Error meant the world to him. Error let him feel all of this. Let him figure himself out, not force him to be something he is not.

Somehow accepted his soulless state. Didn’t freak out, when he decided to go blank on some days when all the emotions became too much. But yet forcing him to drink if it seems he was depriving himself too much in the other direction.

Error loved him, and it was terrifying.

And how was he repaying that love? By longing for something the other couldn’t give. They were fine. They should be fine. He thought as red anger seemed to consume him.

He loves Error. He didn’t need the other's touch, it was just a few months with no contact. That didn’t compare to the years beforehand. Even for most of their relationship. Touching had just been a recent thing.

It wasn’t fair that it had been taken away from them. The red-hot anger spread, chasing away all other feelings. The picture in front of him came back into focus.

He grabbed Broomie and slashed at the painting, covering it in a dark ink stain.

There.

That is what he deserved. He shouldn’t have these urges. There was nothing in his chest to conquer them. Yet he selflessly made them. What would Error think if he saw them?

He had to destroy them! He didn’t deserve to stare longingly at them!? Error was going through enough without him taking care of his emotionally stunted boyfriend. And he summons more ink to destroy another painting.

The red-hot anger started changing. Darkening into a sludgy black pool of self-hatred, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Destroying more works in his anger and grief, letting a large pool of ink spill over his studio floor, as he knocked over cans of paint and canvases. All the while sobbing and screaming in angry frustration.

Screaming, at the monster that killed Error, at the multiverse in general, but most of all himself, for not keeping his promises.

Of not being enough for his lover.

Eventually, most canvases had either been painted over with black streaks. Lying face down in the ink puddle beneath his feet. Or he had just broken the canvas clean in two.

All that was left was the biggest of them all. A large frame of both him and Error sitting on a swing near a tree. A work combining their first date, and first time holding hands into a single beautiful scene.

It had been a work he was proud of. He had shown it to Error. He even surprisingly suggested he should hang it somewhere in his house. But he hadn’t found the perfect place for it yet.

He looked up at it, a drop of yellow coming in an ocean of black. He raised Broomie above his head, ready to finish it off. When his momentum was suddenly stopped.

He looked up to see Broomie stuck in a multitude of blue strings. With ice-cold fear, he turned around to see Error standing in the door opening arms outstretched. Strings attached to his fingers and A look of panic on his face.

“Ink!?”

And when he heard that voice, so full of concern. Blue colors suddenly and quickly replaced all the black. The red-hot anger was replaced with regret. The Dark self-hatred still lurking below. But now replaced with deep sorrow.

It made him sink to his knees and start openly wailing as the color overtook everything. He tried to stop the tears pressing his hands against his face, furiously wiping it. But every sob tore another from his body.

“S-soory…i am sorry Error…forgive me…please…please”

He started rambling, trying to get his emotions under control. But instead, he felt his insides turn, and he puked out a large amount of ink.

When he was done, the overwhelming sensation was gone. But the feelings were still there. His throat hurt, but he was letting out soft hiccups instead of sobs at this point. He looked back up. To see Error hovering close by in front of him. Arms outstretched like he had wanted to grab him. Frustrating, clear in his eyes.

“S-sorry..” he started again

“It’s okay, Kiki…it’s okay…just…let it all out okay…”

Error took another step closer and he could feel that pulsing heat. That heat seemed to push them apart, like two wrong magnets pushing each other away. He leaned back so that Error would glitch less. Not looking at Error's face, afraid to hurt him further.

Error let out another frustrated sound. Something heavy fell to the floor, probably Broomie. And he felt Errors strings circle his hands. But the mock handheld just made him feel worse. They were so pathetic, not even able to hold hands.

“Ink?”

He shook his head.

“Ink please…talk to me?”

He shook his head harder.

What was there to say? What could he possibly say that wouldn't sound completely insane? He was gonna lose Error. He was gonna figure out he couldn’t live without the touch and was gonna leave him as he should have ages ago. And he be all alone with his thoughts again. Unsure of whoever even ‘himself was’

More strings wrapped around his hands.

“Come on, Squid”

There was a hint of frustration coming through his voice now.

Error would realize that it was no use to spend time on him. That in the last few months he somehow had made more progress with his ex, Than with him. That all of this was a lost cause that he never should have -

Blue strings wrapped around his torso so tightly that he nearly choked. Looking back up and started into Error’s worried eyes. And after a beat or two a realisation seemed to come over Error.

“Have you been swallowing your paints again Kiki?”

He blinked up at the other.

Had he?

He tried to think back.

He remembered maybe once this morning…but that could have been yesterday as well?. He definitely did when he was painting to stay in that calm state he had been in.

Did he do it afterward? Oh…when Pallete came to the phone, he had to swallow down his excitement as well as his disappointment. He thought he had just pushed it down…But that would explain why he was feeling so crappy.

Shit! He might have done it more than once in his conversation with Dream.

“I…didn’t …notice..”

He said through a few sobs. And Error’s strings gently squeezed him.

“It’s alright…come on… let's get you out of this puddle”

The strings started to fall away from his body, almost like they had been arms that had been wrapped around him. That thought made him sob again, and he scrambled for the strings before they could completely disappear... Holding them shakingly between his fingers as he looked up at Error with a desperation he didn’t know under which color to classify

Error’s look of surprise turned into a sad smile, and he mumbled

“Should have known you liked being tied up in my strings”

He laughed wearily at the innuendo. And the strings came back around his torso softly and lifted him up from the middle of the room. Dropping him right below one of the windows. Error plopping down next to him, some space left between them. All the while he stared at the strings connecting them.

“What happened Inky… “

Error asked softly after some minutes of silence in which his sobs finally calmed down, and his emotions seemed to reach another equilibrium

“I think you guessed already, I swall-

“What triggered your outburst,”

He shut his mouth with a click and brought his knees up to his face. Another few minutes of silence

“I saw what I had painted..”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Error tilt his head

“That usually makes you happy.”

He shrugged, he didn’t want to think too hard about it. He might have puked most of his paints out. But not all. And if he indeed had kept swallowing down his paints, they would still be a murky mess inside of him. And didn’t want to trigger another episode

He heard some angry glitches, but Error’s voice stayed calm.

“Did your phone call with Dream affect how you looked at it?”

He shook his head.

“No, that went pretty well,”

He could feel Error’s eyes on him even without looking up, hugging his knees harder

“Are…Are you upset that it went well?” Confusion was clear in his boyfriend's voice.

He wanted to cry again and felt blue trying to come up, He tried to temp it down.

“Hey, Ink stop, don’t fight your paints…not at this time”

His hands started shaking, and shook his head.

Of course, Error noticed. Error knew him.

Even when he forgot who he was himself.

“It’s not fair…” he mumbled softly.

“What…Ink?” Error said confused along with the sounds of soft buzzes of glitches. As another silence fell between them, only filled by his own occasional sob.

He heard some sounds, not able to place them. So he looked up, seeing that Error had dragged one of the destroyed canvasses closer. There wasn’t much left of it, he had smeared pretty big globs of black ink on them, that was now dripping on Error's clothes.

Error seemed to glitch at them, but paid them no mind, rolling up his sleeve and rubbing the ink away with his arm, Eyes widening as he saw what was underneath.

Error's head snapped his way, eyes wide. And dragged another painting close doing the same thing to it.

“What…the fuck Ink.”

He closed his eyes in shame, burying his head back in his legs. He knew Error would hate them. That’s why he didn’t show them, he knew he had been holed up in here more nights than he could count. When Error was with others, or working. He was in here and painted his desires.

The ones he couldn’t act on. That he promised to let rest. And now Error knew, and he would see how he had gone against his word and…

“If you are angry with me you can just Fucking say so, don’t gotta destroy your passion projects over it”

His head shot up, and he looked at Error. Who was looking at the painting with a frown. But not an angry one. No…he…he almost looked. Sad? Then what Error had said seemed to land in his scattered brain and he quickly scrambled up to his knees. Error looking up as he did.

“I ain't angry at you?! …Why?!?!…No..Never, none of this is your fault.”

Error started at him eyes wide,

“Of….course…of fucking course how could I be so fucking stupid”

“W-what?” he asked, suddenly panicking.

The strings around him tighten again,

“I should have known you would be angry at yourself, somehow you always blame everything that goes wrong in our relationship on yourself”

His own eyes widened. And Error leaned closer. He could feel the heat again, but he couldn’t look away. Error was staring right at him. Different colors tried to rise up, but one never could stay, quickly replaced with another. Purple, pink, yellow, blue, green. All of them but he barely noticed only able to focus on his Love

“I thought I had said this before, but if I haven’t let me now. I don’t fucking blame you. For any of this Ink. It aint your fault I died. It aint your fault we can’t touch. It aint your fault that the recovery of it is going at a fucking snail's pace. Got it! None of that is your fault. I don’t fucking blame you, I ain't angry with you. And I am not upset that you miss being able to hold me. I’d be the biggest fucking hypocrite.”

The strings were getting tight enough that they were probably leaving robe burn marks. But he couldn’t care. Could hardly believe what was going on.

“B-but”

“No fucking but’s Ink. Whatever your brain is telling you. It is aint true. I’d kiss you right now to fucking prove it, but I think we both know how that would end”

The sound he let out was between a sob and a laugh. It be such a disaster. The only time they tried was on the first-day Error returned. And the scream the other had let out, still haunts his nightmares. It kept combining with Error’s death in those dreams.

He closed his hands over the strings that ran over his palms, Squeezing them tight, tugging at them. Feeling Error tuck on them as well.

He still felt like crap. And he wanted to believe Error. He so badly wanted to. But he couldn’t seem to get there. There had to be a tipping point. Maybe he didn’t blame him now. But it would not last forever and-

“Ink. Stop it” Error Seemed to read exactly what was going on in his mind.

“I…I can’t” he mumbled. “I wanna believe you Error. I really do..But…but..”

His hands rose to his chest. The part of himself he disliked so much. Where you could see the proof of his soullessness. That part of him that was at the root source of all his problems.

There was another pause and he started at the space between them. He could see Error's knees and realized this must have been the closest Error had been in a month. The thought made him swallow another sob.

“What would make you believe it.”

“Huh?”

He looked up back into Error’s eyes. They held a determined gleam

“Tell me what you need Ink, What would make you believe my word, so I can say it, or do it. Until I can beat it into your skull, and you never doubt me again”

“I….” He paused.

What would make him believe it? What would make him believe that Error didn’t hate him? That Error would stick with this, with them, Or that He would stick with Error? Was there such a thing?

“I don’t k-” he stopped himself.

That felt wrong to say. Here he was demanding proof. But he couldn’t think of anything himself. How was Error supposed to prove it then?

He looked up back at Error’s face. Still looking determined, ready to spring into action. And he wanted to give an answer.

Why was this so difficult, he just wanted Error to be happy. To be loved as much as he deserves.

But he loves Error. And Error wants his love. And was he just…not giving it? If he trusted that Error could love him despite his soulless state. Then why didn’t he believe Error trusted that his soulless self loved Error?

Now that he was thinking about it, it seemed kinda backwards, and selfish. To trust everything Error gave him. But not trust that Error knew that he was loved.

Soft oranges and yellows finally managed to take hold of his body. Error believed in him. He was conceived it wasn’t his fault. He might not fully believe it himself. But he could believe in Error, that did believe that fact.

Error's face shifted as he saw the realization drawn on his own face.

“Knock some sense into me from time to time, that is what you need to do apparently”

Error laughed “I do that for fun any day”

And he couldn’t help his own laugh. The strings on his hands tugged, lifting them to his face, he got the hint and held one of his own cheek in the way Error would.

“I Love you, I don’t hate you, and I don’t blame you. For any of this, And I am sorry if I made you think I did”

He shook his head.

“It’s okay..I…Thank you…I should have told you sooner. That I was feeling all of this. I could have avoided this mess”

Error glanced around the room.

“Nothing we can’t fix”

He raised a brow bone.

“You, fixing things?”

Error gave a fake glare, and he felt his colors latch on to the familiar feeling of seeing it

“Says the Protector that destroyed this room”

But then Error’s eyes turned serious again. Settling back down next to him, if a bit closer than before.

“We do need to find a way to prevent this from happening, for both our sakes I think..”

He gave a nod,

“Yeah only so much can be blamed on me swallowing my ink”

Error nodded. “Wanna do this now, or wait till the murkiness has passed”

He glanced around the room, seeing the black ink everywhere. And he thought back to how he felt. That darkness swallowing him whole. It had been an extreme reaction to the swallowing and mixing of already mixed paint.

As much as he wanted to let it pass and recenter himself.

It was better to deal with this now. Besides everything had mixed up so bad, that at this point he had to go blank to get rid of it all. And who knows what he would remember of this incident afterward.

So with he sigh, he leaned back against the wall.

“Now…but I am unsure of where to start” he started,

The orange and yellows have faded, right now settling on something of a mixture of purple and green.

Error hummed “Gimme a moment to think then.”

Error closed his eyes. And he just spends the time listening to the sounds of his boyfriend's static. Admiring the other as the light from the window hit him Making the blue streaks on his face almost seem to glow.

Error opened his eyes and turned to face him, and he shook his head to get rid of his dreamy thoughts.

“Based on what you said before, were you afraid that me seeing your paintings…would make me hate you?”

He gave a slow nod And there was a frown on the other's face.

“Why? You’ve drawn me more times than I can fucking count, with and without my permission I might add? So why now? “

He gave an embarrassed chuckle

“It’s not the fact that I drew you…but more what I made you do in them”

Errors eyebrow rose all the way up.

“You have drawn porn of m-”

“Erotica” He cut him off, and Error waved him off

“Same fucking thing. But besides the point, What I wanted to point out is. You have drawn me in way more “scandalous”- “

He quoted his fingers to emphasize his point.

“- positions. Wich, I have told you I didn’t mind as long as you didn’t show them to anyone else”

He flushed, he had been quite embarrassed that Error had found them. But his Glitch had surprised him. He had been embarrassed sure, but also it also seemed to give Error a huge ego boost. Not that he had needed it. Espeasily when he had seen the one he had made in the hot spring.

The error had invited him to draw him more afterward. And he had taken him up on that offer on multiple occasions. The fact that he stayed on the shore, while Error was half-naked in the water was perfect for him.

The thought of taking his shirt off and joining in terrified him. Not wanting such an intimate act to be tainted by a crash, or anything else stupid he might do. No, he quite liked what they got

Error continued on

“So…I don’t get what the big deal is with these?”

He clicked his teeth, trying to find the words to explain himself. He knew why, it felt a lot more stupid than before. But there was a part of him, that was still afraid. He could feel purple and dark blue try to overtake him.

But he took a good look at Error, who seemed genuinely confused. Remembering the almost sad look he had gotten. His boyfriend didn’t like the clutter all his art projects caused. But he seemed perfectly content to be the main subject of his inspiration. So to have seen him destroy paintings of them…

Yeah, he can see now how that could have looked to Error. He tried to call forth some orange, and with a trembling voice he managed to speak about his fears.

“I thought…that if you knew…how much I longed to touch you again, you might be angry with me. I mean…I promised you…that…that when we first began dating. That if this would ever happen..that it wouldn’t matter”

He let out a shuddering breath, staring hard at Error's chest, it was easier than looking into the too-knowing eyes

“That no matter how bad your phobia would get. That it would change nothing…I was afraid…seeing this…you realized I had broken that promise” he muttered softly.

“Because It does matter to me…that we can’t touch…it…it hurts a lot.” It felt scary to admit.

“Not that I would ever leave you over it! “ He quickly stated, looking up, to see Error surprise face at this outburst, and he quickly looked back at the other's chest.

“But just…it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be”

The silence between them felt heavy, then a dry chuckle came from Error and he looked up, and saw Error staring down…looking towards him. But not to his face. Just like had been staring at the other's chest. He wondered what he was focussing on.

“I….forgot about that promise…”

He blinked surprised and he turned to face his lover.

“You did? But…you made it so-”

Error held up his hand, and he fell quiet.

“I am not surprised you remembered. And I ain't surprised I made you promise. Dunno if I just forgot, or if it is a memory my death has taken from me…”

He felt himself react to the mention of Error's death again. And he saw the other eyes narrow knowingly, But Error continued on.

“But either way, I think it made you hold yourself up to an impossible standard.”

Error let out an angry huff at himself, crossing his arms, and frowned deeper.

“I don’t think I would make that promise with the intention that you weren’t allowed to have any feelings about it at all…I just didn’t want it to be a dealbreaker. “

His eyes widened.

“Of course, it will never be!”

And Errors eyes met his, seeming ready to rebuttal him but he continued.

“No matter, how much I long to touch, hold, hug, and kiss you again. That you feel comfortable is way, way more important to me. I never want you to feel forced to touch me. So it ain't a dealbreaker at all! Never was, to begin with. I am not the brightest, But I knew who I started dating. And if I ever made you feel like that- “

“You never did. ”

He felt his face erupt in a light blush

“It’s the same for me…”

Error mumbled. Then he saw a shot of anger on his face.

“ I WANT to touch you as well. Not because I feel forced to or some bullshit. But because I just miss it. I never even thought I could fucking miss it. And it sucks. “

Error's face gained another emotion, and he realised it was the same as his. Self-loathing.

“It fucking sucks so much. I just wish I could just reach out and hold your hand again. To just lay together without worry if we accidentally brush shoulders. Even you puking ink in my face as we kiss or just - “

“-simply give a chaste kiss? Pull you along by the arm on our dates? Just be close again in general?” He interrupted the other softly

Error eyes widened and then gentled in understanding

“yeah…” then another dry chuckle

“Have…have we seriously both been worried about the fact. That we both just miss being as close as we were before all this fucking mess?”

He tugged at the strings wrapped around his hands

“Guess so…”

Error sighed and mumbled disbelievingly.

“How did we manage to avoid talking about this for four months straight?”

“Dunno…like I said…I thought you’d be angry. And with everything else. I just didn’t wanna add that on top of it?”

Error let out another deeper sigh

“And I thought, you must have known my frustration was at the situation, not at you”

“At least we know now?”

But that didn’t really erase the last few months of pain they both felt. That now felt like had been completely unnecessary and avoidable

They both just sat in that newfound knowledge, letting it settle in. Part of him was really upset. Part of him was relieved, it was the bigger part. But it couldn’t drown out all the dark colors sadly

“Speaking of things we avoided talking about,” Error said with a grunt and he knew what was coming.

“It has been four months, and we haven’t talked about the situation, that got us to this in the first place at all….have we?”

He gave a nod. It had not been on purpose. They had talked a bit in those first few days. But focused more on both their anger surrounding the whole situation with Errors return.

Then Error also had to stay a lot in the antivoid. His body clearly recovered much faster there if he was on his own.

The Balance also had kept him away. He didn’t want it tipping too much either way, but there had been a push in his mind to take advantage of it. To increase his territory. He knew that push. He hated it at times. It could help him make the most wonderful of creations. It could make him do the most heinous things.

Always trying to get more and more. Pushing him to listen to one more creator request. Check out one more Au in case it needs protecting. Strengthen the defenses of the new Au’s until they are ready to interact with the multiverse.

He had learned to deal with that urge, learned where his own desires ended and the multiverses began. Most of the time they were the same. He had this role for a reason. He fulfilled it happily. But every job has its downside.

And that first month the ugly side of it showed up. He had tried to keep the scales balanced in his lovers absence, hoping that it would accelerate his return, then kept it so he could recover. His job was protecting all universes. And the multiverse didn’t seem to enjoy that he wasn’t taken advantage of the power vacuum. He had managed to keep that urge at bay, by exhausting himself.

Blue wasn’t very happy when he found out. He made him promise not to tell Error. As far as he knew…Blue hadn’t.

And after that first month. He had been so focused on figuring out what he and Error could and could not do anymore. How to help. How to just have dates where they both enjoyed themself. He had wanted to focus on the now. Error had seemingly wanted that as well.

The strings around his ribs tightened softly and it once again reminded him of a hug.

“Talk to me Ink”

He let his hands settle against the strings around his ribs, fingertips gliding over them softly.

“It’s…hard..”

Not because he didn’t remember. Far from it. It was seemingly burned into his brain, just like holding Error’s hand for the first time, or their first kiss. But this was one he rather forget.

“It sucked..?”

He started, he could hear the sobs trying to form as the blue paints tried to overtake him like before.

Error huffed gently.

“If you made an understatement this century, that would be it”

At the words, a burst of yellow bled through like a dotted pattern

“Do…do you…remember what happened?” He asked softly.

Error shook his head.

“Not really? Bits and pieces, but not the whole thing. But I know what happened”

“Blue?”

Error nodded. And he wondered what Blue had said. About how he reacted, but knowing his friend. He might have just kept it at what happened to Error. Probably thought this was a conversation they should have themselves, and he didn’t blame him.

He felt his bones rattle as much as they could in the strings hold. Following the quivering thread all the way to Errors fingers. Staring at the way he saw the other rub his thumb at the other end.

If they could touch, Error might have been rubbing his back. Or nuzzled against his skull. He gave a silent little tug a started with and sigh.

“...I was too busy helping…I don’t remember who… but I was getting them out of the way, And I turned around and see you get hit with this giant blaster beam. I think I dropped who I was helping, and raced my way over to you. The attack stopped, and instead of attacking back, you just…you just fell right out of the air,”

He remembered the terror. Error had died before, but he had never seen it. At the time all he knew was that he had been hurt, he wasn’t sure if that beam would have been enough to kill Error. But they had been fighting that stupid gaster blaster beast for a while. It had absorbed most of their attacks. They all had lost hp, and he didn’t know how much Error had left

It had felt like slow motion watching Error fall, the blue of his scarf trailing behind him, body so very limb. Not a hint of his angry boyfriend in sight.

“I remember checking you as I got closer. You were so low on hp, And the rest of the bar had been pink with karmic retribution. And it was slowly draining the rest. I teleported beneath you, caught you…and we landed. But by the time I could start my healing, you had hit zero already”

He was hiccuping with sobs again. And the strings squeezed him gently once more.

“I tried to stop it…I ain't the best healer…but I threw all the intended I could behind it - “

“I know Kiki... “ Error interrupted him, and he met the other's eyes.

There was a gentleness in them that he knew was rare. That last time he saw it, it was followed up by a day of cuddling on the couch. His magic ached knowing that can’t happen this time. He wondered if Error thought of the same thing.

“I felt your magic…I couldn’t see or hear. But I knew you were there.”

A rosy sort of color rose in his chest. Somewhere between red and pink. It was warm, nowhere near the feelings of sunsets and warm skies he got while kissing. But something similar.

But icey blue came back as he remembered what had happened next.

“Y-you turned to dust in my arms….”

His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“y-you were there…i was holding you..and then slowly…you just..seemed to crumble away…and then…you were…gone..”

The words barely made it past his teeth.

He had been begging near the end, screaming for it to stop. For Error to hold on, that he could fix it. But in the end, he just sat there on the ground, covered in dust as the battle continued on around him.

He had never felt so empty, never been as scared. Not as far as he can remember at least. He knew he got angry, that he single-handedly killed the creature that had taken Error from him. But he doesn’t remember more than the blind grief-stricken rage.

The next thing he does remember is that Blue and Dream were holding him. Screaming and begging him to stop. His fist was bloody with marrow as he had kept on hitting the ground where he had killed the beast. Head to toe covered in Errors and the giant monster's dust. Bursting out crying in their arms. Until it all became too much, and throwing up the last of his paints.

It took them several days to coax him to drink them again. Now that he thinks back on it, that might be the first time Dream hugged him since their breakup years before. He hadn’t even done his whole, must try and safe everyone speech…

God, of course, Dream wouldn’t have given that speech at the time…even if had been more coherent. What an awful way to think about a friend…

Something warm wrapped around his shoulders, he looked up from where he had buried his head into his knees again. Errors strings were dropping Error's long coat around his shoulders, trying to cocoon him in it.

“Ru…?” he mumbled confused, wiping at the tears on his face.

“You…always buried your nose in this when we hugged…since I can’t hug you.… I thought I could trick your brain into thinking we were…cause...Fuck it Ink… I didn’t…I didn’t know okay… and I…Fuck..”

Error's eyes seemed to be burning like he was holding back tears. Even if had let tears fall, the tracks on his face would hide them. One of his hands came up to one of the lapels, pulling the jacket closer to himself. As Error fiddled with the strings seeming to refuse to look at him.

“I fucking tried to hold on, I should have been paying more attention. It was such a stupid mistake. But I was keeping track of Blue. Making sure he wasn't hit, And then…”

Error’s voice stuttered out and let out several beeps, and he saw some error signs fill his eyes.

He rose to his knees.

“Error..?”

The minor crash passed, and Error shook his head and continued on,

“I should have asked Blue for more details. No wonder you have been so all over the place inky. And…fuck just because I had been stupid? I dunno what I would have done if it had been you?…destroyed half the multiverse before I came to my senses. Yet you…you didn’t. You kept the balance, and have just been trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

Error clenched his fist, and the strings tightened again. And he could feel the anger through the magic.

“ I remember how happy you were when I came back. I thought that at points you were forcing yourself to feel happy. And you might have…but…you did that…to avoid thinking of this right?”

Error turned to look at him,

All he could do was nod, and to his surprise, some stray tears fell from his boyfriend's eyes. He wished he could come over and kiss them away.

“Fuck Dust and Dream man. I thought they were being assholes that day. But this. If I get my hands on Dust, Fuck that scare I gave him last time wasn’t nearly enough punishment. Oh and Dream? Fucking dreamboat?! He was there! I remember And then He was just gonna fucking yell at you for being excited it returned?! Don’t even get me started!!“

His magic was rushing through his body at record speed. Making him feel a little lightheaded. That Error was angry on his behalf even after all this time That he was feeling for him…what he did back then. But had no way to express at the time. It was doing things to him. It made him happy. But he also knows that he didn’t blame either of those two.

“Enough! Error….Enough…don’t go hurt either of them, please. Dust got what he deserved. And Dream and I have resolved this ourselves, you know what was going on with him at the time. It ain't an excuse for what he did. But he wasn’t in the best place. I have decided to forgive him…I don’t want you hunting him down”

Dreams comment at the time had hurt. It had dug at his own insecurity of his soulless state, as well as his relationship with Error. Luckily blue had stepped in. But Dream had forgiven him for doing much worse. It was hard, but he cared too much about Dream. And even thou their relationship was currently strained. He knew Dream did too.

The amount of time he had spent helping him in the months after Error’s death attested to that.

Error was still glaring angrily, And he shuffled closer, where he could feel the warmth of the pushing sensation. Trying to keep them apart.

“I am not asking you to forgive them…just…please don’t go after them. I won’t even stop you if you decide to grill Dream about it, 'cause I know you will, no matter what I think of it. Just please…”

Error huffed, still clearly upset.

“I ain't forgiving them”

And with that, he knew Error wouldn’t try to harm either of them. And he gave a genuine smile

“Thank you, Ruru”

And for the first time that night, he saw Error's beautiful yellow blush covering his cheeks.

His own chest filled up with a soft yellowish pink.

“Thank you for telling me about all this Ink, I promise to make it up to you” The other muttered softly into his scarf, then a bit clearer

“…How are you feeling now?”

He swayed a bit back and forth.

“Pink…”

He replied softly, and Errors blush rose and became more flustered. Error grabbed a tube he used to store papers in, And then softly bonked him on the head with it,

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as Error mock yelled.

“That aint what I was talking about and you know it you annoying Squid”

He grabbed the tube yanking it out of Error's hands,

“I know~”

And gave a soft bonk against the others head in return, before dropping it and letting it roll away.

“I am feeling…better, bit lightheaded…must be nearly out of paint…But I think…talking helped. Don’t think it got rid of everything…but don’t think I am gonna do…”

He glanced around the room with a sad smile…

“Well…anything like this”

Error gave a nod, with a little frown.

“We gotta talk more about this shit, even if we both think we don’t need to. We clearly fucking do. “

He nodded in agreement

“Easier said than done…”

“Aint that the truth…but I’ll try for you Kiki”

“And I for you Ruru”

They both smiled at each other and then he leaned back with a sigh. Feeling his eyesockets fighting to stay open, the colors in him became more muted as he ran on the last fumes.

“Tired?” Error muttered settling in as close as he dared.

He nodded, “Probably for the best if I stay blank for a day, to make sure I got rid of all the sludge.”

The strings around his torso tightened like a soft squeeze from Error's arms

“I remember what to do, and I’ll call Blue if need be”

He gave another nod and heard the sound of a glitchy portal opening. Error probably getting supplies. But he felt something against his side, opening his eyes again, he recognized the pattern of Error’s crochet blanket.

He didn’t pull it out often, but it was warm and smelled of him, And it was thick. But Error didn’t lay it over him, No he crumbled it up into a makeshift barrier, and with a soft pull of his strings gently coaxed him against it, while Error laid on the other side.

Close but not touching. He could feel the pulsing heat again. Error should feel it too, and it was probably aggravating his glitches. But it was hard to fight off sleep, as Error was closer than he had been in months. Mind focusing on the feeling of strings still gently around his torso. On the smell of the warm coat that was being rewrapped around him, cocooning him against the blanket.

And all he could feel was Error.

“Love you…” He mumbled.

He heard a bit more static as his eyes fell closed. Knowing he was safe, feeling better than he had in a long while. The last of his paints manifested into a small rainbow flush on his face, coaxing him gently into a dreamless sleep.

#noffy's writing #noffys writing #errink #fanfic #undertale #undertale au #error x ink #past dream x ink #error sans #____tale sans

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fortunesrevolver · 6 months

Text

So... life sucks right now.

Not only is my disability application still pending (November will be month 10 since I applied. Isn't waiting for the government to process things FUN?) But life is just... hard. And complicated.

My dad is currently going through ECT treatment because he's very resistant to medication for his depression. If you don't know what that is... honestly, I just snatched this summary from Google because I don't have the mental spoons to break it down right now:

Electroconvulsive therapy (ECT for short) is a treatment that involves sending an electric current through your brain. This causes a brief surge of electrical activity within your brain (also known as a seizure). The aim is to relieve severe symptoms of some mental health problems.

It's honestly not an uncommon treatment, and apparently a very successful and common one for patients who, like my dad, are resistant to medication.

The issue is, one of the side effects for this are memory loss. So right now, dad can't work. And his memory is just... awful right now. He's forgetting a lot of things from the past few months (let alone past few days or weeks) and it's just... a mess. Mom and I are doing the best we can to keep it together and keep things going... Taking him to his appointments (that are god-awful early in the morning) making sure someone is always home with him...

But it's hard. It's hard when he took on so many responsibilities like submitting payments for bills and such on his own and always assured us he had it when we offered to help.

To be clear, my dad is not at all a bad or controlling person. He just took pride in being able to take care of his family. It was one of the things he felt like he could control against his depression. Taking care of us was sort of his... anti-depression isn't the right word. But it's what kept him going. That's how he'd always explain it. We'd always just do whatever we could to support him and try to everything else easier for him. (Though in retrospect, I guess that's just how families are supposed to work. Taking care of each other as best you can.)

But right now it's so hard... He's not himself at all... and all of these symptoms can take up to 6 months to fully heal, and that's after treatment finishes (which has about... 2 weeks left, I think? It depends, really. There's a range and everyone is different.)

He's my dad and I love him a lot... but it's hard. It's hard to see him get confused or forget very basic things like the voice command for the lights he was so pleased with when he set up. Or watching a TV show one day and then immediately watching it again the day after because he doesn't remember watching it. Or that a bill set up for automatic payments will got through and he'll see it show up on the bank accounts he unconsciously remembers to check, but doesn't know what it's for, and then we scramble to not only make sure something wild didn't happen, but assure him everything is okay.

And, reading back over this post, it seems like such a small problem from an outside perspective. I'm barely touching the tip of the iceberg, but I know there's people out here that are dealing with similar circumstances ten-fold and probably handling it with way more grace than I am.

I just don't know what to do anymore. I try to help as best I can, but my dad has always been a bit of a stubborn man. Not cruelly stubborn, but stubborn about being the strong, independent one. And he can't do that right now... but he's still trying to.

I can only try to pick up whatever pieces I can with my mom and make things work as best we can.

But it's still a mess and complicated and I feel like I'm just a horrible daughter for venting like this.

#nao rants #life problems #ect treatment #ect #I just have to be stronger.#Even if it's only for a little while.#I'll be stronger and better.#For mom and dad.

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 3 years

Text

how to fake date your best friend | jake sim

✰ summary: the rules were simple -

pretend to be the boyfriend of you, his best friend who wants the attention of their crush, for a week and a week only

no kissing (bc gross cooties amirite) allowed, unless needed in times of desperate measure

and no matter what, absolutely, most definitely, do not fall in love.

simple, right?

well apparently not. because news flash––jake's already broken one of the rules.

and to give you a hint, it's neither rule 1 or 2.

✰ pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. members of enha!]

✰ genre: fluff, comedy | fakingdating!au, highschool!au, bestfriend!au, friends to lovers

✰ warnings: cursing, high-schoolers doing dumb highschool things, underage drinking (pls don’t actually do any of this irl), jake being a certified simp, it’s LONG (i’m so sorry), cheesy kithes bc im a sucker for kithes ( ˘ ³˘)♥

✰ wc: a whopping 9.5k

✰ a/n: it’s finally finished :’)))))) it ended up being much longer than i wanted but i had so much fun writing the characters that i got carried away lolol anywaysss i hope you guys enjoy it,,,i got a little unmotivated during the process bc i didn’t know if it was good or not but here it is heh (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

Tuesday, December 8th

Jake Sim lives a simple life.

He likes to think he leads the normal, stereotypical life of a teenage boy. Has decent grades, plays soccer after school, skateboards around the neighborhood, has a best friend who he’s desperately in love with, and has a stable group of friends.

Okay, maybe not so simple, because this boy would physically launch himself to the moon and drill at its surface to collect moon dust for you if you asked him to––despite his deadly fear of combusting in outer space.

But that fear doesn’t even compare to his worst one yet: not having you in his life.

And so, he decided to just repress any and all feelings he’s had for you ever since he discovered them in middle school, when he realized he hated seeing you go to the eighth grade dance with a date––that wasn’t him.

He decided that he wasn’t going to risk losing a life-long friendship over some dumb, teenage boy feelings.

They were probably powered by his testosterone anyways. Yeah, that’s totally it.

He’s totally not in love with you.

So yes, he lives a pretty normal life. Every day is the same as the last, and tomorrow will be the same as today. But he likes it like that––he doesn’t want anything to change.

Especially not now, when he finds himself content with every aspect of his life (okay maybe except for his history grade, god, does he hate history).

So, it catches him off guard when you arrive at the group’s usual lunch table, located outside in your school’s courtyard, looking as excited as ever.

Jake’s the only one at the table so far. The remaining usually showed up late––Heeseung spends his first half of lunch tutoring freshmen for community service hours (but the poor boy has no idea what he’s doing), Sunghoon is probably stuck in line in the cafeteria again (he always forgets to pack his own lunch), and Jay is...well actually, no one ever knows where Jay comes from. He’s a special one.

It catches Jake even more off guard when you skip over any greeting a normal person would give, and start speaking at one hundred words per second.

And that catches us up to the present.

“Y-You want me to what?” Jake’s stuttering as you stare at him with your hopeful eyes from across the lunch table.

Despite the expression planted on your face, which screams your excitement for your “brilliant, amazing, genius, Einstein-could-never” idea (or whatever other words you used to describe it––Jake can’t exactly recall the specific terms you used, they all came out of your mouth too fast), you don’t respond to his question of bafflement. You continue to stare at him, awaiting his response. Jake could compare the look on your face right now to a puppy looking up at its owner, eagerly waiting for a treat. You know, tongue out and all.

He swallows the lump that’s lodged in this throat (is that the sandwich he’s having, or his nerves?) and continues to give you his look of confusion laced with a nervous smile because surely, you’re joking.

You grab what’s left of your sandwich from his hands and take your own bite. Somewhere in between you arriving at the table and now, Jake’s managed to steal the sandwich you brought today. You did make the best chicken sandwiches, in his defense.

“Well? It’s only for the week! And I promise you, after one week, if nothing happens––if he doesn’t make a move or anything––I’ll move on from him like you’ve been telling me to.” Your words are muffled from you savoring your sandwich, or what’s left of it anyways. (Mental note to self: don’t share your lunch with Jake ever again.)

When Jake still doesn’t respond (you’ve truly gotten this poor boy paralyzed), you find it as a sign to continue.

“I think it’s the perfect plan. Plus, if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be like the universe is telling me to finally move on, right?”

Wrong.

Jake has been encouraging you to move on from your crush because well, if we’re being honest here, he selfishly wants you to himself. Even if it wasn’t romantically.

Preferably, he would kill to get to be the one who holds your hand in the hall, call you cheesy pet names, post disgustingly cute couple pics for the ‘gram––but for the sake of potentially ruining his relationship with you, he’ll just have to settle with the role of being your best friend.

(And he’s totally fine with that! Totally. Yup.)

But he didn’t think that you moving on would only be a mere possible outcome (that may not even happen!) from whatever this stunt is you wanna pull.

Said stunt: Pretend to date one another and hope it catches the eye of a certain someone you have your eye on: Park Sunghoon.

Ah yes, Park Sunghoon. The previously mentioned one who’s probably still in line waiting to get his lunch as we speak.

Park Sunghoon, the tall, kind, intelligent, charming young boy that everyone knows. And if anyone didn’t know him, they most definitely knew of him. He wasn’t hard to miss in the halls; everything about him just radiates perfection.

If you plucked a random high-schooler from the halls of this school and interviewed them on the Park Sunghoon, they’d say you’d be lucky enough if the quiet boy so much as sparked a conversation with you, even if it was about what last night’s chemistry homework was.

Well if that were true, then you and the rest of the boys would be considered lottery winners.

How that happened, how the four of you dysfunctional beings earned his friendship, the world may never know. However, Jake is fully convinced that this was the universe’s way of playing a cruel joke on him.

For as long as Jake could remember, it’s always been just the two of you. You and Jake. Jake and you. (With the exception of Heeseung and Jay, of course, who came along in middle school)

In fact, your earliest memory of Jake was when he peed his pants in the kindergarten during nap time. You would know, you had the privilege of sharing a sleeping mat with him that one fateful day and in result...let’s just say the smell didn’t wear off from your clothes until a week later. Five-year-old you didn’t forgive five-year-old Jake for the longest time.

And since then, you’ve been attached by the hip. And Jake liked it like that. Jake didn’t need anyone else in his life (with the exception of Leila) if he had you. He had found his home within you, and he didn’t plan on sharing his space anytime soon.

Nevertheless, the universe had a completely different idea for the two of you.

Sunghoon came into the picture last year, towards the end of the school year. Despite being the new kid, he found his way into your cherished friend group and naturally, the five of you grew as close as friends could be.

That was the problem. Jake wanted to hate Sunghoon, to despise him for being the one that you had heart eyes for, but he couldn’t.

Not only was Sunghoon one of Jake’s closest friends, but he didn’t want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group. After you, the three chaotic boys were the next most important people in Jake’s life.

And so, we have the typical love triangle plot that every coming-of-age movie follows. Of course, this is all unbeknownst to you––you may be intelligent and a people-person, but oh boy can you not see the heart eyes your very own best friend has for you.

“It’ll be easier than you think, really! Look, we can even set boundaries or rules or whatever,” you propose, as if you’re trying to get him to sign a contract.

Rules to a fake relationship? We’re not living in a Netflix romcom, are we?

“Okay rule number 1: it’ll only be for a week and a week only, rule number 2: we don’t have to do anything too couple-ly like...” you pause to wonder for a second.

“Like PDA or anything! You know, unless we really need to convince him,” you casually add. When he responds with radio silence and stares at you with absolute concern painted all over his face, you cough. “Jake, I’m joking.”

Right. Of course. Obviously.

“And of course, just try not to fall in love with me, it’ll be hard, I know,” you send a playful wink his way.

Too late. Turns out it’s not that hard. Jake would know.

Jake continues to stare at you in hesitation. Yeah, you’ve had your fair share of crazy ideas (that Jake always find himself agreeing to––the poor boy just can’t seem to say no to you), but fake dating you?

Jake is sure he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without slowly destroying himself. He’d just have to say no, he’s sure you can find someone else to do it for you.

Yes, that’s it, just say no.

Jake has to keep some of his pride in tact.

Jake does not say no.

He doesn’t know what went wrong. His mind said one thing, but his words said another.

To be fair, Jake’s actions have always been influenced by his heart, not his brain, anyways. And when it comes to you, you bet it’ll be coming from his heart.

So here he was now, under the stare of three equally shocked and confused guys across from you and him at the lunch table, your fingers intertwined with his.

Just a few seconds ago, you had spotted the rest of the lunch bunch approaching the table, and you quickly grabbed Jake’s hand and scooted in closer to him.

Now here you were, explaining to your friends of your sudden relationship.

Jake is too zoned out to even physically pick up your explanation. Something along the lines of "we’ve been dating for a while but didn’t want to tell you guys yet." From the feeling of your hand clutched tightly into his and your body right up next to him, his mind was short-circuiting.

How is he supposed to last an entire week of this if he couldn't handle innocent hand holding? Hand holding? God, what are we, back in the fifth grade?

Two minutes into this scheme and Jake's mind has already downgraded itself to a fifth grader's.

Jake mentally scolds himself for giving in, this was not a good idea.

It takes Jake approximately 12 hours to conclude that this stunt of yours may, actually, be a good idea. He knows this because approximately 12 hours after the events surrounding lunch, he receives a text from you:

y/n [12:03AM]: thanks again for doing this for me jake

y/n [12:03AM]: ur actually the best

y/n [12:04AM]: ew ok that was cheesy but really i owe u a big one <333

Following your thread of texts is a really close up photo of you widely smiling into the camera. A smile so big, Jake’s convinced your face was probably in pain after taking that picture.

Anyone else might’ve thought the photo looked borderline insane but because Jake’s Jake, aka a simpᵗᵐ for you, he comes to the conclusion that it’s singlehandedly the cutest thing he’s ever seen in the entire world.

After quickly saving the selfie into his phone, Jake tells himself that maybe this won’t be a bad thing after all. I mean, anything that makes you smile like that meant it has to be a good idea, right?

Spoken like a true simp.

Plus, dating you––fake dating you––is pretty much the same as it was before. He already spends most of his days with you to begin with. Now, it’s just with added displays of affection. For show, obviously. Obviously.

And look, if Jake will never get to actually be with you, then he’ll take what he can get. And if that meant fake dating you, well, he reasons that it’s better than nothing at all.

Wednesday, December 9th

Jake’s playing with the rings on your right hand and you’re in the middle of dramatically telling the lunch table about the infuriating Karen you had to deal with at work the other day when Jay comes up with a grin you all know a little too well.

“Okay that grin means one of two things: you finally grew the balls to ask out that poor girl you’ve been teasing all year or you have something planned that we won’t like,” you interrupt your story when you catch Jay’s sly expression, evoking a chuckle from Jake, who’s now found a new distraction with the bracelets perches on your wrist.

“Excuse you, I’ll have you know that I did ask her out. It just so happens that she’s currently ‘in between boyfriends’ whatever that means. Ouch, by the way,” Jay feigns hurt from your comment by clutching the area above his heart through his shirt. Ever the drama queen. “But yes, I do have something planned. And no, it’s not a bad idea.”

Jay squeezes his way in between Sunghoon and Heeseung from across you and begins to pull out his own lunch. Everyone’s eyes follow him as he settles in because as bad as his unknown idea may be, you’re all still curious on what this boy has to say.

“Well are you going to elaborate or...” Heeseung speaks up for everyone after you all mentally debate one another through darting eyes on who’s going to have to bite Jay’s silent bait.

Jay then forcefully sets both hands on his table, which elicits a little jump from you as you go for a bite of your sandwich. Adorable, Jake tells himself.

“My parents are out of town this weekend. We all know what that means...”

Yes. We do know what that means. The four of you have seen this scenario play out many times, a little too many times for your own good.

This meant one of Jay’s infamous house parties that he always throws whenever his parents go out of town. And because his parents are hot-shot CEOs of an important company whose name you don’t remember (it’s nothing personal, your brain can only handle so much information and this physics exam you were studying for took up 90% of your brain capacity at the moment), they’re out of town often.

And along with Jay’s parties comes chaos. Lots of it. And that’s because...well, it’s safe to say that despite the many school-wide presentations the police officers of your school have held in the auditorium on why you shouldn’t drink underage, Jay’s parents’ liquor cabinet always seems to find itself missing many a few bottles after each party. But we don’t talk about that. Shush.

Almost simultaneously, everyone at the table lets out a groan, much to Jay’s disappointment.

“C’mon guys! It’s been a while since anything’s fun happened to this school, think of all the sad students in that building right now,” he extends a finger whole-ass arm and points at your school, “who are in dire need of fun and a little...” he punctuates his sentence with the hand motion of chugging down a drink, followed with a gulping sound elicited from his tongue clicking.

You roll your eyes along with everyone else. Don’t be like Jay, kids. Listen to those police officers.

“Jay, it’s midterm season! I have an exam on Monday and I definitely do not want to spend the nights before wasted,” you give him an apologetic look. As crazy as Jay is, you do feel bad nonetheless. The boy just wants to have fun.

Your response is followed up with similar comments from around the table.

“I’m helping y/n study”

“I have an important skating performance on Sunday”

“Uh...my hamster died?” (ok Heeseung panicked, don’t blame the guy)

Ignoring that last excuse of an excuse, Jay continues his debate nonetheless. “Just come for the sake of it! No one’s saying you have to get wasted. Pleaseeee for me?”

Jay throws these parties so often, you’re not sure why he’s so set on making sure you’re all going to be there. Well, I guess who wouldn’t want their closest friends to be at their own party?

That and, Jay needs to make sure his friends are there to stop him from doing anything stupid. We all know this boy has had enough embarrassing moments to last him a lifetime.

Everyone at the table gives each other the same hesitant look. Heeseung is the first to give in, “Oh fuck it. Sure, count me in.”

Jay’s fist pumping the air before turning to Sunghoon with the most hopeful eyes.

Sunghoon simply sighs in return. “Alright okay, I’ll bite. But if you vomit on my shoes again, I’m out the door.” Jay’s finger is automatically drawing a cross over his heart as a promise to not ruin Sunghoon’s Nikes again.

He then looks to you with puppy eyes.

You, who's already staring back at Jay with a stoic look in your eyes, are stubborn and (unlike the previous weaklings) are not as easy to convince. And somehow, this began an unannounced staring contest between the two of you, a contest to see who would budge first. This isn't an uncommon occurrence between you and Jay, but the rest of the boys are still on the edges of their seats watching this duel.

Jake casually wraps an arm around your shoulder and you’re brought in close, but still undeterred from your death-stare match with the boy across from you.

If it’s not obvious enough, Jake’s really gotten into his role of being your boyfriend, despite it only being 24 hours since he last froze at your touch. Character development, you’ll give him that.

You almost forget he’s faking it for a quick second. And for an even quicker second, you imagine he wasn’t faking it. And you swear you feel butterflies in your stomach at that thought.

Weird.

You mentally shake the thought out of your head. Priorities first, aka, beating Jay in this staring contest.

“Fuck,” you stutter when you finally blink, admitting defeat to a grinning Jay. “Okay, okay, I’ll THINK about it. I’ll let you know.”

Not exactly the answer Jay was looking for, but he’ll take it. Better than a no.

He turns to Jake next, knowing there’s no way Jake will turn down a party. Just like Jay, the boy loves himself a good party.

But–

But because Jake would take your physics exam this Monday for you if you asked, because Jake would bungee jump in the Grand Canyon without a safety net below him if you asked, because Jake would fake date you to make your crush jealous for you if you asked, he doesn’t hesitate in his answer this time around: “Same as y/n, I’ll let you know.”

Jay looks at Jake. Then back at you, who he’s still clinging onto like a koala to a tree. Then back at Jake. “You two are gross. Admittedly cute. But gross.”

You look up at the boy next to you to see him already grinning at you.

For the first time today, you find yourself agreeing with Jay.

Admittedly cute.

Thursday, December 10th

You are having a bad day.

You’re having the mother of bad days.

Not only is it midterm season, but you still have all your regular weekly assignments to finish before Friday hits. So as a natural-born procrastinator does, you stayed up all last night trying to get a good amount of work done because what’s better than cramming all your work the night before it’s due? Doing it two nights before it’s due.

Well apparently it wasn’t such a good idea. Because now, here you were, frantically throwing on whatever articles of clothing you find nearest to you because you slept through all your alarms.

You’re lucky enough to make it through your school’s doors right as the second bell rings, even if you did look like you just walked straight out of a zombie apocalypse.

You’re not so lucky when you find out your first class of the day, calculus, had a pop quiz. A pop quiz on the only unit you just happened to know absolutely nothing about.

To top things off, you forgot to pack your lunch during this morning’s frenzy, meaning you’re automatically stuck sharing with Jake.

And because his mother started making him pack his own food out of a lesson of responsibility (she said something along the lines of: “Jake, you’re about to be in college and you don’t know how to pack a decent meal”), he only has a plain PB&J sandwich and a pack of Scooby-Doo gummies in his bag today (because newsflash, he still doesn’t know how to pack a decent meal).

Not that you could care less at the moment, you were too preoccupied with catching up on your assignments to even eat. And if any of the boys noticed your zombie-like state during lunch, they did a good job of not mentioning it. They knew better than to bother an irritated y/n.

Somehow, you make it through the entire school day and your after-school meeting for environmental club (save the trees!) in one piece. As you finally walk out of the school building, you exhale, automatically feeling lighter. At least the hard part of your day was done.

Now you just had to wait for Jake to finish soccer practice, which usually ended around the same time as your club, and he can drive you home, where you can continue being irritated with your day in the privacy of your own space.

You wait on the steps of the school’s entrance, waiting for a smiley Jake to come around the corner as he usually does at 5:30pm every Thursdays.

Yes, a smiling Jake is exactly what you needed to make your day ten times better, you conclude.

As if on cue, you hear a ding from your phone.

Jake [5:30PM]: ugh coach is extending practice for “team bonding”

Jake [5:30PM]: idek what team bonding is

Jake [5:31PM]: you ok if i cant drive you today? ://

It’s as if the universe decided to use you as its punching bag today.

You physically let out a distorted groan, not caring if anyone who happened to hear you thought you were a creature from out of this world, as you send him a text back.

y/n [5:32PM]: it’s all good lol have fun with tEaM bOnDiNg

Things were not all good. But no matter how upset you may be, you weren’t going to project your negative vibes onto Jake’s naturally positive ones. So you get up from the stone steps and begin your dreaded walk back home.

It’s freezing out. You should’ve known better to just throw on a hoodie and call it a day when it’s the middle of December. But then again, you figured by now you’d be in the comfort and warmth of Jake’s car and presence...not walking home in these freezing temperatures.

You think about Jake and how he’s probably currently suffering from not only his team bonding exercises (but really though, what are team bonding exercises?), but doing them in this weather as well. The poor boy.

You’re quickly broken out of your thoughts by the sound of a car engine from behind you. When you don’t see it pass by you and instead hear it pull over and park next to the curb of the sidewalk you’re currently on, you automatically deduce that this is it, this is my time, I’m about to get kidnapped by whoever it is behind me but y/n, you should probably turn around and check first before you drive yourself insane in this inner dialogue.

You turn around and squint into the front window of the car. If it were a kidnapper, this is exactly what your mother told you not to do. Her exact words were: “Run, don’t look back, and scream bloody murder.”

Good thing it wasn’t. Just an innocent Sunghoon waving his hand at you, motioning you to get in.

“Sunghoon?” You approach his car and stop at the passenger side’s open window.

“y/n! It’s freezing out, I’ll drive you home c’mon,” he nods his head towards the passenger side door.

Well, how could you say no? Sunghoon owns a nice car. Like a nice car. Like car-seat-heaters-that-make-you-feel-like-you’re-physically-melting nice. Beats getting hypothermia outside, right?

“Why are you going home from school so late?” You ask as you settle into his car, instantly melting at the touch of the aforementioned heated seats.

“Debate club, actually. Decided I needed another personality trait other than ice skating,” he starts the engine and begins driving towards the direction of your neighborhood.

You laugh at his comment, you didn’t peg him as a debate kind of student. Quiet Sunghoon? Debate club? If 2 plus 2 is four...

“Hey, I don’t call you the Ice Prince for nothing! Also, don’t forget your other personality trait: forgetting your lunch every day.”

Sunghoon quickly glances over at you to send you a dirty look (because eyes on the road, kids!), which you return with a cheeky grin. “Need I remind you that was you today?”

“Touché,” you click your tongue.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the faint sound of Sunghoon's music in the background filling in the quietness.

You’re humming along until Sunghoon breaks the silence, “Did Jake get stuck at practice again?”

You don’t know why, but you swear you feel your heart beat faster at the mention of Jake’s name. No, that was always there right? Because you were with Sunghoon...your crush..obviously. Obviously.

Ignoring the feeling, you turn your attention towards the boy driving you.

“Oh yeah, something about team bonding. How’d you know?”

“Eh, I just figured since he wasn’t driving you home like he always does.” He turns into your neighborhood.

You nod at his answer.

“You two make a good couple.”

You whip your head at him. Did you hear him correctly?

“It was about time, really. You two have been ogling at one another for so long, Heeseung, Jay, and I almost placed bets on who would be the first to make a move.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, casually going on about how you and Jake make the cutest couple he’s ever seen.

You're frozen, unsure of what to think, let alone say.

You think to two days ago, when you started this entire fake relationship because of the very boy driving you home right now. The same boy who's complimenting you on your fake relationship. The same boy who's supposed to be jealous over that said relationship. The same boy you’re supposed to be crushing over.

But now...only a mere 48 hours later, you were finding yourself okay with the fact that he was happy for you. And for the life of you, you couldn’t remember why you liked Sunghoon in the first place. Not saying he isn’t one to be crushed on, I mean, look at the guy.

Maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact that you didn't feel nervous or giddy or..anything at all when you got into the car with Sunghoon. At least, not until Jake's name was mentioned. That's when you felt the butterflies. At the mention of Jake.

Jake.

Weird.

But before you can come to a conclusion on why you're feeling the way you do, Sunghoon interrupts your thoughts.

"Well, we're here! Say hi to your parents for me," he pulls into your driveway as you're still collecting your thoughts.

You give him a quick thanks and one last wave as you enter the front doors of your house.

Seeing that your only solution towards confusing feelings meant distracting yourself, distract yourself you did.

Even if it meant distracting yourself with your piling assignments.

The next time you look up from your work, it's suddenly way past sundown and a heavy storm has taken over. You’re surprised it hasn’t started flooding yet with the amount of rainfall you were hearing.

You check the time on your phone, the bright 8:16PM on the screen illuminating your dimly lit room. Seeing that neither of your parents have yet to be home from work, it looks like you were going to have to settle with some instant ramen for dinner tonight.

As you trudge down the stairs of your home, the sound of light knocking against the front door catches your attention. It's been a long day y/n, you're probably hearing things, it's definitely just the rain.

Nope. There it is again, but much louder. Much more urgent.

You contemplate any and all potential disasters that could happen from answering the door. Only a crazy person would be willing to go out in this hurricane-like weather to be frantically knocking on your door.

And so, you assume it has to be some psychopath trying to get into your house. Yes, there’s definitely no other logical explanation.

You scramble around your living room, looking for the next best weapon to defend you. Resorting to the flower vase your mother keeps on the table next to the front door, you hold it out in front of you, as if you're waiting for the door to burst open.

The knocking continues, gradually getting louder. You mentally curse at yourself for dropping out of the taekwondo class your dad signed you up for when you were younger.

Vase in hand, you swing open the door and brace for–

"Jake? What the fuck? Get in here, you're gonna get sick!"

You’re suddenly aware of how stupid you look, holding a light pink vase with a couple of orchids as your only form of self-defense...for it to only be your own best friend. You immediately put it back on the table as Jake quickly rushes past you and into your humble abode.

You close the door behind you and turn to face the soaked boy.

“I come bearing gifts, also known as take-out and hot chocolate from that one cafe you love. Also my company, if you’ll take it. I had a feeling you weren’t having the best day today,” he’s simply standing there, holding up a large brown paper bag in one hand, and a deliciously smelling cup of hot chocolate in the other, but you’re looking at him as if he bought you the Moon.

You stare in awe at the angel of a boy in front of you, silently thanking the stars for gifting you this amazing human being as your best friend. You don’t know what you did to deserve him.

You give him a soft smile. “Jake, you didn’t have to. It’s practically a shitstorm out there,” you cock your head towards the window, showcasing the downpour of cats and dogs outside. Jake stays by the entrance as you go down the hall and through your house’s linen closet to find a spare towel for the drenched boy.

“Nah it’s no big deal, really. Just fulfilling my duties as your loyal boyfriend,” he grins, even though you can’t see him. He likes calling himself that. Your boyfriend.

Jake continues to shake his messy hair to get the excess rain off, giving a mental apology to whoever is going to have to mop up the puddle forming on the floor due to his unannounced visit. Probably you.

Jake hears you laugh down the hall. “You’re really invested in your role, huh? Keep this up and you might actually trick me into believing you’re my actual boyfriend.”

Actual boyfriend? Jake likes the sound of that. Maybe he will keep this up then.

Jake doesn’t have much experience in acting, unless you count that time he played the role of Town Villager #3 in the third grade play, so he never found it as one of his interests. But playing the role of your boyfriend was one he was willing to fulfill for the rest of life, even if it was just for show.

Jake doesn’t respond to your comment, he’s instead self-aware of his blushing cheeks, thankful that you’re too busy rummaging through your linen closet to take notice.

“Plus, you didn’t have lunch today and I had feeling you were going to be too caught up in your work to feed yourself anything other than instant ramen,” he sets down his gifts to you on your living room’s coffee table as you come around the corner, fresh towel and new set of clothes in hand.

His eyes fall on the familiar looking pair of sweatpants and hoodie resting on the palms of your hands.

Hm. A little too familiar.

Then, it clicks in his head.

His eyes narrow at you as you giggle at his reaction, “Oh, so it takes me getting drenched in the rain for you to finally return my clothes that I’ve been missing!?”

“Hey! I’m not returning them, simply loaning them out to a friend who’s in dire need. You basically gifted them to me the second you left them here months ago.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Love you too,” you toss the clothes at him and take a seat on the floor around your coffee table, prepping the table with the boxes of Chinese food Jake supplied.

After Jake changes into the stolen dry clothes, he takes a seat next to an already-eating you at the coffee table.

“You. are. my lord and savior Sim Jaeyun,” you’re saying with your mouth full of fried rice. You sigh from satisfaction and rest your head against Jake’s shoulder as you continue chewing. He grins as he helps himself to his own serving of fried rice and orange chicken.

You look up at him from your spot, “How was team bonding today?”

Jake groans in response, clearly annoyed. “Stupid. I don’t get how doing trust falls and pyramid building is going to get us any closer. If anything, I almost FELL off that pyramid today!”

You don’t know why, but you find yourself admiring him and his soft features as he continues to rant about one of his teammates, specifically, the one who almost dropped him.

The way his messy hair, unkept from the rain ruining it, almost covers his eyes (but you tell yourself you like it this way, it looks more natural on him), the way the corners of his lips are always perked upwards (even when he’s ranting), the way his eyes sparkle whenever he’s truly passionate about whatever he’s talking about, the way his eyes look at you like–

“Stare much? Look, I get you can’t resist my good looks but at least be subtle about it,” he smirks at you as he takes another spoon of rice.

You break out of his trance and scoff at him.

“You’re cute when you rant,” you nonchalantly say as you move from your spot to mirror his actions and add more rice to your plate as well. Jake’s stills at your sudden comment, unsure of how to respond. Lucky for him, you’re distracted by the mountain of food on your plate to even notice the blushing mess of a boy next to you.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute. Or else I’d deck you right here and now for ditching me after school today.”

Anddd there goes the moment. Leave it to you to follow up a compliment with a threat of violence.

Jake finds it cute anyways. He always finds you cute.

Jake narrows his eyes and lightly shoves you before an apology is written all over his face. “Sorry about that by the way. I feel awful about making you walk home when it was freezing out.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Sunghoon gave me a ride, actually. Did you know he does debate? I guess you learn something new everyday,” you ramble, unaware of the boy next to you getting tense at the sudden mention of the other’s name.

Up until now, Jake’s completely forgotten about Sunghoon's involvement in this entire scheme. In fact, the past 48 hours with you have felt so normal, so comfortable, he almost forgot about the deal in the first place. “You think he has any clue?” Jake suddenly asks, referring to the plan.

You immediately know what he’s referring to, as Jake practically worded out your very own thoughts.

You shrug. “Not a single one. We’re practically William and Kate in his eyes. But honestly, that’s the least of my worries right now. I’m too distracted by my exams right now to care.”

Jake feels guilty for being satisfied with your answer. He’s 100% sure that if convincing Sunghoon took you two an entire lifetime of fake dating, he’d be all too willing to do it.

“Go to Jay’s party with me tomorrow,” he abruptly says, catching your attention as your mouth is stuffed. Cute.

He pokes your cheek. “It’ll get your mind off of work and plus, what’s more convincing than showing up to a party with your amazing boyfriend?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Jake doesn’t know where he gets his sudden surge of confidence. But he does know he loves calling himself your boyfriend...even if it’s for the time being.

Rolling your eyes and swatting his poking fingers away from your face, you ponder on his suggestion.

“You mean my annoying boyfriend,” you stick your tongue out at him. Jake takes a mental picture and hopes it never leaves his mind.

“But I guess you could be right. Maybe I can clear my head for the night before I study my ass off all weekend.”

Friday, December 11th

The party does not clear your mind.

If anything, it gives you enough headaches to last you at least until the end of high-school.

You come to this revelation as you and Jake approach Jay’s home, a luxurious mansion sitting at the end of a cul-de-sac, lined with similarly luxurious palaces, located in an equally luxurious neighborhood.

You come to this revelation when you can already feel the pounding bass of music as you walk up Jay’s driveway.

You come to this revelation when, not even two seconds after entering Jay’s front doors––

“You’re here!” A buzzed Jay shouts at the two of you, causing the both of you to contemplate your past choices that brought you here today. Jay definitely isn’t straight up drunk yet, but Jake still makes a mental note to keep an eye on him tonight. Just in case.

The blonde-haired boy is quick to hand over two red solo cups of god knows what, to which you and Jake immediately put down on the nearest table after Jay walks away to greet the next incoming guests (you know, to not hurt his feelings).

You and Jake are lucky enough to have been around Jay and his parties long enough to know that going all out at these parties will not be pretty the next morning.

You cringe at the memory of last year, when you had to suffer from possibly the worst hangover of all hangovers after one of Jay’s parties. Jake will never let you forget how miserable you looked the next morning. His camera roll’s album titled “y/n blackmail pics” can vouch for that.

“Remind me again to never listen to you,” you almost have to shout at Jake over the thumping music. Jake laughs at your comment and tugs at your hand as he begins entering the house.

The two of you do your rounds of greetings to the people you know...and random underclassmen who you swear you have never seen before but somehow made it to this party. You’ve always questioned how Jay’s invite list worked. Maybe there isn’t one. That would explain how it looked like someone announced Jay was giving out free Teslas and the entire school got hold of the news.

“Thank god you guys are here,” you hear a voice come from behind the two of you as you guys leave the main room to enter the house’s smaller, but just as luxurious looking, den. You turn to see Heeseung with Sunghoon following closely behind, trying his best not to get swept away in the crowd of people.

The den is where you usually stayed during these parties. It’s not like there are rules of where people are allowed to party, by any means, but it’s like how a high-school’s cafeteria worked. There’s a mutual silent agreement of where everyone goes, and the den is where the party host and his friends went.

“Okay, is it just me, or is tonight’s party just a little...too..much?” Sunghoon asks as the four of you take your seats on the main couch of the room. Jake’s quick to make space for you next to him as you go to sit, but to his surprise, you find your home right on his lap.

“You said be convincing right?” you say into his ear as you settle yourself. Right. That’s totally why. Because you had to go along with the ruse. Obviously.

You shift a bit so you’re more facing sideways, not blocking off Jake’s line of vision as the boy himself is..well, calling him a rag doll might be excessive.

But he’s sure he looks like one right now, having lost all senses in his limbs, leaving him frozen underneath you.

Jake Sim is the epitome of politeness. He was raised in a family that taught him how to respectfully greet others, how to always offer food to others before eating it himself, how to properly treat a significant other. As a result, Jake grew up to be one of the sweetest, kindest, purest people to ever walk this earth.

(Relatively speaking, the earth is large, but so is Jake’s heart.)

But human-beings aren’t perfect, they must have a balance. A balance of pros and cons.

Sure, he can’t pack his own lunch and sometimes forgets to water the little succulent you gifted him that’s currently seated on his window sill. Sure, sometimes he’s too sweet for his own good, you know, like willing-to-be-your-fake-boyfriend too sweet. But aside from the minor details, Jake Sim doesn’t have many cons, no.

But he sure can be awkward.

And so because Jake Sim is sweet, kind, pure, and awkward, he is unsure of what to do with himself when you’re seated right on top of him.

As if you could read his befuddled mind, you take his arm that’s resting behind you to wrap around your waist as your support as you throw one of your arms around his shoulder. And throughout this entire adjustment, his widened eyes are staring right at you.

Bless this pure, pure boy.

Also bless the position you’re in, blocking the two other boys from directly seeing Jake’s face. Because if they were to catch glimpse of Jake’s expression right now, your cover might be blown, just like that. You’re lucky Heeseung and Sunghoon are distracted by another classmate who came up to them.

“Relax,” you sweetly laugh, cupping his chin with your free hand and lightly squeezing his cheeks. “You’re so adorably awkward.”

Jake pouts at you. “I am not awkward!”

“Right, and I’m totally dating you for real,” you playfully whisper at him, eliciting a poke at your waist in response.

Twenty minutes of people-watching-aka-“who do you think is gonna pass out first?”-from-your-spot-on-the-couch later, the four of you draw your attention to the rowdy party host you all have the honor of calling your friend––aka Jay––dancing (that is, if you call wildly swinging your limbs in all four directions dancing) in the middle of the den.

"Oh god, look at him," Sunghoon voices from besides you.

Heeseung's already filming the moment on his phone. Ah yes, technology. The best thing to ever happen to drunk teens' friends.

"He's so wasted," you throw your head back as you let out a laugh. “We should help the kid out.”

Poor Jay. He's not gonna hear the end of it after tonight.

"I don't know why he thinks these parties are such a good idea when he knows how trashed he's gonna be when he wakes up," Jake says, his hand naturally squeezing your waist as you giggle at his comment. "And how trashed the house will be."

Jay slumbers over to where the four of you are seated, and abruptly stops right in front of the couch.

"My best friends!" Jay happily cheers. “Having fun?”

“Watching you? Always,” you say to the boy who’s squeezing into a seat between you and Sunghoon, as if the small couch wasn’t already suffocating enough (and that’s with you on Jake’s lap).

“But for real though, you should probably lay off the drinks for now,” Heeseung insists. “For all our sakes.”

Sunghoon nods along and grabs the cup Jay’s currently nursing and sets it down where it’s out of Jay’s reach, much to his dismay. But the disappointment quickly leaves the dazed boy’s head, as his attention is now directed towards you and Jake.

“Well if it isn’t mom and dad,” Jay turns to face you and Jake, certainly amused by your seating arrangement.

“You know–” Jay points a finger at the two of you. “For a couple that’s certainly close, I haven’t seen you two kiss.”

Jake is immediately coughing, certainly not expecting that to come out of his friend’s mouth.

“Okay and your point is?” Jake frowns at Jay. If Jay wasn’t tipsy, Jake would’ve smacked the back of his head by now.

“I’m just saying...” the blonde responds, both hands up in the air as if Jake is accusing him of something, when in was, in fact, the opposite. “But nevermind, Jakey boy here is probably too innocent for such nonsense anyways.”

Yes, it’s confirmed. Once Jay sobers up tomorrow, Jake is driving over to his house (even though it’s a good ten minute drive from his own) just to smack him.

“What do you mean I’m too–”

Jake doesn’t finish his sentence. In fact, Jake doesn’t even remember what he was going to say.

Jake doesn’t think nor feel anything else other than your lips planted on his.

You’re pulling him in close, your hands cupping his face as his own are twitching on your waist, his mind flustered. You move your hands from his face to his neck, to which Jake immediately relaxes at.

Sure, you two are in the middle of a dumb high-school party, one filled with pounding music and shouting teenagers, but right now, in this moment, Jake can only feel you. And he doesn’t want the feeling to ever stop.

When you part, Jake’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, his own parted in shock. He thinks he might pass out right here and now. He thinks his heart might explode right here and now. He thinks he might lov-

“Happy?” you turn to a satisfied Jay, ignoring the looks of amusement from Heesung and Sunghoon besides him.

“Well,” you pat Jake’s leg as you get up from your spot. “I’m gonna get us some drinks. Punch only, of course.”

Jake’s eyes are on you as you walk away, his face tinted pink from the adrenaline of it all, his heart racing.

Jake thinks back to three days ago, when he told himself that this idea of yours was going to be all fine. After all, it was only going to be for one week. Afterwards, he can move on with his life as if nothing happened.

But fast forward 72 hours later, 72 hours after you and Jake started this act, 72 hours after Jake told himself it’ll be all fine, Jake knows he was poorly mistaken.

Because 72 hours later, in the middle of a party that reeked of the combined smell of alcohol and sweat, Jake knows one thing and one thing for sure.

He never wants to move on from the feeling of being with you. He never wants to move on from this.

From you.

He’s screwed.

Saturday, December 12th

When Jake wakes up, much later than he intended to, on Saturday morning, the first sensation he feels are his tingling lips, still in disbelief that they graced your own last night.

The second sensation being his pounding mind––it’s running through ten million thoughts at a time, telling him no last night wasn’t a dream.

Third: his heart beating so fast at the thought of you, he thinks he might beat out of his chest.

And fourth, a buzzing noise.

Jake blindly flounders his arm to the table beside him in hopes of finding the origin of the annoying sound, aka, his phone.

After knocking down multiple miscellaneous items on his nightstand (he makes a mental note to clean his room later), he successfully retrieves the item of search.

Jake squints at the bright screen, mind still cloudy from a mix of 1) being half-asleep, and 2) still processing what happened the night before.

y/n [11:10AM]: r u awake yet?

y/n [11:22AM]: imma take that as a no

y/n [11:35AM]: lemme know when ur up

jake [11:44AM]: just woke up sorry

jake [11:44AM]: are you okay? what’s up

y/n [11:45AM]: r u busy?

y/n [11:45AM]: kinda wanted to talk abt smth

jake [11:45AM]: uh well no im still in bed lmao

y/n [11:46AM]: cool im outside your door

Jake’s eyes widen as he processes your last few texts.

Talk? Outside his door?

Jake’s heart is nervously pounding as jumps out of bed and quickly puts on the first plaid flannel he finds. He scrambles to his mirror and gives his reflection a quick run-down.

He’s sporting your his favorite hoodie underneath the flannel that’s long overdue a wash and his tousled hair has seen better days, but he couldn't care less.

Before his mind can catch up to his actions, he’s rushing down the stairs, skipping two at a time and to this front door. Because he didn’t want to keep you waiting? Because he was too excited to see you? Maybe a mix of both. Definitely more of the latter, however.

He quickly runs a hand through his hair to try to fix it up as much as he can, to no avail, before opening the door to reveal you, sitting on the steps of his front porch.

“y/n,” he’s breathing heavily as you turn to greet him with your sweet smile he didn’t even realize he was missing. Is it possible to miss someone overnight? Jake concludes yes, it definitely is.

“Did you run down here or something?,” you question his out-of-breath state, a teasing tone laces the tip of your tongue.

“Or something,” Jake mutters as he closes the front door behind him to join you on the steps when you make no sign of moving. “Have you been out here all morning?”

“Not allll morning. I had a feeling you’d sleep in so I came around the time I first texted you. Would’ve knocked but didn’t wanna bother your family,” you hum, keeping your eyes trained on the peaceful scenery around you.

You’ve always loved Jake’s neighborhood, it brought you a sense of peace, a sense of home.

Or was that because it reminded you of Jake?

“You could never be a bother,” he quickly rebuttals as he takes his seat next to you on the steps.

You respond with a soft smile before turning your attention back to anything other than the boy next to you. Your mind seems to be lost in its own thoughts, Jake can tell by the distant look in your eyes.

The sound of birds chirping in the distance fills the silence that falls between the two of you.

Any other day, Jake would love this. He savors every second he’s with you, even if it’s just pure silence.

But this silence was different. It wasn’t the usual comforting, warm silence that the two of you share on a typical day. This one held tension, tension so thick that Jake doesn’t know where to begin thinking.

But here’s the thing. Jake doesn’t think.

Not when it comes to you.

He takes a deep breath. Rubs his hands together. Pats them on his lap. Turns towards you.

“Look, I-”

“I think I might like you.” The words come out of your mouth so fast, Jake’s positive he heard you wrong the first time around.

He whips his head to meet your eyes, your own already staring back at him, your bottom lip nervously tucked under your teeth.

“No, I––I do. I know I do. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you and I don’t think I’m doing a very good job right now,” the words are all of the sudden tumbling out of your mouth as if your brain flipped a switch and isn’t able to turn it off. “In hindsight, I should’ve known better to fake date my own best friend. But these past few days made me realize how much I love being with you. And not like how I’m always with you 24/7 before this entire thing started, but being with you. I even started getting that weird, bubbly feeling in my stomach every time I so much as heard your name. And then last night at the party, I realized afterwards that I wouldn’t have kissed you if some part of me didn’t see you in that way. Even if it meant Jay would’ve been on our asses all night if I didn’t. So yeah.”

You finish with a deep breath and look up at him to meet his widened eyes. Silence.

Jake thought he was braindead during last week’s history quiz. Jake thought he was braindead when he had to cram a semester’s worth of chemistry content the night before his exam. Heck, Jake thought he was braindead when you first told him about your idea of a fake dating him. But no, this is braindead.

He’s finally hearing what he’s been dreaming of for so long, and of all times, now his brain decides to shut off.

“Are you..uh..are you gonna say anything?” You’re nervously fumbling with your hands, desperate to distract yourself with anything else apart from his silent stare.

"Why are you sorry?" Jake says before his mind can think of anything else. He doesn't pay attention to his thumping heart that's one look-from-you away from exploding right then and there. "You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you took the words right out of my mouth.”

Now you're staring at him with the wide eyes, the words processing in your mind.

Jake realizes he's waited too long to do this. A few years too long. He also realizes he shouldn't have put on that extra layer of a flannel. The nervous tension created by the two of you was suffocating enough, and being outside under the bright sun didn’t help.

"I like you too. God y/n, I like you too so much," Jake doesn't even care if his words are all sorts of messed up right now. He just needs you to get the idea. "I have for a while now.”

You let out a relieved sigh, ecstasy rushing through your blood. “Really? I think I have for a while too. I’m so stupid, it took me so long to realize it. It didn’t hit me until I realized how I felt around you, compared to the guy I’m supposed to actually have a crush on.”

Jake lets out a laugh, the tension immediately dissolving. “Hey, if it wasn’t for Sunghoon, I don’t think we’d be here right now.”

“You’re right, I’m too oblivious and you’re too awkward to actually make a move,” you wink at him. If his heart wasn’t fluttering at the sight of you, on his porch on a Saturday morning, confessing your feelings to him, Jake probably would’ve lightly shoved you away.

Instead, he’s turning to you with the most endeared look on his face, and you’re blushing underneath his gaze.

“What? Stare much?” You giggle, quoting the boy himself as you shyly duck your head to avoid his stare.

Jake gently grabs your chin to tilt your face towards his, and before you can process what’s happening, he suddenly meets your lips with his own, closing the gap between you two.

Jake thinks if the ground underneath him right now decided to open up and swallow him whole, he’d die happily.

Jake smiles against you, feeling comfort in ways he’ll never be able to achieve without you.

Your hands instinctively find their way into his hair, as one of his rests below your ear, thumb softly caressing your cheek, the other pulling you in by the waist. He’s naturally leaning into you, gravitating towards your warmth, unable to stop the giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach.

He doesn’t think the feeling will ever go away.

When you pull away to catch your breath, you rest your head against the nook of his neck, basking in his presence as his arms both find their way around your waist. You sigh in pleasure.

“Remember at the beginning of all of this, when you told me ‘Just try not to fall in love with me?’” Jake gently says. Jake feels the slight nod you give against his shoulder as you hum in response.

Jake whispers two more words into your ear, filling you with happiness and warmth you know you won’t be able to find through anyone––or anything––else.

“Too late.”

✰ if you made it ‘til the end, ily :’)))))

2K notes · View notes

tsukishumai · 3 years

Text

pairing: miya osamu x gn!reader genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn word count: 3.2k summary: In which Osamu finds that the stranger lurking outside his store window has a connection to his restaurant that he could have never expected.

Osamu remembers every single face that has walked through the doors of Onigiri Miya since the day they’ve opened. He has yet to hire another worker, manning all stations of his business himself. The rush hours always provided him with a bit of a heavy work load, but Osamu has learned a lot about diligence and patience. Business had been good enough; traffic was steady throughout the day, and he had his fair share of regulars whose orders he had already memorized.

The stuffy, salt-and-pepper haired man in the pressed three-piece suit always ordered two umeboshi onigiri and a medium iced green tea. The kind old woman that ran the shop across the street would come in for his salted salmon, and if he had extra, Osamu would throw in an extra tuna mayo. She’d always smile and give him a pat on the shoulder, her eyes crinkling in a way that reminded Osamu of his grandmother.

It was when the shopkeeper had slowly walked out of his establishment and back to her own that Osamu noticed you standing a few feet away from his storefront. You had been wearing a face mask, but Osamu could see that you were staring at his sign. Your eyes squinted at the block letters that looked down at you, before they trailed down to land directly on Osamu. You seemed a little startled at the fact that his eyes were already staring at you, but you were standing outside his restaurant, weren’t you?

Before he could lift a hand to wave you in, you quickly turned and walked away.

Every few days, either during the dinner or lunch rush, Osamu would catch a glimpse of you outside of his restaurant. You’d stare at his sign for a few seconds; maybe glance at the menu board that stood a few feet away from his entrance, or look at the pictures of his full menu taped to the restaurant window. he would see the way you studied each item, yet you always walked the opposite direction.

It bothered Osamu. Why didn’t you want to come in? Did his menu look boring? Was his sign uninviting? Is his decoration too traditional? Should he have made it look a little more modern? He grumbled to himself about it each time you peeked in, and walked away. Why do you bother coming so often if you didn’t want to try his food? Osamu huffed.

It wasn’t until four weeks later, when Osamu had posted three brand new flavors on his menu board that you finally deemed his restaurant worthy enough to step in.

You had stopped by a little bit later than usual today, the dinner rush had come and gone, and the only ones left in the restaurant were you and Osamu. He stood patiently waiting behind his counter, desperately trying to look busy and as if he hasn’t been waiting for this moment for weeks.

He waited until you were close enough to his counter to say his greetings. You nodded at him in acknowledgment, taking a seat at the bar in front of him. He handed you a menu, and your eyes roved over the words as if they hadn’t done so dozens of times prior.

“Can I get ya anything to drink?” He asked, and you took off the baseball cap you had been wearing, setting it down on the counter beside you. Your finger hooks along the ear loop of your face mask and Osamu realizes he’s seeing your face for the first time. You place the piece of cloth in your pocket, and Osamu fights the heat across his cheeks.

“Just water,” you said, and Osamu was quick to set a fresh glass down in front of you.

“What’ll it be?” He asked after a few moments, adjusting the bill of his hat and settling his hand on his hip.

You hum a little, tapping your finger against your lips before you reply. “I’ll have the combo #2 with the gyoza.”

Osamu nodded, “What two flavors onigiri would you like?”

“For the first one, I’ll have your most popular flavor,” you say, before closing the menu and handing it back to him, “I’ll let you choose the second one.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow at your odd request, but nods anyway, putting the menu away and walking back to give his hands a quick wash.

He begins to gather his ingredients when he noticed you take out a notepad and a pen from your bag, placing it on the counter in front of your water.

“So,” he says, starting the process of making his number one seller (salted salmon), “What was it?”

“Excuse me?” You asked, pausing the drink that was half way to your lips. “What was what?”

“Well, ya stood outside for weeks, so I gotta know,” Osamu said, placing the delicate filling into the ball of rice he was kneading in his palm, “What made ya decide to finally come in?”

You tightened your lips, awkwardly setting the cup back down on the counter and placing a palm on your forehead.

“I was that obvious?”

“Were ya trying not to be?” He laughed, looking at you expectantly.

“It was the flavors on your board,” you finally replied, leaning back in your seat, “There was one that my grandfather used to make.”

Osamu smiled to himself, wrapping his first finished onigiri in the seaweed he had roasted earlier that day, placing it gently on a serving platter and moving over to make the next rice ball.

“That’s a coincidence,” Osamu said, “Your grandfather must have had great taste.”

“He used to own a restaurant,” you blurted out, and Osamu hummed.

“You’re kidding,” he said, “Whereabouts?”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, shifting your eyes side to side as if debating on whether you wanted to divulge him in your greatest secret. Eventually, you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the counter and placing your chin in your palm. “Actually, it was this one.”

Osamu’s fingers froze. “Ya don’t mean—?”

You nodded excitedly. Osamu lets out a scoff. “Now you’re just messin’ with me.”

“No, I swear!” A bright smile erupted across your cheeks as you jumped a little in your seat, “My grandparents used to own this restaurant.”

“I thought this was a boutique before I bought it?” Osamu questioned, putting his final touches on the second rice ball.

“It was,” you agreed, taking a sip from your water, “They owned this place until I was in high school, and sold it before they retired somewhere in the mountains. It’s been a few different stores since, but this is the first time it’s become a restaurant again. I was pretty surprised when I first saw it.”

Osamu felt an odd sensation of pride began to brew in his chest, shown in the way he sprinkled his sesame seeds a little extra forcefully.

“Well,” he said, placing the plate of two perfect onigiri right on the counter in front of you, “I hope I do this place some justice.”

You smiled, and Osamu found himself smiling with you. He pointed out the shake on the left, and the surprise flavor on the right. You nodded, intrigued, picking up the onigiri lying on the left side.

Osamu makes the gyoza while you take your first bite, nearly pumping his fist in victory when he sees you close your eyes in satisfaction, the tension he didn’t even know you carried slowly melting from your shoulders. He sees you quickly jot down comments on the notepad next to you, and Osamu tries to peek at what you wrote when he gives you the gyoza.

“Ya jottin’ down comments about my food?” He joked, and you jumped a little at his voice, “Got any suggestions, then?”

You smile sheepishly, “It’s just a little hobby of mine.”

He nods, grabbing a towel and wiping down the counter that he had just used. “Well, ya let me know if ya need anything else.”

“It’s just you working tonight?” You ask, grabbing your chopsticks and picking up a piece of gyoza.

“It’s just me every night,” he chuckled.

Your eyes widened as you chewed on your food, swallowing with a loud gulp.

“Doesn’t that get exhausting?” You ask, quickly jotting down your notes before diverting your attention back to him.

Osamu just shrugged. “I poured my everything into something I didn’t love half as much as cooking. This is just how I know how to do things.”

You tilted your head to the side, “What did you do before this?”

Osamu takes a deep breath as he lifts his hat up a little bit to ruffle his fingers through his hair. He flips the cap around and puts it on backwards, his vision no longer half covered by the bill of his hat and he can now look at you fully. He almost wants to laugh because no one has ever asked him that version of this question before. It was always, ‘What are you going to be doing after volleyball?’

He hated the fact that any answer other than ‘I’m going to play professionally’ was deemed a shame, or a waste. For Osamu, he didn’t want to waste another second not pursuing his passion.

So it was refreshing to tell you about volleyball as if it was just a footnote in his food journey; something that he had done prior to finally recognizing his actual potential.

You gawked at him in disbelief, “Volleyball? Were you even any good?”

Osamu actually recoiled in offense, “I’ll have ya know I was on a team that went to nationals three years in a row.”

You raised your eyebrows appreciatively, and Osamu straightened a little.

“So why food?” You question him again, and Osamu wonders if you’re always this inquisitive. He’s answered this question hundreds of times, swore up and down that he would shoot the next person that even dared to say ‘Why food?’ in front of him. Yet for some reason, he felt more than happy to divulge you.

“Because food is more than just something ya eat when you’re hungry. It’s coming back from a long trip, and it’s the warmth that spreads through your body when ya eat your mom’s cooking for the first time. That taste of victory that spreads across your tongue when ya go out for a meal with your pals after a game. The sensation of closing your eyes in satisfaction when ya take a bite out of a fresh onigiri after a long day,” you pause your scribbles at that moment, looking up to shoot him a playful glare. Osamu chuckled and continued, “It’s laughter shared around the table, and memories made over a plate that makes food more than just nourishment for our body, but also for our soul.”

Osamu feels his cheeks heat up as he finishes his speech, embarrassment beginning to sink in at the end of his long tangent. You looked at him with a soft look on your face as you finished the last bite of your first onigiri, and dusted your fingers from any stray grains of rice.

“Words to live by,” you commented, lifting your glass of water up in agreement before tilting it back for a drink.

He let out a breath of relief that lasted only a second when he saw you reach over to pick up the onigiri with toppings he picked out for you. He held his breath as you took a bite, not expecting to see your eyes widen so fast, snapping your head down to the innocent rice ball that now sported a bite mark.

“Shio kombu cheese?” you say hurriedly, holding the onigiri closer to your face.

Osamu steps forward, “Do ya like it?”

You take another bite, chewing slowly, savoring the flavors as they melded in your mouth, and your eyes nearly begin to water.

“I never thought someone other than my grandfather would be weird enough to come up with this,” you laughed, scarfing down the rice ball in less than two seconds. “Yet here it is.”

“It’s not weird,” he defended, “It’s refined.”

You laugh as you dive into a story from your childhood spent sitting in this exact restaurant. Osamu listens intently as you recount how many different failed recipes your grandfather had forced you to ty and review, helping him decide what to put on the menu, or which combinations would bring in the businessmen that always seemed to just walk passed the restaurant.

He tells you of the tantrum his brother threw when he told him he was quitting volleyball, but still, Atsumu was his first sale. You pester him about his secret ingredient, and give him an incredulous look when he says it’s the rice. (“My old volleyball captain is a rice farmer.” “… what an interesting volleyball team.”)

The furniture was different, and the lay out was unfamiliar, but the atmosphere around Osamu’s counter had brought you right back into your childhood, reminding you of all the reasons why you loved what you did in the first place.

Long after your plates had been emptied, and the hour hand on the clock had extended way passed closing time, you finally paid for your meal, stood up from your seat and prepared to take your leave.

“Thank you for the meal, and the conversation,” you lean forward to read his name tag, “Miya-san.”

“Osamu,” he corrects, and raises an eyebrow at you.

You tell him your name, and Osamu repeats it in his mind over and over again.

“Come back soon,” he calls out his usual greeting as you walked out the door, but it felt different when he said it to you.

“I will,” you smile, waving a hand before stepping into the night, leaving Osamu with a dizzy head and fluttering stomach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

In the following weeks since his late night encounter with you, Onigiri Miya had ceased to be a simple stop along someone’s route to work, or an afterthought on the way home.

One could imagine Osamu’s surprise when he arrived an hour and half before he was due to open, and already a line began to form down the sidewalk. He thought, perhaps it was a fluke, or maybe there was some sort of business convention in town nearby – something to explain the sudden spike in popularity.

Yet day after day, the crowds of people came to him by the dozens, climbing over each other to get a taste of his cooking. He couldn’t stop to wonder how long this was going to last, barely having the time to stop and give himself a break.

He finally realizes it’s not merely coincidence when the lines get longer, yet the faces he sees stay the same. Osamu remembers every single face that walks through the doors of Onigiri Miya, and it’s the ones that he sees over and over that truly give his restaurant its meaning.

The last customer of the dinner rush left thirty minutes ago when Osamu’s phone rang.

“‘llo,” he greets, sandwiching the phone between his ear and shoulder as he sweeps the floor, thinking about how he needed to start looking for someone to hire.

“Hey, asshole,” the voice of his twin comes through loud and clear, “When were ya gonna tell me ya invited that food blogger to your restaurant? And how the hell did ya get them to like your garbage cooking?”

Osamu stops in confusion, grabbing the phone and holding it up himself. “Did ya finally get hit in the head a little too hard at practice? What the hell are ya talking about?”

Atsumu curses at Osamu, telling him to hold on a second as he sends him the link.

Osamu pulls the phone away from his ear for a second, quickly pressing on the blue url that popped up from Atsumu’s chat bubble.

It took a second for it to load, but when it did, Osamu’s jaw dropped

ONIGIRI MIYA IS AN ONIGIRI MUST HAVE by L/N Y/N

Beneath the obnoxious title was a photo of his sign, shining brightly against the wooden panels of his building, looking very much like a beacon for those searching for the perfect plate.

“Your shop is all over the internet and I had to find out about it on my news feed?! What the hell kinda brother are ya...”

Atsumu’s voice faded into the background as Osamu read the flattering words you had written about his restaurant. You complimented the decoration he had been insecure about, and he chuckled at the way you had described the fluffiness of his rice. He was captivated by your use of prose, painting the perfect picture of exactly everything he wanted his food to convey.

It wasn’t until he got to the last paragraph when he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

Though the years have passed, and the season have changed, the sentimentality of this particular shop had never lost its meaning for me. For the first time in years, I felt the soul of my grandfather, the curator of my inspiration and passion, all around the atmosphere of what is now Onigiri Miya. I have every faith that the new owner has already done him justice.

“Excuse me, are you still open?”

Osamu tore his eyes away from the screen, the very author of the only review that will ever matter to him stood a mere few feet away from his counter.

“Call you later, Tsumu,” he said hurriedly.

“Hey, wh—“

Osamu slips his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to you. You had a cheeky smile on your face as you waited patiently.

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya,” he says dryly, and you laugh at his tone.

“Should you be on your phone while you’re on the clock?” You joke as you settle in the same seat you occupied the last time you paid him a visit.

“I don’t know,” Osamu crosses his arms, “Should ya be writing articles about people without telling em?”

You winced a little at his words, holding your hands up in surrender. “You saw it then?”

Osamu nodded.

You looked to the side, rubbing the side of your arm. “Did you like what I wrote?”

Osamu smiled, uncrossing his arms and walking to the back to wash his hands. You watch him curiously as he walked back to you, and pointed to a spot on the wall directly to your right.

“That’s where I’m gonna put it,” he said, “when I print it out and frame it.”

You laughed at the seriousness of his face, and he smirked in satisfaction.

You ordered the combo #2 with a side of gyoza, letting Osamu pick the two flavors. You mentioned how you tried to visit a couple of times, but the line was always so far out the door. He realizes that he has you to thank for that, and you blush deeply when he sincerely tells you so.

“So,” you say as you munch on the honey garlic pork onigiri he prepared, “Aren’t you glad you did this instead of boring, old volleyball?”

Osamu nearly chokes at the insult. “Volleyball is not boring.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, “Let me take you to a game some time. We can eat something other than rice balls.”

You look up from the half eaten onigiri at the chef who made it so carefully, looking so bashful and nervous you couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. I would love that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

thank you for reading! reblogs are highly appreciated <33

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redphlox · 3 years

Text

How Touya can be Saved

I’ve talked before about why I think Shouto will save Touya, and now I want to talk about how. No doubt saving the eldest Todoroki child will be a combined family effort, but I want to specifically talk about Shouto’s role in this because it will be the culmination of his character arc. I also want to tie in how Dabi can make himself seen and understood by crying tears of blood in front of his family. Finally receiving validation after desperately needing it his entire life will be the key to his salvation.

As of chapter 298, Shouto already empathizes with Touya; he feels Touya’s hate and even recognizes Dabi is the person Shouto himself was before the Sports Festival. Shouto is extending his empathy and understanding to his brother the same way he reacted to Iida during the Stain arc in chapter 53, “Todoroki to Iida.”

Having empathy for Dabi’s resentment is only the first step in reaching him, though. That shared rage doesn’t completely validate Dabi’s pain as an abuse victim, which is something Shouto has yet to recognize about himself. Shouto’s anger has always been about how Endeavor abused Rei to the point she had to be institutionalized and not how Endeavor isolated him, physically abused him, and robbed him of his childhood. Shouto probably hadn’t stopped to think about how the other Todorokis perceived their family situation because, like most families in this situation, no one talked about the abuse - Shouto even expresses surprise and agreement in 192 when Natsuo confronts Endeavor with the entire family’s pain. Shouto thinks back to the memory of wanting to play with his siblings and realizes that specific day didn't only stay with him but that his siblings remember it and were impacted by it, too.

Like Natsuo, Dabi knows the root cause of their family’s dysfunction was Endeavor, and while he had a problem with what he perceived as each individual member’s blindness to their abuse, he ultimately doesn’t blame the victims and instead assigns all the blame onto Endeavor. Even 10 years later, he still calls Rei ‘okaasan’, Fuyumi ‘Fuyumi-chan’, and Natsuo ‘Natsu-kun’ because he still cares about them and recognizes all of them as victims of a corrupt hero who never set out to be a husband and a father and only used them.

However, Touya's own victimhood has never been validated - in 301 and 302, it was seen that he was the scapegoat for his family, and no matter how much he tried to earn back his father’s approval or call his father out on his unfair treatment, no one was ever on Touya’s side. His mother told him to look away from his father as an example instead of standing up to Endeavor for herself and her children, and Fuyumi and Natsuo were too young to understand and couldn't relate to what Touya went through as Endeavor's prized heir. Touya needs validation that he was abused and neglected. He always has. He still does.

The person in the perfect position to understand what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Endeavor’s impossibly high standards, obsession with surpassing All Might, and quirk training is Shouto. But in order to fully empathize with Dabi and show his brother that he can relate, Shouto needs to acknowledge that he too was a victim. In 292, Dabi basically asks Shouto to validate the pain and suffering Dabi had just exposed in the battlefield, but his question still stands unanswered.

To reach Touya, Shouto also has to show Dabi what kind of person he is - as in, Shouto has to separate himself from Endeavor’s shadow and establish that he too has been holding Endeavor accountable for his actions. We as readers know that Shouto’s entire character arc has been about asking himself, “Who am I?” Often, children who grow up in abusive households struggle with their identity and Shouto is a perfect example of this. This is why he chose his hero name to be his name: Shouto. He’s learning who he is after years of trying so hard to not be his father and becoming exactly like him - cold, distant, tunnel visioned, hateful. It wasn't until he met Inasa that he realized this and wanted to right his wrongs.

Like Inasa, Dabi doesn’t know Shouto at all. Both Inasa and Dabi knew Endeavor and assumed Shouto would be just like him. Inasa had a valid reason to think this of Shouto of course, because Shouto was standoffish and dismissive during the UA entrance exams, but at the time of the provisional license exam Inasa hadn’t learned that Shouto had recognized this toxic side of himself and had begun working towards the kind of person he wants to be. Shouto had to show Inasa the real him, and in a similar way, he will have to prove this to Dabi. Dabi hasn’t seen Shouto struggle with his identity like we the readers have; Dabi only sees his usurper making headlines and willingly interning with Endeavor. He probably assumes Shouto is proudly training to carry their father’s legacy. Dabi isn’t privy to the nuanced relationship Shouto or their siblings have with their father. All Dabi knows is that Endeavor is seeing and paying attention to Shouto and Shouto seemingly submitting. Dabi has no idea THIS is how it really is:

Showing others who he is is a way for Shouto to process his own trauma and establish his identity. As the son of the #2 hero, Shouto has always had to prove himself to others - that he’s not his father. He’s even had to prove this to himself by accepting his fire side and making it his own in spite of his father repeatedly calling him a creation or a masterpiece. Not being like his father is such a defining trait for Shouto that he feels compelled to tell kindergarteners during the re-licensing exam his life story and his trauma. He literally bore his heart out to these kids because he knew he wouldn’t get through to them unless he was genuine. I think he’ll apply this concept to Touya, too.

The thing about Shouto is that, while he hasn’t reconciled with his own status as an abuse victim, he sees himself as a survivor. He sees himself as someone who managed through a difficult situation and wants to help others get through their struggles too. That's why getting through to these kids was so important to him, why he took it so seriously. These were problematic kids, and instead of calling them brats or trying to intimidate or manipulate them, he tries to get down to their level and relate. Notice he emphasizes how much he struggled in school at first, how his relationship with his father is strained - in his mind, it's something these kids may be able to relate to.

Shouto is someone who sets out to understand and make others feel seen and understood. It's what makes him kind. Shouto probably understands why his father abused the entire family - Endeavor's reasons don't excuse him or earn his children's forgiveness, but it's a reason that humanizes him to Shouto. He himself was a cold, bitter person who now believes people can change if given the right opportunity and self-awareness because this is a lesson he's learned from Midoriya and Inasa. This is also something Shouto can grant Touya: understanding, a listening ear, space to be wrong, and a chance to be seen.

Touya wanted and still craves to be seen, and he has to see in return. He has to realize Shouto isn't his father's puppet. He has to relate to Shouto much like Shouto is relating to him. Shouto will have to pull the same move he pulled on those kindergarteners and tell Dabi his struggles, and then show him he’s making his own path different from their father’s and that the family isn’t blindly following Endeavor anymore or letting him do what he wants. Natsuo has stood up to him, Rei has stood up to him, Fuyumi has admitted to herself she had been trying to play a happy family instead of fixing the internal mess - they as a family will have to show Dabi all of this, and he’ll have to wrap his head around it. He has to realize that his family is different from how they were 10 years ago. This is what I mean by allowing Touya space to be wrong - it’s okay for him to be wrong in assuming all these things about Shouto. Shouto won’t judge him for it.

I've talked before about how the narrative framing as of chapter 309 has set up that a person must express their feelings in a socially acceptable manner before they can be a candidate for saving, and that means crying. As soon as Midoriya saw a glimpse of little Tenko crying, he switched his mentality from "I'll never forgive you" to "I want to save that crying boy." When Toga ran away from Ochako crying, Ochako became concerned and curious. Following this pattern, it makes sense that Dabi also has to show his emotions, but it’s complicated because he can’t cry due to his burnt tear ducts. Every time we’ve seen him cry tears of blood, he’s been alone - he’ll have to cry in front of Shouto and the family for it to sink in that all of Dabi’s destruction and hate stems from deep-seated sorrow and feelings of abandonment. The family does not yet know how the fire that killed Touya started, and they have no idea that Touya’s emotions are linked to his fire and that he died because he was feeling overwhelmingly forsaken and sad. Once they find out, however, they’ll fully understand Touya (hopefully) and recognize they haven’t been understanding him at all. Saving Touya will be difficult because he has to be vulnerable and that's not something he's done as Dabi, but that's where the Todoroki family arc is headed: healing as a family.

As a side note: I’m not saying that the message the manga is giving is the correct one (how you express yourself shouldn’t be a determinant of the help you receive) but it’s what we have to work with. I also think saving Touya will be more complicated than this and will also involve Natsuo, but that’s a meta for another day! ;]

#bnha #dabi #touya todoroki #shouto todoroki #my meta #inasa yoarashi #bnha spoilers #Bnha meta #Mha #mha spoilers

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carryonthroughtheages · 3 years

Text

Hello everyone!

Another year of Carry On Through The Ages is over and done! We have emotions and exhaustion, but we're so happy that this year had the hype and excitement that it did.

Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, to all of the AMAZING creators who spent the last several months working away at their historical content!

Thank you also to the hard-working mods: @bazzybelle, @giishu, @palimpsessed, and @xivz . This fest would not have been as successful as it has been without you!

We encourage everyone to look under the page break for all the fics and art. They're all fantastic!

Here is the link to the AO3 Collection: Carry On Through The Ages 2021!

Thank you all, and until next year! 🧡🧡🧡

MONDAY:

1) sun on the sea (T) - @trenchcoat-moth : AO3 // Tumblr

Tensions run high in England, and Malcolm decides it's for the best he sends Baz to live with Fiona, where he'll be safer.

That is, until Baz's ship is attacked.

2) The Words I Long To Say (M) - @bazzybelle : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow was dead.

Baz Pitch was sure of it. Simon had gone away seven years ago to fight a war in the jungle and he hadn't come home.

So, when Simon shows up in Baz's club, investigating a string of brutal murders, all Baz wants to do is hold him close and never let him go.

But these aren't the same boys from 1960 and Baz has a lot of processing to do before he's ready to believe in Simon again.

3) we are slaves to gods, whatever gods are (M) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 // Tumblr

I don’t fully understand what plagues him, but I know it’s bad, and I know it goes deeper than guilt. He didn’t want to kill his father, not really, but we were instructed to do so by Apollo. Cleanse the house of its sins, dispose of a murderer to set things right. It was only right that I join him; he was avenging my mother as much as his. Clearly, Apollo didn’t seem to consider that such an act would make Simon a murderer in his father’s place. It seems I got off fine, but as far as Simon is concerned, the vengeful spirits that once spun and danced on the roof of the palace now hunt him down, determined not to stop until he rids the world of himself.

4) World War II Era Art - @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr

TUESDAY:

1) the art of loving you (E) - @one-more-offbeat-anthem : AO3 // Tumblr

1955. London. Young love.

Forbidden love.

A year ago, starving artist Simon Snow met Baz Pitch, son of a wealthy art patron, at a party, and their days (and nights) together have been a wonderful secret.

But Simon is tired of being a secret and knows it's time for things to end.

(Baz has other ideas.)

2) Reliquary of an Arsonist (T) - @tea-brigade : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon Snow grew up a ward of Watford Abbey, but when his magic manifested in an explosive accident as a child, he became the Abbey’s anchorite—never to leave Watford’s walls, for his own protection. That is, until Abbot David sends him on an important errand…

Basilton Pitch paints portraits for his patron, Lord Grimm. But he’s never forgotten the magic he learned from his mother—nor the men who condemned her to death as a heretic. When Simon arrives and offers Baz a commission from Watford Abbey, he sees his chance to avenge his mother once and for all...and he’s willing to burn down everything in his path to that end.

But it was no coincidence that pulled these two unlikely souls together. Something more sinister is underway at Watford Abbey, and only Simon and Baz can uncover the truth before everything goes up in flames.

3) Westward Son (E) - @aristocratic-otter : AO3 // Tumblr

Simon and Baz have found each other again, but there's nowhere in Brooklyn or Virginia where they can safely be together. So now, they venture the hazards and struggles of the Oregon trail, to perhaps find a little homestead in Oregon of their own.

4) A Way Out (T) - @lying-on-the-sofa : AO3

I frown at him..“You don’t know me.”

He offers his hand. “Simon.”

Simon. I feel the name around in my mind and assign it to his face. Simon. I don’t shake his hand. They’ve still got my arms pinned. “Basilton.”

Simon nods at me. “Now we know each other. Let him go.” Very casually, he takes his other hand from behind his back. A sword, flashing. He leans on it and smiles invitingly. “Let him go.”

This time, they listen.

Simon Snow has been trained for years to become a tribute—one of the fighters Athens sends every ninth year into the Minotaur’s labyrinth. He wants to know the way out, if only for Penny’s sake. Luckily for him, Prince Basilton of Crete also wants a way out—off the island, where no one will know he’s the half-brother of the Minotaur.

Unluckily for both of them, they don’t exactly form the most agreeable pair.

WEDNESDAY

1) long is the road the leads me home (G) - @wellbelesbian : AO3 (Version 1) (Version 2) // Tumblr

Baz has a rather unremarkable life, and he's fine with that. Running his late mother's beloved inn with his temperamental aunt, estranged from his father and step-siblings, he's successfully convinced himself that he's better off without attachments.

Then Simon barrels into his life, guns blazing and rapier drawn, and Baz is swept up in dramatic plot he never bargained for.

Worse still, he finds he quite likes the thrill.

2) New Romantics (T) - @ninemagicks : AO3 // Tumblr

Basilton Pitch, twenty-two years old and a famed poet of the Romantic era, has fled to the countryside. In Mummers House, the fabled haunt of literary greats, he sulks himself into oblivion and awaits a sad, disappointing end to his brief years of brilliance. The cause of his downfall? None other than Simon Snow, the so-called “bad boy of English poetry”, breaker of rules and eternal thorn in his side. Baz hopes that Mummers House might mean an escape from London, from Snow and his increasingly virulent popularity... but the rain that comes has other ideas.

3) thnétos (T) - @snowybank : AO3 // Tumblr

thnétos: subject to death, mortal

a retelling of Apollo and Hyacinthus

4) A Medieval AU art piece - @thewriterxj : Tumblr

THURSDAY

1) From Eden (E) - @orange-peony : AO3 // Tumblr

I wonder if his skin is warm or cold to the touch. I tell myself it’s simple curiosity, that I’m an artist and capturing things on paper or canvas is my way to make sense of the world. That drawing him feels so natural, so I should just follow my instincts. Ebb used to say it all the time. Follow your heart. It knows where you’re supposed to go.

I wish I could. I wish I had enough money and freedom to just draw what I want. To paint him in his unattainable beauty. To draw him the way I want to. Naked and vulnerable, raw. Without frills and expensive suits.

Just Baz on paper, my fingers tracing his delicate and beautiful lines with simple charcoal.

2) Slings and Eros (M) - @palimpsessed : AO3 // Tumblr

Young god of love Simonides is tasked by his father, the god of war, to bring about the ruin of a mortal prince to punish his blasphemy. However, once Simonides sees his intended victim, he begins to have misgivings. Prince Tyrannus might have offended the gods with his very existence, but all Simonides can see is how beautiful and lonely he is.

Or, a very loose interpretation of the Eros and Psyche myth.

3) I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire (M) - @knitbelove : AO3 // Tumblr

September 1940: Going back to Watford feels different this year, and not just because England is at the brink of war with Germany and Italy. Penelope seems unsettled by everything, and Agatha is distant, and Baz is … simply not here.

What if Carry On but during the Blitz?? Yeah.

4) A Fool's Oath (M) - @thewriterxj : AO3 // Tumblr

A simple soldier is invited to join the ranks of the royal guard. He and his appointed mage arrive at the royal city to find themselves at the mercy of an unmerciful court. As he struggles to find his place in this foreign environment, he also finds himself entranced by music that only he seems to hear that floats out about the city. He makes an oath to wed whoever makes such beautiful music.

Too bad that person is the crown prince.

FRIDAY

1) Stranger Tides (T) - @tea-brigade & @xivz : AO3 // Tumblr

“If some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will endure…” Captain Simon Snow of the Chosen One is many things—cunning, handsome, ruthless. Greedy. It’s no surprise that Snow finds a way to piss off the God of the Sea, he always manages to get himself into some type of trouble. This time, however, he’s not the only one who will suffer the consequences. Poseidon promises to not stop his pursuit until Snow and all of his men are dead.

Enter Basilton Pitch—rich, beautiful, mysterious. Suspicious. He offers the crew of the Chosen One a hefty sum to take him back to Europe from the Caribbean. And who is Captain Snow to refuse so much coin? After all, Greek gods aren’t real.

Right?

2) The wayward heir [comic] (M) - @letraspal : AO3 // Tumblr

Like a folk song, our love will be passed on. Simon Snow wants to be an artist. He used to live in Fiesole where he worked in the wool shop of his good friend Ebeneza Petty. He has now chosen to return to his native Florence in order to participate in an art contest hosted by the Pitch family, the most important bankers in all the three continents and Simon’s last chance for an art patronage. No matter how much he hates them.

But being back in Florence also brings back the memories Simon wanted to leave behind : his days as an orphan, the mystery about his mother, and once more being under the inquisitive eyes of his godfather, the new archbishop Davy. The archbishop is very same man who would never forgive him for dropping out the priesthood and ruining his secret plans against the Pitches.

The last thing Simon needed was an unbearably handsome jerk getting him into trouble on his very first day in Florence. How can focus when this man is the most annoying person he has ever met and yet his major source of inspiration.

3) Prohibition Blues (T) - @heyyyandrea : AO3

Simon Snow is a baker and aspiring playwright in Prohibition Era New York City. When he meets a handsome man at Shepherd's speakeasy who is interested in his work, he can't help but think it feels too good to be true.

4) Earth Below & Sky Above (M) - @phoxphyre : AO3 // Tumblr

In the depth of the palace of King Minos of Crete lurks a creature known as the Minotaur.

Baz, prince of Athens and chosen of the god Poseidon, has heard the stories. And now he’s volunteered to come to Crete as one of the annual tributes—to dance with the king’s bulls and fulfill his destiny. He just wants to survive the bulls, protect his people, and go home.

But what if the Minotaur isn’t a monster—but just a boy? And what if instead of slaying him, Baz fell in love with him?

A Carry On retelling of the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, set in Bronze Age Crete.

5) A 1980s AU Art piece by @stardustasincocaine : Tumblr // Instagram (Slightly NSFW)

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bloodycassian · 3 years

Text

** PT 2 Azriel x reader - enemies to acquaintances PT 2. ** - reader gets a backstory, they clear another enemy camp together and bond more. Azriel apologizes.

Slight TW for violence/domestic abuse mention. Trying to keep reader as genderless as possible but sometimes I inherently switch to using woman POVs- asks still very open ;)

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"It seems I owe you an apology." Rhys began, pacing at the end of the makeshift bed the healers had set up for you. Your stomach rolled with nerves. His tone was not genuine, and you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. The healers buzzing nearby suddenly found different things to do.

Azriel and Cassian stood at the edge of the canopy, the drizzle of rain making their armor shine. "Azriel informed me of your injury- I'm impressed with your bravery." He smiled, his dark eyes making him look like a snake.

You glanced to the shadowmaster, who nodded the slightest amount. "Did you receive my message from him?" You asked, and when he had a genuine wide grin - showing almost too many teeth - it gave you chills.

"I did in fact. I wish the same to you." He said with that deadly calm. Cassian tried to hide his laugh, Azriel remained stonefaced. "Let's take this to the war tent. Whenever you are...suitable." he glanced to your wing, still stained with crusted dry blood.

You felt your cheeks heat slightly, and nodded. He strode out from the healers canopy and into the rain without a look back. The generals followed him, Azriel glancing back to you only for a second.

Once you had mustered the strength to get out of the cot, you thanked your healers. They insisted on giving you healing potions before you departed. And tried to get you to promise to come back for a check in daily. Mobility tests, stretches and strength building. You gave them loose affirmations and took the potions without putting up too much of a fight, given that the wing still ached slightly. Two days of rest had done a lot for the healing process, but it would take at least a week before it was fully healed.

The short walk to the war tent was cold as the mist of rain poured down. Many of the soldiers were inside or drunkenly asleep in the mud. Sitting around and waiting was not an ideal situation with a thousand males ready to fight all around.

You pushed open the tent, shaking out your jacket on the pelt rug. Earning a scowl from the high lord, seated at the head of the table again. "This one tells me you were a sight to see in the skirmish." He said, gesturing to the shadow master.

You glanced to Azriel, his face was blank but his cheeks had gone a duskier shade of brown. "But maybe I took that the wrong way, and what he meant was that you were a disaster, considering someone managed to put a hole in to your wing." He laced his fingers together in front of him. You curled your lip at him, ready to tell him to get his ass out there and do it himself then.

Before you could, Azriel turned to the high lord, opening his mouth to protest but he was quickly silenced by Rhysand's dagger like eyes. The shadowmaster pressed his full lips together tightly. Looked to his feet, as if in shame. It made your head thrum with adrenaline filled rage. Rhysand - the most powerful high lord in history - coudlnt get off his ass to take care of some second class Attors himself? Perfect. Just your luck. Being hired out like the hundreds of your kind before you, only it was worse because you weren’t even getting any gold from it.

"We now have a bigger force than originally planned coming directly at us." He said softly, a dark wind organizing enemy pawns on the table to show where they spread out. how they had your forces stuck against a wall of mountains.

"Because you were brave enough to somehow miss the group of Attors flying away..." He glared those snake eyes at Azriel again, then Rhys let out a bitter laugh. He was upset, understandably so. You could admit that. But it wasn't your fault he decided not to believe you in the first place.

You glanced to Azriel. His face was grave as his high lord tore into both of you with a tone of a disappointed parent. Like your parent. The thought of your father made your jaw clench, your teeth grind together as you fought to not begin screaming at Rhysand.

"The two of you will see to it that this is taken care of." He took a breath, gesturing to the pawns on the table. "There is a ravine to the west of here-" His dark gifts had the pawns lifting in the air. A fist of fear clenched your stomach. You had forgotten just HOW powerful he was.

"If you cut off the bridges their advancement will be paralyzed. We then may be able to regroup and massacre our way through this group here-" He pointed to the north, a smaller force lay there. Without the flanking force able to be a threat behind you it would work. Your strategist mind flushed out the plan.

"I expect you both to fix this - as you both caused this issue. I want it done before dawn comes." The pawns he held in the air turned to dust on the table, making a neat pile before the dark lines that indicated the ravine. Hitting his point home, in a non subtle way you supposed. Arrogant cock of a high lord.

"It will work, Rhys." Cassian said softly. He glanced to Azriel. His eyes were pinned to your wing. Your stomach flipped, you glared at Rhys. Before you could call out his plans' faults - or how terribly he was treating you and your considerable 200 units in his army- you saw Cassian shaking his head slightly at you. He rested a hand on Rhys' shoulder. The gesture stood out. The cocky high lord had a sensitive side, perhaps. Your lip curled at the thought.

As if sensing your disgust with him, Rhysand's lip curled "Now get out." He said, voice low and gravely. Cassian gestured for you and Azriel to follow him out. Rhysand reminded you so much of your own father it made you want to spit. A territorial, abusive cock without enough dignity to spare your family name.

You took a deep breath of cold air, hoping to clear your mind. It did little to shake the tension in your shoulders, or the stiffness in your jaw. Making a mental checklist of the weapons you needed to bring, you noticed Azriel following you. Or seeming to.

The shadow singer stalked past your tent, going to the west where the bridges were. "What are you doing?" You asked, jogging to catch up with him. He was already fording through the tall shrubs and grasses by the time you caught up.

"Taking care of it. I can fix it myself." He growled. You tried to keep up with him, but the jostling was upsetting your injury.

You put a hand on his shoulder, "Wait, hey." He shrugged you off, scoffing to himself. "I should have gone alone in the first place. I dont understand why he had to send you." He muttered, stalking deeper into the forest. The rain didn't reach you here, under the darkening shadows and mist.

Rage erupted inside you at his words - and you called out the only thing you could think of that might stop him. If he wanted to fight he could damn well stop and have an actual fight with you. "I guess you are just like all the other Illyrians after all." Your blood rushed in your ears, seeming to dampen the sound of everything. The dull hiss of the rain hitting the trees above was barely audible.

He stood rigid, wings flaring over his shoulders, growing larger with the shadows writing around them. "Do you even have a clue what real Illyrians would do to you right now if you were talking to them like this? What a normal male would do?" He was close. Too close for comfort. Too close to not be fighting or fucking.

"Considering my father was a very real Illyrian, yes" He stuttered at that. You'd never seen him do such a thing. It would have been funny if that angry set of his features didnt come back. You were ready for more fighting, more yelling but his face went slack, and his eyes met yours finally. They were no longer the cold dark color like in the tent with Rhysand. They were a hazel that matches the warm colors of pine bark in summer. Your heart clenched at the sight of it.

"You're like the Peacemakers, then." He muttered, referencing the old tales of mighty warriors with mixed breeding. Unfortunately a lot of that breeding was not willing. It usually never was, and it had ruined two generations of Illyrian and Peregyn pairings. "Axios was always my favorite." He smiled at the memory. You bit your lip, remembering the true stories of each hero. Not the bastardized verisons peddled throughout the realm.

The offspring became ostracized and cast out of most communities. On Prythian and on the continent. The ones who survived long enough to become trainable though were given the name Peacemakers for a reason. Known for hired bloodletting, no questions asked.

"I hope your end is not met like theirs." He seemed to shudder at the thought. All the anger boiled out of you at his concern.

You felt the shame begin to creep up around you. You had sold your services to make ends meet at times. It always left you with a sickening feeling in your gut after. As if the Mother herself was disappointed. "You can help that not happen." You said softly, voice barely audible. If you weren't so deep into the forest you doubted even his shadows could have heard you. "I need.. I need to find my father." Your voice trembled, he approached you slowly. Like he was approaching a wild animal.

"It might seem-" He began coaxing, holding a hand out to you. Just like he had the other night. A question, a temptation.

"I know your pain, shadowsinger." You took his hand, letting him lead you to a fallen tree. The soft moss growing on it was a welcome seat after walking for so long following him into the woods. "He would beat my mother and would pluck her feathers." You were grateful for your mother every second she put into resisting his influence for you. For keeping him at bay until you grew enough to be sent to the Peregryn camps for training. She never revealed your cross breeding, only that you had your wings and could use them well. Only because she had taught you.

Azriel was quiet for a long moment, his shadows moving slowly like waves around your ankles together. "I'm - sorry.. .about your mother. I didn't know." He whispered, pausing and cursing to himself. "I can help you find him. We can look, but we need to get through those enemy lines first. I need you to help me do that." He grasped your hand lightly, as if asking.

"Lets slice some attor, I guess." You sniffed, the cold making your nose run. At least, you blamed it on that.

The camp was mostly asleep by the time you got there. Under the cover of nightfall you were able to silently end most of the Fae that lurked in the camp. With everything going so smoothly, your heart lurched at the sight of Azriel falling backwards, a calling horn in his hand. His siphons flared, and it shattered. But left his siphons dull. He winced as he rolled out of the winging range of a fellow Illyrian with a flail in one hand and a mace in the other.

"Traitorous bastard." Azriel grappled with the Illyrian commander, but they were evenly matched. They knew all the same moves, sparring and sword wise. You launched yourself through the scattered bodies lining the clearing, dodging over puddles of blood and forgotten weapons. The commander had Azriel in a hold that had his wings flipped outward, and the male took the opportunity. He pressed his boot against Az's back and pulled them backward, bending them father than was natural. You roared, not bothering to waste the time to draw your weapon.

You barreled into him, Azriels hands still reaching backwards to claw at his hands. He toppled over a stack of bodies, yanking you down with him. You scrambled away from him, hands clambering for any weapon. By the time you turned back around to face him, Azriel had already put him on his knees before you. Bending the males wings back just as he had done to the shadow singer.

Your borrowed blade went through his throat, pinning him to the ground as he kneeled. He looked like a statue in the position.

You spat on the body. "Dont touch wings, asshole." You muttered. Azriel stared at you, as if in shock. You picked up a better looking sword from the ground nearby, wiping it on the cloth inside of your armor sleeve. "What?" You asked. Azriel seemed stunned silent. He seemed shocked in place. After you were sure there were no rogues readying to flee or informants spying, You took a breath, returning to him where he still stood beside the body of the commander.

You pointed back at the winged body speared to the ground behind him. Smiling, you titled the pose. "A prayer to the mother." His eyes went somehow even wider.

Then he broke out in laughter. You couldnt help but join him, the high of battle making you both delirious. You laughed at his laugh, the stupid face he made laughing back at you. Laughed at the half spoken words that were cut off by more breathless giggles.

Your sides ached by the time you both sat around the enemy fire, enjoying their spoils of war from a nearby town. The roasted duck smelled particularly good. Azriel heated a pot of tea over the coals, throwing in fresh pine needles from a tree nearby.

"You know-" He handed you your cup of tea. It was warm in your palm, but his hands were still somehow hotter than the boiling water. He blew on his cup, the steam not going much farther than what his shadows allowed. They seemed to almost play in it. "I am sorry about your mother. I understand why you regard some of us with such...distaste." He put the lid back on the pot and took it off the fire. He looked so natural doing...normal things. Not just posturing for his court and killing.

You nodded in thanks, not needing too many words with him. "She fled the week after I was formally invited to train in the Peregryn ranks. He found her, and killed her for leaving him. My court holds no rules against such things. He hasn't suffered for it." Your voice shook at the end. "Yet, that is. This.." You gestured to the battlefield, the bodies behind you. "This is just along the way. Killing him will be my destiny. My retribution for my mother." You sipped your tea, letting the burn of it sink in. You hoped it would warm your insides.

"I miss my mother as well." He said, taking a gingerly sip of his tea. He stretched his wings, you could tell by the hesitant way he folded them back in that they pained him. You made a mental note to give him one of your healing potions when you returned to camp.

You sat in silence with him until that fire burned out, and only dull coals were left.

"I'm glad you both seemed to have fun. Is the camp clear?" Cassian hissed, following you to the war tent. You sipped your mead, nodding. "Yes, oh strategic one. The bridges are cut too, courtesy of yours truly." You winked at him, making him stop in his tracks. Azriel patted him on the shoulder without a word, then followed you into the tent where Rhys waited. Wrathful or not, you knew he had no rights to tell you off this time.

Azriel's hazel eyes met your own as you entered the tent together.

#azriel x reader #azriel #reader insert #acotar fic #acotar #cassian mention

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reinerispretty · 3 years

Text

reminiscence. (? x f!reader) pt11, the end.

hello everyone :) i know you’ve been waiting for this, and it’s finally here!! thank you all so much for liking this dumb idea i had at 2:30 am one night. i can’t thank you enough for all of your support and patience, so i hope you enjoy!!

pt1

pt10

MASTERLIST

After their discussion, Korra led their group to the darker parts of the Spirit World. They were far from where Iroh’s cozy home sat and it was a long walk. (Y/N’s) legs, feet, and back started hurting from how long they had traveled and how heavy her pack was. She shifted it uncomfortably, adjusting the straps on her shoulders. Mako glanced at her and tugged at her pack.

“Let me,” He said, offering to take the pack from her shoulders. (Y/N) shook her head, leaning away from him.

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own backpack,” She said, holding her chin high. Her muscles were killing her, but she was already the weakest link among her friends. She wasn’t about to act like it. Mako chuckled, shaking his head.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Bolin questioned, jogging to catch back up with his friends. He had never been in this section of the Spirit World before, and kept getting distracted by its flora and fauna. Korra shrugged.

“I guess I was looking for a sign.”

“So, you have no idea where we’re going?” Mako scoffed. Korra glared at him and (Y/N), desperate to ease the tension, spoke up.

“I think the way Korra is leading us is right. I mean, I have this feeling in my gut.”

“Feelings aren’t going to lead us to whatever took your memories.” It was (Y/N’s) turn to glare at Mako.

“Your negativity is what’s not going to lead us anywhere!” She inhaled a deep breath, looking back over to Bolin. He smiled kindly at her, his green eyes shining. Looking at Bolin was like being at peace. “I can feel a pull towards where we’re headed. It’s inviting but makes me want to run in the opposite direction. I’m sure that has to mean something.”

“It’s the only lead we have,” Korra agreed.

They walked over the plains and fields of the Spirit World until the sky began to darken. They had only been there a few hours, so it was not night passing above them, but rather the darkness of the forest that loomed ahead. Its trees sprouted from the ground and reached toward the sky, darkening everything around them. Their limbs held no leaves, only sharp and pointed edges of branches. Nothing could be seen within, only a darkness that seemed impenetrable.

(Y/N) swallowed. A chill traveled up her spine, settling deep in her bones. She was gripped with such a fear that made her chest tighten, and she looked between her friends with panic in her eyes. The forest was wholeheartedly not good, but perhaps the scariest thing about it was how familiar it had felt to her. Like the spirit had said, she had been here. She had set foot into its darkness and the feelings it gave her then were what she was feeling now.

She wrapped her fingers tightly around the straps of her backpack. This is where they needed to go. Korra looked back at her, raising her eyebrow as they approached the forest’s edge. “It’s in there,” (Y/N) said quietly.

“Are you sure about this?” Bolin asked.

“I was the one who didn’t even want to do this in the first place,” (Y/N) said.

“We’ve made it this far. There’s no turning back now.” Korra grabbed her hand. “Everyone should join hands so we don’t get separated in there.” (Y/N) couldn’t keep her eyes off of the forest, but she offered her hand for one of the boys. Bolin reached for it, but Mako beat his brother to it, his fingers slotting between hers. Bolin inhaled a deep breath and took his brother’s hand, and they set off into the forest.

As soon as they stepped foot inside, the darkness completely surrounded them. (Y/N’s) eyes took a while to adjust, and in that time she tripped over nearly every root she encountered, causing a chain reaction with Bolin and Mako. “Hey!” Mako called out as Bolin slammed into his back, and the younger brother groaned and rubbed his nose.

Korra formed a ball of fire in her hand, turning back to the rest of the group. “Maybe Mako should be on the end,” She suggested, “So he has a free hand.” Mako nodded, releasing both Bolin and (Y/N’s) hands to switch places.

“Wait,” (Y/N) said, shuffling her pack off of her shoulder. She reached deep inside the main pocket, pulling out a flashlight. “Korra, hold--” Her voice was lost as a powerful gust of wind blew through the trees. The forest did nothing to protect the group from the weight of the breeze, and (Y/N) was knocked to the ground. The wind was so strong that it pressed her down into the earth further. She could feel the cool dirt against her cheek and curled herself into a ball, holding the flashlight tight against her chest. She lay there until the wind had completely died down. The uncomfortable silence of the forest returned, and she sat up.

“Bolin?” She called out as she rose to her feet. She wiped the dirt from the side of her face and turned her flashlight on the point where Bolin should have been. He was nowhere to be found. “Mako?” She slowly rotated around herself. “Korra?” Her friends had disappeared, as had her pack, and (Y/N) was alone in the middle of the Spirit World forest.

Panic had started to creep in and she could feel tears welling in her eyes. She had already considered the forest to be scary, and that was with the company of her friends. Now that she was entirely alone, (Y/N) was terrified. The fear she felt was crippling, and all she could think to do was stand in place and wait for someone to come find her.

No, she couldn’t do that. Bolin, Korra, and Mako had all disappeared, and they wouldn’t do that on their own volition. As far as she knew, she was the only one with a flashlight. She had to find them.

She pointed the light ahead of her, or at least, what she believed to be ahead, and started stepping and climbing over the gnarled branches. Part of her wondered if she could call for them. What if she drew the attention of some Spirit World monster? She doubted a rough understanding of hand-to-hand combat would help her in that situation.

(Y/N) inhaled a deep breath. “I’m not scared,” She called out into the forest. It was a lie, but whatever being was out there didn’t need to know that. “I know you’re trying to scare me by separating me from my friends, but it’s not going to work!” She continued moving forward, swiping the flashlight in front of her. “At this point, you’re just making me angry, and you don’t want to see me angry!” Her voice was wavering, but it was the only thing that made her feel less alone.

---

Bolin felt a bit dazed. His body was sore, as if he had been lying down on a hard surface for hours. He clenched his fists on the dirt of the forest floor. He very well could have. “Mako?” Bolin called out, the sound of his own voice sending an ache through his head. He was having trouble remembering why he was here in the first place. He had been with Mako, that much he knew, but who else?

In his mind, he saw a flash of bright blue eyes and the colors of the Water Tribe. Korra had been with them, that’s right. But what would he, Korra, and Mako all be doing in a dark forest?

“Bolin!” He heard a familiar voice call out, and in the distance he saw a light moving back and forth. (Y/N!) That was the reason they were here, to help her get her memories back. Bolin rose to his feet.

“(Y/N)!” He shouted, scrambling over the brambles of branches and brush to reach her. They pulled at his pant legs, keeping him from moving forward at the speed he was trying to move. Bolin resorted to earthbending the plants out of the way by flipping the earth on itself. He did this over and over until he had cleared enough of a path to continue moving. “(Y/N), stay there! I’m coming to you!”

Bolin wasn’t sure if she could hear him. The light was disappearing, deeper and deeper into the forest, and he worked with haste to keep up with her. He made a mental note to tell her how fast she was.

The light was fully gone now, leaving Bolin in the dark. He didn’t have time to think about what he should do. He kept earthbending and moving forward through the trees, trying to follow the direction that he had last seen the light travel. Bolin had lost (Y/N) once, and he was not about to let it happen again.

---

While the gust of wind had pushed (Y/N) to the ground and sent Bolin in a different direction, Mako awoke tangled in the branches of one of the Spirit World trees. He was terrified when he had opened his eyes, feeling his feet dangling beneath him. He could not see how high up he was, but his backpack was caught in the limbs and there was no way Mako would be able to untangle it.

He used his bending to cast a column of fire beneath him. The trees seemed impervious to his bending, but he was able to see that he was only a few feet off the ground. Mako shimmied out of his backpack and fell to the ground, landing on this back with a heavy thump. He groaned, allowing himself a few moments to lay on the ground before standing. He lit a ball of fire in both of his palms, one to light his way and the other to throw at a potential enemy.

He wasn’t in the same place he had been, this much he was sure. The trees here were considerably shorter than the ones that had surrounded his group. Mako guessed he had been tossed back toward the edge of the forest, far away from his friends. With a heavy sigh, he pressed on toward the deepest parts of the woods.

“Bolin!” Mako shouted into the darkness, pausing every few moments to see if he could hear any shuffling. “Korra!” He repeated this process, shouting all three of his friends’ names. It was likely that them being split up hadn’t been a product of the Spirit World, but rather a conscious effort by something far more sinister. As Mako walked deeper into the forest, he felt the familiar sensation of such a fear that had only gripped him a few times during life. His thoughts drifted to a certain night with his parents, but he shook them from his head.

That was what the Spirit World did, Korra had told him, especially if you weren’t careful. You needed to keep your thoughts guarded or else they would wander and the fear that you felt on the inside would be reflected on the world surrounding you. He just hoped that Korra maintained her composure, or else everything would get very bad very quickly.

---

Korra’s eyes flew open, taking a while to adjust to the bright light surrounding her. It was such a contrast from the last thing she had seen. (Y/N) had been handing her the flashlight, since they were only lit by the light of the fire in her palm. A strong wind had knocked (Y/N) to the ground and had blown out the flame, leaving Korra and everyone else in complete darkness. But that did little to explain how Korra had ended up here.

She sat up to find where here was, exactly. To her left was the darkness of the forest. To her right was a small oasis, surrounded by lush green grass. A waterfall poured shining blue water into the small pool. The sun shined down on them, despite leaving the rest of the forest completely untouched.

A twig snapped to her side and Korra jumped to her feet, poised in her fighting stance. A man exited the forest, holding up his hands in defense. To Korra, he looked like a depiction of her Uncle Unalaq, but there was something off about him. It was as if he looked like a memory of her uncle, what she would have pictured if she had not seen him in many years.

“I apologize,” The man said, a smirk reaching his lips. “I thought this form would put you at ease.”

Korra did not hesitate to react. She kicked into the air, sending a swirling column of air toward the man. He deflected it, so she punched slabs of rock at him, which he also deflected. Korra utilized every move in her arsenal, but the man simply shot her attacks away from himself.

“Please, Korra,” He chastised. His voice was similar to Unalaq’s, but not quite. It was as if many voices were talking as he spoke. “I only want to talk to you.”

Korra paused, her chest heaving and her fists clenched at her sides. “Tell me where my friends are.”

“They’re exactly where you left them, somewhat. I do hope they do not get lost in my maze, but no matter. You’re who I’ve been eager to see.”

“Who are you?” Korra demanded. The man chuckled, taking a few steps forward. He walked atop the water without making any ripples in the pool.

“I understand that you have no connection to your past lives, is that correct? A shame, really. Aang might have been able to tell you a thing or two about my brother. Or my mother. He was quite familiar with them.”

Korra’s dark brow furrowed as she thought back to all of the history lessons she had received in her training with the White Lotus. It was hard to separate what Kyoshi had done from Aang, Kuruk from Roku, without the connection of her past lives to guide her. It only added to the rage she already felt for this man before her.

The man chuckled. “Very well, if you’re lost, I will guide you. My brother is Koh, the Face Stealer. My mother is the Mother of Faces. My brother can steal a face, while my mother can restore them. I’m sure you remember the story of Prince Zuko and Ursa. Mother had given Ursa a new face and taken away her memories to ease her pain. She also restored them, years later.”

“I’m not interested in the history lesson.” Korra cracked her knuckles.

“Quite short tempered, you are. Unalaq had told me that much. He had said you wouldn’t be any fun to work with, but I’ve had great fun toying with you. Did you like the little pet I sent to you and your friends? She’s proven to be very useful in getting you here.”

Korra blinked. “You’re the one that stole (Y/N’s) memories?” The man smiled, stretching out his arms.

“Baat the Memory Stealer, at your service.” Korra waterbended from the pool, trying to unsteady him, but it was no use. He hovered above the water, amused with Korra’s actions. “Now, Korra, there’s no need to be upset. I only needed someone to help bring you back here, to me. That was your uncle’s intended purpose, but he was so power-hungry that I always knew I needed a back-up plan.”

“You ruined her life!”

Baat shrugged. “When I met her, it had seemed as if she had ruined it herself. I have been watching you a long while, Avatar. You young adults care very little for anything else except your relationships. I saw the heartbreak on (Y/N’s) face when she had seen you and the earthbender boy on your date. And then right after, she ran into the older brother. She needed a shoulder to cry on, and he left her waiting. I approached her in the park while she waited for him to arrive and offered her a cup of tea from my shop.” Baat smiled as he reminisced on the memory. “She told me of her troubles and said, ‘I just wish I could forget everything.’” His voice mimicked (Y/N’s) perfectly. “I was simply helping her.”

“If you could travel to the mortal world, why not come to me directly? Why involve her in all of this?”

“You weren’t a fully-fledged Avatar yet. You couldn’t even airbend! What use could I have for you then?” Baat stared down his nose at her. “I needed something to tug at the heartstrings, something that would guarantee that you come to me. What better than a heartbroken girl with no memories?”

Korra set her jaw. “What do you want with me?”

---

(Y/N) hissed as a tree branch snapped at her arm and rubbed at it to make the sting go away. She had been walking for ages and was unsure if she was really getting anywhere. Her flashlight was still bright, but she wasn’t certain it would last very long. None of them had been anticipating being lost in total darkness.

A flame passed through the trees just a few inches to her right, narrowly missing her. She screamed, ducking down close to the ground, before jumping back up. Flames could mean firebenders! “Korra?” She shouted into the brush, trying to step over the branches to locate the source of the blast. “Mako!”

“(Y/N)?” Mako shouted back.

“Stay where you are, I’ll come to you!” They both said at the same time. Mako clambered over the roots to reach the sound of her voice. (Y/N) shined her flashlight all around her, growing desperate to find him, until she was pointing it directly into his eyes. Mako held up his hands to shield himself from the light and (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness you’re okay!” She wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly and pressing her ear to his chest to make sure that she heard a normal heartbeat and not something Spirit World-y. She pulled away quickly and both were thankful neither could really see the blush on their face.

“Are you alright?” Mako asked, analyzing her limbs for any sign of distress. (Y/N) nodded.

“A little shaken up, but I’ll be fine. Have you seen Bolin or Korra?” Mako shook his head. (Y/N’s) hopeful face fell. She took Mako’s hand in hers. “Well, at least we’re together. We can find them better if we’re both looking.”

Mako squeezed her hand, as if to silently say that he wouldn’t be letting go this time. (Y/N) led him back from where she had come, and they started their walk. “Do you know what happened back there?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “There was the wind and then you guys were gone. I lost all of my supplies. I was worried I’d get stranded in here.” She laughed lightly to ease the mood.

“I won’t be of much help in that department. I lost my pack in a tree.”

“I don’t suppose I was a good forager when I had my memories?”

“Not unless you count digging through my pockets to look for candies.” (Y/N) pursed her lips.

Behind them, they heard the sound of an earthquake. The ground shook beneath their feet and Mako pulled (Y/N) into himself to help steady her. She shined her flashlight on the source of the movement and was grateful to see Bolin, a sigh of relief escaping her.

He paused his earthbending as he came upon them, squinting his eyes to see in the sudden bright light. (Y/N) ran over to him and flung herself around him before he even had the chance to register who she was. “Are you alright?” She questioned, analyzing his limbs the same way Mako had hers.

“I’m fine, just a little headache.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I think I got knocked out, or something.”

“We’ll get Korra to heal you once we find her,” Mako said.

“You guys haven’t found Korra yet?” (Y/N) shook her head.

“I only found Mako a few minutes ago. I’m not sure how long we’ve been in here, but staying longer doesn’t seem like a good idea. We need to find Korra and get out of here.”

“What about your memories?” Bolin set a hand on her shoulder. (Y/N) shook her head.

“It’s not worth putting you guys in danger.” She hopped down from the mound Bolin had created with his earthbending. “I mean it,” She told the two brothers. “We’re finding Korra and we’re leaving.”

---

Baat hummed, pressing his long fingers together as he thought. She had heard stories of Koh and the Mother of Faces, but she had never heard of this spirit. There were hundreds in the Spirit World, it was impossible for anyone to know them all. She wasn’t quite sure how, but she knew Baat was dangerous. He had stolen (Y/N’s) memories and could shapeshift. What else could he do?

“I have been alive for many years,” The spirit said. “I remember the days of the first Avatars. I never saw any purpose of getting involved in their lives, or the lives of mortals. You all die just as quickly as you are born. My brother, though, he loved torturing mortals. It wasn’t until your uncle arrived, that my interest was piqued. A human hadn’t been here since Avatar Wan. I could tell he had immense power, and wanted more.”

“It was only natural that he was drawn to Vaatu, but I watched. I, too, was tired of how you humans ripped the earth to shreds, and over trivial matters. You had no reverence for the spirits anymore.”

“But I opened the Spirit Portals,” Korra interjected. “I’m helping bring harmony between the two worlds.”

“Is that what you think you’re doing? You’ve interrupted life not only in your city, but in the Spirit World as well. You are too young, too rash, to usher in any sort of peace.” Baat inhaled a deep breath, shaking his head. “I knew your uncle wouldn’t be able to do it, either. He was too focused on what Vaatu could do for him. He was selfish, really. All I wanted from him was so he could bring you to me, but he failed at that. He wanted your power all to himself. What I am trying to do, Korra, is bring peace to all.”

“How are you any different from Unalaq? You want my bending to yourself. You ruined lives for it!”

Baat rolled his eyes. “Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good. You don’t think (Y/N) is better off, without her memories? I took away the pain she once had. I can take away everyone’s pain, if you would only give me what I want.”

“Why would I ever give you my power?”

“If you don’t, your friend won’t get her memories back.”

Korra wished she could talk to Tenzin, to get some guidance on what to do. There was no way that she could hand her powers over to Baat. His claim of wanting to provide peace to the world was a farce. He knew that she knew that. But they had traveled here to get (Y/N’s) memories back. How could they leave without them?

(Y/N) emerged from the darkness of the forest, with Bolin and Mako coming into view behind her. Her face lit up in relief as her eyes landed on Korra. She moved to run over to her friend, but Mako grabbed her by the elbow, his amber eyes trained on the being before them.

“Ah, (Y/N),” Baat said with a smile, extending his arms out to her. “It’s so good to see you again. I’ve enjoyed watching your journey in the mortal world.” The pool beneath him flickered, showing her laughing with Bolin over toast, diving into the river on top of Naga with Korra, practicing her hand-to-hand combat with Asami, and lastly, Mako kissing her on the balcony of the ship. (Y/N) winced, shutting her eyes tightly.

“You know him?” Bolin questioned, face looking pale from having just witnessed his brother kiss his ex-girlfriend.

“She does, she just doesn’t realize it yet.” There was nothing familiar about the spirit in front of her, but (Y/N’s) blood ran cold with icy fear. If she had been scared in the forest, she was absolutely petrified standing in front of Baat. The worst part of it all was that she couldn’t tell why she was scared. This spirit had an effect on her that terrified her. “Although she could, if Korra agrees to my terms.”

Korra’s hands clenched at her sides. She turned back to her friends. “If I don’t give him my powers, he won’t give (Y/N) back her memories.”

(Y/N) felt her stomach drop. As intimidating as the Spirit World was, she had been hopeful that somehow, they would be able to get her memories back. She would leave this place knowing who she was and knowing her place in the world.

But there was no way she could let Korra do this. She stepped out of Mako’s grip, walking down to stand beside her friend. The closer she got to Baat, the more she wanted to run, but she inhaled a deep breath and tried to pretend that her nerves were even. “Keep my memories,” She told Baat.

His smile fell immediately. “(Y/N),” Korra started, but she shook her head.

“I know what I’m doing. I know what it’s like to feel lost, Korra, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Especially not you.” She shrugged. “I’m not the same person I was and that’s okay.” (Y/N) turned to Baat, taking Korra’s hand in hers. “So we won’t be accepting your offer.”

“I suppose if you won’t give me your powers, I’ll have to take them for myself.” His appearance as Unalaq fizzled out of existence, leaving in its place a snake-like creature that towered above them. He unhinged his jaw and a beam of bright light began forming inside, pointed directly at Korra.

(Y/N) didn’t want to wait to see what would happen. She threw her flashlight upward, knocking Baat in the side of his head with the heavy metal. He went to the side and the light hit the trees, completely wilting them.

“What an arm!” Bolin cheered, forming the same mound of earth that he had been traveling on. Mako joined him, and Korra did the same with (Y/N). They earthbended as quickly as they could into the forest, but Baat was slithering behind them, nipping at their heels.

Mako utilized every firebending move he could without losing his balance. He had to defend not only himself and Bolin, but (Y/N) and Korra as well. The Avatar could only spare a few shots at the spirit until she had to return to earthbending, or else she and (Y/N) would be thrown off. (Y/N) felt helpless, wishing there was something she could do.

Something heavy came down on top of her head, nearly knocking her over. She let out a shout before realizing what it was. In the flashes of light from Mako’s firebending, she saw his pack. Their movement must have dislodged it from the trees, causing it to fall. She reached out and grabbed it before it was lost forever and began digging around inside.

She wasn’t sure if Mako had meant to take Asami’s pack, but she was pleasantly surprised to find the inventor’s electrified glove inside. If they made it out alive, (Y/N) would be sure to let Asami know just how much she loved her.

(Y/N) had no idea how this glove was supposed to be used, but she knew she needed to wait for the right moment. Baat had paused in chasing after them, and was rearing his head back to power up his light blast. “Split up!” (Y/N) shouted to Korra and Bolin. The two crossed their earthbending mounds in front of each other, hoping to confuse the serpent. Without Mako’s fire, Korra and (Y/N) were left in the darkness.

Korra kept pressing forward and (Y/N) was too worried to make a sound in case Baat had gotten them confused. All that could be heard was the movement of earth beneath them. (Y/N) was trying hard not to berate herself for these events. She had known that she had a strange feeling about being in the Spirit World. She had anticipated that there would be danger, but she never expected it to be anything like this. And now there was a giant serpent monster spirit thing chasing them so that it could gain Korra’s powers and take over the world. Fantastic day this was shaping up to be.

And while everyone was so ready to put themselves in danger for her, (Y/N) felt horrible. She couldn’t bend. She had no way of protecting her friends like they were willing to do for her.

“Thought you could hide from me, did you?” Baat’s voice loomed in the shadows. Korra paused her earth bending, leaving them both standing on top of a mound of dirt. She shot fire, air, and summoned water from the trees to attack Baat, but he was impossible to locate. The darkness of the forest surrounded them wholeheartedly.

Korra lit fire in her palms to give them at least a bit of light. She looked over to (Y/N), and she noticed the hint of fear that was in the Avatar’s eyes. He had taken (Y/N’s) memories, what if he took hers? What if he ended up getting her powers after all? There would be no one there to stop him.

(Y/N) swallowed. Korra was the strongest person she knew, and even she was scared. That thought should have terrified her. If Korra was scared, surely there was no hope for them.

(Y/N) pressed her lips into a harsh line. No. She would not allow this to happen. Her friends had been willing to risk everything for her, and she would do the same for them.

The light formed to their right, directly behind Korra. (Y/N) pushed her to the side and turned on the electricity glove. Even if it meant risking everything, she would do her best to protect them.

She leapt off of the mound of dirt and into the blinding light.

---

Asami and Tonraq had been through so many games of Pai Sho, they had lost count. Each hour that her friends were gone, Asami grew more nervous. “Does time pass differently in there?” She asked Tonraq. He smiled at her and shook his head.

Asami gnawed on her bottom lip. It had been over twelve hours since she had watched her friends pass into the Spirit World. She knew she was being overly optimistic when she had expected it to be a sort of in-and-out situation, but three of the best benders she knew were in there. Surely if something went wrong, they would be able to handle it.

She hoped that Mako had found the glove she had placed in his pack and given it to (Y/N). While (Y/N) had done great in her training, Asami knew firsthand how easy it was to forget everything as soon as you were faced with the first inkling of danger. She would have given it to (Y/N) outright, but she was sure the girl would have refused. “You need this to protect yourself!” She could hear (Y/N) insisting. Asami smiled wryly as she moved her Pai Sho tile.

Tonraq heard them before she did. The crunch of boots against snow was barely audible, but he was so much more accustomed to the silence than Asami was. He stood and Asami scrambled up to join him, leaving the Pai Sho tiles forgotten between them. Although her jacket and pants were bulky, she ran to the best of her ability to meet her friends.

The bright smile on her face faded instantly, and she brought a hand to her mouth in horror. In Bolin’s arms lay an unnaturally limp (Y/N). Her clothes were singed, and in some areas the cloth melded with her skin in horrible burns. Her head rested against Bolin’s chest, but it bobbed back and forth as he walked.

Korra looked to her father, her bottom lip trembling. “I need your help,” She said, her voice sounding authoritative yet hollow. Asami knew that she felt the need to be the strongest among everyone, but even Korra was known to falter. “I tried my best in the Spirit World, but I couldn’t get her to wake up. I--I tried really hard, Dad, I don’t know why she isn’t waking up.” Korra’s eyes welled with tears.

“Asami,” Tonraq said, and she snapped back to reality. She tore her eyes from (Y/N’s) form to look at him. “Gather all of the blankets and place them in my tent.” She nodded and started rummaging through their packs, pulling out blankets and laying them on the floor of Tonraq’s large tent. Mako soon joined her, his face looking blank and sallow. He leaned down to the firepit in the middle of the tent and lit it.

“Mako,” Asami started, but he didn’t look at her. “What happened?”

“I didn’t see it,” Mako said, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat. “She was with Korra.”

Tonraq entered the tent with (Y/N) in his arms, Bolin and Korra only a few steps behind. He lay (Y/N) atop the blankets. “I need everyone out of the tent except Korra,” He said, giving them an order but doing so gently. “She’s the only one who can help me heal her.”

Nodding, Asami pulled the two brothers out of the tent. Bolin’s eyes were rimmed red with tears, but Mako was frozen, his head hanging as he stared down at the ground. “Can someone please tell me what happened while you guys were in there?”

Bolin told Asami the whole story starting at the very beginning, from Iroh’s house to Baat chasing them through the dark forest. “(Y/N) told us to split up,” He said, struggling to form the words as sobs clawed their way up his throat. “Mako and I weren’t anywhere near them when it happened. Korra told us that Baat had been behind her, so (Y/N) noticed him first. She pushed Korra away and jumped right in his mouth, just before he used his powers on Korra.”

“We met up with them again outside the forest,” He continued. “There was a huge explosion. Korra thinks that she used your glove inside of him. When we found Korra, she was trying to heal her.” Bolin closed his eyes, trying to block the memory of (Y/N’s) lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. “Korra managed to bring her back, but she kept fading away.”

Mako remained silent, but Asami noticed as the tears he blinked away landed in the snow. “I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Asami said, trying her best to remain positive, although their odds weren’t looking great. From what Bolin had told her, it sounded like (Y/N) had been at the very center of an explosion. The electricity of the glove was enough to incapacitate anyone, but that coupled with the energy of a spirit...Asami had no clue what that could mean. At the very least, she believed it to be a miracle that (Y/N) was still in one piece.

They waited around the fire in silence as Tonraq and Korra worked. The sun was starting to rise over the horizon before they heard anything. Korra stepped out of the tent, her cheeks puffed from the tears she had shed throughout the night. Asami ran over to her first, wrapping Korra in a hug. Korra gripped her tightly, burying her face in her neck. The sobs that she had been holding in so she could work escaped her body all at once, leaving her a heaving mess in Asami’s arms.

Tears flowed freely from Asami’s green eyes. If Korra was this upset, it could only mean the worst. Mako kicked a log from the fire pit into the snow before storming off. Bolin collapsed back into his seat, staring straight ahead. He had just gotten (Y/N) back and now he was losing her all over again.

Tonraq stepped out of the tent, waiting until the friends had gained some of their composure to speak. “She’s more stable than she was,” He told them. “But I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to wake her up. We have to get her back to Kya as soon as possible.”

He radioed for Varrick, who sent one of his commercial planes to pick them up within the hour. Tonraq remained in the Southern Water Tribe, but instructed them to keep him updated on everything that was happening. (Y/N) and Korra remained in the back of the plane so she could perform healing if necessary, and the rest of the group sat tensely as they flew back to Republic City.

The plane landed on Air Bender Island and Kya and Tenzin boarded before anyone could exit. Tenzin took (Y/N) into his arms and whisked her off into the house’s back rooms. Korra stood up to follow, but Kya pressed a hand to her chest to stop her. “It’s not your fault, but you are too out of control of your emotions. You’ll do more harm than good.” With that, she went to join her brother.

Pema stepped onto the plane then. Normally she had children running at her heels, but it was as if everyone could tell the weight of today. “Why don’t you all come inside and rest?”

---

It was an entire two weeks of hushed whispers and “adult” discussions. One by one, Asami, Bolin, and Mako returned to their homes, requesting that Korra notify them as soon as there was any news. Bolin and Mako were keen on staying on Air Temple Island, but were forced by Tenzin to go home and at least change their clothes.

So Korra sat on the island and trained, trying to do absolutely anything that would keep her mind off of the girl that lay in the back room of the house. Truly, things were not going very well for Korra. The city was angry over the Spirit World vines that had grown over its property. It was like no matter what she did to make people happy, it always backfired.

Korra was fast asleep when she heard Naga growl at the door. A knock sounded against the wood, and a groggy Korra opened the door as she wiped sleep away from her eyes. Kya stood before her, a slight smile on her face. “She’s awake.”

Korra didn’t hesitate to run down the hall, Naga barreling after her. She flew through the door, startling (Y/N). Naga bounded inside, licking a stripe up (Y/N’s) cheek. The girl laughed, wiping at the slobber with a bandaged arm. “Hey, Korra,” She croaked, her voice husky from not being used for weeks.

The Avatar flew forward, wrapping her arms around her friend. “I’m--Wow! You’re back. And you remember who I am!”

(Y/N) nodded. “I remember everything.”

“Everything?” (Y/N) nodded excitedly.

“It’s a little overwhelming, having so many memories in my head now.” She squeezed Korra’s hand.

“I’m so glad you have your memories back. Now I won’t feel as bad for doing this.” She slapped an uninjured part of (Y/N’s) arm. “What were you thinking!”

“I was thinking about how you guys risked your lives to help me! And I had to do the same for you.”

“There’s only enough room for one reckless person on this team, thank you very much.” Still, Korra couldn’t help but grin. The past few months had been the hardest of her life, but at least (Y/N) was okay.

Asami was the first to arrive. She had been up late tinkering with an idea for her company, so she had come as soon as Korra told her. Much like Korra, she too hugged (Y/N) and then promptly berated her for her actions. “I wouldn’t have given you the glove if you were planning on killing yourself!”

“It was more a spur of the moment decision than anything,” (Y/N) laughed.

Bolin came next, later in the morning. Since her legs were still badly burned and she hadn’t used them in weeks, Korra wheeled (Y/N) out into the courtyard so he could see her. With her memories back, (Y/N) was overcome with emotion at the sight of him. As he approached her, she realized he was crying, too, but the smile on his face was as wide as ever.

He kneeled down so he was eye level with her. “We have to talk,” She said immediately, and Bolin’s eyes widened.

“Are you sure? You just woke up last night, we don’t have to do anything if you’re not--” She shook her head to cut him off.

“My mother made me break up with you. She said I’d lose my job if I stayed with you and with that, my house. I didn’t want to, Bolin, but I didn’t really see myself having another choice. You and Mako already struggled so much just to take care of yourselves. I thought it would just be easier if I cut things off completely. But I realized soon after that the life my mother wanted me to have wasn’t the life I wanted to lead. So I came to find you. And that’s when I saw you on the date with Korra. I didn’t know who she was, I just thought you had moved on. I ran into Mako and he told me to wait for him at the park. That’s where Baat found me, except then he looked like a very nice old lady.”

“She, or he, rather, could tell I was upset and invited me for tea. I figured I could kill a few hours before Mako was done with practice, so I went. I poured my heart out to Baat and told him that I wished I could forget everything. The next thing I know, I woke up where all of this started. I think Baat kept me in a sort of trance-like state until I could be of use to him.” She inhaled a deep breath once she finished. “I’m really sorry for all the hurt I caused you, Bolin.”

Bolin smiled and took her hand in his. “It’s okay, (Y/N).”

“I didn’t mean it when I told you I didn’t love you.” Bolin knew her well enough to hear the “but” before it came. “I loved you so much, Bolin.”

“But if things had been different…” He trailed off. The sting was much lesser than it had been before. Bolin supposed this was only natural. It had been over a year since they had been together. If he really dove into his own feelings, he had a hard time discerning between nostalgia and the present.

“Are you mad at me?” (Y/N) asked, her voice incredibly soft. Bolin’s green eyes flashed.

“Of course I’m not mad at you,” He said. “You have to do what’s best for you. Just...promise me you won’t disappear again?”

(Y/N) grinned, wrapping her arms around Bolin’s shoulders. “I promise.”

Mako couldn’t arrive until later in the day, when the sun was already beginning to set over Republic City. He had gotten the news that (Y/N) was awake earlier in the day, but he had already been at work, and there was no way the Chief would let him off his shift after a two week vacation. He rushed to Air Temple Island as soon as he was relieved. He would have extra paperwork to do in the morning, but he figured it was worth it.

Korra directed Mako to where (Y/N) sat in the gazebo. They had moved a bench there so she could sit and get some more fresh air. He cleared his throat as he approached her from behind. (Y/N) turned to look back at him, a smile on her face.

“Nice uniform,” She quipped. “Are you gonna ticket me?” He glanced at the wheelchair to her side.

“Only if you don’t follow the speed limit,” He said back, and (Y/N) laughed. He took a seat beside her on the bench. “How are you feeling?”

“My head feels really heavy,” She told him. “I never thought memories carried so much weight, but it feels like I’ve got ten bricks on my shoulders.”

“You have your memories back?”

She nodded. “Every single one of them. I wished I could’ve let go of the embarrassing ones, but oh well.” They sat for a few moments, watching the sun crawl further and further below the horizon.

(Y/N) hadn’t anticipated how many memories she would have of Mako. She saw flashes of cheering him and Bolin on at their probending competitions. He used to bring home her own order of dumplings whenever he brought Bolin’s. Giving her his jacket when they were caught in the rain, and Mako’s lips turning up at the corners at a joke she had told. But one memory stood out above them all, so apparent that she wondered how Baat had even been able to erase it.

She remembered the memory that Mako had shared with her a few weeks back, while they sat around the fire pit before entering the Spirit World. They had sat for hours together, just talking, until Bolin had gotten home. (Y/N) had gone up to bed with him, but returned downstairs a few hours later, battling a fit of sleeplessness. She had been surprised to see Mako still sitting on the couch, listening to the low hum of the radio.

“Can’t sleep?” She had whispered, and Mako’s eyes snapped up to look at hers. He gave her a half smile before nodding. She had joined him on the couch, pulling her knees into her chest. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Mako said dismissively, but (Y/N) had been around him enough to know when he was lying.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” She said. “But I’m always here for you, Mako. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“I’ve got Bolin.”

“And me, too.” Mako remained silent, so (Y/N) hadn’t pressed further. Instead, she hummed along to the music playing on the radio. “Do you know this song?” It was something slow and sweet, lacking any vocals but the instruments succeeded in carrying it.

Mako nodded. “Mom and Dad used to dance to it.”

(Y/N) stood, offering Mako a hand. “Dance with me?” He stared at her, an amused eyebrow raised. “As friends,” She had added, because for some reason she felt the need to clarify.

“I can’t dance,” Mako admitted. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him to his feet.

“It’s not that hard, unless you’re doing some super advanced moves.” She slotted her fingers in his and placed his other hand at the small of her back. She rested her other hand at the back of his neck. “You just move in time with the music.” She stepped back, and Mako’s foot followed her. They stepped around the living room, Mako’s eyes flickering between (Y/N’s) face and their feet the entire time. “You’re doing great!” She exclaimed quietly.

“I think I’m supposed to be leading.”

“I thought you couldn’t dance?” Mako smirked as if he was hiding a secret from her. As far as (Y/N) knew, he could have been.

At the very heart of the song, where the music was the most powerful, he spun her around with one arm. (Y/N) let out a surprised squeak before having the breath knocked out of her by Mako dipping her down. She stared up at his amber eyes, taking note of how their faces were only inches apart.

He brought her back up and (Y/N) had felt dizzy, although she wasn’t sure if that was from the spin or being so close to Mako. He gave her an amused bow. “Thanks for the dance,” He said, before retiring to his bedroom.

In the present day, (Y/N) inhaled a deep breath. She hadn’t realized it then, but she had always felt something for Mako. And it was stronger now than ever before.

Without looking at him, she inched her hand closer to his, wrapping her fingers around his gloved hand. Mako stared at her, surprised. “I thought you remembered everything about you and Bolin.”

She nodded, still refusing to look at him. If she did, she feared that she would lose her nerves. “I do. But I remember everything about you, too, and--” She sighed. “I’m doing a horrible job at this.”

“I’m having fun,” Mako told her, and she glared at him. Her heart nearly melted at the soft expression on his face. Mako rarely showed such tender emotion.

“I need to do something and I need you to be quiet while I do it,” She told him, and Mako chuckled at the callback to that night on the balcony. She leaned forward slowly, her heart beating a thousand beats a minute. Every nerve in her body felt like it was short circuiting and she paused, looking up at Mako. He smiled down at her before meeting her in the middle and pressing their lips together.

For weeks, (Y/N) had thought that the part of her that had been missing were her memories. As it turned out, it was Mako.

---

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rivers-rambles21 · 3 years

Text

The one with the marathon

Part 7 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

Mentions of PMS in this chapter! I’ve also given Y/N a couple of interests to add a bit more to the story to help it progress

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

You’d been doing your best to dodge Bucky as soon as you felt your body's usual symptoms start to develop. It started as it always did with feeling bloated before the short temperedness set in. Bucky was sweet and kind and he didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of your temper so you opted out of your usual Friday night pizza with him, giving the excuse of being called into work which he accepted with disappointment.

Saturday morning came and as usual, painkillers did nothing to soothe the ache in your lower gut. Traipsing into your kitchen, you filled the kettle up with water before putting it on the hob and started to root around for your hot water bottle whilst you waited for the water to boil.

A knock on your door interrupted your hunt and rather reluctantly, you made your way over to the door, unbothered by your sleepwear attire.

Swinging the door open, you instantly regretted not ignoring it.

“Hey doll”

It was upsetting seeing Bucky look so good on a morning when you felt so rotten. Even worse, you were fully aware of how you currently looked - unbrushed hair, no make up and Bucky’s t-shirt which only just covered the tops of your thighs. Self consciously, you eased the door closed a little bit and shielded your body from view.

“Hi Bucky, what’s up?” You asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Can I come in?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he tried to catch more of a glimpse of you.

“Now’s not a great time…” You grumbled, feeling guilty as you saw the smile drop from his face.

“Are you avoiding me?” The words rushed out of his mouth before he had time to stop them.

Taken aback by his forwardness, you paused for a moment, your jaw opening and closing as you didn’t quite know how to respond. “I’m sorry, you don’t owe me an explanation. It’s just I heard you in your apartment last night crying but you said you were at work and I was worried-”

He started to ramble as he panicked he’d overstepped the mark so you swiftly cut him off. “Don’t be, you’re right, I have been avoiding you.”

“....oh” Bucky's eyes shot down to the floor as he nodded his head. Your admission cut deep and every insecurity Bucky felt rushed to the surface as he processed your words. “I thought-” he started but not quite knowing how to finish his sentence.

You cursed your inability to think before speaking as you reached out towards him, no longer caring about your appearance as you took his metal hand in yours. “It’s nothing you did, I’m just not myself at the moment, I’m not exactly great to be around when it's my time” You emphasised the last bit, hoping he’d get the hint without having to spell it out.

You were wrong.

Bucky lifted his head and looked back at you, confusion etched across his handsome features. “You’ve lost me”

“Remember how you got that scar on the back of your head?”

“Yeah my sister threw a book at me”

“Uhuh, and do you remember why she did that?”

“I ate the biscuits she saved for when she- oh!” It suddenly hit Bucky as to what you’d been hinting at and suddenly he felt like the world’s biggest idiot.

“Safe to say me and your sister have the monthly mood swings in common” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well...um… if you need me, you know where I am”

“Thanks Buck” You smiled up at him and tried not to swoon on the spot as he leant towards you, his lips pressing against your forehead, gently kissing you as he cradled the back of your head with his hand.

His thumb stroked the back of your neck as his lips left your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you, I thought I was saving you”

“Trust me, I’ve survived worse” He joked, tucking one of your many stray hairs behind your ear. It suddenly dawned on you what your current state of attire was and you hastily tried to flatten your hair and pull the t-shirt down to cover more of your bare legs.

Bucky tried his best to avert his eyes from your state of undress, not having taking note of how you donned his t-shirt beforehand, too focused on your wellbeing but he found himself failing miserably. You were too cute with your bed head hair sticking up in random places and slightly dark eyes where you’d not completely removed yesterday's mascara. And then there was his t-shirt. Fuck - he’d nearly lost it when you’d warn it the night you’d gotten locked out of your apartment but thankfully your legs were covered. But now? It was driving him mad seeing inch upon inch of bare skin, his t-shirt barely covering your underwear. He wanted nothing more than to shove you against the wall and run his hands over your impossibly soft skin.

The sound of your kettle boiling over snapped him out of it and he watched as you darted over to the kitchen, leaving him standing in the doorway, facing away from you as he was positive he’d be able to see your ass as you walked.

“I’ll come back doll”

Before you had a chance to respond, he’d already closed your door behind him.

Hastily, you made up your hot water bottle and quickly jumped into the shower, unsure as to when he would return.

Half an hour later, Bucky was back at your door, grocery bag in hand. “I’ve brought you a few things for... y’know.”

Opening your door wide for him, you chuckled at his awkwardness and gestured for him to come in. “You really didn’t need to-are those Peanut Buttercups?!” Rushing towards him you grabbed the bag out of his hands and began rummaging through his purchases.

Laughing at your response he left you to it as he hung up his jacket next to yours as he usually did and took up his spot on your couch.

“I remember what Rebecca was like and figured you might appreciate a bit of sugar.”

You could only moan in response as you devoured your chocolate treat. Grabbing your hot water bottle from the side table, you made your way over to the couch and sank into the seat next to Bucky, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Any plans for today?” You asked, holding up the last bite of your candy bar.

“Nope” Leaning forward, he took the chocolate from you using his teeth as he finished it off.

“Then you’re in for a treat” You sunk deeper into the sofa as he lifted his arm up, resting it along the top of the couch cushion, letting you lean further into him. Bucky also took the opportunity to pull the blanket from the couch down onto you, tucking you into his side.

To say Bucky was excited when you told him there were sequels to The Hobbit would be an understatement. For him to then find out they were turned into movies was almost too much.

He was in heaven. He was watching Middle Earth come to life, just how he imagined it would be whilst cuddled up against his favourite girl.

He wished it could be like this all the time, when he was with you the memories of who he was before subsided, along with all the guilt and shame. Even when he was in Wakanda, he hadn’t dared to dream of having any sort of normal life, he’d accepted it just wasn’t on the cards for him. That he’d always be alone.

When Steve left, that only solidified his belief that he was destined to be alone. Part of him was okay with that, this way he wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again. But the other part of him, the part that even Hydra couldn’t wipe out, longed for a companion, whether it be platonic or romantic.

Finding you was a miracle. You were so carefree, so honest, open and kind. You put up with his old fashioned ways, you didn’t make fun of his odd quirks or question why sometimes he needed to just be on his own. You both also had a lot in common, you both enjoyed modern technology and sciences and often found yourselves watching documentaries and educational pieces on TV together. Bucky was also delighted to learn you were obsessed with motorcycles and was planning a road trip for you both for when you next had some time off work - a surprise he was having a hard time hiding from you.

Half way through the first film he felt you nodding off, having come down from the sudden sugar intake. Pulling you tighter against him, he kissed your head and lowered the volume on the TV, not wanting to wake you.

As the second film started, you stirred awake, the cramps returning with a vengeance. As you opened your eyes you realised you’d snuggled into Bucky, nuzzling into his chest, leaving a small amount of drool on his black t-shirt. Jolting backwards, you hastily wiped your mouth and tore yourself from his arms in embarrassment.

Bucky’s eyes hadn’t strayed from the TV as he remained completely emerged in Middle Earth.

“Sorry I didn’t realise-”

He quickly shushed you as he continued watching the film. However he did miss your warmth and spread his arms wide, inviting you back into your previous position. “C’mere”

Trying not to read too much into it, you smiled and sank back into his arms, sighing as they wrapped around you, his right hand resting over your stomach, soothing your cramps.

It was well into the night when you finished your movie marathon, both of you enjoying every minute. You knew friends didn’t cuddle - not like this. They didn’t make your heart race like Bucky did. They didn’t make butterflies erupt in your stomach every time they so much as looked at you.

You were in trouble.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #romance #fluff #slow burn #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #tfaws spoilers #tfawts #tfatws

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17wishbones · 3 years

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Here is the FINAL part (3) of Chapter VII: War’s End! So glad that you made it all to the end. A rather bittersweet sort of sensation but, it was fun writing this to the very end. I so wanted a happy ending, but I still sort of followed Rengoku’s path and cried my eyes out again but it was worth it. Again, this one I know I could write better so I’m going to work on it. Thank you all for reading through this and sticking with me. This was just so fun to do!

- - - - - - - -

Chapter VII: War’s End

“Everyone ready to go?” Tanjiro asked his ‘lively’ crew.

Zenitsu was sitting with Nezuko who was comfortably set in her box. “Yep, yep! Me and Nezuko-chan are as ready as we’ll ever be.”

“Finally! I can get out and stretch my legs!” Inosuke shouted with glee as he grabbed his two blades.

“Hope you have room for one more.”

“Oh, sure, we do-- _____, is that. . . is that really you?”

“In the flesh.” You stepped through the doorway in just the uniform. Over the weeks, you garnered a leveled bob cut of your locs, an eyepatch over your left eye, and scars littering your arms and around your face. “I’ve missed you all so much.”

“COOOOOOK!!!” Inosuke bum-rushed you into a hug, sniffling loudly beneath his boar’s head. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?”

Zenitsu joined him, well, more like pushed him out of the way as he hugged you next. “____, WE WERE WORRIED SICK ABOUT YOU!! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE A GONER!!”

“I’m so sorry for up and leaving just like that. There was a lot to process after the Mugen Train incident, and I didn’t want to muddle your healthy minds with my emotions. I wanted to be mentally strong for you guys.”

‘Her scent is still sad. Of course, she has a reason to be. She lost Rengoku-san, and has had to cope with that loss on her own. I know how tough that can be, but I have Nezuko with me still. She doesn’t have any kin or home to return to. Demon slaying is all she has. . . and us.’ Tanjiro’s eyes lit up. “That’s right! You have us.”

“Hmm? What was that, Tanjiro?” You asked.

“We’re a family, isn’t that right, _____?”

His words surprised you, and it made your heart jump with joy. You looked at all four of them as a part of your family. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them. “You’re absolutely right. That’s why I want to come with you. Besides, as a Hashira, it is but my civic duty to protect Kyōjurō’s juniors.” Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you spoke fondly of him. “He was so ecstatic to have more apprentices under his belt. Therefore, I must follow in his footsteps and watch over you.”

“YEEEESS!! Having Cook with us will make traveling even better.”

Zenitsu frowned at him. ‘As if traveling with you has been anything pleasant.’

“Now, before we go. I want to see Senjuro. Did you relay the message to him already, Tanjiro?”

“Mhm. As soon as we got back, and when I was able to move. Do you want us to come with you? We’re heading through that direction anyway.”

“Perfect! Let’s be off then.”

You all travelled down to the Rengoku Estate, seeing Senjuro sweeping out of his home. He was caught off guard when you embraced him.

For a moment, there was silence as he held you back tightly, his eyes swelling with tears. Seeing him reminded you of all the times you spent together. The three of you were a team when you and Rengoku were training for the Final Selection. Senjuro, sweet and kind, had a quiet fire burning in him. He was going to be something amazing, just like his brother.

“Senjuro, how have you been? Are you alright?” You inspected him from his ember-tipped hair down to his sandals.

“I’m better now, after seeing you. You left in such a hurry, I was worried that you weren’t going to come back.”

“You’re stronger than I, Senjuro, and I wanted to be that for you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, _____. Are you leaving with Tanjiro and the others now?”

“Yes. I want to follow in your brother’s footsteps and protect those that I love and those that can’t protect themselves.” You knelt down, looking into his big, soft eyes. “I really wanted us to be together.” You said this, not knowing when death would knock at your doorstep. “I love you, Senjuro. I know you’ll be a great man in the future.”

“Mmm, I think I will be, too.” He hugged you one more time. “I love you, too, _____!”

You returned the favor before you both let go. You reached for your belt, pulling out a small box of goodies. “For you. Hope you like them. Take care, Senjuro.”

Your days, though filled with amazing memories, came to a close as you fell protecting the children. More than anything, you wanted them to succeed. Sacrificing yourself was the only way to win. It was a swift pain, a slow burn, and then darkness bled into your vision as your soul lifted towards the light and your warm, wavering aura vanished from your body.

You were sorry that you couldn’t stay as you walked halfway across the red bridge, spotting flame-tipped hair just over yonder. He peered over his shoulder, a proud smile spread on his handsome features as he held his hand out to you.

Over the red bridge did you both cross, fading into the distance.

( B O N U S - E N D I N G)

Summer had come and college was out! Most couldn’t wait to spend it goofing off on a beach, traveling across the States, or going right back into school a couple weeks later for summer courses. Many people had many things to look forward to, but you? You had woken up at the ass crack of dawn, taking in the morning air as you raced down the steps with your suitcase fully packed.

“Mom! Dad! Come on! We have to get the airport now! I can’t be late.” Your parents were so slow sometimes and that made you anxious. You could leave them here and catch a ride there or make it on your own but they were not having any of that.

“We’re coming, _____, we’re coming!” Your dad said with a mouthful of foaming toothpaste.

“You usually don’t wake up this early with this much energy.” Your mom added.

“It’s not everyday you get to study abroad in the land of the Rising Sun! I have a day’s worth of traveling to do so I can always sleep later.” Yeah, you didn’t get any kind of sleep last night as you’d be spending most of it in the air.

You hurried them up and sped to the busy airport to meet with the group of classmates you were leaving with. You said your goodbyes to your parents, boarded the plane, and wished for a safe trip.

As soon as service was offered, you grabbed a couple drinks, ate whatever they served in the trays, and knocked out until landing - save for the few bathroom trips -.

Your horizon suddenly expanded the moment you walked out of Japan’s airport, looking around you in amazement. You had to keep murmuring to yourself, “Do not weeb out. I repeat, do not weeb out.” You loved anime, you loved Japanese culture, and you loved their idea of cuisine. Japan felt like the place for you.

“Okay everyone, please come together,” spoke your sweet, endearing Japanese princess of a teacher, Mayamoto-sensei. “We’ll be heading two hours out by bus to Kimetsu Daigaku (Kimetsu University). Rest up and be ready for a little surprise set up by a few students who were interested in meeting you guys soon after arrival.”

You internally squealed with glee. You weren’t dressed up for the occasion but who was going to tell you that you couldn’t wear a pair of sweats on the ride there. With your short locs retwisted and your good outfits packed, you were set to go!

So set that you were the first off the bus and getting your things out. “This is going to be a great experience, I know it!”

“Nn! I agree!”

“Oh my god!” You jumped, scared by the booming voice beside you. “Oh… oh my god.” You had laid eyes on one of the most unique men you had ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. He was different, what with his flame highlighted tips, dazzling eyes, and charming smile.

“Yes. . .?” He slowly stood, his eyes never leaving yours once locked. This man, a vocal and expressive man, was left speechless. He ogled you for much longer than he’s ever done, going over your brown skin, your brown eyes, your short locs, everything! He immediately bowed before you, introducing himself. “Konnichiwa! Rengoku Kyōjurō to moushimasu! Yoroshiku onegai-shimasu!” (Formal: (Hello!) I’m called Rengoku Kyōjurō! Nice to meet you!)

Your eyes bugged out of your face. ‘Shit! Wasn’t he speaking English a minute ago? Okay, okay, what did he say?’ You looked back to see your sensei and the students watching the two of you interact. This was not how you kept yourself out of weeb trouble. Hell, you were still trying to figure out what his fine ass said so fast.

“Onamae wa, nan desu ka?” (Polite: What’s your name?)

You sighed, being able to understand that. “Watashi no namae wa… _____ _____ desu. Doozo yoroshiku.” (Casual: My name is _____. Nice to meet you.)

‘_____?’ He eyed you for a second longer before he placed his hands on his hips, smiling wide from ear to ear. “Very good, _____! I’m Rengoku Kyōjurō, and I am with a few classmates to meet you all. Welcome to Kimetsu University!”

“Woooow, his English is so good.” You thought. Aloud.

“Thank you! I have been learning since elementary! Your pronunciation is good, but your flow is slow. However, I am sure you will improve after being here for a month!”

‘Oh, thanks for putting me out there!’ You smiled nervously. This handsome, wild man was nothing like you had expected. “That’s what I’m hoping for as I’d like to work, live, and travel here in the future.”

“Is that so?” He faced you with his arms crossed over his chest. “Be my student!” Your mouth, along with the others, dropped at his proposal. You looked to your sensei for help, and she encouraged it with an approving nod and smile. “Great, then it’s settled! You’ll be fluent in Japanese in no time!” He looked off to the distance, laughing loud as you smiled in confusion.

(Modern AU Sequel coming SOON!) - - - - - - - - - Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

#rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #rengoku x you #rengoku kyōjurō #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

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it wasn’t power i coveted; it was acceptance.

Titans 3.06

y’know, i was just thinking the other day that 1.06/1.07 and 2.06/2.07 were the best episodes of their respective seasons, so i have great hopes going in to this one. fingers crossed!

as always, typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. oh! um... that was a Cold Open, all right. *nudges* get it? cold? because it’s snowing? and two people got murdered in cold blood? eh?

... oh, i’ve just started.

1.5. i wonder if “i want to be sipping pina coladas on a beach with you” is the new “i’m just one day away from retiring.” i was so on edge after that--i kept expecting that car to explode. even so, the way they died wasn’t an anticlimax: brutal, and quick.

1.75. so i’m assuming that’s the titular lady vic! this show better bring up why this doll was important or why these two cops needed to be killed, and not leave it to the ether like jericho’s little mindscape jaunt in 2.08 (i’m still dying to know what that was about???)

i love how deliberately unappealing wayne manor is.

(sorry for the pic quality. i don’t have hbo max! ssshhh.)

2.3. i love the many references to “home” and “our house” when they’ve been here for less than a week and saw one of their friends get blown into pieces. i mean, i unironically love it: home is where family is, after all!

2.5. i’d like to say that kom is playing some sort of long game here, especially given the build-up we had last season and some of the more niggling details this season: why did kom choose now to use her bond to lure kory when she’s been on earth for months? why did justin call kory now, just around the time that she started getting kom’s visions? and what about kom’s ability to exactly imitate other people? hmmm.

2.75. the reason i wrote i’d like to say is that i’ve made the mistake of assuming plot complexity where there is none; i was so invested in the jason todd orchestrated his own death theory for instance, when it turns out that oops! ra’s al ghul just happened to leave a little lazarus puddle in gotham, and oh yeah! scarecrow just happens to have a network of henchmen working for him on the outside and a fully functional laboratory and a weapons cache fit for a new supervillain in the basement of the high security psychiatric unit/prison that he’s in!

(no i’m not bitter, why do you ask)

2.8. iiiii don’t know what to say about the implications of sex slavery being a thing on tamaran, so i’m not going to say anything at all. for now.

3. gotham, six years ago... wasn’t it five years before s2 that jericho died and the titans disbanded? and when was the flashback from 1.06 where dick let zucco die? i think it was after the events of 2.08: jericho? i can’t seem to find any transcripts or reliable information online, so i’m going to have to rewatch 1.06 at some point.

(i love the old-fashioned batman music in this heist scene)

3.5. “security is a joke... it’s my way of keeping my dad on his toes”. what you’re an ethical thief now, like an ethical hacker? i don’t think that excuse is going to sell, barbara, on the day you do encounter a decent security system and your father is forced to arrest you.

(then again, gotham’s security is piss-poor. did you know that you could just walk into arkham asylum without any official clearance, ply one of its most dangerous inhabitants with contraband, and said inmate could get away with having an entire laboratory and weapons cache--NO I’M NOT GOING TO LET THIS GO)

3.8 so that flashback between dick and barbara was really cute! and also illuminating:

a) dick sounds so light, so... um. look. i have some apologies to tender to mr thwaites, because while i’ve always thought he does a fine job as dick grayson, i’ve never been terribly fond of his cadence as he delivers dialogue. it’s often monotonous, i thought, but then again, he’s usually delivering exposition or dealing with one soul-crushing crisis or the other. so i was pleasantly surprised to hear dick sound so carefree and alive in his conversation with barbara, laughing frequently, his emotions so bare and bubbling to the surface. it’s really a fantastic contrast to the traumatised and world-weary dick grayson that we see now, even more so than the costume department just bunging a backwards-baseball cap on mr thwaites’ head and hoping that will convince us of his relative youth.

b) and god, when he wakes up from that memory, all alone in his bed, bleeding from bullet holes in his shoulder (bullet holes that are--in a somewhat convoluted way--barbara’s fault)? yikes. it’s great. you have my apologies, mr thwaites!

c) can you imagine dick just... crawling back to wayne manor, trying not to be seen by anybody, shedding his suit and just... collapsing onto his bed without even tending to his wound? the sheer emotional and physical exhaustion of it?

d) it’s so interesting to see how barbara and dick approach the idea of legacy--a big theme on the show!--in this flashback. barbara is the one bucking the idea that she should follow in her father’s footsteps, while dick seems pretty content with the batman-and-robin setup, and even tries to get barbara to join their team (robin-girl. pfffft). obviously after this several traumatic things happen wherein dick ends up questioning and then resenting his role as robin, his relationship with batman or even returning as a vigilante at all. and barbara... ends up replacing her father as commissioner. it’s tragic, really.

e) the dynamic between dick and barbara in the flashback reminds me of how it was between dick and donna in 1.08 and even between kory and dick in early s1. it’s like having an older, strong-willed woman by his side means he gives over the steering wheel for a while and lets himself... unspool, a little bit. it’s kinda endearing.

also:

*pinches his cheeks*

3. you know, we talk about dick and Eldest Daughter Syndrome, and that’s definitely valid, but here gar seems to me the embodiment of it, with all the emotional gardening and firefighting that he’s expected to do. he’s kind of the guy expected to keep his shit together and take care of everyone else while they are falling completely to pieces, unable to carve out time to process his own trauma. he’s also picked up dick’s and kory’s tendencies to bottle up their struggles and shun appearing vulnerable, and he’s struggling in the shadow of both dick and kory undergoing acute crises, his best friend (and frequent confidante) on the other side of the world, and seeing hank die, utterly helpless to stop it.

i’m glad that he got a chance to tell dick even a smidgeon of what he really feels, and i hope this is at least a semblance of a wake up call for dick to actually sit down and work with the people he repeatedly calls family.

3.5. it’s heartening to see that dick immediately makes it his priority to go talk to gar. but don’t blow off kory in the process, man!

4. i’m really loving this dynamic between kom and conner--i get the idea that both of them consider each other as Unknowns, alien two times over. but conner’s only ever known the titans, who embrace being different, and kom’s only ever known... well.

anyway, kory is Really Stressed, and honestly? #relatable.

when you’re forced to bring an estranged family member to hang out with your friends...

4.5. i love that the titans are spending so much time in the kitchen. a real family!

5. jonathan crane is a creep and i absolutely cannot stand him.

5.25. how did he get a whole lab setup (in the basement of a hospital...?) with a bunch of whitecoats to work for him? how did he just waltz into the viewing room of an operation theatre when he’s one of the most wanted men in gotham right now? why is jason wandering around maskless when--presumably--as the adopted son of the most famous person in gotham he’d be a tad more recognisable than your average joe?

why do i expect this show to answer anything anymore?

5.5. that’s not necessarily a criticism, mind; i’ve said since season 1 that titans is very comics-like in this aspect, all about the Aesthetic and the splash-page splendour rather than the niggling unimportant details of how or when the characters got to said location. like. the camera gliding over the operation being set-up, lady vic bursting in and doing her murder dance (imagine the luck of the poor intern who chose this day and this surgery to assist) and jason, shocked and slack-jawed, framed by blood.

5.75. it’s a sobering reminder for jason that, though he chose this path in order to gain control over a world that seemed like it was rapidly spinning out of his grip, he’s only succeeded in handing over even more control to a man with an agenda that is very clearly not aligned with his own. he’s in too far to stop now, though.

5.9. i have a lot more thoughts about jason! saving it up for the end of this recap, though.

6. more kitchen time! i better see dick do some cooking soon...

(”our kitchen”! it still delights me! kitchens are So Important)

6.25. so much of dick’s issues have revolved around his relationship with bruce, so it’s completely understandable that in the wake of a huge crisis where bruce literally asks dick to replace him and be a “better” him, dick would default to all the worst things he learned from the man. and i’m glad kory’s having none of it, but come on, guys. the woman’s literally fetched her fratricidal sister out of a hole in the ground with no idea what said sister is going to do next and experiencing a burgeoning sense of guilt far, far beyond her history with the titans, and dick’s too far into his autocolonoscopy that he can’t see that she needs help.

6.5. “he services your urges”--well, as far as we know, kory is the last person he had sex with...

7. “i hope [gar] isn’t angry with me...” SIR! i thought you’d already spoken to him! smh, as the kids say. kory wouldn’t be needing to reassure you if you just took the effort to build two way emotional relationships with the rest of the team. @superohclair was taking about dick’s relatively low emotional intelligence? i agree.

7.5. “i got my own problems [...] you and barbara? fix it.” YOU TELL HIM, KORY

8. man i really like this weird, sad tension between dick and barbara--this sense that both of them are approaching the other based on how they remember them and are ultimately disappointed by the truth. barbara thought she could trust dick to... well, be a better batman, but dick has not only failed at that in her eyes, but repeatedly undermined her while exploiting the authority that she gave him. in dick’s eyes, this is nothing like the barbara that he knew, rebellious and ready to do whatever it takes to find something.

like. this show sometimes really hits me in the chest about the ways it shows kids grow into adults and into caretakers, and the way it’s stop-start, the ways nothing can happen at all for a long time and then it’s Crisis Central all at once and there’s no space to breathe. the weird sort of sadness that comes with nostalgia.

8.5. oracle name drop! i agree with barbara, any system that can just randomly tap into gotham phonelines is a monster.

8.7. (i don’t know if it’s my imagination, but is dick holding himself... differently in this episode? like that wound is definitely bothering him, and he’s running on fumes)

9. man, that was a really sweet scene between kom and conner. “feeling alien in your own world”... “not quite here nor there”

honestly this team runs on conner and gar’s faith in their value as a family, and it’s a sign of conner’s generous heart that he extends that opportunity to blackfire. this arc of maturation for him, where he’s now able to consciously choose which parts of himself he can use to do the thing he wants to so--save people--has been so fulfilling to recognise. this baby’s grown with the titans! and what he’s learnt is that people can get fucked up, but the titans is a place where they can be fucked up, and grow.

MY MAN CONNER

10. oh man i’m drinking in the gar-dick interaction in this episode like i’m three days into the desert and it’s the only source of water for miles around!

a) gar is absolutely not dealing with dick’s bullshit this episode and I LOVE IT. it’s such a far cry from the man who was idolising dick/robin back in s1 and expecting him to solve all their problems. dick is fallible, dick is fucked up, but he Tries His Best and that’s ok.

b) dick, huffing and puffing through that vent, unable to put any pressure on his left shoulder, trying to have a heart to heart with gar... fuck i love this asshole.

c) bruce took in a kid who was suffering... “and made him into a weapon”. well. i absolutely agree with dick that it was bruce who put these kids into these horrible situations with him and they came away with a bucketload of trauma to add to the one that they already had. but we know that bruce was really trying with jason, and at the end of s2, dick was coming to acknowledge that bruce had offered him something that wasn’t just darkness. jason’s death and bruce’s reaction to that shattered that fragile progress.

d) “gotham got to me too.” i feel more sympathetic towards dick running off on his own than most, and it’s not just because i’m an unapologetic stan. we’ve seen before that dick... devolves when overwhelmed, and he lashes out and makes ill thought out decisions and just Does Not Deal. it happened after hearing the news that deathstroke had returned in s2, and it didn’t help that everyone around him was reeling at the news, either. this time, however, he has his salvation in his family, and despite some stupid decisions like running off and kidnapping supervillains without telling his team, he’s been really on the ball this season. thinking clearly and logically, holding it together and working on a plan, thinking two steps ahead of the villains... yes.

e) gar needing to believe that jason isn’t beyond redemption... there’s a lot of blood on his hands, too, from when he was manipulated by cadmus last season. it makes sense why he’d relate to jason’s predicament, and i hope dick picked up on that.

f) my head just added a plaintive ow after dick jumped feet first into the storage room

i need, crave gifs of this scene!

11. *sits on hands* i’m going to talk more about red hood, i promise!

12. more gar and dick! is it my birthday??!!

(actually, according to the tamil calendar, it is my birthday! my “star” birthday)

12.5. excellent. dick using some implausible training that bruce taught him to solve a mystery? passing some of that knowledge onto gar? that proud smile when he sees gar perfectly execute moves that he taught him? MY HEART IS EXPLODING

13. aw, i love flashback!dick and barbara, they’re so cute <3

13.25. why does it not surprise me that the way he proposes a relationship to barbara is by saying “we make sense”? this guy can deduce exactly who was present where and what weapon they were holding from a garbled audio recording but other times he’s utterly clueless, and that’s a consistent character beat right from s1

13.5. so.... that’s why lady vic has it out for... barbara....? i don’t get it. it’s flimsy. but hey! the fun thing about titans is that i don’t have to get it. the payoff has nothing to do with the plot.

14. i can’t believe that barbara fell for that, but at least that wheelchair fight looked awesome, so.

15. oh yeah, i forgot that red hood bullied the mob into helping him and scarecrow... at least that explains the whitecoats and the elaborate set-up.

15.5. honestly i love how this dynamic between kory and kom is developing, though i wish more of the team would pay attention to it. time to call justin, i think!

16. i wonder what happened after that second flashback where barbara got hurt during that heist. did she give up on doing any more (maybe jim caught her)? was it because dick was called away by bruce and then the titans and got caught up in his own issues? maybe barbara froze him out because she wasn’t looking for the relationship that he was looking for? maybe the idea of doing that with someone turning into batman-lite was just... unappealing? scary?

whatever it is, it doesn’t look like dick ever processed the end of that relationship. it’s very intriguing to see where their dynamic goes next.

17. so.... what, did vic deliver some fear toxin to barbara? i... what?

17.5. and i TOLD YOU that they would never explain that doll or why vic attacked those two cops at the beginning! oh, titans. never change.

18. did jason just randomly have tim’s restaurant burgled? god, i’m feeling a bit nauseous... are they going to kill tim’s father?

18.25. i feel like the rest of the season is going to wrestle with jason’s culpability in the horrible stuff he’s doing and i’m already seeing that prospect divide fans. on one hand, his story is taking a lot of oxygen away from other equally interesting story arcs, and he’s done some truly awful things, like indiscriminate murder, threatening to kill children, blowing up hank, and potentially killing tim’s parents.

there’s something to be said for the kind of hold that crane has over him, and the so-called ‘anti-fear’ drug that he keeps plying jason with--he’s alone, drugged almost constantly (to the level of dependence), fresh from the trauma of being bludgeoned to death. he hasn’t conquered fear; he’s ruled by it. on the other hand, given that he’s the one character on the show given an obvious and identifiable ‘mental illness’ arc (maaaaybe dick too), one can argue that it’s irresponsible to show this progress into such violence: jason was vulnerable because he was struggling, and that left him vulnerable, but it took only a push before he became a fucking serial killer.

but that could mean we underestimate the degree of that vulnerability, and the mechanics of this universe where he fell into the clutches of the one supervillain perfectly designed to exploit that vulnerability. that helpless spiral into further and further self-destruction is all too real. it’s valuable to know that someone who has sunk that low can still seek help--actual help--and get it.

18.5. i don’t know. it’s not a question i’m going to resolve at the end of an overlong recap at 1 in the morning. i don’t believe it’s even a question that titans can resolve. but i am interested in where they’re going next with jason.

19. this episode was genuinely great! i’m pumped for the rest of the season!

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #dick grayson #koriand'r #barbara gordon #garfield logan #conner kent #komand'r #jason todd #jonathan crane #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle #manic pixie pop tart #a tragic jalebi #this is a 3k+ MONSTER yikes

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maplecornia · 3 years

Text

chapter 26

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1.85K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: i don't think i'll ever get over how hot Namjoon is ;-;

You groan as you lean against the pillar near the entrance to the BigHit building.

Last night, when Taehyung walked you back to your apartment, you didn't sleep very well. Turning to glare at your rather disheveled reflection in the mirror, you let out another groan.

Why did he have to show up? You were perfectly fine, things were perfectly normal, and then he had to screw up your heart all over again. Letting out a small scream, you throw a 3-second fit before leaning your back against the clear glass wall.

Sooner or later, you're going to have to go in.

Why can't it be later?

Letting out a guttural growl, you pull yourself off of the glass and head inside the building, stomping like a little two-year-old. You really don't want to see him today, you're afraid of what will happen if you do.

You don't want to fall.

Please God, don't let me fall.

Entering the building, you feel a bit more comfortable, not so out of place. Now, you have a purpose, a plan; a reason for being here. Smiling softly to yourself, you walk forward, this time nothing in your way. As you reach the receptionist's desk, you smile as you recognize Jojo behind it.

Playing coy, you knock twice on the desk before glancing away and holding your head in your hands. She glances up, ready to greet the newcomer but as soon as she sees your face, she breaks into a grin.

"Ah~ it's the snoozer, early today I see." You frown at the nickname but when she smirks your way, you can't help but grin like a giddy child. It feels good to have friends or at least the beginning relationships of one.

"I told you, the time was wrong." You pout, flopping on the desk and she laughs before preparing the schedule you need for Namjoon today.

"Mmhmm, and what happened yesterday? Was Mr. Kim too tired of waiting and told you to stay at home?" The mention of yesterday causes your grin to fade a little. With it comes the memory of Taehyung, and he starts to reenter your mind. Pulling yourself off the desk, you smile weakly, shaking your head.

"No, I had an injury, Namjoon wouldn't let me come in." She blinks a bit in surprise at the informal way you address him.

"'Namjoon?' Huh, I didn't think the two of you were that close. You only met once after all." She mumbles before typing something into her computer. Realizing your mistake you let out a small gasp.

"Oh, I'm sorry. He told me to call him without honorifics, I suppose it slipped my mind." You look away from her, a bit embarrassed, but as soon as she presses the print button, she chuckles.

"Don't worry, Yen. I was just joking." When you don't look at her, she sighs a bit before lightly knocking on your head. Surprised, you rub your forehead and pout as you meet her gaze once more. Smiling, she pays no mind, presenting you with an ID badge. Your eyes widen as you see it, and you take it from her waiting fingertips.

"Is this mine? I didn't think they'd process it so fast."

"Of course it's yours, whose else would it be?" Jojo chuckles, leaning over the counter and pointing to your name. "See? Lin Yen."

You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress your grin. Somehow, this makes things all the more real, you can't help your delight at the sight. Jojo catches sight of the cute expression and can't help but laugh as she pulls away.

"Now hurry up, the schedule is all ready for the day. Don't forget to check in with the head manager, you remember his name right?" She reminds you, making you pause for a moment before you run off.

"Of course, it's Kim Sejin. Everyone knows that." She smiles at the coy response and waves you away.

"Okay, hurry up and go then. I'm sure Mr. Kim is waiting for you." You bow to her before taking off, a small bounce to your footsteps.

Walking through the halls without Namjoon is a bit scary, but exciting at the same time. You can't help but love the butterflies coursing through your stomach, and is it weird that you kind of want to barf and dance at the same time? Everything is so exciting and new, it's as though the world has been painted a different color.

You try your hardest to forget everything, just live in the moment as of right now. No more worries about the past. About your friends. About your mom. About Taehyung. Right now, you need to focus on yourself.

And this job seems like the perfect escape for that.

Humming slightly to yourself you do a little twirl in the hallway before turning the corner...

...and bumping right into Kim Namjoon.

You let out a small shriek, stumbling back, your body shrinking into a small protective ball like it normally does. It's a little defense mechanism you've acquired over the years. Your eyes closing themselves tightly, you don't realize who you've bumped into until he takes you by the shoulders and catches you mid-air.

Blinking as he rights you, you look up and find yourself face to face with your boss.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice coated with worry, and you chuckle a bit nodding sheepishly.

"Yes, I'm sorry I should've been paying attention to where I was going." You reply, stepping back from him. Though he sighs in relief as he releases you, you find that there’s a heavy cloud hanging over his head. He’s not fully there with you, lost in some unforgotten thought. Furrowing your brow in confusion, you wonder what happened to make him look that way. You open your mouth to ask him about it, but he's already speaking, and your words fall on deaf ears.

"It's a good thing that I bumped into you." You tilt your head in expectation, curious to what he's about to say next. "I needed to talk to you."

"But your schedule isn't ready yet--"

"That can wait."

You open your mouth to protest, but he's already taken you by the hand and is dragging you down the hallways.

Even though you cry out incomprehensible questions and sounds of alarm behind him, he can't seem to hear you. He doesn't want to hear you. His mind is too cluttered with the events of yesterday.

The outlandish plan that BangPD has in store for you.

"Why her?" He asks, his hands clenching tightly at his sides.

After the meeting, BangPD requested to meet privately with Namjoon, after all, he was the leader and one of the people that Sihyuk trusts the most. It didn't matter to RM anyway, he needed to talk to Sihyuk as well, and if it had to be on his terms then so be it.

Bang Sihyuk glances outside at the setting sun, casting shadows throughout his office. Serene and insoluble, shadows meant to conceal that which he would rather keep inside. He sighs before answering, his hands secured behind his back as he stands before the massive glass window.

"You know, BTS wouldn't have existed without you. If I had never come across you that day, if I had never been inspired to create a group that will strengthen and invigorate your music, we would have never gotten here." Namjoon glances at him in frustration. He hates when people beat around the bush, but his respect and humility won't allow him to speak out against his senior.

"It's the same with her."

Bang Sihyuk reaches out and taps on the window before letting out a soft chuckle.

"Did you know that glass is so easily broken? That is, when it's on its own. But when you fortify it, when you strengthen it with multiple pieces, then it becomes indestructible." Turning around to face Namjoon, he smiles.

"Almost Bulletproof."

Biting his bottom lip, Namjoon remains silent as he watches BangPD walk to his desk and sit down. He raises his brow when Namjoon remains standing, but when it's clear that he has no intention to make himself at home, he merely sighs.

"She auditioned before, you know. For the BE:LIFT project, for Source Music, she even auditioned for Plus Global." Namjoon balks at that. This is new information to him. He knew that it was her dream to be a singer, but never did he know that she wanted to be an idol. Especially since she's a foreigner, that would be near to impossible. "I didn't accept her."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to share her."

At the explanation, Namjoon turns away, running his hand across his face in frustration. This is much more complicated than he thought. Somehow, she's been connected to the company for the longest time. Not just through Jaejin, not through him himself, not even through Jungkook or Taehyung. Before any of them had a chance to see her potential, she's been on the mind of their former CEO since she auditioned 5 years ago. For a program, she would never be able to succeed in.

"I have been planning this for a while, Namjoon."

He's unwilling to accept it, he can't accept it.

"She's the missing piece."

At the thought, his hand clenches subconsciously around yours.

He can't stand the thought of you disappearing far from his reach.

And yet, almost against his will, he finds himself bringing you to the very fate that will keep you from him.

Perhaps forever.

He pauses when the door comes into his line of vision. Almost as though he were afraid of what lies behind that very same door. Mrs. Kwon looks up from her desk as the two of you enter the small lobby, and presses a button on her phone before muttering incomprehensible words to a person on the other line.

Out of breath, you place your hand on your chest before looking up at him. At the sight of his set jaw, and stony eyes, you can't help but feel a bit worried.

What exactly happened to make him look that way?

Once more, you open your mouth to speak to him, but Mrs. Kwon interrupts and you look at her in surprise, not noticing she was there.

"You may go in."

Confused, you turn to Namjoon, but all he does is give a nod to the secretary before stepping towards a massive oak door. Curious, you peer around him to glance at it, not quite aware of your surroundings. There's a small plaque on the door, one that reads the name of the person residing within in perfect neat letters.

방시혁

Bang Sihyuk.

Your heart stopping in your chest, you freeze halfway to the door, your hand slipping out of Namjoon's.

"Namjoon, why are we here?" you try to keep the fear, the anxiety, the worry out of your voice, but the efforts are futile. He swallows hard, steadying himself before turning to you, his warm eyes soft and apologetic.

"He wanted to meet you."

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: you can probably guess what will happen next, but nonetheless i'm exciiiited

chapter 27 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

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inkweaver22-blr · 3 years

Text

Welcome to chapter nine! This one was meant to just be another filler with one of my own AU’s, but Tang just had to be introspective and have a moment of character growth. Hope you enjoy!

EDIT: This chapter has been edited to include some new info dropped on the same day I originally posted this! More info in the End Notes!

AO3 Link

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Nine: Rocks and Roles

Tang knows how to act. That doesn't mean he likes to play every part.

----------

Tang liked to think of himself as a decent actor, at least back in the original timeline. He had been part of the theater class in high school and telling stories required a bit of a dramatic flair if you wanted to keep your audience entertained. Convincing Pigsy he was a popular food critic hadn’t been too hard back then.

The many cycles he had been through had certainly helped polish his skill into a genuine talent. That one time where he and everyone else had been professional actors playing the roles of themselves from the original timeline as part of a show had especially allowed him to hone himself to a greater degree than before.

Being stuck jumping through time had practically made it a necessity.

It wasn’t that Tang enjoyed what was essentially lying to his family. It was more for their protection. He had almost broken the “No Interference” rule a few times when he hadn’t properly reacted to events that, while shocking or upsetting to his family, were simply part of his routine by now. He couldn’t allow the repetitive nature of the cycles to make him slip up and potentially cause more harm by being confronted by his lack of surprise or fear.

So he acted. He gasped at all the right moments or screamed in fear when in danger. Every laugh, every sigh of exasperation, every freak out over something related to Wukong was perfectly performed so as to not to raise suspicion. So long as the proper reaction occurred in response to the correct effect, everything went smoothly.

It wasn’t too hard or taxing as he never needed to fake his enjoyment of being around his family. Luckily for him, he also didn’t have to act exactly as he had been in the original timeline, or he may have gone insane from the monotony of it.

The cycles where his background was entirely rewritten were blessings in disguise, really. They were new. Fresh experiences for Tang to have and not have to work as hard to realistically react to.

He treated them like a method acting exercise. The new memories as part of Tang’s new backstory was the motivation for the ‘character’ he was playing. He didn’t have to fully adhere to them, but they certainly helped him play the role provided to him for the cycle.

He still disliked playing the villain however.

It happened a few times before already. The most notable had been when Zhu Bajie was in the role of Sun Wukong as MK’s mentor.

Tang shuddered at the memory of that timeline.

Saying that version of him had been unhinged was severely downplaying the many atrocities he had performed on both himself and others. Committing suicide to erase his name from the books of the dead, killing demons to absorb their lifeforce, and cutting open his own chest to manually insert the gem holding that lifeforce into himself for power were simply the tamer actions he had committed.

He supposed that heartbreak, jealousy, and internalized insecurities could drive even the most benign people to madness so long as they properly justified their actions to themselves.

It had been the first time in quite a while that Tang seriously considered intentionally breaking the interference rule and just running off to live in solitude for the entire cycle. Getting “redeemed” had been one of the most difficult things he had tried to pull off.

Tang dodged a swipe from the Monkey King’s staff as he was brought back into the present.

He was the villain once again this cycle. Luckily though, he was much less of a threat to his family this time around.

He was replacing Red Son as the demon child of Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.

Tang, Son of the Earth.

He wasn’t the only one who was switched around. Pigsy, who went by Bajie, was a human who had become Wukong’s successor. MK was a boar demon who ran the noodle shop. Red Son was a scientist and engineer who frequented the restaurant.

It was almost an opposite reflection of the cycle he had just been musing about.

“You’ll have to do better than that, noodle boy,” Tang taunted as he swung his arms to pull chunks of stone from the ground, his hands and the Earth he controlled both glowing with a golden-yellow light.

He supposed that it made sense for him to have some sort of elemental power if he was this timeline’s Red Son. Earth fit as he had certainly mellowed out over the course of the cycles, becoming more focused and self assured. His original self would have most certainly been associated with air with how flighty he had been.

Tang made sure to keep his full concentration as he attacked Bajie. Earth may be the element of the sturdy, but it had the potential to be much more volatile than fire. It was easy to let loose and cause a catastrophic earthquake. It took precision to control smaller pieces of rock without causing too much collateral damage.

Bajie batted away the earthen projectiles with ease and rushed into an opening Tang had intentionally left. He had to do his best to not rely on the fighting skills he had from previous cycles and use only what his memories knew when playing a villain. Otherwise he’d easily beat the fledgling hero and that certainly would be treated as interfering.

Tang winced as the staff connected with his ribs and sent him flying. He coughed as he pulled himself up, holding his injured side as he glared at the now smirking Bajie.

“How’s that for better!”

“This isn’t over,” Tang cried out dramatically. He activated his powers, this time summoning a whirlwind of sand to teleport away.

Another scene as the villain successfully played out.

----------

Tang sat in his workshop, calculating the specific size of a rune circle he would need.

It seemed that similarly to how Red Son was a genius that incorporated magic into science, this version of Tang was one who incorporated science into magic. Not a big distinction, but important in how the process worked. It still took an impressive amount of knowledge on both subjects to work them together in the end.

Setting his pen down to take a break, Tang looked around as he stretched. He caught his reflection in a nearby piece of metal machinery he had been fiddling with and examined himself once again.

He didn’t look too different from his human self, his face remaining the same. His hair was now a dark brown with yellow highlights and his glasses were much smaller. The biggest difference were the bull horns sticking out of the side of his head.

He didn’t mind them too much, but having to give up any pull over shirt for button downs was a hassle.

Looking at his horns lead the demon scholar to think about his parents in this timeline.

Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.

Tang frowned as he recalled the less than comforting welcome he had received after returning from his defeat. The disapproving dismissal from his father and scathing taunts from his mother had been demoralizing. It would have hurt more if he hadn't had the years of time jumping behind him.

If this was how Red Son was commonly treated, it was no wonder he worked hard in everything he did just to gain a scrap of approval and praise.

And yet he knew they loved each other. The moments he noticed didn’t happen often, but he could tell that his parents held some affection for him, and he obviously cared for them. He just didn’t understand why they acted so cruelly to one another.

Was it a demon thing? Were they afraid that by showing their love they were showing weakness?

That was certainly possible, but Tang disagreed with the sentiment. He had been through enough cycles to see that love made one stronger. It wasn’t the weakness their enemies thought it was.

Tang was already planning on becoming redeemed in this cycle. It hurt to think his parents would disown him, but what if that didn’t have to happen?

He thought about that one specific cycle and how he had become so twisted. All of it could have been avoided had his past self simply let go of his long held beliefs and went with Bajie.

Now he just had to make two powerful demons do just that.

Tang was an amazing actor.

He also had many years of watching the people around him and knew most of them almost better than they knew themselves.

His current parents were no exception.

He could see the potential for a loving and healthy family, buried just beneath the surface.

It would take some work, but he was sure he could unearth it and polish that potential until it shined.

With renewed energy, Tang pulled out a blank scroll and began planning.

He had a family to save.

----------

Welcome to what I’m calling the Noodle Swap AU! It is named that way because the only change is that the pairs that make up the two most popular noodle ships (SpicyNoodles and FreeNoodles) swap places!

Shout out to @winterpower98 for their amazing Actor AU and Dad Swap AU mentioned in this chapter! Go check them out!

Yes, yes, I know I’ve basically made Tang here Terra from Teen Titans. Most people would give him Air as an element, but 1) we already have an Air user in Princess Iron Fan and 2) Tang has changed quite a bit since the start of this Time Hopping experience, as he states himself in the chapter.

I do genuinely believe there’s a loving family hidden somewhere underneath all the cruelty the DBK crew throw at each other. It’s already been hinted that Red Son will get a redemption arc in the show, but I want one for his parents too.

That’s all for now! See you in the next chapter!

:IMPORTANT EDIT!!!!:

There's been a few paragraphs changed and added to include the new canon lore for Tang in the Dad Swap AU! Go check out @kitkat1003's absolutely ASTOUNDING work, When the Tide Pulls Away and the Earth Sharpens to Steel! It is INCREDIBLE and if it was finished, you'd absolutely know there would be an entire chapter dedicated to it here.

#Ink Writes #Scattered Cicadas #Monkie Kid #Tang #Tang Monkie KId #Pigsy #Zhu Bajie #Red Son #MK #Demon Bull King #Princess Iron Fan #Sun Wukong #winterpower98 #kitkat1003 #When the Tide Pulls Away and the Earth Sharpens to Steel #Dad Swap AU #Actor AU #Noodle Swap AU #LEGO Monkie Kid

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gagmebucky · 4 years

Text

hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)

in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.)

do not repost.

—

Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers.

Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.

To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works.

But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.

With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session.

He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.

In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.

Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.

When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.

He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.”

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.”

Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”

(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)

The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!”

Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)

peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)

Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along.

Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer

Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.

“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”

The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”

Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”

“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”

The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”

The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.”

Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”

“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can’t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?”

Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage.

“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”

Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”

“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?”

To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?”

There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess—

In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you.

Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms.

Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender.

The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips.

Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.

The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure.

“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!”

A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.”

No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.”

“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”

Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back.

Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.

“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.”

There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins.

Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.”

“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel smut imagines #spiderman x reader smut #marvel smut #heh I am going to pass out #I..#goodnight im off me ass sjdjjsxj

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