#like . was he a failure of hers is that why she. physically and verbally attacks him. yeah he steals from her but she doesnt even. like.

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

swings bat at hornets nest dot png

consistent characterization of pb is that if youre conventionally cute she will like you and pull you out of danger but if youre kinda offputting or ugly she will let bad things happen to you in front of her and she might even openly blame you for them

[flying-fangirls]

To be quite honest with y'all, one of my biggest frustrations with the Witch isn't the fact that she's portrayed as a bad person or an allegorical transphobe, but moreso with how... nasty, the responding attitude toward her is-- both in the podcast's voice and several fans' voices. I'm not saying that her hate and intolerance were totally excusable, but like. Relatively speaking-- in this podcast-- it's nowhere near the worst thing any character has done (especially in light of all the yonic/assault coding behind her character, but I won't go into that because it requires way more energy to respectfully talk about than I have rn)

Everything about Larson's background has pretty clear undertones of incest and rape, but we all still treat him as one of those "characters you love to hate" (and I'm definitely not condemning that fandom response btw, I do it too). Hell, even the podcast's voice itself portrays him as that entertainingly despicable villain. And even past Larson, let's be honest with ourselves, most main characters in this show have done incredibly fucked up stuff, such as Kayne, Arthur, and John. Still, Kayne also gets the entertaining villain treatment, and Arthur and John get praised for their imperfect nature.

The Witch though? It feels like the general response to her is unflinching disgust, a sort of "that nasty, lying bitch" attitude without any remorse or nuance. All of a sudden, harmful behaviors mean a character should only be despised, and nothing else.

And yeah sure, the Witch refused to budge from her intolerant viewpoint or whatever-- in this single conversation, after a lifetime of being taught only hate, despair, and loneliness. I don't know about y'all's experience talking to people raised in hateful environments, but it takes more than one heated conversation to change their minds. And again: no that doesn't excuse the harm they spread. But for a story that preaches the importance of giving people extended time to improve themselves from the worst of morality, even if they stumble or fuck up several times along the way? It feels entirely antithetical for this woman to get spat upon after a single impression of her.

Think about Yellow, too. Think about how he "grew up" in an environment (Arthur, then Larson) that taught him only hate and despair, which led him to be incredibly intolerant, violent, and hateful. And then think about how both the story's voice and us in the fandom treat Yellow. It's not with unflinching disgust and loud vitriol; most of us view him with sympathy, despite all the horrible things he says/does that aren't necessarily excusable, yet are understandable. Why is the Witch any different? Why does the disdain for her ring so much louder, sharper, and meaner than anyone else in this entire show? Why do we "love to hate" nearly every other antagonistic character we've met (Kellin, Butcher, Larson, Kayne, etc etc etc), but suddenly only do the "hate" half of it for this one specific character?

Why is SHE so much worse? What difference between HER and every other major onscreen character subconsciously shifted our viewpoints?

Obligatory disclaimers: Again, I don't think the Witch's physical/verbal violence was wholly excusable. I don't think anyone who dislikes the Witch is a terrible person, nor do I think Harlan or the show are terrible. I am not claiming that everyone in the fandom displays these attitudes, nor am I saying this attitude is some moral failure. This is a critical critique meant to spur critical evaluation, and not any sort of attack.

[kenah-sturniolo]

GROW OLD WITH YOU

PART 3 > you fucked up and I said sorry <

A/N: sorry for taking so long, I’ve been busy with school. Part 3! Enjoy. It’s also a shorter chapter but hopefully it’s still good. Like and reblog. But I take credit 💋

WARNINGS: use of y/n. Swearing. Mention of abuse. Abuse.

Y/n POV:

Deep inside a wounded heart, Lies the memory of a childhood start. Aching pain that won't subside, Ghosts of memories that never died. Every day feels like a fight, Darkness lurking in the light. Haunted by what was done, Haunted by what is gone.

Echoes of voices that once were near, Whispers of sadness that refuse to clear. Every step feels like a struggle, Every day seems like a juggle. But hope shall not be dead, Healing is just ahead. Courage to move through the pain, Happy childhood memories to regain. The past may have left its mark, But it won't define a life that's stark.

A bright future can still form, A new chapter can be born.

My father was my first heartbreak, My mother was my first bully. The house never felt like home, Walking on eggshells day in and day out. We were a perfect family from outside, But inside everyone was living a slow death.

You never apologized to me for hurting me, but I apologized to you 12 times for being angry about it. You fucked up — yet I said sorry.

Children don't get traumatised because they get hurt. They get traumatised because they're alone with the hurt. The abuse wasn’t new. It was old. It seemed normal — deep down I knew it wasn’t. But I was so use to it I didn’t know what normal was.

I convinced myself that panic attack, anxiety and fear of my parents was just a part of my daily life.

My brain working like clockwork, messing things around and confusing the difference between normal and what my brain thought was normal.

Sure I’ve had and have fears. Heights, spiders. yeah. Certain people. Definitely. But the fears that linger with the most pain are the ones that I could never bring myself to say out loud — not being good enough, getting attached, and that the only person i have ever been genuinely afraid of was my father.

The way he’d yelled. The way he broke things when he’d have enough. The way he’d abuse, physically, verbally, emotionally, like it was just second nature and habit to do so. He scares me shitless. The way my father says to my mother— your daughter never does what I expect her to, your daughter lets me down, your daughter does that, your daughter does this, your daughter does— your daughter— your —

like I'm not his, never his.

I don’t get why he does though. It always just starts a fight “she’s not my daughter!” My mom would yell back. The bickering would continue for hours. “Shes not mine” “she’s a disappointment” “I wish we got that stupid abortion” it just kept going. Yeah I get it- you don’t want me.

No matter how many times I’ve heard those same insults, I still feel my heart break each time. Sometimes I wish I did kill myself when I was 14. When the weight of the pain and stress got too much. I stand in front of the mirror picking at myself bit by bit until I feel like I could snap at any moment. Wishing I’d just break. That I’d confront them. Maybe even tell them how I feel.. but of course that’d never happen. I’m too scared for that.

————

This morning had been rough. Yelling, swearing — abuse. I didn’t do anything. “Bullshit” his voice rung through my mind “don’t change thee fuckin’ topic y/n!” “how are you such a failure?!”

How am I supposed to respond. He was spilling insults at me from left, right and centre.

One statement really stabbed me in the back the hardest “you’re such a time waster. Always complaining. Always being rude-“ his tone sharp, always is. He’s careless- heartless. When the tears slowly blurred my vision it just pissed him off even more.

“Pathetic.” He spat out causing more tears to stain my cheeks. He hates it when people cry, says it makes them weak. Or that it shows just how much power people have over them if they can make them cry. The hard slap to my face deepened the fear I felt towards him. He’d abused me before. Whenever he didn’t get his way — he’d take it out on me as if it were some stupid ‘coping mechanism’.

As if my life wasn’t depressing enough I found myself in the school library — again — alone. Reading, thinking, holding back emotions that’s threatened to spill out Everytime the librarian would check on me. I can’t do this anymore.

It’s all just too much. The yelling. the abuse. My family in general.

The library door creaks open. I think nothing of it. It’s probably just another kid from the robotics club coming to get or return another book. To my surprise Matt sits next to me. By instinct I look down. I don’t want him to see me. It would ruin me if he saw the red swell on my cheek.

“Hey..” his calm voice brings comfort, I keep refusing to look up at him. What will he think? That I’m some psycho loner from a crazy family. That I spend all my time reading trying to escape from the world.

“Hi…”

I keep my head down, voice gentle and my body on the verge of shaking — intensely.

He wrapped his arm around me. I’ve never been hugged before, other than by Grammy. But to be hugged by someone so sweet and caring who wasn’t family.. that’s new. Yet it’s nice- really nice.

My body gently leans into his touch. He notices the swell on my cheek and luckily doesn’t say anything. It’s like he understood I’d break down at any moment in stead all he said was a sweet “breath..it’s just a bad day- not a bad life..” it comforted me.. but he doesn’t know the truth. God it is a bad life. A really bad one.

I tried to focus on him but my mind kept circling back to this morning. The way my now dad hurt me. The way he fucked up. And the way I said sorry.

Nearly had me in tears.

A/N: sorry again for not posting when I said I would. Let me know if you wanna be tagged and thanks for reading.

Mini tag list: @nicks-bubbles @ed1tssturnn @mattspillowprincess @sturns-mermaid @emely9274 @viviansturns @humpster35 @chrepsi @slvt4subchratt @secretaccountx5 @starrii-sturns

[cissyenthusiast010155]

I Need You, Alan ~Ellie Sattler x Alan Grant (Grantler)

Summary— Ellie Sattler finds herself in a difficult marriage after all these years with kids to take care of. One night it just all gets to be too much, so the woman turns to her lifelong, old friend Dr. Alan Grant who always seems to be there for the woman when she needs it.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: anxiety, panic, implied panic attack, talk to abuse, talk of verbal abuse, talk of physical abuse, comforting, happy ending?, etc.

Enjoy (;

Loud. That was all that Ellie could register at this point. Her vision began to blur, whether it was from the impending tears or the impending dizziness, she couldn’t tell. Probably both. She wanted to press the palms of her hands to her ears, try to block out the booming voice. She hated when he did this. Her husband would come home from work and just go off on her. Just start yelling. It would be like that off and on the entire evening. She would put her best foot forward and greet him with a smile, and she would get berated. She would have his laundry folded and put away, and still get shouted at. She would serve him dinner and still get screamed at.

Ellie wasn’t surprised that he’d start going off on her, but deep down she always hoped that he would just come home one day and stop all together. Tragic right? But everyday, her husband would come home and he’d fall back into that all familiar pattern of hollering. Shock was the first thing she’d feel. Then came the anger coursing through her veins like a lit fuse. But every time the anger would be quickly pushed aside by fear, worry, and guilt. The fear lived in her mind, he had a talent for cultivating that in her. He’d put the fears of failure, and abandonment, and neglect, and anything that would hook the woman into her mind. The worry lived in her body. Tremors were something she was accustomed to, a result of the amount of worry weighing on her shoulders. The guilt lived in her gut and in her throat. And he knew how to ramp those up oh so well.

He made her feel so stupid. According to him, Ellie did nothing right. For the 17 years of their marriage, she couldn’t do a single thing right. According to her husband, she was incompetent. She felt her knees start to get weak, start to shake and she felt a lump in her throat. She couldn’t look him in the eyes as tears began to flow. She hated crying in front of him. He’d just laugh at her, or worse, he’d completely ignore it. She hated his condescending, commanding, demanding tone. It shook her to her core. It made her feel so small. It made her not dare say a word back to him. He always had the last word. Always.

After a while, all the yelling blurred together. Ellie knew what he liked to continually say. Why can’t you be a better wife?! You are such a disappointment! You’re lucky I’ll take you, no one else would have someone like you!! And whatever bullshit he could get her to believe. She managed a shallow breath as terrified chills ran down her spine. She was frozen. She was always frozen. She tried to focus on the good… At least he wasn’t hitting her. On bad days, he could get physical, and today, from what she could gather, seemed like a day where he just wanted to let off some steam yelling wise. But it was hard to tell. It was hard to expect what he’d do. And that terrified her.

By the time Ellie managed to get away from his grasp for the night, she was shaking as she stood outside fumbling with the keys to the minivan. She drove with a pit in her stomache. She knew she’d have to return. She knew she didn’t have that long. She just drove and drove, unsure as to where exactly she was headed. Until she reached a line of apartments. She managed to get out of the car as she staggered through the halls. Her ears were still ringing. Her vision still blurred. Her body trembled. She walked up to the door of a particular apartment that practically looked abandoned. She anxiously fidgeted at the doorway, unsure if this was a good idea. There was no going back if she did this. With the last bit of strength in her, she knocked on the door. Alan Grant opened with a soft smile that quickly contorted downwards at the sight of the woman.

“Ellie?”

“It’s George…” she stammered, breathless, dazed, and confused.

Ellie didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know how else to explain driving across town and showing up at her friend’s house at such an ungodly hour. Where was she supposed to start? What was she supposed to say? She hadn’t thought that she’d get this far. But something seemed to register with Alan, a resonating glint in his eye allowed the broken woman to sigh in relief.

“I see. Please come in.”

Somehow Alan always understood. He led Ellie inside, guiding her to take a seat before providing some light snacks and refreshments for the poor woman to catch her breath. While Ellie was still vibrating with nerves, she found comfort in her old friend’s presence. She didn’t know much, but what she did know was that talking to Alan was the right thing to do. Alan would understand.

~~~

Ellie Sattler Masterlist ~Coming Soon (;

Alan Grant Masterlist ~Coming Soon (;

[freedom-shamrock]

How much salt do you think a salt fic should have before it becomes too unpleasent to read?

Great question! First, it's important to note that different people are going to have different salt tolerances, some folks just want a little for flavoring while others want the whole dang salt shaker. But there is a happy medium that most can agree on as pleasant to read.

Next we need to define salt. Because it's slang and it gets used (and misused) to mean a lot of things. One need not go out of character (OC) and full evil to be salt. Salt/salty has to do with being upset, angry, bitter, or hostile. Some people require these feelings to be associated with embarrassment, failure, being attacked or out of place in order to be considered salt, but most people (myself included) don't require this qualifier.

To be a salt fic, these salty feelings need to be the driving theme of the story. This can be realistic, exaggerated, or wildly unrealistic. You can keep the characters as canon as possible or go massively OC.

In my Saltinette story the goal was to be realistic and stick with canon as much as possible. As a result it's on the lower end of salt options for this situation. To increase the salt content, I had Marinette decide to leave school and let go of her friendships. It's a somewhat nuclear option for her academic and social life, but it's also something both my kids have had to do as a result of bullying.

In the follow-up story, Treading in the Brackish Pool, shows a lot of those salty feelings, this time from Marinette's former classmates once she's left. Again, the goal was to stay realistic and close to canon, which meant I had to explain how and why the classmates made the decisions that ultimately pushed Marinette away. I wanted to avoid making them actively evil; they're just young and a little ignorant on social stuff.

That last bit highlights where things tend to cross into too much salt to be a satisfying story. Taking a canonically kind character and making them a psychopath will definitely increase salt, but without any explanation or set up, it's going to feel wildly OC and a lot less pleasant to a larger number of people. But it can work if you set it up right.

A lot of people who write heavy Miraculous salt make Alya an active bully. In some cases this works because it's built up over time (starting with disappointment, moving to chastising or ridicule before verbal bullying and finally physical bullying). In other cases, there's no groundwork or authorial hand waving to explain how Alya went from being kind, confident, and maybe a little pushy to being okay with assault or murder. Adrien also often gets an evil makeover in heavy salt. If the author takes the time to build up Adrien's corruption from the Miraculous or a two-faced nature like his father (Paris' sweetheart in public vs controlling asshole in private) it can work really well. But a lot of times he's just OC with no justification, which will make it appeal to a smaller audience.

I think it's essential to remember that fans of a show generally like the characters. Yeah, they may not love all the characters, but you're not going to watch something that focuses on characters you hate. When you warp characters into something they aren't, the story risks losing some of its broader appeal. The more popular a character is with the audience the easier it is to step into the realm of too much salt. The same can be said for the amount of canon material for a character. If they are a major character, it's easier to go too salty. If you want to go heavy salt, setting it up as an AU or taking the time to show how the characters grew from canon into something else will help. Failure to do either of these will result it a reduced audience appeal.

Did that answer you or did I go wildly around the question? Let me know! Thanks for asking

[shadow13dickpistons]

Some Jumbled Thoughts on Self-Inserts and Childhood Abuse

Over twenty years ago, in the very early days of my fanfic career, I had a self-insert, the only true one I ever had. A lot of early original characters shared my first name, because I wasn't that creative and happened to like it, but I wouldn't call those true self-inserts. Some of them were ideas of a future I might like to have, but they didn't reflect my age or the life I was escaping from in my writing.

But one did. I won't go into intimate detail, but my one little self-insert was the long-lost daughter of a particular superhero, who, upon reuniting, worked through feelings of abandonment, and then became her own vigilante, The Shadow (and the source of my username, I believe, though maybe that came first, I honestly can't remember). I wasn't particularly into superheroes, and I'm still not, but happened to have a dream with this subject, and inspiration struck. (Content warning ahead: some non-graphic details of my abuse.)

I stopped writing shortly after being told what a Mary Sue she was, but it wasn't as if most fics didn't get started and subsequently abandoned (in some ways, little has changed). But oh, the elaborate, emphatic life she lived inside my heart for years, until shame made me erase her from my mind as much as possible. It wasn't just having had a self-insert who was also a Mary Sue. There were interpersonal reasons.

I wrote a lot in my childhood diary about how much I wanted to escape my life, and particularly my father. We had been always very close, and achieving this closeness again I think was the biggest source of shame for me. I wanted to forget I had tried to replace him in my fantasies.

I had a gobsmack moment last night, though, relieving old thoughts. I fell into a hole recently, watching some shows that were a mainstay of my early adolescence, and I started to be taken back to that time. It struck me just how understandable that child's feelings were. It was the high water mark of abuse in my life. I was verbally and mentally abused by my sixth grade teacher. My parents were aware of this. In fact, it was actually a personal dislike of my mother, an employee of the school, that was the motive behind this woman's attacks towards me. Mom felt like she couldn't intervene, since she was an employee, something she realized later was a failure on her part.

That only primed me for what was to come. Now used to being singled out and made to suffer, I became the target for not just verbal and mental punishments, but physical abuse from a friend at the time. I'd be locked into closets. Duct taped to chairs. Held underwater, or fingers purposely injured. Apparently Mom knew about this, too. I tried to open up to her, in college, about the abuse I suffered, only to be told that I had let her know when it was going on at the time. Why she didn't intervene, I don't know.

But Mom's poor mental and physical health often made my father and I victims of her tempers, too, so maybe she couldn't have protected me in any case. That does lead to the next question, where was my father in all this?

I can only speculate why he failed to act. Preoccupation with physical ailments, one of which led to surgery. He was also vice president of the union at the time, and I think preoccupied with that over parenting me. When he was present, his temper was not steady. Rather than exploring why his daughter might suddenly be doing poorly in school for the first time in her life, he often acted in ways that were at best poor in judgment, at worst, continuations of my abuse. That one I won't elaborate on.

The teacher he knew, I can only speculate why he didn't intervene. The friend, he didn't, I found out much later. Why Mom didn't share that, I can't guess. As for his poor treatment of me...I've brought it up. He doesn't remember it. That's lucky for him, I guess.

I've had to spend a lot of time dealing with my anger that when I most needed my parents, they completely failed me. And for the first time in my life, I understood how that girl felt, and why she wanted that new father (mothers did not enter into it, perhaps because it's usually widowed fathers featured in media). In that relationship, the girl was not berated, but understood. She was protected, not lifted up by her shirt collars and yelled at. She could be safely vulnerable, but also in the guise of her alter ego, she was capable of protecting herself, as well as others. Dear God, she deserved so much understanding.

If I picked up those long-forgotten threads and tried to weave a new narrative, it wouldn't be the same. It's not something I would publish, as even at the time, it wasn't particularly good storytelling. And it's not that I don't understand the side of those who accuse poor form from self-inserts and "Mary Sues." I've read plenty of fics that weren't great storytelling, and that's certainly what I'm after as a reader.

But if you have someone in your soul who needs to speak to you? Let them out anyway. I wouldn't necessarily recommend publication, because I don't think that's safe. But let them out, and if you have someone to share them with - do.

[galahadenough]

I finally put together a review of Loki (TV Series). I've always been a huge Marvel fan, a huge MCU fan, but this show was horrific to me. Especially since I saw the show through to the end, I wanted to write a review for the main reviewing websites. I want this side to be heard. All it took was an immense amount of rage to get me to write reviews!

I’m planning on posting it on imdb, Rotten Tomatoes, and google reviews. So far I’ve gotten errors and issues with RT and google, and I’m hoping it doesn’t get lost on imdb. Any other places to leave reviews?

It took me a while to write this. I had to calm down a lot to make it coherent. Then I had to figure out how to condense it. I felt like a review should be my main points, but it took a lot of editing to get it down this much. (Then I had to make an edited version because google has much smaller word limits).

Thanks a lot @iamnmbr3. Your blog was the first one I found on the topic and it was a huge help. The show felt off from the first episode, but I couldn’t figure out why. Your analysis on the show really helped me to verbalize what I was feeling.

Review (except shorter on google):

As a huge MCU fan, I found the show to be intolerable. The plot was slow with way too much filler for the length of the show, and much of the filler felt purposeless. They could have deleted entire scenes or plot points without changing much if any of the story. The creators deliberately made the aesthetic average and mundane, which didn’t pair well with the underwhelming plot. The show relied heavily on slapstick humor, almost all of which was directed at the title character in a manner that encouraged laughter at his pain and stupidity. It would have been better suited for a cartoon, but it would be a cruel cartoon.

The TVA was presented as the better of two evils despite it being a totalitarian organization utilizing genocide and torture, both physical and mental. It felt very reminiscent of the book 1984 with the Thought Police, but the TVA was never truly represented as evil. Not one character opposed them as a hero or from a moral standpoint. All opposition came from a personal or self-serving motive. I’m not wanting every character to be brilliantly moralistic. That would be boring. But you don’t set up an organization like the TVA and say that they are providing a good and needed service, which was the idea the series was based on and ended on.

Mobius has a personality that is very easy to like, but he is very much complicit with the TVA. He happily 'does his job' of genocide and torture. He is Loki's captor, but we are informed he is his friend. When he isn't actively using physical or mental manipulation and torture, he is deriding and mocking him. There was nothing to indicate that they were friends outside of being told that is true. Mobius was never used as a villain by the show despite him fitting the mold well, but he also never has a redemption arc that would have made him a good hero. His reason for working against the TVA is because they lied to him, not because there is any moral reason. His change in alliances happened without much buildup, no gradual discovery throughout the series.

Sylvie felt like a caricature of a character, with very little to her personality other than grit. I was very bored with her. She was a tough, strong, and perfect character that lacked any other depth or nuance. She was called “terrifying” for being female, which felt horrifyingly sexist. She was yet another source of derision and mocking towards Loki.

Loki, the character, was very poorly written. He has always had a great deal of emotional depth that makes him interesting. He was acted with a range from extreme subtlety to riveting explosions of emotion in previous movies. His past is filled with good and bad choices, made with good and bad intentions. He was the villain who tried to be a hero and the hero who tried to be a villain. They took all that away and made him a side character in his own show who had little to no effect on the plot.

For abilities, he lacked his usual physical fighting prowess. He did very little magic, seeming awed when others used magic. His personality and mannerisms changed drastically. His gestures and expressions in this show were over the top and felt clownish, especially for a character that is known for his subtlety. He felt hyperactive and painfully eager to please everyone. His character is known for his manipulations, but his method of 'manipulation' here is to inform others that he is 'ten steps ahead' of them and is going to trick them. I don’t think that’s a good method of manipulation? Plus, the only effect he had on the plot was to slow down the other characters through his bumbling failures.

In addition, Loki was almost always the target of cruelty. This entire show felt like it was made to mock this character. They used every opportunity to tell us, and Loki, how terrible Loki is. How he is irredeemable and incapable of change. That he is a narcissist, which is inaccurate, and that any Loki is inherently untrustworthy. From birth, I suppose. Physical attacks, such as the slow-motion punch and the time loop where he was repeatedly kicked in the crotch, made me cringe. This show encouraged the enjoyment of cruelty.

As a last point, the show used the idea of representation to draw in viewers while avoiding having actual representation. The show was lauded as being good for bisexual and genderfluid representation. From what I’ve heard, the genderfluid representation was a mark on Loki’s paperwork, which you would need to pause at just the right moment to see. Plus, that makes the “terror” at a female Loki make even less sense. The bisexual representation was shown through a single word, and the character was only shown to be so when they made an entire show to mock and belittle him. That is not good representation.

I was very excited for this show, as well as for the next phase of the MCU. This has left me very disappointed and disheartened. I may not be entirely finished with the MCU, but this is the first part of the series that has killed my excitement for future releases. I get a sinking feeling when I hear about future projects now. I have enjoyed debating creative choices before, but this is not simply creative choices. It is too much cruelty, combined with poor writing and a lack of continuity.

[itsclydebitches]

"They got to that island because of a very long line of bad choices and the characters’ development doesn’t have anywhere to go if this entire, massive tragedy is shrugged away with, “Those dastardly villains, huh? Too bad they bested us. But at least we did everything we could and things would definitely be worse if we hadn’t made those exact choices.”" - Honestly? I’ve lost so much faith in RT I won’t believe it until it happens.

I do feel that, anon. truly. Honestly though, I think one of the reasons why I’m (maybe?) a little more optimistic about future content than some other critics is because RWBY keeps raising the stakes and the writer in me keeps going, “Okay this is a totally different situation now and simply must generate some actual reflection. That last mistake didn’t, but this new mistake is even worse, so surely it will succeed where the past plot failed.”

To better explain what I mean:

The group steals the Lamp and its password, draw their weapon on Qrow, then verbally and physically assault Ozpin with Oscar along for the ride. This behavior is nothing like what we’ve seen from them before, so surely we’re going to see them grappling with this.

Okay, I understand what the fandom is saying about them needing time and how being out in the snow or hunted by Apathy isn’t the time for self-reflection. I don’t like how long the reconciliation has been pushed, but I expect for this to go somewhere once they reach Argus.

Right. That... never happened. But now the group has stolen military property, tested Kingdom relations, and ignited a massive grimm attack against Argus. They weren’t willing to acknowledge their mistakes when they were purely personal and associated almost entirely with Ozpin, but now their mistakes have actively caused harm to hundreds of innocents. Here’s where the reflection has to start.

They’ve been arrested! Finally, here we go…

…ah.

Okay, so hurting Ozpin and Oscar didn’t resonate with them and neither did endangering a city, but now they’re literally in the same position Ozpin was, trying to decide whether they’ll put their faith in a flawed ally, or keep their secrets safe out of an abundance of caution. Ruby chooses the latter. She’s never so fully embodied the “villainous” position, as she seems to define it, with the plot forcing her to see things from Ozpin’s perspective. Until now, the group could twist facts and push justifications to paint themselves as unquestionably in the right, but these situations are just too similar for them to ignore. Look, Yang and Oscar are questioning this decision!

…why is Qrow telling Ruby she’s nothing like Ozpin?

Why are Jaune, Yang, and Nora ignoring Ren’s points to focus on how closed off he supposedly is?

Cool, cool that was all terribly written but now, now, the impact of those mistakes are off the charts. The group denounced one of their last allies to the entire world in a message that, by all accounts, should send Remnant into turmoil. Penny is dead partly due to the foolish wish they made. The Kingdom of Atlas is gone. All its surviving citizens are refugees and are currently being eaten by grimm. The entire team essentially died falling through that void. The personal, the professional, and history repeating itself… none of that clued the group into the mistakes they’ve made lately. But this? This is bigger than anything the show has ever done before. Unless they somehow doom all of Remnant in Volume 9, there’s no way for the stakes to get any higher or the consequences of their missteps to get any more deadly. If losing a fifth of the established world and dying on the job doesn’t clue them in that they maybe some bad choices were made, nothing will.

Which is what I keep saying each Volume lol. But it’s because the plot keeps getting more insane. Seriously though, this time we seem to have hit top tier consequences. This is the end of the line, so to speak. If RT can’t have the group properly reflect after this level of failure and tragedy, I don’t think the plot can raise the stakes any more to generate further, “Okay, but this time…” responses from me.

[softykooky]

sanctuary: six

summary: leaving your father was easy. leaving them? well...that’s a different kind of strength. 7.9k words.

genre: mafia au, fluff, major angst

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings:  toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, reader goes to therapy, hurt, argument/yelling, the boys are mean...

author’s note: i made you guys wait long enough hehe :) hope you like it, please let me know what you think! and please take notice of the warnings!! they are there for a reason <3

♡ series masterpost ♡

Your nightmares have gotten better...somewhat. Better in the sense that you don’t let them carry over as much to the next day. Better in the sense that now, there are seven smiling faces that greet you every morning to help the fear dissolve. But they still relent as strong as ever, and make you toss and turn every single night with no pity. 

They’ve gotten more frequent since that meeting with your father. More vivid. Some nights, your nightmares are so bad that you just end up migrating over to Taehyung’s room right next to you and sleeping on the edge of the bed (though you just end up wrapped around each other in the morning). Taehyung never bats an eye. Only opens the side of his thick duvet for you to crawl into and flicks on a lamp because he knows you don’t like the dark after a nightmare. 

Tonight is no different. From the other side of the wall, Taehyung can hear your pained whimpers and mumbles that he can barely make out. Your sheets rustle as your body protests the vivid dream, and he can’t help but to bolt out of his comfortable position to check up on you. You’re still deep in restless sleep when he opens the door and approaches your bed. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, please wake up”, he soothes, caressing the side of your face with one hand. “It’s just a dream.”

The yellowing bruise on your cheek has begun to fade, but it still makes their blood boil every time they catch sight of it. Seeing it right now makes Taehyung want to burn the entire city down and your father along with it. But he is here for you. And Taehyung (and the other six) cannot be anything but soft towards you. 

“Baby, wake up”, he says again, louder this time and it makes you begin to stir out of sleep. You quiet at the contact of his skin but your eyes remain closed and that fitful frown is still on your face. Taehyung doesn’t know that his mere presence brings you comfort. Even when you’re not conscious. 

He takes the authority to nestle under the covers next to you and it’s as if your body just naturally gravitates to his, tucking yourself into his arms like a linking puzzle piece. It’s a selfish reason, and Taehyung doesn’t want to tell anyone, though he has a feeling the guys already know and also share his belief. But he secretly treasures the moments that he gets with you, even if it is for a heartbreaking reason such as nightmares. 

He loves the feeling of your body next to his, and the blankets that get just a little too overheated because the both of you are human furnaces. He loves the gentle thud of your heartbeat on those nights that he holds you closer than normal, when you shake like a leaf through your dreams and he is your tether to the ground. 

And to think, just a while ago he was yelling at you from the other side of the wall, complaining about your loud crying. He wants to go back in time and kick himself. Taehyung’s scared. He’s never really cared for someone like this before. 

You are already safely stowed away in his wide chest when a shadow walks by the room. Taehyung is not surprised when Yoongi creaks the bedroom door open, and not surprised when he sees Jimin in tow. 

“We heard her all the way from upstairs.” Yoongi mutters through a yawn. Jimin just sighs and looks at your sleeping figure with concern and longing. The two men shuffle into the room and as Jimin lifts up the blanket to flank your other side, Yoongi sets himself at the foot of the bed. Not that any of them lacked space, of course. The boys made sure your room was properly equipped with a large California king. 

“It’s been getting worse. I don’t know what to do. I want to help her, but I-” 

Taehyung finds himself getting choked up through his words. They all feel the same way. It’s just that there’s been too many nights where he’s had to hold your broken pieces together while you scream out the ghosts of what has happened to you. If it’s too much to bear for the seven of them, looking from the outside, they can’t imagine how it must feel for you. 

Jimin reaches over, your body nestled between the two of them, and inserts his hand inside Taehyung’s, caressing the thumb back and forth of his skin. 

“I guess all we can do is be here on the nights that are difficult.” Yoongi tilts his head so that he’s looking at you, still drifting off in your dream with a pained expression on your face.

“She’ll get through this. She’s strong.” 

The words that Yoongi whispers into the night air of your bedroom are hopeful. Uncharacteristic for a man like him, but when it comes to you, optimism is the only choice. He’ll allow himself to have hope if it’s for you. 

The four of you fall back into shallow sleep, and time passes by differently when it’s night time and your bones cry for rest. They fall in and out of consciousness for a minute or a couple hours, none of them are sure. All they can focus on is their worry, and you continue to battle through your war of bad dreams. Jimin and Taehyung awaken again when you begin to stir.

You quiver like you’re cold, even when you’re sandwiched in between two warm bodies and they both snuggle in to hold you even closer. But you remain lost to your nightmare and begin to cry tears that drip down and dampen the fabric of Taehyung’s pajama shirt. He knows you’ll apologize profusely for that in the morning, but he couldn’t give less of a damn about his shirt. The feeling of you crying in his arms makes him feel like an utter failure. 

Jimin wipes away the wet trail that the tear left behind on your skin, and wants to cry himself. He doesn’t know how to take your pain away, and wants to scream because sleep is the only time where you can truly rest and the universe deprives you of even that. 

“I’m so sorry, princess. We’re here.” He whispers to your unhearing ears. “We’ll be here.”

When your cries begin to get loud and your muttering becomes pained, the door is softly opened again. This time, it reveals a wide-awake Jungkook and a not so awake Hoseok. Yoongi rolls his eyes but can’t help the fond smile that paints his lips. 

“Jungkook, I told you to stop staying up so late playing video games.” he whisper-scolds, and Jungkook looks sheepish in the lowlight of your bedroom. They’re not surprised by his late night antics by any means, and they’re also not surprised that he abandoned them to check up on you. They all know Jungkook has an unreasonably tender spot for you. 

“Is it her dreams again?”, Hoseok says, pure worry leaking out of every word and staring at your impossibly small self in Taehyung’s hold. There’s no annoyedness in his tone. They’re all just deathly concerned about you. 

Pushing Hoseok inside the room and quietly closing the door behind him, Jungkook situates himself on the loveseat next to the bed, while Hoseok just plops on the plush rug, snatching a throw pillow and tucking it under his head. Jimin sweeps a stray hair away that had fallen into your face. 

Though they’re all trying to close their eyes and sleep, they all know that tonight will be a restless one. If you are not peacefully sleeping, they won’t be able to either. And it seems that that statement applies to all of them, when not even 10 minutes pass until Namjoon and Seokjin make their way to your bedroom, for the same reason as the other five. They wordlessly set out pillows and blankets on the floor beside your bed, nestling into each other for warmth and hoping that you can feel their sincerity even in sleep. And if anyone could see them now: big, bad mafia bosses cuddling together to help you through a night of bad dreams, Bangtan would force them to sign non-disclosure agreements. For you though, they could do this for hundreds of nights. 

When all seven are there, you miraculously slumber peacefully through the night. For the first time since Taehyung crept into your room, you are resting comfortably, quiet and undisturbed. And when you start snoring, Taehyung wants to cry with sheer relief. It was as if your subconscious vied for the presence of all the boys, and now that you have it, they finally allow themselves to drift off as well. 

The last thing you expected when you woke up this morning was to be dripping in sweat and much too aware of the extra three bodies on the bed with you. Ones you don’t remember going to sleep with last night. You have no recollection, just remembered that you went to sleep alone and now the seven men you’ve grown far too fond of were in the room with you, still snoozing the day away. 

At the foot of your bed, Yoongi stretches his limbs and groans when the sunlight peaks through the curtains into his eyes. He squints away the sleep and smiles dopily at you from under a blanket. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the way you practically melt at just his gaze. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” His throaty morning voice makes you blush two shades of red. 

“Good morning”, you whisper back, not wanting to wake any of them up. They just look so adorable and so completely exhausted. Yoongi bets that all of them would rather forfeit their positions as mafia bosses before telling you it’s because they stayed up all night worrying about you. “Um…”, you murmur, eyes darting around the room, “why are you all in here?” 

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to admit how whipped they actually are for you. 

“You were...having bad nightmares. So we wanted to come make sure you were okay.” 

Your eyes widen at Yoongi’s confession, and it reminds you of when Namjoon had done the same for you all those nights ago. It makes your heart ache and bloom at the same time because well..no one’s really cared enough to do something like this for you. Something so simple yet significant. You blink away the mistiness in your eyes, looking around the room once again. 

Three of them are on your bed. The rest are distributed across the floor and Jungkook’s slung uncomfortably on a chair. When you look back at Yoongi, it seems like he already knows all the thoughts running through your head. He already knows the words you want to say, but don’t know how to articulate. 

“We’ll do this every night if we have to, Y/N. For as long as it takes.” 

You leap from your spot under the blankets to wrap Yoongi in a bear hug, burying your face in his shoulder as he buries his in your hair. Though you are overheated from the cuddling and still dazed from sleep, you hold him with as much sincerity as you can muster. You have a feeling he can tell when he holds you back just as warmly. 

The movement makes Jimin and Taehyung wake in unison and as they rub the fatigue from their eyes and land on the sight of you perfectly swathed in Yoongi’s arms, the two of them think it’s a sight they could get used to waking up to. They wonder if you feel the same way. 

“Thank you.” Your words are airy and light in his ear, but Yoongi knows their true weight. He doesn’t say anything. Just plants a soft kiss on the side of your temple and relishes in the scent of your shampoo. 

When he stares past your shoulders, he meets the gaze of Jimin and Taehyung, who are fondly peering at the two of you. Years of being with each other, they’ve learned to communicate certain things without having to say anything. And right now, in the gentle morning light, the realization is beginning to seep in. 

Perhaps the way they care about you is more what they had expected. 

Living with the seven of them is an adjustment. Getting accustomed to a rhythm and routine in a house that’s the headquarters of an underground powerhouse is easier said than done. You were constantly surrounded with uncertainty and tiptoeing danger but you had never felt unsafe. They were there. And as long as you had them, this house was sanctuary. 

You’re not in any immediate danger. Your father had basically agreed to leave you alone for the foreseeable future and the media had begun to calm down. However, when the tides have settled, the boys are able to see you up close and personal and at all the ugly scares you’ve tried to hide from everyone. They’re able to see what those years of trauma has done to you. 

Whenever someone’s voice booms too loudly across the mansion, yelling orders at subordinates or for any other reason, you start to quiver like a leaf in the wind. When one of them reaches towards you too quickly, for simple things like a wave or to hold your hand, you can’t help but to flinch in anticipation. And you try to hide it, but it’s impossible not to notice. 

They notice everything. 

They always do, when it comes to you. 

With every mannerism and survival instinct that has been involuntarily drilled into your subconscious, they all grow angrier that you’ve been subjected to this pain. Hoseok has had to talk Namjoon down from sending their entire fleet to dismantle the ambassador a couple too many times as they continue to learn how deep the trauma with your father truly runs.

“Y/N…”, Jin hesitantly mutters, fiddling with the food on his plate nervously, “have you ever thought about...going to therapy?” 

You freeze in between a chew and swallow, eyes staring into his with an innocent deer-in-the-headlights expression. You look like you might have a panic attack, and Jin is quick to cut the tension. 

“N-not that we’re forcing you to do it, my love. It’s only a suggestion. It’s just that..maybe it would be good for you. To talk about things and get professional help.” By the way he says it, and the way the other boys are staring at you expectantly, you realize this is something they’ve probably been discussing for a while now. And though it’s heartwarming to know that they care about your health, the idea of going to therapy is deathly daunting. 

“I don’t know, guys…” You twist your hands in your lap, a nervous habit to show your discomfort and they all instantly regret bringing this up at all. You keep your gaze glued downwards. You’re afraid that if you look up, you’ll just see disappointment from the ones that you’ve grown to care about so much. You don’t think you could handle it. 

“Could you look at us, Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice is soothing and there is no single trace of anger or frustration. You slowly tilt your head upwards and meet his eyes. 

“At the end of the day, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you don’t want therapy, then fuck therapy, princess.” 

Namjoon feels gratification when his statement makes you smile, and his heart suspiciously flutters in his chest. 

“But we just want the best for you. We all want you to heal because…”, Namjoon looks around and makes eye contact with the rest of the boys, whom he knows share his same feelings. 

“You’re so important to us.” 

You’ve known this. You know that they care about you even when your mind forces you to doubt that anyone does. But when you hear it like this, so raw and unfiltered with sincerity leaking in every letter, it ignites something that you haven’t felt in a long time. 

Hope. 

You take a glance next to you at Jungkook, whose warm smile makes your lungs feel like molten honey. At Yoongi, who looks back at you with gentle eyes. At Hoseok, who is impossibly soft with you. At them all. It makes you realize something:

You don’t want to go to therapy. It’s scary and you’re not really sure if you want to talk about your father or your family or anything that happened before you met Bangtan. But you have people who care about you now. And if you didn’t want to do this for yourself, then, well... you would do it for them. 

“You don’t have to decide now, but-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice slices through Taehyung’s words. “I’ll go to therapy.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”, Hoseok questions. Though he wants you to very badly, he wants you to do it on your own terms. And though your statement is strong, he can see the doubt and uncertainty swimming in your irises. 

“No, not really.” you whisper, and they practically deflate so you are quick to remedy their dejection. 

“But...I know that I want to get better. I know it’s going to be hard, but I want to get better.” You take a deep breath.

“For you. All of you.” 

The room falls silent, and the noise of clinking cutlery against porcelain plates stills. They could only look at you and wonder what country they have saved in their past lifetime to deserve to stumble upon someone like you. Someone so wonderful, and so damaged but so determined to heal. For them. For all of them. 

Jungkook scoops your hand in his, and when you look in his eyes, you are stunned to see that there are unshed tears pooling at his waterline. He looks at you and there’s something in his gaze that you can’t place. Something lovely that makes you feel like all this hurt has been worth it. Jungkook looks at you like there is something worth looking at. 

“We love…” From your other side, Jimin starts speaking, but cuts himself off halfway through and suspiciously glances around the table, meeting the gaze of the six other boys who already know how he wants to finish that sentence. But he doesn’t. 

“W-We love that you want to do that for us”, he coughs, and you return it with a smile. 

Did a part of you want him to say something different? Something deeper? You’re not sure, but the tinge of disappointment in your stomach that follows his words is a sign. 

Could you allow yourself to think that someone could actually genuinely like you past platonicity? Much less seven powerful men? After years of your father telling you the complete opposite, accompanying each scathing word with a bruise, it’s difficult to believe anything different. 

Therapy was, in a word, completely exhausting. It was tiring dancing around the subject of your father’s abuse, your mother’s neglect, Soyeon’s blatant denial and just the complete package of being the eldest daughter to Ambassador Yoo. When they all had scheduled you for 4 sessions a week, you immediately wanted to decline and opt for one. But their eyes had all looked so hopeful. So excited for you to get professional help, and there was no possible way you could have turned them down. 

Progress is frustratingly slow, though. Some days you just want to quit.

 You plop unceremoniously on the large plush sofa, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and cradling it to your chest. The boys are all in the other room, but are now fully aware of your presence after you slammed the front door and huffed your way to the comforting couch. They can practically feel the rays of stress emanating from you. 

“Y/N? Baby? What’s wrong?” Jimin is the one that first approaches, and the rest stare on with concern leaking out of every pore. And when you reply with a sniffle and hiccup, their hearts all collectively break. 

You feel a dip in the couch and crane your neck to lock your teary eyes with Jimin’s, whose brows are deeply furrowed. You involuntarily launch into his arms, tucking your face into his neck, and inhaling his cologne that always manages to calm you down. You hear them all shuffle around you. 

“It’s just..”, your voice pitifully cracks, “hard.” From your position, they are thankful you cannot see the heartbreak in their expression. It’s so hard for them to see you as anything but happy. 

“I don’t know if I can do it”, you breathe out, feeling a new wave of tears begin to rise. You want to cry even more at the thought that they would be more disappointed in you. .

But there is a warmth from your other side, and you don’t know who it belongs to as it sits next to you. 

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N”, Namjoon whispers oh-so-softly. They are such simple words. Arguably mundane and ordinary. Then why does it knock the wind right out of your chest? Why does it light up your dark tunnel? He’s proud of you. They all are. Even when you are an emotional mess with low mental energy, Namjoon is sitting next to you and telling you that he’s proud. 

You erupt into heart wrenching sobs that won’t seem to stop no matter what you do. It’s the kind of cry that feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. A cry that comes straight from your core and it sounds painful but truthfully, it’s just relieving. You know that all of them are worried out of their minds. You can feel it in the way Jimin shakily holds you as tight as he can, as if you are delicate chipped porcelain in his arms. 

But this is how you rebuild. With the seven of them by your side. You tell Namjoon to cancel your future therapy sessions the next day. Your psychologist was far short of revolutionary, and when they all asked you why, you admit that it’s not the therapy that’s helping you get better. 

It was just them. Being around them. Talking to them. 

It was Seokjin carding his hands through your hair and rubbing out the tension that always inevitably develops in your temples. It was Namjoon letting you lounge quietly in his office as he goes through paperwork, enjoying your presence as much as you enjoy his. It was Yoongi and Hoseok rambling to you about their adventures on the field (leaving out the gory details, of course. They wanted to keep you innocent and soft). It was Taehyung sneakily replacing your pink peonies as soon as the first petal began to wilt, even after the infinite amount of times you told him it was unnecessary. It was Jungkook and Jimin making excuses to spend the afternoon snuggled up on your bed when you all knew it was simply because they wanted to hold you. 

It was all of them tiptoeing around affection, craftily sneaking in spare kisses and touches on the skin. Holding you a little longer than necessary, a little more tenderly. Intertwining your hands under the dinner table, or when their subordinates weren’t looking. 

You notice the way they blush more often, if you let your touch linger for too long, or if you brush past them and make skin contact. You notice how pet names are easier to spill from their lips; ones like: my love, honey, sweetheart, baby...and you can’t help but to completely indulge in the way it is addressed only for you.  Little ways to subliminally tell you that perhaps you meant more to them than they were ready to admit. And you would be lying if you said your feelings for the seven of them were completely platonic. You would be lying if you said love wasn’t on the brain. 

Perhaps you are the missing piece to a puzzle they hadn’t realized was unfinished. 

“Hyung...I think I love her.” Jungkook is unsurprisingly the first one to voice it. The six others don’t even bat an eye. 

“No, Jungkook. I know you love her”, Hoseok whispers back in the tense silence of their meeting room. You are fast asleep on the floor above, but their hearts call out to you through the short distance. 

“I am too. We all are.” It is a truth they’ve known for a while. Sooner than they’re proud to admit. 

“I guess now all we have to do is figure out how to tell her.” 

They did want to. Tell you, that is. They wanted to shout it from the rooftops and make it known to the world that you are the angel that has snatched their hearts without even realizing it herself. If it hadn’t been for the disaster that suddenly struck their mafia, the boys would have already bared their souls to you. But timing was never kind. 

Bangtan were not known to be gullible. Not known to be easily fooled. So when Taehyung ran into their meeting room, red-faced and clenching his fists so hard they turned white, the Judas in their gang had come as a scathing surprise. 

One of their inner circle. Someone they had poured their trust and faith into, who had learned the system of their syndicate, had been a mole the entire time. Of course, they had disposed of him quickly, but the damage had already been done to their business. Allies and affiliates were backing away from collaboration in fear that Bangtan had been breached by law enforcement. Shipments were going missing more frequently, and even the lower hierarchies of their gang were beginning to become doubtful. To say the least, the seven of them were under debilitating stress and frustration. 

Nowadays, things were different than before. You were mostly kept in the dark about their business but you knew that something had happened. Something to make them so wound up, and it worried you to no end. It’s impossible not to notice how tense the house had become. 

Taehyung no longer stops by your room late at night, and in the early hours of the morning, you can still hear the frustrated clacking of his keyboard from next door. Not that you needed him to help you through your nightmares, but...you’ve gotten used to his comforting presence next to you.

Jungkook doesn’t seek you out for random conversations, and Namjoon just completely disappears in his office most days, not sparing you a single glance when he does manage to show his face outside. He locks the door now. You take it as a strong message that you are no longer welcome, and it upsets you, but you understand they are going through a rough patch. Your job is to be the least bothersome person you could possibly be. 

But Yoongi just flat out ignores you now, and you know Hoseok pretends to care about whatever topic of conversation you bring up. You can see right through his empty affirmations and nods. The kitchen is completely void of Jin, and there are no more clanging pots and pans when you try to cook for yourself. And Jimin is just like the rest of them: absent and indifferent to your presence. 

You know that it’s not you. The problem on their plate is bigger than you, but it still feels like you are a walking, breathing burden. You know that it’s not you, but your mind tells you they don’t want you here anymore. They’re sick of you. 

Two weeks pass by, and they’re still so cold even after all your attempts at trying to be calming comfort in their chaotic lives.  They still talk to you, but it’s strictly refrained to small talk that feels obligatory and like they have better things to do than spend time with you. They’re so busy that you often find yourself hanging out alone in the garden or making light conversation with the maids, or gang rookies that hang around the mansion. 

And it hurts to admit, but they don’t notice when you begin to regress to your old behavior. They don’t notice when you begin to flinch at anything that moves too quickly again, or the way you begin spacing out more than usual when you delve too far into your thoughts. They don’t notice when your nightmares start worsening again, too busy in their pooling stress to hear you toss and turn late at night and emerge from your bedroom with red, sunken eyes in the morning. You are relapsing into the learned behavior from your father, and you are terrified to admit it to yourself. But after a particularly bad day of anxiety and panic attacks, you put your fear aside to talk to the boys again about going back to therapy. It was virtually pointless, but you won’t let the seven of them take the brunt of your mental health when they had so much going on already. 

You timidly make your way down to the lower level of the mansion, slow footsteps leading you to their meeting room, where they’re all engrossed in their work and you can feel the tension choking the air. None of them notice your presence at first, until you cough to get their attention. They all snap their heads up and stare.

“Hey, could I um..talk to you guys for a couple minutes?”

 You feel like a specimen under a microscope. You used to be so comfortable talking to them. Now it just feels unnatural. 

“Can it wait, Y/N? We’ve just lost another shipment, and it’s a big one”, Yoongi grumbles from his seat, rifling through a tall stack of papers with a permanent crease in his brows. 

“Okay, then when can we-” 

“We’re just really busy right now.” 

Jungkook doesn’t mean for his voice to be so loud. He probably didn’t even pay attention to it, but it makes you flinch and stumble backwards. Makes you melt more into the girl you used to be. The one who stayed quiet out of survival, diminishing under the authority of a loud voice with cruel intentions. You know he doesn’t mean to do it. But you can’t help but see the face of your father again, and those long-healed scars seem to re-flicker with pain. 

Still, these were your boys. So you push on. 

A deep breath. “I was just thinking that maybe I could go back to-”

“Y/N, please. We don’t even have enough time to breathe. I’m sure whatever you need can be addressed later.”

The room falls into silence. Their message is loud and clear. And though it's painful to hear, it’s your own fault for exaggerating your place in their lives. He was right, it could be addressed later...you were just being a bother. 

“Right. Sorry.” Your halfhearted mutter falls deaf on their ears. They haven’t spared you a single ounce of attention, eyes still glued onto their work. You swallow down the heavy feeling in your throat and force the tears away. Why does your chest feel like someone’s twisted up your heart? 

You’re always so sensitive, Y/N. Such a crybaby. You can’t even take care of yourself. 

The tread upstairs back to your bedroom feels like an arduous journey as you try to hold yourself together and pretend like their actions hadn’t hurt you. But they weren’t responsible for your trauma. Your problems. You couldn’t blame them for not making it a priority, when their empire was threatened. 

They don’t hear you that night when you hold a goose-feather pillow to your chest and sob out the fear of being unwanted again. They don’t show up at your bedroom door when you wake yourself up from crying through a nightmare. 

You’ll figure it out yourself, with or without a therapist and with or without depending on them. From now on, you decide to make yourself invisible, focusing all your energy on dragging yourself out of the dark place you’re stuck in once again. So if you have to suffer in silence for their sake, so that they don’t have another insignificant loose end to worry about, you’ll do it. It’s the least you can do.

But you’d come to learn that those words are easier said than done. 

“Miss Y/N?” There is a light knock at your door, and the soft voice of the maid barely penetrates through the thick wood. You remember her name was Jun. The noise goes through in one ear and out of the other, and you can’t even find it in yourself to reply. 

“You haven’t left your room in two days. I was just...making sure you’re okay.”

Her statement shocks you out of your dazed stupor, and you hadn’t even realized the amount of time you spent staring into space, limp on your mattress.

 It was getting harder. To just function and drag yourself out of your bedroom so you didn’t, and two days unknowingly passed. But to you, they only felt like hours. Time passes by differently when you’re blindly navigating through trauma. 

It’s hard to sit up and slowly tread to the door, and your bones ache after not moving for so long. When you open it, guilt pools in your stomach to see her worried expression. Though you can guess why she looks so concerned. You’re a complete disaster. 

“Oh, honey…”, she sighs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “here. Let’s get you into some fresh clothes.” 

You mindlessly let her help you out of your days old T-shirt and sweats, mindlessly let her guide you into the shower and turn on the water, mindlessly let her rub shampoo into your scalp. You don’t even have the energy to open your mouth and tell her the water’s too cold. You’re still stuck inside your own thoughts, and you can only hear your father’s voice in your ear as he repeatedly affirms how worthless you are. Useless Y/N, that’s what he would say. Good-for-nothing Y/N. 

You’ve somehow gotten it into your head that the reason why they’ve been so absent with you is because they don’t know to tell you they want you to leave. After all, staying in the Bangtan mansion was only supposed to be a temporary solution. Maybe this is how they kick you out. 

When Jun wraps you in a fluffy towel and drags you out from underneath the showerhead, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks are sunken, and the dark circles under your eyes look almost painful. And somewhere along with that reflection is the image of your father. His angry face, glaring at you and screaming why you let yourself get like this. 

“Jun, have they…are they still busy?” Her eyes widen at the first words she’s heard from you, but there is sad sympathy on her face in a split second and you’ve already gotten your answer before she can say anything. 

“Yes, dear. The bosses are very occupied. But they can always make time for you, hm? They care about you a lot, you know.” Jun’s statement makes you frown, but you don’t retort. Maybe you used to think that they cared, but now it just felt like their kindness was out of obligation. They felt guilty for sending you back to your father. Or perhaps they used to care for you. But now...you weren’t so sure. 

When she manages to get you downstairs, in the kitchen, and set you in front of a bowl of soup, the boys are nowhere to be found. Jun tells you they’re out doing business and you tell yourself you’re not hurt that they hadn’t even noticed your absence for the past two days. 

They’re just roped up in other things, that’s all. 

After your shower and meal, Jun insisted that you take a stroll around the garden, and specifically instructed you to check out the new peony bush she had just planted. She mentioned it was per request of the seven bosses, but you had a hard time believing any of them would be concerned with something like that during this time. They hadn’t even made the time to talk to you. 

You hadn’t realized how much you needed to be outside and breathe in fresh air until you stepped out into the grassy space. Even though the solitude was getting to be too much, you were experiencing a newfound peace that you wanted to keep for as long as possible. Jun was right, and the peony bush was absolutely gorgeous. You actually feel like an alive and functioning human being. It was surprising that you were so dependent on the boys that without them, falling apart was inevitable. But now you were coherent and not so drowned in your toxic mentality (you’ll have to thank Jun profusely later), and you feel determined to talk to them again.  About going back to therapy, no matter how useless it felt back then, and try to get on your own two feet. Now that you had seen and felt how serious it was, you wouldn’t be so complicit if they tried to silence you. 

From over the tall hedges, the sounds of wheels rolling on gravel could be heard before the tense slams of car doors. The sound of Jungkook and Namjoon’s low muttering falls on your ears and though it sparks excitement inside you, you’re also fearful of what they might say. You don’t think you can handle another swift rejection like last time. Their indecipherable conversation ceases when you hear the entrance doors close, and seal them inside while you are still out here in your own world. 

The white peony that’s cupped in your hand feels so fragile and soft that you don’t want to touch it anymore. It makes you think of them. Of how delicate it feels recently and how you’re so deathly afraid of them changing their minds one day and kicking you out with nowhere to go. Maybe you’ll just wander around again. There’s a distant cousin in the states also, but you’d have to figure out how to get out of the country without alerting your father. You shake yourself out of your intrusive thoughts. 

No way your boys would do that to you.

Right?

The way back from the garden to the house is brief, but your anxiety about talking to them lengthens the trips and the feet feel like miles. You are wrapped up in your thoughts the entire way, and when you make your way into the house, you almost don’t notice the angry voices that are bouncing off the walls. It sounds like Taehyung is yelling, and the sound curdles your stomach. You hate it when people yell. It just reminds you of your father. 

You follow the commotion to the kitchen, extra cautious and apprehensive. The sheer volume of their reprimanding seems to shake the house and your hands begin to quiver as you get closer. Peeking out from behind a wall, their backs are to you but you can see the face of a sheepish boy who hangs his head, gaze glued to the floor as the seven men continue to berate him. You recognize him as one of the newer members that was initiated a couple weeks ago; you’ve talked to him a couple times and he was never anything but courteous. He looks like he’s about to cry and it makes your heart ache.

Your attention pans back to the seven out of shock. The only time you’ve seen them this angry was at the meeting with your father, so you can only imagine what that young boy has done to land himself in this position. 

“I told you a fucking million times too many, Lee. I told you to check in with the shipments as soon as they arrived in Myeongdong. So imagine my fucking surprise when I get a call notifying me that they’re all missing. Stolen.” Namjoon’s voice cuts straight through the room. His fists are clenched and even from the back, you can tell the expression on his face is one of scalding fury. 

A shipment? They’re this infuriated over a shipment?

“I-I’m sorry, Boss. Please, I...please forgive me. I know it’s no excuse but I’m new here, a-and I swear this will not happen again.” He shrinks into himself and you quietly whimper in sympathy. 

Yoongi humorlessly chuckles. “You swear? The only valuable thing you have to swear on is your life. And even that’s not worth much.” 

It’s moments like these that you forget how cruel and ruthless they can be. They’ve always been so soft and gentle with you before, you forget they are mafia bosses overseeing an entire empire. That they’ve gotten here for a reason. You forget that people fear them. But you remember now. 

Lee stays silent and still refuses to look up, but you can see the way his knees shake uncontrollably. He is one person standing up against 7 huffing bulls, so angry they can’t see straight so if you - tiny and meek you - has to be the one to come to his defense, so be it. 

Because you’ve been that person going head to head with a bull. You see yourself, terrified and regretful, in Lee. And you’ll be damned if you have to watch and not do anything about it. Your heart beats thunderously in your chest but you push past the fear. 

Their heads all snap up in surprise when you march into the kitchen and stand in between them and the boy, who looks even more painfully young up close and sporting that deer-in-the-headlights expression. You lock gazes with each of them, swallowing your nerves before speaking. 

“Is it really that big of a deal to yell at him like this? Look at him”, you gesture to the cowering person behind you, “don’t you think he’s had enough?” Your voice is still soft, and such a contrast to their angry ones. But it seems like your gentle tone just makes them even angrier, and snaps them out of their initial shock.  

“A big deal? He cost us thousands in shipments! I’d say that’s a pretty big fucking deal to me, Y/N.” Jungkook bursts out, exasperatedly running his hands through his hair and looking at you with an angry frown. You flinch at his volume. The stress on their shoulders is more apparent than ever.  

“Why are you defending him, Y/N? You don’t even know who he is”, Jimin spits, growing even more irritated. There’s a hint of jealousy in his words and it’s so subtle that you don’t even notice it. 

“I know that he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at like this for a little mistake. One that I’m sure he is regretful of making.” It suddenly feels daunting when you realize that you’re going up against all of them, and now, they’re all staring at you with the same anger that was meant for the one that messed up their shipments. 

“And what if that mistake is a sign that he’s traitorous? Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised. Seems like that’s a trend going around here.” From behind you, Lee is quick to open his mouth and begin to protest, but you interrupt and speak strongly. It seems this disciplining session has morphed into a full blown argument between you and them. 

“It was one person. I get that it’s shitty, and I’m sorry it happened. I understand that you have to be on watch now and extra cautious. I do.” You sigh, a pleading look in your eyes but they remain stone cold.

“But one person did that. Are you going to treat everyone like they betrayed you? Are you going to treat me like I betrayed you?”

“I don’t know Y/N, you were so quick to defend him. Maybe you did. I wouldn't put it past you.” 

Taehyung’s words run through you like a hot knife to butter. You almost stagger back at the shock. You’re no stranger to hurtful words but when they are coming out of his mouth, it hurts tenfold. How could they think you would betray them? 

They promised to trust you, didn’t they? They promise they’d believe you after they failed to the first time. Now it just feels like you’re that spoiled little rich girl again in their eyes, standing in front of them and pleading your innocence. 

“W-what? No, I-”

“You know nothing about our world, Y/N. You can’t possibly understand.” Jin’s silver voice is colder than you’re ever heard it. 

“I know that, but could you just please-”

“As a matter of fact, this is a mafia business matter”, Yoongi shoots, poisoned words designed to hurt. 

“I’m not sure why you’re here at all, Y/N. Just leave.” 

Gone is the strong persona that you had put up to protect this young boy. Gone is the confident woman who thought she had the will to stand up for herself, much less someone else. You can only keep your eyes glued to Yoongi, and hope that he doesn’t see your heart crumbling right in front of him. How had he aimed mindlessly at your insecurities, and shot a bullseye into the biggest one?

Maybe you did, Y/N. I wouldn’t put it past you.

Blame it on the blurriness through your tears or the sheer shock running through your veins, but you can’t find one smidgen of regret or guilt in his expression. On any of their faces. Just anger and annoyance, aimed directly at you. And suddenly the spacious mansion feels all too suffocating. 

You know nothing about our world Y/N.

The words you plan to say die on the tip of your tongue, as quickly as they came. There is nothing that comes out and in the aching silence of it all, the way you maintain eye contact with each of them speaks volumes. Yet they are blind to the way you are ripping at the seams, and oblivious to the turmoil they are putting you through. The coldness of their gaze and words shoot through your core, like a blade of ice piercing through your heart. 

I’m not sure why you’re here at all. 

Just leave. 

In short, right at this moment, they look like strangers. Strangers who know what scares you, what foods you don’t like, your favorite flowers, your favorite color. Strangers who have seen your heart, welcomed it, and who were now crushing it in front of you. 

What a fool you were to think that they could reciprocate your feelings. 

What a fool you were to think that they wanted you as much as you wanted them. 

Your pained chuckle is a discordant sound in the tense quiet. Their stares burn on your skin and though you are trying so hard to now show how utterly broken you feel, you wonder if they even notice. when you look back into the eyes of the boy directly in front of you, he is still so angry and red you find it hard to believe anything but your alleged cold, hard truth:

The seven boys you have fallen in love with utterly despise you. Perhaps they always have. 

“Yeah”, you whisper brokenly. “Maybe I will.” 

taglist: @pinkyhim​, @deolly​, @loveyoongles​, @drunkzseok​, @hope122598​, @uwunamjoon​, @nomimits7​, @bubblebunnylia​, @aquaalanah​, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever​, @btsbabby​, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy​, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona​, @jeoncookie-bts​, @annoyingpessimist​, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh, @btstxtgenre​, @taesugaar​, @hxsxxk-180294​, @bubbletae7​, @uglyratlmao​, @hopetookmysoul​, @supertweetycherry​, @missseoulite​, @barbikatherine​, @jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes​, @sunsetsnsirens-blog​, @vanilla-smash​, @lmaosani​, @onionhaseyeo​, @i-dumb-bitch​, @euphxriajoon​, @justpeachyjoon​, @dabbingangels​, @h5naaa​, @parkmaeri, @softescapism​, @bena-baby​, @myjiminmychimchim , @moments-of-melancholy​, @krystle1990​, @chatsgotmytongue​, @vi-hoshi​, @unlikelylittlemiss​, @rosey-roseau, @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​, @kookiebbyxx​,

[omegawolverine]

I love it when people talk about things they're passionate about, tell me something cool!! Anything you want, just something you find interesting or want to talk about :D

hello anon my beloved, I am in a bad mood so you will be receiving a passionate, yet lowkey of pissy rant about why villainizing bakugou makes me wanna vomit and its NOT just because I'm a dumbass kinnie :)

tws: child abuse (emotional and physical), near death expierences, bullying, kidnapping, suffocation, lots of trauma in general tbh. if you've seen bnha then basically just keep all the general triggering plot stuff in mind incase i missed any warnings

also, note: I havent caught up on bnha in a minute, I'm at like the start of the war arc but I barely remember shit there tbh so like. probs missing new stuff. also bnha spoiler warnings lol

so, for starters, the homie bakugou has like,, a good handful of issues that come from his childhood that explain why he's an ass. he was always praised and never actually reprimanded for being a twat which led to him having a huge ego that ended up fucking him over majorly. this ego was something that his mother acknowledged him having, but literally didnt try to fix it with anything other than violence. see here:

like, instead of trying to help him, she hits and insults him, which is probably what led to his weird inferiority/superiority complex. being constantly told by others that you're outstanding and one day you'll be a top hero because you're rude and aggressive and then going home and being hit by your mother for those exact same behaviors is bound to fucking confuse a child.

so like, now that we've established that its definetly canon that his mother (parents? I think he said parents at some point but masaru doesn't seem like the type so 🤷) hits him though we don't know how much or how often (though if bakugou was as much of a little shit back then ((which as far as we've seen- he was)) then it was probably often), lets talk about how regardless of all that 1) hitting your kids as "discipline" not only doesn't work but is abusive lol like idc if it's spanking/popping them on the mouth for talking shit, slapping them across the face "on occasion", etc. shits not okay 2) hitting your kids!!!! does not work!!!!!!!! it is literally PROVEN not to work!!!!!!!! hitting a child who has done something wrong doesnt teach them to stop doing something it teaches them to be scared of you, which will cause the child to withdraw, removing part of their support system (assuming said abusive parents would even offer that up) and will most likely lead to them thinking they're a bad person, not that their actions were bad, which are two different things. so, ya know, that would clearly have an effect on a kid. like, as someone with a mother who reminds me all too much of mitsuki: I have acted like a complete shitbag and taken my anger out on people to feel better in the past because of the way my mother treated me. though it was nowhere near what bakugou did, I still know first fucking hand what a mother hitting and insulting her child will do, especially if they have no proper outlet for that (friends, a safe place to vent) which bakugou never fucking had.

theres also the fact that just talking to your kid the way mitsuki does (saying it's his fault he was kidnapped because he's weak, all while hitting him) is not??? okay?????? ive seen people arguing that this was just a joke in poor taste but like her son was KIDNAPPED and even if it was a "joke" there's literally NO WAY that would EVER?? BE FUNNY??????? she just sounds like the kind of parent who at the very least says shit without thinking that would traumatize bakugou (because being told right after being kidnapped it's your fucking fault by your mother is absolutely traumatizing) but it comes across as her being emotionally abusive.

mitsukis character as a whole comes across as a shitty mom who doesn't realize she's a shitty mom and thinks bakugou being an ass isn't at least partially her fault even though she's admitted to realizing he has always had an ego problem and doing nothing to fix it except for hitting and yelling which obviously did nothing but make him just as loud and violent as she is.

this is obviously not the entire reason why he's a dick but he was never properly taught that the shit he was doing wasn't okay and people not stopping it and/or praising him endlessly even tho he was a bully is basically the same as encouraging it, thank you very much.

moving on from that, let's talk about bakugous other traumas and how he naturally responds to them. hint: it's with either full blown panic or a fight response (verbal or physical, though usually physical. also sometimes it's the panic followed by the fight response.)

so far in bnha (keep in mind that I am not caught up, I've only read up to the beginning of the war arc and i barely remember those bits so) bakugou has...

nearly died via sludge villain (he was unable to move and was being suffocated to death- keep this in mind)

lost for the first time ever and against deku of all people (this nearly sent him into a full blown panic attack, likely because of that sexy little inferiority/superiority complex combo. think of this as like. gifted kid burnout lite. he has always been the best of the best and now suddenly he is being beaten by somebody who has always been weaker than him, which immediately makes him start thinking he was never actually that good, he's actually a fucking failure, a goddamn fraud)

won the sports festival by default (bakugou counts this as yet another failure because todoroki didnt try his best. had bakugou lost to todoroki full strength, he would've taken 2nd place with a bit of bitching, but he still wouldve taken it rather than refuse the medal as it would be a reminder that he failed. instead of accepting that like UA shouldve, the staff chained and muzzled him on live television and then had all might, his fucking idol, force the medal into his mouth. remember the sludge villain incident and how he couldnt move and was suffocating to death? yeah.)

been kidnapped because of the way he reacted to winning during the sports festival (he was aggressive and tried to refuse the medal because he felt he didnt deserve it and was then retraumatized by being chained up and muzzled. his "villainous attitude" was a fucking trauma response, do not tell me otherwise)

was then chained up once again by the LOV after being kidnapped,,, do we see the "retraumatize bkg" theme yet?

"ended all might" (he literally blames himself for all mights retirement because had he just not have been weak, all might wouldve had more time, right?)

my point with all of these is that bakugou has been severely traumatized and has then had his trauma responses (aggression, fight) used to further demonize him. not all people with trauma react the fucking same and the way the fandom just refuses to acknowledge anger as a valid form of trauma response is gross as hell.

moving away from that topic, bakugou has literally never had any actual friends, they all just used him and didn't care about him which absolutely will fuck up a kid, especially one who already has all that other shit going on. bakugou deadass never had a support system or people to help him grow as a person, let alone properly work through his fucking emotions so it's not surprising that he would take out his bullshit on the one person who tried to help him especially considering he saw dekus actions as him thinking he was weak. bakugou was raised to not seek help, he thought somebody strong shouldnt ever need it, so for somebody like deku (who bakugou percieved as weak and helpless already) to offer up help? deku must obviously think bakugou is even weaker than him, what other explanation could their possibly be!

speaking of which, there's his heaps of insecurities that he basically hid by being a twat and bullying others for most of his life. kid was so insecure he bullied deku for fucking years cause he thought deku looked down on him, thought he was better than him, etc. and that only got worse bc his idol then decided to take deku in, train him and even give him his quirk. there's probably some shit im missing but still he's got issues and always has had issues. that being said, he's actually improving and working them out now which is what makes him a really good, interesting character. it's also nice to see a character who is a dick without some tragic backstory (like his backstory is sad but its not the classic "my family was fucking slaughtered and i turned into a raging bitch who murders people" type shit) bc that rarely happens and it's like most assholes don't actually have a story like that they're just assholes lol

now lets talk improvement! lil bitch has been getting better since he got into UA and im so happy abt it!! he had a rough start what with deku suddenly having a quirk and all but like he is really improving now and it highkey shows that bakugou just mostly needed people who 1) didn't constantly praise him and actually criticized him instead 2) actually fucking punished him doing stupid shit and 3) some motherfucking friends

Since going to UA he's gotten actually feedback from teachers about his weaknesses and how to get stronger, he's lost against others, hes been told he has a shit attitude and is a dick, told he should be nicer and leave deku alone, etc etc. He hasn't gotten in trouble too much with teachers but others give him shit for what he does and aizawa has punished him too, while still acknowledging that bakugou is an amazing and dedicated student, something which no one else had done up til that point. and uh???? homie actually has friends who like,,, don't use him and also call him out when he's a dick. like specifically kirishima has done this shit and him and bakugous relationship is clearly very healthy and beneficial for the both of them. makes me feel all happy n shit, ya know

bottom line is: while it is absolutely valid to dislike or even hate bakugou because he is a massively flawed person who has been very cruel to others, villainizing him for the way he acts which in large part seems to be from a lack of guidance, a shitty mother and heavy amounts of trauma, is fucking awful. his actions cannot be fucking excused, he needs to apologize and continue to grow, but he is also a fucking teenager, who is just now being told that the way he acts is unacceptable by people who dont fucking abuse him (and I swear to god if any people who think mitsuki isnt abusive interact with this fucking post I will fullstop hardblock you, I do not fucking care) and actually treat him like a normal person instead of some prodigy child or someone who needs to be fixed.

people are free to debate my points or whatever bc I know some of this stuff is up to interpretation but like. dni if you're just here to say you hate bakugou for xyz reason or that he's irredeemable. also especially dni if you compare him to fucking endeavor yall bitches make me gag.

anyways thxs for the ask anon <33 sorry this is a kinda messy info dump lol

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 21

part 1 | part 20 | part 22

a/n: annnnnnd another Day of the Black Sun chapter!! I promise this is the last one. I’m really just putting Y/N through it in these last few chapters aren’t I? writing the chapter like this was not the original plan but i had a dream about it and then a very timely anon asked me if y/n was going to be in a Fire Nation prison and I figured... hey why the fuck not you know?

Also! Haruki is Y/N second oldest brother, and again, Ren is her oldest. 

tw: verbal/physical abuse, fighting. Yes, her dad was always going to be this bad of a guy, I just never planned on them meeting up again.

Y/N huddled between Sokka and Katara as the Fire Nation army dropped bombs over where they hid. Aang and Toph had resurrected a small cliff jutting out of the mountainside to protect them, but even that was cracking under the pressure. 

When the bombing stopped, Katara crawled out first. She pointed out towards the water. “Why aren’t they turning around and attacking? They’re headed towards the beach.” 

Aang joined Katara, Sokka and Y/N at the edge of the path. The four of them watched as the airships seemingly retreated from them, headed in the completely opposite direction. 

“They’re going to destroy the submarines!” Aang shouted suddenly. 

As Y/N watched the Fire Nation balloons fly towards the beach, hurrying to destroy their only way out, the pit in her stomach grew larger. After the rest of the failures of today, Y/N wasn’t even surprised. 

“We’re trapped,” she muttered. 

“How are we going to get out of here now?” Sokka asked no one in particular. He was voicing the same question they all had. 

“We aren’t,” Hakoda said from just under the cliff. He leaned on Bato heavily, still holding his injured side. 

“Then we have to stand and fight,” Sokka furrowed his brow in determination. “We have Aang, we can still win.”

“With the Avatar we could still win, but on another day.” Hakoda, with effort, took his arm from around Bato and pulled himself to his full, brawny height. “You kids have to leave.”

Leave? Y/N’s eyes widened at the thought. Was Hakoda possibly suggesting that they leave the rest of his fleet here to fend for themselves?

“What?!” Katara rushed forward to grab her father’s arms. “We can’t leave you behind. We’re not leaving anyone behind.” 

Hakoda bent down to look his daughter in the eyes. “You’re our only chance in the long run. You have to take Aang somewhere safe. You have to keep hope alive.”

Katara looked away from her father, back to her friends. Y/N could see the tears flooding her eyes at the thought of leaving her father behind–losing him–once again. Y/N’s heart ached for Katara. It ached for Sokka too. He was about to take on so much responsibility. He was also about to shove the full brunt of the blame for the invasion plan not working onto his own shoulders; Y/N could already see the guilt wearing on him with the way he looked at his father.

“The adults will stay behind and surrender. We will be prisoners, but we’ll all survive this battle,” Bato said, his voice morose. 

Y/N felt a rush of urgency roll through her body. As much as she could see that Katara and Sokka didn’t like the idea, they weren’t speaking up against it. No one had an idea that was better. Except for maybe Y/N. She couldn’t let the rest of them stay behind like sitting turtle-ducks, waiting to be picked up and imprisoned. She had to do something.

“No way. I’m not going to let that happen.” Y/N’s voice rang through the troops. She didn’t stop there, not after stunning everyone into silence. She approached Hakoda and Katara stepped away to stand next to him. “I can get you out of here.”

Sokka erupted. “You can’t stay behind! You’ll get thrown into prison. You can’t!” He grabbed her hand like he wanted to plead with her but Y/N was already twisting out of his grip. She didn’t need him to make this harder than it already was. 

“No! I can’t just leave knowing I could have done something,” She shouted at Sokka. Y/N turned back to Hakoda. “I know this island. There are forests and mountains and there are thousands of caves to hide in. I can take us there and then no one needs to get caught!” She stared into Hakoda’s eyes with each word she spoke. 

As much as she wished Hakoda would jump at the chance to save himself, he didn’t look convinced that it was worth risking Y/N’s freedom as well. He opened his mouth to speak, to no doubt turn Y/N’s offer down and send her on her way with her friends on Appa, with the adults left behind in the dust to suffer the consequences. 

But Y/N was faster. She spoke around the lump in her throat. “If you stay behind, you won’t live to see the end of this war. And I know that too.” Her voice was low enough that only those around her could hear her words; Katara gasped at her bluntness. 

Even then, Y/N was surprised when Hakoda gave a curt nod to her, much to Sokka’s disapproval. He didn’t have time to give Y/N the lecture he so badly wanted to because just then, The Duke hollered, “They’re at the beaches!”

Y/N turned around to watch in horror as the Fire Nation airships dropped bombs onto the submarines that they had ridden in not 30 minutes ago. They were completely and utterly decimated with so much excessive firepower that Y/N could smell the burning from where they were. With their only escape officially cut off, a nervous murmuring broke out among the troops, and suddenly Y/N was extremely anxious for herself. 

How was she supposed to get a group as large as theirs around in the jungle silently, looking for a hiding place? What had she just gotten herself into?

---

Their goodbyes were quick. They had to be. Katara hugged her first, squeezing her so tight that Y/N thought she would stop breathing. It was a welcome comfort. 

“I trust that you know what you’re doing.” Katara bit her lip. “As much as I hate the idea.” 

“This is our only chance,” Y/N replied. Because what else was she supposed to say? How could she comfort someone else and when she couldn’t even do that for herself.

Katara squeezed her arm. “I know.”

She left only to be quickly replaced by Toph who gave Y/N a very uncharacteristic hug. “You better come back soon. I can’t deal with all of Sokka’s whining while you’re gone.” 

It was meant to be lighthearted; something that would make Y/N giggle, but there was a seriousness to it as well. Did Sokka really rely on her company so much? They hadn’t been separated for more than a few hours since she had joined them. She didn’t want to think what a few days would do to either of them.

“You got it, Toph. Keep everyone safe for me, alright?”

The younger girl nodded and earthbent herself up to Appa’s saddle. 

---

Aang was still staring off at the burning submarines when Y/N approached him from behind, laying a soft hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Everything is going to be okay. I told you, you’re going to have another chance at taking down the Firelord.”

Aang turned to look at her, his eyes were filled with tears. “Only because I have people sacrificing everything for me.”

Y/N nodded. “Sometimes–” she sighed and chewed on her chapped lips. She didn’t need to give the boy a lecture on the hardships of war. He knew far too much of that already. “We know what we’re doing. We want to do this for you. You’re the most important tile on the pai sho board, Aang.”

He shook his head like he didn’t believe her. “I’m taking everyone to the–”

“No.” Y/N broke in and looked away. “Don’t tell me where you’ll be. Just in case.”

Aang looked at her with sad, grey eyes, knowing exactly why she didn’t want to know the location of where he would be hiding out. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged her before airbending himself to Appa. Y/N watched as he hid his head in a way so that he didn’t have to look at anyone that he was leaving behind; his shoulders shook with sobs. 

---

When Sokka approached her, Y/N unstrapped her sword from her back and held it out to him.

“What are you doing? You might need this.” He said, surprised. His voice was thick with unshed tears. Y/N could tell he was trying to stay strong at the thought of leaving behind so many. His jaw was set and he couldn’t quite look at her directly. 

 Y/N did the same, looking everywhere but Sokka’s eyes, after realizing that was the only thing that was going to stop her from crying in the moment. “I have my knife. Besides, this is assurance that I’ll come back to you. I wouldn’t let you keep it forever.” Y/N let out a watery laugh. 

She wrapped her arms around Sokka and hugged him like she’d never hugged anyone before. She felt so much more grounded when she was around him. She felt like she was finally accepted. It was so hard to let go of that feeling that she had been searching for her whole life. She wanted to remain there, bathed in warmth forever, but she knew she would have to let him go sooner than she wanted to.

“I’m sorry. I’ll see you later.” She whispered the words into his shoulder, because saying goodbye made it too real. 

A quick kiss to the lips and then Appa was gone, carrying her friends and disappearing in the smoke like they had never been there in the first place. Which is exactly what she wanted. 

Y/N allowed herself to take a shuddering breath in and out. She wiped at her tears with the back of her hands and turned to face the troop of warriors she was meant to lead to safety. 

“Let’s go.”

---

They moved as quickly as they could for a group of 20-some-odd warriors and a young girl at their helm. 

In those early years, before she lived at the palace, she would explore her new home in the Fire Nation with her brothers; before Ren joined the army and before Haruki got mean. That meant she knew the terrain well enough to get them around, but keeping them hidden, well that was a whole other story. 

Every time that Y/N heard a branch snap, her head would turn back expecting to see them overrun with Fire Nation soldiers, but it hadn’t happened. And the farther they got from the Royal Caldera City, the easier she began to breathe. That was until she heard shouting in the distance.

Their words weren’t discernible from where she was at, the wind was whipping too hard in the tops of the trees above her, but it was clear that they weren’t safe yet. She had the men pause and crouch down as she pressed a finger to her lips, signaling them to be quiet. It was a pointless motion, no one had said a word since they’d left the cliffs behind. 

“There’s some large caves about 100 yards ahead through the trees,” Y/N whispered to Hakoda. She clamped her lips together as she heard another yell, off in the trees. Much closer this time. 

“Why are you telling me?” Hakoda shook his head. 

“Because I’m going to go draw those soldiers away so you can take everyone there?” Y/N stood up and drew her knife. 

“That’s not a good idea, Y/N.” Hakoda warned.

Y/N wasn’t sure it was either, but she’d made it her duty to get these warriors to somewhere where they could hide. She made a promise to herself that she would do it. “I’m fast. I’ll meet you back there.”

Y/N took off before Hakoda could say anything else to her. 

---

Y/N found the soldiers. She hid between a fork of trees watching them traipse around making far too much noise to be any good at tracking. It didn’t matter though, if they saw them they’d capture them. Y/N chewed on a nail as she thought of a plan to lure them in the opposite direction just to give Hakoda and Bato extra time to lead their group to somewhere safe. 

Y/N flinched as she heard the snap of a twig behind her. She ducked further down into the brush, hoping that the black of her armor and the setting sun would hide her. 

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and Y/N whipped around with her knife ready to embed it in the poor soldier who decided to mess with her.

She pulled back just in time to save Hakoda’s face from a fresh wound. 

She dragged him down next to her in the brush quickly to avoid being seen. “Why did you follow me?”

“Why didn’t you go with the other kids?” He retorted.

Y/N looked away ashamed. She didn’t know how to answer him. How was she supposed to admit that if she had left she would have felt like she was running away. Even though she didn’t think that of Sokka or Aang, she felt it about herself. She never would have been able to justify leaving people behind for her own sake. She deserved it. It was her punishment to stay behind and risk her life. Punishment for leaving Azula, punishment for even thinking like that still, punishment for asking Azula to come with her, punishment for getting Suki thrown in prison. Y/N couldn’t stop the sins she had committed from filling her brain and swirling around until her ears rang. 

“So what’s your plan?” Hakoda asked, interrupting her from her thoughts.

Y/N hadn’t gotten as far as already having a plan made but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “You shouldn’t have come. You’re still hurt.”

“I’m not going to leave you out here alone.”

“You should,” Y/N muttered. 

“Come on,” Hakoda bumped her elbow. “I’ll go around to the other side and we’ll split up and lure them off in that direction.” Hakoda nodded his head in the direction of Capital City. “Then, we’ll double back and head to the cave.”

Y/N nodded and waited for Hakoda to get in position, then she took off running, cutting directly through the group of Fire Nation soldiers in front of her. 

Y/N made as much noise as she possibly could as she ran away from the soldiers, snapping branches and kicking bushes to make sure they were following her. She could hear the pounding of their boots as they chased her through the thicket and distant yelling as they ordered her to stop. Y/N’s heart raced everytime she slipped in the mud or stumbled over roots, thinking that every second would be the one where she was caught. 

What eventually caught her attention was the sound of silence in the forest. Well, as silent as a forest could get. Sure, she could still hear birds in the trees and the wind blowing, but the only sound of footsteps were her own. 

She spared a glance behind her and didn’t see anyone either and so Y/N began to slow to a jog. She was very suddenly aware that if no one was chasing her anymore, the only other person there was to chase was Hakoda. 

But then Y/N ran into a wall.

Except that wall was a person in Fire Nation armor.

And he was grinning like he had just won the lottery. 

---

Y/N pulled her knife but before she could take a stab at him, he grabbed and twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop it. She shrieked as her wrist popped; any more force and it would have broken. Y/N kicked the soldier in the shin and the man grunted, but never let go of her hand. She pulled and pulled against him, but he was easily twice her weight and it was no use. 

Y/N grabbed at his fingers and began pulling them off of her wrist. “Let go!!”

“Stop!” The soldier made a grab for her other hand and Y/N kicked out at him again, trying to keep him as far away as possible. “Stop kicking me!” He yelled.

“Then let go!!” Y/N growled as she grabbed his pinky finger and bent it backwards.

He did at that, yanking his hand away from Y/N’s fingers hastily. 

Someone grabbed her from behind and spun her around to face them. An orange flame danced much too close in her peripheral. Y/N froze in fear as a voice muttered, “If you keep that up, you’ll lose those fingers.” 

---

Y/N didn’t have much to say after that. She allowed the two soldiers to tie her hands behind her back and lead her to a small clearing where the rest of the soldiers waited. Kneeling in the middle, was Hakoda. 

He looked rough. There was a fresh bruise above his eye and there was fresh blood on his shirt; Y/N thought he might have reopened his previous wound on his side. 

Y/N was so embarrassed that she couldn’t even meet his eyes when she was shoved to the ground next to him. Instead, she focused on what was being said around them. Behind her, she could hear the soldier’s whispering about them. They knew who Hakoda was; that one was apparently pretty obvious with his Water Tribe armor, but her, she was an anomaly to them. 

“It doesn’t matter,” one of the soldiers who had captured her said. “They’re both going to the same place. The commander is going to want to talk to anyone who was possibly involved in the invasion. Then he’ll send them off.” 

---

Y/N wasn’t sure if she recognized the compound or not. She’d visited so many when her father was first moved to the Capital City and all of them looked the same. Large stone walls, look-out towers where guards were stationed, gates with metal bars as thick as Y/N’s arms at every entrance and exit. 

The sun was gone and it was pitch black, save for the lanterns lit around the grounds. The cool air had settled and Y/N shivered as her metal armor did nothing to keep her warm. Her hands were still tied behind her back so she couldn’t even wrap her arms around her torso to provide some windbreak. But then again, she also could have been shivering at the anticipation of what was going to come next. 

They were met outside a set of large doors by someone who was high ranking; Y/N could tell by the way the soldier at her side stiffened up at his arrival. He stood just outside of the lamp light and Y/N’s eyes strained to get a look at him. 

“Sir, we found these two running through the woods near where the invasion force was sighted.”

“And the others?” his voice was gravelly and familiar. Y/N held her breath awaiting the answer.

The soldier shook his head shamefully. “No sign of them.”

Y/N was able to relax for a second. Okay, the rest of them were still safely hidden.

The man took that moment to step out of the shadows and Y/N gasped. She knew him, and he knew her by the smile on his face. She flashed back to stuffy dinners at her house where they entertained army officers almost weekly. This was one of her father’s best friends, and if this man was here, he would be too.

“No matter.” He unfolded his hands from behind his back and grabbed Y/N’s chin gruffly. “Look who we caught.”

Y/N jerked her head out of his hand and glared. He pretended to not be perturbed and motioned for the other soldiers to take Hakoda away. 

Y/N freaked out. She thrashed around and did everything in her power to block the soldiers from even touching him. 

“You can’t take him!” she screamed. “Leave him alone! He wasn’t a part of this!”

It took two of them to hold her back.

“Y/N,” Hakoda said. His voice made her grow quiet, her legs felt like jelly underneath her. The look he gave her was grave and it made her heart thud with uncontrollable worry. “It’s okay. Don’t—“

They were already pulling him in the opposite direction they were taking her.

“I know!” She yelled back. He had to know that she would follow his instructions, he had to know that she would do everything in her power to keep quiet. She wasn’t going to turn on them at the first sign of trouble. Never. 

She chanted the words in her head like a psalm: Don’t say anything about Aang. Don’t say anything about the invasion. Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.

---

Y/N was led gruffly through one set of doors and then another and shoved onto her knees in an office. She was left alone, which wasn’t at all surprising. She was about to get interrogated by the only man she’d never been able to fool. And he wouldn’t want anyone around to witness his disgrace of seeing his own daughter being the enemy.

The door behind her was opened so forcefully it nearly fell off the hinges and Y/N flinched. He took no time walking around her and leaning on the front edge of the desk in the corner. 

Y/N couldn’t see him though, she’d only heard the stomp of his boots on the floor. She had turned her face into her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting with bated breath for the yelling.

She could feel his eyes travel over her short hair, her black armor, the red clothes that she still wore; as if she couldn’t choose between familiarity or blatant treason.

With a stroke of bravery that came from within, Y/N took a deep breath and faced him. “Hi Dad.”

---

Y/N was sure flames were going to leap out of his eyes. He was dressed in all his Fire Nation armor as if he had just stepped onto the base from his ship. Y/N used to think it made him look important and regal, the high points on the shoulders of his chest-piece and the arm guards that had had the Fire Nation symbol up the sides in gold. All of that coupled with his build and height made him an intimidating man. Y/N wanted to be like him for so long; now it just looked like he was compensating for his own inadequacies. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Her father’s voice shook with anger. Each word he said was clipped like a punch to the gut. 

“I’m saving the world.”

He scoffed. “You’ve always thought that you were more important than you ever were.” 

“I’m finally doing something for myself.” For some reason Y/N felt like she needed her father to see the reasoning behind her actions, as if he could understand them, he would be more sympathetic. But he’d never been sympathetic towards her. 

“This is the opposite of for yourself!! You’re working against us! Against your family! You’ve betrayed us all, worst of all you’ve betrayed me.” Y/N’s father began to pace in front of her. 

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve ever disappointed you,” Y/N muttered. 

“I always knew there was something wrong with you. I thought when you became friends with the Fire Princess, you’d finally found a purpose, but you’ve always been weak-minded. You’re so easily swayed one way or another by the words of others.” 

“No one said a word to sway me in any direction! I made this choice for myself!” Y/N shouted defensively.

“It’s why you can’t firebend,” He continued, not listening to a word that came out of her mouth. “You’ve never been strong enough, you don’t have an inner fire.” 

Y/N sighed as the same song and dance of her childhood circled around her. Her father had always believed that the only reason she was a non-bender was because she simply wasn’t powerful enough to produce flames, not that it was possible she just wasn’t a bender. 

“Why does the conversation always lead back to–”

“Silence!” Y/N’s cheek stung as the back of his hand collided with it. 

 Her father stood in front of her and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You always make me so mad, Y/N.” he said, almost sadly. “I tried to take care of this weeks ago, the second I learned of your rebellion–”

“What?” Y/N whimpered, she looked up at him through wet eyelashes. “What do you mean take care of this? Did–did you send those men after me? To kill me?!”

“You think I wanted to?!” Her father shouted. “You’re a traitor. You turned your back on your nation. You’ve embarrassed me enough. What are they going to think of a commander who’s 15 year old daughter attempted to stage a coup with the Avatar and the Water Tribe savages?” 

Y/N felt lightheaded. She wasn’t even listening to his words anymore. Azula didn’t try and kill her, her own father did. She had blamed Azula for so many things and this was one thing that she was completely innocent of. 

Finally, he turned his back on Y/N. The action was terminal and unwavering. “No one can know you were involved. It will ruin my reputation and I’ll be damned if you do anything more to tarnish the family name.”

Y/N dropped her chin to her chest and let her tears flow freely, now that his eyes were off of her. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think that her father would do anything as drastic as this. She wouldn’t expect forgiveness from him, that just wasn’t his way, but he was still her father. 

What would he have done if Kaito had been successful in his attempt on her life? How could her father have gone home to Y/N’s mother and acted like he didn’t have a part in her death? Would it roll off like water on a duck’s back, or would he have regrets? 

The worst part was the waves of disappointment that rolled through Y/N’s body. She wrestled with anger and embarrassment for her part in it all. She fought her whole life to gain the approval of the man standing in front of her and with one fell swoop she had knocked down everything she had already built up as if it was nothing, not the blood, sweat and tears she had put into it for so long.

Nothing could ever remedy the choices she had made in her father’s mind. Once he put his mind to something, he wasn’t one to change it. And while Y/N still stood by them for being the right decisions, she couldn’t help but think of the possibilities that could be, had everything been different. The outcomes were endless, but one thing was always certain; her father couldn’t have ever really loved her if he was so easily able to dispose of her.

----

A/N: so where do you think she’s going? lmao, y’all get One Guess. sorry not sorry for the angst. 

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[arvandus]

Touch (Pt. 8)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Chapter warning: Another long chapter, clocking in at 10k words and 27 pages.  First half is a bit heavy, so... Trigger warnings: physical abuse, verbal abuse, childhood trauma flashbacks

Chapter Songs: When The Truth Hunts You Down by Sam Tinnesz/Make It Rain by Ed Sheeran

Part 1   Part 7

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 8 - Memories

Dabi stared at his desk, now positioned in front of his bedroom door.  He did it as soon as he’d returned to his room and swallowed the pills you had given him.  He wasn’t sure what to expect for the evening, but whatever happened, he wanted to make it through it without leaving his room.

That was a decision he had made before he even showed up at your door with dinner, as evidenced by the plastic bags currently occupying the surface of his makeshift barricade.  Ramen wasn’t the only thing he’d gotten while he was out.  The bags were filled with a variety of items - more snacks, a pack of cigarettes, electrolyte drinks, over the counter medicines.  Anything and everything he could think of was in those bags, the collection curated from multiple experiences of past detoxes.  Granted, this wasn’t a full detox, but that just made it that much harder to anticipate what exactly his experience was going to be.

Next to the lineup of bags was a bottle of high-end whiskey and a far less fancy plastic cup.  That part wasn’t exactly planned… it was a last-minute decision, swiped from the bar downstairs after he’d returned from his shopping spree.  He knew you wouldn’t be happy about it; no doubt you’d grill him on the risks of mixing alcohol and drugs.  But it was his safety net without the risk of leaving his room in search of something stronger.

The night dragged by slowly, painfully.  Every inch of Dabi was restless and aching.  His scarred legs screamed a discordant song through his veins, muffled under the influence of the pills you had given him.  The aches he still felt were just annoying enough to make sleep impossible, despite the exhaustion that pulled at him.  There was no comfortable position, nothing to ease the physical stress.

Still, the pain was bearable.  Your treatment was working.

It had its limits, though. Despite the pills you’d given him, he was still functioning on an opioid withdrawal.  A jittery energy consumed him, forcing his leg to beat like a jackhammer, while his mind raced. Dabi could never stay in one spot for long, switching between his bed to his desk chair, to his bed again.  Sitting.  Lying down. Standing.  Sitting again. It hadn’t taken him long to break into his cigarettes, dragging long puffs into his lungs to ease his tattered nerves. It helped to ease the physical distress, but his mind continued to jump from thought to thought, no longer encumbered by a drug-filled haze. 

The headache relief you’d provided him was proving to be a double-edged sword, allowing his sporadic thoughts to come through clearer without the sharp, throbbing ache as a distraction.  Your conversation hung over Dabi like a vengeful ghost.  He tried to run from it, distracting himself with various forms of entertainment on his phone.  Music videos, books, TV shows, memes…

Did you like memes? Of course, you did.  Who didn’t?

Damn it, there you were again, in his brain.

He didn’t want to think about it.  He didn’t want to think about you.

But he did anyway.  Obsessively.

It wasn’t long before Dabi was sitting on his bed, his phone forgotten in his hand while his mind turned over every nuance of what was said, every detail of body language.  It honed in on the fear in your eyes, the way you had wrapped your arms around yourself, the way you had frozen against his harsh tone. His mind chewed on it like a dog with a bone, a dog he couldn’t fucking train.

It shouldn’t matter.  It shouldn’t fucking matter.

So, you were scared of him. That was to be expected.  It wasn’t like he needed you to like him.  This was all temporary anyway.

So, he had grabbed you. Big deal.  It wasn’t like he really hurt you, right?  It could have been so much worse.

The thoughts the did little to comfort him, his new-found conscience finding little of value in his weak excuses.  The guilt sat in him like a stone, too heavy for him to move.

It mattered.  It mattered a lot.

And he hated it.

Dabi still couldn’t remember actually grabbing you, but his mind filled in the blank space regardless, taking what he could remember and embellishing it into a brightly colored oil painting.  It hung front and center in the castle of his mind, joining the tapestry of memories that wrapped around Dabi like a cage.  And from it, it forced him to follow the threads of his life, drawing parallels to past wrongs, to things said and things done…

…To things better left buried.

“I hate you.”

The words echoed in Dabi’s mind, an old memory with his voice attached.  Young, hot-headed, angry.  He closed his eyes tight, resting the bridge of his nose on his interlaced fingers as he tried not to remember.  He didn’t want to remember.  But his mind was freed now, healing from the poison he’d been feeding himself for years, and it didn’t give a fuck what he wanted or didn’t want.

“This is all your fault.”

So, this is where his mind wanted to start first.  He knew this memory, and he knew where it would eventually lead. 

The memory came into focus with such clarity that it was as if he were there again.  He could see her, clear as if she were there in person, white hair framing broken eyes as wet tears trailed down her hollow, pale cheeks. He could see himself too, younger, around thirteen years old, with red, wild hair like his father, his blue eyes filled with angry tears. 

He watched, a prisoner in his own mind, as the memory unfolded before him.

His head hung low as his eyes stared ahead of himself, unfocused. Why?  Why was this happening to him?  His father’s harsh words wrapped around him like chains, restricting him, choking him, forcing him into submission.

‘YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A FAILED EXPERIMENT.’

Why was he cast aside so easily, as if he didn’t MATTER?

His father promised.  He PROMISED that he’d help him become a hero.  He’d trained every day, no matter how hard his father pushed him, no matter how much his quirk burned him. His father had called it the cost of greatness. It was all meant to mold him, to beat the weakness out of him and make him stronger, to prepare him for the greatest test of his life, the UA entrance exams.  It was the ONLY path to becoming a pro hero.  Not just any pro hero, but the BEST.  His father insisted on it.

But now, with less than a year before he would apply, his father abandoned him.

“I tried so hard, mom.  I did everything he ever asked, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he… he…”

His mother wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. “I’m so sorry Touya.”

His voice shook with the force of suppressed sobs. “If I’d been strong enough… if I was more like him, then maybe he’d have been proud of me. Maybe… maybe he would have wanted me.”

“Touya…” his mother whispered consolingly.

He stared at his bandaged hands, watching through blurred vision as his tears broke free and fell onto the strips of cloth.  They soaked in, exposing the red blood beneath. He stared at it.

His fathers voice echoed in his mind.  ‘You’re WEAK!  Just like your mother!’

Tainted blood.

HER blood.

His father was right.

Touya’s pain transformed into anger. “This is all your fault.”  He whispered.

Her embrace vanished as his words smacked her.  Her eyes began to fill with tears.  “What…?”

“This is all your fault!” He repeated, pinning his angry eyes on her tear-filled ones.  “I HATE YOU!”

Dabi rubbed at the bridge of his nose, unable to get his mother’s facial expression out of his head. He had been such an idiot. A young, stupid kid.  He’d destroyed her with those words.  Maybe… maybe that was the start.  The first crack in her mental fragility.

Her face faded away, and now he was in an office. His father’s office.

“I’m going to apply to UA.” He announced.

His father looked up at him from the newspaper he was reading. “No you’re not.  I forbid it.”

“You may have given up on me, but I haven’t.”  Touya said stubbornly.

Enji put the newspaper down.  “If I thought you were capable of getting into UA, then we would be training right now instead of having this conversation.”

“But dad-“

“I FORBID IT!” He shouted as orange flames erupted along his face and shoulders.  “I’ll not have you bring shame on the Todoroki name all for a childish dream.”

“It’s NOT a childish dream!” Touya shouted.

Dabi scoffed at the memory, noting his father’s hypocrisy about “childish dreams.”  He knew the rest of this story…  He’d applied behind his father’s back and failed the exam.  His father was furious.

As if summoned, the memory burst forth, tying together with the previous.

He lay in the hospital bed at the UA Health Center, wrapped in bandages, nursing his failure.    He’d lost control of his emotions during the exam, consumed by anger and a desperate desire to prove his father wrong.  In turn, he lost control of his quirk.  Not only had he injured himself with his recklessness, but he’d accidentally injured two other applicants with his wild flames – an automatic disqualification.

The school nurse, Recovery Girl, was treating the other’s wounds first, and then she would treat his.

Or so he thought.

Just as she was about to use her quirk to rapidly heal some of his injuries, his father burst through the door in a cloud of barely contained rage.

“Don’t treat him.” He ordered.

“Excuse me?” She replied.

Touya stared at his father, realization starting to dawn on him.  He wouldn’t...

Enji narrowed his eyes.  “I said don’t treat him.”

“But Mr. Todoroki, if I don’t use my quirk to help him then he’ll be left with scars.  Worse than the ones he already has.”

“I know.”

“It will take him many weeks to heal.  He may feel pain for the rest of his life.”

“He must suffer the consequences of his actions.”

“But sir, if I may-“

“You may not!”

“…very well, sir.” She mumbled.  She left the room, muttering her disapproval under her breath.

After she was gone, a cold fear gripped Touya as his father stared at him with fury in his eyes.  He waited for his father’s barrage of insults and accusations, waited for the lecturing on family honor and being a ‘man.’

But the attacks never came.  Instead, his father cooled his expression, fixing him with a cold, emotionless glare.  “You brought this on yourself.”  He turned on his heel to leave, but paused to glance at him over his shoulder.  “Remember this day, Touya.”  Then he left.

Tears streaked down Touya’s face as he sobbed alone. No one could hear him.  No one came.

Dabi stood up and made his way to his desk, pulling out another cigarette before sitting down in the metal chair.  He lit the cigarette with the blue flame dancing on his finger and took a long drag of it as his free hand slowly spun the whiskey bottle in circles in front of him.

He didn’t want to think about this.  Any of this. There was no fucking point to it, nothing to be gained.  It only brought up the same pain he’d lived with for years, the pain he’d learned to ignore in place of vengeance.

He wanted to drink the entire bottle.  He wanted to move his desk aside and seek you out, have you turn off his emotions like you’d done before.  He could do it… the desk wasn’t really going to stop him.

But it served as a reminder. A reminder of what he had committed himself to.  Why did he decide to go through with this?  What the hell was he thinking?

He thought of you.  He thought of the past few days.  And once again, he was back on his thread of memories, following the tapestry down to its source.

The source of what?

He wasn’t sure.  But it was as if someone had strapped him down and was forcing his eyes open.  It wouldn’t stop.  His thoughts continued unfettered, memories organizing with a clarity he hadn’t felt in years.

Touya sat alone in his room watching the rain pour outside as he nursed a black eye.  Outside his second-story window, his father trained in the courtyard with his youngest brother. His quirk had manifested earlier that day – a perfect combination of fire and ice.  Enji had been ecstatic.

Touya had punched the wall in anger.

Now he sat here, alone, watching his father train his replacement.

His replacement.

No wonder his father had abandoned him when Shouto was born.  He was placing all of his chips on him once he realized that Touya’s body would never be able to handle his quirk.

A knock at the door interrupted his brooding, and his mother stepped in, disappointment already on her face.

“I heard you got in another fight today.” She said, as she closed the door behind her.

“They were picking on Natsuo.” He said.  “I couldn’t just let that happen.”

“They’re talking about expelling you.”

He looked away from her, his eyes looking back out the window.  “So what.” He replied.  If anything, he welcomed it.  Anything to thwart his father’s plans of making him go to college and get a business degree, only to work under his father’s thumb at his agency for the rest of his life.

“You can’t keep doing this, Touya.” She said, concern heavy in her voice.

“Doing what?” He looked back at her. 

“Destroying your life like this.”

He glared at her accusation. “I didn’t destroy my life.” He looked away, watching the courtyard again.  “He did.”

His mother walked over to join him at the window.  A gust of wind blasted raindrops onto the glass.  Outside, Shouto’s flames died away on his skin as he collapsed to his hands and knees.  Enji grabbed him by his small arm, forcing him back up to his feet.  She watched it with a sadness in her eyes.

“He’s too young.” She said quietly.

Jealousy soaked into Touya’s heart.  “And I wasn’t?”

His words stabbed her, and she hung her head in guilt.  “I’m sorry, Touya.  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Now he was confused.  “Like what?”

She didn’t respond, and he looked at her to see her eyes glazed over in silent introspection.  She’d mentally retreated within herself, to a place that Touya couldn’t follow.  It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her do this.  If anything, it was happening more frequently lately.  Normally, when this happened he wouldn’t press it, allowing her to escape within herself, to protect whatever part of her she felt needed protecting.

But now her words trapped him, and his heart began to pound at their unspoken meaning.  “LIKE. WHAT?  How was it supposed to happen??”

His words cut through her mental isolation, and she stared distantly at the floor as her eyes began to brim with tears.

“If only one of the others had been strong enough… of only I’d given them better quirks…” the tears broke free, landing on the hard floor.  “Then maybe… maybe you wouldn’t have had to suffer so long.  I’m so sorry, Touya.  It’s all my fault.  Everything is all my fault.”  She covered her face in her hands.

Given them better quirks?  Who? 

His body went cold.  Suddenly he was outside of himself, watching the history of his life fly by.

The birth of Fuyumi.  Then came Natsuo.

Now Shouto.

Touya did the math in his head. He was 17 now.  Fuyumi was 14, and Natsuo was 9.  Shouto was 5.   A four-year gap between each of them.

He’d always thought that his siblings came along as a natural process of a growing family, born from love despite his father’s harsh, obsessive nature.  Why else would Rei have stayed with him all these years? But the age gaps were too uncanny, too similar.  It was just enough time for each of their quirks to manifest.

Shouto wasn’t the only one who was intended as a replacement.

Which meant his father had given up on him long before he’d ever let on.

Touya’s chest heaved, as his world was up-ended.  “It was all a lie…”

The intensity of his tone forced his mother to come back to the present, her hands falling from her face to stare at him.  “What?”

“It was all a lie!” he repeated, his voice raising.  “All these years…”

He stood up and began pacing his room, his hand in his red hair.  “Tell me it’s not true.” He demanded.  “I already knew that Shouto was meant to replace me.  But Natsuo?” He paused and stared at his mother.

She looked way shamefully. 

His breaths began to come out in ragged gasps as he fought the tears coming to his eyes. 

“Fuyumi?”

“No, not Fuyumi.  Not initially, at least.”

Right.  Because his quirk had just manifested when she was born.  His father didn’t know yet how weak and limited his body was; he’d still believed it was something that could be worked past, that it was something Touya could control.  Which meant that Fuyumi was wanted.  Lucky her.  No wonder his father seemed to favor her over everyone else.

He sat on his bed, his head in his hands.  “What the FUCK.”

All these years, he’d assumed his father had believed in him, and only gave up on him right before he was set to apply to UA.  Even then, he’d thought that his father only abandoned him as a way to protect Touya from hurting himself, or even worse, killing himself.  That was why his father hadn’t let him get healed back then, right? That was the lesson he was supposed to learn?  To accept his weakness and take his mortality seriously?  Sure, there was the whole thing about ruining the family’s reputation, but he’d always hoped that deep down, there was more to it than that. There had to be.

But no. None of it was true. It was all about HIM.  His father and his stupid, obsessive goal to beat All Might, even if it was only through his progeny.  Touya was nothing but a tool to him, a means to an end.  And when he couldn’t meet his father’s needs, he became nothing more than a contingency plan.  In the meantime, his father kept trying to make the perfect hero.  The perfect quirk.

And he’d finally succeeded.

Touya stared at his scarred hands. “Did… did he ever even love me?” The words fell from his mouth, a forbidden, broken whisper.

His mother’s arms were around him then, cradling him to her chest.  “Of course, he loves you.  I swear it.”

The warmth of her embrace made him turn his attention on her, and suddenly a revelation hit him, cutting into him like a thousand knives.  His body went rigid, his eyes wide.

“You knew.” He whispered.  He forced her arms off of him and stood up, towering over her with his height.  She took a step back, her eyes wide.  “You knew and you never told me.”

He turned his back to her, unable to look at her.

“Touya, please...” she begged, her voice quivering.

He didn’t want to hear it. There was nothing she could say that could fix this.  His father was one thing… he’d accepted that he was an abusive, shitty father.  But his mother?  His mother who he’d confided in?  His mother who was supposed to protect him?  His mother… who he trusted?  Why didn’t she ever tell him?

The betrayal was too much. It cut too deep.  His entire childhood was a lie, years wasted by those who were supposed to love and support him.

Disgust filled him.  He wanted her gone.  Out of his room, out of his life.

“Touya!” she said desperately.  She reached out to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at bridging the growing chasm between them.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” He shouted. 

Flames erupted across his body, uncontrolled, as his arm shoved her away from him.  She stumbled back with such force that she collided into the wall before slumping down against it.  She didn’t get up.  Instead, she sat there with her knees drawn up like a child, her body wracked with sobs.

He stared at her, horrified, as his blue flames died away on his skin.  He wanted to go to her, to reach out and help her, apologies falling frantically from his lips.  He took a cautious step forward, one hand outstretched towards her.  But she shied away from him, her arms wrapping protectively around her head.

“No! Enji, please!”

Her words stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, he lowered his hand and stared in stunned silence as his mother babbled incoherent apologies.  Something shattered within himself, sinking away to leave a hollowness in its place.

He ran.

Dabi was drowning, as the weight of his past washed over him, choking him.

That was the longest one yet.  And the most painful.  It ripped at the exposed tender places in his heart, places he’d thought were long-since dead.

Dabi’s vision blurred and he wiped at his nose.  This was what he did.  He lashed out, hurting those close to him, those who didn’t deserve it.  It was the same with you. It was who he was, it was who he was made to be. It’d only be a matter of time before it happened again.

He lifted his cigarette to take another puff but stopped when he realized that it had burned down to the filter, leaving a trail of ash in its wake on the desk.

He unpacked another cigarette and lit it.  His hand began to unscrew the whiskey bottle.

She had avoided him after that, and he avoided her.  It wasn’t long after that rainy day that his mother had her mental breakdown, scalding Shouto in an attempt to burn away the image of her husband.  Or was she trying to burn away the image of Touya? Was there even a difference in her mind?

The news had shocked him, and he ran as fast as his legs could take him.  He burst into Enji’s office, forcing himself into his father’s presence.

“Where is she?” Touya demanded, his chest heaving from exertion.

Enji frowned at the intrusion, looking up from his paperwork at his desk.  He was dressed professionally, in a white button-up shirt with a blue tie.

“Who?” He demanded.

Touya clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ground together.  God, did he hate him…

“My mother. You know, your wife.  The one you knock up every four years and the ignore.”

Enji menacingly rose from his chair, his blue eyes carrying the threat of violence within them. He towered over Touya, his presence casting a shadow from the wall sconces behind him.

“You watch your tone with me, boy.” Enji said coldly.  “I will not be disrespected in my own house.”

Touya knew if he pushed it, he’d never get what he came here for.  So, he sucked up his anger and pride, bowing deep in apology. “Yes, sir.” Touya muttered with downcast eyes. “Forgive me.   I just want to know where she is.”

Enji paused for a moment, staring down at his son before returning to his seat and picking up his pen.  “She’s been admitted to the Musutafu Mental Institution.” He replied as he marked his paper.

A pause filled the space before Touya asked his next question.  “Can I see her?”

“No.”

Touya’s breath stopped, his mind unable to wrap around the simple word that fell like a judge’s gavel. His father’s answer was cold and final, said with such heartless ease.  He stared in disbelief.

He thought he had time to mend things, to finally overcome his cowardice and atone for his actions.  But there was no atoning now.  He’d lost her.  Tears began to sting in the corners of his eyes, but he fought them back; his father always hated it when he cried.

“So that’s it…? She’s gone?”

“It was for the best.” Enji replied.  “She attacked my son, almost made him useless.  Now I can train him without her interfering.”

“Is that all you care about?”  The words fell from Touya’s mouth before he could stop them, covered in bitterness.

Enji’s pen stopped scribbling.  An agonizing ten seconds passed before he set it down and looked up at Touya, pinning him with his sharp eyes, dark eyebrows pulled down into an angry frown.  “Excuse me?”

Touya steeled himself against his father’s wrath as the rage he’d been keeping to himself burst forth against its creator. 

“Is that all you care about?” he repeated.  “Your wife is in a mental institution and your son is scarred for life, but all you can think about is surpassing All Might?”

Enji pinned him with a look that was almost akin to pity.  “How small-minded you are.  This was always your problem, Touya. Your mother too.  You both lacked vision, an inability to see the bigger picture. That was why you were never able to push past your limits.  But Shouto… Shouto will be different.”

Enji’s accusations made Touya’s lips curl into a snarl.  “Do you even hear yourself?” he spat.  “No wonder she went crazy.  She wasn’t attacking Shouto, she was attacking you!  This is all your fault, and you don’t even care. You’re a shit father, and a worse husband.”

The pity in his father’s eyes turned to ice, and the man quietly set his pen down before standing up from his desk.  “Shouto said the same thing.” He grumbled.  “I excused it coming from him, because he’s young and doesn’t understand yet.  But you… you should know better.”  He loosened his tie and began to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves.  “I’ve been too lenient on you.  It looks like there are some lessons I still have yet to teach you.”

Touya took a step back at the obvious gesture.

Enji stared down at him in disgust.  “Look at you. Already scared.  You’re just as pathetic as before.”

Touya went into a defensive stance, his blue flames igniting across his skin.

His father scowled. “You dare raise your flames against me, boy?” His own flames erupted along his body.  “Very well.  If you’re going to talk like a man and fight like a man, then you will learn to accept your consequences like a man.”

Dabi took a drag of his new cigarette, already burned halfway from neglect.  He inhaled deeply, wanting the toxic fumes to fill the gaping hole in his chest.  It didn’t.

He picked up the now-open whiskey bottle and poured it to the halfway point of the plastic cup.  There was no ice to chill it, but it would have to do.  He took a swig, letting the fiery taste coat his tongue, burning away the taste of ash.

Enji had taken him outside into the courtyard, where he received the worst beating he’d ever gotten. His father’s blows lacked the restraint he typically exercised, fueled by a dark rage.  It had left Touya gagging and coughing, crumpled on the floor in a heap. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to think. 

The beating may have been five minutes or it may have been five hours. He couldn’t really tell. All he did know was that no one came.  Just like all the times before, no one came to say something, to stop him, even though the sound of their conflict shook the Todoroki grounds, incinerating nearby bushes and damaging the exposed framework of the surrounding buildings. And after his father had left, removing his tie and his shirt to clean the blood from them, Touya had laid there alone in the dirt, staring up at the cold, lifeless, star-studded night sky as an unforgiving universe stared back.  He wanted to die.

It felt like eternity had passed before two sets of hands gently grabbed him and helped him up, each of his arms going around familiar shoulders.  His siblings had finally come for him, now that his father was out of sight and they knew they were safe from his wrath.  They had helped Touya to his bed, where Fuyumi tended to his wounds in silence and Natsuo sat beside her, his mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

Dabi took another couple of decent gulps of his whiskey, resisting the urge to down the entire contents and pour another cup.  How much did he pour?  Four shots worth?  Five? He needed it to kick in.  If he was going to be forced to relive every bad memory he ever had, then he’d be here all night. 

His body was worn down, his spirit tired.  He really didn’t want to feel anymore.

But the alcohol wasn’t working fast enough; his brain wouldn’t stop.

It was late at night, the moon high in the sky, the air cold with the hint of rain as clouds rolled in from the distance.  It had been a few days since Touya’s beating, but despite his sister’s protests, he decided to leave the confines of his room and take a walk on the family compound.

That was how he ended up here, six feet away from the training room.  The light was off, but he could hear the sound of fists hitting, and every now and then the room would light up with bright orange flame.  But there was no lecturing, no young voice crying.  Touya knew Shouto wasn’t in there this time.  He was still in bed, recovering from the burn his mother had inflicted. Enji was furious, pacing the grounds like an angry bear, snapping at staff and family and locking himself away in his training room to work out his frustrations, constantly striving for a goal he’d never be able to achieve.

Touya inwardly scoffed.  If anyone should be admitted to a mental institution, it should be his father. The man was literally driven insane by his inability to surpass All Might.  But of course, that would never happen.  His father was the number two hero.  He was “untouchable.”  There was no one brave enough or strong enough to make that man face his own demons. It made Touya curl his nose up at the hypocrisy.

An odd silence drew Touya out of his thoughts.  The sounds of fists impacting dummies and training equipment had stopped, the flames no longer bathing the ground in light through the open door.  Then he heard it – an unfamiliar sound, one he’d never heard before. He furrowed his brow in confusion and inched closer to the open door before risking a peek inside.

The moonlight spilled in just enough for him to see the hulking form of his father, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.  His great shoulders shook, and finally Touya realized the sound he was hearing.

His father was crying.

Disgust filled Touya, sour and bitter.  For all of his father’s posturing, for all of his grandiose lectures about strength and commitment, here he was, sobbing like a baby.  And for what?  For his inability to reach his dreams, while his family fell apart around him?

Or was he crying FOR his family?

Touya pushed the possibility away, burying it deep, deep down where he refused to give the idea any chance of blooming into a belief.

No.  This man didn’t feel for his family.  He wasn’t ALLOWED to feel for his family.  He was the reason his family was as broken as it was, every single one of them able to tie their scars back to him and his selfish actions.

Touya hated him.

And yet he loved him.  How fucked up was that? He could feel it in his irrational urge to go to him and offer support, a support he’d never once received.  And that just made him hate him more, because despite all that his father had done to him, Touya still fucking cared.

His father wasn’t worthy of it.  He didn’t deserve Touya’s love, or his mother’s love, or anyone’s love for that matter.

And he certainly didn’t deserve to cry.

Touya fled.  He fled from his feelings, he fled from his fears, taking only his righteous anger with him and riding it like a hellhound. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring the pain that sliced through him from his father’s abuse.  His lungs burned. His ribs ached.  As he ran, his thoughts followed, chasing him and swooping on him like a flock of crows, pecking at his sanity.

He ended up in an abandoned warehouse, a quarter mile from his house, across the railroad tracks that marked the separation of ritzy upper-class life and industrial city complexes. He fell to his knees, his palms landing hard on the dirt-strewn floor inside the old building, as sobs ripped lose from his throat, harsh and painful.

He hated him.  He hated him more than anything.  How could he have ever idolized him?  How could he have ever loved him?  His father was selfish.  He was destructive. He was cruel.  And now his father cried like a baby, as if he were a victim in all of this.

He wasn’t a victim. And he certainly wasn’t a hero.

What kind of hero saved civilians while simultaneously destroying his family behind closed doors? That wasn’t a hero.  It was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And it was devouring his family.  His helpless, innocent family.

They deserved justice. They deserved saving.  Where was hero society in all of this?  Lining his father’s pockets, placing him on a pedestal to be worshipped.  His father always preached about Touya accepting the consequences of his actions.  So where were Enji’s consequences?

As long as his father continued to reign supreme, his family would never be safe.  His family would never heal.  His mother would never recover. Natsuo would never be freed of his anger. Shouto would never get to decide who he is and who he wants to be. Fuyumi would be weighed down by her obligation to her family, foregoing her own dreams to take care of them all.

His father needed to be gone.  Permanently.  Only then would his family be safe.  Only then would they be free.

But Touya… Touya would never be free.  He understood that now, even as his hatred and anger consumed him.  He was just like his father, a proverbial chip-off-the-old-block.  He’d managed to take all the worst parts of him and make them a part of himself. His obsessive nature, his anger, his jealousy… his violence.  He could feel it in his blood.

If his family wasn’t safe with Enji, then what made Touya any different? He’d already played a hand in his mother’s mental demise.  How could he be sure he wouldn’t hurt the rest as tie went on?

He was just like his father.

He hated his father.

He hated himself.

He wanted to die.

So then, who better to take on the Behemoth?  Who better than his father’s son, the monster he’d made?

Touya had to kill Endeavor.  He had to kill his father.  His father, who he couldn’t even beat in a fight.  He was stupid.  A fool. But there were no other options.  No other paths to justice.  And Touya was tired of waiting for justice.

Touya’s sob turned into a dry laugh.  Was this what it meant to be heroic?  To bear the weight of this responsibility, even if it cost him his soul?  Even if it killed him?

His dry laugh grew into a series of laughs, wild and hysterical, as tears ran down his face, while the reality of what he was committing to tore him asunder.  As he heaved and coughed, a heat began to overtake him, building so quickly that by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late.  Searing, blue flames blasted out of him in such magnitude and such intensity that the windows of the abandoned warehouse exploded, glass shards melting from the intense heat as they rained down.  The flames roared outward, reaching for the night sky through the now-glassless windows, groping and writhing, their fierceness never waning.

Touya couldn’t stop it.  The flames scorched through him and consumed him, the sound of it raging in his ears, his body devoured by agony as his quirk ate at him, destroying him from the inside out.  Above him, the heat of the flames began to melt the structural metal beams.

But his hysterical laughter and tears couldn’t stop, even as smoke left his scorched lungs with each exhale and his mouth tasted ash.  A screeching sound filled the space, the sound of metal bending and breaking.  The beams gave way, the roof caving in as destruction rained down around him, silencing his laughter.

…..

Nothing but bright blue fire and broken remains filled his vision.  Slowly, a dark form began to take shape amongst the flames, tall and towering.  It was him. He’d come for him.

The flames parted, and he saw himself as he was now: black hair, dark scars, staples glinting in the firelight.  The sound of a funeral bell tolled and his mouth opened, forming a single word.  A name.

A gentle knock caused the image to begin to fade away like mist, even as the funeral bells still rang in Dabi’s ears.

“Dabi?” He knew that voice. It was you.

Groggily, Dabi opened his eyes to find himself still in his chair at his desk, his head resting on his arm. His forgotten cup of whiskey sat unmoved, inches from his fingers.  It was a dream.  He’d fallen asleep.

Another knock at the door, slightly louder, made him sit up.

“...Dabi?” you called again.

“Yeah.” He grumbled. He rubbed at his face.  “Yeah, yeah.”

His body felt stiff and his neck had a horrible kink in it.  He checked the time on his phone.  5:45am.  Why in God’s name were you up so early?  And why were you knocking on his door?

He stood up and stretched his back, and that was when he felt it – a sharp itching pain that ran along his spine, chased by the agony in his legs.  It was worse than he remembered it being before he’d passed out. Your quirk was starting to wear off.

It looked like you were right on time.

He grabbed the end of his metal desk with one hand and pulled, dragging it slowly away from the door. The sound was grating, like nails on a chalkboard.  If people weren’t awake before, they definitely were now.

As if on cue, three harsh bangs resonated from the wall next him.  “What the hell, Dabi???” Spinner’s voice yelled through the wall.  “People are trying to sleep!”

“Bite me.”  Dabi snapped back before opening the door for you, and stared, giving you an obvious once-over.  You were completely dressed, in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, as if you’d been up for hours.  Dark circles framed your tired eyes. “Hey, doll.” He greeted.

Your heart did a flip before you even knew what hit you, leaving you standing there like a deer in headlights.  It’d been a cool minute since he’d called you that; you didn’t realize how much you’d grown attached to it.

It took you a moment to realize that he was holding the door open for you, inviting you in.  Once you were across the threshold, Dabi closed the door behind you.

“Sorry… did I wake you?” You asked, as your eyes took in the room.  His desk was haphazardly pulled away from the door, covered in plastic bags. The room stank of cigarette smoke and alcohol.  A bottle of whiskey sat incriminatingly on the desk, some of its contents missing.  You picked up the bottle and stared at it before pinning Dabi with a glare.  You knew he knew better.  For someone who was so experienced with drugs, he certainly did do some stupid shit.

“Really?” you scolded.

“Don’t start with me.” Dabi grumbled as he rubbed at his neck. He pulled out an electrolyte drink and downed its contents, wiping his mouth with his hand once it was empty.  “There, you happy?”  He moved on to a bag of chips, crunching loudly as he chewed in annoyance.

Normally, you would have been more diplomatic, navigated the waters a little bit more when you saw them getting choppy.  But you slept like shit again last night, waking up repeatedly from bad dreams only to worry about this idiot while he decided to try to self-medicate by drinking his problems away.

“Don’t get mad at me for calling you out on your bullshit.” You replied.  “If you act like an idiot, then I’m gonna treat you like one.”

“How’s it look up there on your high horse?” Dabi retorted.

“What?”

“It must be exhausting being so fucking perfect.  Makes everyone else around you look like such fucking failures.”  He turned his angry eyes away from you as he sat down on the end of his bed, running a hand through his messy black hair.

His words slapped you, and you stared at him for a long moment, taking in the sight of him.  His eyes looked tired, his cheeks sallow.  His hair looked tangled and unwashed.  When was the last time he took a shower?  His hand kept rubbing at his neck, no doubt nursing a sore spot.  He must have fallen asleep at his desk after a rough night.  You recalled the night you’d helped him through his withdrawal, and the breakdown it had culminated in.  No doubt he was up all night battling his inner demons.  Alone.  Without your help this time.  Guilt soaked through your frustration.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered. “You’re right, I shouldn’t judge. It’s just…” You sat down in his desk chair.  “I’m trying so hard to help you.  And… well…”

“What?” Dabi prodded. “You think I’m not trying?”

Your eyes fell on the desk, which sat askew in his room, and the bags full of various items that were obviously intended to help Dabi get through the night.  “No…” you replied.  “I know you are.  I just wish you took better care of yourself.”

“I take care of myself just fine.”

Your brow furrowed. “I mean it, Dabi.” You rubbed at your face tiredly, letting your fatigue finally show.  “I’m worrying about you, probably more than I should.  I’m pushing my body to its limits, I can’t sleep, and when I do, I dream about you.  Then I wake up, and I worry even more because I can never be entirely sure that you’re okay.”

You felt your body flush with heat at your sudden confession, and you looked at your hands in embarrassment. You weren’t supposed to say that. You weren’t supposed to say any of that.  Stupid, no-good, tired, foggy brain.

A shit-eating grin spread across Dabi’s face, his eyes lighting up in amusement.  “You dream about me, eh?”

“Shut up.” You grumbled. You grabbed a crumpled-up napkin and threw it at Dabi’s head.  It fell pitifully to the floor, three feet from where he sat.

Dabi stared at the failed attack and gave a laugh.  “That was pathetic.”

You tried to suppress a grin.  “I said shut up.  God, you’re such a brat.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Dabi finally spoke.  “Gotta solution to your problem… Stop worrying so much.”

You gave a small half-smirk. “Sorry, not gonna happen.” You replied.  “I worry about my friends.  That’s just how I am.”

Something did a flip in Dabi’s chest, and he averted his eyes.  “Friends, huh?  You don’t even know me.”

“I know you better today than I did a few days ago…”

He gave a dry laugh. You weren’t wrong…

“If we’re not friends when this is all over, then I will be greatly offended.” You teased. “Besides… like your company.”

Dabi stared at you like you grew a second head.  You liked his company? For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.  Most of the time you’d spent together so far was him either feeling like shit or being an asshole.

But he liked your company too even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, and for the moment he didn’t feel like fighting it.  He’d argue with himself later over it for sure, but for right now… he enjoyed feeling your presence, enjoyed how your words wrapped around him like a warm blanket, safe and secure.  His memories still sat upon his shoulders, lurking like crows, but they were silent for now, and he was pretty sure that it had something to do with you being here.

Your voice broke through his thoughts.  “Let’s change your bandage.  Are you okay waiting until I’m done treating you to get your pills?”

“Why, are you punishing me for drinking?” he replied. It took you a moment before you caught on that he was teasing.

You grinned and raised an eyebrow at him.  “No, but now that you mention it, we should probably wait until after we’re done since I don’t know how long ago it was that you drank.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.  Now you were just doing this on purpose…

You sat behind him on the bed and began unpacking your materials while he removed his shirt.  When you removed his bandage, you stared at the healing burn for a moment.

“How’s it look?” He asked, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

“It’s healing okay, but it’s still going to take some time until you don’t need the bandages.”

Regardless of the status of his burn, he still needed to see you twice a day for your quirk treatment and pills.  It was exhausting, and you were grateful that so far the others only returned with minor injuries.  But that could change at any moment, and you needed to be able to handle it; otherwise, Shigaraki would start to question your value.

You could only hope that your seller could find a way to expedite Dabi’s medication.  And your own too.  You’d counted what you had left before you’d arrived, and you were getting low. Dangerously low.  You could get through today and tomorrow morning, but if you didn’t have your refills by then…

You tried not to think about it.

You changed his bandages easily and began applying your quirk to his scarred skin just as you’d done the night before.  When you adjusted your position to handle the scars on his front half, the fear crept up again.  But this time, you were able to wrangle it successfully, only hesitating for a moment before you continued.  You broke the silence with words, a helpful distraction from your increasing discomfort and wandering thoughts.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You commented.

He eyed you for a moment, waiting for another lecture.  But it never came and when your eyes met his in a quick glance, there was no judgment in them.

“Only once in a while.” He replied.

You read between the lines of his answer. “Does it help?”

“A little.”

Silence fell again as you became increasingly focused on your quirk.  Your back was itching painfully again, and your heightened senses were making the light in the room seem far too bright.  Still, your fingers traced along his neck, taking special care to make sure no space was left untouched.  Dabi watched your face, inches from his own.  That was when he noticed it.  Something was wrong.  Your smile was gone, your lips now pressed into a firm line.  You took your breaths in through your nose, and your brows were pulled together as you focused.  Your hands were starting to shake.  Were you scared again?  Or was it something else?

Just as your hands began to reach his face, he grabbed your hands in his own and pulled back slightly out of your reach.  “Stop.”

Your eyes focused on him. “What?  Why?”

“Your quirk.  Does it hurt?” his tone was stern.  

You stared at him, your expression caught like a deer in headlights before looking away abashedly.

“Yeah, sort of.” You replied.

Dabi held your hands, as he waited for a better answer than what you gave him.

Finally, you slowly pulled our hands out of his grasp, his touch leaving electricity on your skin, and sat on the bed next to him with your hands clasped together.

“So, you know how when I use my quirk, it numbs your pain?”  Dabi waited silently for you to continue. “It sort of has an opposite effect on me. The more I use it, the more heightened my senses become.  And if I use my quirk too much, then it becomes… uncomfortable.”

Dabi stared at his hands as you spoke, his brow pulled down into a dark frown.  All this time… he knew you were pushing yourself to your limits; hell, you even said so earlier.  But he had assumed it just caused fatigue.  He never knew that it caused you pain.  How had he never noticed?  How many times had you treated him?

How much did you use your quirk on the first night of his withdrawal?  How far did you really push yourself?

A car alarm went off outside of his open window, and your hands immediately flew up to cover your ears against the assault, your heart pounding. Once the pain and panic dissipated, you lowered your hands, embarrassment hot in your blood.  It was the first time Dabi saw this part of you, and it made you feel weak and vulnerable.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

Dabi hated those words.  He especially hated hearing them from you.  What the hell did you have to be sorry about?  Anger bubbled in him, old and familiar.  But he forced it down, aware of what his anger did to you as the memories flitted across his mind like a warning.

“It’s fine.”  Dabi replied, keeping his voice even.

Dabi’s mind began turning over this new piece of information, fitting the missing puzzle piece into what little he did have. He became acutely aware of how little he really knew about you.

“Is that what those drugs are for?” he asked.

You paused for a moment, contemplating if you should spin your truth to fit his theory.  But it didn’t feel right.  Earlier you said you considered him a friend. Did you keep secrets from friends?

How much did you really trust him?  How much did he trust you?

He was already trusting you more than you were, letting you help him through something very personal.  You’d seen him vulnerable far more than he’d seen you vulnerable.  So how would he feel if he learned you were keeping the truth from him? 

You wondered how he’d react.  If anyone would understand the pain you went through, it’d be him.  If anything, it might make the two of you closer.  You couldn’t deny that the idea of that resonated with an unspoken need within you.

“Sort of.” You replied, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt.  “I can’t use them for my sensory overload.  It’d take too many to really have an impact, and I’d probably O.D. if I tried.”

“So, what are they for?”

Wow.  He really wanted to know.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as your words got stuck somewhere between your mouth and your insecurity.  It’d been so long since you’d talked about it, since you’d acknowledged it with another person.  What if he laughed?  After all, how ridiculous did you look complaining about a single scar compared to Dabi??  Or worse, what if he didn’t care at all?

But he’d asked, and now he was waiting for an answer. 

The words still wouldn’t come, so you positioned yourself with your back facing him and lifted your shirt slightly, exposing the damaged flesh beneath.

Dabi’s eyes widened.  He knew a burn scar when he saw one.  And not just any burn scar.  There was a pattern to it, a story in its twisted, marred flesh.  This was done by a quirk.  It spread across your lower back, the edge of it dipping beneath the hem of your pants.  His hand began to reach out, fingers twitching with the urge to touch it, as if his touch could take the hateful mark off of you.  But he caught himself, his fingers inches from your skin, and clenched his hand into a tight fist.

A long, heavy silence begin to fill the space between you while a thousand questions perched on the edge of his lips as he grappled with this new information and the emotions that erupted from it.

The silence dragged on, and you lowered your shirt, as heart-pounding anxiety smothered you.  It filled the dark spaces in you, the weak places where confidence had abandoned you. It settled into a could dread that made you unable to turn around and face him.  Why wasn’t he saying anything?  You squeezed your eyes closed as tears pricked at the corners.

Did you make a mistake?  You shouldn’t have shown him.  You should have just brushed it off or lied when you had the chance.

Tears began to slip down your cheeks, and you struggled to stop them.  But they wouldn’t stop, and you wiped away at them angrily, sniffling as you struggled to contain yourself.

The sound of your distress snapped Dabi out of his obsessive thoughts.  You were crying.  Why?

Was it something he said? But he didn’t say anything.

Was it something he did? But he didn’t do anything.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He had no words of comfort, and he certainly couldn’t hold you, not without crossing a boundary he’d set for himself.  You had called him a friend.  How did friends comfort each other?  He had no fucking clue.

He scratched at his head awkwardly before standing up.  He bit his cheek from the pain in his legs.  Your pills had worn off, and they were in desperate need of attention.  But he forced it into submission, instead making his way to his desk to retrieve a clean napkin and handing it to you.

The small gesture seemed to help, as you gave a small chuckle and accepted the gift, wiping at your eyes as you averted your tear-stained face from him.

“I’m sorry.” You said with a sheepish laugh.

There was that fucking phrase again.

“Don’t be.” He replied.

That answer seemed to help, too.  You finally turned to face him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“I know guys typically freak out when they see a girl cry.” You commented.  “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Your emotional reaction embarrassed you, and now you were struggling to save face.

“It’s fine.” He grabbed the bag of chips from earlier and grabbed a couple for himself before holding the bag out to you in offering.  You shook your head, keeping your eyes on your lap. 

“It’s just… it’s been a long time since I’ve shared this with anyone.” You tried to explain.  Not entirely truthful, but not entirely a lie either.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” He replied.

“No, it’s fine.” You replied.  “I understand why you wanted to know.”

Silence followed for a moment, filled only by the sound of Dabi’s crunching.  It grated on your ears, but you didn’t want to say anything, glad that he was at least eating something.  Instead, you tried to cover the noise of his chips with your voice.

“It doesn’t hurt all the time…” you explained.  “Only when my quirk gets overused.  That’s what the pills are for.”

 “What about your sensory overload?” Dabi asked.

You were grateful that the conversation was progressing forward, leaving your mini breakdown in the past.  

 “Usually it’s a matter of reducing exposure.  Turning off lights, quieting noises, that kind of thing.” You replied.

 As you spoke, Dabi watched you. He watched the way you never seemed to look up from your lap for very long, your eyes avoiding the light of his lamp.  Your shoulders were hunched against the cold (or was it the pain?), and he recalled how the car alarm before had made you cover your ears.  

 He grabbed another chip as his mind analyzed all the things that he’d missed before.  As soon as it crunched under his teeth, he saw your hands squeeze tightly on the hem of your shirt before loosening again.

 He stared at the bag, before holding it up to you.  “This bothers you?” he asked.

 You averted your eyes, embarrassed.  “Just a little.”

 He slowly put the bag down on the desk, careful not to have it crinkle too loudly.  “Why didn’t you say something?”

 You shrugged.  He scowled.  Then, he stood up with a wince, and closed his open window, drawing the curtains closed to block the brightening daylight.  As he walked back to sit on the bed next to you, he turned off his lamp, plunging the room into darkness that faded to a comfortable dim light once your eyes had adjusted to the change, morning light seeping into the room at an acceptable level.

 You could feel the relief immediately, and you stared at him, bewildered not just by his kindness, but by his awareness.  Was he really paying attention to you that closely?  It made your blood rush in your ears and your heart do somersaults.

 “Thank you.” You said softly.  

 “It’s not a big deal.” He replied as he leaned back and stared at the light dancing on the ceiling. It was the least he could do, he thought.  This discomfort you were feeling was because of him, after all.  Besides, after all you’d done for him – were still doing for him – he figured you’d earned a little bit of kindness in return.

 But only for you.

 Dammit.

 He really was a lost cause.

 “I’m feeling better now…” you said.  “I can finish treating your scars.”

 “It’s fine.” Dabi lied.

 You stood up and faced him. “Let me at least treat your legs. I wasn’t able to get to them last night.”

 “I said it’s fine.”

 “Dabi��” he looked at you and was met with a knowing look on your face.  “Trust me.  I know my limits.  Besides, this is literally my job.”  

 Dabi frowned at you. “No, your job is to treat injuries, not help drug addicts.”

 “My job is to make sure everyone is able to function to the best of their ability.” You countered. You crossed your arms with a smug look. “Don’t make me go tell Shigaraki that you’re being a bad patient.”

 He scowled and looked away. You took that as a surrender and sent him into the bathroom to change into shorts to make your job easier. When he came back out, he was still frowning.

 “You play dirty.” He complained.  “And not in a fun way.”

 You grinned but didn’t respond as you focused on running your hands along his scarred legs, starting at above the knee.  By the time you were done, your quirk was riding the brink, your back on fire again. But you gritted your teeth and bore it, even as sweat beaded across your face.

 You went to your bag and began to rummage through it, wincing as you bent over.  Your back was facing Dabi, your butt in the air, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the view.  A subtle smirk tugged at his lips.  But the grin was short lived; it fell as soon as you stood up, holding the familiar pill bottle in your hand.

 “No.” Dabi said adamantly.

 “Give me a break.” You replied, as you opened the container. “What other options do we have?”

 You held out the three pills towards him, but he stared at them.  “I can’t take these.” He said.

 You took his hand in yours and placed the pills into his palm, closing his fingers over them. “You can, and you will.” You replied. “Besides, it’s temporary, remember?”

 He opened his mouth to protest, but a ding sounded within the room that made you nearly jump out of your skin with your sensitive hearing.  You clumsily pulled your phone out of your bag and opened up your text messages.  Your eyes lit up, and a smile spread across your face before you put the phone away in your bag.

 “Good news,” you said. “Looks like the refills for my pills will be ready for pickup tomorrow.”

 “What about mine?” Dabi asked.

 Your expression fell slightly.  “He didn’t mention them, so I’m guessing they’re not ready yet.”

 “Well that fucking sucks.”

 “It’s not all bad… once I get my refill, there will be enough for both of us.  I asked him to double up the pills so there’d be enough. Then I can really start treating you properly until your pills arrive.  See?  I told you it’d be temporary…”

 Dabi looked up at your happy face and couldn’t deny the relief he felt knowing you weren’t going to be hurting yourself for him for much longer.  “Fine.” He replied.  He swallowed the pills before he could change his mind.

 You picked up your bag with another wince and made your way to the door.  Dabi stood up to follow you, relishing in the painless effort of walking.  He felt like he could run.

 Before you opened his door, you half-turned to him.  “Get some more rest.”  You wrinkled your nose at him.  “And maybe take a shower.  And brush your teeth.”

 Dabi rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

 After you left, he paused for a moment before sniffing his armpit.  He didn’t really smell that bad… did he?

________________________________

Part 9

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[thewayshedreamed]

Death Dance

Thank you for the prompt submission, Nonnie! I really liked this one.

Prompt: Can u write a Nessian fic involving Cassian seeing Nesta with her hair down for the first time? 🙏

A/N: This starts with an excerpt from A Court of Wings and Ruin, page 408. That scene was my inspiration for this prompt <3

acotar masterlist

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Cassian had been born for this—these fields, this chaos and brutality and calculation.

He didn’t stop moving, seemed to know where every opponent fought both ahead and behind, seemed to breathe in the flow of the battle around him. He even let his Siphons’ shield drop—to get close, to feel the impact of the arrows that he took in that ebony shield. If he slammed that shield into a soldier, his other arm was already swinging his sword at the next opponent. 

I’d never seen anything like it—the skill and precision. It was like a dance. 

I must have said it aloud because Mor replied, “For him, that’s what battle is. A symphony.” 

Her eyes did not stray from Cassian’s death-dance.

------

“STOP!” Cassian bellowed.

At his instruction, the clashes of steel ceased. Two flaps of his grand wings, and he was airborne, traveling the 100 or so yards to where Nesta stood. He landed firmly on the ground in front of her, sending vibrations through the earth beneath her feet. His brow was furrowed, nostrils flared, and his shoulders were tense as he assessed her.

“Problem, Commander?” she asked him dryly.

He huffed a breath through his nose, squaring his shoulders for the verbal sparring that he knew was coming.

“Nesta, who was your target?” he demanded.

“Cassian, I don’t understand the problem. You have trained me for battle, shaped my skills into what they are. Now, you scold me for employing them?”

It was true. The General Commander had started training her all those months ago, refining her physical competencies in battle as well as her strategy. Although resistant to his help when they originally arrived in Illyria, Nesta had been a talented pupil, her skills increasing at an exponential rate. Her wit and propensity for strategy served her well, and her mental tenacity helped fuel her progress through her lessons in technique.

Today was a day of group trainings, including battle drills designed to expose the legions to various strategies and threats alike. Nesta woke with an excitement on drill days, the opportunity to practice her skills pulling her from her bed earlier than any other day. She came alive in combat scenarios, as they allowed her to employ her newly honed skills without giving her the time to ruminate too much over which strategies to utilize. Only times of crisis were strong enough to compete with the brutality of her thoughts.

Additionally, she felt a compulsion to never find herself in another situation like the war with Hybern.

“Your skills are fine, and you know it. But you aren’t alone, Nesta.” His wings twitched, exposing his irritation. His voice was all rasp and intense focus; nothing of the pure and genuine male that existed off the battlefield.

“I’m fully aware, but I was disarming them easily. I don’t see why I shouldn’t take care of it.” She tossed her long braid over her shoulder, the end of it landing on her leathers just above the small of her back with a soft slap.

“You are engaging every enemy, but they are not your intended target. You need to evade them and allow your legion to support you as you move,” he reminded her firmly. “So I ask you again, who was your target?”

“How am I supposed to make peace with leaving my comrades behind me, unsure of their fate?” she spat.

His nostrils flared, his patience fraying by the second. “You have a responsibility to ensure your specific skill set is where it needs to be when it needs to be there. You are not a hero for clearing the field ahead of them, only to exhaust yourself prematurely or get yourself killed,” he seethed. “Your death leaves them unprepared for your intended target and increases the odds that they die as well.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek as she considered his words.

“So should I have left you there, too? Bleeding out on that battlefield?” she hissed.

He recoiled as if she struck him, obviously surprised to hear her mention the moment they shared during the battle with Hybern. This was the first and only time she had done so.

He took a deep breath before he spoke. “Who,” he asked through clenched teeth, “was your target?”

“You,” she said through a snarl.

“Correct. Move through this field, allow your fellow soldiers to support you. Save your energy for when you get to me.” he ordered, leaving no room for protest. He took off without waiting for her reply, the wind from his wings blowing back the loose strands of hair around her face.

He repositioned himself in the target location, his shield in place. Once he lowered it, they were to begin. Nesta fell in line with the other soldiers, steeling herself for when that red shield disappeared. She was still angry, but she felt a sense of calm wash over her as her focus shifted. Cassian waited for the opposing soldiers to move to their positions, then he dropped the shield.

Nesta ran, opting to pull a long dagger from the sheath along her thigh rather than pulling the sword from across her back. She knew she could move faster without the weight of the sword in her hand, and if she were meant to evade those she confronted, she felt her dagger would lend enough defense until another soldier arrived.

She never imagined that she would feel so at home on a battlefield, that these drills would become almost therapeutic. She moved forward, deftly knocking her first opponent off their center of gravity and causing them to stumble. She didn’t hesitate to move forward as instructed, daring to glance back quickly to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She was pleased to see her comrade engage the soldier, halting any plans they may have had to pursue Nesta.

She slipped into an eerie sort of calm, evading soldier after solder in her pursuit of Cassian. She could see him where he stood, waiting. She’d yet to best him in combat, and honestly didn’t hold that expectation in the absence of using magic, but she knew she was being assessed purely on her ability to get to where he was. She continued to move, only glancing back when absolutely necessary, and she was filled with a sense of honor that her back was covered every time.

She continued to feel a certain serenity surround her as she moved from one opponent to the next. She glided through them with grace and precision; as if she had learned this battle as choreography. After successfully blocking the blows targeted at her, she was already extending her dagger to the next, carrying herself through the field. There was a certain rhythm thrumming through her; her heartbeat akin to the cadence of a battle drum. She let it guide her and propel her forward, tugging her closer and closer to her target. She let it pace her, her footfalls coordinating in time with the fall of her daggers and her transitions between soldiers. Her movements came together in perfect harmony, an art form all their own.

She moved so briskly through her opponent's forces that her last obstacle to Cassian seemed to be caught off-guard by her arrival. She had him disarmed in less than a minute, promptly turning to lock eyes with the Illyrian warrior that awaited her.

He met her gaze with sheer focus, finally raising a scarred brow to her in challenge. She felt it like a blow straight to her chest; felt compelled to make her way to him. The steady beat of that battle drum pulled her once again, urging her feet forward toward the General Commander. She meant to break into a full run, but she felt a sharp tug on her long braid, snapping her head backward.

She risked a small glance at who held her. She didn't rotate her body being that she was unsure of how much that would compromise her ability to evade the attacker, but she turned her head to the side and dared a peripheral look their way.

The very last solider she'd disarmed had managed to grab hold of her braid, almost all the way at the bottom, near her lower back. She cursed herself for opting to wear it this way rather than her usual crown braid, but it seemed like an incredible amount of work for an activity that provided minimal appreciation for intricate braiding.

She saw her ally engaging with the enemy who was gripping her hair, so she knew it was not their failure to cover her that got her in this position. She had likely stopped too soon, not allowing enough distance to be created between them before pausing to assess Cassian. In those seconds, the soldier had regained access to his weapon and reached for her. It didn't surprise her, considering who had trained him. Even small opportunities could change the direction of a war, and he capitalized on her misstep in a way she had to respect, if she were honest.

All of these things burst through her brain within a couple of seconds before she started to scan it for a possible solution. Had she ever learned how to get someone to release her without getting hurt or killed in the process? The thought was pointless, because even if she had, it wasn't serving her at the moment.

And so, she moved.

— — —

From the second Cassian had lowered his red shield, his eyes were glued to the female meant to engage him at the end of her pursuit. She had arrived in Illyria with almost no skills and even fewer battle instincts, but when he had introduced her to training, she came alive. The idea that wars were ever fought without women like her was almost comical to him as he watch her graceful figure glide straight through enemy lines.

He couldn't, nor would be, discount her improvement or her skills in general. She had worked tirelessly for months, never wanting to find herself in a position similar to the day she was Made. She was strong, beautiful, and lethal with the blade in her hand. It was almost as if she were always intended for this.

He was relieved to see that she had taken his feedback into consideration rather than engaging every single soldier in hand-to-hand combat to spite him. It wouldn't have surprised him if she had being that she loved nothing more than to irritate him, but he felt touched at how seriously she was taking her training.

He watched her move through the crowd, entranced by her movements. He stood with his arms crossed, shield and Illyrian blade across his back, assessing Nesta and the others. Her team was supporting her beautifully, and he couldn't fight the smallest smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. She was almost to him now, disarming the man in front of her and pausing to look his way. He had just schooled his face into one of neutrality, thank the Cauldron, but his expressive brow quirked up of its own accord as he continued to monitor her.

That is, until the very last opponent she faced resorted to cheap shots, latching onto Nesta's hair. He gripped it as if she were the personification of his pride, floating away from him on the wind. He held a firm grip down at the bottom, yanking her head backward in the process. It took every ounce of his training to fight the vicious snarl that threatened to erupt out of him at seeing someone touch her in such a way. She paused, but she wasn't motionless for long.

Cassian knew his eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as he watched in disbelief. As fast as lightning, Nesta turned on her heel, blade in hand. The Illyrian steel went through her thick braid like a knife through warm butter, sending the offender stumbling back.

Her golden strands unraveled as she whipped around and broke into a full run toward where Cassian stood. Her hair billowed around her face, framing it in a way that took his breath away. His breath was suddenly ragged, heart pounding through his chest as she ran toward him. When her steel blue eyes raised to meet his hazel ones, he had to take a step back and steady himself from the blow of emotions that roiled through him.

He knew it then, had suspected it for some time. That one word that changed everything, and by the way her eyes widened slightly, he suspected she knew it, too. She was almost to him; had already prepared the daggers in her hands to ensure she was ready whenever he deigned to attack.

Before entertaining a coherent thought about his actions, he raised his right hand in front of him, palm toward her. She slowed to a halt about 6 feet away from him, the look in her eyes a combination of determination, frustration, and something else altogether. He couldn't breathe.

He could see his own chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his blood singing to close the distance between them. He wanted to lie to himself and claim the call of battle as the reason for his compulsion. Battle, however, was the last thing on his mind.

The wind circled the both of them, and Cassian thanked the Mother for the soothing gesture across his wings. His blood was raging, sweat pouring along the inside of his training leathers. His wings twitched with anxious energy as he continued to look at her.

Her hair was blowing around her face, a few strands slanting across it. She was a vision, the strands looking as if they were perfectly placed to frame her delicate features. Her blue eyes bore into him, made even more stunning by the contrast of the brown whipping around them. He was both angry and relieved that he'd never seen her this way before. Had he, he would have never been able to train her properly, her hair and beauty wonderfully distracting. She was the one to break the silence.

"What now, Cassian?" she scowled. "I've made it, haven't I?"

Her voice was much quieter than before the drill, almost breathy. She was looking intensely at him, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. He tracked her movements as she ran her hand through her strands, from her forehead to the crown of her head, to attempt smoothing them.

"Nesta." he managed, his voice a whisper.

She continued to look at him, that unidentifiable emotion worn all over her beautiful face.

He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to say what he needed to through his nerves.

"You're my mate."

——————————————————————————

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[vanaera]

Love at First Snow (jhs)

Synopsis | It is during the first snow Hoseok first meets Y/N. It is also during the first snow he prepares to put a ring on her. Little does he know, fate has other plans. (OR: As Hoseok relishes in the spirit of the Holiday season, he cannot help but also reminisce how you two, though entire polar opposites of each other, ended up together. Characters | dance major (and “academically-challenged”)!Hoseok x Genius!female reader (College AU) Prompt | “You know, you remind me a lot of the Grinch. The only difference is in the end, his heart grows three sizes, but you stay an asshole.” Genre | Fluff, Humor, Angst Wordcount | 16.9k (I’m sorry, this ended up longer than I intended) Warnings | Discussions of verbal abuse from toxic families and mentions of panic attacks A/N | Hi Cristine! It is I, snowflake, your secret santa! This is my gift for @bts-poetry for @bangtanarmynet, and @btsbookclub ‘s Secret Santa 2019 event! I combined this gift with the prompt I claimed in @kwritersworld’s 2019 Christmas Event as my inspirations for both events have merged into one story hehe.

              Everyone has some titles to live by. “Well-versed lawyer,” “patient teacher,” “single mother,” “broke student”—one-liner characteristics and descriptions enough for people to summarize the entirety of one another. From each other’s greatest achievements to their itty bitty mistakes, any of them can be used to replace an identifier. After all, people always see what they want to see. It all depends on what title sticks out the most to the majority around them.  For Jung Hoseok, he lives up to the title of a lovable boyfriend and a rare one, too. As whenever people look at him, the first thing they see is the aberrance of how he ended up….dating Y/N.

              There’s nothing wrong with him, or Y/N for that matter. It’s just…they are the most impossible couple to end up together as they are the most literal polar opposites of each other.

             People remember Jung Hoseok as the golden dance major of the prestigious South Tigers University. He got into the Performing Arts program, Major in Dance by acing the laborious dance audition despite his unimpressive results in the written exam. Hoseok’s colorful background from his long-term dance crew, Hope World, and his countless wins in different hip hop dance competitions were more than enough proof to know he is indeed one of the top dancers of the university. With a body capable of executing each move ever known to humankind with such grace and precision, Jung Hoseok also has a stage presence that warrants everyone’s unbridled attention. Thus, it is without question he is the prided Most Valuable Dancer of his university’s varsity dance crew, Synergy. The long line-up of trophies Synergy has placed in STU’s hall of glory, all thanks to the competitions Hoseok led, are enough to say Hoseok is literally the modern-day Apollo.

             However, it is not just his talent or insanely god-like face and physique that makes Hoseok so “golden.” Because as if Apollo wasn’t enough, Hoseok also impersonated Helios. Jung, Hoseok is warm and kind and funny. He easily makes everyone want to be his bestfriend the moment they met him. Most people often speak of him first thing in the morning with another wonderful feat he pulled off. Hoseok is great in the things he does — playing as the great wingman for people who need the extra push in their romances or becoming the occasional teacher’s pet who goes to the professor and (easily) successfully convinces them to give the class a deadline extension for a requirement. Hoseok turns up every campus party into the happiest event anyone could ever be in and he is such an amazing, sincere friend who remembers everyone’s birthday and gives out the nicest of hugs. Hell, Hoseok even volunteers in long-inactive “dead” college organizations like the Campus Drunk Patrol, Environment Protection Squad, and Animal Welfare Group in his free time. Hoseok is the literal sun and anyone who knows him — which is literally, everyone — will never be unable to deny otherwise.

             So when Hoseok expressed romantic interest in Y/N in sophomore year, everyone around him was beyond bewildered. Most especially, his friends.

             “Y/N?” Jimin sputters, “as in…The Y/N, L/N from our batch?”

             “Well, yeah-”

             “Like the Analytical Physics major Y/N L/N?” Taehyung gapes.

             “Yeah, I mean,” Hoseok sends them a questioning look, “is there any other Y/N L/N?”

             Taehyung scratches his head. “Well, no…I just thought there’s a Y/N in another batch?”

             Hoseok gives him a pointed look, unamused.

             But Taehyung’s true sentiment is voiced out when Jimin half-screams at their table, “Why her?!”

             “Well, why not her?” Hoseok half-smiles, picking on the fries that were dropped scattered onto the table after Jimin unceremoniously pounded his fist on the surface in an act of over-exaggeration.

             Taehyung sends Hoseok a disgusted look but continues his friend’s argument, “Dude, she’s like, the entire opposite of you.”

             “And that is an understatement.” Jimin points a fry toward his direction, glaring at Hoseok.

             Hoseok huffs, “Oh c'mon, you’re all just going overboard. What happened to the golden rule ‘don’t judge a book by its cover?’”

             “First of all, Y/N’s not a book,” Jimin scoffs. “She’s like, the whole fucking library of science textbooks. Last sem, we’re busy doing a group project when Y/N suddenly spewed some SOHCAHTOA shit about the Bermuda Triangle. As if the things she said are already a whole level of weird, she even said them in a manner like Liam Neeson’s ‘I don’t know who you are but I’m going to kill you’ monologue from Taken. And second of all, the golden rule is ‘do not do unto others what you do not want others to do unto you,’ dumbass.”

             “Okay I got the golden rule wrong,” Hoseok groans, “but nevertheless, you’re still violating it by judging Y/N.”

             “In our defense tho,” Taehyung mumbles over the straw of his milkshake, “Y/N judged us first. I was watching Orange one time in the library and she came over and took a seat with me. And then she said some alien gibberish about how Naho Takamiya always fall stupidly on the stairs because she said, by verbatim, ‘according to basic logic and common sense, that’s not how projectiles work,’” Taehyung clicks his tongue and Jimin cringes. Taehyung continues, “Y/N said Naho wouldn’t fly to the hallway when she tripped on the actual steps. She even actually drew a diagram with computations of Naho’s fall and gave it to me before she abruptly got up and go. God, I’ve never felt so stupid and insulted both at the same time.”

             “And,” Jimin adds, “last December, I shared a meme on Facebook about turning on your brain instead of your heart this coming 2017 and guess what she did? She commented below “guess, you’ll just die of heart failure before 2017 even comes.” Jimin rolls his eyes, “She made me feel dumb as if I don’t know how heart failure works. So us judging her back is just fair and square.”

             “But you don’t actually know how heart failure works,” Hoseok retorts. He glares at Taehyung, “And dude, to be honest, Orange is overrated and Naho really flies whenever she trips, or gets tripped, on the stairs.” Hoseok throws up his hands in annoyance. “Seriously, are you two judging her for just…I don’t know, being smart?!”

             Taehyung sighs. “Okay, that’s a bit true, but the thing is, Hobi, our IQ levels are already a bit higher than yours—”

             “What’s that got to do with this?!”

             “—And if Y/N’s already treating us like the biggest idiots of the world,” Jimin continues Taehyung’s words, “then what chance do you have in having a decent conversation with her? Much less a more fruitful one that could end up in a romantic relationship? There’s like a 99.9 percent sure-ness she will make you more of an idiot than us!”

             “Yeah,” Taehyung nods. “Her thoughts are composed of quadratic formulas and science shit like ‘the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.’ While I’m not even sure you know what DNA stands for.”

             Hoseok gawks, “Of course I know what DNA stands for!”

             “Then say it,” Jimin cocks a brow.

             “Dual Nucleus Association—fuck, why am I even doing this—” Hoseok glares at his friends, “What do you take me for? An imbecile?”

             “Well, yeah,” Taehyung says honestly.

             “That’s why right now, we’re telling you to drop anything you’re feeling in that,” Jimin points to Hoseok’s chest, “for Y/N. Hell, how will you even click together? Y/N’s allergic to nonsense and emojis and your daily vocabulary is entirely nonsense and eggplant emojis.”

             Hoseok opens his mouth to argue he also knows about the clown emoji but before he can utter a word, Taehyung beats him to it.

             “Dude, we’re not telling you this to insult you.” Jimin snorts and Taehyung closes his eyes before he looks again at Hoseok’s eyes, “Okay, maybe we’re enjoying teasing you a little too much. But we can say this is just payback for you not letting us go home earlier yesterday because you said we ‘need improvement’ which I damn well think not, bitch.” Hoseok squirms and Taehyung claps his shoulder hard, making him wince. “Anyway, what we’re trying to say, Hoseok, is we just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

             “How will I get hurt?! Nothing’s happened yet. I’m just saying I like Y/N—”

             “That’s what we’re worried about, Hoseok,” Jimin cuts him. “Nothing’s happened yet but we know something already did.”

            “Like what?”

            “You like Y/N. That’s the problem,” Jimin deadpans. “Hoseok we know you like to take relationships seriously. We even know that when you set your heart on a girl, your imagination is already two steps ahead, playing your wedding in your head.”

            Hoseok gulps, a guilty sweat forming on his temple.

            “But you see, Y/N belongs to that type of people who have their what-will-you-be-in-10-years solidly planted in their heads. And it’s highly probable a relationship, much less a wedding, is written in those 10-year plans. Much more, art majors like us are stigmatized to bound for failure because society is still close-minded and deems art won’t feed us. And by the meaning of society, it’s the ‘almighty and noble’ science folks Y/N belongs to. For God’s sake, there’s a lot of movies that have already forecasted science and art don’t mix!” 

            “Well, I don’t remember any movies—”

            Taehyung looks at Hoseok, incredulous. “Dude, there’s like The Theory of Everything—”

             “That’s science and faith!”

            “Stephen Hawking’s ex-wife sang in a choir. And she also started writing after their divorce! So that’s still art!”

            Hoseok was about to retaliate when he feels Jimin clasp a firm hand on his shoulder. He looks at him. Jimin sighs, “Hoseok, we just want you to not regret your decisions in the end. Y/N belongs to those snobbish high-hat people who treat everyone below them like dirt. There’s plenty of other girls out there who are much nicer than Y/N. Nice just like you. For one, why don’t you try giving a chance to the girls who’ve been crushing on you since freshman year? I know a few and they’re actually sweet. Just anyone who’s not Y/N. Seriously, just trust us on this, Hobi.”

             Except Hoseok does not. If there is one characteristic to describe Hoseok other than nice and talented, that would be his hard-headedness. He didn’t listen to his parents when they tried to discourage him from taking dance as his major. Hoseok disregarded numerous peers’ suggestions to join a frat so he can “shine more.” He even disregarded the toxic masculinity fraternities promoted by rocking pink overalls with his sparkly ugly sneakers and multicolored acorn pouch (which Jimin told him was the bane of the entire fashion industry) at least once a week. He even changes it up with other colorful ensembles the fashion students make. Hoseok did not even listen to Taehyung when the former told him not to drink before taking their finals in World History because, "no Hoseok, the alcohol does NOT bring back memories.”

             And look where his stubbornness got him. Hoseok became one of the greatest dancers his university has ever handled. His sole talent is enough for him to get invited to teach classes in several prestigious art colleges in the country. Hoseok gained more fulfilling and growth-inspiring friendships than surface-level ones offered by frats. He enjoyed more substantial conversations than booze temptation and toxic, trivial fights over games and girls. Hoseok even accidentally created a modeling career with local brands after his viral modeling of a peach acorn-inspired outfit for the project of his fashion major friends. Although him disregarding Taehyung’s reminders was a big mistake as he totally flunked World History, that night actually made Hoseok learn his lesson not to drink before the finals (and also because he learned the alcohol does not bring back memories he actually needed for the exam. But memories of his most embarrassing moments — like the one where he ended up performing in a children’s party as a fairy godmother—complete with the rainbow gown, fairy wings, plastic crown, and wand—because he mixed up the location of the college’s Halloween party with his friend’s family get-together).

             So, why would Hoseok listen to Jimin and Taehyung when setting his eyes and heart for Y/N feels like the most right decision he has ever made in his life? Especially when Y/N’s nowhere the high-hat snobbiety concept Jimin put her in. Hoseok is sure about this because he started to see and know her more than anyone else could after the fateful night of the Science Majors’ last year’s Christmas party.

             “Is that Y/N?” Hoseok squints his eyes. The person walking towards him is clad in a black coat and indigo satin slip-dress that falls short on her mid-thigh. Her hair is a mess and her small glittery satchel is slipping off her shoulders even if she adjusted it again and again. Not to say she’s also limping on her two-inch silver heels. When the girl raises her head and sees him, her face falls into an annoyed scowl. Hoseok right then confirms it is aberrantly, and shockingly, Y/N. At the sight of recognition in his face, Y/N immediately runs away in the opposite direction. Hoseok finds himself already chasing after her before his mind could acknowledge that he is actually running after the campus’ excruciating goody-two-shoes in the ass'o clock of the night.

             Hoseok easily catches up to Y/N. He blocks her way, causing her to halt. Hoseok hunches as he breathlessly puffs, “Hey Y/N, why you so fast?”

             “No-none of your business Jung Hoseok,” Y/N turns away from him and crosses her arms. Hoseok almost smiles. It is amusing how she effortlessly pulls her usual “intimidator stance” even in such a weird scenario.

             “Well, it is my business if you’re wandering on campus grounds in the night and obviously not sober.”

             Y/N whips her head towards him, “I am sober. What are you even here for?”

             “According to my eyes, you’re clearly drunk. Look,” Hoseok points to her face, “you look red all over and you can’t even look at me straight.” 

            Y/N slaps his hand away. 

            Hoseok puts his hands back in his pockets, “You’re clearly doing some beautiful eyes challenge right now.” 

            Y/N cringes at him but Hoseok continues, “And for your second question, I’m patrolling for the Campus Drunk Patrol.” He smiles and points to the logo on his jacket.

             Y/N leans forward and squints at the logo. Seeing her raised brow, Hoseok explains, “We aim to help drunk students sober up before commuting home. We can also escort them to their dorm facades and notify their RAs to come and get them.”

             Y/N still has her brow raised, skeptical. Hoseok sighs, “Well, it’s a dead org so I understand why you don’t believe me. If I also learn some org that’s been inactive for five years has suddenly gone active, I will be skeptical, too. But trust me on this, okay? I’ll just walk you around until you’re sober enough to know how to go home. I heard you’re dorming here. I can help you get to your dorm if you want.”

             Y/N still looks unconvinced and Hoseok releases a sigh again. He juts his thumb and points to his back, “We have our Patrol Marshal stationed there by the campus gates. He can totes see us here and tell you’re one of the stubborn drunk students who refuse to cooperate with our protocol.” 

            Hoseok smugly puts his weight on his left foot.“You can refuse and go ahead. But because the marshal doesn’t let drunk people he already caught go home, he will notify the head RA and trust me when I tell you I’ve seen a lot of students end up in bigger trouble for not complying with our joint protocol with the RA Council. Or,” Hoseok smiles, “you could just make our lives easier by letting me help you sober up.”

             Y/N looks away, gnawing on her lip. When Hoseok hears a faint “fine” come from her, he has to keep his jaw from hanging open.

             Because, why wouldn’t he be flabbergasted?

             Y/N L/N, the fearsome Analytical Physics major, is not the sweetest star out there. With a resting bitch face, innateness to give cold replies, gift of the perpetual judging stare, and insensitivity to joke cues, Y/N is one of the hardest people to cooperate with. It is not entirely because she does not put in any effort. No one just found it easy, or tolerable even, to interact with her. Sure, Y/N’s smart, a genius in Hoseok’s eyes. However, what stuck to everyone’s memory is how she unconsciously belittles everyone around her. Y/N gives out unnecessary run-throughs of chemistry concepts about any movie or animation brought up in a conversation. She instantly goes grammar-nazzi on anyone who slips on the rules of English grammar, especially when people make errors concerning the Oxford comma in their papers. She even goes out of her way to explain to her fellow students the physics of how and why they drove or parked badly with their bike or scooter.

             But the pinnacle of Y/N’s negative reputation has to be her merciless removal of her senior’s name, Oh Sehun, from the case study required in Communication Media Theories. In her very first year in university, at that. Although her action is justified as Sehun did not contribute anything at all in the group project, this name removal caused outrage among every college student. Sehun, who is actually the college’s renowned quarterback, graduated late and was now behind of his original team who already got into the professionals. All because of Y/N. Hence, the people in the university have started to associate her name with the title “stuck-up-iest bitch to ever walk on Earth.” Some don’t even seem to remember her name. All everyone knew is that Y/N’s one hell of a condescending bitch.

             So having Y/N walk silently by his side, cooperating for the first time without reciting her rights based on the constitution with such accuracy in verbatim while passively and implicitly insulting him, Hoseok cannot help to be so shocked.

             Noticing the complete silence that has surrounded them two, Hoseok breaks from his trance and leads Y/N to the college’s cafe. It’s already closed, given the lateness of the night, but it has their outdoor metal chairs set-up outside. He lets Y/N plop down on one of the metal seats as he produces a coffee-in-can for her.

             “Do you just casually carry around canned coffees with you?”

             “No, just when I am on duty for the patrols. Caffeine is the best way to help people sober up fast.” Hoseok inserts an edible straw for her and she grabs the drink.

             “I don’t think so,” Y/N mutters, “Human body processes consumed alcohol on its own, thus, it’s processing speed is neither affected nor aided by any exterior substances. With this, there’s no such actual thing as 'sobering up fast.’ It just feels like that because caffeine is a stimulant and hence, counters the sedative effect of alcohol, making you feel alert and appear to be sober.” Y/N takes another sip, “Nevertheless, thanks for the free coffee.”

              Hoseok almost gapes. The people were not kidding about how Y/N casually spouts science shit wherever she goes. Although he’s supposed to get tipped off, Hoseok just finds this set-up oddly amusing. He leans forward in his seat and props up his arm on the table to cup his face. “Anyway, why are you out in the late of the night?”

                 Y/N gives him an unamused look, “Because I was obviously partying. Is there any other party in the campus right now than the Science Majors’ Christmas party?”

              “You’re right,” Hoseok chuckles, “but what I mean is, why are you already outside? The party doesn’t end 'til 2 A.M.”

              “I just decided I want to go home.”

              “Why?”

              Y/N drops her drink on the table, “Are you just gonna ask me 'why’ everytime?!”

              Hoseok tilts his head and smiles, “Talking with drunk people is part of our protocol in sobering up. So, yeah, I’m gonna ask why every time until the redness on your nose and cheeks subsides a little.”

              “Fine,” Y/N hisses. She gives Hoseok a steely glare, “This night is the first time I’ve done something so stupid such as going to a party in an attempt to expand my connections. It turns out everyone still irrationally hates me about Oh Sehun’s name removal and they refused to interact with me. They kept sending me glares  while I just pathetically stood in the corner of the room for the duration of the party, dumbly holding a cup of some alcoholic drink I just realized 30 minutes ago was what you call ‘spiked.’ These pretty heels I wore hurt my ankles and toes all for nothing.” Y/N covers her face with her palms, “God, I don’t even know why I’m opening up about these things with you when it’s just the first time I talked with you. Maybe it’s just because I’m just drunk, god, it’s so stupid–”

              “It’s not stupid,” Hoseok interjects and Y/N raises her head from her hands. Hoseok smiles, “When there’s too much alcohol in our system, we get to do stuff we never knew we can. And sometimes, they are things we really desire to do but dare not let out in the open, afraid of what others may think. And it may come off as stupid as you’re letting your heart do the talking instead of your brain. But you know what? You have to be stupid sometimes to acknowledge what your brain may be missing out on. Plus,” Hoseok stretches open his arms wide, “there’s just the two of us here so no one can really judge you because hey, I’m just all ears here. After all, I’m just an officer of the Campus Drunk Patrol helping you sober up.” At the sight of Y/N’s pursed lips and eyes set on the coffee beside her, looking as if she’s convinced (and it looks like it’s not like her to admit it), Hoseok smiles wider and leans forward. “Now, back to your story. Why did you decide to go to a party?”

              “Because,” Y/N sighs, “I don’t know, @keanu_reeves_is_the_real_daddy from Hoboken said in Reddit that going to parties is a great opportunity to make friends.” Y/N looks down at her hands and interlocks them, “I’m just–I’m just desperate to get some friends. I’m already in second year, and still, no one wants to be with me. I often talk about how I don’t care whether people like me or not. Most of the time, I really do not care at all. But sometimes...it also gets lonely when you feel everyone seems to hate you.”

              “Well, I’m not everyone.”

              Y/N looks up at him, frowning, “That’s a great joke, Hoseok. I saw you hanging with Jimin just yesterday and I heard my name as the subject and "stick-in-the-ass bitch” as the predicate in a couple of sentences.“

              "Hate to break it to you, sweetie, but it was just Jimin who talked bad about you. Did you hear me say your name and 'stick-in-the-ass’ in one sentence?”

              Y/N glares at him. She then rips her gaze away from him to set them back on her interlocked fingers. “What are you trying to imply, Hoseok?”

               "I’m trying to imply, if you want to have a friend, I’m willing to be one.”

               "But you already got lots of friends.”

               Hoseok smiles, “That doesn’t mean I have no room left for one more.”

              Y/N gives him that skeptic look again and Hoseok snorts. “Hey, I’m being serious here. I really want to be your friend if you’d like. And no, it’s not because I pity you.” 

              Y/N raises a brow at him in disbelief and Hoseok purses his lips. He raises his hands in surrender, “Ooohkay, maybe like 0.001 percent I do, but 99.999 percent I just don’t like how everyone hates you for something that is not actually your fault. I really want to get to know you if you’d let me.”

                 Y/N just stares at him and Hoseok, for the first time in his life save for the days he’s answering written exams, has literally no idea what to do. Is Y/N angry at him for blurting out those things? Or is she aggravated he seemed plastic? But Hoseok knows he meant every single thing he said because first and foremost, he cannot lie even if he wanted to. He’s a goddamn horrible liar that anyone will know he’s lying before he can even start to lie. Second, he always says the first thing that comes to his mind because, in the majority of his life, he is incapable of thinking first before doing something. And third, Hoseok really meant what he said. He’s always been curious about Y/N. Jimin and Taehyung always talk ill about her and from the numerous negative shits he hears from them, he can’t help but think that maybe, her reputation is just one big hell of a rumor. It’s just impossible that so many rumors and negative comments about someone who he rarely sees outside the university, to be true. 

              Hoseok knows because he also has his fair share of rumors he has struggled to disprove. Like how he “cheated” in dance contests because no one can’t believe someone is just so exceptionally talented that they can win every single competition they join. Or how he “slept around” with almost half of the female population in the university just because he has lots of female friends and he loves to joke around with eggplant and saliva emojis in his texts. It’s hard to be contained in such one definitive title, much more a heavily negative one. Hoseok knew what it felt and it feels it’s just wrong to stay as a standbyer while the entire university jeers on Y/N for such a trivial reason.

              “Do-do you really mean that?”

              Hoseok looks at Y/N and nods. “Yes, I do.”

              Something wet drops on his jacket and Hoseok looks up at the sky. The sky is pitch black, save for the white inklets dotting the atmosphere, lightening up the dark horizon along with the glow of sparkling snowflakes. He turns to Y/N and smiles, “Oh look, it’s the first snow.”

              Y/N returns his smile this time. She tells him she wants to stay for ten more minutes to appreciate the snow before going home. Hoseok grins at her and says he’s got enough time to spare before his duty ends.

              The next day, Y/N’s frowning at Hoseok as the latter awkwardly holds his lunch tray next to her table.

              “Uhhh, aren’t you standing by the wrong table? Your friends sit over there.”

              “No,” Hoseok quips. “Jimin and Taehyung are not seated anywhere here because their lunches are scheduled way later today. And, this, in my opinion,” Hoseok scoots to Y/N’s side and sits down beside her, “is the perfect table.” Hoseok digs in his lunch and grins at her, “You should probably start eating now, too, y'know? Your food’s gonna get cold.”

              “I–” Y/N bites her lip and look away before she refocuses a glare at his face, “Are you really taking seriously your joke last night?”

              “It’s not a joke,” Hoseok retorts, dropping his utensils. “I’m serious about everything I said." 

              "But I didn’t mean mine. I’m drunk, remember?”

              “If you really didn’t mean them,” Hoseok looks at her, “then you can just tell me to leave. I’ll do whatever you say.”

              Y/N stares at him, brows scrunched together as if conflicted. She looks down on her hands on her lap and sighs, “I…don’t really want you to…leave. I’m sorry, I just…thought you’re just playing with me. You know all of this is still new to me. I’m sorry.”

              “Hey, it’s fine,” Hoseok chuckles, “no need to be so serious. We can take things slowly as long as you’d like.” Y/N pulls up a small smile and Hoseok grins. “Let’s finish our lunches and then we can look at memes. Memes are essential building blocks in friendships.”

              “Really?”

              “Yeah. Taehyung and I became friends after we accidentally sent each other hilarious anti-government blinking man memes.”

              It is needless to say the entire university goes berserk later when they find Y/N, the campus bitch, and Hoseok, the university’s sunshine boy, guffawing over chemistry memes during lunch. Hoseok does not understand a thing, but he enjoys laughing with Y/N as she passionately explains to him each concept and why they are funny.

              It is true that Y/N wasn’t the dearest person in the world. Hoseok learned this after weeks of dealing with her unintentional snarkiness and unnecessary science lessons that may seem insulting and offensive to others. But through the time he got to befriend her, Hoseok learns Y/N is just too smart for her own good. Y/N always goes around like an encyclopedia because she doesn’t know what else to say when she wants to find common grounds with other people. It is just unfortunate that Y/N cannot speak of anything that does not involve quantum mechanics and chemical structures.  Meanwhile, her unintended snarkiness is always directed to people’s redundancy and anomalies in their speech. Hoseok found out about this as soon as February rolled in, that it has to do with the restrictive childhood Y/N had. This, he discovered when Professor Minyoung Park called for him after his Science 11 GE class.

              “Hoseok, I see you getting close with Y/N, these days.”

              “Yes ma'am,” Hoseok replies. He sits on the chair in front of her desk.

              “Oh, then you must have been familiar with how she can get,” Ms. Park leans forward, “not so…friendly around people. I know she and her mind of hers can be a little too much for others.”

              Hoseok’s forehead furrows. How did Professor Park know? Although Y/N’s bad reputation has easily spread like wildfire among college students, not many professors or any of the university staff have shown any interest in her life other than her impressive academic standing. Hoseok asks, “How did you know, Ms. Park?”

              The 40-year old professor leans back and smiles. “Would you believe I used to tutor Y/N L/N back in middle school?”

              “No way,” Hoseok’s jaw drops open.

              Ms. Park chuckles, “Yes, it’s true. I know, what a coincidence right?  I remember how that pretty girl used to be so insecure about her braces.”

              “Yeah, she must be so…adorable back then,” Hoseok looks away bashful. He’s not used associating Y/N with such adjectives. Saying them aloud feels too weird on his tongue.

              Ms. Park’s voice makes him turn back to her. “Until now she is. It’s just a shame how she did not outgrow her…usual speech style. But in her defense, it’s not entirely her fault.”

              Hoseok’s eyes widen. His curiosity is instantly piqued. “What do you mean, Ms. Park?”

              “Well, Y/N L/N is brought up in a home…quite not friendly for children growing up. The L/Ns is a prestigious family. Not for their wealth, but for their remarkable lineage of geniuses. Y/N’s great grandparents are renowned mathematician whizzes. Her grandparents own Fields medals for their remarkable contributions in mathematics. Moreover, Y/N’s parents are well-respected chemists in almost every pharmaceutical congregation. Even their relatives are families of renowned doctors and engineers. From over ten years of tutoring her, I noticed how expectations pile up upon the short shoulders of young Y/N. Every single school day, Y/N has to attend cram schools and private tutoring after her classes to ensure she stays on top of the overall batch standing. She also has to be exposed to upper-class parties at such a young age which I think does not help anyone at all. Especially a child. All the people ever do there is brag about their achievements, scour for new families to ally with or manipulate, and eye each other’s mistakes so they can prove publicly how better they are than everyone else.” Ms. Park looks at Hoseok in the eyes, “Believe me, I used to dream about attending such parties until I finally learned how they go when I’ve been invited by the L/Ns. And with Y/N being a single child, all eyes were on her. So any room for mistakes is non-existent. Her parents assured her to grow like the perfect daughter they wanted her to be by making sure her movements are always constantly monitored and kept in check. You think Y/N studied here because this is just a prestigious school? No. The L/Ns wanted to send her abroad. To Harvard. Y/N refused and convinced them instead she’ll study here because I work here. And her parents trust me that I can be their eyes to see Y/N’s progress.”

              Hoseok nods but he cannot help but let his mouth hang open at everything he’s discovering right now. No one really knew anything about Y/N. And suddenly out of nowhere, on some random Thursday afternoon, he is introduced into a pandora box of history where everything about her suddenly seems to make sense.

              Ms. Park must have noticed his troubled face so she reaches out and holds Hoseok’s hand. “Hoseok, I’m not telling you these to pressure you. In fact, I am happy Y/N finally found someone who can listen to her and understand her, instead of watching her like a glass-cased perfect doll. I’m just telling you all these not to excuse the mistakes she has done but for you to understand where she’s coming from, especially when interacting with her can be difficult sometimes. So I hope you won’t give up on her, Hoseok. I know you’re a good kid. I just want Y/N to finally enjoy herself like every other college student out there.”

              And Hoseok, with his ever characteristic stubbornness did not give up on you.

“What do you mean I cannot state the faulty quantum mechanics in Antman to Taehyung?!” Y/N scowls at Hoseok, fingers frozen on the book she has mid-taken away from the shelf.

“Because you will break Taehyung’s heart,” Hoseok purses his lips and steps nearer to her, almost cornering her to the back of the bookshelf. “And can you lower your voice? We’re in a library.”

“For the same reason you should also back up a bit as I do not fancy you borderline sexually harrassing me.”

“Sexual harassment?!” Hoseok whisper-yells, “I’m stepping closer to you because I feel the need to whisper louder for you to get my point that you should not explain whatever Antman’s faulty quantum shit to Taehyung because that will make him angry. And sad!”

“Why will he be angry?” Y/N sticks her nose up and crosses her arms. “Shouldn’t he feel grateful I am adding heuristic value to his existing knowledge?”

Hoseok drags a hand down his face, “Well, I didn’t say you cannot explain some facts to Taehyung. I’m just saying you don’t tell him those things in a matter-of-factly way you always do because he’ll think you’re insulting him for watching such movies.”

“How should I say them then?” Y/N quips back.

Y/N learns the answer to her question before she knew she already did it. She realizes it when she gets out of her film class and Hoseok, who has been waiting for her last period to finish, asks her how did it go.

“Well, I told him 'The film Antman is quite weird.’”

“And what did he say?”

“Taehyung grinned at me and high-fived me.”

“Well then, it was successful. Much better than how you initially decided to do it,” Hoseok grins.

“But still…I called Ant Man weird, I’m still perplexed why Taehyung is pleased.”

“Calling something weird is a common expression to us,” Hoseok starts and Y/N tilts her head. Hoseok explains further, “’Weird’ can mean as a good endearing weird or an insulting ‘weird.’ If you added statistics of probability and some laws with calling something ‘weird,’ it will sound like 'Hypothesis one is proven: the movie is confirmed to be bullshit because of unquestionable proof.’ And that will appear insulting because you are not giving room for others’ opinions to be valid. It will make you look you’re belittling them if you said it that way. But today, you did not. See?” Hoseok smiles, “you do not have to state 100 percent what you really meant. Just a bit of truth you find essential for others to know is already enough for a small talk.”

Y/N nods, her lips morphed into an amused “oh.”

Hoseok grins as he puts his hands on his waist, “Trust me on this. I became Mr. Congeniality last year for a reason.”

“What does it have to do with making small talk?”

“It means, I am the expert in making small talk.”

***

“C'mon, Y/N, let’s go to the spring festival. Please, please, please, pleaseeee.”

“No, Hoseok,” Y/N pulls her hand from his grip, “I have to study for our finals.”

“But, Y/N, it’s too early for that. The finals is yet to come 'til next month! Look at me, I do not feel any pressure to study yet.”

“But that’s because you do not have any academic standing to maintain.”

Hoseok’s face falls and Y/N immediately rectifies her mistake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, Hoseok. Of course, I know you also value your class standing, given your program and all. I’m sorry I’m being insensitive again.”

Hoseok breaks into a laugh. “Oh my god, I’m just fucking around with you! You’re partially right though, I don’t have an academic standing to maintain but a performative one. Although I still have to keep my grades up so I can continue studying here. Anyway,” Hoseok grins at Y/N, offering his hand out, “I only accept apologies in the form of accompanying me to the spring festival.”

“Fine, Hoseok,” Y/N  begrudgingly accepts his hand. But Hoseok cannot miss the small smile forming on her lips.

“Don’t fret tho,” He boops her nose and she cringes at him, “we can  insert some Q&A sessions later so you can do a bit of studying if you’d still like.”

“How will we do that?”

Y/N learns the answer to that when she finds themselves screaming from the opposite ends of the giant boat ride.

“HOSEOK, DAMN YOU!”

The boat tips and her stomach drops but all she can hear is Hoseok screaming.

“WRONG, Y/N. The answer to the drilling ship which can dig 'til the mantle of the earth IS CHIKYU! NOW, off to the next question. What are CYANOBACTERIA?!!!”

              But Hoseok does more than just sticking by Y/N’s side and not giving up on her. He falls in love with her.

              Through the months he has become Y/N’s friend, Hoseok cannot help but be endeared by her. The things about her he never thought will come as close to what he calls cute suddenly grows on him. It grows too much that he lives off every single one of them. Even if it usually ends with him getting roasted. He used to get frustrated by Y/N’s never-ending witty comebacks. Now, his heart started singing during their bicker-banters that Hoseok even started to look forward to their bickering. Y/N’s smile that Hoseok used to think was a standard horror level of creepy is now all he could dream about when he’s asleep, and even when he’s awake. The way Y/N laughs at him, or smiles when she sees him were heart-warming. Until they upped 100 million levels and now they have become cataclysmic for his heart. The way Y/N patiently teaches him his lessons, or how her science-y jokes and memes become funny was something Hoseok used to overlook as trivial. Now, he couldn’t wait for the days he’ll bring his notebooks to the library and stare at Y/N’s face while she teaches him quantum mechanics and chemical structures. 

              Y/N’s small “tokens of appreciation,” as what she called it, like her handmade ‘thank you’ cards she gives Hoseok every month, or her invitations for Hoseok to accompany her to some street event or nearby dance event, or as uneventful as a new food stall that has opened in the university were something Hoseok never put much thought on. Now, they’re Hoseok’s source of both happiness and headaches as they make his heart fly and his brain ache for thinking too much into her actions. The way Y/N looks at him like never someone else has before—so attentive and focused in everything he says as if everything that comes from his mouth has so much worth listening to. Even if it’s a disgusting tale of how he almost shitted his pants before their science exam because he didn’t listen to Jimin when he told him to stop binge-eating spicy wings as a coping mechanism to stress, Y/N listens. This used to be something Hoseok treats as his special privilege as her friend. But now, it has become a national treasure he does not want to share with others. Especially with Namjoon, his roommate, whom Y/N managed to befriend because the former is a Biology major who’s on the same level as Y/N’s intellectual prowess. God, Hoseok cannot even count on his hands the number of times he’s been conflicted if it was jealousy on Namjoon’s effortless way to make Y/N laugh, or petty anger because he cannot even understand their jokes. 

              Hoseok doesn’t know how or why he suddenly felt all of these things for Y/N. It just happened. And so is how he accidentally blurted it out to her during one of their conversations, despite Jimin and Taehyung’s adamant warnings not to ask her out.

              "And whenever I use the microscope in my room, I’m always scared turning the coarse knob so much. It will be horrifying to see the objective lens break the slide and the coverslip.”

              “Y/N, I like you.”

              YN’s jaw goes slack and she stares at him, eyes wide. Hoseok almost feels perspiration dot his entire hairline for what feels like ten whole minutes in purgatory. Will Y/N leave? Will she scream at him, laugh at him even for his audacity? Will she reject him? Of course she will, what is he thinking? Taehyung and Jimin are right. Y/N is smart and he is too dumb for her to even fulfill at least an ounce of her standards. Y/N is respectable and he is a shameless clown–

              “I…am allowing you to be sexually attracted to me, Hoseok.”

              “W-what?”

              “I said,” Y/N looks straight into his eyes, “I am giving you permission to like me, Hoseok.”

              Hoseok balks. “P-permission? W-why do I need permission?”

              “Because, if you’re going to like me, I need you to know I am acknowledging your sexual attraction to me seriously,” Y/N stands up, putting her hands in the pockets of your coat. “It will be a waste if you do not want a long-term commitment. I do not have time to dwell on anything less than that.”

              Lucky for Y/N, so does Hoseok and he wastes no time proving it to her. For the course of six months, Hoseok courts her in the most possible best Hoseok-way. Y/N lived the majority of her life within suffocating walls surrounded by academics, titles, honors, and people waiting for her to fall. Hoseok wanted to take her with him on a break (and a possible future lifestyle) away from them all. So he takes Y/N to carnivals, dance events, and festivals–ranging from streets decorated in cheap glowing lanterns to grander events that have remarkable fireworks displays.

              Hoseok shows Y/N himself at his most vulnerable and strongest. He lets her watch him perform alone in practice rooms as he expresses the things muddled in his head, things he never dares to say to anyone else. Y/N’s been with him when he broke down due to his anxiety concerning his not-so-impressive acads. She was also with him in his embarrassing drunk adventures. Hell, Y/N even participated in his crew’s weird end-of-the-sem party. She let Hoseok dress them two like the two robbers from Home Alone–complete with the rageddy cut gloves and dirty face makeup. But, Y/N has also seen Hoseok’s crew’s successful university tours, the exclusive events he got invited to, and his dance recitals that got many theater and entertainment scouts crowding the room he’s dancing in.

              Hoseok shows all of himself to Y/N. Willingly and so transparently, that in turn, she started to show him her self, too. Y/N let him see her in her utter glory. She let him see her receiving awards from various electronics competitions and exhibitions, her creating the first demo of her portable printer and scanner machine that earned many positive reviews from numerous investors, and her getting featured in not just the university’s newspaper or any other school’s newspapers, but the city’s news for a composting machine she invented. And, Y/N also let Hoseok see her at her worst. She let him see her get told off by one of the people she had unconsciously insulted in the hallways, her failing her Communication GE classes, and her having a panic attack when her parents announced yet again another party of scholars who wish to see what she’s been up to lately.

              These things made Y/N realize Hoseok was serious about her and she, in return, has started to cherish the golden boy who would never leave her alone for the day until she’s crying from sheer laughter and happiness.

              However, it is the small things Hoseok does that really really gets to her.

              Hoseok remembers the small details Y/N slips in during their conversations.

“Hey, you are not supposed to eat that,” a fork clashes with Y/N’s own, preventing her from reaching the delectable dish.

“This pasta?” Y/N looks up at Hoseok.

“It has chopped shrimps. I asked Seokjin about it and he said it has prawns.” Hoseok grabs Y/N’s hand and leads her to the other side of the buffet. There, he gets her pasta with white sauce, this time, garnished in bacon. “Here, eat this, instead. It may not taste like the one with the shrimp but at least you won’t get allergies and you can enjoy the rest of the night instead of chilling out at the hospital watching sad re-runs of The Big Bang Theory.”

***

“Hoseok, you won’t believe how fascinating my yield turned out to be, like–Hoseok, what are you doing?

Hoseok pauses in his fumbling and blinks at Y/N. He looks down back at his bag and sighs. “I was hoping to keep this a surprise but oh well.”

He pulls up something from his bag and Y/N’s left gaping when he hands her a box of baked cookies. He rubs his neck, the tip of his ears reddening under her  gaze. “I remember you telling me it’s been a while since you ate cookies. My mom baked a lot for us so here, have some. I know you’re on some ridiculous diet your parents told you to take. But I hope you could give yourself a cheat day and just eat and enjoy the day. Your parents aren’t here.”

              Hoseok never fails to check up on her.

“Hey, how long have you been hunched over your desk now?” Hoseok’s voice blares from Y/N’s phone’s speakers and she sighs.

“About five hours now, I think?”

“Okay. Why don’t you take a break for ten minutes before going back to the grind? You told me your back is being an ass to you for two weeks now. Give it some rest. Also, drink some water.”

“Okay mom, will do,” Y/N chuckles over the line.

“Okay my daughter,” Hoseok sing-songs and she snorts. “I’ll call later and check up on you. Don’t dare to not take a break. I know where your dorm is and I’ll break into your window if I have to.”

“Okay, okay, will do, my personal health support system.”

“Glad to be of your service, ma'am.”

***

Y/N sighs as she throws her bag onto her bed. Today is a beat day. Mr. David was sour and he poured all his frustration on their class by giving out unnecessary lectures instead of teaching the new lesson. Y/N guesses she’ll have to self-study again for a quiz the prof has irrationally scheduled for tomorrow. And oh, Ms. Peterson also gave out a heavy paper late. It will force Y/N to cram for it in two days as submission date is just the day after tomorrow. Why is every deadline piling up today? It’s not yet even finals week yet!

Y/N plops onto her desk with a heavy sigh. She’ll end up having to do an all-nighter again — wait, what’s that doing there? There’s a pack of sandwiches in a clear food container sitting on top of her desk, beside her notebooks. Y/N doesn’t remember buying one or requesting her rommate, Jae In, to buy her one. Curious, she picked it up and turned it around. That’s when Y/N sees a yellow post-it attached on the plastic container.

“Hey Y/N. I thought of you today and decided to make you a sandwich. This is edible, I assure you. I asked my cooking mama friend Seokjin to come over and help me. Eat this snack before you do your work. I know you always start work right after coming home from your classes. I hope you eat on time and not skip on meals.

With super duper mega love,

Hoseok 😘”

              And Hoseok helps Y/N to the best he can, whenever he can, especially about things she’s passionate about but no one takes time to really understand.

"Hey Y/N,” Hoseok greets as he plops down next to her seat in the library.

“Hoseok?” Y/N glances up at him, eyes wide, “What are you doing here? You told me you have practice today.”

“Eh, the members cancelled on me today.  And also, I’ve missed you, so I figured why not visit you.” Hoseok grins at her and she momentarily forgets how to breathe. Y/N doesn’t know when Hoseok started to have that effect on her, it just happened. And although it is starting to be an inconvenience regarding how she becomes a nervous wreck under his gaze, she weirdly cannot find herself complaining against it. 

Hoseok leans forward, breaking her trance. “Now, what should we study today?”

“Uh-uhm, cellular mechanisms. I wanted to learn more about cancer cells.”

“Cellular mechanisms it is, then. Want me to help you make diagrams?”

Y/N nods and Hoseok grins, “I see the skills of artist Hoseok is not about to die anytime soon, eh?”

***

“How does that work, Y/N?”

“Well, it converts the mechanical energy from every step you take into electrical energy. It’s not yet finished so I’m still figuring out how many more parts I need for this to work. My previous demos have a lot of mistakes.” Right at the same time, a bolt pops off. Y/N runs a hand over her face, “And a lot of malfunctioning parts.”

Hoseok scratches his head. “I don’t know about any energy conversions but I know how to screw well?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“A-a statement. I can fix what we have for now while you revise your design. Whaddya think?”

“That sounds good.” Y/N turns around and heads for her blue prints. But before she can pick up her measuring materials, she turns back to Hoseok, meeting his gaze as he’s mid-picking up a screw driver.

“Thank you, Hoseok for assisting me on this. I know it’s just a personal project and I may be taking too much of your time when you should probably be resting at your dorm.”

“Pssh, you’re not taking too much of my time. I am enjoying my time with you. Also, it’s not just a personal project. It is a personal project so of course, it deserves to have gigantic importance to you. And it will turn out great because I know it will. Now go let’s get these revisions done so we can do another test run.”

              Hoseok has been a wonderful friend, an amazing supporter, and a sincere person who never feels ashamed of showing Y/N what he felt. That is all she needed for her not to doubt anymore and accept his confession.

              “Hey, Y/N,” Hoseok huffs, hands tucked deep in his red parka. “Why did you  tell me to meet up in the park? It’s cold out. Can’t it wait 'til tomorrow?”

              “No, it cannot,” Y/N faces the man, brows scrunched, her lips red from the number of times she has bitten it. “Hoseok, there’s something I need to tell you.”

              “W-what is it?”

              “I…am reciprocating yo-your profession of your sexual attraction to me.”

              “What?”

              “I said, I am reciprocating–” Y/N’ bites her lip and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she gives Hoseok the most focused stare she can ever give. “Hoseok, I am accepting your love confession. I like you, too.”

              Hoseok stares at Y/N, eyes wide, mouth agape. And for too long that Y/N thought the cold must have frozen him all over.

              “Hoseok, why are you staring like that? I am telling you, I like you too–hmppf!”

              Hoseok is kissing her, his lips pressed softly against hers in a gentle peck. Before Y/N could process things in her head about what to do when the boy she likes started kissing her, Hoseok is already coaxing her lips to dance with his. And before long, Y/N is returning him a kiss with the same ardor as his. It’s not like her to suddenly make out with someone so publicly. Hell, it’s not even like her to kiss someone with such passion that the warmth she feels on her chest comes close as to the heat of the sun. But as Y/N stays in Hoseok’s embrace in the middle of the frosted park which contrasts their warm chests, everything just feels so right.

              So right, as if fate just planned this very night for the two of them. Because, as their kiss comes into an end, Y/N and Hoseok both jolt at the drop of wetness that land on their heads. Y/N looks up and sees the familiar soft white snow falling from the dark night sky. The first snow. Right then deja vu sets in of how it was just one year ago she met this giggling boy in front of her at the very same time of the year.

              “I guess the universe wants us to be together, too.” Hoseok smiles.

              Y/N grins at him and sinks deeper into his embrace. “As preposterous that sounds given that the universe is, literally speaking, a no-higher living being, it is more preposterous that I am finding myself agreeing to and blushing because of this.”

              “I can’t understand what you said but I think it means you like it too so I’m deciding this is one of the best blush-worthy moments I ever had,” Hoseok kisses the top of Y/N’s head, “and whatever you say won’t stop me from taking back what I said.” Y/N nuzzles her nose against his chest, smiling at the way she cannot tell her heartbeat apart from his–the beats beneath their chests in sync despite the incongruity in her words.

***

              Loving Hoseok is easy. He is charming, generous, understanding, and everything Y/N ever wanted. Even more, nothing really changed from their friendship, just the addition of cheesy pick-up lines, sweet kisses here and there, hot make-out sessions which more often than not escalate into passionate (and very amazing) love-making. And Y/N loves her relationship with him as well for this. Because even if Hoseok succeeds in making her a soft mush for him, she cannot live her life without having him be the best-est friend she could ever have in her life.

              But from all the things Y/N loves about Hoseok, her most favorite has to be his utter transparency. What she sees in him, is what she gets. Hoseok is unabashed in proclaiming his feelings for her. He does not get embarrassed in showing Y/N his love for her. And, Hoseok does not keep secrets from her. He just willingly tells everything about him to her, no euphemisms, no lies. Y/N guesses this is probably the reason why their fights never last too long. Moreover, this quality of his makes up for Y/N’s inability to effectively express her thoughts and feelings. He taught Y/N pure utter honesty that so many people have stigmatized for naivety, but actually felt so amazing. He also taught Y/N to trust and let down her walls for people so they can be able to love her. Hoseok inspires and motivates Y/N to become a better version of herself, not only for the sake of others, but also for herself, and she cannot be grateful enough for that. 

              Titles didn’t matter with Hoseok, with Y/N, and their relationship. What only matters is their labels for each other–boyfriend and girlfriend, lovers loved and in love. Hoseok does not encrypt his messages in a way that would match Y/N’s mental capacity – He just talks with her like the way he is, nonsense and eggplant emojis and all. Hoseok does not burden Y/N with heavy, unreasonable expectations. He just loves her and lets her be whatever she wants. He just stays by Y/N’s side as she freely learns from and works on her mistakes like every flawed human being. With Hoseok, Y/N knew what she deserves and she started to live her life the way she has always dreamed of–so flawed but so perfectly Y/N L/N who is unafraid of what the future may bring to her.

              However, not everyone cannot fully comprehend Y/N’s relationship with Hoseok. Loving Hoseok may be easy but the environment surrounding their relationship is an entirely opposite scenario. For Hoseok’s and Y/N’s disregard of titles, does not guarantee everyone else around their relationship will do the same.

              Y/N’s relationship with Hoseok spread throughout the campus like a Jeffree Star fight-controversy with another YouTuber in 2x speed. The entire university has gone berserk yet again, unable to fathom how someone who shines so bright like Hoseok can be together with someone like Y/N who dims other’s lights. And for other people, they cannot understand how such a happy-go-lucky academically-challenged student like Hoseok can even amuse such no-shit, genius brain of Y/N.

              Almost everyone has something to say about their relationship. And, most often than not, they are negative. It didn’t help anything in their relationship as Y/N is already insecure as to why Hoseok even chose her when he can have any woman he wished. Y/N knows she’s difficult to be with. She struggles with expressing her feelings and thoughts. She even feels like she’s making things too hard for Hoseok. You see, Y/N’s a safe player. In whatever grounds she’s in — academics, social life, family ties — she  always plays safe. Y/N finds it hard to not be so, especially when all her life, she has been groomed to be a person well-liked by everybody else — a person safe from any negative impression that may tarnish her reputation. So, when things get a little bit too hard with Hoseok, Y/N finds herself automatically heading for the exit.

              Just like in one Wednesday night in August. Y/N had her fair share of fights with Hoseok. From the difficulties that tie with his popularity, her inability to show her feelings to him that sometimes makes him question her love, his procrastination and occasional lack of care for his academics, her nature to obsess over her studies that she tends to forget herself and everyone around her, to his numerous female friends who have the audacity to still flirt with him even if they all know he’s dating her — Y/N and Hoseok have fought about them all within their seven months of dating. And sure, they were already pretty bad fights given that they were immensely serious with Y/N and Hoseok ending up screaming at each other, giving each other cold shoulders, and ignoring each other for at most (usually) five days. But this Wednesday night was not like any of ther previous fights. Because this time, Y/N told Hoseok she wanted to break up with him.

              “Will you stop for a second, Y/N?!”

              Y/N swiftly turns around, tears brimming her swollen red eyes, “What do you want, Hoseok? I already said what I need to say. I am tired of constantly being the bad guy whenever we fight. I am tired of this, of you. I want to break up.”

              “No, you don’t mean that,” Hoseok almost cries. He looks equally devastated as her — swollen eyes, pale face, trembling fingers. “N-no, you don’t mean that,” he repeats, this time, his voice breaking.

              “Of course I mean them, Hoseok,” Y/N spits, “I never say things I do not mean. You know me.”

              “I know you,” Hoseok retorts, “that’s why I am telling you right now you don’t mean telling me you’re tired of our relationship, of me. That you want to b-break up. B-because you’re Y/N,” he breathes out. “You seem cold but you actually care. You do not speak your thoughts or feelings aloud but act on them. Okay, maybe you speak them out, but you say it in a way most people do not understand so that still does not count. But, Y/N,” Hoseok reaches for her hand before she can even think of shaking off his hold, “I know you love me. Deep inside the deepest of your hypothalamus, like you said, I believe you love me. Or else, you wouldn’t stay when I told you to watch me dance alone, frustrated with the world. You wouldn’t put in effort befriending Taehyung and Jimin despite knowing what they all said about you in the past. You wouldn’t have told me you wanted to come with me to my hometown and meet my family for my dad’s birthday. And,” Hoseok looks down at his feet, “you wouldn’t have stayed with me this long knowing how annoying I can be and what everyone else has to say about us. So please, Y/N. Just please…stay. Let’s talk it out together. Don’t just break up with me. Please don’t just l-leave me alone.”

              When Hoseok looks up at Y/N, it is with his brows scrunched together, eyes glazed over, and form almost kneeling in front of her. He holds her hands so tight, but yet so gentle, as if afraid if he clasped her fingers tighter, it will be too suffocating that she’ll slip away from him. He just looks at her and she cannot help but return his gaze. Y/N realizes right then, it may have been a bad decision to do so. For all she could see in his eyes is her reflection. Her and only her. It even seems as if he’s trying to keep the entirety of her as vivid as a memory can be. And maybe it’s because it’s the way he unabashedly tells her everything he loves about her. Or the way he remembers every single detail about her. Or how he knows her so well despite their relationship blooming at such a young age. But, they are all enough for Y/N to hold his hands tighter and let him engulf HER in his arms.

              “H-Hobi–”

              “S-see? You even still call me like that,” Hoseok mutters above her head and Y/N bites her lip as she clutches onto his jacket tighter.

              “Hobi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean them. I’m not tired of you. I’m not tired of u-us. I do not want to break up with you. Not at all. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Y/N lets out a sob and Hoseok hugs her tighter, running a hand over her hair, knowing it calms her down. “It’s just that everything’s been too much lately. The-the way your friends–”

              “What did they do?” Hoseok’s voice deepens close into a low growl. Y/N gulps. “Please tell me, Y/N,” Hoseok says softly as he cups her face in his warm hands. Y/N bites her lip and looks away. She does not want to be that type of girlfriend who instigates a fight between their significant other and their friends. She does not want Hoseok to have a bad blood with people he cares about. But then, Y/N remembers their fight two months ago. That night when she confronted Hoseok about the consecutive late nights he has spent in the practice room, neglecting his studies and even his own health for the past two weeks. The moment Y/N cornered him about it, Hoseok broke down and told her everything — how he lacked the motivation to perform well in his recitals and how his course adviser told him to pull his shit together before he fucks up the nearing international dance competition.

“She told me that I’m dating you right now but why can’t I even pull my shit together like you do. That she doesn’t understand why you’re even dating me when you can date far more competent guys. That sooner or later, you’re going to break up with me. Because,” Hoseok sighs and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his cheeks, a tear slipping down them instead, “look at me. I’m so sloppy. I’m such a loser—”

“No, you’re not!” Y/N interrupts him and Hoseok jolts. “You…you’re not a loser. Sloppy, yes, sometimes,” Hoseok winces and Y/N grabs his arms and pulls him toward her so she can hug him tight. “Hoseok, listen to me. I’m your lover. No one else’s but yours. I love you and I will not leave you. I do not care about other guys, if they are more competent or whatever. After all, competency is just a social construct designed to promote the societal standards that aim for conformity.” Y/N disentangles herself from him to cup his face in her hands. “Hoseok, you are not a loser. And, you’ll never be.  How can you be at least an inch of one? You were the one who led countless competitions which won our university so many awards. Almost ALL the trophies in our campus’ Hall of Honor were all thanks to you. You were the one who helped our fashion design majors  grab an opportunity with various labels after your runway a year ago became viral. You were also the one responsible for resurrecting countless dead orgs with actually good goals. They even received rewards from the local government because of the projects you arranged! You’re not a loser, Hobi. In fact, you are the opposite of loser. It’s just your prof is an ungrateful bitch, demeaning you like that when you’ve brought glory to her name as your program adviser. What a fucking asshole, I could have punched her in the face and—”

Hoseok detaches his lips from hers and smiles. “I can’t believe I’m starting to rub off of you. You just said your first curse word. Two even!”

“Damn you, Hoseok. I’m being serious.”

“And so am I. Thank you for cheering me up, Y/N. This is why I love you so much!”

              Hoseok has always been honest to Y/N and she decides it’s only right for her to do the same.

              Y/N looks up at him. “Nayeon, Sungyoon, and…Sara cornered me yesterday and I thought it will be about what you are recently up to. Why you were absent at yesterday’s practice. It turned out they did this high school toxic open-forum-like session where they told me all my shits and why I shouldn’t hang out you. They said you were no longer the Hoseok you used to be because I kept dragging you down. That I…do not deserve you and you should be with girls like you. And you know what, I thought so, too. Because, you have far better things ahead from you than tying you down here with me.”

              “No one can tell what you deserve or not, Y/N,” Hoseok retorts. “Only you can. And, I know what you are thinking right now maybe the opposite of what you really think about yourself. But if I could help, I think you totally deserve me. Even more than that, honestly. Because, Y/N, you are not tying me down anywhere.  In fact you are tying me up. Not literally but figuratively. Okay” Hoseok closes his eyes, “I know it doesn’t make sense—whatever I say doesn’t make sense on the regular basis, so what’s the difference—but, what I mean to say is, Y/N, you are keeping me afloat. You are keeping my head up from the expectations and shitstorms that is plaguing me. You are helping me stay alive and keep pushing through all the difficulties I face. And for that, I am eternally grateful for you. So,” Hoseok smiles, “do not let anything anyone else says about us get to you. Because, they don’t really know anything about me and they very much don’t know anything about you. They don’t get to judge. Not when they do not know how it feels to have the most amazing angel by your side.”

              Y/N scrunches her face at him but she hugs him tight nevertheless. “Must you always be this cheesy and cringey?”

              “Only for you, baby,” Y/N could feel Hoseok grin from the top of her head. “Also, I’m gonna have a talk with those girls so expect apologies coming your way. And if things go the other way,” Hoseok clicks his tongue, “expect a decrease in my friends.”

              However, everything Hoseok spouted is easier said than done. Because truth be told, Hoseok thinks it is him who actually doesn’t deserve Y/N. She is intelligent but so is she kind. She’s mature and it is usually her who does most of the helping and progressing in their relationship. Most of all, it is more realistic to say, Y/N is the one who has far greater things ahead than him. And it became clearer to him the night she took him with her to her family’s home for one of her parents’ parties.

              Y/N countlessly told Hoseok she didn’t need to attend it. She even highly advised him not to come with her. But Hoseok has forever been stubborn so of course when he told Y/N he wanted to meet her family, he did every bit of convincing that get him to where he is now — shaken and lost in the middle of a fucking science exhibit of a party. The night actually started out well.  He introduced himself to every member of the L/N family, even distant ones who stayed in the farthest, most unnoticeable corners of Y/N’s house. Y/N’s family members welcomed him with smiles and actively talked with him. Her parents even handed him his plate of food themselves and invited him to spend Christmas with them.

              It only started going downhill when it was time for the main event of the party—the what-have-you-been-up-to lately segment or what Y/N would like to call the “let the best bragger win.” Everyone started spewing their achievements for the year in a fashion that challenges the other party to disclose their far greater successes. Which, ultimately, insult the others for their lack of any. The party felt as if it was a battlefield with every member of Y/N’s family pitting their achievements against each other, no matter what context they are in—even if they are not of the same category to even compare. Next thing Hoseok knew, he was being dragged into the center of the conversation, with Y/N’s father asking him to tell his “revolutionary thoughts.”

              Hoseok tried his best. He really did. He had recalled every lesson he learned in his Science-related GEs and even tried to apply them in the academic journals he saw Y/N reading. That’s why he doesn’t understand why every single time he opens his mouth, Y/N’s entire family is laughing at him. Is the Dual Nucleus Association found in fingerprints that funny? Hoseok didn’t take too long to ponder on it, for the next second, a hand is pulling him to the front doors of the L/N house. It takes another second for Hoseok to register Y/N was the one who’s dragging him onto the street in angry stomps.

              “Y/N! Why did we go out?” Hoseok pulls on her arm, “We have to come back! It will be rude to your parents! I don’t want to leave a bad impression y’know–”

              “It doesn’t matter, Hoseok!” Y/N whirls around, distraught, and Hoseok only notices just now her glazed eyes. Y/N chokes out, “Leaving an impression on them doesn’t matter because we have to get out NOW.”

              “What? No, Y/N! That’s not appropriate! I–”

              “Then is it appropriate for my parents and relatives’ to blatantly insult you right in your face?”

                 Hoseok takes a step back, “What? But they were laughing at me there. I guess my jokes are–”

                 “Hoseok, they were mocking you in there. We both hell know the fingerprint DNA trivia you were telling them is not a joke.”

                “But your father said the Dual Nucleus Association I muttered was revolutionary and funny.”

                Y/N closes her eyes as she releases a staggered sigh, “Hoseok, ‘revolutionary’ in my father’s dictionary meant ‘stupid.’” Hoseok scrunches his brows and Y/N breathes out, wishing she could let out as well the aggravation and loathing for her parents she has kept inside for so long. “He was making fun of you, Hobi. DNA does not stand for Dual Nucleus Association. It’s Deoxyribonucleic Acid. My father fucking knew what this means because he took a PhD in Microbiology and he didn’t even have the heart to correct you. He even put you up in front of everybody else and humiliate you without you even noticing it.”

                “W-what?”

                Y/N sighs for the nth time as she reaches for his hands. “Hoseok, I’m sorry I left you alone. This whole time, I didn’t know you were in my father’s care. It’s just that my cousin came to me and asked desperately for help about the verbal abuse he experiences at home. The way he asked for my help, I knew he’s about to-to blow up sooner or later. So I immediately went to his aid. And I guess I got so preoccupied trying to make him calm without triggering his panic attacks that I…did not see where you stayed in the party. Worse, I didn't fucking even know you were with my parents. I know this is not enough of an excuse and I have been a shitty girlfriend tonight. So I’m sorry, Hoseok. I’m deeply so so sorry. And right now, I’m trying to make up for my mistakes by telling you we should leave. Now. I cannot let any of them insult you more,” Y/N’s voice breaks and she raises her hand to wipe a tear that has cascaded down her cheeks, “I cannot, Hoseok, for so help me God, I will march over there and declare I want to denounce myself as a L/N.”

                Hoseok doesn’t reply. He just nods at her and looks down at his feet. Y/N gulps down the anxiety building up in her larynx as she leads the two of them to the car he rented. She opts for the driver’s seat and hits the gas. Within minutes, the two of them are enveloped by the silent nightscape, a stark contrast to the cacophony of pride in her house.

                “Hoseok,” the man turns to the sound of Y/N’s voice. “W-what else did my father say to you?”

                Hoseok starts to fumble with the loose thread of his navy suit jacket. “Do you…really want to hear it?”

                “Is it that bad?”

                “Well, I-your dad questioned my ability to provide for you in the future. Because of my major and aspirations and all.”

                Y/N turns to him, aghast, “What?! Why would he even say that? What, he started to forget women’s abilities to revert back to the traditional patriarchal views?! Fuck him!”

                “I knew you would say that,” Hoseok says, chuckling softly. Y/N faces him again, this time perplexed as to why he is laughing. Hoseok reads her look and he clears his throat.

                “When you told me I was being insulted in the party, I will admit I am offended. But, before that, during an earlier talk with your father, I was not the least bit upset.” Hoseok meets your eyes. “That time, I was scared. Immensely shit-scared.”

                “I should have come to you first, not my cousin–”

                “No, let me finish first.” Hoseok purses his lips. He then looks out of the car window, at the scarce stars on the sky. “I knew we are far apart from each other. It was obvious even before we got together. Hell, I do not even get the memes you send to me when we first started out as friends. Sometimes, I even get insecure that even if you are not really bestfriends with Namjoon, he seems to get everything you tell me you found at the lab. Just by listening to our conversations, he understands them all. So effortlessly at that. I even have to plead him to tutor me and dumb-translate the science-y things you tell me, while I dry my brains out trying to understand them. But when I talked with your father, tonight, how he reiterated your status and skills and their difference from mine…I have never been this scared in my life.   Scared that what he said will come true—that you will realize how someone like me can never truly understand you ‘til the long run. That you will get tired of slowing your pace down for me…That you will eventually find someone more compatible with you–who also has a much more stable future ahead of just an aspiring dancer.” Hoseok turns toY/N and he reaches out for her left hand, her free hand. He clasps them in his hands and looks up at her, “But, I swear Y/N, I promise I will do my best. Your father may not be convinced but I want you to know. That I will do my best for you, Y/N. I will learn more for you. I will understand you more. I will improve my reputation into a much more respectable one. Hell, I can quit dance if I have to.”

              Y/N gives Hoseok a pained look. “No, Hoseok, you will not quit dance. I do not want you to quit dance. It will be too unfair for you and I know you will regret it.”

              Hoseok sighs and shakes his head. “Yeah…that sounds easier said than done.”

              “You don’t have to do those things for me,” Y/N squeezes his hand, making him look back to her. “I actually enjoy helping you learn. I love that you goof off the way you want because when you do that, I am reminded people like you still exist today — people who are not afraid of being themselves. Because of that, you inspire me to live more. I also love that you put in the time learning the things I’m saying because it means you genuinely are interested about my thoughts and you are not afraid of women being smarter than you — something most guys fail at. But that’s because most of them are misogynistic, prideful men on their high horses. And, I know you’re not like that. Most of all, I love it when you dance. Because through it you freely express every bit of your emotion. Because, you’re transparent, Hoseok. You’re an open book and I like it the best because you don’t leave me hanging, confused, troubled, and worried about what you’re feeling, especially when you know I am already bad at reading emotions. You are my stable ground, Hoseok. You make me feel safe. And despite the bad fights we’ve been through, I know you’re always doing your best. How can we stay this long if not for you being the brighter one between us when it comes to communicating, knowing that splitting because of things that can be solved will only result in one hell of a horrible mistake?” Y/N turns to Hoseok and he looks at her with his mouth agape, eyes blown wide. She smiles at this. “You have to know you’re more than enough, Hoseok. Like you said,” her smile grows wider, “no one can tell us what we deserve or not but ourselves. And with this, I know and feel that I deserve you, Hoseok. And you, me. What do you say?”

              Hoseok’s response to that was not of a verbal one but a physical one—one that involved a feverish kiss on Y/N’s lips, and her jawline that led Y/N to park the car by the empty gasoline station. Feather-light kisses, desperate hands to grab each other as close as they can be to each other, Y/N indulges in Hoseok and him in her in a passionate love that burned so bright it rivals the sun. The only words that transpire during that fateful night was “I love you’s” and for Y/N and Hoseok, they are more than enough of an anchor of him to her and her to him as waves of obstacles come in your way.

              All of these moments with Y/N have accumulated into Hoseok’s most wonderful memories in his life. And he still replays them in his head as another year of being her lover passes. Of course, problems never failed to arise as they manage their relationship. But, the ones caused by the comments of everyone in the university have lessened as Y/N and Hoseok have now graduated. Hoseok has left the university after he graduated, while Y/N stayed in the university as she applied for a Master’s degree in civil engineering. 

             Y/N still lives in her dorm for the convenience of teaching in the campus and studying after work. Meanwhile, Hoseok lived in an apartment in the city, close to the prestigious dance studio he works at. Their schedules are most often than not, amiss, and the distance between them can be sometimes frustrating. However, what remains the biggest obstacle is everyone’s opinions about the two of them. Sure, they were not as restrictive as what the two of them have experienced in the university. But it didn’t mean it hurt less when people say how they never thought someone as fun as Hoseok will choose someone so boring like Y/N, or how Hoseok’s intellect was a down-grader for her respectable reputation, saying she has a tasteless choice in choosing partners. Although these problems may get a little overwhelming, the two of them never let them get in between their relationship. 

              Hence, Y/N and Hoseok are still madly in love like the first year they have started dating. So in love that Hoseok felt it is now the time to propose to Y/N. For anymore day without her officially bounded with him, when you already own every piece of his heart, is something Hoseok cannot take any longer. He wants Y/N to be his partner for the years to come, his significant other for forever, and the only person he wakes up to and sees last in his day and nights for the rest of his entire life. Hoseok knows this and he has never been surer in his life.

              This is the reason why Hoseok is where he is today: clad in an ugly Christmas sweater and mismatched socks, with a troubled look on his face. Hoseok may have only realized he wanted to marry Y/N in late November, but he was able to make an intricate proposal plan to execute before this year can end. Today is Y/N’s free day and he has classes that have ended early. Lucky for him, Jimin is free to take her out for some last-minute gift-shopping in the afternoon so Hoseok can have ample time to decorate Y/N’s dorm with hearts and diagrams of the hypothalamus (because “No, Hoseok, we do not say I love you from the deepest corner of my heart, but from the hypothalamus. We do not feel from the heart. It just pumps us blood”).  Hoseok will have the gifts he bought for Y/N delivered that very same day to complete his decorations (and to also spoil her even more). He will cook Y/N her favorite dishes and make her hot cocoa even though he very much likes eggnog more, just because she likes the sweet chocolate beverage. He even requested his orchestra friends Yoongi, Jinyoung, Seokjin, and Sandeul, to play Jingle Bell Rock (“in cursive”) on the far side of the hallway so when Jimin drops Y/N off, she can have her favorite Christmas song as her background music when she steps inside her room and gets surprised.

              That is why when his heart and hypothalamus decorations actually looked shit, the arrival of the gifts was delayed ‘til tomorrow, and the meals he cooked looked inedible—not to say the hot choco looked like a mess too and totally un-aesthetic—Hoseok finds himself frozen in his place next to Y/N’s Christmas tree, looking as if he was constipated for ten days. Worse, his girlfriend is already standing by her door frame, kicking the door close like it was just any other day. 

              Y/N hangs her coat on the hanger and puts her shopping bags on top of her wide cabinet. She nonchalantly glances at him, “Hoseok, what are you doing there?”

              Hoseok feels sweat run down his face in waterfalls. If Y/N is surprised he was standing stupidly next to her tree, she did not show it. But right now, Hoseok’s concern is her seeing the decorations he made chucked in a large paper bag he hid behind the tree at the last minute. Of course, it is poorly hidden. He plays with the collar of his sweater “I…um, I–”

              “Nevermind. I guess this is one of our spontaneous date nights you ironically always plan. You should inform me next time, you know, so I can prepare for you as well,” Y/N smiles at him. “Come sit with me.” She walks to the sofa by the Christmas tree and pats the seat next to her. Hoseok scrambles to sit beside her and tries not to look like the dumbest fool in the world. Y/N did not get surprised, the orchestra’s music is barely heard inside as the cold wind of early winter overrides it, and he looks totally shit. How can he propose to her now, huh? All of his plans are ruined!

              “Di-did you eat already?” Hoseok asks, hands sweaty on his sweatpants. “I made you your favorite.”

              “Umm…yeah,” Y/N bites her lip, guilty. “I was already hungry before Jimin and I can finish our shopping and I really felt a great need to devour some pizza today.” She reaches for her small satchel and produces a folded paper bag. “I saved some for you. We can eat it later while we watch Netflix.”

              “O-okay,” Hoseok nervously laughs. His eyes land on the pink mug on the dining table. He looks back at Y/N, “D-do you want to drink something? I made you hot cocoa.”

              “Ooh, I’ll drink it later. I just had a sweet choco milkshake before I got here,” Y/N bites her lips again in guilt. “I’m sorry, Hoseok, I didn’t know you prepared these stuff for me. If I had known sooner I would have never even stepped out of my dorm today.”

              “It’s okay,” Hoseok pulls a smile and he tries not to look a tad bit upset about the failure of his plans, because he knows Y/N will immediately recognize that look.

              And, he wasn’t wrong. “Why, Hobi?” Y/N cups his face to make him turn to her, “did I do something wrong?

              “No,” Hoseok looks away. “It’s just, my plans…didn’t work out today.”

              “What plans?”

              Hoseok immediately feels his ass on fire. Did he just almost give himself away? He cannot just blurt out he wants to marry her! He wanted it to be special and he cannot have that happen in just her dorm with his shitty-looking outfit and almost-burned food. He wants Y/N to remember this day and he ain’t taking the risk of letting any bad memories mess up his proposal. And so, Hoseok sighs and decides he has to abort the plan and schedule it some other day. He’s just gonna make an excuse for now. “Well, I just thought we can make this random Thursday special y’know? Keep up with the aim of my spontaneous dates–good surprises making life much better without needing a reason to be. So I just made some food and stuff for the fun of it. It’s just a normal day surprise.”

              “Oh, then I’m glad today is really spontaneous dates today. I may have…foiled your plans, but look, I happened to have a surprise for you!”

              Hoseok tilts his head, “What is it?”

              Y/N grins at him before turning around and fumbles for something in her bag. Then the next second, Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe is suddenly blaring loud from her phone.

              “Y/N, did you seriously just play Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe in speaker mode?”

              “Oh, don’t be an in-denial bitch. I know this is your favorite Christmas song. A good song has to create the aesthetic and mood for tonight,” Y/N chuckles, “Here, Hoseok, my present for you.” She hands him a box wrapped in a fancy green sparkling wrapper with a red bow tied around it. It was medium-sized, enough for one of his favorite KAWS models to fit inside.

              “Present?” Hoseok asks, feeling both joy and guilt respectively swell in his heart and pit in his stomach. Joy, because Y/N is to add another model to his growing collection. And guilt, because he didn’t bring her anything worth the same as her gift. But as he tears open the box, another fancy green box just stares back at him. He looks up at Y/N with squinted eyes. “I see what you did there, sneaky missy.”  She just chuckles at him and Hoseok continues to unbox her gift, only to have another box inside. Hoseok wonders what made Y/N think of doing this infamous wrapping technique for her gift when she wasn’t even that much into wrapping gifts. She always just give him gifts in standard wrapping paper, messily taped all over around. Moreover, what even is her gift and how small does it have to be? Because now, Hoseok’s hands are getting tired of unboxing box after box and the gift is now currently the size of a stress ball!

              “Y/N, can you just tell me your gift? I’m getting tired. I can open it tomorrow instead and we can just get straight to Netflix tonight.”

              “No, Hoseok,” Y/N laughs, patting his shoulders. “Keep unboxing.”

              Hoseok continues forth with the unboxing and his heart starts to sink to his stomach as the box got smaller and smaller. This is probably a prank. One to get back at him for telling Y/N last year he bought her her favorite gift for their monito event with Jimin, Taehyung, and Namjoon. Only for him to arrive with nothing but a bow on his head and shamelessly declare to everyone that he is her gift. Nothing must be inside this box to contain a gift so small. The box in his hand is now just the size of a small toy car!

              Hoseok sighs as he opens the box. Another green box will appear and then he’ll see the paper saying “Pranked you, Hobi!”

              But it does not.

              For the box on Hoseok’s hand right now, is gaping open to him right now. And all he sees is a sparkling, silver ring embellished with emeralds that seem to form waves around the base of the band. A fucking ring is sitting right on top of his hand.

              Hoseok gapes and just stares. Far too long that Y/N decides to break the silence. “Surprise! I bought you an engagement ring! With green emeralds just like your favorite color.” She grins at him as she holds Hoseok’s hands in hers, making him turn to her while he stays jaw ajar. 

              Y/N suddenly feels self-conscious and unconfident. This is not the reaction she is expecting. She starts to fear if she’ll spend the coming Holidays boyfriend-less. Just by looking at Hoseok’s stupified face, it looks everything is happening too fast and too sudden tonight for her boyfriend. Nevertheless, she says, “I-I know this may come off as a really big of a surprise. After all, this is an engagement ring and right now I am trying to propose to you. Barely, even. So, of course, this is definitely a shocker. Especially when we only just spent two years dating. Still too early for a proposal to come, as what others will usually expect,” Y/N’s voice breaks. 

              She wrings her hands together, her feet trembling beneath her, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to stop. “But, Hoseok, in these two years I have spent with you…I learned what it felt like to be loved and be in love with you. We fight, yes. Healthily usual even. But, at the end of the day, everything still feels worth it. And I guess,” Y/N  smiles, “I cannot get enough of it. I cannot get enough of you. Being your girlfriend no longer satisfied me. I now want to be your wife. I want to be the only person you’ll stress over science just to impress. I want to be the person who’ll be your home. The one you will come home to, wake up to, and sleep next to every night, every single day. I want to be your partner-in-crime, especially when we have kids and we’ll play some game I never heard of but will still enjoy in the end just because you like it. But only if you want kids, hehe.” Y/N laughs awkwardly and scratches her nape. “Hoseok, I know I am clumsy in saying my feelings for you. Today is my first time saying everything so honest and raw like this so I know this may shock you. God, you don’t know how many times I practiced this speech in my office. Other professors must already be thinking I’m going crazy—anyway, what I only want to say is,” Y/N reaches for Hoseok’s hand and kisses it. “Hoseok, I want to stay by your side for the rest of my life.” When she looks up at him, she says, “And it will only happen if you’d also love to be by my side forever as well. So what do you say?”

              “W-what, I will say?” Hoseok repeats, still shaken. However, he’s so happy he cannot help the wide grin splitting on his face. “Yes, Y/N, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Forever and ever and ever and ever.”

              “R-really?” Y/N’s releases a relieved sigh, fingers wiping the tears that have formed on her eyes. “T-Then, why did you look like as if you’re about to walk out on me when you opened the box?”

              Hoseok cups her face in his hands, wiping away the tears. “Because you remind me a lot of the Grinch. The only difference is in the end, his heart grows three sizes, but you stay an asshole.” Y/N scowls at this and hits his chest, hard. Hoseok coos at her as he hugs her tight and chuckles, “You’re an asshole because you headed out straight for my heart—hook, line, and sinker — and now I am completely blown away when I was supposed to be the first one to do so. Seriously, Y/N, I did not expect this to happen this way. Not when I also prepared a surprise for you tonight.” 

              Y/N’s brows raise in curiosity. Hoseok unzips his gym bag on the sofa and turns back to her, now with a red velvet box on his hands. 

              Hoseok pops open the box, a ring of the same design as the one she bought him stares back at her. But this one, instead of green emeralds, is embellished with blue emeralds, her favorite color.  Right then and there, Y/N wanted to cry.

              Hoseok rubs his nape. “I’m supposed to propose to you tonight as well. But you beat me right to it and now I forgot my speech.”

              Y/N chuckles at that as she wipes away the tears that have formed yet again on her eyes. Hoseok smiles as he squeezes her hand. “But, that doesn’t mean I’ll skip on this once-in-a-lifetime’s opportunity to propose to you,” Hoseok looks at her, “Y/N, I love you. And I know forever can be a heavy word and sometimes love cannot solve every problem that may come our way. But Y/N, what I said two years ago hasn’t changed. I will try my best. For you, I will. And we may be young but I know you and I are capable to make us work for as long as time can let us. Because you are Y/N, and I’m Hoseok. People may be against us but we know with each other, we are the best we can ever be. We deserve each other. We need each other. But most of all, we love each other. That’s all we need. Me and you. You and me.” After he breathes out, Hoseok cups Y/N’s cheeks and she leans forward and interlocks their lips in a soft kiss. 

              Y/N grabs onto Hoseok’s ugly green sweater and deepens the kiss, letting her mouth do the talking for her and him. For no words can be enough to express everything that is settling in their hearts tonight — euphoric bliss, the sweet feeling of triumph. Although Y/N can feel a tinge of the uncertainty of what may come to the two of them in the future grappling on her nerves, there resides in her heart the greater courage that despite the unpredictability of life, Y/N knows she can manage it with the constant she now has by her side — Hoseok. And for him, her. Because, Y/N is certain this is the most right decision she has ever made in her life: loving him. And, Hoseok proves it is the same for him as when the kiss comes into a close, he whispers on her lips, “Guess the déjà vu tonight is really working at its best. Fate really wanted us to be together.”

              Y/N grins at him, her forehead bumping into his, “And where’s your proof, future Mr. Y/N L/N?”

              Hoseok presses a kiss on Y/N’s forehead, on her cheeks, on her nose, then at the corner of her ear. He whispers, “Look outside.”

              And there outside, white droplets fall from the sky, lighting up the near-black horizon while frosting up the window panes. It is the first snow. Y/N smiles. What Hoseok said to her when she reciprocated his love confession doesn’t seem so preposterous now. It seems like fate really tied the two of them up together as she first met and started dating Hoseok when the first snow fell. There’s a saying that whoever you’re with during the first snow, you will be with that person for a long time. Y/N and Hoseok have already been living proof of that for being together in three years—friendship plus dating days combined — amidst whatever people say against them two. 

              And Y/N hopes, that as she and Hoseok promise forever to each other tonight, the saying will come true. Because she wants the two of them to be together for a very, very, very long time.  After all, Hoseok is right. She is  Y/N and he is Hoseok and together, they are the best they can ever be, titles and achievements be damned. The weather may be cold during these pinnacle moments of her and his relationship but their hearts are warm and cozy, and there is nothing more Y/N could ask for.

Epilogue:

“You know, Y/N, my original proposal was beautiful, I’m sure I’ll have you bawling tonight.”

Y/N gives him a look and Hoseok laughs, “Good thing they’re gone now. D’you know I actually wrote my entire proposal in my hands? They just got erased because my hands have become so sweaty when I chucked away the decorations I made for you.”

“What decorations?”

Hoseok pulls on the collar of his sweater, “Cut-outs of hearts and hypothalamus?”

“R-really? You remembered what I said to you three years ago?”

“Of course, babe,”Hoseok smiles, “It’s you. How can I forget that? But they’re not available anymore as I already threw them away. They looked like shit.”

“Where did you throw them?”

“In a paper bag….by your Christmas tree–hey, why are you picking it up?”

Y/N turns towards him, smiling, her hands gently holding the crushed hearts and hypothalamus cut-outs. “Because you made it for me, Hoseok. Of course they hold value to me. It’s you.”

“You’re really a Grinch, you know? You’re making me cry with your sweetness and beauty when I should be jumping up and down with joy right now.”

“….Do you always have to be cheesy like this?”

“Only for you, babe. And get used to it. You have a forever to experience this one-in-a-million love from the one and only Jung Hoseok.”

A/N pt. 2 | Hi hons! Sorry my Christmas gift for you all was late! My requirement deadlines in uni ended up until Dec. 16 and so for the majority of December, I was solely focused on uni stuff. I tried limiting myself from using page breakers in this fic, a challenge I put on myself to train my skills again in doing transitions in my writing. This story is inspired by the rivalry of science and art majors in our uni in my first year! Also! I hoped you guys appreciate my take on @kwritersworld’s prompt. I want to incorporate it in a very unexpected way, while at the same time, reflects my character in a way I‘ve never done before. OC here is a bit grumpy and lacks social skills to be friendly so I interpreted her as an everyday-Grinch hehe). Lastly, @bts-poetry, I really enjoyed doing mini Q&As with you! I hope you like this gift and I also hope we can talk more in the future!

All Rights Reserved 2019 © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed without direct permission.

[border-spam]

Leech Lord HCs - How do you really feel?

Tyreen:

Troy: 

Likes - His kindness. It goes beyond the snare he's trapped in, she knows that and is thankful for it. He's not empathetic to her, caring towards her, and kind to her because he has to be or because he's stuck with her. He's like that because it's who he really is, and he loves her dearly. It means a lot to someone so surrounded by paper thin affection.

Dislikes - He's a downer. He questions everything, worries constantly. Her ideas always have to be picked apart, her plans second guessed. He rolls things in his mind over and over till he warps them into being lost causes, into trying to convince her to give up before she starts. He's wrong.

Seifa: 

Likes - Her ability to form relationships. Ty was never able to grasp exactly what she was doing wrong that came so effortlessly to the other woman. Seifa is magnetic in a way that doesn't need manipulation, or threats. The friendships and relationships she forms are long lasting and solid. They are genuine, while Tyreen can only seem to surround herself with sycophants and people who'd either die for her without knowing who she actually is as a person, or abandon her the second they were in danger. She trusted Seifa within days of meeting her, completely. It's a trait she wishes she could emulate.

Dislikes - Too vocal with her opinions. Thinks her feedback for Ty is far more important than Tyreen does, that it holds far more sway than it has in reality. Ty would love to see her finally have a reckoning about who's in power now, which of them is the one who should be offering advice to the other. Who's the one who turned out more successful. It's long due. Why a junker would think a Goddess should give a shit about her opinion is a mystery.

Troy:

Tyreen:

Likes - Her emotional intelligence. It's not something Ty herself is super aware of, but that woman can see through metal and meat and straight to the core of your bones. In hindsight, that's probably a big factor in how well she can manipulate others, but it also means she's just.. so good at helping you feel better. She always knows what to say to him when he's suffering, and her moments of genuine kindness towards other people who are surprised at how well she knows them are things he'd love to see more of from her. They make her so happy, even if she doesn't notice.

Dislikes - Self absorption. He knows it's not her fault, it's The Leech. He knows it's not really Tyreen. He can remember Tyreen, and he still sees moments of her every day in a smile, or a kind gesture, or a real laugh. He also sees her grin viciously as people tear themselves apart in front of her for a moment of her attention. He watches her cut the provisions budget and pump funds into marketing when he knows they can afford to increase food supplies to the outskirts of the city slums. He just wishes... nothing. Doesn't matter.

Seifa

Likes - Her confidence in herself. Sei is so relaxed in both the person she shows to others, and her unprotected self around friends. He's found her an intensely comforting presence to be around since they met because of it. Her solid sense of self is the complete opposite to his own fragile internal worth, and being around someone like that grounds him. He looks up to her, and she likes Troy, is relaxed around him and happy... so what does that make him then? Maybe not so pathetic as he often feels he is.

Dislikes - Her elitism. It's hard to miss how easily Seifa will shrug off someone else's ideas or feedback based on her simply feeling that she's better than them in some way on the topic. He's had multiple vicious arguments with her based on her ignoring a direct order from him, as if she forgets who her employer is and still sees him as some stupid child she can veto. She knows it's a problem, it has caused her issues in the past, she's been put in severe danger from it before, and he knows she's trying to get better. The apology after helps and it's not enough to cause problems between them when they are so close, but it still twists his guts every time he see's her act like a haughty little bitch to someone he knows is actually her better on the subject.

Seifa

Tyreen:

Likes - Her wonderful creativity. Tyreen is a performer, natural born. She is so clever, so artistic, SO wonderfully interesting and exciting to be around as a person. Listening to her get into the depths of explaining what happened in the last episode of whatever shit romcom she's been watching, acting out the scenes, jumping between the characters and launching into over the top emotional spiels? It's brilliant, it has her and Troy crying laughing usually. She's artistic, she's fun, she's a non stop font of ideas and suggestions, or, she used to be at least. They don't really talk.. this openly anymore.

Dislikes - Her complete lack of empathy towards who she manipulates. Sei herself is not exactly the most caring person for the run of the mill Pandoran scum but even she gets winces of distaste seeing how Tyreen treats her "followers". How she treats her Saints is worse, like disposable playthings fighting against stakes so high their lives are literally on the line. And Troy? Troy's the real victim in this. Sei doesn't believe for a moment that Tyreen is unaware of the damage she's been doing to him for years now, she must know. She must see how she's cutting deeper every time. Twisting the knife into his bowels a little sharper each time she grinds him underfoot to get what she wants. She just doesn't care, and that's a problem, because Sei does.

Troy: 

Likes - DeLeon. Every little slip of his persona, every minute alone with that man as he excitedly shows you the shitty little gadget he spent hours making, or stutters as he offers food he remembered you saying you liked and he tried to cook, or listens eagerly to you retell a stupid thing that happened last week while his goofy wide smile and twinkling eyes betray his happiness -  is a window into who he should have been. It's a constant reminder that he's still there, under this awful filth he layers over himself, and that he can shake it off one day if he has the support he needs to help reassemble the pieces of Troy back into what they were meant to be.

Dislikes - His cowardice. Troy only has three people in his life he can blame for his real deepset personal failures and issues, and they are himself, Tyreen, and Seifa. He never blames Tyreen. He will sit in shaking fury, tears of frustration rolling down his cheeks, defending her as Sei tries to explain how he's being controlled. He has hurt people before, lashed out physically in explosive rage at people who so much as dared imply his sister may not have his best interests at heart. He is a coward who will blame himself, and as time goes on, Seifa, for his problems, and she cannot stand that weakness. It's disgusting, and having him attack her verbally, smash a cybernetic fist capable of crushing her into the wall next to her head as he screams that she's at fault? Weak. Pathetic. Enough to make her want to walk away.

[ryuumarsart]

My Evil!Pink AU. This is an old headcanon, now AU, from around the time "The Trial" came out. It was mostly me ignoring all the signs that Rose was Pink Diamond and shamelessly making Peridot the main character lol. This is centered around my old belief that Yellow Diamond was the one who shattered Pink...but in self-defense. I predicted (correctly) that Pink suffered abuse from the other Diamonds, being constantly put down and punished for her child-like nature. After a long fight for her own colony and to finally have a chance to prove herself, she does get one. And it goes terribly. She initially wants to give the colony a little more freedom to run itself, wanting to distance herself from the other Diamonds. However, the others don't approve of this method and forced her to double down on her control. This led to a growing sense of discontent channeled by one of her own creations, a Rose Quartz who she trusted and has now turned against her. This rebellion is yet another failure by Pink and one that she cannot fix on her own, leading to Yellow . Yellow does not hide her disappointment of Pink and openly chastises her in front of her own court. Blue meanwhile guilt trips Pink and emotionally manipulates her along the lines of "Why do you do this to us?" and "You wanted this. I should have seen that you weren't ready, but you insisted." Being in the middle of a WAR, Pink encounters a large amount of trauma, such as an instance where a fringe group of the rebellion attempted to assassinate her and she started becoming paranoid, expecting an attack at any time. Pink's resentment of others and cynicism grew, especially that of Yellow. She was increasingly violent on the battlefield, even brutally shattering a large fusion (which definitely reminded her of Yellow), contributing to Garnet's view of Pink as a merciless monster. She eventually comes to the conclusion that she wouldn't have to feel so ashamed, feel so fearful if Yellow wasn't there. If Yellow was shattered by the rebellion, they would finally retreat and the other Diamonds would retaliate against the rebellion rather than blaming her. (Some very flawed reasoning but it fits canon Pink's terrible life choices lol) In a similar way as described in The Trial, Pink leads Yellow away from others and attempts to shatter her, but Yellow easily overpowers her and accidentally shatters her. Pink states that "You didn't even hesitate?" showing how convinced she is that Yellow hates her. Yellow feels intense grief and guilt for this, but doesn't want to taint Blue's memory of the precious, young Pink. She places the blame on Rose, who accepts and runs with this narrative for her cause (who may still be morally grey as she witnessed the ordeal and did nothing to stop it). And White is there I guess?? At the time of this headcanon, I thought White was the fusion of Pink, Blue, and Yellow so she doesn't have a big role. Pink goes to the afterlife, which is a gray wasteland (see above) where gems who have unfinished business in the living world wander with holes where their gems would be. If their unfinished business gets resolved, they disappear, moving on. Meanwhile on Earth, everything goes as normal except Lapis has been training Peridot to use her metal powers. I mean, they're both telekinetic powers so they should work similarly. Plus, Lapidot is my heart and soul so I'll take any excuse for them to be closer (it's canon in this AU). Peridot wants to go on missions with the others, but keeps being swept aside due to her physical weakness and inexperience with her powers. However at some point (maybe after the Rubies and them go to the moon??) a group of Homeworld gems come to either as a Jasper rescue team 2.0 or as retribution for stuff Steven does in space. Garnet decides to bring everyone on board to defend Earth, including Peridot and Lapis. I haven't decided what gems actually show up but maybe some more quartz gems?? Either way, the threat is big enough for the team that Garnet seems visibly concerned. They win the fight, but at a cost. Peridot sacrifices herself in battle and is shattered. Having built a friendship with the entire team, her death absolutely wrecks everyone. Steven desperately tries to heal her, but fails. In her grief, Lapis almost shatters the Homeworld gems, but Steven stops her. She falls into a deep depression and refuses to leave the barn, instead spending her days holding onto Peridot's shards. Amethyst confronts Garnet about how this evaded her future vision and why she would bring Peridot if she would die. Garnet snaps and says "If I didn't bring them, it would have been one of us!" Amethyst becomes furious and yells that Peridot is one of them. She and Pearl give her the cold shoulder and refuse to hear her out. (This is mostly because I feel like Garnet never has a moment where she messes up and everyone is mad at her. She's always right and that made her boring to me) Steven later learns that Garnet saw that if she didn't bring Lapis and Peridot, it was almost impossible to win the fight without someone being shattered. However, if they came, there was more of a chance of losing no one, but their lives would be at risk. She had a hard choice to make, and it didn't work out. There would be a whole arc of everyone confronting their grief and comforting each other. In the end, Garnet is forgiven and Lapis decides to move into the temple, becoming closer to main cast. She literally lets go of Peridot, putting her shards with the other bubbled gems. In the last part of the arc, Steven visits Peridot's bubble and recalls how much of an impact she had and tells her to not worry, everyone will be okay. Also, he opens up about his guilt of not being able to bring her back. However, it seems like there are fewer shards and the pieces have gotten bigger. He attributes this to denial and looking for something that isn't there. Nonetheless, he visits again a few days later and realizes that it wasn't denial, the gem is being put back together. Peridot's gem still has large cracks filled in by his healing tears, but it is pretty much healed. He and the other gems pop her bubble, but something goes wrong when she tries to reform. Chunks of her body are missing, most notably half of her face. She can't walk or move as well as before, but everyone is overjoyed to have her back. She is also missing some memories from the cracks in her gem. Lapis is extremely protective of her and will not let her so much as walk without her there. Amethyst, on the other hand, wants to go back to having fun and going on missions. Peridot forces a compromise where she can go out to the barn and the town, but only with escorts. She tests if her metal powers still work by trying to lift a can. Unbeknownst to her at first, she accidentally lifts most of the barn. Her powers are greatly heightened, but to an almost uncontrollable level. Eventually she convinces the other gems to let her on a mission to the strawberry battlefield to retrieve more weapons or something. Upon arriving, she immediately has a terrible seizure, yelling "Please STOP!!" and "Please! One at a time!". She is brought back into the afterlife, where many gems are clamoring for her attention to resolve their unfinished business. After calming down the crowd, she speaks to a gem who was shattered on the battlefield, but whose shards were never found. Peridot awakens and point the gems to the hidden shards, giving peace to the shattered gem. She soon realizes how much of a curse this connection to the afterlife is as she cannot go into a battlefield without tons of gems asking for peace and overwhelming her, or hold a conversation with Pearl or Garnet without them asking about a past loved one. She even learns that Rose did this once before, but the gem she healed was so miserable that she had to keep it bubbled...yayyy. It becomes much worse when Pink finds her. Peridot had been successfully fighting off the other shattered gems trying to control her, but Pink is too strong for her. Pink is able to possess her, using Peridot's body to finally live again, to the horror of the other gems. Pink introduces herself to Steven and the others and claims that she was wrongly killed. After all, she was only doing what the other diamonds were telling her to do. She had to fight against the rebellion. Even if she ruled over the colony and fought in the war, did that mean she deserved to die? Surely the least Steven could do to right his mother's wrongs would to bring her back to life and finally get the diamonds to leave Earth alone. The other gems of course don't trust her and don't want to bring another diamond into the world; even Peridot objects, feeling like there was a reason that the other gems in the afterlife feared her. Pink senses Steven's hesitation and repeatedly takes over Peridot's body, torturing her day by day while insisting that she is only doing what she must to reunite with her family. Peridot insists that he shouldn't do this for her sake and that she doesn't matter; she definitely says at some point that "Some things are better left dead, Steven!!". This isn't enough though as Steven caves in and meets with the diamonds. Pink possesses Peridot to talk with them, verbally torturing Yellow and insisting that she tell Blue "what she did". Yellow deflects and tries to convince Blue not to bring her back, but unable to persuade her without also revealing the truth. Steven heals Pink, but her gem was even more shattered than Peridot's, causing her form to be more mangled and distorted. Also, her powers are much stronger and she doesn't hesitate to fight Yellow. However, she overestimated her ability and the diamonds escape. Pink regains her old armies (including the Jaspers and Rose Quartzes) and tries to turn the other diamond's gems against them. (This is where things get messy as I haven't completely thought them through) Pink isolates Yellow and surprises her, killing her quickly and "not hesitating, just like you". White and Blue try to reason with her, but to no avail. Pink's armies overwhelm them and they are both shattered. Pink declares herself sole ruler of the gem empire, but is stopped as she feels herself losing control. The other diamonds fight her from the afterlife to take over her body and force her to shatter herself. The war is finally over, but the colonies are left to recover with no leaders and the aftermath of Pink's rule. The crystal gems and the rebels throughout the universe have to work to reform gem society and fix the damage the diamonds have done. Or something like that. tl;dr Pink was traumatized by the gem war and tried to kill Yellow, but Yellow shattered her instead. Pink blackmails Steven from the afterlife into bringing her back to life and letting her get revenge by using Peridot, who was shattered and healed. All the diamonds end up dying and the universe is freed from their tyranny.