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markberries · 2 years

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take my hand ﹒ ml

synopsis﹕ when you and mark parted ways, you took forever to heal from it. when you see mark onstage again, you're not sure if you ever recovered in the first place.

genre + ﹕ huge amount of angst, fluff at the end (i promise), fem reader, exes to lovers, non idol!reader, idol!mark, best friends johnny + jaehyun

wc ﹕ 6.7k

warnings ﹕ cursing

you always believed in true love.

as cheesy and immature as it sounds, ever since you were in high school, you had felt like you would eventually meet ‘the one’. your mind was set on the idea that through thick and thin, your soulmate would never leave you.

well, you believed that up until you broke up with mark lee.

it all happened seven months ago, when a perfect relationship was ripped to shreds. you had been dating for just over a year when it occurred, and you truly believed that you were meant to be together. the twenty-two year old knew you like the back of his hand, and underneath his socially awkward self, was someone who just wanted to make you happy.

a kpop idol dating a regular, non celebrity individual, was difficult to say the least; it was hard to match up your schedules, but in the end, you two made it work. you never complained about him being too busy, and you often encouraged him to continue doing what he loved. that’s what made you two work so well, the ability to understand each other.

mark was never the type to lash out. in fact, you don’t think you have ever seen him angry before the incident. he would get frustrated, but never angry. and he never took it out on you. with two upcoming comebacks, you knew he would be stressed out, but you tried your best to help him out. you would bring food for all the members at practice, clean up the dorm, and you gave him as much love as possible.

he loved any form of skinship with you, he found it comforting during his difficult times — so you didn’t think twice when you went to go hug him when he came back to the dorm after practice. he opened the door, no one behind him as he seemingly came home early from work that day.

you smiled when you heard the sound of the lock turning, switching your phone off as you ran to the front door to greet him. he looked so exhausted when you finally caught a glimpse of his face. he took off his shoes and hung up his jacket, but as soon as he was finished, you wrapped your arms around him. this time was different. he didn’t even bother hugging you back, instead he basically shrugged you off and walked straight to the dining table.

you didn’t think much of it at the time, you just thought that he had been working too much the past few days so it was fine if he didn’t want to hug you. yes, you were taken aback at first, but you got over it. you followed him, watching him sit down in silence as he ate the food you cooked.

“does it taste okay?” you asked, sitting down across from him. he replied with more silence, barely even sparing you a glance. that’s when you began suspecting something was wrong, and you weren’t sure if it was work or if it was something you did.

you decided not to say anything until he was finished eating, hoping that maybe he would actually respond to you with actual words when he was done. the time is filled with the sound of his chopsticks against his bowl and the car horns honking outside the dorm.

you watched him swallow his last bite and get up to wash his bowl. you take this opportunity to speak again, questioning, “are you okay?”

“fine,” he answered, in almost a snappy tone. he put his now clean bowl back in the cupboard.

“are you sure?” at this point you were beginning to worry a bit more, thoughts raced through your mind, trying to pinpoint the source of his irregular unpleasantness.

“yeah, i said i’m fine.”

what a liar, you thought to yourself as he placed both of his hands on the edge of the counter.

“we both know that isn’t true,” you knew what was coming. although it was rare, you always had a feeling of when you two would argue.

“holy shit, how many times do i need to say it? i’m fine!”

mark’s sudden outburst makes you flinch, and it made you wish that you had just left it alone the first time you asked. despite the volume change in his voice, you continued to speak.

“you know you can tell me anything.. that’s why we’re together.”

you realize your attempt to defuse the situation backfired on you when he turned to you, a nasty glare directed towards you upon his face.

“well maybe i don’t want to tell you everything, why can’t you leave me alone for one fucking second!” he fumed, moving his hands to emphasize his words.

in that moment, you’re scared. he had never yelled at you like that. you wouldn’t view yourself as a sensitive person, but it was mark. you were so afraid of disappointing him that having him raise his voice towards you made you feel like you did.

“d-did i do something wrong?” you managed to say quietly, which made him even more irritated than he already was.

“oh my god, you’re what’s wrong. i just wanted one day where i could come home and relax by myself, but here you are! you always think you’re playing the perfect girlfriend. well you’re wrong.”

you froze, choking back cries and holding back tears. you gripped at the hem of your shirt tightly, your knuckles becoming white, “i’m sorry. i didn’t realize that i was affecting you that much.”

he scoffs, clicking his tongue. “there’s a lot of things that you fail to realize.”

“if you truly feel that way, then maybe we shouldn’t be together at all,” although your reply seems argumentative, it's just you trying to make mark calm down. you’re trying to grasp at strings, you only said that statement in the heat of the moment. you knew, or at least you thought, mark wouldn’t end things just because of one argument.

“maybe we shouldn’t.”

your breathing stops for a single moment. you ask yourself, did i hear that right? but when you see the look on his face, you register that was exactly what he said. when that understanding hits, and it hits you hard, you can’t hold back your teardrops anymore. they fall from your eyes like rain, hitting the polished wooden floors.

you don’t say anything, you just stand up to gather your things and muster out a broken-hearted “okay.”

you feel pathetic seven months later for still thinking about him. he didn’t even bother contacting you after the incident, which makes you wonder how long he was actually thinking about breaking up with you.

of course the other members checked up on you a lot, but you somewhat drifted away from most of them. they always said you were always welcome to come over if mark wasn’t home, but you politely declined. you had been out with them a lot, but recently you have been trying to stay away.

the only people you talk to regularly were jaehyun and johnny, their company was always comforting and they never mentioned mark around you. whenever you hung around the dreamies they always tried to play matchmaker, making up reasons to get you and mark back together.

“should we order food or something?” johnny suggests as he lays on your black l-shaped couch. jaehyun is sitting on the ground, watching a random netflix movie intently with his feet under your coffee table.

“what do you feel like?” you ask, taking a seat next to jaehyun.

they always came over, knowing well that you weren’t comfortable in the dorm anymore. you appreciate how they always keep in mind your feelings and thoughts when it came to mark, they never try to push your boundaries and they wouldn’t bother you about your love life.

“actually i heard about this really good pork katsu place,” jaehyun chimes, turning his head to look at johnny.

“sounds good to me,” you chime.

a sudden noise from johnny’s phone makes you look in his direction. his eyes widen for a split second, but he gets up to answer it right after.

“i’ll order it right after this call,” he says, walking to your hallway. you can’t help but bitterly smile, knowing it was mark. otherwise johnny would have answered it in front of you.

“i’m at her house right now.. yeah she’s doing good,” you hear his voice say to mark on the phone. cute, he was still checking up on you.

jaehyun is fast to try and switch your attention to him, asking, “is it okay if we sleepover today? just need a break from the others.”

“sure, we can watch movies and you guys can sleep on my couch,” you nod your head, diving your hand into a bowl of popcorn that sat on your coffee table.

the night was still young — the moonlight creeping in and shining in your dimly lit living room. the dialogue of the movie is intriguing, but not interesting enough to overlap your desire to hear johnny’s conversation with mark.

“just call her..”

your anxiety can’t help but shoot up when the idea of mark calling you after seven long and hard months after your separation. you were sure he stopped caring the day you walked out the door, or even before that. in your mind, if he truly didn’t mean what he said that night, he would have tried to make contact with you earlier.

“do you have blankets?” jaehyun piped, his head turning in your direction.

“yeah one second, i’ll grab them!” you answer, standing up to get the faux wool sheets from your linen closet. almost right on time, johnny was just hanging up the phone when he saw you.

“you heard that?” he says to you, almost hoping you didn’t. you nod, although you haven’t completely healed from everything, you weren’t fragile. you could handle hearing mark’s name.

“don’t worry about it, he’s just being an idiot,” johnny consoles you. you shrug.

“it’s fine, he’s your friend! i get it,” you tell him, “but could you help me get the blankets and pillows from my closet?”

“of course.”

you reenter the living room with johnny, items for your sleepover in each other’s hands. jaehyun watches you two, specifically johnny as they exchange eye contact (probably due to his abrupt phone call).

you snicker, “you guys don’t have to baby me anymore. i swear i’m okay.”

“what do you mean? we aren’t babying you,” jaehyun clicks out of his movie, searching for a different one for the three of you to watch.

“you can talk about mark, c’mon you guys suck at hiding stuff,” you can’t help but laugh in your head. they could keep comebacks a secret for months but couldn’t keep quiet about one guy? you weren’t complaining, in reality you couldn’t blame them at all.

“sorry y/n,” jaehyun awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, and you pat his shoulder.

“don’t apologize! i’m okay, i promise,” you try to reassure them. by the looks on their faces, you can tell they still feel a bit bad. you quickly snatch the remote out of jaehyun’s hands, noticing that the glances between him and johnny was stopping him from deciding on a movie.

yes, the recovery for you after the separation was hard, and you understood why the two tall boys were wary about talking about him to you. after all, they pretty much had to watch you go through everything. not to mention how they also knew mark’s side of the story, which you chose not to ask about.

in the end, you felt like you had grown from most of the hurt you were put through. sure, there were still some flashing memories and multiple instances where you would ask yourself what led up to that moment, but you usually brushed it off with no other questions.

let’s just say a lot of the damage had already been dealt with and worked through, so now you just want to focus on yourself and your friends. but you knew for sure that if mark came back and asked to be with you again, you would never hesitate on saying yes.

—

you stretch your arms out with a yawn, a blanket strewn across your figure that you don’t remember putting on. you tiredly rub at your eyes, sun rays shining nicely onto your floor. you found yourself on the couch, head nearly touching johnny’s as he scrolled on his phone.

he was lying the opposite direction as you, a pillow on his chest and his eyes flashed to yours.

“you’re finally awake,” he teases, a dumb grin on his face at the sight of your bed hair. a strong scent of fried eggs fills your nostrils, which makes you sit up and peek to your left. it’s jaehyun, placing plates of food proudly onto your white dining table. there’s a satisfactory smile on his face as he does so.

he catches sight of you, patting the table. “hungry?”

you get up from your spot on the couch as johnny does the same. all three of you take seats at the dining table, happily munching on the arrangement of eggs, toast, and hashbrowns.

“should we do anything today?” you queried, covering your mouth with one hand as you chewed. you watch as your two friends exchange looks, like they both knew what to say.

“we have a performance later tonight.. we really want you to come and i’m sure the others would love to see you too. but of course we’ll respect your decision on whether or not you want to see it.”

they both await your response to jaehyun’s offer, almost nervous to see if you would react poorly. you love jaehyun and johnny, and you miss the rest of the boys too. you’re just unsure about how you would act after not seeing mark for so long.

“what kind of performance is it?” you inquire, and you see jaehyun exhale in relief. “it’s a 127 performance stage, and you’re always welcome to visit us backstage right after the song.”

you’re worried that all the hard work you did to lessen the hurt from months before will all be ruined after seeing mark. but then again, you can’t really say you’re over him if you can’t stand seeing his face. this was your opportunity to face your fears and your past — something you’re well aware of that you have been avoiding.

“but then again, you can just leave right after-”

you cut jaehyun off with a sweet smile, “i’ll be there.”

—

“shit, fuck!” you exclaim to yourself after hitting your hand on your bed frame. when jaehyun and johnny had left your house to go practice before the performance, you had covered your face in horror when you realized exactly what you agreed to.

you threw outfits around your room, anxiously holding up different pieces up to your body while checking the mirror. you don’t know what came over you, a surge of confidence or maybe it had been you overestimating your ability to keep your composure.

who were you kidding? you would never be getting over mark. as strong as you crave to be, you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if you were still together until this day.

there was way too much anxiety building up inside of you, constantly deciding if you should dress up nicely to show that you were fine without him, or just settling on sweatpants to make him think you didn’t care what he thought anymore.

your eyes are switching from both outfits rapidly, silently cursing yourself for getting into this situation in the first place. you throw your sweats on the ground, checking the time on your phone before putting on a brown skirt and white tshirt that suited your frame nicely.

johnny and jaehyun were sweet enough to get early access for you, so you could beat all the other fans and not deal with the craziness of being stepped on while rushing into the venue.

you threw on a cream oversized cardigan, slipping a brown bag over your shoulder, rushing to put your shoes on and get out of the door. of course your phone was blowing up, you knew that your two friends had told others in the 127 subunit about your sudden attendance.

donghyuck was going crazy, spamming you at every second saying he was so excited to see you again. his messages included questions of your arrival, plans after the show, and just random selfies and pictures of the other members. you would constantly smile at the goofy photos that he would take, and it made you less nervous to go to the venue.

the taxi ride on the way was quiet, with your mind full of possible scenarios that could occur and emotions that had a chance of erupting. clouds scattered around the blue sky, the sun shining brightly into the leather seated car. your hands are settled on your legs, eyes on the cars passing by. the driver sparks up small talk, probably in hopes of a generous tip as you respond with simple answers.

your heartbeat grows faster and louder when the building enters your line of sight. fans are already lining up, flashes of color from the adorable handmade signs that they clutched casually. you smile at a cute gigantic photo of jaehyun, directing the driver to a side entrance where you could enter quietly, and unseen.

you thank the driver, handing him cash before stepping out of the car. you look up at the building, putting a hand on your forehead to block out the sun. two bodyguards are placed at the entrance, standing intimidatingly as they stare at you. you reach into your bagt, taking out your phone to text jaehyun.

just then, the door opens. a man who you do not recognize has a headset on, a mask over his face as he motions for you to approach him. you quickly rush over to him, straightening out your outfit as the bodyguards make way for you to enter.

once you set foot inside, it’s quite dark compared to the brightness of the daylight outside. the air conditioning is soothing and the faint sound of music fills your ears, probably from the stage itself.

“hello,” you greet the man as soon as the door closes. he speaks into a walkie-talkie, before greeting you back. he ushers you to follow him, leading you to where you will be in the audience. he seems to be trying to move as quickly as possible, which is understandable.

he pushes open a door, revealing the stage and some of the members on it. he speaks to another worker briefly, before telling you to just stand in the front. you move awkwardly, watching as donghyuck and doyoung spoke to each other. they didn’t notice you in the dark, not until you reached the front of the stage.

their eyes shifted towards you, donghyuck’s eyes widening.

“y/n!” he ran to you like a little kid, climbing down the stairs with a smile on his face. doyoung followed closely behind him, also happy to see you.

before you’re able to react, hyuck is enveloping you in a huge hug, crushing you. he’s pretty much squealing while doyoung ruffles your hair. it had been months since you last saw them, saying you didn’t miss this would be a blatant lie. you happily wrap your arms around the boy, smiling back.

he pulls away, shaking your shoulders excitedly. “i can’t believe you’re here!”

“how have you been?” doyoung gushes.

“i’ve been good! i’m so glad i get to see you guys again, and i get to see you performing too!” you exclaim, a cheery look evident on your face when you admire the two. you take the time to soak in the venue, the scene set for the stage, the screens, and the countless number of cameras scattered about.

“you’re so cute y/n,” donghyuck coos, pinching your cheek. you squint in slight pain, rubbing your face after he let go.

“i’m sure the others will be happy to see you after,” doyoung mentions. he turns to hyuck, who is still babying you and clinging onto your arm. you forgot how much he loved to smother you, and how much you craved seeing the others again. you were always close to the boys — you just seemed to easily get along with them and grow comfortable in their presence.

“we should prepare before the fans are let in, we don’t want our y/n getting in trouble,” doyoung reminds the younget, patting your shoulder. the corners of your lips lift at the gesture, nodding along.

“no scandals, please,” you say jokingly, making hyuck roll his eyes.

“can’t we talk just a little longer?” he practically begs. doyoung pushes him away before he can protest, saying, “we’ll see her after the performance!”

you wave them goodbye, watching the staff run across the stage and pointing them where to go. they walk offstage, the pit of nervousness in your stomach beginning to grow larger.

right on time, the fans start pouring in, the chaos is relatively contained. a staff member was directing the fans who would be standing, while the people sitting in the upper sections found their seats on their own. lightsticks were basically in everyone’s hands, making you feel a bit guilty for not getting one for yourself.

the talking grows louder as people start taking places next to you. you were right against the barricade, and you’re grateful that everyone was polite enough to not push against each other that much. some people have signs, some wearing cute headbands with a member’s name or face, and some with pickets.

“i’m so excited,” a fan says to you, catching you off guard. you forgot that people at concerts were usually friendly, but that’s what makes you love them so much.

“me too,” you agree, which isn’t exactly the truth. you’re more uneasy than excited.

“who’s your bias?” she asks you, going on her tippy toes to see if she could catch a glimpse of a member offstage.

you purse your lips, “hm, not sure. i like them all. what about you?”

“definitely mark!” she beams happily, and you smile at her thrilled reaction. gosh, you always failed to remember how popular mark is with his fanbase. it makes sense, especially with the amount of talent he holds — and you can’t forget his attractiveness.

the screams grow louder as the lights begin to dim, shadows moving around the stage. the people surrounding you let out ear piercing screams, making your face scrunch up as you cover your ears for a moment.

finally, the shadows stop moving. they create a formation, standing completely still. that’s when the onstage lighting is cued, revealing none other than nct 127. the fans are going wild, doyoung standing in the middle as he scans the crowd.

when the music begins to fade in, you can’t help but adjust to your environment and join in to cheer for your friends. your eyes shift to all of them, just so overjoyed to see their faces again. you have no idea who knows you’re here and who doesn’t, so you’re hoping to give them a pleasant surprise if they are able to spot you amongst the sea of people.

your face immediately drops when mark comes to the middle for the choreography. although it’s not in a bad way, it was just a habit of yours. you can’t help but fixate on him, his movements, his rapping, everything about him is just so mesmerizing. the girl next to you, who biases mark, sounds like she’s going through all five stages of grief when he does his part.

his dancing is so sharp and precise, yet there are so many levels of fluidity involved in it. his stage presence is amazing, keeping your eyes on him. it makes your stomach churn, hands gripping on the black metal barricade in front of you. you paid no attention to the fanchants being cheered in unison, only focusing on mark.

his eyes are going through everyone standing in the front row. he offers small smiles and facials to fit the song, and when his stare lands on you, he has to do a double take. you watch when his eyes flash to the next fan, only to go back to you. when he realizes that it’s you, his eyebrows furrowed together, making you a little embarrassed.

maybe you shouldn’t have come, because just watching him perform sparks up emotions that you buried deep down. for the entire dance, you can only keep your attention to mark. he would look somewhere else throughout the comeback stage, but often his gaze would return to you.

the audience space wasn’t huge, so the lighting was perfect to see everyone who stands right in front of the stage. that’s why you’re sure mark had seen you, because when the entire thing ends, he makes sure to take one last glance over to you before walking off with his members.

—

you’re left waiting in the audience once the performance ends, patiently lingering about as everyone leaves. you’re quite thankful that no one found it suspicious, as an article about you visiting the members backstage is the last thing you wanted. once the last of the fans exit the building, a staff member politely guides you to the members’ whereabouts.

you hear loud laughter and talking, being greeted with white hallways and doors. there are stylists and other employees packing their belongings, the sounds of makeup bags zipping open and closed fills your ears. you wave at those you recognize, offering small smiles to those you don’t. finally, you reach a half open door with a couple of the boys joking around with each other.

the person who was escorting you parted ways with you, and you make sure to thank them as well. you take a peek inside, seeing donghyuck, doyoung, johnny, and jaehyun. you smile to yourself, gripping your bag tighter. you knock softly on the door, poking your head through the doorway.

their heads cock towards your direction, all four of their faces relaxing when they realize that it’s you.

“you’re back!” hyuck bubbles, running towards you once again. you’re half relieved that mark isn’t in the same room, but the other half is a mix of emotions that you aren’t quite sure of.

before you know it, donghyuck is dragging you farther inside the room. johnny is lying down on the black leather couch, jaehyun propped up in a chair by the mirrors, while doyoung sits on the floor.

“wow, you actually came,” johnny says, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask playfully, glaring at him.

“nothing!”

“i missed you so much,” donghyuck exaggerates, unable to stop hugging you. he had always been the most clingy towards you, although in the past it had driven mark a little crazy, you didn’t mind at all.

“me too!” a voice chimed in from behind you. you turn your head, spotting yuta from the door you originally entered from. he has a huge grin on his face, acting just like donghyuck as he skips happily to hug you.

“did you enjoy the performance?” jaehyun asks, pointing to the chair next to him, indicating to you to sit next to him. you let go of donghyuck and yuta, which they weren’t so happy about. you smooth out the wrinkles in your outfit, nodding your head.

“it was amazing! it’s been so long since i’ve gotten to see you guys live and i almost forgot how talented you guys are,” you praise.

“we’re glad you liked it,” doyoung states, smiling. sitting around like this, around them, makes you reminisce on your past. all the dinners and hang outs, the visits to the dorm, the sleepovers, everything. you hope that everyday forward, you will be able to see them normally. they were quite literally your only friends you spent time with, and although you love johnny and jaehyun to death, you loved the others too.

“hey did you guys see my—”

your heart stops. you could recognize that voice from anywhere, even when you’re turned away from the entrance to the dressing room. the room falls silent, all eyes are on the person behind you. you turn your chair, only to be met with mark’s eyes. he’s standing still, already changed out of his stage outfit. you can see that the others are trying to find a way to lighten the mood or take the attention off you two, but no one says anything.

when donghyuck darts to leave the room, everyone follows him silently. the room is just left with the two of you, who are unable to say anything. all you do is look at each other, almost in disbelief. your face is heating up, with a strong urge to run away, hide. anything to get yourself away from here. mark’s lips are slightly parted, searching for the right words to say.

“i’m glad you came,” he blurts out, making you stare anywhere besides his brown orbs.

“oh,” you let out, “i didn’t think you would want to see me.”

your heart is shattering into a million pieces all over again, just by seeing his face. you’re reminded of what he said to you that night, how cruel he acted, the days you spent crying over the fact that you lost the love of your life.

“you look nice,” your head perks up, surprised to hear him say that. your heart thumps louder, legs pressed tightly together as the constant feeling of anxiousness begins to build up inside you once again.

“you too..”

“i-i wanted to talk to you actually,” mark manages to stutter out, his same old awkward self showing. “but not here though.”

you’re unsure of what is happening, questioning if this is even real, or if your mind is playing tricks on you.

“i’m not sure i’m comfortable with that.”

“please,” he basically pleads. his face has softened, eyes begging you to just hear what he has to say. it scares you so much, being sucked in like this again. he always had a way that made you melt into his hand, even if he was unaware of it. “i just want to talk about what happened..”

you were unsure if that was supposed to make you feel better. you didn’t know if you wanted to know what made him end your relationship, either way, you’re certain that it probably wouldn’t change anything. he would just be breaking your heart a little more.

“mark..”

“it’s not what you think,” he says, and for a moment, you can see a glimpse of hope. the glimmer that you want to deny, but the way he’s looking at you right now makes you want to say yes so badly.

he can’t stop staring at you as you get lost deep in thought. you’re eyeing him, full of contemplation as you have an internal battle with your own self. if anything, he owes you. even if it’s as little as an explanation, you deserve it.

you look to your hands again, which are sweating as they clasp together in your lap.

“okay.”

—

if someone had told you months ago, while you were recovering from the breakup, that you would be sitting in mark lee’s car months later, you would have laughed in their face. but as ironic as it sounds, here you were; overthinking every movement, sitting in quietness, incapable of speaking a single word to each other.

the radio isn’t on, the only sound is the engine and the passing cars that drove beside you. at times, you would find yourself glimpsing at his face, catching sight of him and how he still looked amazing.

you would quickly look back towards the window though, in fear of being caught. as much as you dreamt about this moment, you were still so scared. you didn’t want to have to go through what happened in the past twice.

you didn’t think of yourself as frail, in fact you believed you were someone who stood their ground. but when it came to mark, you could never say no. you classified it as a bad habit that you thought you got over, but your current situation proved to you that the habit still existed.

“we’re here,” mark breathes, placing the gear in park. he unbuckles his seatbelt, looking towards you. you’re nervous, but meet his eyes.

“are you okay?” he asks with concern. at this point, you don’t know what being okay means anymore. you had spent so much time in the past, convincing yourself that you were okay. but as you sit, next to the boy who you thought was your everything, you can’t tell if you had ever been okay in the first place.

“i think so,” you can’t help but mutter out in a small voice. he nods his head once, as you undo your own seatbelt as well. you both get out of the car at the same time, and you can’t lie that you’re taken aback when you realize he had parked right by a park, with a view of the water.

“why are we here?” you sound more irritated than you intended, causing mark to run a hand through his brown locks.

“so we could talk..”

“i didn’t think you would bring me someplace like this,” you reply back. although you’re a little confused, you follow mark to a picnic table that he guides you to.

you sit across from mark, hands placed on your thighs nervously. he’s looking at you the entire time, almost as if he’s studying your every movement.

“what is it?” you finally bring up. you needed to know why mark brought you here, and what this meant to him.

“is it okay if i explain myself?”

your heart basically sinks to your stomach. of course this is all he wanted, a chance to tell you the reasoning behind his decisions. you’re upset at yourself for making yourself vulnerable once again; putting your heart on your sleeve for mark to crush not once, but twice.

your legs are trembling under the table, your lip quivering ever so slightly. it isn’t noticeable to mark, and you’re praying that he doesn’t see your shakiness as you prepare yourself for his story. your posture isn’t the best, slightly hunched over only to relieve yourself of the intolerable twists your stomach was making. you nod your head, waiting for him to begin.

he takes a deep breath first, placing his hands on the table, “i’m going to begin with the obvious, the way i treated you wasn’t cool of me. as your boyfriend at the time, i wasn’t thinking straight.”

“okay,” is the only response you give.

“i fucked up badly. i’ll never forget what i said that night, and i’m sure you haven’t either. you were around me all the time, just taking care of me in general and making sure that i was healthy and going above and beyond. i didn’t deserve you. i just thought you were being clingy, and this isn’t an excuse but work was so stressful that i decided to mess up the one thing that kept me going.”

you’re beginning to zone out, processing his words. what was he trying to say? you’re so lost, numb almost, still in a wave of shock. your eyebrows are scrunched together, staring at his hands.

“when i brought it up with the other guys, they told me i wouldn’t realize what i lost until it was gone. until you were gone, and to be frank, they were right,” he places his elbows on the table, using both of his hands to hold either sides of his head.

“mark-”

“that’s not all i did wrong, i know. i didn’t even check up on you directly because i was so frustrated with what i did, i couldn’t face the shame. during the time we dated, i was always so caught up in my own business that i barely did anything for you, and i knew you would find someone better. someone who would treat you the way you’re meant to be treated, and i wasn’t ready to hear about that. but now i’m ready to face it, and i don’t have the right to ask you to forgive me, but i just need you to know how truly sorry i am.”

you don’t comprehend that mark is crying until his tears are dripping onto the paint chipped table. he looks at you with watery eyes, making you want to cry in return.

“you hurt me so badly,” you sniffle, wiping a tear from your face with your sleeve. he takes the chance to take your hand, holding it like he’s afraid to let go.

“i know i did, fuck, i’m so damn sorry,” he acknowledges, sucking in his bottom lip. “you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and i just needed to tell you that. i would never forgive myself if i didn’t, because everything i said to you when i was angry meant absolutely nothing. i don’t want this to affect you any longer, i don’t want you thinking you did anything wrong. you were, i mean are perfect.”

your fingers are intertwined so tightly, puffy eyes staring at each other. he gets up so swiftly, sitting next to you as he engulfs you in a secure hug. he buries his head in the crook of your neck while you grip at his sleeves.

“one more,” you whisper to him. he backs his head away, eyes red as he smiles sadly. he leans forward towards your lips, placing them on yours with shut eyes.

it’s full of passion, but not heat filled passion. it’s like you’re both trying to fill the holes in your heart that mark had created in the first place, mending your hearts back into one. it’s one of the things you missed most, being able to feel this again. the feeling of being safe in his arms, like there’s a whole world out there, but in the moment, the only things that mattered was you two.

everything that you suppressed is flowing back with one kiss, a kiss that you had been thinking about for quite a long time. he tucks your hair behind your ears as he pulls you closer, never wanting to stop. you both just want to live together, here in this very point in time.

he pulls away, wiping the tears from your eyes with his hand.

“mark,” you sigh, taking ahold of his face with both of your hands.

“i know,” he nods. “but you said one more.”

you smile at him, pecking his lips again. his eyes widen in surprise.

“i meant one more chance.”

his mouth opens, staring at you in disbelief. when he hears you say that, he can’t help but kiss every part of your face. by now, both of your teardrops had been turned into those of contentment.

“i will never hurt you like that again, and that’s a promise,” he states, “and i never intend to break it.”

you both rest your foreheads against each other, still so full of happiness to finally be brought back together. you hope mark is being truthful, because you know you can’t go through all of that pain again. but with that look on mark’s face, your trust starts to slowly build up again. paired with his apology, you know that he meant what he said.

you know that you found your best friend and the person you want to be with forever, especially when you watch the sunset together, just enjoying each others’ company. you’re sure that things will not end up like last time, and you’re certain that everything between you would be alright.

and from that point forward — it is.

#mark #mark fluff #mark angst #mark fanfic #mark imagine #mark lee #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #mark lee fanfic #mark lee imagine #nct #nct angst #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct imagine #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u

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scarlettsandmaroons · 1 year

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midnights like this | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter three | chapter four: he is sunshine

chapter summary: your mother was crazy. and when the realization of something you long denied, defended even, hit you, your first instinct was to leave, and drink until midnight. it didn't occur to you that you might run into the woman who took a share in making your life miserable.

warnings: a more dig into the evident mommy issues; a fight with your terrible mother, curse words, kind of long, unedited.

a/n: here's the long awaited update. i don't think it's as good as expected for a chapter that took too long to be uploaded, but I PROMISE YOU IT GETS BETTER. anyways, i'm sorry it took so long! christmas break is right around the corner, and i had to get so much done.

your mother once slapped you so hard your vision went black for 5 seconds. that was over the peanut butter she had you look for but couldn't find. she got so mad at you, she hit you. you were five that time.

growing up, you always tried to find a way to hold some grudge against your mother. one would say it's easy. she hits you everyday; every chance she gets, and you would be stuck with the bruises she left you for the next day until she gives you new ones.

she yells at you, always. never had she not yelled at you for anything. she brought home weird guys who you'd often catch her have sex with in the kitchen. she embarrasses you. she once flashed your neighbors in anger as if her boobs would prove a point.

she manipulated you. gaslighted you into doing everything for her. from picking up her drugs from her dealer, to dropping it off to her boyfriend's house.

you were a kid. that was your life everyday from when you learned how to walk, until you met billy in fourth grade.

you can't really hate your mother though. she was an addict. she's a drunk. for a while, you two lived in her van which she filled of off with weed and beer. she hurt you in every way that a mother can possibly a child. she was terrible. and you hate her for that. but sometimes, there's a thought that tugs at the back of your mind, a feeling that you're being illogical. that you're being unfair. she was an addict. she needed help. why would i hate someone who needed help?

but you needed help too. away from her. but you can't. you're stuck with her. who would possibly look after her.

you promised yourself you'd do good in school. she hurt you everytime you don't. so you can get out of there and be on your own. you knew she'd hurt you if she saw your grades.

you were holding your report card in your hand, and mrs. romanoff did fail you. until you saw it, you held onto that small ounce of hope that she's only doing everything to scare you, to humiliate you. you hoped she wouldn't follow through. you prayed your friend's little outburst at least defended how dedicated you are; how much of a good student you are.

of course, to pray that she was like those professor in movies who beat you to shape by humiliating you, but reaches an arc where becomes proud of you for whatever kind of declamatory speech you give them, might be a little too much. it should be enough that you're still here a week later. not suspended, not expelled, still here.

but it never hurts to hope.

well, it does—when you hope a little too much. the disappointment hurts. when you dream a little too high, and suddenly, you come crashing down, it hurts.

"at least she's your only failing grade," billy's eyes stayed on the paper you gave him which your professor took the liberty of laminating. you have this theory that she only did that to emphasize—to immortalize the only two failing grades you have, both from her, among your otherwise "straight a student" grades. but that just made you all the more disappointed which is a feeling you share with billy.

neither of you were disappointed of you, of your performance. your sleepless nights, and your caffeine-induced body did not deserve a below 50% grade. you were disappointed of how little to none your efforts did in persuading mrs. romanoff. of course, you didn't persuade her. you basically yelled at her. but still, if she had only let you leave when you asked her to, you wouldn't have resorted to barging in her office and invading her space by accusing her. but you were even more disappointed of how little your efforts in her class weighed in on your grade.

"i mean, she is a terrible professor," she's not. she is terribly good. "that's a lie. she's just a bad person."

billy groaned frustratingly. "she's not though!" he insisted. "she is a good person."

billy always came to defend mrs. romanoff. despite having barged into her office, pointing fingers at her, and calling her biased, he never lets you think she is a bad person. he defended her. and maybe that's why you have this small hope within you that maybe, just maybe; she's kind. she's nice. and from what you've heard, she is. from what he told you, the little boy who was "auntie nat's little bill", she is nice. just not to her students. and especially, not to you.

the both of you continued walking even as he dropped his hands to his sides. "if she were, she wouldn't give a student whose life almost revolves around her subject, a failing grade," you argue. "not even just a failing grade. the failing grade."

"she is a good person. i grew up with her. she was auntie nat. and eventually—"

"maybe she doesn't have a family," you theorized. you said it as if it were some massive discovery, which if you turn out to be right, might just be one. if she turns out to be a sad lonely woman then it might explain why she's been so hard on her students. on you.

"she does!"

"i just don't understand why she's targeting me—why she seems to be targeting me," you sighed out in deep frustration. "what is it with me. why me?"

you've been walking around campus for a while. that's always been your bonding with billy. you two like to walk, to tire yourselves. it's always better than spending money for the same purpose: to hang out.

and then you dropped everything, even billy. "mrs. maximoff?!" you were sure your scream echoed through the hallway of the left wing and into the offices of your professors as all regard for absolutely anything was washed away by the sight of a brown-haired woman who was striking through the hallway as if she owned the place. you ran to her, and she was quick to open her arms wide to welcomed you into a hug. you were much excited to see her than her own son.

your nose nuzzled through the crook of her neck. you inhaled her, you took her in and her motherly warmth. how you've missed her. she was your second mother. she was your mother. being with her, seeing her, hugging her filled the gap in your heart. the void left by your own mother.

mrs. maximoff wrapped you in a tight hug. "y/n, oh how you've grown!" she says, pulling you away by the shoulders so she can let the image of you sink in. and then she pulled you in her arms again, "i missed you so much."

your heart screamed of so much joy while your arm clung to billy's mother. you toured the university, gone through every hallway, every crevice. and while billy walked almost dreadfully slow behind the two of you, the most special women in his life walked gleefully in front of him as they shared laughter and stories.

"will you be going back to your revenge hair though?" you asked. "oh!!! i would love to see it. please go back to your revenger hair."

"i might when i get divorced again."

she laughed and continued on your conversation. she invited you out for lunch, and then for a stroll down the park, and after your second class with mrs. romanoff, you find her waiting for you outside with a smile on her face.

it almost made you cry, how appreciative she was of you. she was more of a mother to you that day than your mother ever was. you spent the entire day together, at some point losing billy but not entirely caring. she continued on listening to your stories, encouraging you to go on.

she knows your situation with your mother. for almost the entirety of your childhood, you stayed in the maximoff household because yours was too dysfunctional for a kid. she took you in until your mother broke up with her boyfriend and demand that you return.

you hadn't seen mrs. maximoff until now.

"what if you stay with us tonight?"

your day with mrs. maximoff ended when you had reached the gate. she held you by the shoulders and looked at you with hopeful eyes. "i don't want our day to end. if it were up to me, i'll keep you forever!" she says.

you laugh at her, forcing your arms to tangle against hers so you too can hold her by the shoulders.

"what weird mother-daughter ritual is my mother forcing on you now?" you ignored billy's comment as he approched you.

"i'll ask my mother." you say. neither you or mrs. maximoff acknowledged billy who was almost forcing himself to be seen.

"i'll prepare the guest room."

"hello, yoo-hoo. am i invisible or something?" billy waves a hand in between the both of you, to which his mother only scoffs at annoyed.

"oh shut up, billy." mrs. maximoff says playfully.

billy frowned as he dropped his shoulders and slouched. "but i thought you came here for me!"

"sure. anyways," his mother looked back at you. you were sure going to tease him about how you'd always been the favorite child later. "i'll make your favorite!"

you laughed. "i think the last meal you remember to be my favorite was cotton candy with pop rocks."

"true." she clings her arms with yours again. closing the gap between you, and the space to which billy can squeeze in. "but i hear a lot about you, so you should trust me."

you looked at billy behind you and flashed him a playful glare. "what have you been telling mrs. maximoff!"

"mama, dear. call me mama."

you melted.

your mother never lets you call her mom. at first, not in public. and eventually, not even when you two are alone. so to say you had a bad mother, was an understatement. you didn't have a mother at all.

and somehow, for the first time since you left billy's house, you feel like you did.

"mom!"

your loud angry call echoed around the walls of your two-floored house. but somehow, the squelching sound of your mother eating out the face of some man against the wall of the staircase was louder.

you could feel yourself shrinking. not only was your house a terrible mess, your 40 year old, alcohol-reeked, duster wearing, mother was also grinding her every bit to the man who seems so closely your age.

clothes scatter on the floor. dirty plates, peeking from the arc of your living room where it's stacked near the couch. nothing is where it should be. there were shoes everywhere; trash on the floors.

you spent your whole teenage years living in this dump. at some point, you stopped caring. but mrs. maximoff...

her house had always been so cozy. so neat. it was never messy. she made sure that it was clean, and tidy, but never so much that it looks like a showroom. she made sure it felt like a home, that it felt like people lived in it. she had each member of the family incorporated in her house, from using her children's kindergarten artwork as decoration, to using their favorite colors as the scheme for her home.

it always smelled like roses, and tuberose, and fancy hotel bathrooms in her house. everything is where it should be. and they're a functional family. mrs. maximoff, although going through a rough patch with her husband, had always been so loving, so kind. she is a good mother.

nothing about billy's family is similar to yours. not that you had a family in the first place but god did you wish you did.

"god, mom! stop!" you scream again. your head shaking from the sheer force of your voice.

you felt mrs. maximoff's hand on your shoulder. for a moment, you weren't sure if she was taking pity. seeing the state you'd lived in for years, does she feel sorry for you?

if she did, you'd hate her.

"y/n, dear. i'll talk to your mother." she whispered softly. "go upstairs."

"oh perfect, sweetie, you're here. meet my new boyfriend." your mother said with pride as she moved away from the boy so slowly as if basking in the feeling of getting caught.

"janet, please," mrs. maximoff pleaded.

"wanda, sweetheart, are you here to take my daughter again?" your mother slowly walked down the stairs, her hand waving in the air until her fist slammed against the wall, "because no!" she yelled. her eyes dark, and angry. and then she laughed again. like a maniac, a psychopath.

her eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks were deeply hollowed from drugs. the way she looks now would have never lead you to believe that she was once a scientist two decades ago.

her last study was of quantum physics. she and her husband, hank pym, got so far into the study that they, at some point discovered a way into the quantum realm.

that was around the time her first daughter was born. hope van dyne. after the discovery of the quantum realm, your mother wanted to go into it. to further their research. to go inside it. the obsession she had over the study, her life long work, made her a negligent mother and wife.

hank left her with hope. with a note, of all less. and he took everything.

she told you that when you were five and she got so high she couldn't make it passed the porch so you laid down with her. suddenly, all of it made sense. it shouldn't to a five year old, but it did to you. she wasn't crazy. not a scientist turned crazy. but a woman who lost her family.

"mom..." you called out.

"don't!," she yelled, taking you aback to which mrs. maximoff quickly pulled you behind her. "call me mom!" she breathes out. and suddenly, with a calm and composed demeanor, like a switch inside her flipped, she smiles, "call me janet, dear."

she continued to advance towards you. very slowly, it scared you. "janet, you're not well—"

she slapped mrs. maximoff.

it was so loud, so hard, it echoed around the whole house. it rung in your ear, and you felt it in your chest.

at that moment, you understood why hank left her. why he pursued the study on his own. why her kid never called her. she was crazy. that's why her family left her.

you couldn't for years because you felt sorry for her. for the way she lost everything. but now you see how she deserves it.

you had to leave.

at least, tonight.

so you did. you pulled away from mrs. maximoff's grasp and took a cab to the farthest pub you can afford to pay him to take you to.

you weren't sure if you were allowed to be served a drink. but when the bartender saw your teary eyes, and your severely worn out state, he didn't question anything. instead, he served you a drink you didn't really asked for, and continued to until midnight, when you had a couple and could barely stay on the stool without almost falling off.

the bartender had to hold you by the shoulders on multiple occasion to make sure you didn't fall down. yet, you continued drinking until your mind was so fuzzy, you couldn't even hold yourself up so you had to lay your head on the counter.

you raised a finger, and in quite a declarative tone, said, "another on—"

but you were cut off. "that's enough for her, thank you." the woman says with nonchalance. "i'll pay. do you take card?"

you recognized that voice. though, your very blurry vision and barely opened eyes only allowed your sight a view of the woman's waist and the line between her red top and her skirt, you knew who that was.

"mrs. romanoff!" you said with what your intoxicated brain made it seem to be such a great discovery. "what are you doing here?"

"you're too young to drink, aren't you?" she says, placing something inside her clutch, while you force yourself to sit up. "on a school night too."

"why do you care?" you say, looking up.

"i don't."

she was standing beside you, towering over you. despite the blurriness, you can still see her eyes as clearly as ever. she had these deep set of green eyes that you'd never ever want to look away from. the kind that pulls you in. she pulls you in. even when she's scary. even when she humiliates you. somehow, she's still so... beautiful.

how can such a beautiful person be so mean.

"why do you hate me so much?" you ask.

"i don't hate you."

"why are you targeting me? i might not be excelling in your subject, but i'm better than others. i don't see anyone else receiving a failing grade, so why are you targeting me?" you were practically yelling at her, exactly the way that billy did. you wanted to tell her how shitty your life was. you wanted to give her a rundown of everything that happened to you. you wanted to tell her that your life was already shit, to ask her why she has to make it worse. why were you given a life like that? a professor like her? why you? "why me?"

"because you make it so easy," she says casually.

you sighed, looking away and slouching against the marble counter. "that's just mean." you say."you're mean."

"what do you want me to do about it?"

"i want you to be nice."

"how."

there was a pause. you might be pushing it. but you were drunk. you had a shitty day. you don't care if you even get kicked of the school. your life was already shit, it would only be shittier, and when you grow up from a life like that, you stop even hoping for anything to get better.

"billy tells me your nice in your house. outside of school. do that to me..."

"do what to you?"

"say hi to me. greet me. cook me eggs. stroke my hair, love me." you looked back at her with pleading eyes. you didn't know what you were asking for, only that you so desperately wanted her respect, even her validation; to be seen, and treated like a human being she actually acknowledged, that you were begging her to do just that. "treat me as if you live with me. find it in your heart to love me. so it will be easier for you to be nice to me."

"you want me to be nice to you that much?"

she continued looking down at you. she didn't sit down. she just looked at you, her body merely a few inches away from you that you'd gotten more drunk on her scent than you did on alcohol.

"yes."

she smelled like rose water, vanilla, and cherries. she smelled so good. you wanted to get drunk on her forever.

"okay."

#ath: natasha romanoff #ath: natasha romanoff series (wasn't midnight rain)#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #billy maximoff #billy maximoff fanfic #billy maximoff imagine #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfic

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hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 3 months

Text

Sweet past - ch.3

Summary: You meet Ellie for the first time and see Sarah again after three years.

Pairing: dbf!Joel x reader

Warnings: mention of death, foul language, angst.

AN: This will be angsty for a while, so buckle up... And a slow burn soooo.... :D

Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Source: Pinterest

“You are aware I'm 15, not 5?” He knew this was how she would react. Typical Ellie. But he knew that if he hadn't called, she would have given him hell for not letting her know he wasn't coming back for the night.

“I am just letting you know, kid.” He sighed and sat down. “I'm not sure what time I'll be back."

“That bad?” There were so many differences between her and Sarah; however, one thing that they both had in common was how emotionally alert they were.

“She's forcing herself to be strong." He sighed and closed his eyes. “She's always been like that. I don't want to push her. We got time, you know?” Ellie hummed, and Joel smiled softly at the teenager. When he discussed you with the girl, she was excited to meet you, but it was also her intention to tell Joel not to push you if you didn’t want to talk. She, after all, knew perfectly well what it was not to want to talk about things.

“Make her that omelet you always make us when we have a shitty day." He chuckled softly, but his heart skipped a bit at the protectiveness in the girl's voice, despite not meeting you yet. “I'll be fine here, so take care of her. Say hi from me.” And she was gone. Joel sighed, laughing quietly to himself. Every teenager is the same.

Joel Miller wasn't a man with all the answers. Far from it, most of the time he didn't really know what he was doing. Whether it was with Sarah, Ellie, or now with you, what he does know is that he will do whatever he can to take as much pain away from you as he is capable.

He never considered himself an aggressive man, either. Normally, he tried to be calm and steady, trying to think as logically as possible. It's not that he never took part in any fights. He was from Texas, after all, and Tommy was his brother. But even when the fights did occur, they were the last possible option. He tried to always follow his head rather than his heart. Emotions were never the answer for Joel.

He tried to take logical steps when he heard about Sarah being bullied in primary school; he didn't kill her first boyfriend, who broke her heart; and he definitely did not punch every couple out there that rejected Ellie. And yet, he got physical with his best friend the second he hurt you. Something broke in Joel that day. He tried to get his friend straight after his wife died, but he never felt like he had a right to do anything. Sure, he was the family's friend, but that was it.

He has hated himself for that since then. He hated that he didn't do anything sooner. He blamed himself for your leaving. If he had done something sooner, maybe your father would have woken the fuck up and you would not have to go through so much pain. And yet all he did was punch his best friend after he dared to lay his hand on you.

He stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, seeing you staring into nothingness. He knew you were suffering the same kind of pain he did. If not even bigger, after all, Joel was able to see your dad's change. He has been here with him for the past three years. He didn't blame you, and he wasn't even sure if he could ever truly understand your pain. This was why he decided that he would make sure that you would not have to live through it anymore.

And so he hugged you and let you lean on him. He has taken care of you like he wanted to since your mother died. This is why, when you asked him to stay, he did lay next to you, letting you use him to repel all the nightmares.

***

You weren't sure you remembered when the last time was when the smell of someone else's cooking woke you up. What was also surprising was the fact that you felt like you had a good night's sleep. And it hasn't happened in a very long time, for sure.

You frowned, not really remembering how you got into bed or why the hell you slept with your clothes on, but this wasn't really important now. Your stomach was pulling you into the kitchen, where that amazing smell was coming from. And what you noticed was something you thought you'd never see with your own two eyes.

“Is the world ending?” He turned, raising his brows at you. “Joel fucking Miller in the kitchen. Cooking!"

"Keep running that smart mouth, and you won't get anything.” You raised your hands in the air in surrender and walked towards the coffee machine, but he stopped you, pointing at the table. “I got it; sit down. You still drink orange juice after coffee?” You nodded, blushing softly at the fact that he remembered. “You taught Sarah that, and now I always have to have that fucking juice at home when she visits.” He grumbles, and you can't help but laugh. A sweet, quiet laugh he adores so much.

“It's healthy for you!” You tried defending yourself, thanking him when he got your coffee. Already with milk and sugar. Your heart skips a beat at the thought that he knows you so well.

“That shit has more sugar in it than whatever the hell Sarah drinks at Starbucks.” You rolled your eyes but smirked while drinking the juice. "Trouble,” he muttered, pushing the plate with an omelet on it. “I make it for girls when they... well, don't have the best of times in their lives.” He noticed you blinking rapidly, not to let the tears fall, and all he wanted was to drag you into his arms and never let go.

You were a family, after all.

“It's actually amazing!” You exclaimed and happily devoured the breakfast.

“Stop sounding so surprised. I needed to learn how to cook someday... “ He mumbled, and you raised your brow at him.

“Does that mean you can cook anything else?”

“Shut up and eat your omelet!” You chuckled at that, and he forced himself to ignore the skip of his heartbeat at the sound of it.

The silence was just right. There was no awkwardness there, and he was surprised to feel natural. Domestic in some way, but he liked it. He wanted you to be comfortable with him, and this moment showed that despite the time difference, you haven't seen each other, he is still someone special to you. Or at least he hoped for that.

“Joel?” He tilted his head, hearing a change of tone in your voice. He was happy to see you ate everything off, but something was weird about the air now. All of a sudden. “I want this to be small. Just family. Just us…” His eyes widened for a second, but he nodded, taking your hand in his. “I will take care of everything; will you let me?” Even at times like that, you were considerate of him and his feelings. “I want it done as soon as possible. It may sound awful, but the longer I wait, the more I can't live with myself thinking that…”

“It's all up to you. It was your father, sweetheart. I will help you if you need me, and stay away if you want to do it all by yourself.” You nodded, and deep down, Joel thought there was something more bothering you. But Ellie's voice nudged him not to push it.

***

It took three days to make everything work. Apparently, when the whole ordeal isn't big, this can be taken care of by hand. You didn't know if it was something your dad would want, but you didn't really have anything else to give. You decide to bury him next to your mother so they can be together forever. After all, you assume this was what he really wanted.

You were in your kitchen, preparing food for tomorrow when you heard your name called from the house entry.

“In the kitchen!” you yelled back, cleaning your hands. You turned around to welcome Joel but stood there frozen. There, in the middle of your kitchen, stood a teenage girl. She couldn't be more than 5’3”. Her auburn hair was tied in a ponytail. Intelligent, pale green eyes were staring at you. There was some mischievousness in them, but also softness that reminded you of Joel a bit. Her fair skin was decorated with freckles and a scar on her right brow. She was a beautiful girl. “Hi!” You finally said, smiling softly at the girl. You cleaned your hands onto the apron and extended it towards her.

“Hi! I'm Ellie," she introduced herself, grabbing your hand. A small, awkward smile appeared on her still-a-bit childish face. “Joel assumed it would be better to introduce myself before you know..."

“Ellie!” Joel growled at the girl, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“It's fine!” You chuckled, pulling her down to sit down at the table. “I'm happy to finally meet you.”

“Really?” She sounded surprised, and you frowned, hearing the actual surprise in her voice.

“Of course! After what Joel told me about you, I couldn't wait to finally get to know you." Her eyes shone with innocent happiness from your words, and from the corner of your eyes, you could see Joel whispering a very quiet ‘thank you’. “I am preparing some food for tomorrow. I'm happy to get some rest and eat something. You guys hungry?”

“Starving!” Ellie groaned loudly.

“You're always hungry!” Joel scoffed, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Is Chinese fine?”

“Let me pay, Joel. You paid for the pizza, and you did the shopping for me.” You were about to take out your card when his hand landed on yours.

“Put that away, before I get mad.” You raised your brow at him in a challenging matter, but let it slide. This time. You will get him for that the next time.

“So tell me, Ellie, how is Mr. Grumpy doing?” Seeing the mischievousness in her eyes and the smirk, you knew you would find common ground with the teenager very quickly.

***

“How are you holding up?” You still cannot believe how much Sarah has changed in the three years since you last saw her. She wasn't a teenager anymore. She was a young woman, a student. You didn't know her mom, but the more you looked into her eyes, the more you saw Joel in them.

“Been better. But hell, it's been worse as well,” you shrugged, leaning your head on her shoulder. The ceremony was over. It was short, but it was nice. The pastor prepared a nice speech, and you were surrounded by family. Your small family. And there was something in you that made you happy that your parents were together again.

You have never seen anyone as in love and happy as they were while together. You always laughed that they acted like those teenagers in love. It was sickly sweet. You envied them for that.

“Tired.” You added after a while, and Sarah held your hand, rubbing it softly. “I'm not sure I'm even hungry.” She chuckled, especially when Joel went to the kitchen to heat up the food, taking Ellie with him. You were sure he kind of felt that it would do you good to spend some time with Sarah. Just Sarah.

“You did well for all of this," she murmured, leaning her head on yours. Sarah loved you like a sister. Despite the age difference, you were always close. When you left, you still asked her how she was doing, but something was different. It's like that situation with your father has completely shifted the way you were. And despite all this, you still managed to stay the same kind-hearted person she remembers you for. “What's the plan now?” She felt you tense for a second, hoping she didn't spook you too much with that question.

“Since your dad called me, nothing was really going according to plan.” You sighed and straightened, pulling your head off Sarah's shoulder. “I took two weeks off from work, hoping that it would all work out, but..."

“There's still time then,” she interjected, shrugging, making you raise your brow. “It hasn't even been a whole week yet. Give yourself some time.”

“You sound like Joel; you know that!?” She laughed at that, looking at her dad, who was saying something to Ellie. “How are you with that whole Ellie situation?” She smirked at your change of topic, but let it slide. You were never truly good at opening up.

“Ellie's a spitfire, but damn, it's hard not to love her, you know?” You smiled at that, happy to hear that Sarah wasn't feeling left out in all of this. “Not to mention, I like to know that the old man isn't alone when I'm at uni, you know."

“He's not that old, you know!” She looked at you and sighed, rolling her eyes. “He's not even 40 yet.”

“He will be this year." You chuckled at that and shook your head. “Can I be honest with ya?” You nodded, and she smiled sadly. “I don't know if ya want to hear it or not, but your dad and my dad... they were able to make up. Your leaving was like a slap in the face for your dad, and he got his shit together. But despite all of this, I always felt like Dad was bearing some heavy burden on his shoulders. I asked him once what it was, but you know him," you hummed, frowning slightly. “I think he feels guilty for what happened. I feel that as well.” You turned around to Interject, but she put up her hand, asking you silently to let her finish. “I always thought that I couldn't do anything because I was a kid. I was a stupid teenager, but I realize now that I was just afraid of seeing you fall apart. As long as you were standing tall, I thought everything was OK. But I now understand that we, as your family, should have done something sooner. If I feel that way, I can't imagine what that stubborn mool feels.” She took your hand and looked at you with teary eyes. “So I will ask you for the last selfish thing. Talk to him. Have the conversation you two probably need but have tried to avoid. If there is anyone who can take that burden off his shoulders, it is you. And he is the only one who knows you and sees the true you. So promise me that you both will talk."

“You, Sarah Miller, are the least selfish person.” You squeezed her hand and smiled encouragingly, hoping it would ease her mind. “I'm sorry that we made you worry. I never intended for this, whatever that was, with my father to have such an impact on you two. I guess I was trying to ignore the fact and didn't want to see how it would have affected my father's best friend.

“I didn't mean..." you chuckled softly at her awkward tone.

“I know you didn't. You just made me realize that saying goodbye to my father is not the only thing I need to do.” She smiled and nodded, looking back, when you heard both Ellie and Joel arguing about something. The tired look on his face made you chuckle. Unaware of Sarah's gaze traveling between you and her dad.

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedrohub #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 2 years

Text

Wildest dreams, pt. 16

Summary: Meeting the imprints.

Warnings: fluff, angst

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

Sitting in the corner of what she could best describe as an all-girls sleepover, Y/N sipped on her tea trying to ignore the drying tear stains on her shirt. Her lower lip quivers each time she releases it from her teeth formed prison, the flesh bruised and swollen after her merciless, anxiety induced chewing.

Emily catches her gaze every now and then, but Y/N is quick to avert her eyes. She had been given some space to gather her thoughts, but how can she do that when her mind is far too engrossed in the very real possibility of losing Paul before she even had a chance to call him hers?

Would destiny be so cruel? After all the time she spent ripping him apart for things that happened so long ago, she would deserve this.

But he wouldn’t.

Paul wouldn’t deserve to die just to torture Y/N, or so she hopes.

“They’ll be fine”, one of the girl speaks to her. Her hair is short, down to her shoulders – black as is usual in La Push. Her face is wide, mainly in the cheeks thus making her eyes seem smaller than they are. The dark eyes reflect empathy, a kindness of spirit that allows Y/N to relax. She remembers her from high school. She was one of the few girls that hung around with the guys.

Y/N used to be so jealous of her,

At least she understands now.

“You’re Kim”, Y/N states. “Jared’s imprint.”

Nodding, Kim smiles softly. “One of the first imprints in the pack.” Reaching for Y/N’s hand, her smile widens. They’ve seen each other quite a lot, but they’ve never really spoken. When Paul was stuck to the bed, she barely paid any mind to anyone else and Kim understood that. She wouldn’t be interested in making new friends if something happened to Jared either. “I’ve done this quite a lot. It’s almost never anything more than a few scrapes and bruises.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N frowns. “I haven’t done this a lot, but mine came back with a lot worse last time.”

“Paul is strong. One of the strongest in the pack.” Looking around carefully, she leans in and whispers. “Don’t tell Jared I said that.”

Pressing the tip of her thumb and pointer finger, she runs them over her lips and locks them before throwing away the imaginary key over her right shoulder.

“Does the worry and constant fear fade away?” Placing her hand over her heart, Y/N lets out a shuddered breath. “I don’t think I can survive many more nights like this.”

“It’s always there”, a blonde speaks up. “Just as your love for him is. It’s like a phantom limb.” Shrugging, she manages a small smile as she looks at her hands. “Ever since I met Embry, I’ve felt it. I didn’t know the truth for the first few months of dating and I still felt it.”

She’s stunning. Shaking her head, Y/N suppresses a chuckle in disbelief. All those years ago, Y/N was so certain she’d marry Embry and they’d have a perfect life…like most young girls do. It never occurred to her they’d stop being friends at sixteen, or that their lives would be so different.

This girl is the epitome of beauty – as if the sun itself kissed her hair golden and the skies reflect in her eyes. She’s all Y/N never was nor can be. It’s silly, but the teenage girl that harbored those feelings for Embry is genuinely stumped at how dumb her crush was when this is his type.

“Embry never told me he imprinted.” Y/N admits.

“I’m Daisy.” Her eyes lighten up. “I’ve heard so much about you. Feels like I know you already!” It doesn’t look like she knows Y/N’s history with Embry and Y/N has no plans on changing that. Stirring drama isn’t good for anyone involved.

“I look forward getting to know you.” Y/N offers a friendly smile and for once, she means it. She can’t help but look around the room.

Next, she met Claire – Quil’s imprint. She’s still in high school and they’re friends. She’s dating her best friend – Andrea, who is also present.

The other girls were rather young as well, imprints of those who joined the pack as mere children at a time when vampires were frequent in the area.

They told her about Leah and Owen who live in Los Angeles, and of their daughter who is starting kindergarten.

Seth is one of the rare wolves who has yet to imprint on anyone, or so they said.

“What about Jacob?” Y/N furrows her eyebrows, confused. “You said almost everyone has an imprint. Does Jacob?”

Emily clears her throat. “He does.”

“Oh”, escapes her. She didn’t know if she was more hurt about the fact he didn’t tell her himself or about the way he talked to her as if he was interested in starting a romantic relationship with her when he came back.

Sure, not all imprints are romantic, Claire and Quil aren’t, but she didn’t believe Jacob would be able to resist a connection like that. It’s cosmic, all consuming. At least it is for her. So what happened to have him acting the way he did with her?

Before she can ask for details, the door opens and in an instant the room is overcome with joy. She watched as the girls leapt from their seats and into the arms of their loved ones. Emily kissed Sam, Claire and Andrea embraced Quil, Daisy nearly knocked Embry over as she jumped from the couch and straight into his chest.

Lips parting, she grips the hem of her skirt as Paul moves past Sam and pauses in front of the coffee table. Shirtless, the muscles on his chest move up and down as his breathing quickens at the sight of his imprint.

She’s curled in a chair, her hands shaking as she grips the hem of her skirt, pulling it down to make sure she’s appropriately covered. Her eyes are glossy, tied to him as if he’s the anchor she desperately needs to hold on to. His eyes flicker to the quivering chin and it’s enough for him to smile – she cares. Moving to her side, he falls to her knees before her.

Most would assume she’s indifferent, but they’d be blind. She’s tired, fighting tears and likely can’t even feel her legs to actually stand and run to his arms and he can feel it in his heart and soul that’s what she wanted to do. He didn’t need her to do that, he didn’t even see it worthy of a second thought. All he wants is to hold her hand and remind her he’s there – that he always will be.

And that’s exactly what he does.

The moment the palm of his hand rests over her pale knuckles, her hands relax and without a moment to waste, Y/N’s arms are wrapped around him, her face hiding in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay”, he whispers as he pulls her closer and lifts her up only to sit in her place, allowing her to remain in his lap, wrapped around him. “I’m here, dove. I’m here.”

“I hate that nickname”, she reminds him meekly and he can’t help but chuckle.

“Might grow on you”, he insists.

“You know, we are here too?! We deserve a hug, don’t we?” Embry exclaims, earning himself a middle finger from Paul.

“Oh, nice! Real mature!” Jacob remarks.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N pulls herself away just enough to rest her temple on Paul’s shoulder. “As mature as neither of you telling me you’ve imprinted”, she sasses back and Embry glances at Daisy nervously.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I’ve already been pushed off a cliff and into the ocean of madness you’ve got going on here. Meeting your soulmates would be a vacation compared to everything else”, she deadpans. “And Daisy is pretty amazing.”

“I know, right?!” Embry smirks as he pulls Daisy into a half embrace.

Raising her brows, she looks to Jacob. “And where’s yours?”

“Probably best we leave that for later”, Paul warns her gently.

“Why? What could be worse than Quil imprinting on a little girl?”

“Hey!” Quil pipes up.

“Well, she’s right”, Claire remarks and he quiets down.

“A newborn”, Seth spills the beans instead.

Wide eyes, she looks to Jacob. “No frickin’ way.”

“Mhmm”, Jared laughs. “Bella’s one minute old vampire baby!”

Opening her mouth to speak, Y/N stares at Jacob without a single word leaving her lips.

“Oh, come on! I didn’t exactly have a choice!” He reminds everyone. “If I did, I’d have imprinted on you!” Jacob points at Y/N.

Gripping her hip tighter, Paul narrows his eyes at Jacob. “Better watch that finger as well as your mouth, Jake.”

Tapping Paul’s shoulder, Y/N pecks his cheek. “We should probably go before you decide to eat Jacob for dinner.”

“He can try”, Jacob snorts, further angering Paul.

Realizing he’s shaking, Y/N swallows thickly. Placing her hand on his cheek, she turns his head to look at her.

The anger is burning in his eyes like a bonfire, spreading through his veins like a forest fire and yet, the moment she presses her lips against his, it’s as if a wave has washed over him, putting the fire out instantly.

It doesn’t take long for him to return the kiss, pulling Y/N closer until they can hardly breathe.

“WE CAN SEE YOU”, Seth reminds them, causing Y/N to laugh and pull away sheepishly.

“Thanks a lot, Seth”, Paul grimaces.

“What? I’d rather not barf the delicious cupcake I just had!”

And though the night didn’t quite end the way Y/N planned, she enjoyed the dinner they shared as a big family. She enjoyed hearing their stories and while some scared her to the core, being with Paul helped her heartbeat calm to a reasonable pace.

“You do realize I’m wearing an extremely sexy pair of red, lacy panties and a matching bra?” She whispers in his ear as the rest of them all seemed to be lost in their own conversations.

“Heard that”, Quil whines.

Throwing her head back, Y/N groans. “Get up”, she orders Paul who chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender.

“There is no way I’m going anywhere with you.”

With hands on her hips and raised eyebrows, she looks at Paul. “Do you prefer everyone here hearing all the dirty things I’d do to you, or would you rather have me skip theory and go straight to a practical approach?”

Paul hisses, “Temptress!”

“3”, she begins.

“What?”

“2”, she places a hand on her zipper and his eyes widen.

Jumping to his feet, he looks at the amused looks from his brothers in shock. “This is why I never wanted an imprint!”

Raising a brow, she takes a step back. “Excuse me?!”

Embry explodes with laughter, while Quil exclaims. “I GET YOUR HOUSE WHEN SHE KILLS YOU!”

“Not that I regret it”, Paul tries to coerce her to smile, but her eyes narrow at him.

“Sure”, she swallows thickly. “You’re right. Stay here.” Turning on her heel, she waves at everyone. “And I’m going home. Enjoy your night everyone.”

Watching her walk away in confusion, Paul rubs his forehead.

“What the fuck did I even do?”

“You basically told her that you didn’t want to imprint”, Daisy exclaims. “Which translates to: I didn’t want to be with you, but I am because a magic bond has made sure I can’t leave.”

Huffing, he shakes his head. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re a bigger idiot for standing there instead of running after her.”

“I was gonna!” Paul insists. “Just needed to know what to apologize for.”

Shaking his head, Jacob grimaces. “And this is the part where you run after her!”

“RIGHT”

_______________________

Tags: @the-chaotic-cow @xxxjaexxx @captainrogers-19 @bexloxl @laehlaluvs @adaydreamaway08 @sunsetevergreen @volturiwolf @twihard08 @galacticstxrdust @sorrow-and-bliss @ireadthensuetheauthors @missxmarvelous @locokoca @unstablekay @makhaia @venusdelaroix @avadakadabra93 @tearsforhan @a-marie-a @lendeluxe @seagulls-corner @jdbxws @kitabestboy @rottenstyx @itsmytimetoodream @dreamerwasfound @avis15 @whatevenisthisname @julia13123 @convolutings @rachelccollier @prvncessvibes @thingfromlove @jennyamanda8 @havecourage-darling@luvr-exe @alittlejudgemental @bugerie @turningtoclown @vikingsheart12 @emptydoorsandpaintedwindows

A/n - Anyone not tagged has either changed their @ or deactivated their account. If you haven’t and the tag didn’t work for you, let me know. I’d like to apologize for a relatively short chapter after waiting for a while, I’ve been having a lot of personal issues - work, health and especially the overwhelming depressing that’s been trying to win this little war we’ve been having for the past five years. So, I’ll try to be more active and write, but I really can’t make any promises.

PART 17

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote series #twilight #Twilight series #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #jacob black #embry call #sam uley #Quil Ateara #seth clearwater

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writing-whump · 4 months

Text

Ear infection

Isaiah reunites with his younger brother Arnie. Separation angst, ear infection, vomiting.

The university was busy before Christmas. The holidays carried many excuses for events and special offers that attracted potential students. As an assisting student at the psychology faculty, Isaiah was tasked with doing these little tours around the main university building. At regular hours, whether there was a whole high school trip of soon-to-be graduates or just a handful of interested mothers dragging their kids along. Or curious gap year takers thinking about their future plans. Since starting in the summer semester was possible at most faculties, these tours were relevant at the end of the year just as much as at its start.

Isaiah liked it. He felt a sense of beautiful responsibility that his tour and comments of the building's history and insight into student life could inspire someone to choose the main university or even his faculty. It was like watching the new generation pick its way.

"But why do not all classes occur here?" asked someone from the little crowd he gathered.

"The main university building is usually reserved for big lectures. We are talking about 300-500 people. The new university building has smaller classrooms that are more fitting for seminar settings of 20-30 people," he explained dutifully.

"So the university has more than one building?"

Yes, that was a favorite confusion question. "The university has many building complexes all over the city. The main building we are at is the largest and oldest one, but the newer ones are down both these streets. The new institute building or NIG is right next to it, where most of the faculties have their own floors and their respective teaching stuff have their offices."

"So it's like each faculty has a building or floor reserved for them? Like their own base?"

"Yes, that's a good comparison," Isaiah agreed. Base was a very wolf-related word, since each pack had their own base or layer in the city. It was correct, he just never used it in this context.

"What are you studying, sir, if I may ask?"

Isaiah was starting to be curious about the young male voice that kept asking as well, letting the group continue down the hall as he stood, trying to pick out his face.

"Psychology. Almost done with my master," he replied, turning his head.

"And you are already an assistant? That's nice for a mere student. And they don't mind you are a wolf?"

Isaiah's head jerked upright. Some people from the group hesitated mid-step to give him a confused look.

Isaiah was a wolf, a known one at that, and officially admitted at the faculty. But he prided himself in appearing completely human, in not letting his shadow act out of place. Ordinarily, he could do it with such finesse and skill, that a crowd of strangers wasn't able to recognize he was a wolf.

"Wolves can study at the university at any faculty they want," Isaiah recited automatically. "As long as they have their graduation and the wolf adult exam behind them."

"Are you saying there is no danger whatsover, when humans study with wolves?"

Isaiah could pick out a blonde head, but the boy asking was covered by a group of higher boys in front of him as they trailed after the group.

"There is danger whenever humans do anything together," Isaiah replied with a raised eyebrow. The group was almost at the end of the line,...finally the person asking came into view.

A mop of thick blond hair, carefully styled into locks. His face was long and elegant, though his cheeks still had that youthful fluffiness of teenage years. He looked a lot like Hector, just thinner and smaller, with way less muscle, but all the more cheekiness. His eyes weren't ember brown like Hector's either, but clear, bright emerald green. A colour Isaiah knew very well. It greeted him every day in the mirror.

Surprisingly enough, Arnold "Arnie" Wolfson hadn't change that much since he was 12, except his height. Lanky, cheeky and with eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I can say from experience wolves don't like humans in their packs very much, even their own family. It's funny that the tables turn at university," Arnie said with a grin, hands on his hips in challenge.

Isaiah was too stunned for words.

"What is it, mister psychology assistant? Wolf got your tongue? Or should I say shadow?" the blond teased.

"Arnie..."

"In the flesh," the blond boy said with a smile, though his eyes narrowed at him. "I'm glad you remember me."

"What are you doing here?" Was all Isaiah managed through his astonishment. It was like seeing a ghost, except the ghost grew up.

"Looking through my options, of course. I'm graduating this year and this is a famous university. Pretty high on the 100 best universities of the world list. Several lists, really. Good thing it's not that far from my base."

"Thats....ehmm...that's wonderful."

Arnie gave him a look. "So what now? Is the tour over?"

Isaiah shook himself awake, suspecting Arnie was enjoying this very much and turned back, putting his professional persona back on. He continued the tour more distracted than ever, his eyes always going back to look for Arnie in the crowd.

The next 30 minutes were torture. Isaiah couldn't focus, kept mixing up names of the auditoriums, led the group to a dead end twice until he simply let them out in the park, pointing at the Christmas market held in front of the university. That was fortunately enough of a distraction, the crowd dissolving in excitement.

When Arnie looked like he would turn and go too, Isaiah quickly hurried after him. It was like a bolt of lightning hit him in the head, but he was not about to let that bolt go now that it was there.

"Wait. Arnie, you-" he cringed at his own clumsiness. "Do you ehhh want to get lunch together? I know a good place."

Arnie gave him a toothy smile. "I thought you would never ask."

***

What do you talk about with a brother you haven't seen in last 6 years? After he left without explanation or contact information, getting exiled from the pack? Everyone called Isaiah a traitor. Their current leader, Uncle Grayson, gave an order to leave him alone, that he was no longer of interest.

Well, Arnie wasn't just a pack member. He was his brother and not a wolf to have to listen to orders. Shadows, dominance, power plays - those were wolf concerns he didn't have to worry about.

It turned out to be surprisingly easy to track Isaiah on social media. Facebook page, twitter, liking university announcements and public lectures, sharing events and new publications at the faculty...

That he was an assistant already was clear as a day. A point of pride. Arnie didn't quite know how to meet him, but he figured if he hung around all those events mentioned on his profile, he was bound to meet him somewhere.

Arnie's head was still spinning from the speed at which everything was going.

After the initial shock, Isaiah settled into a polite and serious mask - all professional smiles, suit and all. He brought him to a pretty good sushi place, bombarding him with enthusiastic questions about his favourite subjects, grades, hobbies, how he was, what faculties he was considering, if he needed help with finding somewhere to live or would be staying in the Wolfson pack base.

They didn't touch the topics Arnie actually wanted to ask about. Why did you leave? What happened to you? Didn't you miss us? Didn't you miss me?

Isaiah wasn't secretive about his own passions either. He told him all about his love for psychology, his favourite professors, research he was doing about city life and mental health and atmospheres of third places or whatever that was about. He mentioned he was known for mediating conflicts between packs and that he had many contacts, offering Arnie to arrange meetings with any friend or colleague whose studies Arnie could be interested in.

It was like a very polite and eager relative. You meet once a ten years when you need something from their city, they give you recommendations, pretend to catch up and then whoosh. See you in ten years. Isaiah was talking and asking for information to last him for at least that long.

Neither of them mentioned the Wolfson pack. Isaiah didn't ask about how Uncle Grayson was doing as a leader. Nor did he ask about Father. He mentioned meeting Hector in an off-hand way, like sure, we see each other at that wolf meet or in that park sometime.

When Hector talked about Isaiah, he never sounded so nonchalant about it. He always looked on the verge of breaking something or having an angry fit.

Was this all it was going to be? Catch up, pretend interest and goodbye?

Isaiah paid for his meal without asking and then took him to the Christmas market himself. It was pretty late at that point, temperature heading towards zero. Arnie was getting cold, but he wouldn't ruin his hair with a beanie and he wouldn't give Isaiah the excuse to go home by saying he was cold.

Isaiah was all flushed with energy, not minding the cold in typical wolf fashion.

It was impossible to keep up with wolves. Arnie was used to it.

As a human in a pack of wolves, Arnie was used to being the one defined by what he lacked. Humans in wolf families were common disappointments, things to be barely tolerated by the rest. Their position, just like Arnie's, depended on the rank of the wolf members in his family and their willingness to defend him.

For a very long time, he was spared of that knowledge though.

He had his brothers to thank for that. Isaiah was a prodigy since childhood and Hector was always chasing after him with enthusiasm and energy. They were well-respected and high ranking in their pack, no problems with their shadows since he could remember.

And they have never treated him any differently for being a human. Maybe they had been more careful and gentle with their shadows, but he had actually not realized there was anything wrong with him until he went outside of the protective den of their family apartment.

When other wolf pups his age or older made fun of him for being a useless human for the first time, Hector beat them with his bare hands, no shadow needed. Isaiah had held him in a hug the whole afternoon after like he couldn't bear to let go.

Arnie slowly realized that as a human, he was never getting anyone's respect in the pack. He would always be the defective one.

But he also quickly realized that he would never be touched again. Living with wolves meant always being surrounded by violence, being on the edge of it, always ready and eager. But Arnie was never afraid, never touched, never threatened.

Other wolves did not think any more of him for it. If anything, they hated him for that position and opted to ignore him completely.

But he always had his brothers. Even and maybe more so after his mother died when he was 4 and he forgot her voice and her face. Even when father was busy or ignoring him just like everyone else was.

At home, he was a person. He was valued and wanted and listened to and Isaiah and Hector never treated him like anything less, and hardly different than they did each other. Maybe a little better.

Things changed when Isaiah's training with their father intensified and he became the executioner for the pack. That was the first time Arnie had called for his brother, expecting to be given priority over anything else Isaiah could be doing - and he got no answer. Isaiah would shut the door and not answer for days to come, leaving a hole in their lives from one day to the next.

Now Hector reacted to that in a way a wolf would - he chased after him. With anger, rivalry and jealousy, with aggression and resentment. But Arnie knew at the core of that volatile anger was hurt and yearning to be taken seriously, to be acknowledged.

Hector was reaching out to Isaiah, but he was doing it in a way Arnie couldn't follow. Of that dynamic and effort between his brothers, he was excluded for the first time.

The pack became an incredibly lonely place after that. There was no skill or talent or interest Arnie as a human could prove himself with. There were days he didn't talk with anybody, when he didn't get a single hello. When he didn't know if he even existed, if no one saw him.

What was left to him was watching. He watched and stared and noticed things in his silence and learned to read people. Understand them. Wolves had their mannerisms and tells just like witches and humans did.

And he realized knowing things like this was power. He started to see people's weaknesses and poked at them. Teased. He could look at someone and tell what would hurt them. At night he made a list in his head, going through words and facts he found out, gathering things he knew would sting. Having words that could break someone in his arsenal was a weapon, a power and something they couldn't fight against.

So Arnie talked and he got reactions out of wolves. Helpless kind of hurt and frustration because they couldn't retaliate with a fight, but their shadows made it easy to tell he hit the target on point.

He got even better at this when Isaiah left. Their father was gone from leadership and their brother left them without explanation.

Uncle Grayson took over the pack, and regularly invited him to chess to show his favour.

Hector was inconsolable, his shadow angry and out of control in a way it never had been before. But when Arnie sat down at the gym or in his room beside him, his shadow subsided. Even at his lowest, Hector could not bear to raise his shadow around him. Arnie felt a little less useless, then. Like he brought him a little comfort, even if Hector wouldn't talk and wasn't ready to listen.

Shortly after he settled down, Hector found a new goal. He filled the hole Isaiah left behind with rank, training and hunger for power and success. Again, chasing after Isaiah in a way Arnie couldn't follow. Arnie couldn't resent it, because he understood. Wolves needed a goal or they would lose control.

Hector came into the city because of Isaiah. He spent years convincing their Uncle he could handle opening a new pack branch there, selecting people to take with him, and making a plan for every step and possibility to prove himself.

Arnie wasn't on the list.

But he was 18 now and graduating. It was the year of his entering adulthood that he could choose if he would stay with the pack - which would make them responsible for his finances, give him a cushion for whatever he studied or decided to do - or live by himself. Not like he was a poor orphan. He had lots of money after his mother and father as the youngest Wolfson heir on paper and by law.

The first thing he wanted to do since he turned 18 was to find Isaiah. Hector chased after him, but he resented him. He took Isaiah leaving as a personal betrayal and betrayal of the pack. And their father, who drew back from the pack as well, living alone.

Arnie couldn't care less about the pack politics and power he had no access or influence on anyway. He couldn't care less about a father that had barely spoken three words to him all his life. What he wanted was to find some kind of closure. Confront his brother and find out. What if there was a good reason why Isaiah left? What if there were circumstances out of his control and all he needed was someone to give him a chance to explain himself?

It was just as likely that Isaiah simply wasn't interested in either of them. And that Arnie was just going to humiliate himself by asking for the attention of someone who didn't want him around. Why else not contact any of them for 6 years?

He didn't expect Isaiah to be so friendly or that distant. That they could just talk and act like nothing was amiss with those years of secrets and absence between them.

But here they were.

As the hours went, Arnie was starting to feel anxious about the day coming to an end. Would it even be real, if they never saw each other again? How would Arnie now this truly happened to him in the morning?

Arnie followed after Isaiah a little forelonely to the end of the Christmas market, sneezing discreetly into his elbow.

Isaiah turned to him in thought. "Are you cold? We could...oh." He looked at his wrist watch. It was almost 11 pm. "Everything will be closing up around now. Do you...would you like to come to my place? You can spend the night too if you'd like."

Arnie's eyes went wide in surprise.

"My pack will probably be sleeping already, but you could meet them in the morning. Besides, you don't even know my address, right?"

Arnie couldn't hide how excited and breathless that offer made him. That looked like this wasn't the end!

"Give me your phone," Isaiah bossed, taking it from him and dialing up his own number. He waited until it rang before he returned the phone to Arnie. "There. Now you also have my number. You can call me and we can...we can go get lunch again. Or coffee. Or anything you want. How does that sound?"

Arnie nodded eagerly, feeling like he could cry from happiness. "Thank you! I would like that."

Isaiah smiled, a real wide smile that lit up his whole face. "Alright. Let's go then. It's like 20 minutes from my place by foot. Or would you prefer to take a tram?"

"It's fine, we can walk," Arnie said, waving the cold away. He couldn't feel cold or uncomfortable with how fast his heart was beating or how happy he was. He all but jumped around Isaiah like a goatling as they made their way to the apartment, playing a hundred-question game.

"Your favorite season of the year?" Isaiah asked.

"Summer. Because you can go swimming anytime, anywhere. Is yours still winter?"

"Yep, winter, alright. Everything is so clean and fresh and the snow...:

Arnie laughed. That didn't change much then.

Arnie's mouth was actually hurting from smiling and his teeth were chattering as they went inside.

The apartment was dark, no one was up, as Isaiah promised. Which worked great for Arnie, since he wanted Isaiah entirely for himself.

Isaiah watched him from the side as Arnie rubbed his hands together, getting feeling back into them and went to boil in some tea.

Arnie followed him, sitting down at the round table, watching, trying to soak up every moment, every detail, anything the place could tell him about his brother.

"Are you still a neat freak?" Arnie snickered as he looked around.

Isaiah smirked. "Am not. Everyone else is just untidy."

"Where is your room?"

"At the end of the hall. I share it with Matthew."

"Who is upstairs? The witch?"

"Yes. Seline." Isaiah said her name sweetly, like taking a spoon of honey.

"Ohhh," Arnie's eyes sparkled. "Is she your girlfriend?"

Isaiah took a sharp breath, looking at him. "How did you know?"

"I'm good at reading people," Arnie bragged with a smile, propping his chin on his entwined hands. His head felt kind of heavy and his left ear burned as it warmed up.

"Which tea do you want? I got earl gray, mint, fruit, herbal-"

"Whatever you are having. And exactly like it," Arnie said.

Isaiah gave him a surprised glace and a lifted an eyebrow but complied, smiling slightly to himself.

He brought two cups with mint tea with a bit of milk inside to the table. "I will get you blankets for the sofa. It can be extended and is quite comfortable, if you don't mind it?"

Arnie pouted. "Are we going to sleep already?"

Isaiah chuckled. "You don't want to yet? What would you like to do?"

"I could spend the night talking with you," Arnie said, flushing a little at how honest that was.

Isaiah shook his head as if he couldn't believe it, brushing Arnie's arm as he went by him.

He brought the blankets and Arnie got both of their mugs and they sat on the sofa together, letting a movie play in the background. Arnie had a lot more questions about Isaiah's current favourite movies, TV stations, if studying psychology made him like psychological thrillers more...if he could bridge over the lost 6 years in one night, he would do it.

Arnie didn't notice at what point he dozed off. His eyes were heavy though and he only woke up enough to feel Isaiah taking the mug from his hands and sliding him down on a pillow.

***

Arnie woke up to piercing pain in his ear. He shot up, blinking rapidly.

It hurt in his sleep too, tender to the touch, but now it actually disturbed him enough he didn't think he could sleep.

He wasn't even lying on it, but it still hurt. It felt all stuffed up too, as if he had liquid stuck in it. Oww.

Getting up from the sofa was a slow process, since he needed a little time to orient himself in the dark, unfamiliar place. Small chance he could sleep with the way his ear hurt though.

He went to the kitchen, opening the cupboards half-heartedly to look for medication, but he couldn't find anything useful aside from mugs and plates. Maybe he should wake Isaiah up for a painkiller.

Returning to the living room, he stumbled against a chair and almost fell. The rattle would have woken a man, not just a wolf.

"Arnie? What's going on?" Isaiah's sleepy voice came from the living room. He must have fallen asleep beside him.

"Hey, Zaya? I know this is a bit stupid and I'm sorry to bother you...." He felt dizzy standing there. What was wrong with him? As if his sense of balance was shot. Arnie gripped the edge of the round table, swaying slightly.

Isaiah got up from the sofa immediately, all signs of sleep leaving his face in the few steps he took to get to Arnie. "What's wrong?"

"Do you have any painkillers here? M-my ear really hurts." Arnie tried to smile, hand hovering over the offending organ. It hurt the whole time, as if someone lit it on fire.

Isaiah's eyebrows furrowed. "Your ear? Did you get a cold?" His hand went to Arnie's forehead as if it was the normal thing to do. Arnie froze a little under the touch, but Isaiah's hand was nice and warm and he leaned into it a little, closing his eyes. He still felt weirdly dizzy and untethered, his stomach flipping inside him.

"No, don't think so. It's nothing, Zaya. Promise."

"Uh-uhm." Isaiah didn't look convinced. "You are burning up. Go back under the blankets, I'll find you something."

Arnie nodded gratefully, pushing himself away from the table only to stumble again and lose his balance. The floor came up suddenly and he prepared himself for the impact, when strong hands caught him by the waist. "What's going on with you? It's like you are drunk."

"I don't know..." Arnie blinked dizzily as Isaiah helped him straighten up, then wrapped a hand around his back and led him back to the sofa.

Everything was twirling. Arnie sat down heavily, bowing his head between his knees, taking deep breaths. Trying to calm down. This was nothing serious. He wasn't a child. Despite that, the pain in his ear felt like it was vibrating and he felt heavy and hot.

His throat closed up. He was going to ruin their happy reunion with this. Isaiah would send him home and they would never see each other again.

Isaiah came back shortly, arms stuffed with things he spread out on the table. "Hey. Arnie, lift your arm for me. I'm going to take your temperature. For now, take the ibuprofen. Should help with the pain."

Arnie didn't dare to nod with how out of focus and tilted everything was, accepting the thermometer under his arm and taking the pills with a glass of water.

His stomach wasn't very happy about that gulp, though. It flipped inside him again and he groaned, wrapping his arms around his middle.

"Arnie? Kiddo, hey..."

"Think," he gulped loudly as the nausea spiked and the water sloshed against the back of his throat, "m gonna be sick."

Arnie didn't even have time to think about how entirely embarrassing and disgusting that was and how he was going to chase Isaiah away now for sure.

Isaiah jumped to his feet and Arnie felt the swish of air as he hurried away. He trembled, his mouth flooding with saliva.

His stomach gave a twist and he felt the water shooting up his throat, but suddenly there was a trashcan in his lap. Just in time for him to gag harshly over it as the gulp of water and the painkiller came rushing up, grazing against his throat.

Arnie did not expect the gag to make the pain in his ear explode. Stupid tubes, being all connected. He whimpered as the pressure escalated and he gagged again. Another splash of water and pieces of undigested chestnuts from the market came along with it, hitting the bottom of the trash bag.

He felt tears spring up his eyes as he convulsed over it, fighting off the next gag. Anything to stop the pain in his ear from burning like that. There was drool hanging from his lips and chin and he sobbed.

Isaiah's hand was on his back that instant. He held the trashcan under his chin, murmuring something Arnie didn't understand through the buzzing in his own ears, but it was the gentlest, most soothing tone he ever heard from him. It reminded him of his childhood, how he would curl up on top of Isaiah whenever he was sick and his brother would hold him diligently, wrapping him in his warmth and reassurances.

Arnie pressed his palm against his mouth, trying to stop the next wave. The nausea was still there, made worse by the pain and now his head was pounding as well.

"Shhhh. You are okay. You are okay. Take deep breaths now."

"Hurtssss," Arnie sobbed, his other hand going to his ear as he bowed his head. The trashcan disappeared and Isaiah sat down next to him, rubbing gentle circles against his back.

"Ssshhh. I know. It will be okay. Just calm down. You probably got an ear infection. That's nothing. I'll get you some warm compress for it and it will go away in no time."

Isaiah made a move to stand. Arnie felt a wave of panic and dread rush through him, looking up and blinking rapidly against the bluriness. "No, no, no. Don't go."

"Arnie, I'll be right b-"

"Don't leave me again. Please."

"Just to get the warm compress, kiddo. It will be a second, I promise."

Isaiah left.

Arnie wanted to follow him, but his legs wouldn't hold him. He was shaking from exhaustion, his ear was hurting, and he had to fight against nausea flooding him instantly with the panic. He curled up on the sofa, hands wrapped around his stomach as he sobbed against the leather fabric.

After what felt like million years, something warm pressed against his left ear. Arnie winced, nose all clogged up from snot as he cried, each watery breath making the fire in his ear worse.

Isaiah stood above him for a bit, before he sat down, hands around Arnie. He dragged him over to his lap, letting Arnie curl up on his knees and sob against his chest. He held the warm cloth against Arnie's ear, rubbing his arm in a soothing manner.

Arnie fisted his fingers in Isaiah's shirt. He would not let him go this time around.

***

The rest of the night and early morning went like that. Isaiah held Arnie in his lap, holding the compress to his ear and talking about everything and nothing he could think of. Arnie seemed to react well to his voice.

Sometimes Arnie would sleep fitfully, only to wiggle and trash as he wanted to turn and Isaiah wouldn't let him, tightening his hold so Arnie wouldn't turn on his left ear. Sometimes it would wake him up and make him cry again.

Sometimes he would shudder and swallow heavily, which Isaiah learned by the third time that Arnie drooled all over his front that that was his cue for vomiting.

He held the kid as he vomited into the trashcan in his arms and then sagged back again. The fever was radiating off him and the little whimpers and tears that came with his ear reacting to puking were breaking Isaiah's heart. As if it wasn't broken enough.

Isaiah thought today was a gift. A unique, rare little gift. He didn't dare to contact his brothers on his own. The play pretend that he was the traitor, was important for the pack and he needed his brothers to believe it, so everyone else could believe it. At the time. Now, after years, he resented that duty.

He was also way too scared they hated him by right. Just like Hector did, blaming Isaiah for abandoning them, for putting the pack's future at risk, for choosing a different life instead of theirs...not even if Isaiah explained that every day back at the Wolfson pack was torture for him, that his heart pains were caused by it, that he hated every single second...would they want to listen?

And then Arnie came. All open and eager and giving him a chance instead of bombarding him with questions and accusations.

He needed that. Isaiah needed someone to believe in the good of him for once. It broke him a little every time Hector snarled at him, that neither of his brothers probably believed he didn't leave them willingly, that he missed them like you miss a part of yourself, how he flinched and hurt every time a wolf with a temper or a kid with blond hair passed him by...

Isaiah really let himself hope maybe this wasn't over. That's why he offered Arnie all the contact information. If the boy wanted to stay in touch, maybe Isaiah wouldn't break any promise in seeing him from time to time, even if he never told him the truth. It was too painful and messy and complicated. But if Arnie could accept him as he was, maybe they could rebuild something from there.

Arnie didn't ask why Isaiah left. Not once. Isaiah didn't know what to make of it. Did it mean he was forgiven? Or that Arnie knew something, guessed something and so he wouldn't make Isaiah talk about it?

Did it mean Arnie didn't care anymore and just wanted to check how he was doing and cut contact again? It wasn't like either Arnie or Hector looked or reached out to him, when he was away. He figured they were too hurt and disgusted with him to do so...

But Arnie got downright inconsolable, whenever Isaiah tried to get up. To change his vomit-covered shirt, to get tissues, to get water...Arnie would cry and weil and sob himself into panic Isaiah was leaving again. No matter how Isaiah explained, no matter how quickly he got back.

Matthew found him in the morning as he prepared for his regular run.

"What the fuck happened here?"

Isaiah had to admit it was a mess. There were tissues all over the place, the towels he kept soaking in warm water and held against Arnie's ear and sometimes had to sacrifice when Arnie got sick while still pressed against Isaiah's chest, the thermometer, the packages of pills Arnie couldn't hold down,...

"Hey, Matt. You met my little brother?"

Matthew's eyebrows furrowed. "I met the mean one. Which one is this?"

The kid lay completely limp against him, out of his sweaty shirt, breathing raggedly. But Isaiah thought his fever wasn't so high anymore and he actually kept a few sips of water down for the last hour. He would probably take him to a doctor today anyway, to get that ear checked out.

Isaiah caressed the center of Arnie's creased forehead. "I think this one wants to give me a chance."

---

@bellysoupset

#sickfic #emeto #vomiting #hurt/comfort #bromance #brothers #whump #emeto writing #my writing #werewolf wip #they say writing leads to more writing #I always post these so close to one another #sigh #I should pace it over the week I know #this is a long one 🙈#Arnie

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thiniceofeternalyouth · 6 months

Text

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER FOUR

VOIDRUNNERS

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Chapter warning&tags : ooc, mentions of blood and wounds, profanity, mentions of alcohol and smoking

Words count: ~11.5k

⊲ previous next ⊳

[29 Dec, 2018; 12:01am; hunter's headquarters].

"I've never met anyone so insolent in my life," Gakuganji shifted his gaze from Mei-Mei, who was in no hurry to get up from the table to the sorcerer, who was hastily pulling on a gray jumper ignoring her flirtations. Except the higher-up wasn't referring to either of them.

Gojo didn't care about the old fool's lamentations, and he cared even less about Mei-Mei's mocking taunts. He felt he had to catch up with Shoko, who had long since made her way up to the second floor. Brushing aside the girl's flirtations, he traversed the stairs in two leaps and saw Shoko already turning the handle of one of the doors. "Shoko, wait!"

She didn't have time to slam the door right in his face, but she did manage pinch his fingers with it. Shoko heard a low whimper from the other side, and swung the door open. "You're disgusting," she told him instead of greeting him. "Both of you."

Trying to maintain his usual demeanor, Gojo did his best to brush it off. "Oh, come on. Just wanted to have a little fun, what's wrong with that?"

Taking off her medical gown and tossing it on the dresser, Shoko turned toward him and noticed that he was clutching his already damaged fingers a little too nervously for a careless man. "What's wrong with that? These people have provided us with safe shelter and food while we try to find ways to create protective barriers around the schools without Tengen's involvement, and the first thing you do is fucking on their table," with each word spoken, shame pressed down on his shoulders causing them to slump ever lower. "Actually, I thought you two stopped 'comforting' each other a long time ago."

"There's been a lot going on lately," Gojo shrugged serenely keeping the indifferent but still familiar smile on his face, which disappeared as soon as he remembered what he'd just done. "What should I do?" he said quietly, barely moving his lips.

Hitherto looking at herself in the mirror and trying to wipe away the scattered mascara under her eyes, Shoko instantly turned in his direction, barely hearing the unfamiliar tone in his voice. "Are you in love or something?"

His reaction was so instantaneous that it was instantly clear as day. "W-what?" he perked up directing at her the most puzzled glance possible. "Don't be absurd! I've just never met someone, uh, someone so strong before."

"Uh-huh," Shoko said rolling her eyes. Not wanting to waste another second of time sacrificing precious sleep, she started pulling off her clothes. "First of all, you should at least apologize to her. Second, get out of my room."

To his disgruntled muttering, Shoko finally pushed him out of the room. "Yeah, by the way. I didn't ask your permission to examine Geto's body this time. He was my friend too. So no one will touch him now," she hissed slamming the door in his face.

"Well, I was going to cremate him anyway. After everything that happened," he thought to himself, but in the back of his mind he realized he had earned Ieiri's wrath.

He found himself in an empty, dark hallway, still clenching his aching fingers and shifting nervously from foot to foot. He should have apologized right now if only to just get the weight off his chest. So he thought.

As slowly as possible, Gojo made his way through the kitchen, which was empty, and straight into the hallway. He slowed down and picked up speed again mentally berating himself for his indecisiveness. Amidst the tangle of his own thoughts, he didn't realize how he'd ended up in front of the workroom door. What should he do? Knock? Or just walk in unceremoniously? What if you're already asleep?

Gojo stood like that for a moment longer, and it occurred to him that he really ought to have some decorum in someone else's house. He brought his hand to the door and tapped the metal surface with the knuckle of his index finger. "Come in," it was clearly not your voice.

Opening the door, Gojo's gaze fell on the man's broad back. Someone was going through the mess on your desk. After standing like that for a bit longer, Gojo realized the guy wasn't going to pay attention to him. "Hey. Where's Y/N? I thought I'd find her here."

The young man finally turned around and popped his head up giving him a sharp look of the green eyes that showed from beneath the black strands. "Just left."

The information he had just received made him furrow his eyebrows unhappily and bite the inside of his cheeks in worry. "I mean, she literally just got back, where did she go?"

A bright short flash suddenly illuminated the surroundings and sneaked violet rays through the workroom window causing the objects in it to cast shadows that darted about in a momentary frantic dance. When everything was back to normal, Kyle headed toward the door shoving Gojo with his shoulder along the way. "To the raid."

This information gave him a little less than nothing. Gojo realized that pestering a man who was unfriendly to him with countless questions was pointless, but at least he was entitled to one question. "When is she coming back?"

Already climbing the metal stairs, Kyle simply brushed him off. "Not earlier than in three days."

[31 Dec, 2018; 06:33pm; hunter headquarters]

After the exile of the curse king and a gray man like Kenjiaku the curses seemed to lie low as if they had lost all their courage. No one questioned whether this was true or not because with or without their existence, the life of the sorcerers continued, though in a drastic change of course. That was why now the students of the once Tokyo magical college were comfortably seated in front of the TV in the living room: some sat on the corners of the spacious couch, some sat on the floor having scattered countless cushions. Yuta who was caught in the embrace of Frank's right arm, who kept his gaze fixed on the TV show, shrank into a lump, and looking at the Frank's imposing figure was afraid to move.

After only a few short episodes, Itadori's patience broke baring endless interest. "Frank," Itadori sitting on the floor, popped his head up at the gray-haired man. "What do hunters do after all? From the name, I can figure they hunt, but what exactly do they do?"

Frank hummed not taking his eyes off the TV. "When this whole thing first started, hunters had almost exactly the same thing going on as ya all do. Just as ya seek out and exile curses, they sought out and destroyed the dioreacts. With only one correction - some hunters, who were later appointed superior because of this, had the ability to 'bind' a certain hunter to a certain dioreact. Therefore, hunter would follow in its footsteps, and when he was in close proximity, he couldn't realize where the thing was sitting. As if somewhere in the looking glass. They had to sit and wait, sometimes for months, for it to show up. That's how it was destroyed. Except...," Frank had to release Yuta from his embrace to scratch the back of his head as he held a bottle of beer in his other hand. "I don't know how exactly it happened, but at one point it dawned on hunters that they weren't destroying dioreacts because they started encountering other dioreacts, and they looked completely different - different height, gender, hair color, body type, but something inside told hunters that they had killed this thing before. And just like that, it turned out that hunters were only destroying their bodies, not themselves, which only provoked further fusions," Frank paused for a moment remembering. "Just when things were getting desperate, road to the judges opened up."

Finally turning toward Frank, Itadori folded his arms on the couch and rested his chin on them. "Judges?"

Frank only laughed rubbing the boy on the top of his head. "Don't even ask, kid. We don't know much about them ourselves. They're sort of judges of the creation, but hell knows what our minds paint. Dunno. The only thing we knew for sure was that they helped us get rid of dioreacts with ends. All we had to do was take them to judges, and that's where the question came in. How do ya get a creature that's many times tougher than ya to wear themselves out so that you just can grab them by scruff and take them to judges?

"How?" asked Yuta already regretting having reminded Frank of his existence again.

"Black orchid extract. It doesn't act on dioreacts like holy water does on evil things, of course. If ya spill it on them, they won't sizzle. But if ya cut their flesh with a weapon infused with extract, it causes them great pain. Or if ya inject them with a syringe they get paralyzed, but that's too wasteful of a dosage considering how long and tedious it takes to get it.

"What about dark energy?" asked Itadori examining his hand as if trying on how it would 'look' on him.

All Frank could do was shake his head negatively. "It used to be that the conductivity of hunters' bodies for dark energy was severely limited. There were exceptions to the rules, but no matter how much dark energy the hunters had in them, no matter how sophisticated their spells were, only the bodies that used dioreacts were destroyed."

Everyone's heads came up because there was an indistinct stomping sound from upstairs as if someone were walking unevenly or trying to dance unskillfully. As soon as the stomping died down, Frank took a couple sips from the bottle. "I was an old generation hunter," the living room seemed to fill with the sound of creaking heads turning toward him who directed skeptical, bewildered looks at him. Frank snorted indignantly. "What? I can't to get fat in retirement?" he looked around at everyone present; some of them hid their faces reddened with embarrassment while others continued to stare at him just as incredulously. "Never mind. All in all, as an old generation hunter, I can say that there is no trust in judges. After all, they're going through your memories trying to find some irregularities on a certain dioreact, and the catch is that they were finding hunters' own irregularities as well. Except no one gave us a goddamn list of rulebooks. The only thing that was comforting was that judges never interfered in anything themselves personally, apparently they always busy, so... so hunters went to judges themselves shaking and wondering if they'd come back. A lot of them never came back. Although the tradition with judges still exists, next generation came along, though.

The clumsy stomping that had come from upstairs earlier was heard on the stairs. Rachel, flushed from head to toe, was coming down to the kitchen humming songs as she went. Her red and perpetually curly unruly hair looked much more disheveled, and her unfocused gaze shone like a mirror. Finally making her way downstairs and into the living room, she stopped abruptly and staggered back as if perplexed that there was anyone else in the house but her. After a couple seconds of staring, she greeted everyone with a drunken nod, and turned sharply toward the refrigerator.

All the while, sitting in a cushioned armchair apart from everyone else and trying unusually hard not to draw attention to himself, Gojo watched the drunken Rachel, and his tongue was faster than his thoughts as usual. "Does this new generation of yours do anything? It looks like they're just getting by."

"Says man who can't even wash mug after himself in someone else's house," muttered Kyle who sat in the very corner of the couch and kept his eyes on the screen of his phone shifting his gaze from the news feed to the time.

Propping his head up with a hand, Gojo directed a squinting gaze at Kyle. "Huh? You wanna go outside and talk about it-"

Rachel, who had already managed to find a bottle of wine in the fridge, leaned on the couch and poked her head between Frank and Yuta, her face seemed to have resentment mixed with intoxication. "Actually, we do! Voidrunners. First we go in, then we run, run, run, hic~," she covered her mouth with her palm, her face going pale for a moment. "Then we run some more, then we fight, and if we're lucky we find people, take them out, BUT!" she dramatically raised her hand with her index finger raised. "There are two rules," she shifted her gaze to her index finger, followed immediately by raising her middle finger as well. "That's better. There are two rules! Never break the raid cycle and always carry a watch with ya in the void," noticing Frank's preternaturally reproachful look, Rachel hurriedly removed herself. "Dad, this is the last time, I swear," whereupon she headed drunkenly with a bottle of wine in her hand up the second floor back to her room.

"What was that?" asked Itadori waving away the smell of booze. "Kyle, what was she talking about?"

"Less one knows, better one sleeps," Kyle said without looking away from his phone screen.

"Kyle!" almost everyone in the room exclaimed synchronously. Everyone except Gojo, who was trying too hard to pretend he didn't care, but was praying inwardly that Kyle would be bribed by the voices of his students. He needed to know where you were and what was happening to you.

The green-eyed hunter flipped his phone away irritably and stared at the television not knowing who to stare at, running a hand carelessly through his hair. "What exactly do ya wanna know?"

Still sitting on the floor, Itadori moved closer to him. "What is void?"

"Place that the dioreacts created. It seems we have kinda wrong sun for them and the wind that is too warm, who knows. Because they are in albeit reshaped, but still human bodies, they needed similar 'earthly' settings, but in void there is nothing but heavy dark sand, cold rarefied air, black sky that seems to fall on your head or seems unusually distant. There isn't even a sun, there's some alternate heat source that gives the emptiness a purple glow. It seems the only thing they haven't screwed up is gravity. Still, the universe used very fine tuning to create the Earth, which the dioreacts can't replicate."

Gojo squeezed the arm of his chair in an inexplicable anxiety. So that's what that flash was. You went into the void.

"And the raids... So the raids are conducted there?" a shocked Yuta inquired quietly.

"Yeah," Kyle nodded his head idly as if he was in prostration. "We learned how to get in there freely a few years ago, but getting out isn't so easy - we have to look for rifts left by the dioreacts themselves. After we organized raids. We calculated the average statistical value of how long a hunter can last without food and water under stress. It turned out to be three days for each of us. So we went in, found ourselves in a random place and ran. We can't stop there, or we'll go crazy. If we can't run, we walk. If we can't walk, we crawl. About the rules... One voidrunner must enter the void before another hunter comes out, otherwise everything will be turned upside down, changed places. That didn't seem like such an aggravating factor to us before until we found out that the void wasn't really that empty. We just went in and wiped out the dioreacts that got in the way because the void gave them a vulnerable spot, right here," Kyle tapped the pad of his finger against the center of his collarbones. "It's not easy to do, but it's doable, no black orchids or judges needed. Except that on another raid one of us suddenly discovered a settlement, and it was populated not only by dioreacts, but humans as well. To put it more accurately, slaves. That's why it became important for us to keep order in the void and that's why the raid cycle can't be broken, one of us must be there. If the cycle is broken for even a second, we will lose sight of this settlement. Even if a voidrunner is badly wounded, they is only allowed to leave after his three days are up."

There was silence in the living room. Itadori looked like he didn't want to deal with dark energy and all that it entailed. Yuta looked at Kyle with undisguised respect.

"You mean you're getting people out of there? Can't they come out through rifts on their own?" asked Yuta.

Kyle shook his head slowly, the colored frames of the show reflecting lightly on the skin of his face. "As it turns out, they can't. Even if you take out the sentries, they just can't even get close to the rift, blown to ash. We can take them out with us conducting our dark energy through them, but to maintain a steady flow we have to sacrifice the number of people to keep them from being torn to shreds. So the so-called "evacuation" takes a very long time. That's what we do there. We look for a settlement, take people out, watch the dioreacts, who's doing what, who's at the posts, what time those posts change, we memorize everything and after we take people out, we do the roundups. Well, after everything is cleaned up, we can let everyone come out of the void and have a little vacation before the new race. We were just about out of it by the way, when Y/N started raiding again a couple days ago.

Itadori blinked and popped his head up frowning his eyebrows. "Rachel said something else about the watch!"

Kyle unlocked his phone screen and glanced at the time again. "I know it sounds counter-intuitive, but there is no time in void. Void and our place are causally unrelated. So if ya wanna go home, be nice enough to always carry a watch with ya, that is 'time'. If it suddenly stops or ya lose it, ya'll never get home no matter how fast you run to the rift. As Y/N said, while you're running to the rift, here it's likely the universe has time to go all the way from the big bang to the big crunch. I think if we could take one peek into the void from our world right now, everything would be frozen to us, even the grains of sand that the wind has lifted into the air. So the only sensible thing you can do is look for a settlement and hope that one day the voidrunners will come there and bring time with them," Kyle exhaled convulsively rubbing his fingers together nervously. "I'm telling it like it is now, but how many lives it took while we got it all laid out."

Itadori kept glancing at Kyle not daring to ask any more questions. Yuta was already sitting more relaxed; it was nice to be around people you knew something about, but just as he was getting used to the excessive tactility of the inhabitants of the house, Frank released him from his right arm and stood up from the couch. "I'm gonna go pack up the kids, and yeah, it's time to head back to Hopetown." Frank glanced at his watch, and realizing you should be back soon started packing in a hurry. "Don't wanna get in the hot seat. Keep an eye on everyone here," he gently ruffled Kyle's hair and headed out into the hallway.

The time of your three-day raid was inevitably coming to an end. You should have been home in about five hours. Unless you lost your watch or it broke, or someone broke it on purpose. You had to be back. Kyle wasn't the only one watching the time nervously now; blue eyes were checking the time on his phone now and then, intermittently flicking them up to the television, but only to glance to the face of the clock that hung above it.

[1 Jan, 2019; 12:17am; hunter headquarters; training field]

Your blurred vision began to focus, your surroundings began to gradually take shape, and your hearing finally caught the familiar sound of the crunching of the fragile thin layer of snow beneath your heavy boots. The cold winter wind was enveloping you here, but compared to the cold of the void even this embrace seemed unaccustomedly warm. Unconsciously, you unscrewed the two round respirators from your mask, which made a satisfying, quiet click as it turned. Your lungs were still burning with icy fire, and you methodically took deep breaths in and out. As you tried to warm your insides, you finally spotted a silhouette in the darkness of the training field, each exhalation drawing in a cloud of vapor.

"Well," Kyle exhaled grinning and sniffing his red nose. "Happy New Year."

You grinned back rubbing your chapped palms trying desperately to keep them warm. He slipped the warm jacket over your shoulders, and you made your way down from the training ground to the lower level of the cliff heading toward the entrance of the house. You cast a glance back over your shoulder. "Vito managed to get in on time, didn't he?"

"He got in by before twelve at night, don't worry," Kyle assured you softly.

Walking through the shroud of snow that was falling in prickly flakes straight onto your face, you had already entered the house soon and found yourself on the basement floor, right by the door to the workroom. "Got a present," he cast a cheerful but tired look of his green eyes at you. "Megumi's awake."

You didn't even notice how your eyes widened with delight, and you were tempted to say something, but all you did was open and close your mouth.

"That was the good news," Kyle said, and his voice grew a half tone darker. "The bad news is that we've been contacted by higher-ups for a couple hours, calling ya on the carpet."

The elation was replaced by a sense of irritation and annoyance. "What, right now?"

"They've made it clear they don't intend to wait," Kyle said with a shrug.

You knew there was no point in taking your own frustration out on the man in front of you, so you only exhaled trying to catch your breath. "I'll just take a shower, change my clothes, and go over to Megumi's. Ya go to bed."

"Ya know I can come with you, right?" said Kyle with hope in his voice trying to catch your gaze.

You shook your head slowly, carefully avoiding his eyes. "Ya can't. Good night," without waiting for his reply, you walked into the workroom slamming the door in his face.

***

The pleasant feeling of clean, fresh clothes on a clean body. You would have spent a little more time picking out a sweatshirt made up of softer fabric, but the message Kyle had told you made you hide your desires in a distant drawer.

You walked up the metal staircase a little too slowly as if you were deliberately stretching time. Once you were in the hallway, the dim light coming from the kitchen caught your eye. Perhaps Megumi's awakening had excite some of the inhabitants of the house making them forget their sleep.

Peeking out from around the corner, you saw a familiar white mop of hair. Your chest felt the unnaturalness of the moment. Shouldn't he be at Megumi's right now? Throwing another glance at him, you saw him once again check the time on his phone. "Hey."

He flinched and cocked his head as if he wasn't used to being approached discreetly. "Hey," carefully hiding the concern in his eyes, he assessed your condition. The moment his gaze tried to catch yours, he noticed you looking perplexedly at the table. Apparently, you noticed that the carefully left years of indelible drink marks and small chips from contact with the utensils had disappeared. "I bought a new table."

You bit your lip trying not to laugh. "Do ya always have such drastic methods?"

He just nodded, not sure what else to say. You didn't look hurt, or upset, or angry. It was as if you didn't care. Since when did he care about the indifference of someone he barely knew?

"First of all, you should at least apologize to her."

It was a lot easier for him to exile a dozen curses than it was to squeeze out a word of apology. Was it worth it if you didn't care?

However, sometimes your behavior caused him inner dissonance obscuring and confusing his muddled thoughts with unknown outlines of hope. "Why ya sitting here alone?" you asked with concern in your voice. "I thought I'd find ya at Megumi's since he's awake."

So you were looking for him? Most likely you just didn't put it the right way. "Well, first he was surrounded by my students, then your students, and then all of them together. After that, he was left alone with... Danielle. I think that's her name. There wasn't much time for me."

You didn't pry into his soul asking why he didn't just join the others. You had an alternative. You walked past him to the door of the infirmary. Stopping beside it, you took another glance at the sorcerer stepping from foot to foot. "Do ya wanna go see him now with me?"

He rose from his chair and headed in your direction shortening the distance between you with each step. "Yeah."

Suddenly you got a sharp blow to the head. A low hiss escaped your lips; grabbing your forehead and rubbing the sore spot, you glanced at the spot where the blow had come from and realized that someone had opened the infirmary door abruptly. Two identical heads showed themselves. "Y/N?" the twins shrieked your name in panic.

"Yeah, it's me," you said with a warning tone in every word. "Ya both," taking turns pulling the twins out from behind the door, you wrapped your arms around their shoulders. "Why are ya up at this hour?" your cooing voice didn't bode well.

One of the twins nodded toward the open door and muttered in a conspiratorial tone. "There's SO MUCH going on in there!"

You barely fought the urge to roll your eyes and turned to Gojo. "Okay, okay. These are my students. This is Axel," you pinched one of the dark-haired boys hard on the ear to which he grumbled unhappily. "This is Ryan," you pinched the other one as well. Еhe second boy looked like a dark copy of the first - his eyebrow adorned with a small oblique scar, and he was covered in piercings and tattoos which you had already managed to heap reproach on him for having gotten them without adult knowledge and in an obscure underground. "Axel, Ryan, this is Gojo Satoru."

One of the twins turned his head slightly toward the other. "Do ya think the hair color is real?"

"Yeah the hair color is real, but the eyes," Ryan spoke in a whisper as if Gojo wasn't literally standing in front of him. "Definitely contact lenses."

You let out an involuntary gasp of indignation. Grabbing both of them by the scruff of their necks, you gently nudged them towards the stairs leading to the second floor then turned back to Gojo. "I'm sorry; they can be very tactless sometimes."

"I don't even know from whom did they take such a behavior," Gojo laughed motioning in your direction. "You called my higher-up a fossil as I recall," the smile instantly vanished from his face when he noticed the slightly reddened skin on your forehead. He tried to reach out a hand intending to inspect the site of the blow, but immediately yanked it away. "Are you okay?"

"I've had worse," you grinned softly looking him in the eye. After a couple of seconds when you realized your eye contact had lingered, you perked up and headed for the infirmary. "Let's go."

***

Standing outside Megumi's infirmary room, you peered cautiously through the open doorway. The sight before you made you bite your lip to keep from grinning like a lunatic. Now you could see what the twins were talking about. The whole room was littered with different bouquets, scattered wrappers, and a pile of brightly colored cards on the table. Probably if it wasn't for Megumi's diet, there would have been pizza boxes. At the head of all this beauty, Megumi, whose skin was finally starting to get some color, was lying on the couch, and Danielle was sitting beside him pulling a chair closer to the bed. They were talking quietly about something, and every time Danielle's lips moved, the boy's face would turn a faint shade of pink or he would awkwardly fiddled with his fingers. From the outside it was noticeable how much of his newfound energy he was spending not looking in her direction.

You raised your head to look back at the tall and equally peering silhouette. "How would ya feel about disturbing their idyll?" receiving Gojo's affirmative nod, you entered the chamber, and moving two chairs closer to the couch, you unceremoniously sat down on one of them. Gojo sat down next to you. "Look at ya, two lovebirds."

Danielle averted her confused gaze pretending to look at the damn interesting view out the window. Megumi, on the other hand, was staring right at you. The corners of his lips trembled, and he bestowed you with a fleeting smile. "Hey, Y/N."

Gojo furrowed his brows, folded his arms across his chest and pouted his lips childishly. "You'd kill me for that."

The two of them needed to talk. Just talk. Even if it didn't solve anything, even if they didn't dare to say something important to each other, but now there was something more important - tomorrow would inevitably come for them again and again from now on, each time giving them a chance to make things right. Their only task was not to squander all the opportunities they had been given.

That's why you brought Gojo here - just to leave them alone. You glanced at Danielle and after waiting for her to finally look at you, you pointed toward the door with a slight nod. You rose from your seats at the same time causing the sorcerer, who was under the intense gaze of dark blue eyes, to throw his head up in panic. "Traitor!" he only managed to shout back at you.

Despite Gojo's typical demeanor - nonchalant and even a little light-hearted - Megumi sensing the growing tension assumed a sitting position and tucked his legs under him as if trying to shrink in size.

"I wasn't actually going to eat you, you're not as sweet as you think you are," with that phrase Gojo intended to light the mood a bit, but only seemed to alienate Megumi more. Gojo had to wipe the nonchalance from his face for a second. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Megumi said peering at the creases in the white sheets. He'd never been known for being talkative, but the cold tone of his voice sent shivers down the back of the Gojo's neck. The next question made his heart sink. "You weren't going to save me, were you?"

He was, but how could he explain to the kid opposite him that things hadn't gone the way Gojo wanted them to? He couldn't squeeze out an explanation that he would probably have the strength to destroy the curse, but only at the cost of Megumi's life. The words stuck a sharp bone in his throat. "Look, it's not that easy-"

"Were you going to or not?" persisted Megumi interrupted him. The boy had no desire to hear excuses.

Gojo involuntarily clenched his fists so hard that veins showed on the backside of his palms. "No."

"Fair enough," Megumi said with a shrug. The stiffness subsided, kid's body seeming to relax. Expecting a decidedly different reaction, Gojo was confused.

It seemed all that they were needed now was to smooth out the sharp edges hurting themselves a couple times in the process, but slowly and methodically getting rid of them nonetheless. "I know I wasn't the best mentor. More than that, I've been the worst caregiver. Truth be told, there are some things you'll probably hate me even more after finding out about, but one way or another, if you and I never part ways, I'll... I'll try to be a better person."

"Our ways will part? With you? You stick to everyone like chewed gum," the boy said, and for what seemed like the first time in the Gojo's memory, Megumi weakly smiled at him for the first time.

***

You've never really liked hospitals. A regular hospital and your infirmary weren't much different: the same rooms, beds, IVs, injections, beeping cardiomonitors, the smell of medicine and disinfectant solutions. But doc's was cozier. It smelled less like death.

As you sat with Danielle on the mobile couch in the hallway, you tried to restrain yourself from starting to tease her about matters of the heart. The blonde-haired girl got flustered then smiled shyly biting her lips, apparently remembering her quiet conversations with her new friend, occasionally giggling quietly to herself. Looking at her young unencumbered by experience face, your ribcage filled with affection. You had once long ago wanted to experience something like that. Now you hoped cowardly that she'd never ask you for love advice in the future because you didn't know what to do with it yourself.

As your gazes crossed again, a door slammed somewhere at the end of the infirmary corridor, and you heard heavy footsteps approaching. The hair on the back of your neck stirred, and you jumped up from your bunk at Danielle's understanding glance making a quick dash out of the infirmary. Except the hand that grabbed your shoulder was quicker. "Hold on, girl," if the doc's footsteps made you nervous, the tone of his icy voice made you feel truly terrified. "There's my next patient."

Overcome with stiffness, you slowly turned around and giggled nervously looking into his eyes. "Hey, doc," you tried to pull your shoulder back a little to shake off the heavy hand that was clinging with a dead grip. "Ya know, I got paged by the higher-ups, so-"

"They'll wait," without removing his hand from your shoulder, he led you to a vacant room. "Post-raid physicals are mandatory."

You glanced over your shoulder at Danielle, your eyes signaling for help. She shrugged and waved back with an unconcealed look of satisfaction on her face.

Doc released you from his grip only when you finally stepped into a vacant room, and he slammed the door behind you. Unlike your workroom, Doc's was always sterile. Medical flasks stood neatly in cabinets; new syringe needles packed and stacked in special containers, clean fresh linens on the bunk, not a speck of dust on the floor. You walked forward leading your hand over the clean smooth metal surfaces feeling your back being glared at. "Lie down on the bunk, take your top off."

"Pervert," you wrinkled your nose with feigned displeasure, but you walked to the bed and took off your sweatshirt and assumed a lying position. "Ya're not going to implant those things in me again, are ya?"

"It's a mandatory procedure," doc mouthed. Before you knew it, he was attaching devices less than five inches in diameter to your temples.

"Ouch!" you exclaimed with a sudden short burst of dull pain as he was already fastening the neurates near your heart, on your lower back and on your ankles with practiced deft movements. "That's hurt!"

"Don't exaggerate and stop squirming."

You froze. After only a couple of seconds, a growing discomfort began to appear where the neurates were attached. As they began to penetrate their sensors deeper and deeper under your skin, doc's screen showed more and more readings of your condition as he looked at it over square glasses. His dark skin shimmered a thick silver in the cold light of the fluorescent lights, contrasting beautifully with the doctor's white lab coat, his hands clutching your medical records.

You closed your eyes and concentrated on your breathing trying to chase away the dark thoughts of the upcoming conversation. You didn't want to listen to any lectures. You didn't want to feel anyone's concern, much less pity. Your only desire was to lie on the soft sheets for a while longer even if the sound of the broken flickering lamp irritated your hearing.

The doctor tossed aside the medical records and grasped the edge of the table with his hands. "Your vitals are deteriorating exponentially. You're only hanging on by your regeneration. But pretty soon your body will be so depleted that it will stop helping, too."

You opened your eyes a little throwing a fleeting glance at the monitor screen. "I'm fine."

"Yeah? Maybe you sleep just as well?" turning around to face you so he could better see the lies oozing out of you, doc leaned back against the desk. "When was the last time you slept and how much?"

"Before the raid, a couple hours," not a single muscle on your face flinched without betraying your deception, only the doc had your vitals besides your words. He trusted it more.

"Your neural connections have begun to break down," he informed, expecting you to react in any way. You rose slowly assuming a sitting position gently kneading your shoulders. It was almost as if you didn't care. "Ya know, at best you're in danger of severe headaches, hallucinations, mental breakdowns, partial or total memory loss. At worst, death."

Fumbling for the devices in your temples, you began to rip out the neurates staining the bed with blood in the process. "Unfortunately, death wasn't part of my plans."

"Are ya crazy?" growled Doc grabbing a pack of band-aids off the shelf and sitting down next to you. "I should be doing this!"

"I know, I know. I just couldn't take it anymore," you grinned looking into his amber eyes as he focused on the band-aid on your temple.

You could see him bite the inside of his cheeks. Doc could pretend all he wanted to be a heartless man who was just doing his job. But doctors often had to sacrifice their feelings shoving them to the very depths of their souls just to keep from going insane. "I don't know how to help you anymore. My energy isn't regenerating you. My regeneration and replication spells aren't helping you. Sleeping pills, sedatives, neuroleptics. Even had your bone marrow taken for evaluation," you cringed remembering the pain of that huge needle in your pelvic bone, so neither local nor general anesthesia worked on you. "And I never came up with anything."

"Ethan, I already told ya," you shoved his shoulder softly. "I'm not gonna die in the next fifty years. I really want to live."

"Then you should sleep," Doc said, though he realized that was the worst advice, like telling a deeply depressed person "don't be sad." He felt worthless.

"You're a great doctor, ya know," you seemed to read his mind. "No one but ya would have messed with me for so long. One day we are gonna figure out these adrenaline rushes when I fall asleep, and then we'll go celebrate your status as the best doctor in the universe."

"Whatever you say," he said getting up from the couch. "But your job is to see me as often as you can. I have other patients to see. And you try to get some rest."

Quickly pulling your sweater back on, you straightened up sharply remembering something. "Doc!" you exclaimed as he was already holding onto the doorknob. "And how are the... how are the patients who are, ya know... pirates?" you inquired tapping lightly under your left eye.

"Almost restored. You know it takes the lion's share of time to replicate and restore sensory organs," and seeing your theatrical nod, he finally opened the door behind which the white-haired sorcerer had been standing for an unknown amount of time. After looking him over from head to toe, Doc forced him aside with his imposing figure. "However."

Gojo leaned against the doorway watching you change the band-aids on your temples, which were already flimsy, into new ones. Then he took a glance at the white sheet, which was stained with burgundy liquid. He lost his patience when you stuck the band-aid crookedly to your temple for the second time, apparently because you didn't have a mirror in front of you. He walked over to the metal table, and with a tearing sound opened a new one holding out his hand to you. "Let me?"

You nodded briefly and tilted your head a little sideways to give him more access. The warm skin of his fingertips made contact with yours through the thin material causing you to cough nervously. "Did ya two talk?"

"A little," he replied lightly brushing the strands away from your other temple and doing the same manipulation. "You hurt or something?" you felt like he asked it just for the sake of cleverly jumping off the subject. He felt like he was having his soul torn apart by worry.

"Nah," you said running your fingers over the evenly applied band-aids. "Thanks for help," you smiled, your eyes colored by an affectionate squint. After talking to Megumi, it was noticeable that it was as if one of the many weights had been lifted from his soul.

It seems he just wanted to take another weight off his chest. Right on your head. "You know, me and Mei-Mei, it's nothing like that. Just... Just helping each other out sometimes."

You hummed involuntarily, glancing in his direction with confusion. "Why ya making excuses?"

"Dunno," a mocking smirk escaped his lips. He was probably back to his usual lighthearted credo. "Just glad you didn't whine about it. Because at first glance you seemed, well..., " he gave you a glance of blue eyes that for once made you feel out of place. "A prude."

The last word he said made you furrow your brows in confusion. You didn't know why, but you tried to search your memory for the prison term given for killing a man. "Excuse me?"

He didn't answer right away. Pondered whether he should have bitten his tongue off right now or left himself the option of apologizing in the future. "Uh, I didn't mean it that way."

As hard as you could to hide your growing irritation, you exhaled. You exhaled and were about to leave the room because you wanted to get things done rather than listen to the insults. "Honestly, I'd talk some more," you grinned softly wrapping your arms around your waist for a moment. "But right now, I don't wanna waste time with someone who's going to make a hundred excuses instead of saying sorry," you waved him goodbye briefly, and maybe his words would have hurt you if only your head wasn't full of meetings with your higher-ups.

As you stepped along the stony road, which was already partially overgrown with grass, you quickened your step with each wide step you took wanting to get it all over with as soon as possible, the wind itself at your back. In the distance, among the darkness of the trees, you could see tall stone structures, the core of which served as lanterns.

The rustling of leaves was hushed, breathing quickened. On the horizon, you could see the doors already open creating a picture of false hospitality.

You walked into the room and stopped in front of a large table on a small platform. It's a great way to show everyone who comes in their place.

No one paid any attention to you. The man sitting in the center continued to fill out some paperwork. His long black hair was in a tight braid, and even the strands that had fallen out and fallen into his face seemed to be in place. Beneath his thin-rimmed glasses was a perpetually disgruntled squint of his eyes. At his right hand sat another man, with golden hair and a far too kindly look for such a place. The other three chairs were empty.

"Where are the other snakes?" you asked not wanting to wait to be looked at.

The black-haired man finally looked up at you with a hard stare. "Watch your mouth."

"But it worked, though. Ya're finally paying attention to me, Chris," you drawled tucking your hands behind your back.

"Stop twisting names," he tossed the pen away and leaned back in his chair. "Now I expect you not to play dumb and explain the presence of strangers in the house."

"Who told ya?" you gritted your teeth in a frighteningly aggressive way, but when you realized you were losing control, you put a friendly expression back on your face. "We're sheltering coworkers in a difficult situation; I don't see anything wrong with that. Don't tell me it still bothers ya that your great-great-great- Long story short, that your distant relatives were wronged by a separate caste of sorcerers. That's so immature of ya."

The man grinned revealing a nasty grin. "You've decided to drag the others down with you? Isn't the mountain of corpses you're already standing on not enough?"

The veil of your eyes was abruptly blanketed by maddening lights. "The higher the mountain of corpses, the wider my view," you snapped at his arrogant expression. "But ya know, if you cause any of them to lose a hair, I'll rip your hearts out."

Christian leaned in your direction as if you were fighting for the title of most insane creature. "You've just given us a great idea because with our death at your hands we'll be only too happy to show everyone your true colors."

A dagger unconsciously appeared in your hand, you were already barely aware of your actions. "Ya fucking scum-"

You were forced to come to your senses by the golden-haired man who slammed his palm sharply against the wooden table. "Enough!" the sound it made made you come to your senses and you quickly suppressed the flash of rage in your chest, a convulsive exhale escaping your lips. "Y/N, that's not why we called you here. We're not going to interfere with what's going on in your house."

"Then what do ya want?"

Christian tossed the folder carelessly on the edge of the table, closer to you. You didn't even bother to pick it up. "Inmates are going missing in the Abashiri prison colony. Maybe it's just a trick by the wardens, maybe not. Either way, check it out."

"Even if they are dioreacts, ya know we only destroy them in the void-"

"I don't care much about that," Christian interrupted in an indifferent tone. "If they are there, then you'll go to the judges with them."

"You're already making no secret of the fact that you want to get rid of me."

Christian snorted derisively gifting you with an uneasy feeling in your chest. "I've never really hidden it. I keep hoping that one day your mask won't save you."

God knows you endured as long as you could. But you couldn't take it. You couldn't take it, and you laughed. Wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes, you looked at the black-haired man once more. "Screw ya," you took a breath and straightened your back regaining your carefree look. "Alright, I'm gonna go to your prison. See ya around."

***

Long after you had passed through the doorframes and walked along the stony road, you made your way through the trees. For some time now, you'd been aware of footsteps somewhere behind you, which was tiring. Exhausted from the pursuit, you cast a glance over your shoulder, and saw a glimmer of familiar golden hair. "Nael, stop acting like a stalker and just tell me what's wrong already."

"Christian is an ungrateful idiot," said the voice following you in an apologetic tone. "But I must show my gratitude at least on my own behalf. We ran tests on that amulet you brought back from Cambodia. It does indeed deliver steady streams of energy. So all that's left is the safety tests and we'll send it to Frank in Hopetown to put it in repository. The electricity and your relics that guard the town will be fine."

"Nice," you drawled without slowing your step.

Seeing that you weren't going to stop, Nathaniel cocked his sharp chin in concern. "They're planning to get rid of you."

"I somehow thought it would be helpful If one of higher-ups would owe me," you mumbled in a monotone voice peering at the earth-filled foliage beneath your feet wrapping yourself more tightly in your jacket. "But now ya haven't said anything new."

Nathaniel covered the distance between you in two steps and blocked your path. "I'm serious. They're planning something. I can't say more at the moment, but I'll try to figure something out. Just be careful."

"As always," you said splaying your hands tiredly, and stepped around Nathaniel and hurried out of the place.

[4 Jan, 2019; 10:18pm; hunter headquarters]

The fresh, frosty air filled the workroom from the open window. Without remembering how you'd showered, you were already sitting in a chair with your head hiding on your arms. Droplets dripping from your hair and falling to the floor made a measured, quiet background noise. Every muscle ached, every bone aching, and you bit your lip in frustration glancing down at the bed you'd laid on twice that evening in an attempt to sleep.

No one knew you were home. Not a single living soul had met you. Instead of being disappointed by that, you exhaled a sigh of relief. You wanted to be alone for a while.

Still, you were heavy of heart. You took off your robe and clumsily pull on your clothes to go upstairs.

***

There were only three people sitting at the dining room table. Itadori was fiddling with the box of the board game trying to find the place where the rules were described. Shoko was drinking her second mug of coffee clearly not understanding how she'd gotten here. Gojo rested his chin on his hand and brought his face close to the doctor's and glared at her apparently forcing her to join them.

Their domestic bustle made you squint your eyes affectionately. "Are ya awake?" your ever-unfelt presence made all three of them pop their heads in your direction.

You still couldn't get used to Itadori's perpetually enthusiastic demeanor. So when he jumped up from his seat and rushed towards you clutching the box with both hands, you backed up a little. "Y/N! Where have you been?"

Quickly going through all the possible answers in your head, you pulled out the simplest and most succinct one. "Work," Gojo was clearly not satisfied with that answer. He'd been hanging around your workroom and kitchen for three days straight, or looking out the living room window ten times a day hoping to catch a glimpse of your silhouette walking into the cliff.

"Okay," chirped Itadori and lifted the game box higher resting his chin on it. "Would you like to play Monopoly with us?"

"I'm afraid if I sit down to play in this state, I'll go bankrupt after the first move," you said,pushing your chair back and sitting down on it. "But I'd love to watch."

You heard a very quiet sound, like distant and uncertain footsteps. You stirred glancing around, but they didn't seem to hear anything.

"Then you'll be rolling the dice," Shoko addressed you sipping coffee from her mug. "I don't trust that asshole."

"Hey!" Gojo's indignant exclamation made Shoko roll her eyes.

Itadori enthusiastically began laying out the board game then began counting out everyone's initial capital to the Gojo's grumbling that the pink-haired kid was cheating and had put more money in for himself than everyone else.

You heard again the faint sounds of inarticulate whispering; this time your hearing made it clear that there was a commotion outside the infirmary door.

"Okay, we need to decide who goes first," muttered Itadori looking at the lid of the box that had the rules written on it.

"What kind of stupid question is that? Me," Gojo said impatiently in his voice grabbing the dice.

Shoko instantly snatched the die from his hands. "First is the one who takes out the bigger number, so back off."

There was the sound of the same footsteps and muffled scraping on the metal door, and looking around at everyone sitting there and noticing that none of them were paying attention again, you thought you were starting to lose your mind.

You jumped up from your seat at the anxious stares and walked quickly to the door of the infirmary opening it with a jerk. The two faces before you caused you to fall into a second stupor, after which you exhaled in relief. "Ya know," you said leaning against the wall to make way for them. "All the footsteps in front of the door mean nothing if you never got in."

When there were two people in the room, there was the sound of a mug falling and immediately shattering, the jagged creak of a chair being pushed back, and someone's inarticulate stammering.

Itadori stood up from his chair and tried to take a step in their direction on trembling legs. "Nanamin?" he shifted the look of wet eyes from the blond man to the girl. "Nobara?"

Crossing her arms over her chest and looking away with a frown, Nobara didn't even think about making a move to meet him. "Have you buried me yet, dumbass?"

Overcoming the trembling in his legs, Itadori covered the distance between them in no time and enclosed them in an embrace, no longer hiding his tears. "Alive! You're alive!"

Confused by such an emotional greeting, Kento awkwardly patted the boy on the shoulder. "Decided to stick around for a while," Nanami shifted his gaze to the confused Gojo who couldn't understand why he hadn't sensed them. "Never mind," Kento said turning to him as if he'd read his mind. "Just a side effect of the treatment. It'll be back to normal soon."

Gojo immediately jumped from his seat, and under Shoko's same tired, but already widened by shock gaze, embraced all three of them, even though of the three only Itadori was happy about it.

At the sound of someone's voice calling you from the infirmary corridor, you took one last glimpse of the tender picture of the small reunion. You swallowed the indistinct lump of a long-known feeling and walked into the infirmary closing the door as quietly as you could. You didn't belong there.

***

Doc was walking toward you so fast that the oncoming air current made the white coat flutter. "Come on, let's go help calm Danielle down and get her out of here."

"What's the matter?" you asked perplexedly rushing towards him and the two of you headed towards one of the rooms.

"Oh yeah, you weren't there," Doc said looking at someone's medical records over square glasses. "Vito got out of the raid tonight on schedule. But he didn't come out quite whole."

"And how bad is it?"

"His condition is severe, but stable. He passed out as soon as he came out of the void, hasn't regained consciousness since."

Once outside one of the rooms, Doc opened the door with a jerk. Vito was there, neither dead nor alive, lying serenely on the couch. Every part of his body visible from beneath the bedspread was covered with deep cuts from which a thick green liquid flowed uncontrollably in small quantities staining the sheets. An oxygen mask covered the lower half of his face, and if it weren't for the cardiomonitor beeping nearby, you'd think he was really dead because his chest wasn't heaving. "Oh shit," you sounded so unemotional that anyone would get the impression that the toothpick had more feelings.

Next to the motionless body in the chair sat a slumped Danielle, who had probably already cried all her tears, leaving behind dried smudges under her eyes and an accompanying lifeless look.

Doc leaned toward you and said as quietly as possible. "Get her out of here. She's only in the way."

"Cold fish," you muttered quietly to yourself.

"Cheeky obstinate wench," Doc said adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"What?"

"What? I thought we were just exchanging all well-known facts," he whispered before turning around and walking away, leaving you alone.

You walked slowly around the bunk biting your lip. At first you wanted to grab a chair and sit next to her, but instead you turned the girl and the chair to face you and sat down on the floor. Danielle's head hung down like a rag doll. It was as if she wasn't even aware of your presence. Had she really been sitting here like this for almost twenty-four hours?

"Bun," you tapped your finger quietly on her leg. There was no response. "Look at me," you gently cupped your hands around her cheeks forcing her to look at you. She blinked slowly once then just as slowly blinked a second time. Her eyelashes fluttered uncontrollably, and she clutched her eyes shut with all her might and cried again sliding to the floor into your arms. "I know," you cradled her sobbing figure against you, and she nuzzled her nose into your neck. "Your father's made it out of worse than this," you grinned sadly realizing that you were such a poor comforter. "He'll come out of it. Maybe not today, not tomorrow, not in a week. But he'll wake up. When he does, it seems to me he'd like to see ya rested and happy, even if only a little."

"Take me through the isolation," Danielle pleaded in a sobbing voice pulling away from you. "I can't go on like this. I wanna go on the raid with ya."

"You can't, you're not ready yet," seeing that she wanted to interrupt you, you gently held your palm up letting her know you weren't done. "Besides, you're driven by revenge right now. Trust me, it won't lead to anything good. Don't rush things, let them take their course. You'll make fewer mistakes that way," Danielle nodded her head in defeat and snuggled into your shoulder again burrowing into your hair. "Let's go to bed, bun. Sleep on it. Now go ask doc for a sedative, okay?" she nodded weakly into your shoulder. Gently holding her by the waist, you set her on her feet.

Waiting for her to leave the room, you leaned against the doorway glancing at Vito. The cardiomonitor kept beeping, as if it were negotiating with God. "Ya'd better wake up," you said in a warning icy tone. "Don’t ya leave her behind," slamming the door behind you, you headed down the hallway after Danielle.

***

Once in the living room and standing in front of the stairs to the second floor, you said goodnight to Danielle and wiped away your tears one last time. Two pairs of eyes watched you, the owners of which were hesitant to interfere with your soft interactions. Gojo watched as you gently cupped Danielle's cheeks with your palms and, looking into her eyes, said something softly. The girl nodded quietly and staggered off to the second floor, while you stared at her. So you can be this gentle, too.

Hearing the quiet slamming of the door and making sure Danielle had gone into her room, Gojo drew your attention. "Something wrong?"

You perked up as if you hadn't noticed them before. "Nah," you said shrugging nonchalantly. "Has everyone else gone to bed already?" you shifted your gaze from Gojo to Shoko.

"He bugged everyone," Ieiri said pointing at Gojo and leaning back in her chair. She had an unlit cigarette between her lips.

You splayed your hand tiredly, pointing to the window. "At least open the window before ya smoke," Shoko nodded, and you wandered toward the basement door.

The Doctor glanced at the sorcerer, who was nervously crunching his knuckles and staring at the corridor you'd just disappeared into. "You look pathetic," she said clucking her tongue. "Just go."

He immediately took off from his seat. Quickly descending the stairs, he knocked on the door to the workroom, but only to enter unceremoniously. There was no one inside. He exhaled convulsively. Had you gone out again?

Gojo ran outside in what he was wearing - a thin gray sweatshirt, black sweatpants, and bare feet. The damp winter wind knocked his breath out for a second messing his white strands into wet ones. As he discerned your silhouette sitting on the bluff just ahead in the lowermost tier of the cliff that rested against the ribbed stone with his shoulder, he walked back into the house in a hurry, but only to slip his shoes on his feet and grab his jacket.

With the sound of restless waves and sea ice crashing against the rocks, he approached you from the back as softly as possible gently slipping his jacket over your shoulders, and sat down next to you. You could smell the odors of burnt wood, peppermint and something sweet mingling with the smell of winter.

Even though you hid it, the dark circles and bloodshot eyes gave you away. You were terribly tired, mentally and physically exhausted.

Gojo realized he'd caught you at the exact moment you didn't want a single living soul to see you. It made him uncomfortable, but he just couldn't go and leave you here alone in the dark and cold. When he saw your hand resting on the cliff, he slowly moved his own, inch by inch toward it.

He nudged you lightly with his shoulder. "Hey," he called out to you softly. "You're gonna get cold."

You grinned assuming a straight sitting position and glimpsing the jacket you were wearing. "I see ya've already moved your stuff in, too."

He nodded smiling awkwardly. If you'd even looked at him, you'd have seen that he looked a little flustered. It seemed to have gotten through to him that he didn't want to be another burden on your shoulders, and judging by how rarely you were home, you had too many of those without him. "I'm sorry," he breathed out surprised himself that it was easier than he thought. "I'm sorry for snapping at you in the morgue. For the incident with Mei-Mei. For insulting you in the infirmary. I'm sorry and... Thanks for everything. I just hope you can forgive me and we can be, well, um... friends" at this point your pinky fingers made contact. You didn't pull your hand away.

"Apologies accepted, but no thanks. Wrong tree," you said and glanced at him with a muffled giggle. His heart skipped a beat. He wanted to take off your mask and see you smiling.

"So much for modesty," he drawled and leaned closer to your face looking playfully into your eyes. "Wanna watch cartoons?"

You nodded cheerfully. "Lead the way."

Once you were in the house, you agreed to meet in the living room because you both needed a change of clothes, damp from the snow and wind. Standing in his room, having already changed his gray sweater for a black one, he stood in front of the mirror and tried to arrange his unruly hair somehow. After another attempt, he blushed at the realization of what he was doing and hurried down to the living room.

You were already sitting in the living room, pulling on your soft pajamas and tying your wet hair into a messy ponytail. Sitting here before you hadn't noticed how cozy your couch and how nice the warm light from the dim lamp were, or how warm the room could be. You hadn't noticed it in the same way you didn't notice now how someone's hands gently covering you with a blanket. You fell into a long-forgotten restless sleep.

***

You made your way through the laughing backs throwing apologies in your wake every now and then. There were too many people in the bar making the smells of tequila and coke and whiskey more stuffy and stale.

You traversed two steps, the sides of which were missing almost all the balusters, and found yourself in a more secluded deserted little hall. Despite the large sign with the crossed-out cigarette, the room was filled with curls of scattered tobacco smoke.

Tripping over another foot and apologizing, you glanced at the green shabby steering wheel on the wall; next to it hung a huge swordfish that pointed its long, straight nose straight at the bar. Behind the bar fidgeted a thin and angular bartender with a sullen expression; between mixing and pouring drinks for customers, he grimaced and frantically polished glasses.

You finally found yourself at the shabby wooden table where Vito was sitting staring at you innocently and taking a few sips of beer. You immediately snatched the bottle out of his hands indignantly. "Ya crazy?" you hissed sitting down on a flimsy wooden stool. "What did the doc tell? No fatty, fried, floury, salty, sweet, and especially no alcohol! Why ya even here?"

Vito laughed guilelessly not attempting to take the bottle back. "Just wanted to unwind," he gave you a soft look. "I don't think I've even noticed how you've grown from a little troublemaker to a huge nerd."

"Speaking of nerdy," you said getting up from the table and heading towards the bar. Once at it, the bartender threw a frown at you as he continued to rub his glass. "Water, please. And grape juice."

Without a word, the bartender pulled a bottle of water and a juice box from under the bar in one motion, and filled the glasses with ice pouring the drinks into them in a couple of seconds. "Thank ya," you said taking the cold glasses giving the bartender one last wink. "I see ya!" you said in a warning tone when you noticed him reaching for the beer bottle. "And here's your alcohol for the next six months," you placed the glass of water in front of his nose with a victorious look. He accompanied your figure with a sour expression.

"Life just got a lot more boring for some reason," Vito sighed theatrically taking a sip of water. He looked at you, then at your glass and grinned covering his lips with the back of his hand. "You remember when you were a kid at Christmas whining to Frank about giving you a wine glass?" he asked propping his head up with his hand. "You hopped grape juice out of it all day, and after drinking about three boxes you pretended to be dead drunk all evening?"

"Don't ya dare even start."

Taking another sip of water, he tried with all his might not to laugh, lest that water end up on your face. "And the next day you kept everyone awake all morning demanding that they give you a 'hair of the dog'," he laughed, and you brought the ice-cold glass of juice to your face trying to cool your burning face. After sitting like that for a couple minutes, you finally brought the glass to your lips, wanting to moisten your parched throat. Vito looked up at you. "You won't take off your mask even now?"

You ran your fingers lightly over the matter on your face, provoking it to pop in small stirrings. "It's kinda hologram, though. It doesn't interfere."

Vito nodded understandingly. "How's Danielle doing?"

"She's fine. Still can't get over the state you came out of the raid. She's worried and scared."

Only Vito opened his mouth to say something, but he was immediately interrupted by a woman's voice. "Bun?"

Your heartbeat instantly sped up, now and then getting out of rhythm. Your body stiffened. Turning your head with difficulty, your eyes widened in shock. "Mom?" you didn't recognize your own voice, weakened and hoarse. You coughed quickly getting up from your seat. "What ya doing here?"

Her arms hugged you tightly. "Vito told me you'd be here. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I can't stay here for long. I have so much to do. But I really wanted to get one glimpse of what you've grown up to be," she whispered softly, kissing your face. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm okay, mom," you forced out words in a broken voice as she wiped your wet cheeks with her warm thumbs. "It's okay."

"We'll stay here a little longer next time. I promise," she said looking into your eyes. "I have to go, bun. I love you," she whispered giving you one last kiss on your forehead and hurried to the front door.

"I love you, too," you mouthed it watching as her silhouette disappeared behind the door.

You sat down slowly in your chair keeping your gaze fixed on the entrance. Vito was tactful enough not to say anything about your condition. It was the first time he'd ever seen tears rolling from your eyes, though. He awkwardly drained his water glass. "Y/N, I'm gonna go too. Gotta stick to the regimen or the doc will sew me to my bunk."

"Huh?" you popped your head up looking at him, but it was clear from the look in your eyes that you weren't here right now. "Yeah, sure. I'll see ya around."

As you tried to finish your glass of juice, the conversations began to die down. The smell of tequila began to fade, and there were fewer dirty jokes.

The bartender continued to rub glasses to a shine just as zealously, glaring at you with a frown when you were all alone in that bar at the corner.

next ⊳

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capricorn-writer-kawaii · 9 months

Text

Hi, there! 🥰

I'm really, really, really excited to announce you that I'm currently working with my beloved and talented friend @merrymonkey on an illustrated fanfic of Aizawa, starting from his U.A. days and moving into the present when he's the homeroom teacher of class 1A.

This is gonna be kind of long, we hope you enjoy the ride. 💖

Our Hero Academy

Chapter 1

Pairing: Shota Aizawa x female OC

Genre: Shota Aizawa X female OC fluff, angst, high school romance, friends to lovers

Words: 2k

Summary: 15 years ago, Eraser Head was starting his hero studies with his best friends Hizashi and Oboro. Contrary to what people think, his teenage years in the U.A. were bright and lovely, filled with the laughter of his best friends and his girlfriend's unconditional love. What happened over the years? What changed him into a gloomy sensei?

Extra note: You can totally picture Y/N in the OC female name, it's just that it'd be cute to read Aizawa calling her pet names. 🤍

Chapter 1 - Welcome to the U.A.

On the first day of school, the UA’s enormous doors opened earlier than usual. Some teachers, the kindest ones, had come out to welcome the new students. Some of them already knew each other, having grown up in the same neighborhood and lucky enough to be in the same high school class. Such was the case with Hizashi Yamada, Oboro Shirakumo, and Shouta Aizawa.

While the first two talked quite loudly, drawing the attention of anyone who passed by, the last one was not only almost asleep but also remarkably quiet, he looked like a calm boy, someone who didn't look for trouble.

Starting with Hizashi, he was a tall and slim boy with blond hair, which he wore spiked upwards. His eyes were covered with some pretty cool sunglasses, and it was very common to see him with a large smile on his face. Hizashi had an eccentric personality, almost like a radio host. He even often posed when he talked and maintained a certain level of excitement or volume, regardless of the situation. Though he tended to be a jovial individual, Hizashi was capable of great rage, but that wasn't really common to occur, for he was the typical extroverted and popular guy.

Meanwhile, Oboro's light blue wavy hair was his charm, as well as his adorable and bright personality. He usually wore an expression of excitement. Very prone to making jokes and witty comments with innuendos, his energetic and goofy personality was similar to that of Hizashi, although Oboro never quite reached his friend's excitement. Due to his extravagant behavior, he was not the type of person who followed protocol and had little sense of shame, hence just as he was walking with his friends, he closed his uniform shirt as if he were in his room.

Finally, behind came the third of them, Shouta Aizawa. He was a slender and tall, tanned-skinned boy with messy, shoulder-length black hair, that partially hung in front of his face and half-opened black eyes. His worn-out appearance made him often look fatigued, especially because of his tired eyes. He was a very stern and reserved person; actually, he often came off as cold and apathetic, someone who preferred to take naps in every possible place over any other activity. Although quiet, the young hero student was very vocal and bold when expressing his ideas, which lead him to only had two friends. Despite his apathetic traits, he genuinely cared about his friends and was willing to do anything for them. In fact, he had already done it, he had already gotten into more than one problem because of Hizashi and Oboro. Shouta often grinned and even made jokes about his friends' eccentric personalities. Although it was more common to see him serious or rather shy.

While Hizashi spoke, or rather, he shouted expressing his immense emotion, Oboro adjusted his uniform. To tell the truth, it seemed that he was getting dressed, because now he was buttoning up his shirt.

“Do you really have to do that while we walk among so many people?” Aizawa asked.

“I didn't have time to get dressed. If you hadn't held us up for wanting to rescue that cat, I'd have been able to do it, so now you suck it up." He said with a mischievous smile as he tried to find his belt inside his backpack.

“Do you think they assign us the same section? I want us to be classmates again." Hizashi commented when they were already walking through the main gates.

Aizawa listened to Oboro's answer until something else completely stole his attention. Sitting on a bench next to a window, a girl was waiting for the doors of the academy's auditorium to open so that the professors could give them the welcome speech.

He was not the type of individual who paid special attention to admiring another person's beauty, he had had beautiful classmates at high school, and he had even seen some very pretty girls entering the academy, however, none of them had got to awake something on him, as it had happened to Oboro and Hizashi and their numerous dates.

Yet, that girl just a few steps away had taken his breath away. Aizawa cut the conversation with his friends because, for a few seconds, he couldn't do anything else but admire that short girl with long, wavy pastel pink hair tied in a braid. She had been nervously playing with a pink hair tie while waiting to enter the auditorium. Suddenly, a gust of wind made her look at the branches of a tree through the window, allowing Aizawa to see a bit more of her face.

Possibly due to Aizawa's piercing stare, she realized someone was looking at her, and turning around, she discovered him. Her lovely and expressive green eyes were now fixed on the young man's black eyes. His usual tired gaze switched to a wide-eye one by noticing an undeniable sparkle in the girl's look. Such interaction struck Aizawa to the core; it was so overwhelming, that he was about to break that eye contact. Luckily, he did not do it and did not miss the kind but shy and fleeting smile that the girl gave him. Shota couldn't smile back not because he didn't want to, but because he simply couldn't, he just froze. Naturally, when the girl saw that the guy didn't even react back, she looked away from him and had to force herself to think of something else; otherwise, the auto cringe would have made her leave the place.

"You okay, bro? Are you that nervous? Your face's red." Oboro said looking at his friend, but Aizawa just shook his head.

"Let's go in, the doors are already open." Aizawa replied without forgetting the girl's smile.

He wasn't the typical guy who got a lot of smiles or kind looks, perhaps because his eyes were usually on the ground, or because his gaze was a tired one, not precisely a cordial one. Whatever the reason, it was not common for him to receive such a kind facial expression like that. All his life he was used to Hizashi and Oboro turning out to be the ones who stole peeks and received compliments. To tell the truth, Aizawa had never minded that since social interactions were not his thing at all.

Yet, he did not have time to think more about it, the professor who welcomed them had already started with his talk. He explained to the students how the academy worked and how they would be assigned to a class. That was how that day, once again fate wanted Aizawa, Oboro, and Hizashi to be together in the same class. Though that was not the only surprise. When they entered the room, Aizawa saw the girl again; apparently, the four of them would study together from now on.

That was how they spent the first days at the UA. The professional heroes didn't give them a break, it was training after training, in addition to master classes, of course. Knowing and trusting each one's quick was a must to survive the UA classes; therefore, Aizawa was definitely not having a good time. Meanwhile, Hizashi and Oboro not only controlled theirs better, but they also felt comfortable with their powers and were confident that they would become excellent heroes. However, the shy young man constantly doubted his ability, and when possible, he trained alone so as not to slow anyone down. But that changed the second week when one of the teachers asked them to pair up for the next lesson in one of the many training camps.

"Okay, this is it! I'll ask Hoshino to work with me!" Oboro said, adjusting his uniform and referring to the pink-haired girl, who turned out to be very quiet and introverted. Even though she had all her classmates drooling over her from the first day, she was always alone and studying in her spare time in the library.

"Don't even dream about it, Oboro, I'll ask her," Hizashi replied. "You are very noisy, she won't want to be your partner."

“What the fuck, Hizashi!? You scream instead of talking! Besides, you'll scare her, you're too aggressive."

"I'm not aggressive!"

"And you're not very bright either, why would the best of the class want to work with you?"

Aizawa, for his part, chuckled upon hearing his friends and continued tying his shoelaces. In the meantime, Hizashi and Oboro were so focused on arguing among themselves that they didn't realize when the girl approached where they were.

Thus, she touched the least expected person's shoulder and spoke. “Hi... Hum, excuse me, would you mind if we worked together? I've seen your quirk and I think we could make a good team.” As determined as she was to train with him, there was a hint of shyness in her voice.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Oboro and Hizashi asked looking at how she had chosen Aizawa as her partner.

Although the two outgoing boys had come to her since day one to introduce themselves, Aizawa hadn't said a word, preferring to stay behind. So, her proposal was quite unexpected for everyone, especially for Aizawa, who looked at her as if hoping that she would realize that she was speaking to HIM and not to his friends.

"I see... you already have a partner, I'm sorry." Wishing that the earth would swallow her, the girl was about to disappear, she didn't do it only because Oboro was faster and prevented her.

"No, he doesn't have one! It's just that Aizawa's very shy." Oboro replied as Hizashi practically pushed his friend to his feet.

“Did you hear that, Shota? You'll be able to work with the best of the class!” The blonde said.

"Are you sure you want to work with me?"

"Come on, Shota, don't be so humble, your quirk's awesome!" Hizashi said pushing him to such an extent that the young black-haired man almost lost his balance.

That was how Aizawa and the girl ended up teaming up together. The mission they had been given to train was to enter the forest that surrounded the UA and find a hidden bomb as quickly as possible. For that, they would have the whole class, for the terrain was huge.

All the way Aizawa was wondering the same thing. "Why does she want to work with me?" The girl had passed the entrance exam with the highest score, and despite only taking two weeks of classes, all her teachers had already recognized her as the best of her generation.

“So, you erase quirks with your gaze…" The girl said, interrupting Aizawa's analysis. "That's so cool! You have one of the best powers I've ever seen.”

“The effect lasts until I blink. It's not very useful."

"Have you tried using eye drops? That way your eyes will be moisturized, and you can train them for a longer use of your quirk. Maybe they'll be a little dry, but at least they won't hurt afterward."

Aizawa remained silent, contemplating the option that the girl gave him; truth be told, she made a lot of sense. After some minutes of walking in silence, the boy talked. “What about your quirk? Can you manipulate any kind of energy? If so, you have unlimited potential."

"It's not that easy." She responded by shaking her head. “When I transform energy, I use my own. The more energy I manipulate, the less I have left to fight. Also, it's not unlimited, quite the opposite. If I intend to control some type of energy, I first must know it thoroughly, know how it works, and what risks can come."

"That's why she studies so much..." Aizawa thought.

“If I don't know the type of energy, or if I convert more than what my body resists, things don't end well. It's happened a couple of times and it hasn't been nice." She confessed somewhat embarrassed. "That's why I think we could make a good team, you could give me a hand if things get messy."

"You barely know me, are you going to trust me that much?"

"I saw how you helped your friend when we floated higher than expected."

The girl giggled remembering how during one of the first practices, Oboro used one of his clouds to float. He was just bragging; yet, thanks to the wind, the cloud flew higher and quicker. It was Aizawa who controlled the situation by erasing his quirk and helping him get back to earth.

"Oh, you saw that..." He whispered just about to laugh. Not even Shota could deny how funny it was to see Oboro fall over Hizashi.

"How not to? Your other friend, the blond one, kept yelling at the cloud guy to get off of him."

"Yeah, that's kind of common when it comes to Hizashi and Oboro."

"Well, we'd better hurry if we want to find that bomb first."

The dynamic between the two students turned out to be quite good, not only did they complete the mission successfully, but they also had time to get to know each other a little better, because by finishing before all the other groups, they had almost an hour free. Thus, sitting on some rocks on the banks of a river, Shota discovered that her family lived in the countryside and that to pursue her dream of becoming a hero, she had moved to the city alone. The academy had dormitories for students with similar situations, so she had no problem finding a place to live. That short interaction was enough for Aizawa to judge her as a nice and extremely sweet girl.

Without knowing how or why, she quickly felt comfortable with Aizawa, so much so that she made a couple of jokes and even imitated him. Apparently, in that week the young heroine had analyzed him enough to discover several of his habits.

“You have a lot of free time in class.” The boy commented unable to avoid laughing just a little when he saw her imitating the way he yawned.

“The first week has been calmer than I imagined.”

“That's because you're talented. I barely approved the physical performance exams.”

Once again, the girl started to play with her hair tie, anyone could tell she was struggling to decide if saying what she was thinking or remaining silent. In the end, she mustered some courage and dared to say it. “We could train together in the afternoons.”

Aizawa raised his gaze and looked at her as if looking for any sign that he had listened wrong. “YOU are going to train with me? You, the number one in the class?”

“I also need to train, and I think we could complement ourselves. I mean... our quirks." She corrected herself while blushing.

Aizawa was the first classmate she actively approached and, to tell the truth, it had been hard for her to summon up the courage to speak to him. Judging by his actions during those two weeks of classes, it was highly possible that he would say no. After all, Shota hardly talked with his two friends, why would he say yes to training with her?

"I mean, it's just an idea. But if you already train with someone else, that's fine." She said feeling how her face was turning even more red.

Noticing that he was making her feel uncomfortable, Aizawa reacted. “It's not what you're thinking. Honestly, I didn't expect you to want to team up with me. You caught me off guard."

Understanding that it wasn't that he was rejecting her, but that this was all very unexpected for him, she felt less embarrassed. “I'm not very good at making friends and many of our classmates already knew each other. Besides…. You seem like a very trustworthy person and your quirk is wonderful. I'm sorry, I think I already told you this a dozen times.” She said between a shy giggling.

The black-haired hero looked at her for a few moments. "She's really cute. No wonder why Hizashi and Oboro say it all the time."

"Well, I don't want to put you on the spot. If one day you have some free time, we could train together, Aizawa.” She said getting up, it was time to meet up with the rest of the class.

"Shota, call me Shota."

“My name's Kaori. Thanks for working with me today, Shota.” She responded with a sweet smile.

Next chapter

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ventiaoo · 2 years

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HIIII....!!! Can I request Izumi being a total simp to FemS/o but he complete denies it. Thank uuuuuuu

You Are Such A Simp

Characters: Izumi Sena, Arashi Narukami, Leo Tsukinaga, Ritsu Sakuma and Tsukasa Suo.

(Warning): Izumi being a simp.

Whehehe I really love this idea, Izumi being such a simp then denying it because of how prideful he is. Anyway- sorry this took very long, school is stressing me out. College is right on the corner ya'know but yeah, Hope u enjoy this anon <33

The music within the practice room eventually stopped, as Leo clapped both his hands together, "Well done my gallant knights..!!" He exclaimed, grinning broadly.

Arashi perked her head to the side, a gleam of curiosity filling her eyes as she approached wee bit closer to Izumi who is apparently distracted by his phone, too preoccupied typing away on his phone, messaging who knows what, but Arashi had an impression of who this person might be.

"Who are you texting Izumi-chan?" The lady query whilst handling a cold bottle to the model

The aforementioned model gladly accepted the bottle but his eyes remain fixed on the phone within his grasp "I'm texting [N/N]-chan, making sure she won't do anything stupid that may possibly injure her, that idiot girl can be super reckless. Ugh, I just can't seem to take her out of head, especially if I know she's hanging out with another Unit that I am not well familiar of." He whispered the last part.

But this wasn't unheard to Arashi, then a frown loomed his confront. He clicked his tongue "tch, why are you even asking? mind your own business."

She tittered in exchange, undisturbed by the man with the silver hair's crude statements, "Oh my, you appear to be genuinely smitten with [Name]-chan, I never known you have this sidee, Izumi~ such an adorable pair you guys make." She singsong teasingly while applying a foundation across her cheek.

Similar to a beaming light, Izumi was quick to avert his eyes from the phone and jerked his head to Arashi, sporting the most shocked expression.

"Excuse me? Are you even hearing yourself right now? Naru-kun? Are you calling me a simp?" He scoffed in disbelief and vexation

"Well are you not? I am pretty sure you're absolutely infatuated over [Name]-chan with how you continually mentioning her, daydreaming about her. And let us not forget how you gaze at her with hearts popping out of your eyes like a love-sick puppy." Arashi closed-eye smile, furthermore teasing the male model

She chuckles once she takes notice Izumi's dumbstruck expression and remarks, "There's absolutely no reason to be bashful, Izumi-chan. It's likely to occur for a lover to get completely enamored over his girlfriend."

Tsukasa merely nodded his head in agreement after listening the entire exchange between his seniors. "I agree with Narukami-senpai, I may not be a specialist in the love department, but is it not customary for a partner to make their significant other feel special?" he inquired.

The red-haired male hummed, contemplating "Besides, it is one's knights responsibility to treat their beloved like a princess." Tsukasa established a strong, straight-faced statement, prompting Arashi softly chuckle at the junior's innocence, whereas Izumi was not having neither of them.

Izumi, who is egotistical, will never ever tolerate being lectured from someone who is younger than him.

"Ha-?! I am certainly not smitten over [N/N]-chan!" Izumi snaps back at Arashi, obstinately denying the obvious "And I do not need a lecture from a person who doesn't even have the experience having a troublesome lover to constantly have to take care of..!!" He added, confronting Tsukasa.

"Secchan is being in denial~" Ritsu chimed in, stretching's out his limbs and dragging out a sleepy yawn as he groggily opened his eyelids, "We all know you adooooreee [Name]-chan so much~ it's fairly evident you see, I say you are a huge simp."

Ritsu slyly smirked, aggravating the third year male even more

"I am not a SIMP."

"Whahahaha! Sena is a SIMP! S-I-M-P! SIMP..!!" The current king of the knights hurled out in laughter.

"I'm not! Say that again, you're dead." Izumi seethed, darkly glaring down at Leo who is still laughing uncontrollably, blissfully oblivious to the glare he was receiving from silver head "Now, now you two, let's not have a fight."

Arashi sweatdropped, gently tugging Izumi away from Ou-sama as possible she could, withTsukasa stood in front Leo to ensure Izumi won't pounce over the King.

"I'll prove it," Izumi spoke, his tone seeping with conviction. Grabbing the attention of everyone, including the eccentric leader "I'll prove that I am not simp, I prove it by denying all [N/N]'s pleads and request for the whole day. Just watch me, humph." Izumi puffed out his chest with internal pride swelling inside.

"Are you sure about this Izumi-chan?~"

"I am."

"Oh, are we initiating a bet? Then I'm in, the loser shall follow every orders of the winner." Ritsu quipped, a devious grin creeping onto his lips.

The enthusiasm in Leo's eyes shone as he proclaimed, "A wager? I'm also in..!! I want to participate, I would really like to join. Whehe I bet Sena would inevitably lose; be prepared to forfeit Sena since the King would win this thing! Whahahaha!"

The previously mentioned Sena simply scoffed with confidence at the declaration "Like hell I would be loosing." Tsukasa anxiously gulped

"I-I don't think this is a great Idea, it's quite a bit childish. Onee-sama won't be happy if she finds out about this..- E-eh?! O-Onee-sama, when did you get here?!" Tsukasa shrieked, genuinely flabbergasted by your sudden entrance.

You laughed "You seem to be surprise about by presence Tsukasa-kun, am I not welcome here?" You pouted, feigning hurt. Tsukasa hurriedly shook his head as a result.

"Of course not! You are more than welcome to come here whenever you please. I'm simply startled by your unexpected arrival. Speaking of which, if it's not too much to ask, when did you get here Onee-sama?"

You tilted your head to the side "Hm? Oh– I just arrived recently." You smiled, beaming.

"Anyway– Zumi-chan~ there you are, I've missed you so muchhhh…!!" Izumi let out a yelp as you leaped into his arms and then quickly wrapping your arms around his neck before snuggling adoringly against the crook of his neck.

Izumi cheeks reddened over what you did, nevertheless he was inwardly appreciating it. Of course, he wouldn't admit it to you out loud, even if you drag him to his death:

"Tsk, don't go jumping over me all of a sudden, I almost lost my balance you idiot." He snared, giving you a brief lecture.

Knowing how your lover behaves, you simply grinned in return. Even though he appears he doesn't seem to like your childishness, he absolutely loves it, especially when you show him how very much you care for him~ <33

"Sorry~ Sorry~ I'll be careful next time, I promise."

"You better be, what are you even doing here? I thought you are too busy tending the newbies?"

You blinked repeatedly before then nodding in confirmation "Oh, that? Yup! I am still pretty busy taking care of the new units actually." You replied, popping out the 'P'

"Though– I decided to visit you for a moment." Izumi triumphantly smirked at that, feeling very a tad bit smug about it, a cue of Arashi quietly snickering in the distance "And I actually came here to ask If I could borrow your sweater for tomorrow."

Borrow the what? Izumi swears he overheard some stifled chortles behind his back, recognizing the facial expression on his face, your smile begun to waver.

"Can I...? Or I can't.."

Stop pouting! Izumi mentally screamed, If there hadn't been any bet and he weren't so arrogant, Izumi would already have immediately responded 'yes' And if only he had been sincere enough to confess that he was madly in love with you.

Ugh, You simply had to ask at the worst possible time, do you?

Izumi batted an eyebrow "Don't you have your own sweater? Why do you have to use mine? What are you? A broke person who can't afford their own clothes?" He snarkily remarked, praying the back of his head you would drop this subject already.

Cause you are giving him the hardest time saying 'No' to you when you are imploring the cutest pleading expression. And the pout portraying your lips isn't helping him!

The pout deepened more, as you sent a half glared to your boyfriend "Am not, I have my own sweaters back at home of course, I just prefer your sweaters better because they are more soft than mine and they smelt like you." You explained in the most nonchalantly way.

Immediately sending Izumi to have a heart attack. Izumi was so deeply in love with you right now that he was required to employ all of his might to restrain himself from embracing you a tight hug and squeal how cute you are.

When Tsukasa spotted Ritsu sneer and cackle diabolically whilst also radiating a dark aura which thus warned of impending peril, he backed away from the languid self-proclaimed vampire.

Ritsu was aware that Izumi was already finding it challenging to say 'No' to his significant other, He simply needed to make light use of this predicament without needing to spend any efforts and energy.

He only needed to give Izumi a little prod here and there to be able to win the wager; afterwards, the silver head knight would be completely under his power.

"Hm? It seems like Secchan is a little reluctant to lend you his sweater [Name]-chan. If you would like, I can lend mind, it may not smell the same as Secchan, but is super-duper soft."

"Really? Mhm– I guess its not a bad idea, Sure! I'll borrow–" Before you could even the sentence, Izumi abruptly interrupts you before you can finish.

"You aren't borrowing anyone's sweater." Izumi sharply glared, "But you won't let me borrow yours, so why not use Ritsu-kun's instead?" You ask with a frown

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes and flicking your temple "I never said 'no' did I? You can borrow mine, just make sure you won't ruin it once you've returned it, got it?"

Your eyes lightened up "Really?! Ahaha~ My boyfriend is really the best! Can I borrow your shirt to? Pretty please…~" You fluttered your eyelashes, giving him the puppy eyes, Izumi can't say refuse to your puppy eyes.

Izumi slipped out an exasperation sigh, his eyebrow twitching from irritation "Aren't you just so demanding? How annoying~ fine, you can borrow it to. I better not see you tomorrow wearing someone's else clothing that isn't mine."

You enthusiastically nodded, Izumi's eyes fleetingly softened, his irises helding with pure adoration as he gaze at you nothing but fondess glinting on his matched blue eyes, a sweet smile briefly appeared on his lips before it quickly vanished.

Pressing a delicate kiss against his cheek, you smiled giggly "Thanks again izzun-chan~ bye-bye! I love you to the moon and back~" You exclaimed brightly, Izumi affectionately rolled his eyes

"Yeah, Yeah whatever, don't do anything stupid and make sure you return my stuff without a single scratch." Once you've finally left, Izumi huffs, the smile returning to his lips as he stared at the door where you had left.

The minute he turned around to face his fellow members of the unit, who were shooting him a knowing stare, his smile dissipated.

Izumi narrowed his eyes and subconsciously threatened his unit mates to speak up, however they didn't particularly express any apprehension, seemingly unfazed by his intimidation. After all, it is Izumi Sena, therefore why would they be scared?

Leo poked his tongue out and formed the Loser hand-sign while exclaiming, "Whahaha, Sena lost!!" Sena is such a loser, and a massive S-I-M-P.

Ritsu yawned, smirking playfully at the blushing Izumi Sena laid before them, "And thus it shows you lost the bet, which means you shall obey our commands throughout the day without hearing any grumbling from you, and ultimately this consistently shows, you are indeed a full-fledged simp." He all together clarified.

Arashi rested her cheeks on her palm, smiling amusingly "Fufu, you two are really such a cute couple."

"Izumi Sena, the ultimate SIMP, you must now submit to your king and diligently carry out my orders with pride Whahaha!" Leo laughed out loud "Hey, Sena, should I start calling you Sena the Simp from now on? Sena? Or should I say, Izzun-chan?" Leo persisted to hearty laugh, taking pleasure in the enraged grimace that covered Izumi's features.

Condescendingly, Izumi responded, "Say that again, and I'll kill you," although it appears that this actually motivated Leo to tease him further rather than convincing him to stop before it escalated into something more.

"Wait, Is it Zumi-chan? Or Izzun-chan? Ne, Sena the Simp, what does [Name]-chan calls you again?"

"Why you little…sh- that's it, you're dead."

"E-eh?! Violence is not a knight's approach, Sena-senpai! Stop at this at once, and Leader! quit behaving so immature, don't provoke him further, this is not how a king should act!"

"Oh my- Izumi-chan calm down!"

Ritsu yawned, casually witnessing the mayhem take place in front of him behind the scenes. He stood there staring into nothing before lying down and allowing the madness to unfold on its own.

"Good night..~"

#ensemble stars #ensemble stars x reader #ensemble stars x y/n #ensemble stars x you #enstars #knights #enstars imagines #izumi sena #ritsu sakuma #leo tsukinaga #tsukasa suou #arashi narukami #izumi sena x reader #sena izumi #sena izumi x reader

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n7punk · 11 months

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"Superzero" Fic Notes

Superzero, my secret superhero AU, is finally done! As usual, it went way longer than predicted, but I had a lot of fun with it so thanks for being along for the ride. The fic notes are… long.

Epilogue Life:

Scorpia takes longer learning her powers than is “typical” as a result of the crack in the garnet, but it does slowly heal over in her care. Her powers are also just a particularly dangerous set, but she learns to aim them at the technology and weapons of those coming at her rather than the heart. It takes a bit of training, but eventually she joins them in the field. The entire Alliance considers her the most likely to compromise them, but she’s one of the fold, so they take her in.

Catra continues to train alongside her and eventually the papers pick up on a secret member of the Alliance between some odd occurences and the name Ghost being thrown around. It’s still just speculation that’s never confirmed, but Catra is a part of the plan.

With the Horde dissolved, they do still see the odd supervillain or group attempting to rise up in their place (the Crimson Waste, for once) so they still have superheroing to do, not to mention natural disasters to help out in, but they aren’t as busy as they were before. They have more time for each other. And also studying. Catra of course finishes law school and passes the bar, eventually becoming a lawyer. Adora is stupidly proud of her. She works in a clinic for a while before becoming a full vet herself, but she gets there too and they do end up with that bayview apartment she wants eventually.

Chapter 1: Chance Encounter

⦁ Adora was Going Through It™️ when she fought Shadow Weaver, as the breakup was still fresh and she needed an outlet, which ended up being Shadow Weaver’s face. The Alliance had been fighting her for years, and she was personally responsible for the incident that caused Adora to miss their date, so the next time Adora fought her, she was pretty much screwed. Years of terrorizing the Fright Zone and one interrupted date gave She-ra all the motivation she needed to take her down.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Melog’s capture was originally the button on this chapter, but I didn’t want them to be captured for that long so I decided to imply the library attack’s purpose earlier

Chapter 3: Overworked

⦁ “Catra can’t tell she’s looking at her cleavage” Well she couldn’t until Adora’s eyes snapped to meet her and then she felt the change. She didn’t know where she was looking but like, come on. She’s so lucky Catra was so tired.

Chapter 4: Movie Night/Return

⦁ The mentions of the kitchen light are a reference. Even if you have good taste you probably won’t draw the connection though lmao.

⦁ Originally, Adora was always supposed to use the window. In fact, in the first draft of chapter one (which ended up almost entirely rewritten), Catra’s backpack got left at the library so Adora had to bring her in through the window and that’s what established the pattern, but then I tried to write that and realized how logistically dumb that was. I still intended for her to switch to using the window pretty quickly, but I was basically just waiting for a good time for them to have the talk about her neighbors possibly seeing and by then I realized that my early idea for roof meetups just made more sense.

Chapter 5: Rooftop

⦁ Initially the fic was supposed to start here. I really wanted to write this fic for The Scene™️ (more on that later) so it kind of made sense to start the fic with Catra already friends with She-ra and then I’d get a chapter or two of these secret meetings and flirting, and then I would get into the kiss. When I went to write the fic, though, I decided I should show the initial rescue in a prologue kind of thing and then do some skipping forward through their friendship. I started writing chapter 2 though and it just kept continuing “in real time” and I absolutely couldn’t skip that angst because it was fun, so I ended up just writing the whole thing and having chapter 5 be more like what I thought 1 & 2 would be initially.

⦁ Catra assumed She-ra was stopping by when she had Alliance business in the area, and that is partially true, but Adora was also swinging by when she could disappear for a few hours without her roommate noticing/questioning it, which was easier said than done.

⦁ There was a line all the way back in chapter one that I cut for being awkwardly phrased, not realizing it was the establishing line for the fact that She-ra has been missing for a few hundred years. It was only when it came up again in chapter five that I noticed, and by then I had already posted almost everything leading up to it and there wasn’t anywhere to put it back in early. This is one of those things were, if this was a book, I would fix that on the second draft but you don’t really get a chance for that with fanfic. I had already posted chapter three by the time I realized so the earliest I could have added it was chapter four, and by then I decided to just wait until chapter five, since the part where that would actually become relevant wouldn’t be for a few chapters anyway, it just should have been set up sooner.

⦁ Adora immediately assumed Catra was talking about her when she mentioned a breakup, but she was also kind of worried she wasn’t and there had been another relationship in the interim that she didn’t know about. The whole conversation was rough for her. She was trying to comfort Catra while subtly encouraging her to think more about what could have actually happened, and she completely meant it when she said Catra deserved better (…than she had treated her).

⦁ While “breakup haircut” isn’t a phrase I’ve heard exactly, the concept of cutting all your hair off when you go through a big change — often a breakup — is definitely one I’ve seen around a lot. There’s entire songs about coming back into an ex’s life as a blonde. I mean, how many of us shaved our heads during the pandemic. Of course there was the added factor of not being able to get a haircut, but trauma haircuts — or hair dyes — are a definite thing.

Chapter 6: Mistake

⦁ As implied in the fic, the spell-storm was a side effect of Shadow Weaver trying to drain Melog’s magic. She couldn’t control it and it manifested physically in the environment.

⦁ Writing this fic was a really interesting challenge because of the unusual dynamic between Catra and She-ra. It was so weird to write Catra falling for someone who wasn’t Adora, but also was; not to mention She-ra backing off at weird times because she thought she might out herself to Catra, etc. Catra was wary of She-ra and she would have been way more so if she wasn’t a) a literal superhero and be) reminded her of Adora. The whole dynamic was really complicated, but it’s part of what made me want to write this in the first place, so even if it was really hard and I had to rewrite a lot, it was a good challenge

⦁ … That was part of what made me want to write this fic. The rest of was The Scene™️, which was the kiss and fall out in chapter 6. Pretty quickly Catra finding Melog and then the smug introduction with the Alliance became the “secondary” Ccenes that I also pushed towards when the rewrites were getting to me.

⦁ I had so many different ideas for how the reveal conversation could go I couldn’t possibly hope to fit them all into one and not have it be like twenty minutes of extended arguing, so after trying a couple variants, I settled on the lines that worked the best.

Chapter 7: Hindsight

⦁ This fic is interesting because, while I never really mention it or make it too explicit, it is partially nonlinear. The scenes with Melog, especially, were never intended to be signposted as taking place right where the other scenes were in the story. Another example is the kiss scene partially playing out twice from each perspective, and the start of chapter 6. Catra’s spiraling lasts well into the night whereas Adora’s following scene with Glimmer takes place earlier, right after Chapter 6 cut off.

⦁ Initially there was supposed to be an extended beat in this chapter where Adora thought she was being quietly kicked out of the Alliance (not completely, but that they were going to stop trusting her with anything other than punching). It didn’t end up fitting with the timeline, so it got dropped to like one line of speculation on her part in the Netossa scene, but the idea was going to be that the team gets called to another emergency like four days later and they don’t invite Adora. Now, that was actually because she was just recovering from being sick and walking around like a zombie, but she thought it was proof they were done with her and thus she went down to the Alliance sanctum to punch it out. A relic of this plan that I ended up keeping is when Adora says “I don’t care. I’m not doing this,” in the scene with Glimmer. The second half of the plot beat was, at the same time as Adora thought she was kicked out, the Alliance thought she might be quitting. They were giving her space both to recover and calm down, but with how badly she broke then, it seemed like she might have decided that she wanted to be done with the thing that had totally ruined her life. No one thought she would actually stay away, but they were giving her room to cool off.

⦁ Speaking of the punch-out scene, that was initially written all the way back in chapter 2. Basically I wrote the very beginning (Netossa tells her to talk and offering her the easy way, ending with the “drop the goddess act” part) with the idea being Adora was angsting over Catra, but pretty quickly I was looking at the set up and going oh this would be so much better later when she’s really angsting so I cut it out from there, tossed it in my Scrivener doc, and then reused the structure of it for this scene.

⦁ April 26th is the day season 2 of SPOP dropped. November 13th is when the show premiered. The other dates are made up bullshit.

Chapter 8: I Like the Idea of You

⦁ Which name Catra is using for Adora (Adora vs. She-ra) is important in this scene. She is considering how she knew them as separate entities and using each name depending on that at first, and then she’s trying to just sink into the She-ra fantasy, and then she starts losing herself. She uses She-ra when Adora is especially confident, flexes her strength/powers, or Catra can’t see her face to contradict it — basically whenever Adora plays into her initial She-ra fantasies — and she uses Adora when she is being soft/gentle/meek, when Catra has an emotional connection to what’s happening, or sometimes just because she’s seeing her face and that’s Adora’s face, not the mask she pictured for She-ra. A weird example of this is the, uh, you know, spit string moment, where Catra is actually having an internal reaction to seeing Adora debauched/debauching her like she used to fantasize about. She’s also looking at Adora’s face again for the first time after looking away. I know there’s a lot of name-changing in this scene, but it all has a purpose, and part of my editing was making sure the right ones were being used for each moment. By the time Catra was really getting into it, though, the scene/Catra were getting away from me and taking control, and thus using Adora for every name, and I had to fix that in a few small places.

⦁ At this point I’m writing things in smut just based off the if I haven’t done it before. I’ve always written a range of stuff , but when writing this I found myself just doing things because they were new without much other reason as long as it still served the purpose I wanted for the scene.

Chapter 9: Ripples

⦁ The glamor is actually lowkey a reference to an earlier version of the fic idea where the Alliance just straight up didn’t wear masks and it was a Superman situation. The idea was there would be a glamor (similar to the Mist in the Percy Jackson series) that would make it really hard to recognize someone for who they are, but could still be fought through. It was one of the contender ideas but I quickly settled on just having them wear masks. The way the glamor actually works in-universe is that it makes it hard to notice similarities. So before meeting She-ra, Catra straight up couldn’t notice “hey, the Alliance is led by a trio that matches the description of Adora and her friends,” but once she saw She-ra’s face she had enough to be like “that’s Adora.” Conversely, if She-ra had been someone she didn’t actually know well like just one of her classmates she didn’t actually talk to, she still might not have been able to recognize her without the mask on. The glamor is not inherent to the runestones, but is a manifestation of their power that has come over the last four hundred years of the princesses living in secret. If a princess chose to be open with her identity, the glamor would ease as the runestone learned it didn’t have to help her hide. Basically, it’s a learned behavior of the runestones, not innate.

⦁ Usually in canon fics I have Adora tend to refer to She-ra as if she’s a third person (because Adora has a lot of issues feeling like she’s not living up to what She-ra should be, or putting She-ra and her duties above herself) and Catra reacts like she finds that weird. The truth is Catra partially does, but she’s also training Adora to recognize she is She-ra, she doesn’t have to do anything more to be worthy of being herself, and she is the only one who gets to decide what She-ra’s duties are. This only really comes up in post-canon fics, where they both have had some Realizations™️. In this fic, Catra starts off trying to distance She-ra from Adora, so she reacts completely opposite to how she usually does and refers to She-ra as a third separate person for herself. Adora does this too, just like she always does. Catra only starts coming around slowly and changes her mind later.

⦁ Micah had his suspicions and he probably would have come even if he had known just because he would have been worried and felt like he could handle himself. The other princesses trying to comfort Angella with that at the time is part of why Angella turned to Castaspella. She also felt like she deserved to know the truth about how her brother died, even though that context really had nothing to do with it. At the end of the day, Micah made the decision.

⦁ When the comms are turned on, they’re constantly broadcasting to each other, but the microphones are set to be partially muted so they (hopefully) mainly just pick up the person who is wearing them talking. When the button is pressed, it turns up sensitivity and also bumps the broadcaster’s volume up so their orders can come through clearly. Catra could just barely be heard over the comms, but of course Adora caught something, and then she saw Entrapta when Bow fired his arrow, who she recognized in conjunction with Catra’s voice (her hair is kind of distinctive). She asked Bow “What’s going on? Is Catra here?” and that’s when he said not now. After the robots were dispatched, she immediately landed beside him and gave him her Firm Commander look and he explained the brief interaction. Once the scene was completely cleared and they had teleported back to the sanctum, Adora agonized over Catra before ultimately deciding to text her. If Catra hadn’t responded, she would have had Glimmer bring her over to her apartment (which Glimmer would have done with minimal complaint, because there was a real chance Catra had gotten injured trying to leave the scene) but Catra texted back fairly quickly. She didn’t respond to Adora’s second message, which she would have liked just to know what was really going on, but she took what she could get.

⦁ Guesses for who Melog actually was were really interesting. I thought that either people were going to be onto me immediately due to the pronouns or be completely unsure due to assuming I was using they/them pronouns to obfuscate it. I saw a mix, though I don’t think anyone really guessed Melog by name in the first chapter. For the first couple chapters, guesses seemed evenly split between Melog and being unsure. Other guesses were DT, Shadow Weaver/shadow spies, Micah, and the First Ones worm (or maybe elemental?) from Glimmer’s coronation trial. Sorry to everyone’s Melog comments I ignored, but I wanted to maintain the mystery.

⦁ On a similar note of future guesses, no one commented a correct guess on Catra finding out the exact way that she did. There were some interesting theories that I enjoyed, and a few more along the lines of how she would potentially join the Alliance that were exciting to see so early on.

⦁ Catra started to say “Good boy” and then realized that was wrong for several reasons and probably demeaning, so she just pivoted.

⦁ Catra finding Melog under the dumpster was the second Scene™️ for this fic. It was one of the first things I outlined for it. Actually it might have been the first because I never wrote out an outline for the kiss scene, I just pictured it in my head a dozen times starting back when I was still writing AMLAIT. The Melog scene was, in the very initial idea, taking place after a chance attack Catra happened to get caught up in, but as soon as I started writing the fic and used that plot device in the opening I didn’t want to use it again, so the Entrapta thing formed because I already had the technopath subplot set up for later. Very little changed about the scene except how Catra got there and a little dialog tweaking, but originally Catra was supposed to hide Melog in a backpack she was carrying. I didn’t want to write one into the brief “chase scene”, so I gave her a gay flannel instead and had her wrap up them in that.

Chapter 10: Cause and Effect

⦁ Normally I uppercase krytian, but for this fic it was a species name like “human” so I (un)capitalized it as such.

⦁ Melog doesn’t know a lot about krytians due to a mix of their age when they were orphaned and the language gap. Melog’s parent never said to them “We are krytians, we were victims of a genocide by a human religious sect” they said “We are us, but others are dangerous. They hunted us, and now we must live in secret.” Krytians think of themselves as we and everyone else as them. They don’t have pronouns because they are I, you, or us. It’s combination of their culture and their communication method that makes it that way. Melog had no idea what the world would know them as until Catra told them. Shadow Weaver called them it a few times, but again, Melog didn’t know what that meant. It wasn’t until Catra found them and helped with their memories that they understood their jailer was named Shadow Weaver.

⦁ Okay this is something I had to cut from Chapter 10 because the whole thing it was included in dragged on, but I’m really SAD I had to cut it because it is, well, sad, so here it is, to hurt you with for posterity: “Krytians forms are so reliant on magic, they don’t even leave bodies behind when they die. They dissipate back into the area when they die. When Melog lost their parent, their tombstone was a slowly fading well of power. Melog was the only one to ever know that they lived or died.”

⦁ For this fic, I considered having Shadow Weaver just be a supervillain and Catradora grew up in some Anonymously Rough group home together to set up the right experience for their current insecurities and mental issues — I even went back and forth on some edits early on to leave more possibilities open — but once I had the whole Melog plot getting Catra into the Alliance, it only made sense for her to have someone to fight with them, and setting up Shadow Weaver as a ghost from their past worked perfectly for that. Plus, I couldn’t resist the “I was raised by a supervillain” line.

⦁ A big part of Catra’s struggle with Adora in this fic, after she finds out the truth about what happened, is neglect. She knows that Adora didn’t drop her and she had reason to be busy, but it was still a pretty shitty way to treat someone even before you get to the ‘lying about it’ part. Catra (as she later demonstrates) is capable of understanding and even sharing Adora’s commitment, but it wouldn’t be fair for Adora to continue to put absolutely everything first aside from Catra, and the fear that she would do that again was a big thing keeping Catra away. Adora loves her and she makes that rather clear, assuaging one of Catra’s fears, but loving someone and actually treating them well — especially the way they consider treating them well — are two different things. I brush up on this a lot in my Catradora fics (BFM comes to mind) but I feel like it’s especially important for this one.

Chapter 11: Peace Talks

⦁ The Swift Wind thing came from a comment exchange on Chapter 4 where I said that I wasn’t planning on it, but the way I would work Swift Wind in would be for Adora to “deputize” a police horse in battle and for him to then work on freeing all the animals used by the police. It would kind of be a random thing to include in the fic, but I really liked the idea, so it was kind of in the back of my mind and I formed the idea of it being a story the Alliance tells rather than a scene on its own. I was really happy to be able to work it in. I think sometimes I go “that’s a distraction/irrelevant to the fic” but like… it’s fic. “Regular” media can have one off jokes and this is fic where I can do whatever I want so communist horse it is.

⦁ As is… just expected at this point for my fics, half of the contents of chapter 11 were supposed to also be covered in chapter 10, but that thing hit 8k before they even explained anything, so it had to be broken up.

⦁ Chapter 11 is basically the end of my main planning for the fic. After that point, it was all new stuff I came up with to serve the ending of the story that had been written so far. My big outline point for everything after chapter eleven was basically just “take down the horde. Be superheroes. Kiss & make up.”

Chapter 12: Movie Night?

⦁ Given that I just said 11 was the end of my planning, it feels weird to say “12 wasn’t supposed to exist,” but it really wasn’t. My planning by then was for the story to shift into Catra and Adora cautiously taking up texting while she set Entrapta on the Horde’s scent — basically, Chapter 13. The first scene of Chapter 12 started as an ending button scene for Chapter 11, but then I got the idea for the movie night (which actually originated back in Chapter 10, where the initial draft of the chapter included them explicitly planning the horse movie thing) and — more temptingly — the secret kisses during it, so then I had to write it. The scene with Glimmer was also unplanned (when I first tried to write it, the idea was that Catra actually stayed the night because it was “too late” to go all the way back home, but then the gap between the movie and the morning was too big for conversations to not have taken place), but showing Catra open up a little to more members of the Alliance was important for when she joined them later, so I wrote it.

⦁ Catra says the new place “wouldn’t work with Melog” for two reasons: 1) it was another studio, and she needed more options for privacy, especially with Adora around, and 2) it didn’t allow pets. Now, she had no intention of paying the pet fee or ever revealing Melog’s existence, but if a neighbor was to hear Melog meowing or pawing at the door, they would just assume Catra had a cat and had paid for it, instead of possibly snitching about her sneaking one in.

⦁ “Princess isn’t a thing for her” *proceeds to immediately outline why it’s a thing for her when Catra says that*

⦁ Obviously Catra was worried about She-ra finding out Entrapta was a technopath before because her entire apartment looks suspicious as hell, but knowing it’s Adora, she knows she’ll listen to her if she says Entrapta isn’t with the Horde. Otherwise, there’s a very real chance of somebody thinking she’s the one building their bots.

⦁ If you’re capable of not crying during the train scene in Spirit then you’re heartless.

Chapter 13:

⦁ The line “[Trust] can be lost in [a year], too” is in reference to Catra and Adora, not the Alliance.

Chapter 14:

⦁ Glimmer stalled telling her mom because she wanted school to be busy so Angella couldn’t say or do much because it would distract me from finals, mom.

⦁ Shadow Weaver ran the home for every reason Catra listed and more. Maintaining a secret identity (as long as absences didn’t become conspicuous) helped her fly under the radar. It also made her not entirely reliant on the Horde (she didn’t trust Hordak, though if anything he shouldn’t have trusted her). When the kids hit their late teen years and were about to age out into the world, she knew exactly who, when, and where to target them (as Shadow Weaver, or via proxy with another member of the Horde) for a recruitment pitch. She was especially looking for magic children who might have a future in the Horde — or who might be capable of becoming princesses and inheriting/fixing her runestone, or using another one if they ever managed to track down She-ra and Spirit Ember (both runestones clearly lost, but Shadow Weaver didn’t know if that was permanent or a situation like how she acquired the Black Garnet and thus she hoped to find more). She saw that opportunity in Adora, which is a reason why she targeted her and Catra in particular. Finally, Catra is kind of right that she did it for her own “enjoyment”, but it was in a very different way — at least to her. Shadow Weaver legitimately saw herself as helping the kids who crossed her doorstep and thought the world needed her and people like her to prepare these poor, unloved, unruly children for the future. She thought she was a hero and any sliver of remorse she had for the Horde’s more extreme actions she could dismiss with “well look what good I’m doing with this home, it balances out.”

⦁ “It’s a nice dream” Yeah Horde Prime’s line like that still fucks me up and I had to slip it in.

⦁ There’s a dampening spell centered on the door so other people in the archive don’t hear it opening and closing (all the secret tomfoolery would be pretty ruined if people heard a bookshelf being dragged around in the next room all the time) but it also lets me surprise Catra, which is a rare opportunity.

⦁ The alarm at the computer goes off at the same time as a mid-level priority message to all their phones so someone will check the news/hub to see if it’s something they need to deal with, but since they were in the room with the alarm, no one heard/cared about their phones buzzing.

⦁ Melog’s ability to warp the world around them as they travel the paths is inspired by Little Nightmares 2 and that’s all I’ll say on that because it’s not a game that should be spoiled. I thought it fit well with their illusion magic, though. I think the official power is called something like object distance manipulation but relativity manipulation sounded like a better fit to me.

⦁ I was kinda surprised people asked about Netossa and Spinnerella’s codenames (which is a fair question) but no one asked for Bow since they’re all in the same spot as not having a runestone in canon. For Bow, I came up with the Cupid thing Catra mentions early on in the fic as a joke, and while I do think it’s a plausible thing for Bow to consider given his very “I love love” attitude, I don’t think he would actually pick it and it felt a little diminutive. Apollo was a late contender thank to the historical connection with his dads and his association with archery, but I thought about other bow/arrow symbolism and remembered one of the Zodiac had a bow and arrow and thus went with Sagittarius once I realized it was Glimmer’s zodiac. This meant I had to spell Sagittarius. So I fucked up there. For Spinnerella, I never ended up saying it in the fic so I kind of got away lucky, but her runestone is an amethyst. I had been calling her just “Cyclone” in my head, which of course didn’t match with a runestone so I had to add some kind of gem/mineral thing in there, but there’s a big range from the simple “Moonstone” to the slightly more descriptive “Sea Pearl” to “Fractal Flake” which is… nothing. I tried for a while to make some kind of alliteration with “Cyclone,” but there aren’t a lot of gems that fit that, so in the end I went with just Amethyst despite being a little unimaginative because I couldn’t come up with anything that wasn’t cumbersome to shout in battle. I really tried to work some kind of “Air Amethyst” type alliteration in there but it just didn’t happen. For Netossa, I thought about making her sapphire early on because blue, but that’s a Steven Universe character so I wanted to either find something else or add a modifier onto it. Coming up with modifiers related to nets is… hard. Star Sapphire and Cerulean Sapphire (bit of an oxymoron, but it felt like it fit with the naming conventions lol) were in contention. It was just hard to relate anything to nets of all things so I followed the simple route a la Moonstone and just went with Star Sapphire (the star pattern of which could represent the intersections of the ropes in her nets? Maybe? Listen that’s the best I’ve got). For Catra things were… more complex. Catra very well could have picked anything she wanted, similar to Bow, which made it a lot harder. I considered Wildcat immediately (especially with Scorpia suggesting it later and then Catra ends up stuck with it after the others pick up on it) but I didn’t want a name that reveals she’s a magicat, so I tested out a lot of things until I just settled on Ghost for the invisibility. Tiger’s Eye was my other immediate instinct for the runestone theme, because, well, obviously, but while that felt exactly like what SPOP would call the magicat runestone, I wasn’t naming “Catra’s runestone,” I was coming up with a superhero name for Catra while runestones also exist. Her name only had to match as much as she wanted it too, and it didn’t feel like she would want that. As soon as I decided on Ghost I looked up to see if there were any “Ghost something” crystals, which is when I found Phantom quartz and added it into the conversation. When I was looking at gems/minerals/elements for inspo, I saw Mercury and I thought that fit really well with Melog’s shifting powers, and as something related both to geology (okay, listen, it’s an element and that’s close enough) and astrology. Other contenders were things like Silver, Bismuth, and a red theme for/with Catra (I literally looked up a list of red shade names. Naming things is hard). Then I had to come up with joke names that were still something the character might come up with (for themselves and others), so I just made things worse for myself. I got to acknowledge that initial Tiger’s Eye instinct though, so that was good to fit in.

Chapter 15:

⦁ Sideloading an app is basically downloading it on your phone without using the system’s app store.

⦁ After Perfuma suggested Phantom, I thought “you know what, that sounds cool” so I went back and forth on using that instead, but there’s no way Catra would pick it knowing the context, so I played with it a bit more in the scene where they decide her official codename — as well as giving her perspective on that bit, and introducing the beginning of Netossa kind of being Catra’s superhero mentor, which is a relationship that develops after the fic ends — but ultimately let Catra decide. It also let me introduce how the system was coded around their aliases, keeping Entrapta from instantly realizing their identities when she hacked them, though it’s obvious once you start sifting through the general channel and see them talking.

⦁ Bow lives with his dads still since they’re close enough to campus for it and that way he doesn’t really need a job on top of school and (secret) heroing. That means he spends a lot of time in Glimmer’s dorm, though, because it’s the only private place he has to go on campus. He can go to George’s office, too, but students come and go from that so it’s not really any better than a student lounge.

⦁ Adora’s voice is strained after saying she loves Catra because she’s convincing herself that Catra just isn’t ready to say it back yet. She’s in total denial that hearing it is important to her.

⦁ Kadroh is, of course, Wrong Hordak, and the guy who runs the front counter.

⦁ Entrapta was basically shouting for the entire conversation with Scorpia, but since Scorpia also tends to talk loudly, she didn’t really notice it.

⦁ The scene with Scorpia is actually the first I conceived for the fic from a different perspective, which would eventually influence my decision to switch perspective around however I saw fit.

Chapter 16:

⦁ Adora mentions her academics a lot in this fic because I was playing with the idea of her dropping out and just becoming a vet tech to reduce her stress and wanted to leave that option open, but she was so close it didn’t end up feeling right, especially after the Horde became less of a threat with their scrambling following the arrest.

⦁ Someone on crew (pretty sure it was ND) joked that Catra’s “real name” was Elizabeth, so I pulled that as the bullshit name Scorpia said. I went back and forth on her actually saying Catra’s name in hopes of being able to tell if the Horde recognized it (and thus had at least seen her) but that would have been a whole thing to Shadow Weaver as soon as she heard it and there was too much going on in the scene already to throw that in. Plus, it risked endangering Catra’s secret identity even more than Scorpia’s mere presence already did.

⦁ Okay, so obviously my instinct when giving Scorpia an alias was to use… her fucking alias, lmao, but Linda is her mom and D’Ream is her last name already, so Lynda wasn’t going to work. Lynda D’Ream was originally a reference to Scorpia’s voice actress in the 80s (Linda Gary), so I used her SPOP voice actress’s name, Lauren Ash, and threw a fucking y in there because that’s how they did it lmao

⦁ Every runestone calls out a little differently to its holder (in the circumstance where it’s not immediately passed to them). Adora saw lights in the edge of her vision, just ephemeral enough to now be there, that led her towards the stone and then it pulled her in with a mental call. Scorpia couldn’t feel the mental call with the stone cracked, but it sparked to beckon her.

⦁ Scorpia’s mask looking kind of like Shadow Weaver’s was temporary. I don’t know if I ever squeezed the joke in because I’ve been writing this fic for like two months and have forgotten, but the first time Adora transformed, it was into her season one outfit. Both she and the runestone kind of freaked out and it was only on subsequent transformations, when she knew what was happening and could exercise some control over it, that the season five/current She-ra costume appeared. Scorpia is in a similar situation where her mask will eventually take a vaguely scorpion-like theme, with the hooks down her cheeks mimicking stingers and similar ones hooking up her forehead and back over her ears.

⦁ Scorpia didn’t notice any of Catra’s attempts to touch her. Catra kept them light because she was worried about startling Scorpia and giving away their best shot at getting out of this, but that just made them easier for Scorpia to miss them.

⦁ Melog was reliving some trauma and hiding out under the table made them feel better, so when Catra was okay they were busy taking care of themselves by hiding to recuperate.

Chapter 17:

⦁ Shadow Weaver genuinely isn’t entirely certain what happened that day. She remembers Lauryn showing up, but details are fuzzy. When Black Garnet debuts, she remembers that Lauryn was the new Black Garnet since it was Kind Of A Big Deal to her, but she doesn’t remember many details about what she looks like that aren’t already public, and she doesn’t remember her transforming because it all happened so fast and then she was electrocuted and unconscious. That electrocution caused her some issues beyond her memories of that day, and between that and having no magic herself, she isn’t much of a threat when it comes to breaking out of jail or something. With the overwhelming evidence of her involvement in the Horde and no evidence she was blackmailed as she claimed, she goes away for a long time. Everybody arrested turns on Hordak trying to get a plea deal, and between the testimony and physical evidence he was the only one who could have built the robots, he gets convicted of a lot of things, especially as an accessory because that’s easier to prove.

⦁ The rooftop scene was actually initially planned to go earlier in the fic, before the big confrontation, but even though I had been planting the seeds for it, I wanted a bit more hinting and I felt like Catra running off on her own would make Adora worry even more about it, so I pushed it back.

⦁ I ended up using gender neutral pronouns for Horde members a couple times because they often wear helmets or masks that make it hard, but sometimes I chose to use gendered pronouns because I tend to default to they-them pronouns and a nebulous appearance for rando NPCs and I didn’t want it to seem like I was doing that rather than it being a part of the plot that they were disguised and ambiguous. And of course physical appearance isn’t always and indicator of pronouns etc (it certainly isn’t for me lol) but it is usually the assumed default without indicators otherwise. Also sometimes it was just easier to have a random NPC gendered, which is why I had rando Horde members be male a couple times because it just made it easier to distinguish who was who during the fight scenes LOL.

⦁ The “I’ll stroke your ego if it shuts you up” “Wow that didn’t take much convincing” exchange was in my notes before I even started writing the fic. I didn’t have a place for it planned and it only ended up coming up here at the end, but I’m glad I got to use it finally.

Misc Fic Thoughts:

⦁ I’d written a little here and there, but I really got my fanfiction start (both reading and writing) in the comics fandom. I never had a superhero AU “planned” but it always felt like an inevitable thing I would do one day when an idea occurred to me. Superheros befriending(/rescuing/romancing) people they know in their real lives but who don’t know about their secret identity is something I’m a SUCKER for, so when that idea occurred to me in early March it was like of course. I absolutely have to do this right away. I had another thing I was excited for but this jumped the line as soon as AMLAIT was done. I was actually writing this simultaneously with editing that ending.

⦁ I’ve referenced the playlist a couple times and it’s linked below, but I wanna actually talk about it for a second. If you weren’t around for it, 8tracks was a website that was basically the Tumblr version of spotify playlists. It wasn’t affiliated with Tumblr or anything, there were just a lot of Tumblr people populating it and it had a tagging system, so you could hunt down all the playlists associated with your fandom. There were some licensing/copyright issues, and they had a profitability problem anyway, I think, so after a few years it closed down and no website has ever been able to capture the kind of playlists 8tracks hosted and the quality there. With it gone, I can’t go back and find the playlist that this AU is named after. However, it was a Young Avengers playlist (it was called something like “superzeroes — a young avengers fanmix”) that I still vividly remember the cover art for. I believe it was around 11 songs long (a pretty normal length for an 8tracks playlist), and the only two songs I’m pretty sure were on it were Superlove by Charlie XCX and Kick Ass by Mika. I think there might have been a song by FUN on the playlist too? But that — like both of the other songs, really — could have come from one of my other comics-related playlists too. I did my DAMNEDEST to find a tumblr post linking to this playlist again (and in doing so, dug up some nostalgia holy shit) but in the end turned up nothing. Shockingly for how long I’ve gone on about it, I wasn’t particularly attached to this playlist. I mean, I listened to it, but it just came up as a memory when I first got the idea to do a superhero AU, so when I created a file for it I named it “Superzero AU” just intending for it to be a play on superhero, and then that Became the AU’s name in my head and I couldn’t change it after this. I need to stop doing that to myself. The name does, however, have meaning, which is kind of two-fold. First, superzero is an insult aimed at Adora. I considered having Catra say it to her face when they were fighting, showing that she can try to be a superhero to everyone else but she is still a failure, because she failed Catra (they didn’t end up fighting a lot so that didn’t make it into the fic, but the idea of superzero being a term Catra snidely thinks about Adora when they were fighting is still there). Second, Catra is the superzero, specifically a superhero with zero powers. She’s using Melog’s, yes, but she has none of her own and yet she eventually joins the Alliance in throwing herself into danger.

⦁ POV for this fic is interesting because when I was originally coming up with the concept, most of the scenes where from Catra’s perspective, but I knew I wanted the kiss scene specifically to be from Adora’s perspective. I also knew, by the time I started writing it in earnest, that this was going to a long fic so sticking to one POV was going to be impractical. I then thought about switching POV by chapter and just having the Catra chapters be longer, but there were too many scenes I wanted both their takes on. I then considered something weird which was alternating Catra POV chapters with my usual back-and-forth POV chapters, but by then I knew I wanted a scene from Melog’s perspective and maybe even one from Scorpia’s, so I decided f**k it, free POV whenever and wherever I want. This is the first time I’ve really used a POV like this in a long fic, though I did it here and there in one-shots like the soulmarks AU and ‘dawn after the long dark’ in OotW.

⦁ I had fun with this fic, but it was also Struggle Bus to write (for various reasons, from plot-related, to meta, to my own indecision, to life). All my fics (at least long ones, and it can still happen in one-shots) include rewrites somewhere, but I feel like it’s something invisible to both readers and other writers. You only see the final result, not the six tries + editing it took to get there, but this one took a lot of rewriting. I think the final result is fun though so I’m really happy with it.

Original Outline:

The original idea for this fic was very brief. She-ra would have already saved Catra in the past and they were in the weird friendship phase, there was some will-they-won’t-they and attempted friendship tension, then the kiss and the reveal, then the booty call which would start turning Catra around and they would repair their relationship from there.

Then I thought “hey this is a magical realism au, I could have Melog in here” and immediately had the idea for the scene where Catra found Melog. Everything spiraled from there. Below is the entire outline for the fic by the time I finished drafting the first chapter (during which I had ideas about Shadow Weaver’s place in this AU and such).

- meet - friendship (adora learns theres a chance of rebuilding next semester) - return (health insurance, kiss it better) - “just checking in again” (law student) - rooftop - kiss/fall out - booty call - in limbo, find melog - bring melog to BMU - priorities conversation - some fight with the horde, taking down shadow weaver

In the end, the fic followed the outline, though not always the way I thought, mostly at the end where it was more ambiguous. I don't have much to say about it (beyond what I said in earlier notes) since it mostly turned out how I planned, but I thought sharing what one of my overarching outlines looks like might be fun.

Meta:

Superzero playlist

Upcoming:

Okay so I have like, four fics I’m weighing at the moment and I’m not sure with one is going to win, so it’s hard to say which will be upcoming. If I had to guess, though? City of Angels.

#superzero #ficmeta #fic notes #i can finally read those superhero au fics i drafted ages ago because i knew i would want to write my own eventually lmao #if i know im doing an au i avoid reading others of that au to avoid being influenced or whatever #also ive been low spoons for a while and lost control of replying to comments but i will try to catch up on the last week or two if i can #ive just been prioritizing actually writing over that

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canonicallyobserving911 · 1 year

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An unsolicited observation but in 5x17 I never really thought much about Buck being at the house with Eddie and Christopher while they are packing to leave for his dad's retirement party in El Paso . But at the beginning of the scene Eddie is hurrying Chris along saying "...we still have to pick up Tia Pepa". Recently it occurred to me that Buck probably wasn't there just to hang out. He was probably taking them to the airport which means he was taking Pepa as well. It made me start to wonder, canonically, about Buck's place in the extended Diaz family as well.

It's small throwaway lines like this that I'm now starting to think have been used to imply that Buck and Eddie have a much more involvement in each other's lives than we have been shown on screen. Particularly in the wake of recent episodes that finally seems to be revealing those interactions and framing them as normal in their lives instead of as a "new normal" because of the lightning strike.

I'm sure this is obvious to you. You are have such an eye for detail when it comes to this show and this ship.

Thank you @spiceyreads for the ask and I agree with you because the time Buck spent with Eddie and Chris in 5x17 "Hero Complex" (even though the audience didn't see Chris in the episode, it was implied he was there) was just as important as the scenes Buck and Eddie had with Pepa in 2x4 "Stuck". Buck met her when he drove Eddie to the hospital. (Buck driving Eddie to the hospital was possibly another piece of relevant information regarding Buck and Eddie's relationship that may have been missed by some. They were at work so why did Buck drive Eddie to the hospital? Well... it's because Buck always drives when they're in the car together just like he did at the end of 2x3 when he drove Eddie to pick Chris up from school after the earthquake, he drove in 4x12 during the treasure hunt and in 4x13 when he drove the battalion car so they could save Charlie.)

Buck and Eddie are extremely involved in each other's lives and even though the audience doesn't always see it, they are especially when other scenes with their relatives are taken into account. I've included two examples below (one for Buck and one for Eddie).

Buck knows Eddie's family

In 3x10 "Christmas Spirit" Eddie told Hen, since the 118 had to work, Chris was going to spend Christmas Day with his abuela and she was going to take him to his aunt's (Pepa's) but Isabel was the one who took Chris to the firehouse. Some may have missed it but Buck was probably the one who contacted her. Here's the connection. The family dinner at the firehouse was Buck's idea and he asked Maddie to call Athena to see what she thought about it and they had their conversation while Maddie and Frank were driving to the woods where she killed Doug. Buck worked with Athena to pull it all off and Athena thanked him after they were done eating dinner right before they took the family picture. Here's the thing... it's unlikely that Athena knows Eddie's abuela but Buck knows her and he knows Pepa too so he was probably the one who called her and explained if she brought Chris to the firehouse, he would get to spend time with Eddie on the holiday.

Eddie talks to Buck's parents

In 4x5 "Buck Begins", when Buck's parents went to the firehouse, Margaret told Buck after he went upstairs, the firefighters seemed to like him a lot and it was probably Eddie who talked to them while they were waiting for Buck to return to the firehouse. Here's the connection. They met Chimney in 4x4 which means they would have mentioned him by name if he was one of the firefighters who spoke well of their son. Bobby wasn't there because he took Buck to the doctor, therefore Eddie and Hen were the only two people from A-shift left. Hen wasn't shown on-screen prior to the scene but Eddie was and he told Buck he had some visitors and nodded his head towards the stairs. After Buck walked past him, Eddie watched him walk up there. Therefore Eddie was probably the one who talked to the Buckleys and told them only good things about their son. Also Margaret said, "You were born to save someone and that's what you do every day". Well... she didn't know jack squat about Buck so how in the frick frack did she know what he does every day? The answer is she didn't, until Eddie told her.

Again, thank you for the ask and I hope my response added further credence to the important roles Buck and Eddie have in each other's lives.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley

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aquadestinyswriting · 5 months

Text

By Any Other Name

Summary: Meredith finally loses her temper after a Lord on the Fangthane Council continues to us a name and title she is deeply uncomfortable with after being told not to

Words: 624

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @sparrow-orion-writes-orion-writes,@warriorbookworm, @odysseywritings, @blind-the-winds , @thesorcerersapprentice ,@writeblrcafe , @ashirisu, @flashfictionfridayofficial

Warnings: None.

Notes: this is more or less directly followed by 'What's in a Name?'. This just gives more context as to what Yoruk is despairing about there.

"Lady Copperheart!" I freeze and glance around for the tell-tale jangle of jewellery or a snide remark from somewhere nearby before I finally realise that the call was, in fact, meant for me. I take a breath to calm the flare of annoyed anger in my heart before turning in the direction the voice had come from.

The middle-aged dwarven merchant now standing before me is gazing at me with a befuddled confusion. I take another moment to school my expression, lifting the glare from my face a little. Despite my repeated requests not to call me by that accursed name, several members refuse to discontinue old habits. Actually, I'm fairly certain the man now asking me some inane question about the budgetary report for the Church Inquisition is one of those who take great delight in deliberately ignoring such requests. I listen, politely, and answer his question in the same manner. I'm just about to take my leave, when he decides to make one last comment;

"In future, High Inquisitor, you would do well to acknowledge the other members of the Council the moment they call for you." He remarks, "I'd also advise you to refrain from glaring at them as though they've done wrong." He adds with an imperious sniff.

It takes all the willpower I have not to punch him, never mind keeping my expression as neutral as possible. I manage a tight smile,

"My apologies, Lord Stenskärare, but I am quite sure I have previously requested that the Council refer to me by Gruksdottir where possible." I tell him. The nobleman scoffs and shakes his head, sneering at me,

"Refusing to acknowledge the prestige of a House you now belong to is a dishonour to your husband." He snaps, "Then again, I wouldn't expect a peasant girl like you to know anything about that."

It's a very good thing for Lord Stenskärare that we weren't the only people still in the antechamber of the meeting room. I dread to think of what might have occurred were we alone. As it is, I do finally lose my temper. I’m not really all that aware of what I yell at him, I only know that I’m swearing in at least four different languages and he doesn’t understand the majority of them. I only stop when Captain Bloodvein finally shoves me out one door and gets one of his guard to shove Lord Stenskärare through another. I’m still fuming even as I apologise to His Majesty, Her Highness and Captain Bloodvein and storm out of the palace.

It's not that I don't want to acknowledge the honour and legacy of the Copperheart name – by all accounts, the late Captain Copperheart was a highly regarded Kingsguard – but I cannot rid myself of the memory of her every time I hear that name and title in combination with one another. There are just too many bad memories associated with it. Especially given everything she did during her relatively short reign of terror, which the entire Council are aware of. I did go into great detail in my report to King Storri once all was said and done. It's ridiculous, she's gone for good, locked in the deepest recesses of the Pit for the rest of eternity. By all rights I should be glad to reclaim the honour that the title deserved this whole time. And yet.

It's no good. I'll either have to talk to Yoruk about changing the name, or just learn to live with the dread that climbs up my spine every time I'm in a damned Council Session. In the meantime I think Uncle Snorri's boiler needs bashing back into shape, I can practically hear the thing chugging and sputtering from here.

#aquadestinyswriting #flash fic friday #writeblrcafe #titan fighting fantasy #meredith gruksdottir

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thekoopalingsandstuffs · 5 months

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>Right after school<

Rango: "Something that happened yesterday..."

Hariet: "What happened yesterday?"

Rango: "... I don't wanna talk about it..."

Spewart: *Feels bad* :< "... Hey Rango?"

Rango: "Wha-...!! Are we almost home???"

Spewart: "Uhhh... Sorta! Just three more minutes or so!! Why...?"

Rango: "I gotta go to the bathroom!!!"

Spewart: "Oh!! Um..."

Spewart: "Rango... Buddy, are you okay?"

Rango: "No."

Spewart: :< "... Listen, I think that maybe you should consider going to the doctor... Something is clearly wrong, and I don't want to see you suffering..."

Rango: "I know that..." *Rolls over to face Spewart* "... Have Hariet or Topper said anything...?"

Spewart: "I don't think so... I told them to go clean the backseat and leave you alone for a bit, so I don't think-"

Rango: "Wha-"

Spewart: "Enlarged prostate...? Sis, isn't he a bit young for that??"

Hariet: "Maybe. But it's still a possibility!! Anyways, some potential explanations for why you are-"

Spewart: "I'm pretty sure Rango has a UTI."

Hariet: "What?? No, don't be ridiculous!! I'm never wrong about these sorts of things!!"

Hariet: "You don't just develop incontinence overnight, dumbass!"

Topper: "Well, maybe he's always had it, but it just got worse due to some kind of trigger?"

Spewart: "I still think a UTI is the most viable explanation. It's temporary, comes out of nowhere, and can 100% explain what's happening!"

Hariet: "The average UTI isn't bad enough to cause what just occurred in the van!!"

Topper: "A UTI and urgency incontinence are both way more likely than a goddamn enlarged prostate..."

Hariet, Spewart, & Topper: *Start arguing*

Rango: "Woahwoahwoah--How the hell do you guys even know about all this stuff?!?!"

Rango: "Wha... But..."

Hariet: "We're just trying to help you, bro!"

Rango: "But... Topper, why do YOU want to help?? I mean, after all I've done to you..."

Topper: "Look, you have done some shitty things in the past, but having something wrong with your body is absolutely not a laughing matter. Nobody deserves something like... This. So... Of course I want to help! Not to mention, we don't need ANOTHER person in this house with bladder issues..."

Rango: "................" *Regretting everything he has ever done to Topper* :{

Spewart: "When Auntie gets back, I'll ask her to schedule you a doctor's appointment, okay?"

Rango: "Okay!!"

Hariet: "Don't expect to get an appointment anytime soon, though, since we're right around the holidays... And also, statistically, Fall-Winter time has the most doctor's office visits scheduled for illness and injuries, so it's going to be super busy and-"

Topper: "Hariet. Shush."

Hariet: >:[

Spewart: "Whatever it is that's troubling you, we'll be supporting and helping you every step of the way, okay?"

Rango: "Alright!!!" *Happy squeak*

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sakunataa · 7 months

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Since I was in middle school, Yandere Simulator has been a favorite game of mine. I started following and later playing the game at a period when I was having trouble being who I truly was and starting to like darker things. Although the game occasionally made me feel frightened (what I get for playing it so young, lol), with time, I came to appreciate it for what it was because of its dark, atmospheric nature.

I chose to get into darker media after I started watching gameplay for other games on YouTube. I noticed that there was more substance to it, and that there were more people who enjoyed it. So? Yandere Simulator has become my obsession, and I've made the decision to immerse myself in the community. I got to meet many other people, one in particular who helped me realize my dreams.

YandereDev himself.

A man with whom I don't speak to very often. But when I do, it's genuinely like meeting a famous person; I get the honor of actually speaking to my idol. Even if he occasionally becomes dissatisfied and frustrated with his own endeavors, this responsible, knowledgeable man loves his audience and what he does. He made it possible for me to understand that I have the ability to turn my passions into reality, even with just reading his WordPress posts and playing his game. I haven't regretted a single message I've sent him, and I only feel joy when he approaches me first. Even if we aren't close, I'm just glad to have met him.

And so when the recent drama came about, that's when I realized I had to solidify my decision.

Imagine that you are me and that you suddenly notice the most recent instances crop up at midday when you wake up. You then instantly head to WordPress to see if you can find out more information. Of course, it was certainly a surprise.

But the message I read was the most straightforward and honest I've ever seen. Well-written. Well-stated. And very sincere.

Admitting these kinds of things is difficult, especially if the public already holds unfavorable views of you and has done so for a long time. Making a game is challenging enough; having people laugh and point at you because of made-up disputes and faux accusations may make it seem nearly impossible.

He isn't a "failure of a human being" or a "sick bastard who doesn't deserve anything." He's human, just like the rest of us, and I refuse to put down another fellow human being.

He needs all support he can get during these trying times more than ever. It would be unacceptable of me to turn against him or use abusive language toward him. Everyone is making every effort to put the events that have occurred behind them. We can't keep clinging to the past because if we do, we won't be able to go on and develop the capacity to support others who have admitted very private things.

Because what you're doing right now is instigating more and more drama on top of drama. And that isn't fair.

I'm sick of holding grudges against people and never forgiving them. I will be blocking anyone who wants to bother me about it. Even if I am just another name in the crowd, I will continue to support Dev and his game. When I've struggled, his game has always been there for me. I can't just stand by and let this happen while being able to step in and lend a supportive hand.

Thank you YandereDev for everything. And thank you for developing Yandere Simulator.

#♡ sakuspeaks ♡

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ivyveil · 2 years

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Eddie & the Hideout

the one where Y/N accidentally leads Eddie to believe she's dating Robin and also it's my first time posting fanfic in over 4 years so let's just give it a go?

genre: fluff, slight angst (teens!!), minors sipping beer :/

A/N: Hi! Hello. Very weird to be back but I'm really enjoying the Eddie Munson realm of works atm and would love to jump in with some ideas/AUs. For those who don't know, I primarily have written Harry Styles works in the past so check out my masterlist <3 Be easy on me this time, just getting back on the bike. More works to come!

The air was smoky, with weed, cigars, and the aftertaste of knowing you’re too young to be somewhere but too comfortable to leave. It was the Hideout, aptly named, for on Thursday nights it held those of Hawkins High who never caused enough trouble to be kicked out, but simply needed somewhere to go that wasn’t home. Often Eddie Munson toed the lines but Reagan, the bartender, partial-owner, and one of the many parental figures you had picked up in your time, had mentioned something about his uncle Wayne calling in a favor.

Your role in the establishment was picking up odds-and-ends jobs for a bit of cash; your older cousin, who took you in when the going got rough, only made enough to barely scrape by when it came to bills. Your income allowed for a few nights out for you both, and possibly some new records depending on how much of a sale she could wiggle out of Virgin Vince at Narbo’s Vinyls down the road.

The man of the hour (or, possibly, a boy, from how he was sulking in the corner) had seen you reading against the bar, enjoying the hours before Reagan came up with things for you to do, and plopped himself a few seats down. In the realm of school, neither of you tended to speak–but you also tended to keep to yourself when your paths crossed in the Hideout, so the silence could be safely named Comfortable.

You were aware of his antics and while his outlandish personality and rocker looks tugged at some of your strings that longed to be ripped out of the standard seams of life into something exciting, passionate, and chaotic, you were held back by minor setbacks.

Never having been kissed.

Not knowing what a dick looked like up close. (Biology textbooks don’t count)

Hearing they could move on their own, and terrified at the prospect.

Lastly, and most importantly, having utterly no idea what to do with your hands in most normal situations, rendered completely useless in anything romantic. There was the one encounter you had last year when Prescott Smith tried to hold your hand during a drive-in movie night. You had pulled it back immediately, mumbling an apology and offering the popcorn up, assuming he had meant to go for that instead. He wouldn’t speak to you for the rest of the night, a drenching sense of guilt for something you hadn’t even known you did wrong clenching your fists tight on the heavy ride home.

Reagan told you that you were an idiot for that one (perhaps rightly, perhaps there was a way you could have rectified things instead of waiting for a man to suddenly read your mind) and made you clean out the men’s room after close that night, dealing with the stink and vomit, because “learnin’ men are fuckin’ disgusting even when they’re not trying” is a “part of life” and to “glean the comfort you can and leave soon after” was her advice.

So no, any serious notion of chatting with Eddie would necessitate some level of exiting a comfort zone that had done nothing but do you well so far. You remained kind, offering waters at the end of his gigs to his band but with a safe enough distance to ensure you wouldn’t be a reliable source of eye contact on his fourth Lunch Rant of the Month (you had a Bingo sheet going with Robin to try and source out some pattern of prediction to the gut-lurching, almost poetic Eddie Munson).

It occurred to you that maybe you could get him to include something about the Moon Landing in tomorrow’s, for a pint on the house. You’d have your first Bingo and Robin would owe you Cokes for the rest of the month.

“Hey.”

You were so far in thought, staring at a random page, your forearms holding the book to the bar, you completely missed Eddie’s attempt.

If you had been aware, you would’ve noticed his leg jiggling under the table, how he stole looks your way a half dozen times before turning the full amount and jerking his head up. It was half past 9, almost time for his set at 10, and usually Eddie would be in the parking lot, hyping himself up in his van. Once, you offered him some kohl eyeliner you had tried (and become frozen with the realization your reflection was a stranger and you didn’t know how to pretend) and occasionally it would play a part in his pre-show routine.

But for now, he sat, in the silence of your daydreaming and his unfamiliarity with being casual.

In the quiet, he spared a glance to the ceiling to see if Jesus would prove himself once and for all. Upon no reply, and a renewed vow to the Devil and his kinship, Eddie sighed and shook his hair out, renewing what he considered his best feature, his hand knocking against his water glass as he did so. Despite his arm crashing to be a barricade to the glass taking a trip over the bar ledge, the liquid made a fast track down the sticky wood to begin seeping onto your book.

You looked at him, this time.

“Whoops.”

Wide brown eyes, open and clear, and very apologetic, met yours.

“Hey, Y/L/N, how’s it hanging?” A second trial, Jesus’ return.

You leaned forward over the barstool to grab a server’s towel, sticking it against the sides of your book and along the cover. Your place in the text, lost against the speed in which you were trying to save it, caused you to huff, annoyed.

“I’m alright Munson, just catching up on the newest Jackie Collins ‘fore I have to cover for Reagan.”

Before Corroded Coffin’s set, Reagan often assisted in ensuring all of the amps were set up properly and the band members had actually picked out 4-5 songs to perform. It would happen occasionally that Gareth or Eddie would have a spat whether Judas Priest or Iron Maiden deserved that night’s attention, and while Reagan had time to give to drama, the antics of heavy metal teens rarely made it worth it.

“Ooh,” Eddie drawled, having picked up a secondary cloth and, seeing your novel in one shape, given the bar a half-assed pat, “You haven’t heard?”

“No, what?”

“We had to cancel tonight’s show. Jeff got the flu.” His tone wasn’t entirely monotonous, twinged with the infamous Eddie dialect, but you could tell he was fairly bummed.

You offered a weak smile, unsure entirely of how to navigate comforting someone you barely knew, but he took it in stride and moved to the seat closer to your own, clapping his hand on your jacket.

“No, no, I’ll have none of your tears Y/L/N. Save it for sadder tales, if they exist. Although some of us believe the show must go on, it’s undeniable that in the spirit of being a band, Corroded Coffin must wait another day.”

Another water glass appeared before Eddie, Reagan having moved down the bar to where you two teenagers sat, perched, leaned in to one another like friends. Your book had been moved to the side, your body resting against the bar’s edge and your knee dangerously close to where Eddie’s jeans tempted them.

“No damn reason in comin’ just to get water and not play,” she grumbled, removing the spilled glass and giving Eddie a withered, yet careful look. You had a feeling she cared more for the Munsons than she let on, but sometimes one’s past should be respectfully not yanked into light. (In other words, you were pretty sure that in another life Reagan would be Eddie’s aunt but it was a different, but similar, cavernous distance that kept you from others separating her from properly reconciling with Wayne).

“Well Reagan, I was going to see if you needed any help ‘round the place tonight. But since Y/L/N’s on shift, I’m guessing you don’t? What a gal, she’s got it covered, this one. Always on top of it.”

Reagan just shook her head, tsk’ing as she drifted back to the paying, of-age patrons.

“Thanks, Munson,” you mumbled, taking a sip of your own drink. Reagan preferred you drinking in her establishment as opposed to the “rancid-ass house parties football players gawk at their own dicks and try to fuck holes in the wall, dumping who-knows-what in whatever piss they drink” but it was strictly limited to one a night.

“No worries, never mind bigging up a fellow reader.”

“You read?” Your attention was now fully on him, and his body only rested for a moment before continuing his consistent fidgeting. His fingers, if anything, moved faster around one another, twirling ringed jewelry and picking at his nails.

“Mainly D&D stuff but occasionally I’ll knock out a Stephen King,” he said, proud to have grasped your attention–and maybe, was that a bit of respect as well? He’d take it, hook line and sinker.

From there on out, for the next twenty minutes, you two discussed bits and bobs from novels, to a few movies (neither of you had seen Terminator yet but patched together a rickety synopsis from what you’d heard), and finally dashing around to the highest commonality you both shared: high school.

You were animated, alive, raving about something that had happened at lunch a few weeks back, and Eddie’s fingers danced along his water’s condensation. He couldn’t help his captivation; a joint had made its way out during the chat, but he was still considerably sober. Completely strange that he felt a bit drunk, his feet and arms tucked into your shadow.

There had been something on his radar, something he had been meaning to ask you at some point. It was high school, there were rumors, and even though Eddie Munson was the town’s ultimate Freak and social pariah, he wasn’t immune to the chats of the hallway and whatever clips of gossip his drug clients gave forth between exchanges of cash and goods.

And so, in the moment of a sharp silence, in which you had said something about “Robin cheated at Bingo but I was certain you had said-” before rapidly cutting yourself off in an embarrassed haze of revealing too much, he ventured forward, forcing himself not to think.

“So...you and Robin...” you nodded, indicating him to continue, “Are...partners?” Eddie’s mouth twisted into something uncertain, as if he couldn’t tell if words had come out or if potentially it was you.

Your lips were around the beer’s rim again, eyes pursed before nodding. “Yeah,” your fingers dashed over lips to catch the spare liquid, “we’ve got chemistry together.”

The first day of class, when notebooks were settled neatly in the nooks of desks as if staying aligned with a wood grain could transfer to the rest of your life, had been noteably deterred by your teacher, Ms. Shannon, ominously announcing the person next to you would be your lab partner for the year. Typically teachers, in fear of some popularity loss that had the rest of the teenagers gripped until graduation, allowed for some grace period. An allowance for meeting, warming up to one another. But what was a trial run had become a year-long attachment to one Robin Buckley.

She had been pleasant enough of a lab partner, with quirks that made toiling through sheets of homework and lab reports worth the effort. Math came in as one of her strengths (something about counting and music and staffs and, quite frankly, you never had a solid sense of rhythm so you’d leave the calculations to Robin) and you had the organization to keep the pair on track. An unbeatable duo.

Yet, to your knowledge, this wasn’t entirely relevant to Eddie’s day-to-day. He had chem the previous period; actually, you were fairly sure he sat in your desk if the devil horn scratches and leftover song lyrics were any indication. “Garbanzo Smokes” and “Half-Baked Lasagna” weren’t likely to be the songs of your generation but again, you often chose to leave the musical judgments to those more inclined.

“Yeah, bet you do,” Eddie mumbled, scratches in his voice. He was looking down at the joint dangling between his fingers, several strands of his curls falling against his cheeks. He looked forlorn, very boy-ish, and a yearning in your chest brought you forward from your position curled up in the barstool.

“Why? Did you wanna see her tonight?” You couldn’t help it, the questions that spewed out of your mouth. The answers you never really wanted to know, primed before you by only your doing.

It’s strange, how two paths that deviated into one another time and time again never fully crossed until nights like this. Some other band was up on stage, some older men with heavy, wet breathing noises and dreams still too vivid to die, but it had almost sounded sweet against the rosiness of Eddie’s cheeks and the vibrations of him vehemently rapping his ring-laiden knuckles against the bar when you said your opinion on EMILY’s List.

Eddie scrunched his eyebrows, shaking his head.

“Nah, I mean-” he whirled to face you more directly, hands splayed in some form of surrender. The joint was between silver stacks on his middle and forefinger–you plucked it out to fill yourself with something other than perpetual regret.

“She seems nice. Great! Even. I just wasn’t sure, well, what she was...but I mean, I think it’s great you came. Still. To see me perform-"

"I work here."

"Even though-” Eddie had a knack for breathing through his words, inhaling as he spoke and cascading everything upon you in a rain of run-on sentence and thought-through speech –”we got cancelled on. Guess people like hearing a Springsteen regurgitation compared to genuine art.”

“I thought Jeff had the flu?”

Eddie shrugged. “Flu, Springsteen 2.0 offered Reagan an extra $20 for my spot, what’s the difference?”

You’d believe it, unfortunately; for how much hard love she’d show to the younger Munson, the Hideout wasn’t as popular as the closely named Hideaway and sometimes an Andrew Jackson was a world of difference.

“Why’d you come?”

Eddie shrugged again, his flamboyance narrowing in stature as you felt you were closing in on something he couldn’t yell his way out of.

You knew his uncle worked nights at the factory, so it could have been not wanting to stay in his trailer alone. Sense of schedule, perhaps? Waking up tomorrow and feeling it to be Friday would be massively harder if you didn’t spend the early seconds of Friday morning cleaning up half-filled pints and several shot glasses from between seat cushions. But to exist, to float around a small town where there was no true getaway, there had to be some secrecy behind purpose. You could understand that, partially, if not for your own desire sometimes to simply be completely, utterly alone.

“Y’know, Thursdays are when Reagan can sometimes slip me a few bucks more. Sometimes the band- when they’re good-” Eddie flashed you a grateful smile “brings in a few more patrons than earlier in the week. If you wanna help me wash out a few glasses, sweep up near the front, I’ll give you a cut of it,” you offered., pressing the roach of the joint into a nearby ashtray. You kept your eyes on the suffocating ember, always unsure of how men would react to acts of sympathy. Some demanded it, others abhorred. Eddie wasn’t a clear read for you, not in the slightest.

You were Prescott, your hand reached out, the popcorn in Eddie's court.

Eddie took in a deep breath, leaning back in his seat, drawing in the smoky light between you both once more. He performed a quick act of pondering the offer over, his fingers curling against his chin and a general murmuring about the semantics of his night and all his plans he would rearrange and how he hadn’t brushed up on his cleaning skills in quite a bit, before launching a hand before yours.

“Sounds like a better time than cleaning up Jeff’s puke, so count me in.”

“If someone pukes tonight, Eddie, I’m making you clean it up regardless.”

“Even better, I prefer it when it’s from a stranger.”

A/N: eddie munson i love u give me ONE chance maybe actually TWO bc we both have issues, urs being ur dead. <3 hope you guys enjoyedddd lmk what you thought here and check out my other works here xoxo

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #stranger things blurb #stranger things fanfic #mine

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