#And just. I'm just in the worst frame of mind to turn another year old I'm so full of dread and despair I just don't want it to happen this

[mellotronmkll]

I'm so amped to have the most depressing and sad birthday of my life on Friday 🙏

[sescoups]

on my knees - choi seungcheol

masterlist

summary: your best friend and roommate is out of the country, and you come home to find nothing short of a disaster. who else would you have called but her brother?

word count: ~9k oops

a/n: I have no fucking clue what happened to me, but I just started writing and then didn't stop for like 4 hours so. here you go. you're welcome and also I'm sorry.

18+ MDNI!! warnings under the cut!

warnings: heavy kissing, seungcheol is the epitome of a Simp, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't), oral sex (f receiving), slight size kink, let me know if I missed something!

You had been best friends with Sua since you were both six years old. One of the older boys had pushed you onto the ground, wanting to be ahead of you in the line for the slide. Most of the other kids had laughed as tears started pouring down your cheeks, your knee rubbed red and raw and your pretty dress covered in dust and gravel.

“Are you really so immature you can’t even wait your turn?” a small voice had piped up.

Through the haze of your tears, you had seen a pretty black-haired girl kneel down to help you out. She had brushed away the worst of the dirt from your dress, and leaned in to look at your knee.

“I don’t know much about scrapes,” she said thoughtfully, “but I think you should clean it. That’s what my mom always says to me and my brother.” Then she smiled before standing up and glaring at the boy again. “You’re a poopyhead, and I will never play with you.”

Thinking back on it as adults, you always laughed at her phrasing; even more amusing was the way the little boy had taken Sua’s comment way too seriously and tried to fight her in the playground. Before any of the adults had been able to intervene, Sua’s older brother had stepped between the two of them menacingly, arms crossed across his chest. He was three years older, so the other boy quickly back-tracked when faced with Seungcheol’s nine-year old frame. After the little boy had run away out of fear, crying, the two siblings had helped you off the ground and to your parents.

The rest was history; playdates as children, study dates in middle and high school, and spending every single summer vacation together. You had gone from climbing trees to shopping at the mall, and from learning the alphabet to crying your way through chemistry together. Well, you more than her, but still. The suffering was mutual.

Your dynamic remained largely unchanged throughout the years. You were the crier, and Sua was the fixer. You hated the way you cried at the smallest inconveniences, and often felt bad for Sua for having to fix it, but she always said it was cute. She said you were just like that, and that was okay. Sua had her own quirks, mainly being quick to anger - you reassured her that you didn’t mind holding her back from fights and silencing her before she could yell insults at undeserving people, so really, you were the same. Just, you know, in a different way.

Another thing that never really changed was the way Seungcheol took care of the both of you. He helped out with homework when he could, taught Sua how to fight (truly a dubious decision considering her anger, but that was his business and not yours), and scared away any icky boys that were mean to you.

It was a very different dynamic to how other siblings seemed to act, but since you were an only child, you wouldn’t really know. Though, to be fair, he seldom held back the snarky comments when the opportunity presented itself. He would roll his eyes whenever you cried, call Sua an idiot when she didn’t understand a math problem, and generally be a dick when you played games together. It was all in good fun, you supposed.

Now, being 24 years old and two years out of college, Sua was your roommate and your rock. She was the one who put up with your generally messy habits and lack of cooking acumen, and she only complained once a month or so. In return, you were the one to make sure bills were paid on time and keep the freezer stocked with ice cream during the hot summer months. A symbiotic relationship, if you’d ever seen one.

You saw significantly less of Seungcheol, though he was far from an uncommon fixture in your household. He knew the code for the keypad on the door, so sometimes he just showed up unannounced to raid your kitchen and take a nap on your couch, but you didn’t mind. He did tend to fix anything that was broken and clean up whatever you couldn’t be bothered to, so the transaction was fair in your opinion.

One fateful Tuesday, you received a call during your lunch break at work. Usually, you wouldn’t answer, preferring to take your 45 minutes to scroll down your social media feeds aimlessly while eating your food, but Sua had always had special privileges, so you picked up anyway.

“Hey, sorry, I know I’m interrupting your scheduled vegetable time,” she started, and you snorted in response.

“I am not eating anything with vegetables in it, and I think you know it.” You were opening the store-bought lunchbox while speaking, your phone tucked between your elbow and your cheek.

“If I didn’t cook you dinner every day, you would have scurvy,” she shot back without a second’s hesitation. “No, dumbass, I meant your own brain-turning-to-vegetable time. Duh.”

“Oh, that,” you replied, unphased by her insults and generally snarky tone. You were used to it. And also kind of deserved it.

“Yeah. Well anyway, something came up at work and I’m gonna have to take an unscheduled work trip.”

“Cool. Where to?”

“Tokyo, so not that far,” she sighed, and you could picture her running her fingers through her hair. She never did well with unexpected travel plans. “I have to leave tonight. I just thought I’d let you know, so you can make plans to get takeout tonight.”

You scoffed down the line, placing a forkful of bulgogi in your mouth and chewing quickly. God bless convenience store lunchboxes. “I know how to take care of myself, mom.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you slob.” Again, you could picture Sua’s nose crinkling in disgust. “I’m kidding, by the way. I know you can take care of yourself. Just letting you know I’m leaving so you don’t think I’ve been kidnapped or killed or something.”

“Thank God I don’t have to deal with the paperwork for a missing person,” you deadpanned and took a drink of your Sprite. “No but for real, enjoy the trip. I’ll be fine, and so will you.”

“Thanks,” your best friend sighed back. “I’ll be back in a week or so. I’m gonna go home and pack now, so if anything’s a mess when you get home- actually, nevermind. That doesn’t bother you at all. Bye.”

“Hey-” you started to protest, but the line went dead and you rolled your eyes.

Well. At least now you could have sushi for dinner without having to listen to Sua complain about the smell of raw fish.

You were so ready to become a couch potato as soon as you came home. One of the new employees at work, Jun, had screwed up a pretty important document, so you’d had to stay late and help him fix it. It wasn’t his fault, he was still new, but you were tired nonetheless. You took your shoes off by the door and turned the lights on in the kitchen, placing the bag of takeout on the counter before you heard it.

The water.

You had never had any issues with the pipes in your apartment, but something had obviously gone wrong with the pipes under the bathroom sink, because the floor was absolutely flooded. You gasped and shut your eyes tightly for a second, willing the problem to be miraculously gone as soon as you opened them again. Alas, no such luck.

The tears pressed behind your eyes, begging to make their escape. You tried to hold them back as you thought about what to do to solve the problem. The faucet wasn’t on, so it was definitely the pipes. Damn. You thought about calling the apartment management and asking for help, but their turnover time was two days at the best of times, and the office was already closed for the day. You heaved a deep sigh as you settled on the best option you could think of. You pressed the name in your contacts and begged the universe that he would pick up.

“What’s up?”

Seungcheol sounded relaxed and unbothered, and you could hear the chatter of a TV in the background. You hated to bother him, but hey, it was his little sister’s apartment too. You cleared your throat to try and get rid of the thickness in your throat brought on by the tears.

“Hey, Cheol,” you began, and you heard him sit up immediately and pause whatever was playing on the TV.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

He sounded worried; he usually only called you an endearment when he was worried or teasing you. Clearing your throat had evidently not been enough to get rid of the tears in your voice. Some of them finally escaped in tracks down your cheeks, and you swore, leaning your forehead against the doorframe.

“So uh, I just got home, and Sua isn’t here because she’s in Tokyo and I-”

“Y/N, I don’t care about Sua right now. I know she’s fine, she landed half an hour ago. What’s going on with you?”

“The guest bathroom is flooded, like completely, and I don’t know what to do.”

You heard the rustling of clothes and what sounded like keys jingling through the phone. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were fucking dying,” Seungcheol scolded, and you hiccupped a little, apologizing. “No, don’t worry darling, I’m coming over to help, okay?”

“Okay.”

You were sniffling, and you heard him curse under his breath. You hung up after a quick goodbye, and then you were left alone with the mess again. Looking closer, you realized that the bath mat was soaked along with a towel left on the floor. You sighed and took your socks off, deciding to do something productive while waiting for your knight in shining armor.

You took a picture and sent it to Sua, who replied immediately with a bunch of question marks and swear words directed to the apartment management. She also realized they would be no help at this hour. Great.

Once the soaked bath mat and towel were hung up and dripping into the tub as opposed to the flooded floor, you started clearing out some of the decorations that were taking up floor space. There was a giant plant, two laundry baskets, and a really heavy wooden dresser that held all your clean towels - you didn’t want the wood to rot.

You heard the door open while you were in the process of moving the plant. Honestly, you should have waited for Seungcheol to move this one; the plant was heavy as fuck and really awkward to carry, and you could feel your back protesting before you had even gotten it outside of the bathroom.

“What the hell, Y/N.”

The voice was closely followed by a pair of hands grabbing the plant from you and heaving it outside of the door in mere seconds. Showoff.

“Are you okay?” Seungcheol asked after placing the plant down on a towel, grabbing your upper arm gently. You nodded, and he sighed, squeezing your arm. “Let’s see the- oh fuck.”

You couldn’t help it, you started laughing. Hysterically. The bathroom floor was covered in two inches of water, and the sound of more spraying out was echoing off the walls. Your best friend’s brother glared at you for two seconds before he started laughing too. It wasn’t funny, but it kind of was. How had this even happened? And how had Sua not seen anything when she was home to pack?

“Sorry, Cheol,” you giggled, wiping under your eyes to get rid of the tears that were still falling. Typical. “I, uh, wanted to move the plant and the dresser to make more room and-”

“Darling, that plant was almost heavier than you are. Not to mention that dresser. What were you thinking?”

His voice soothed your panic. He had been solving your problems for the past eighteen years, after all; this was nothing he couldn’t handle. He looked ruffled, you realized. He had been relaxing after a long day at work when you called, and had gotten to your apartment as fast as he could just to help you. And now he was here, being all nice and caring and calling you sweet names. You felt like a stupid child.

“I-I’m sorry. For calling you, I shouldn’t have, I-”

“Absolutely not. You can call me about anything at any time, you got that?” he asked sternly, gazing directly into your eyes. You swallowed, but nodded. His words gave you unwelcome butterflies, the intensity of his gaze making you look away.

“Got it,” you replied when a nod didn’t seem to be enough for him. “Uhm, so how do we deal with this?”

For a moment, the only sound you could hear was the steady spray of water coming from under the sink. You realized that all the products underneath would be useless now, and you would probably have to change out the entire cabinet housing the pipes. You felt a migraine start a steady throb against your temples, and you deflated even more, resting against the doorway.

“It’s okay, I’ll fix it for you, darling,” Seungcheol said softly, pulling you in for a hug. Your stomach erupted in butterflies again. You seriously needed some psychological help.  “Just go change, okay? You must be exhausted.”

You shook your head, but relented when he lifted an eyebrow at you. You went to your room and closed the door. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at nothing. Your bathroom was flooded. And your best friend’s brother was helping you fix it, calling you sweet nicknames and saying shit straight out of a romance novel - as if your dumb crush on him needed any more encouragement. You sunk onto the edge of your bed for a moment, just breathing deeply and blinking back more tears. Enough was enough.

When you were fourteen or so, you’d had a crush on Seungcheol. Who wouldn’t? He was tall, pretty, smelled good, and helped you with your homework. Ever since then, it would come and go, usually at the most inopportune times. You appreciated his looks pretty often, particularly when he came over to fix stuff for you and Sua, but you tried not to think about it much - mostly out of self preservation. He was still pretty, still nice, still smelled good, and whenever you let your mind wander for more than five seconds, you knew you were in danger.

You definitely should get it under control. First of all, he had known you since you were six. He had seen all your weird phases, watched you find your own identity, and that came with some really cringy stuff. Additionally, you were his little sister’s best friend. You had some loyalty to her, sure, but more than anything you were sure that he saw you as an extra sister or something. Considering the amount of time you had spent at their house growing up, that would only be logical.

Armed with the reminder of why he would never be into you, you shook it all off. You located your regular home attire - bike shorts and a big t-shirt which origins you forgot - and put your hair up and out of your face. Then you steeled yourself again, vowing not to cry at the sight of the water, and walked back towards the accursed bathroom.

You found Seungcheol on his knees in front of the open cabinet from where the water came. He was hunched over, hand in front of him to block some of the water and seemingly looking for something. His white t-shirt had been sprayed with water, and it was sticking to his chest. You gulped at the sight, repeating that he saw you as an annoying crybaby to yourself in order to stop the stupid butterflies that had seemingly taken up permanent residence in your guts.

“Do you need a flashlight or something?” you asked timidly, making him look up at you. He paused and blinked at you once, twice, before clearing his throat and nodding. You got out your phone and turned the flashlight on, carefully stepping in behind him so as not to splash him.

“I, uh, think we need to remove this middle shelf from the cabinet,” he said, having positioned himself to shield you from the spray.

“Alright,” you replied, placing your phone to the side and leaning to grab the shelf before being stopped by one of his hands. He had placed it carefully on bare skin so as not to get your clothes wet. Damn him. “What? I’ll just grab it and get it out of the way for you.”

He scoffed. “You’ll get wet.”

Now it was your turn to blink at him stupidly, eyes wide and questioning. You could feel your cheeks burning, as did your arm where his hand was resting. This stupid, stupid man was going to make you fall in love with him, and that just couldn’t happen. At all.

“Who cares, Cheol? It’s just water. Let me get it out of your way, and I’ll hold the flashlight again, okay?”

He grimaced, but let go of your arm. You grabbed both sides of the shelf and lifted it. It took a bit of pressure, but eventually it came loose. You backed up slowly and brought the shelf over the tub with the soaked bath mat and dirty towel. Gross.

Even though you had been fast, Seungcheol had been right; your entire torso was soaked with water. You decided that you could do something about it after the leak was dealt with, and so you just ignored it and grabbed your phone again. Your friend was staring at your front with a wrinkle between his brows, mouth open a little, and you rolled your eyes affectionately.

“Cheol.” He looked up at you. “It’s fine. I know you wanted to shield me or whatever, but it’s just a shirt. Now please, help me solve this?”

He nodded wordlessly and turned back to the considerably more spacious cabinet, taking a deep breath. His pout was cute, and you hated your heart for beating faster at the sight of him.

Seungcheol seemed to finally have found what he was looking for, and reached into the cabinet. You altered the angle of the light to make sure he could still see what he was doing despite the shadow of his arm. He grabbed ahold of something and started tugging, his biceps flexing distractingly and his eyebrows screwing up in effort. You were definitely not holding the flashlight in a particularly helpful way anymore, but thankfully your helper didn’t seem to mind.

After a second or two the water slowed before stopping completely, and you cheered out loud. The sound had somehow become grating after only an hour, and the silence was very much welcome. Seungcheol stood up with a wince, holding a hand to his back like an old man. Without thinking, you pulled him into you and gave him a bear hug. You felt tears prick at your eyes again, but held them back. You were just so grateful to have him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You felt him laugh against you before he wrapped an arm gently around you and returned the hug. You pressed your cheek to his chest, just standing there and enjoying the embrace for a while before your brain would inevitably come back online. You felt his chin press against the top of your head for a second before he pulled away suddenly.

“Shit, sorry, I’m all-”

“I said I don’t care, stupid,” you scoffed, but your cheeks were definitely getting red now. How could you have just grabbed him like that? And embraced him? You would have cried if you hadn’t been so tired your head felt like it was full of cotton.

Now that you thought about it, you were extremely tired. It felt like a movie effect, the way your blood pressure just suddenly dropped and you swayed to the side. You were expecting a splash and a very uncomfortable kiss with the tile floor, but instead you found yourself back in Seungcheol’s arms. Oh.

Again with the stupid romance novel shit. The universe was testing you for sure. How were you supposed to resist him, really? You were doomed. Even the thought of your infatuation with him being one-sided could no longer bring you back down to the ground. You were simply fucked.

“When was the last time you ate anything?”

And he cares? Fuck the universe, seriously.

“Uhm, I think it was lunch. I stayed pretty late at work, so-”

“Please tell me you have food.”

“Y-Yeah. It’s uh, it’s on the counter in the kitchen.”

Without hesitation, the man picked you up and carried you into the kitchen. Your heart was going crazy, as were the butterflies in your stomach. You were at a loss for words, just going limp in his arms as he brought you to the dining table and placed you on one of the chairs gingerly. You continued to simply blink at him as he disappeared back into the hallway and came back with his hoodie, pulling it over your head before disappearing into the kitchen.

You wanted to scream and kick your feet, because was this man even real? You had no idea how you had deluded yourself into thinking your feelings toward him were sisterly, because currently, your pussy was screaming for him to come ruin you. And honestly? Both your heart and your head kind of agreed at this moment. You were so screwed.

When he came back with your sushi all plated and a glass for the drink you had bought, you couldn’t help but let the tears come back. You hated that you were so weepy, especially in front of a man you apparently were head over heels for, but it was just who you were. You were sad? You cried. Happy? Cried. Angry? Waterworks. You were helpless to it, and apparently to him, too.

“Good job picking up food on the way back home,” he teased, placing the plate in front of you. Then he poured your drink into your glass for you, promptly ignoring the way you were wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Shut up, I’m an adult,” you pouted back. He snorted loudly and sank into the chair opposite you, looking at you as you picked up your chopsticks and got ready to eat.

“Sometimes, maybe,” he drawled with a smirk. You glared at him, but your teary eyes had little to no effect, and you knew it. “I’m kidding, baby. I know.”

He was still studying your face as you placed the first piece of heaven into your mouth, sighing happily and smiling in delight. It made him smile, too, and you could have died at the sight of his dimples. At this point, you had just accepted the butterflies and their claim to your stomach; doing anything else seemed futile.

“I’m sorry I’m so weepy, Cheol,” you said between bites, pouting a little. He shook his head but you interrupted him before he could speak. “No, really. There was no reason to cry so much, or so many times, but I just- I don’t know. I literally got home right before I called you, and that was, what? At around-”

“9.30.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair and tilting your head back in exhaustion. “9.30. I’m just tired, is what I’m trying to say.” You sat back up and huffed, sending him an embarrassed smile.

“And what I’m trying to say,” Seungcheol said while you readjusted the sleeves of his hoodie, “is to not worry about it. I know you’re an emotional person, but that’s okay.” He paused for a second, smiling when you almost dropped your sushi into the soy sauce. “Being emotional is just a tiny part of who you are. You excel at so much; it’s okay to have a few flaws. We all do, I promise. Besides, being emotional isn’t really a flaw, it’s just part of being human.”

At this, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. First of all, he was way too well-spoken to be a man in his twenties. Second of all, if he was implying that he, of all people, had any flaws, he was dead wrong. You had never seen him fail at anything, had never seen him do something awkward, even as a child. God, you wished he had, because maybe then he could have remained the brother of your best friend instead of becoming so incredibly meaningful to you.

“As if you have any flaws,” you mumbled, sticking another piece of food in your mouth. At least the sushi was good.

“Oh please, sweetheart. I’m twenty-seven and single. There’s plenty wrong with me.”

You shook your head vehemently. “Being single is not a flaw, you dummy. It’s just a relationship status. Who cares.”

“As if that’s all it is,” he laughed back.

“Okay, so the fact that I’m single reflects badly on me? ” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Good to know.”

Your plate was empty, and your chopsticks were resting on the edge of it. The only sound in the apartment was a steady, slow drip from the drying bath mat in the bathroom. You were staring at one another from across the table. Why the tension suddenly was so thick was anyone’s guess. All you knew was that the air in your little kitchen suddenly felt suffocating.

“You’re single?” he asked after a while, and you laughed a little.

“Yeah, Cheol.”

“What about that dude, what was his name… Mingyu?”

“Ew,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “God no. We went on like, one date and then decided it was weird to be anything other than friends. He feels more like a brother than anything.”

“What about Chan?”

“Wh- Chan? That was four years ago,” you laughed, shaking your head. At the curious tilt of his head, you kept going: “He was fine, we just got stressed during college and broke up. It happens.”

Something about this line of questioning felt momentous, for a few reasons. One, he was inquiring about your dating life, a topic the two of you generally never talked about. Two, he remembered the name of potential partners that had been in your life, even ones that hadn’t stuck around for long (or at all, in Mingyu’s case). And three… the way he looked at you was different. There was something in his gaze that you couldn’t place, something you didn’t know if you dared hope for.

“Well he’s obviously an idiot,” Seungcheol said under his breath. You were probably not supposed to hear it, but you did. Your heart stuttered in your chest as he looked at you guiltily, as if he had done something wrong. “I just meant that- uhm.”

A few seconds passed in silence. You barely dared to breathe. You were hoping he would keep going, hoping he would clarify before your thoughts went way too far again. The tension was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Finally, he let out the heaviest sigh you’d ever heard.

“No, you know what, I meant it. He was an idiot for breaking up with you, because anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Time stopped. What do you say after that? You wanted to scream with joy and jump his bones, of course, but you couldn’t exactly do that. What if he didn’t mean it like that? If he didn’t feel the way you hoped he was implying? Because he, or more specifically his sister, was such a huge part of your life, and awkwardness was just not an option.

“Are-” you started, but blinked and started over. “Are you… serious?”

“Of course I am, Y/N.” He sounded almost exasperated. He ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, making it fall over his forehead in the most attractive way you had ever seen. Fucking. Unfair. “I’m not- I mean. I get it if you don’t feel the same or anything, but-”

“Feel what, exactly?” When he stared at you in confusion, you elaborated. “Please be clear with me, Cheol. I don’t want to keep guessing.”

It had come out as a whisper, but he had heard you. His expression softened, and the wrinkle between his brows disappeared. His mouth was slightly open as he seemingly looked for the right words. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you almost felt it in your throat.

“Baby,” he started, and it made your breath hitch. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as dense as you are.”

“Hey!”

“No, seriously,” he kept going, not a single trace of evidence that he was joking, “do you actually mean to tell me you don’t know how I feel about you?”

“Look, I don’t-”

“I guess you don’t, and in that case, that’s my bad.” He got up from his chair and rounded the table, crouching next to your chair and grabbing your hand. “I am so ridiculously into you, it’s not even funny. Sua literally won’t stop teasing me about it, neither will my parents or my friends. No matter how hard I try I can’t stop thinking about you, but I’m honestly not sure I would want to even if I could. You mean so much to me, Y/N, and I really don’t want to be overbearing but I- fuck, I can’t-” he shuts his eyes in an attempt to collect himself, “I love you, baby, and if you don’t feel the same that’s fine, but I at least need you to know that I’m on my goddamn knees for you.”

Your glass, still containing some of your soda, toppled over from the force with which you left your chair. The way you threw yourself at Seungcheol forced him back, but you took the opportunity and placed yourself in his lap as you kissed him deeply. It took him half a second to respond, but then he was kissing you so ardently that you never wanted him to stop.

His arm wrapped around you from behind and pressed you to his chest. You could not give less of a shit that he was sprawled on your kitchen floor, or that you were down there with him, because you were kissing him. You were kissing the man that you most definitely had been in love with since you were a teenager, and fuck did it feel good.

“I, uh, take it you feel the same, then?” he asked after having reluctantly pulled away. You pressed your forehead to his.

“I bet that I have loved you longer.” You were breathing heavily, already missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

“Absolutely not,” he replied before kissing you again.

This time, you couldn’t hold back. You nibbled gently on his lower lip before soothing it over with your tongue. Seungcheol groaned deep in his chest and brought his left hand into your hair, pressing you even closer to him. He opened his mouth, letting your tongue tangle with his, and you felt the way he became jelly underneath you. You were not faring much better, your panties hot and sticky and your hands shaking. Despite this, you snaked one hand into his hair and tugged on it; his hips jumped in response, the action seemingly completely involuntary. You didn’t think you’d ever experienced anything hotter.

“Please, baby,” he heaved as you trailed your lips down his neck, “I can’t take it.”

You rolled your hips against his slowly, and that seemed to be his breaking point. He rolled you underneath him before standing up and taking you with him, carrying you into your bedroom while you followed the shape of his jaw up to his ear with your mouth. A shudder streaked through him as you sucked on the spot behind his left ear, his arms tightening around you and a hoarse moan leaving him.

You barely noticed him closing your bedroom door, only brought back to reality by the sensation of falling when he dropped you on your bed. You whined at the loss of contact, which made him smile; he loved the way you craved him, because honestly, he felt the exact same way about you. So he was quick to cover your body with his, his lips back on yours with a shuddered sigh from the both of you.

He felt so big above you, and yet you felt so safe. Not once had he done anything to hurt you. In fact, he had always been the one to take care of you and prevent you from being hurt. (Along with Sua, but you didn’t really want to think about her at that moment). His weight on top of you made you shudder in delight, your hands starting to wander. You played with the hem of his white t-shirt, still damp from the earlier bathroom catastrophe, but you didn’t care at all. All you wanted was to feel his skin against yours.

He was breathing as if he had run a marathon when he pulled away from your lips. He stared into your eyes, looking for any sign of reluctance, but not finding any.

“Are you sure, darling?” he asked, and your heart swelled about three sizes.

“I’m so sure, Cheol. Please, please, I need you.” You were properly whining now, but you were far past caring.

“Okay baby, okay,” he breathed, pulling away to get his shirt up and over his head. He was about to lay back over you, but froze and let his eyes wander your body. He shut his eyes, his forehead wrinkling once again as he took a few deep breaths. “You in my hoodie and underneath me, I can’t- Y/N, baby, I need a second, I’m so-”

You giggled a little before grabbing the hem of said hoodie, pulling it up and over your head. Apparently, that didn’t help, as Seungcheol’s grip on the sheets tightened and he cursed under his breath.

“I thought this would be better,” you said in confusion, blinking up at him.

“I’m actually going to die,” he gritted out, sounding as if he was genuinely in pain. “I don’t think you realize what seeing you in a wet t-shirt did to me earlier, sweetheart. What it’s doing to me now is just torture.” You flushed at his words, having forgotten that little detail. “Wait. Is that my shirt?” You glanced down and flushed even more when you realized it must be. “Fuck, gonna be the death of me, gonna fucking-”

He cut himself off by pressing his lips against yours again. Your head immediately got fuzzy again, the only thought you could formulate being that of his dick inside of you. When he ground his hips against yours and you felt the outline of it, you let out the most sinful moan Seungcheol has ever heard, which caused his hips to keep grinding into you without his brain’s permission. You disconnected your lips from his for just long enough to pull your wet shirt off your alarmingly hot body, and the man on top of you didn’t even have the strength to look at you without a shirt. He might actually have came in his pants if he did.

You didn’t even mind, because you finally had his skin pressed against yours. The heat of him poured over you, driving you absolutely insane and making you whimper against his lips. If he didn’t do something in the next minute, you would just have to take care of yourself.

“Cheol-”

“Please say it again,” he begged, his lips trailing down your neck toward your breasts.

“Cheol,” you sighed, and he moaned against your skin, his dick grinding perfectly against your clit even through four layers of fabric. You barely recognized your own sounds even as you felt them leave your lips, so high on his proximity you couldn’t have produced a thought if you tried.

When you repeated his name one more time he finally closed his lips around your right nipple, his deft fingers playing with the other and his cock still pressing deliciously against your pussy. Your hips lifted to grind back on him, and he actually whined for you.

“Seungcheol,” you whined, and his only response was a harsh thrust of his hips and another whine. “Please, take my shorts off, I need you to fuck me so bad.”

He let go of your nipple, chuckling as he looked into your eyes and dragged his hands down to rest on your hips. “Want these off?” he asked, flicking the elastic of your bike shorts against your skin. You nodded frantically, pressing your hips up into his again. He looked like he wanted to protest, so you decided to do the only logical thing and beg for his cock.

“Cheol, please please please, take my shorts off? I need it, please,” you begged, your eyes big and innocent as you stared into his. “I want your cock, baby, want it inside me, please.”

Honestly, it was no surprise that his confident facade crumbled along with his will to tease you any longer. If he was telling the truth, and you had no reason not to believe him, he had been in love with you for a long time. You had played dirty by begging him for his cock when he had already been on the verge of losing his mind - especially with those big, innocent eyes of yours. How was he supposed to say no to you?

“Evil, evil woman, fuck,” he muttered to himself as he all but tore the shorts down your legs along with your panties.

The sight of you, his absolute dream, naked beneath him made him believe in God for two whole seconds, for who could have accomplished something like you but an almighty deity? He must have shaped you with his own two hands, he thought, before coming back to his senses and thinking that no, you were a creation of your own. No one but you could have accomplished something like you.

With very little preamble, Seungcheol lowered himself between your thighs, kissing up the inside of each thigh as he went. He looked up and met your gaze, and you had never seen a more erotic sight. Sure, other people had gone down on you before, but none of them had been Seungcheol; none of them had been the one that counted. His big brown eyes met yours, and you swore you saw raw hunger in them.

“May I, baby? Please?”

“You- You’re begging to eat me out?” you asked, in complete and utter shock. You had figured this was somewhat of a chore to him, something that needed to be done both to woo you and to prep you for his cock. One look at his glazed eyes had you changing your mind.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. His voice was hoarse and his eyes desperate, that simple look giving you enough material for many fantasies in the future. “Please, let me eat you out?”

What were you supposed to do, say no? Absolutely not. You simply nodded at him, and he fucking dove for it. His tongue explored your folds gently but firmly, and as soon as the flavor of you met his taste buds, he was in heaven. His hips ground into the mattress of their own volition as he was lapping at you, his tongue mapping you out and figuring out what brought you the most pleasure.

Seungcheol’s eyes were shut in pleasure, your juices covering his chin all the way up to his nose, but he couldn’t think of anything better. He wanted to drown in you, on his stomach between your legs, or - if he was allowed to dream - underneath you while you were grinding all over his face, taking all the pleasure you could from him.

You weren’t exactly complaining, either. His tongue felt divine, moving to gently circle your clit before he sucked it into his mouth. When your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging in pleasure, your lover let out a grunt that sent vibrations traveling through your entire body.

“F-Fingers, Cheol, please-”

He just grunted an affirmative and pressed his middle finger into you slowly. The warmth surrounding his finger drove him insane, making his hips press harder against the mattress and his eyes squeeze tighter. Having something to clench down on brought your pleasure to even greater heights, and you started to feel the familiar tightening signaling your release. You had felt the outline of his dick earlier, and you knew you would need another finger to make him fit.

“Another, I need you to fit later, baby.”

Your voice came out shaky, but the man consuming your pussy like it was the best meal he’d ever had didn’t seem to mind. He simply let his ring finger join his other inside you, grunting when he felt how tight you were around him. The tightening in your lower belly grew more and more intense by the second, the filthy noises of Seungcheol devouring you bringing you that much closer to the edge. You let out a mewl that sounded like it came straight from a porno, and felt his grip tighten on your thigh.

“I’m so close, baby, so close, please-”

“Come for me,” he growled hoarsely before resuming his delicious torture of your clit.

You followed his request a second later, moaning loudly and squirming around on the bed. His free hand pressed down over your hips to keep you still as he coaxed you through it, and he didn’t stop until the overstimulation almost hurt.

His fingers left your pussy gently, absolutely covered in your slick. You blushed as he put them in his mouth, moaning at the flavor as if you were the best thing he’d ever tasted. And to him, you were. He would remember the flavor of you until the day he died.

Your chest was rising and falling as you gulped down air. The way Seungcheol couldn’t help but grind into the mattress again made you want to cry, because how could he be so perfect? And how could he want you, of all people?

When he kissed you again, you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and you loved it. It was a reminder of just how voraciously he had just eaten you out, and you took the opportunity to reach down and cup him over his underwear. He hissed and pulled his hips back, panting already.

“I- you can’t.”

“But, baby I just want to return the favor-”

“My love, if you touch me again I can’t guarantee that I will have faculties to be inside you.”

His words made you laugh, both because of how ridiculous his phrasing was, but also because of the effect you seemed to have on him. Had he really been driven so far by making out with you and making you cum? It seemed like it.

“I love you so much,” you ended up breathing out. He gazed into your eyes so adoringly you felt like time stopped again.

“I love you more, Y/N.”

His response prompted you to kiss him, and he deflated on top of you. As he sunk further into your embrace, his still-covered dick brushed against your wet core, and the whine he let out was almost pathetic.

“I hate to ruin the moment, but please, let me be inside you now. I think I’ll die if I can’t,” he confessed. You laughed out loud again before nodding, kissing and sucking a trail down his neck while he removed his boxers. “Condom?”

“I don’t have any, but I have an IUD and I’m clean.” You could practically see Seungcheol’s brain grind to a halt. “But, I mean, if you don’t want to we can just wai-”

“No!” he almost yelled, his entire face flushing pink. “No, I’m clean too, and I- fuck, I would love to be inside you without a condom.”

You nodded, and he took a deep breath. The thought of having him inside you without a barrier excited you to no end, and it seemed he felt the same. You kissed him passionately again while he lined himself up with your core, and moaned through a sigh as he pushed into you. He didn’t have a monster cock or anything, but it was still bigger than what you were used to taking.

As he bottomed out, he let out a punched out sigh. You could feel him shaking on top of you, and did your best not to move or clench down on him. Unfortunately, your pussy didn’t exactly obey you and clenched down anyway. It made Seungcheol’s breath hitch, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight so as not to look at you while he was trying not to cum.

“I swear,” he wheezed, “you are going to kill me.”

His words made you chuckle, which in turn made him groan and bury his face in the crook of your neck. You were ready for him to move, and told him as much, but he still needed a second. You could feel tears sting the corners of your eyes, as per usual feeling weepy as soon as you felt a big wave of emotion. To distract yourself, you locked your lips with his and kissed him with all the passion you had left to give.

As your tongue tangled with his he groaned low in his throat, and his hips thrust into you of their own accord. Once he had started, he couldn’t stop, and you didn’t want him to. He started out fairly slow, taking his time to make sure you weren’t hurting at all. Then you accidentally clenched down on him, and he could no longer hold back.

He started pounding into you, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you and making you dizzy. You moaned out every time the tip of him hit the spongy spot inside you, and you couldn’t help the way you were clenching around him. You were hurtling toward your end so fast it was almost alarming. He filled you up so perfectly, so perfectly thick and long, it was as if you were made for one another.

Seungcheol was mumbling an endless stream of praise, grunting every time your cunt squeezed him a bit tighter. He felt like he was in heaven, your slick walls molded around him in a way that made him mourn the time spent doing anything other than this. He wanted to keep you like this, impaled on his cock and making you feel as good as you ever had.

Sadly, he was so wound up he wouldn’t be able to last as long as he usually did. While he didn’t blow immediately as he had been worried he would, he started feeling his balls drawing up around five minutes in. The way your nails were scratching down his back wasn’t helping his situation.

In an effort to save himself from cumming before you, he lowered a hand to circle the nub of your clit gently. The extra stimulation was exactly what you needed to build the rest of the way to the edge, and you tangled your hands in his hair as your thighs shook.

“Please, Cheol, baby, I’m gonna-”

“Oh thank God, please cum around me, baby, wanna feel it,” he begged, and it did the trick.

Your orgasm was spectacular, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as you exploded around him. You were moaning his name, clawing at his back and arching your back to the high heavens. Your toes actually curled. It was the orgasm of orgasms.

Seeing you like that, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he brought you pleasure was enough for Seungcheol to follow you over the edge. He came so hard he saw nothing but white, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself into you. His face was pressed into your neck, but his moans could not be concealed even if he tried.

You both lay there, panting and soaked in sweat, for a pretty long time before he finally pulled out and rolled off of you. He sprawled on his back and stayed like that, his eyes shut in complete and utter bliss and his heart beating out of his chest. Your hair was an absolute bird’s nest around you, and there were tear tracks running down your cheeks and into your hairline.

You clumsily flopped over to rest against his side, and he pulled you in until your head was resting right over his heart. You slung your bare leg over his waist, and he groaned in what sounded like agony.

“You can’t do this to me,” he whined, and you giggled lightly at him.

“I just put my leg on you, baby,” you said, looking up at him innocently, and he had to shut his eyes for a second and remind himself he wasn’t dreaming. You, yourself weren’t entirely convinced all this wasn’t a dream; and if it was, you never wanted to wake up.

“Okay, well you’ve just seen what seeing you in a hoodie and bike shorts does to me, so,” he reminded you, and you bit back a grin. It was good to know you could tease him easily.

You laid in silence for a while, just listening to his heart beating against his ribcage. Every once in a while it would slow down, and then he would look down at you and it would speed back up. Your heart seemed to match the pace of his, and you found that you loved it that way.

“So, “ Seungcheol started, and you pulled yourself up on your elbow to look at him as he talked. “That… just happened.” You snorted into a laugh, and he joined you, flicking your forehead gently. “I uh, I’m going to a work thing on Friday. I usually don’t bring a date because, well, because I’m usually single, but maybe, this time, I could bring you?”

You blinked at him slowly, admiring him in the light from your bedside lamp. He was pretty no matter what, but with his cheeks glowing and his eyes glittering, he was beyond what was natural, in your opinion. You stroked a bit of his hair behind his ear and hummed.

“I mean, are you not single anymore?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Uhhhh-” he was interrupted by your laughter, and he pouted at you jokingly. “Don’t do that! I get scared I fucked up,” he said and rolled over to wrap his arms around you.

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, “I just don’t know either.” You paused. “Hey Cheol?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

At your words, his entire face lit up. He started giggling and buried his face in your hair, trying to hide from view. Even still, you knew he would be blushing. His arms squeezed tighter around you as he pulled you even closer, and you didn’t even mind that you couldn’t breathe.

“I was going to ask,” he ended up whining once brain function had returned to him. “Can I?”

“I mean, sure?” you answered, trying your hardest not to just lean in and kiss away his pout. Your willpower sucked, so you did it anyway.

“Great! Hey, Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?”

You bit your lip to hold in your laughter, but all it did was summon your boyfriend’s gaze to your mouth. You released it and broke out into a huge grin, nodding.

“I would love nothing more.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Sua said thoughtfully, “you finally put him out of his misery?”

It was a week later, and you were sitting on your balcony with Sua and drinking coffee. The bathroom floor was now dry, and while the stupid bath mat had been unsalvageable, everything else had been fine. The apartment management had gotten the leak fixed after five days, proving that calling Seungcheol had been the right choice for more reasons than one.

Even thinking about him, you couldn’t help but smile. Your boyfriend. The one who had brought you to a work function as your first date, and the one who had gotten jealous because you had greeted a coworker of his when he was getting you a drink. The one that had helped you save your apartment from water damage. The one you had loved for the past decade.

“Okay but how could I have put him through misery if I didn’t know he liked me, hm?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at your friend. She had her eyes closed, face turned toward the sun like an old lady.

“You cannot be serious,” she said incredulously, turning toward you and opening her eyes wide to show her shock. “You’re telling me you didn’t know Cheol was in love with you? He has been so down bad for you since we were like fourteen, man. He bought you flowers for your graduation. He reminded you to take your allergy pills before going to a dog café.” You flushed a little at your own blindness, but Sua just sighed and turned back toward the sun, her eyes closed again. “At least it will be easy to kill him if he hurts you.”

a/n: if you liked this, please don't forget to like and reblog! <3

masterlist

[super-paper]

A bit of a vent, if that's okay; I think one of the most frustrating things regarding this chapter has been the overall behavior from the fandom, and this sort of mandatory love for anything from the manga. I get it, when we love something we can't bear other people talking bad about it (I'm the same way with some things), but it's annoying how a lot of us haven't been allowed to criticize or show any anger/disappointment about the chapter. It's upsetting, especially as an Izuku stan, to see other accounts (famous accounts too) claim that if we're disappointed with Izuku then we hate his character. That we're too stupid and cynical to think Izuku did anything wrong at all and wasn't allowed to defend himself. That we can't read if we think Izuku and Bakugo killed Kurogiri, or that Izuku wasn't able to save Shigaraki because after all he did free him from his abuser and made him recognize that he was in fact a crying child. And to each their own I suppose; but putting interpretations of arcs and narratives aside, this overall superiority of "there's nothing wrong with this chapter, you just don't get it so shut up" and the undermining of how a lot of fans feel is seriously infuriating. (Maybe this is how people felt when I'd argue that Armored Might wasn't character assassination lol). I'm just tired of getting called every name in the book for having my own criticisms, and getting accused of hating Izuku, or seeing Shigaraki stans undermined as if they weren't aloud to feel sad about it. Because it's exactly why people loved those characters and arcs so much that they feel such a strong reaction to 423. I'm upset with the weird ooc behavior and lack of introspection from Izuku because I love his character so much. And I'm upset with this chapter because I love this manga and wanna see a well written conclusion for the characters and story.

Nah, I definitely feel the same. So many fans have been taking the words of upset Tenko and Izuku fans out of context (or even outright twisting their words around) and using it as an excuse to be bullies. I'm sorry if folks have been harassing you.

At any rate, I think you have every right to criticize the chapter. Like, I'm very much a silver-lining-look-on-the-bright-side type of guy-- and even I'm having trouble finding anything to like about it lmao 😭. Basically, I liked AFO's conclusion... on the surface, at least. But then my mind goes right back to thinking about Tenko and how AFO's conclusion/treatment is yet another thing that ultimately contributed to his death, and I get mad all over again lmao. Like, an ending where Tenko gets turned into a "cautionary tale" that "everyone learns from" is pretty much the last thing I wanted for his character. It's basically ~*~building a better society~*~ on top of his corpse. And what exactly is his life/death cautioning against exactly? Grooming?? Stranger danger??? Being kidnapped by literally the worst guy alive when you're five years old and getting brainwashed into believing you were born evil???? LARPing????? Like.... it just feels like all of Tenko's suffering was ultimately just used as a stepping stone in order to finally rid the world of AFO-- and like, rationally, I know this isn't the case and I'm oversimplifying things, but like.. the way the rain stops and the sun starts shining as Tenko evaporates... uuuuoohhhgh---

*cough* Anyway! I'm also a staunch Iron Might defender, but like. In that particular case it was very obvious to me why Iron Might was necessary + a fitting end to Toshinori's arc. In Izuku's case, I simply cannot see how chapters 420-423 ultimately do right by his character. Since chapter 1, Izuku becoming "a great hero"/"more heroic than anyone else" was always tied to his drive to save when no one else is able (or willing) to. So these chapters being framed as the "climax/finale' of his character arc-- these chapters where he doesn't stop to think about saving Tenko at all and just focuses on wiping AFO out-- betray the very core of his character while also betraying the very premise of the series. Like. This is bad. This is bad bad and I sincerely, honestly want to believe Hori has something up his sleeve that'll somehow fix things. 😭But even if it is a fake out, and even if Hori reveals Izuku had some sort of plan all along... I don't think it'll undo the damage to the readers' trust atp, sadly.

(Like...! So many of Izuku's defining moments involve him standing up to abusers on behalf of their victims. The moments that define him as a hero have him encouraging those victims to fight back and reclaim agency over their bodies/powers-- but even though Tenko ultimately did fight back, it feels disingenuous to give Izuku any sort of actual credit in this situation bc, again, Izuku wasn't thinking of Tenko at all while he was beating Tenko's body AFO into dust lmao. Like I've been saying, so much of 423 is just indefensibly bad writing and Izuku and Tenko's characters deserved better than this).

[limetimo]

Regulus' bedroom

and my thoughts on it

Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black

An angsty teenager seeking to estabilish boundaries. Since he never bothered to take it down after Sirius left it was likely aimed at Walburga and Orion and his cousins just as much. I don't think anyone respected the sign ever.

They moved over the threshold together, gazing around. Regulus's bedroom was slightly smaller than Sirius's, though it had the same sense of former grandeur. Whereas Sirius had sought to advertise his diffidence from the rest of the family, Regulus had striven to emphasize the opposite. The Slytherin colors of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bed, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto, TOUJOURS PUR. Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. Hermione crossed the room to examine them.

The Slytherin colours decor: I think it's more Hogwarts house pride rather than 'advertising' he belonged with the Blacks. The Black family crest, either version, has no green or silver on it.

The crest and the motto, I consider it to be Regulus' way of reassuring his parents of his loyalty to them and the family after Sirius run away, perhaps even a reminder to himself.

What really strikes me as interesting is the contrast between "painstakingly" and "ragged". painstaking = done with or employing great care and thoroughness ragged = (of cloth or clothes) old and torn / having an irregular or uneven surface, edge, or outline / lacking finish, smoothness, or uniformity I may be reading this wrong, but the 'ragged collage' evokes the image of a thing hastily put together rather than a meticulously created art piece that grew over the span of several years. If it was a shrine to Voldy I'd imagine some of the articles would be on colourful paper and there'd be decorative tape and stickers and stuff. Make it pretty, you know? TLDR I think the newspaper collage was only made after Regulus started seriously re-thinking his involvement with Death Eaters and was looking for "What he says vs what he does" evidence and "if i fuck this up will he kill me or my entire family as well?"

Harry, meanwhile, had noticed another photograph: a Hogwarts Quidditch team was smiling and waving out of the frame. He moved closer and saw the snakes emblazoned on their chests: Slytherins. Regulus was instantly recognizable as the boy sitting in the middle of the front row: He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look of his brother, though he was smaller, slighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been.

I love loner Regulus as much as anyone but I think he must've been friends at least with his Quidditch teammates or he wouldn't have put the photograph on his wall. Or he wouldn't be smiling on it.

The Slytherin Quidditch team had their own personalised merchandise thank you and goodbye I do not accept criticism on this one

I already said this once: we don't know how old Regulus is in that photo. Harry's default Young Sirius is from Snape's Worst Memory AKA 16, perhaps almost 17 years old, and photo!Regulus could easily be younger than that. I'm not saying he couldn't be rather less handsome than Sirius had been at the same age. But I AM saying that and teenagers change basically from month to month and Reg just might still be a baby in that pic.

Yet again, somebody had searched before them. The drawers' contents had been turned over recently, the dust disturbed, but there was nothing of value there: old quills, out-of-date textbooks that bore evidence of being roughly handled, a recently smashed ink bottle, its sticky residue covering the contents of the drawer.

I know the room was ransacked by Mundungus but you don't get "roughly handled" textbooks from a five minutes search. Therefore 1) Regulus wasn't mindful of his school books, the goth little jock 2) Regulus inherited at least some of them from Sirius or even his cousins. The syllabus hardly ever changes for most subjects and why would you buy new books if you already have them. My 7 years younger brother used the same math and biology books we got for my older sister even though we could easily afford new textbooks.

and that's about it I'd appreciate your thoughts on the "ragged" bit

[slightlysugawara]

It was pouring outside when Miya Osamu turned up at your doorstep. Completely drenched.

"Come in," you gesture at him to come in, intently avoiding his gaze.

He timidly looks at you and then at his completely drenched self. His eyes silently asking if you were okay with him walking in like this- you were that much of a neat freak after all.

You scoff in reply. 

"Yeah, like this. I wouldn't mind my mattress getting ruined by the man who, apparently, ruined my whole life you know."

Osamu stops in his tracks.

"I'm better off here," he blurts out, his tone a horrible mix of guilt and shock.

Breakups are hard. You get so close to someone, and in just a mere blink of an eye, they're gone forever.

You and Osamu had dated for four years. You had seen him at his worst, and he had seen you in yours. Four years of laughter, sacrifice and it ended just like it was nothing but a fever dream.

Osamu too, couldn't believe that fact that all it took was a nasty fight about your seemingly "growing insecurities and jealousy" (which he was too wrong about) to send the picture perfect relationship crumbling into pieces.

It had briefly been a month since you both called it quits. And unsurprisingly, none of you had gotten over the break up. He regretted his words, you regretted yours. Osamu didn’t know how many 11:11 wishes he'd spent hoping that when he awoke that next morning, he'd wake up holding you close. He'd lost count of the times he'd been haunted by the memories he wanted to forget so bad- from ones of him leaving you behind without a second thought, the way your lips quivered when he'd yelled at you so suddenly, how you too, had raised your voice yhe next second, retaliating that you didn't need a dick like hime either- and the horrific click of the door when it closed behind him-- drowning your hysterical sobbing.

You had sent Osamu one text after you'd broken up, which was saying that he needed to pick his stuff up from the apartment before they ended up as your Goodwill donations.

You roll your eyes and disappear for a moment. It takes you a brief two minutes to reappear again, with a large cardboard box in your hand. Huffing, you push the box at your ex.

Osamu walks over to the porch swing, sitting down to make sure everything was in the box.

"You covered everything in glitter?" He was genuinely surprised as he shuffled through.

"Yeah so that you suffer a ton while trying to take them out."

"You're even giving the charm back?" 

You stop.

"Well you obviously don't want anything to do with an overly sensitive person like me. I don't need reminders of someone like that."

"Y/n no can't just give it back. You used to love it so much-"

"Well I loved you too. And I had to give that up," Your voice cracks a little, tears now threatening to fall.

Miya Osamu finally finds the courage to push past the door and set his foot inside your once shared apartment. From the corner of your blurred vision, you catch your neighbour staring at you through the window. 

"Get in Osamu. Properly," saying that, you move aside. The said male flinches, finally noticing how the once loving nickname "Samu" had been replaced by a cold, distant Osamu. He hums in response anyway, taking notice of the nosy lady as well.

He closes the door with a slight click and turns back to find you gone again. But to his relief, you come back almost immediately and throw a dry towel at him. He doesn’t get to say “Thank you” as you swiftly walk away from the spot.

"Leave those wet shoes there," if it were just another one of your good old days at home, Osamu would've surely laughed at your obsession with cleanliness.

"Sure."

You were already a sobbing mess when the ravenette found you in the kitchen, your hair curtaining your face and tears streaming down like the rain outside. Osamu leaned against the counter right beside where you stood. It took almost all of his courage to pull your smaller frame closer to his much larger one and run his fingers through your disheveled locks.

“Is there anything...anything at all Miya? That could possibly make you stay?” You choke out between the sobs. Osamu stops.

The male swallows the lump in his throat. And you feel his embrace around you tightening. 

“You could tell me that you still love-” You slowly look up to meet his eyes.

“I still love you,” and don’t let him finish his sentence.

None of you knew if it was some sort of weird magic of being in love or whatever the heck Atsumu rambled about or just your yearning for each other’s company or a thousand pent up feelings or regrets, but things just seemed to fall into place at an instant. You felt Osamu's lips meeting yours the moment you mouthed the last syllable of your answer. The kiss was almost rough, it caught you both off guard. But it still said all the “I miss you”, “I still love you” and “I am sorry” you both couldn’t muster up the courage to say in the past month. At once. Without any words being spoken.

Osamu is the one to pull away first. You intertwine your fingers together, laying your head on his chest. For once you didn’t care about getting all drenched and him turning your perfectly clean kitchen into a pool of rainwater. 

“Listen... Y/N I know it was wrong of me to say all those things. I was just so blinded by my own pride that I just….I’m sorry. And I need you to be with me. Please,” he speaks breathlessly, his voice hoarse from the kiss.

“I want you to be mine again.”

You smile, pressing your lips against his in the most loving kiss you had ever shared. And you both finally realise, that maybe, just maybe- you’ll be okay.

[jishyucks]

Me and You Against the World ‣ hjs

‣ genre: royalty!au, arranged marriage, female reader, pls read an!

‣ wc: 4.7k

‣ summary: "I don't understand why they judge when they don't even know you…"; in which you don't let the words of others get in the way of your relationship with Jisung

‣ warnings?: Itzy is mean in this (but it doesn't reflect how they are irl!), prejudice due to less wealth, lots of thinking

‣ an: These events are what leads to this fic but in a different 'era.' Basically, I decided to just write the ending of this fic in a rich kid au setting instead of a royal au setting and just post that,,, but since I already wrote a lot of it, I decided to post it! It can be read separately but this doesn't have a proper ending.

i.

You can vividly remember the reactions of all the other princesses when they found out you were arranged to marry none other than Prince Han Jisung. They snickered and laughed. They blatantly shared pitiful glances, taking turns to pat your shoulder as if it could bring you a sense of comfort.

Of course, at the growing age of fourteen, you had no idea why they had been acting as so. From images and stories you received of the Prince, he seemed like someone who would be easy to get along with. So why the judgmental looks?

"They're the poorest of all the kingdoms, Y/N," Yeji pointed out, "Your kingdom is one of the richest, of course, after mine. Don't you think that's rather odd?" She traced the laces of her gloves and scoffed discourteously.

You bring the teacup up to your mouth, eyeing your friend curiously, "What do you mean by that?" You gulped, afraid that the image of your family name would be stained. It was not your choice, however, nor your parents'. You had been drawn to be last when choosing a suitor, and naturally, from the apparent reputation and wealth of the Han family, their son was the last left to be selected.

Yeji scoffed, the other princesses laughing at how naive you've been acting, "Obviously, their family's going to leech off of your family. I think your parents should rethink their decision of choosing Han Jisung as your future husband."

Shaking your head, you frowned at the meaningless words that your friend had been spitting out, "I don't think that's needed… Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Help each other out? How bad can Han Jisung be?”

Lia finally speaks up, "I heard that he rolls around the mud with their pigs."

"And… he doesn't even take a bath after doing so," Yuna budges in. She stirred the cooling tea with a miniature spoon, a smirk rising up to her lips, "Imagine how his bed smells. Rancid."

"I hear he's poor-mannered, too… that he lacks the respect a prince should need towards others," Ryujin says stiffly, "Just generally not fit to be a king. I feel bad for you, Y/N."

There was a brief silence between the six of you, the sound of Yuna's spoon tapping the sides of the cup occupying that silence. Though you felt yourself frown at the possibility that you were to be married to an ill-mannered prince, you quickly shook those thoughts out and tried your best to ignore them. You were taught never to be driven towards believing rumours or gossip in this case. Who were they to judge someone they never met? Except for Yeji, who met him through her brother.

"I ask you all not to pity me in any sort," you finally say, "Not until I've met him. Besides… those are just rumours. He could be much better than you hear." Satisfied with how you handled the situation, you straightened your back and took a long sip of your tea, mentally preparing yourself for your first meeting with the Prince.

—

Upon arriving at the valley region, the kingdom owned by the Han's, you immediately understand why your parents settled with their son. Though you were last to choose your suitor, your parents and his parents seemed to be closely acquainted, smiles on their faces and direct contact as they greeted each other. You stood back, watching the exchange begin and end, rather amused at how happy both sets of parents looked.

"I'm so happy you all arrived safely," the Queen of the valley region clasped her hands. The King nodded and let his wife continue, "And I'm so glad that our children are to be married by chance… All the other young princesses chose, while you–" She looked over your mother's shoulder and at you, "You and my precious son fell into this arrangement by fate's doing! The world wanted this."

Your mother responded by smiling fondly, "I never viewed the situation like that!" They begin to move up the stairs towards the front entryway, the knights moving along the four majesties. You followed closely behind, listening in on the conversation as you let your eyes wander around. "My mother had been upset that Y/N fell last, telling me I would not be able to choose the best," your mother began, "But I don't see any problem with that."

Compared to other castles you've visited, you could definitely see how much wealth the Hans did have. It was still very much a beautiful castle. It was well-kept and unique in build. Something drew you to it. But you couldn't exactly point out what part of it did.

"I understand your mother's perspective," the King chuckled, "No one likes being last. However, I believe that in such matter, no one is stuck with the 'worst.'"

At this point, everyone had entered the castle, and this was when you could see that the Hans were, in fact, less wealthy than the other royal families. Much of the furniture and interior decorations were quite old, almost antique, but again, it was a feature of the castle that drew you in. The outside of the castle looked much larger than the interior.

"Ah! I almost forgot," the Queen turned to look at your family, "My son is out and about exploring. We instructed him to come in time to greet you guys at the entrance but boys his age never listen." At the mention of Jisung, you almost forgot about him, causing your curiosity to rise.

"Miss Kim?"

A lady appeared from another room, hurriedly approaching the Queen with a bow, "Yes, your majesty?"

"Please escort Princess Y/N to Prince Jisung," she instructed gently, "It will be nice for them to get acquainted while we continue with our conversation about this arrangement."

Miss Kim nodded and waved you over with a motherly smile, "Let us go, Princess." You quickly bid your parents goodbye before trailing behind Miss Kim. Though her legs were short, she moved with ease, almost flying down the corridor with a constant speed. She didn't look back to see if you had still been following her as your footsteps helped her indicate your presence.

"I suspect the Prince is somewhere by the garden," she mutters urgently, "Or by the river."

"River?" you questioned. The idea of a river caused you to smile. Your family ruled the mountain region, meaning there were not many rivers to visit. A river would be a nice change in scenery. Miss Kim finally leads you out of the back of the castle, the sight of flowers taking over your line of sight.

"Prince Jisung?" she called out, "Prince Jisung?" It was rather enjoyable seeing Miss Kim run around frantically in search of the Prince. Your mind wanders back to the conversation you had with other princesses, how the Prince is ill-mannered, one who was not fit to be a king. With his absence in greeting you and your family, you're afraid that the other princesses were actually correct with this information.

"I'm over here, Miss Kim!" a voice called out, "By the pond!"

Once again, Miss Kim waved for you to follow you. You hiked up your dress and tried your best to keep up with her speed, though she still kept the same pace she previously had. She walked straight down the stone path, turning right onto another pathway, and then left, finally revealing a beautifully decorated pond.

"Ah, there you are, my prince!" Miss Kim had been blocking your view of the third presence, marching towards the pond. You let her move ahead, allowing her to approach the Prince on her own, "The Y/L/Ns are here… your mother strictly told you that you should be there to greet them."

Still a voice with no face, you hear him reply, "I'm sorry, I lost track of time… I'm feeding the fish!" There was a moment of silence as the Prince went to stand up, finally revealing the frame of his body to you. He turns to face your direction. His head was kept down as he dusted off the dirt from his pants.

"Do I have time to chan–" The Prince finally noticed you standing yards away from him and Miss Kim, causing him to halt abruptly in his words, "–ge?"

"Your parents have ordered for you two to get acquainted," Miss Kim stated, "I assume I will be the one to call you both shortly for dinner." At this, she turns to hurry back, leaving you and the Prince alone.

He bows stiffly, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jisung."

He bowed… that's a good indication of manners, right? You curtsy, "I'm Y/N."

"I know who you are," he says happily, beginning to walk back towards the main path. You follow, "You know they call you the 'Snow Princess' here? Which I don't understand because the mountains aren't always filled with snow." He looks back to see if you followed him, "Do you mind if we drop our titles with each other? We are at the same standing."

"I don't mind," you replied. You're taken aback at his apparent tendency to talk, "We are arranged to marry in a few years…."

"Well, Y/N," he begins, a bright smile on his face, "How should we begin?"

You watch as he advances forward, hands swinging carelessly, something you were taught never to do. As a princess, you were taught to cross your hands in front of you to give you a poised appearance. Jisung had a hop in his step, his posture could be straighter, and his hair was unkempt. You could already say that Yeji's brother, Hyunjin, was probably the opposite of Jisung. He kept himself tidy, he came on time to schedules and never interrupted when another was speaking. This is perhaps what Ryujin meant when she said Jisung was not fit for a king.

"How do you like to spend your time?" You questioned. You figured that this was a way to start a conversation, hoping that it would blossom into another.

Jisung hummed in thought, "If I'm not doing my studies or sleeping, I tend to spend my time here… just deep in thought." He raised his arms, presenting the garden to you.

"You don't go horseback riding? How about practicing swordsmanship?"

He shrugs, "We're short on horses right now, and my father is prioritizing the knights with the horses since they need it. As for swordsmanship, my mother wants me to wait until I'm older."

Short on horses?

"Ahhh, I understand," you nodded awkwardly, "If you ever come to my kingdom, I'll take you horseback riding! You seem like the person who would love doing it."

This sparks a feeling of joy in Jisung, a smile reflecting it, "That would be really nice! I'll look forward to that." He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, "How about you? How do you spend your time?"

"I do studies, like you… I read, visit the village. Horseback riding, of course… suddenly I can't think once I'm asked," you laughed, "But I'm often very active and doing my duties."

"Your life sounds a lot more interesting than mine," he grins, trying to laugh the sad reality off, "It's evident in the way you can't even list all of your activities." You could see his smile start to falter, bangs falling over his forehead as he looked down at his feet.

You feel your heart stutter, and soon you're frowning. The words you had told the other princesses echoed in your head. Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Help each other out?

Reaching out, you grab ahold of his wrist. At the sudden contact, he flinched slightly before relaxing at the realization, "You're still happy, aren't you?"

He nods gently, still dwelling on the fact that even though you both stood at the same social standing, his wealth didn't amount to yours, and he couldn't help but be embarrassed. He couldn't help but feel bad you were stuck with him as a future husband when it was quite obvious you could do better.

"Then that's what matters," you say. A part of you wanted to tell him not to compare his life to others, but you stopped yourself, refraining from creating emphasis on your wealth and his supposed slight lack of it.

At your exchange of glances and sympathetic smiles, the footsteps of Miss Kim grew closer. Looking over, you see as she's waving you both over for dinner. Jisung nodded and held up a thumbs up to indicate that you both were going to follow, sending Miss Kim back to tend to the meal.

Jisung turns to once more, "Thank you, Y/N. I'll live by that."

–

"So?"

Yeji, Hyunjin, and Lia sat around the table, eyeing you as if you owed them something of great importance. You stared back at them, straightening your back as you become aware of the attention on you.

"Pardon?" What is it that you needed to tell them? You didn't recall promising them any sort of information, nor did you have news to pass on.

"How was your visit to the valley region?" Lia questioned, "Was it all as they say it was?"

Yeji leaned towards you, "And Prince Jisung? Was he ill-mannered?"

You mentally bring a hand to your forehead, comprehending what it was they were expecting from you. You assume they wanted you to traduce the Han family and their kingdom. But despite the obvious difference in wealth they had from the rest of the kingdoms and the fact that Jisung lacked the training he needed as a prince, you found no problems in the Han family.

"Their castle was unique," you begin, "It was beautiful, actually." You use a fork to poke into the sliced fruit laid out on a plate, bringing it to your mouth as you wait for their reactions. As anticipated, puzzled looks rose up onto their faces, rather confused about your comment. You continue, "The interior was beautiful as well. Not as extravagant as the Hwang family's castle, but it was still a sight to look at. It was adorned with flowers.

"As for Prince Jisung," you could feel some sense of protection over him, biting back your tongue from saying rude things to those in front of you, "He's just as much a prince as Hyunjin. He's playful and carefree, is all. So I hope you all should refrain from listening to the gossip being spread about the Han family, especially since they're going to be part of my family in the future." The three of them sat back and nodded. You wished you could laugh at the embarrassed and apologetic looks on their faces, but to their eyes, that would not be very polite of you.

ii.

It wasn't until two years later that Jisung had been actually able to visit your kingdom. Though you did enjoy visiting his kingdom and enjoying the change in scenery, having him come to yours was something you had wished for ever since you met him.

Over the past two years of getting to know each other, you had grown much closer than you initially expected. Jisung had a view on life that contrasted to yours in more ways than one, and learning of the different perspectives of the world allowed you to adopt an open mind. You believe that he made you a better princess and future Queen.

Likewise, Jisung has been able to get a taste of what a typical royal life is like through you. Though his family was still able to experience the everyday duties and privilege of being royalty, there were limitations when it came to his position. Through you, he could at least understand what other things were expected of him. As he grew physically, he grew mentally, learning to appear princely in front of others without completely stripping the playful personality he had around those close to him.

Regardless of what others did say about the Han family, the relationship between you both worked well in all sorts of ways. You would always think about what Jisung's mother had told your parents, how you both were brought together by fate, and in that sense, you guys were meant to be partners.

"Ready to ride horses?" You had a mischievous grin on your face as you pulled the boy behind you.

"Why are you smiling as if the horses could kill me?" Jisung eyed you suspiciously, genuinely afraid of what could happen next. He stumbled over his own feet as he followed you, scared yet excited.

You laughed, "I mean, they can, but they won't."

The two of you finally arrived at the stable, catching Seungmin placing the saddles onto the horses. He greeted you and Jisung with a bow before speeding up in doing his task.

"I promise you, I won't let you get hurt in any way," you say. You asked Seungmin to bring the horse out for Jisung, who refused to guide the horse without experience, "You'll get the hang of it. Watch me get on and do the same."

He nods, listening to every single syllable of your words. Setting your left foot onto the stirrup, you grab hold of the saddle and heave yourself up after a couple of bounces on your right foot. You swing your leg over your horse, Blizz, with ease, quickly making yourself comfortable on the horse.

"That… that can't be too hard…." Jisung muttered. He mirrors what you previously did, setting his foot onto the stirrup and grabbing hold of the top of the saddle. You watched as he bounces countlessly on his right foot, unable to find the right time to pull himself up.

"Do you need help, Prince Jisung?" Seungmin questioned. You almost forgot that he was standing aside because of how amused you had grown in watching Jisung.

Jisung shook his head, mentally shooing Seungmin away as he finally times everything right and heaves himself up. Forgetting to throw his leg over the horse's, Buran, body, for a brief moment, Jisung's body had been doing over the horse, hovering as his foot stuck to the stirrup.

"Sung, throw your leg over!" You exclaimed, holding back a laugh. You shouldn't even laugh, as he barely rides horses, but you couldn't help but find the situation hysterical. Jisung was close to panicking, but right when he was going to back off of the horse, he finally found the courage to build momentum to swing his leg over.

"I did it!" He gasped. Jisung shifted slightly on the saddle to make himself comfortable, a proud and bright smile on his face.

"You're a natural!" You tease. You let Blizz move closer to Buran, mirroring Jisung's smile widely, "It's actually difficult getting on horses. I'm surprised you didn't have much trouble."

"Of course," he joked, winking, "I'm me."

You playfully hit his shoulder before going over the ways he was supposed to guide his horse. He listened carefully, never seeming to blink for the next ten minutes of your brief lesson, "I won't go any faster than this." You rode circles around Jisung, keeping your attention directly on him. Judging by the expression on his face, he was nervous to begin moving, "Are you ready?"

Jisung nods confidently, gesturing for you to go ahead of him so that he can follow.

"I'm staying beside you," you told him.

You both started off slow, following a man-made path that circled your family's castle. Jisung had great control of Buran, though his knuckles were white from the grip had on its reins. You assure him that he was okay, that Buran was well trained and would not go out of control even with the most hectic of occurrences.

"Are you sure you haven't ridden before?" You questioned, "Wanna speed up a little bit?"

He nods, "Not so quick, though… I want to ease into it." You nod understandingly as you both begin to speed up. He follows you, heart pounding at the possibility that Buran would not understand his controls, "I've ridden once before, but my father was the one controlling the horse… He let me hold onto the reins, but that was about it."

"How long ago was that?"

"When I was about five."

Making plenty of rounds around the castle, you decide to divert down the path down to the edge of the town. Jisung followed you, even moving slightly ahead, "Your kingdom is beautiful, Y/N."

"I could say that about yours, Sung," you catch up to him and let your gaze fall onto Jisung. The gentle breeze softly brushed through his hair, exposing his forehead. You could tell that he was slowly growing used to the feeling of riding. You figured that speaking to him was a great distraction from the nerves.

He smiles at the mention of his home before shaking his head, "Oh hush… this is about you." He returns your gaze, snickering once he gets a proper look at you. Despite you both being on horses, the space between you both would have been considered close.

"What's so funny?"

He reaches forward and picks out a leaf that had flown into your hair, "Since when did you get so messy?" Letting the leaf fly out of his hand, he winks jokingly at you, causing you to almost fall off Blizz.

"I've always been messy," you rolled your eyes. At the sight of the town, you advanced faster, making sure that Jisung was comfortable without your guidance, "The only reason my bedroom is not cave-like is because of the caretakers."

Jisung won't say it out loud, but somehow, flaws such as this made him fall harder for you. Though you appeared to fit how princesses should be, the more he learned about you, the more he understood that you were just as human as any of those he ruled and you ruled.

"Do you want to stop by the bakery before returning to the castle?" You turned back to look at Jisung, who had chosen to fall back slightly just to catch a glimpse of you, "You can meet Mr. Yang! He'll love you!"

Jisung nodded and trailed closely behind you, ensuring that he wouldn't lose you, not that he actually would lose you. The town's buildings grew closer, the townspeople walking to and from them.

It was nice to see the attire and the architecture of those who lived in your region. Compared to Jisung's region, where people often wore sleeveless or short sleeves, the people wore longer sleeves and thin layers. Though the weather was not at all bad, he figured that they had grown used to this type of weather and generally wanted to dress warmer. The buildings were built on top of platforms that separated the actual structure from the ground, probably to avoid the permafrost during colder days.

"We're here," you turned back, noticing the awe in Jisung's expression. He shook the look off and smiled, slowing the speed of his steed just as u had, "I wonder if Jeongin is in! I've known him since I was younger."

Jisung took time to hop off his horse before dusting off his trousers to make himself look presentable. You were ensuring that the horses were tied tightly at a nearby post, waiting for Jisung to join you. Once he had done so, you both made your way into a large building, the name of the bakery on the front: Yang-Yum Bakery.

"Mr. Yang!"

"Princess! Welcome!" An older man had his head raised over the counter, a deep smile on his face, "And is this Prince Jisung?" He stood up straight and bowed, "Welcome to my bakery. Princess Y/N has told me so much about you!"

Jisung felt his ears warm up before smiling back, "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Yang."

The baker kept the smile on his face as he moved down the counter towards his baked goods, "What would you like? It is on me today as a welcome gift to the Prince."

Jisung's eyes widened at the selection of goods, his mouth watering at how good they all looked. He could hear you thanking Mr. Yang, "Is Jeongin helping out today?"

"Unfortunately not, Princess. He's out doing errands for Mrs. Yang," Mr. Yang retorted. You nodded understandingly before turning your attention down towards the treats. You spot your favourite ones, the meringue cookies, and then the honey-bread, a close second.

"What do you want, Sung?" You questioned quietly, gesturing to Mr. Yang the two choices, "You'll probably enjoy any of them." You could see his eyes moving back and forth across the options, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'd like those," Jisung points towards egg tarts, "And those, please." His finger pointed towards strawberry cream croissants, a satisfied look appearing on his face.

"Coming right up," Mr. Yang smiled and prepped the baked goods for you and Jisung, tying them into a cloth bag. He pushed it towards you with a warm smile, "I hope you enjoy them all. See you, Princess. It was a pleasure to meet you, Prince Jisung." He bowed and softly waved.

You and Jisung bowed back before taking your leave. Soon you both were back outside, people still carrying out their duties. They had not noticed that you were present, which you did not really mind. It was nice not being the center of attention once in a while. And while Jisung was here, you didn't want the usual fuss that occurred when you visited the village.

Speaking too soon, a younger girl noticed your attire, immediately indicating that you were a royal. She smiled and curtsied, "Afternoon, princess."

"Afternoon," you smiled back.

At that small exchange, others followed in pursuit, also noticing the presence of the Prince next to you. And because they did recognize him, you couldn't help but take note of the fact that people were whispering, which wasn't what usually occurred when you were in town.

Upon hearing Jisung's name in their hushed remarks, your ears perked, miraculously gaining the ability to hear the words they spoke, "Isn't that the Prince of the valley? The poorer kingdom."

"Yes… you can tell just from how he's dressed."

Shaking your head, you tune out the insults being 'secretly' thrown towards Jisung, who, judging by the look on his face, could also hear them talk. It was sad how people were so quick to judge.

"This is Prince Jisung," you say confidently, "The one who I will marry in a few years' time… I ask that you respect him as much as you respect my father."

They shut their mouths, bowing to follow what you had asked of them. Jisung's gaze fell onto you, hundreds of thoughts rooted from different beliefs clashing inside his head. The people had dispersed, leaving the two of you alone.

Though you smiled at him, he couldn't help but feel bad that you had to stand up for him. Every time someone mentioned the wealth of his kingdom, he couldn't have but believed you deserved better, especially because there was a drastic difference between your family's wealth and his family's wealth.

Y/N shouldn't be going through this…

"Should we get going?" You questioned, "There are more things I want to show you." You acted so casually about such a situation that Jisung could sense that you've already been in a position. Just how many times have you stood up for him?

Though the idea should be giving him a sense of comfort, he still felt as though he should be doing something in return. Securing yourselves back on the horses, you begin making your way back to the castle. There was a short period of silence before Jisung had spoken up, "You don't need to defend me, you know. But thank you."

You glance over at him and frown, "I don't understand why they judge when they don't even know you… And as your future wife, it is my duty to defend you. Besides, if it were the other way around, you would do the same."

That night, Jisung couldn't help but let the words play over in his head. You were right. He would do the same for you, but it was because he adored you. Did this mean that you felt the same?

"Part Two"

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 10

WC: 1633

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: anxiety, angst, brief fears of infidelity, discussions of childbearing and marriage/gender roles, psych theories, some manipulation, age difference, brief mention of domestic violence (there is none)

A/N: If you have any questions regarding the tags for this chapter and want to ask me about it before reading please do so! The chapter is not necessarily dark but I understand that some may want me to give a more detailed warning/context. I want all my readers to be as comfortable as possible 💙

🧠

It started out small. He would bring up Dr. Stratton during conversation more and more often. Three times now he had been late to office hours, causing you to have to wait outside his room, nervously checking the time. But it’s nothing, you continue to remind yourself. They’re just good friends that haven’t seen each other in years. And you trust them both.

When another Friday night passed with Laszlo skipping drinks in favor of meeting with Karen, you decided to stay in as well. It had been a month since they reacquainted with one another. In those weeks you had seen less of him outside work. Your sex life was stagnating too, much to your annoyance. He had even canceled at the absolute last minute on a dinner date. Naturally, you had begun to feel a twinge of jealousy at his lack of attention. He kept saying it was work related. Nevertheless, the sullen temperament you'd adopted went unnoticed by the doctor. You felt foolish; you weren’t so needy that you had to make a big deal about it. So you said nothing on the issue.

You sat on the old couch in your apartment. Bitsy was getting ready to go out with Lucius for date night. Picking at your fingers, you decide to ask your roommate for advice. “Hey Bits?”

“Yeah?” she called from her bedroom.

“Can I ask you a question about Lucius?” you start.

“Sure, what’s up?”

You pause as you think of how to word your thoughts. “Do you ever, like, get jealous? When he hangs out with other girls I mean.” Her head pops out of the door frame as she finishes fastening her earring, eyebrows raised in question. “It’s just that Laszlo has been spending a lot of time with Dr. Stratton now that she’s back in town. I trust them and everything, but I’m starting to feel a bit left behind I guess…” you trail off.

“Oh honey, that's normal.” She waves a hand through the air as she speaks. “There’s this girl at the lab that Lucius works with and for the first month I was convinced she was trying to steal him away from me. Turns out she just wanted Marcus, his brother!” Bitsy lets out a cackle.

“Right…” you pick at the skin around your fingernails. “I just feel silly about it. I’m sure I’m overreacting to the whole thing, though. Laszlo would never do anything, and I don’t think Dr. Stratton would either,” you remind yourself outloud. "There's just this thing John said to me about them having a past and I can't get it out of my head."

“It's not silly.” Bitsy had moved further into the bedroom, causing her voice to be slightly muffled. “But if it bothers you that much, talk to him about it. He’s a psychologist, it’s kinda his job to understand emotions and things like this. And if he loves you like you say he does then he’ll put a bit more effort into giving you his attention.”

You marinate on what she’s told you. Bitsy is right, if it bothers you that much then you need to bring it up with him. Be an adult, use communication, and all that. “Why’re you always right and level-headed about everything?”

“Someone’s gotta be, with a hot head like you,” she snarks. Her phone buzzes letting her know her date is downstairs. With a squeeze on the shoulder she bids you goodbye, telling you to let her know if you need anything.

_

The atmosphere in Dr. Stratton’s office felt off. What was usually so open and warm had felt forced and awkward. You were still ignoring the guilt of your jealousy at the doctor. She wasn’t as talkative today, unlike usual. Instead, it was strictly business. You chalked it up to her having an off day.

The two of you discussed in more depth the fetishes and kinks from the list you had compiled. Unfortunately, due to spending less time with your boyfriend the last few weeks you hadn’t had much of an opportunity to try any of the new tricks you were learning about. Therefore, you had little to really talk about in that regard. You found that you didn’t particularly mind, as you were feeling less inclined to want to share about your love life due to your envy towards the woman in question.

Dr. Stratton quietly gathered together her notes from the session and placed them into the folder. You were about to ask if she needed anything else from you when her lips parted before closing again. She leaned forward on her desk towards you. Her fingers steepled under her chin.

She licks her lips. “There is something I wish to discuss with you unrelated to the study.”

You didn’t like where this was going. Dread pooled in your gut at the concerned look on her face. “O-okay.”

“Now I want you to understand that I only bring this up out of concern for your wellbeing and emotional health. But some of the things you have told me over the course of this study have me worried.”

What on earth could you have said that would cause this sort of reaction from her? She was the most calm and collected person you had ever known. To have her speaking out made your heart race in your chest.

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before opening her mouth again. “In truth I worry about your current relationship. I fear that-”

Brows furrowing, your mind goes to the worst conclusion. You blurt out “what? No! He doesn’t hurt me or anything, I don’t know what would have given you that impression but I- ”

The doctor reaches out with her hand to settle on your forearm. “My dear take a breath, I meant no such thing.”

You take a deep inhale to compose yourself. “Then what are you talking about?”

“Speaking as your friend, and as an alienist, I fear that this boyfriend is potentially using you for your youth,” she begins the tale she concocted, unbeknownst to you. “In my experience as a psychologist, the young women such as yourself that I encounter with significantly older male companions find themselves locked into the relationship. Typically, it is from dependence on money at first. Over time, the male pressures the woman to be compliant in things like marriage and childbearing. I understand how difficult it is for a woman as driven as you to balance your aspirations with relationships and domestic matters. Do you want children?”

Her statement and question take you back. Confusion is written all over your face. Marriage? Children? Neither you nor Laszlo had ever brought up either subject. You didn’t even know if it was something he was interested in. “Wait what? I'm not sure I follow…”

“Men around his age go through an identity crisis in which they begin to become aware of their mortality. A change in priorities. The most common desire is to procreate, to start a family in which to pass on their wisdom is strongest here. Are you prepared to give him children soon? Of course there is nothing wrong with wanting to be a mother, it is a very noble role. Yet you do not strike me as someone ready for such a large step.”

You can barely form a coherent thought at her onslaught. The whole conversation was so out of the blue that you felt incredibly lost. Did you want children? Did he want children? Now? You wrap your arms around your torso to stave off the uncertainty and anxiety you feel creeping in. No words come to your defense at her interrogation. You are speechless, jaw dropped.

She stands and crosses the room, placing her cool hands on your cheeks. “My dear you are still a child yourself. This is something you need to consider. To… consider the possibility that you can’t give him what he needs. That he may need someone closer to his age with the same priorities, someone more willing to give in to his needs now. I don’t think you’re ready for that. I’ve seen the cost that these girls face. And the societal pressures and judgement you would face being with someone so much older? I think it could throw you into a state similar to after your friend passed. I wouldn’t want to see you in that position again. I want you to have your freedom."

Dr. Stratton looks up at the clock suddenly; “oh! My, I’m going to be late for a meeting, you’ll have to go. I don’t believe we need any more sessions for the study, but I will let you know if anything changes.”

You are too in shock trying to process everything she said to you as she ushers you out of the door with a “think about what I said, dear.” The door shuts behind you.

Karen sat with a huff. She felt a tad guilty for what she had said to you. She had no idea if Laszlo wanted marriage or children, he hadn’t when they were first together. But times change. She hoped that by using the angle of kids and identity crises that she could subtly plant a seed of doubt in your mind. Strike quickly and overwhelmingly, plant the doubt that you weren’t right for him, then push you out before you have the chance to seek answers or reassurance from her. It seemed you bought her false concern as actual worry. You were a great girl. But you were just that - a girl. You couldn’t give Laszlo what he needed, not like she could.

Now she simply had to wait and let your mind eat away at itself, leaving him for the taking.

Tag list

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[thefallenbibliophilequote]

How You Get The Girl

Loki x Reader

1989, chapter 10

"Then one day he came back"

Summary: It's hard to find the one, but even if you do find him it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work. Can you even make it work after he broke your heart? The answer to that is complicated, but it all started when you found each other again in the stark tower- and that's where our story begins.

Word count: 3,586

Warnings: violence, a badly written mission, blood.

A/N: I really hope you like this one! Thank you so much @peterbenjiparker for helping me organize this mess and make sense of the outline! Christy aka @chrissquares made these dividers! and thank you @nacho-bucky for beta reading this!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Series masterlist

Song on Spotify and YouTube

Loki listened to the sound of the heavy rain that surrounded the quinjet as they flew towards where you were.

It was too slow for his liking, he didn't want to imagine what they could be doing to you. It was his fault that they took you in the first place, he didn't know why he didn't recognize your Asgardian powers before.

The powers were so protective of you just as he was. Now he hoped it will be enough to protect you from your captives.

He absentmindedly twirled a dagger in his hand, his mind lost with thoughts of you. He could think of a million spells that could have protected you without giving you these powers, but in a state of panic he didn't think and used the oldest most powerful one. With the raging emotions he had he was certain he messed it up somehow and caused you harm.

All he ever tried to do was protect you. You were supposed to be protected after he left you, but instead you got dragged into this dangerous life and it led you here.

He didn't turn around when he felt the heavy hand on his shoulder, Thor's presence beside him was known.

"It's not your fault, you know."

"How can it not be? It was my mistake."

"You were trying to protect her, you couldn't have known."

"I should have known better, I could have done so much better." Loki's voice was as sharp as his blade, but he didn't push Thor away. He must have lost his mind, well in all fairness he is losing his mind thinking about you. "I thought it was the best way to keep her safe when I was gone. Then I left and I didn't take care of the spell well enough."

"Forgive me for asking brother, but if you loved her so much why leave her?" Loki was beyond denying Thor's specific choice of words.

"I left just before your coronation, when it all started. I couldn't drag her into this- and then I fell and years went by and I couldn't come back to her."

Silence took over and the seconds seemed to last an eternity.

"I think she would've accepted you, no matter what you did." Thor replied after a thought, he remembered the way you looked at his brother, he remembered the way you stood up to him and defended Loki against his father in the briefing room. There was no doubt in his mind that you would've stayed for Loki.

Steve leaned his head back against the wall as he sat on the bench of the quinjet; his supersoldier hearing gave his mind things to think about while the Asgardians' conversation died down.

•

Blue.

The tears on your face were cold as they stained your cheeks. Your mind was still foggy.

Five.

You now heard the voice say, it was clearer as your mind woke up.

Airplane.

You felt the pain as they inserted yet another shot of liquid into your body, your mind started to buzz.

"Rusted."

Another shot of electricity went through your body, you felt metallic taste on your tongue and yet you felt your mind relax with each word he uttered.

"Ice."

With every jolt of pain your mind drifted more and more even when you screamed.

"Nineteen."

"No, I don't want this. Stop." You whimpered. It was a method you learned from Tony- in your head you started naming all of your loved ones, thinking about each of them.

There was Tony, and also Natasha, and Wanda, Pietro and Bruce, Bucky, Steve, and now Loki- you let out a scream and opened your eyes again at the pain.

Folklore.

Your voice did no longer make a sound. You were distanced from your own body.

Longing.

You tried shaking your head but you only watched as your body stood still.

Furnace.

Your mind grew foggy as you saw your surroundings. You wanted to break out of it, you had to.

Red.

"Ready to-" you grunted and leaned forward from the chair you were strapped to as much as you could. "No!"

Your eyes flashed purple and you looked straight at the doctor, you saw the moment the pain hit him but before you could really harm him with your powers you felt the spasms of electricity pulling you back.

They stopped after a minute or so, the metallic taste came back.

"You want to play games? We will teach you to listen," he took your chin in his hand and made you look at him. "We will make you a perfect little soldier. Take her to her room."

He commanded and your eyes widened.

"No, please don't put me there, don't do it again." You started crying without noticing the tears.

"You should get a taste of your own medicine, understand what your powers are really for." He chuckled darkly as you got taken into the room.

The minute the door shut behind you the sensations began, you fell to the ground as the energies were sent to you until your eyes were foggy and you fell down into your own brain.

You saw the worst in there, and you couldn't get out of it.

You were tormented by your own powers.

•

Iyllir waited with her parents at the table until Odin arrived without his two sons and sat at the head of the table, she furrowed her brows, "Where are Thor and Loki? Will they not be joining us?"

"No, my dear, they had to go." Odin simply replied before the maids and servants began to serve their food.

"Did something happen?" Iyllir's mother asked.

"I'm afraid that Midgard is causing some problems." Odin sighed and leaned to talk to her parents more while she nibbled on the food that was served, keeping her ears open to the information the Allfather was giving her. "A wicked organization there got their hands on Asgardian technology, and now they got their hands on a girl with Asgardian powers. Of course then, you understand that I couldn't let them use the girl as their weapon- it would be dangerous, so I hope you forgive my sons for being absent as they are trying to find her."

Odin then looked at Iyllir.

"Lady Iyllir, I am certain Prince Loki will be back soon and all will be well." He sent her a smile and she returned it.

Focusing back on her food she felt her blood boiling, she had ordered for them to take it and kill the girl- and they betrayed her. That kind of humiliation will not go unpunished.

Excusing herself, she went back to her room. Some things she will have to do herself.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she said an incantation and a box appeared next to her. Opening it, she took out the old weapon and held onto the hilt of it, feeling the power of the Dainsleif she strutted forward.

She would kill the girl herself if she had to; nothing would be able to stop her now.

•

Steve walked through the quinjet, Thor promised that he isn't causing the weather but it didn't make him less annoyed at the delay the weather provided in landing as they got closer and closer.

He caught the eye of the younger Asgardian who stood at the edge or the vehicle, he remembered putting him seated there when he first fought him in Germany.

He lowered his head and with a breath he started to walk over. Loki studied him as he did, and Steve let him. They stood there in silence until Loki looked back outwards.

"Thank you, for helping me find her. I don't know what I would've done if I couldn't find her."

"I didn't help you find her, I found her- you were no part of it, you actually didn't help at all." Loki replied, before adding, "I did it for me. I cannot bear the idea of her being hurt." He remembered how it used to be.

"Darling?" Loki opened the door with the key you gave him. He was dripping on your carpet but when he saw you he quickly dried himself, magic is always so helpful.

"Are you insane, Loki?" He shrugged. "There is a huge storm outside!"

"It would be ironic if I got struck by lightning, now wouldn't it?" he joked before coming to you, giving you a peck on the lips and then to your forehead to calm down the worried crease that formed there.

"I guess so… from what you told me I wouldn’t be surprised if it was on purpose." You cracked a smile at him.

"Now, what are you doing?" you blushed when he looked behind you to the desk and to the marker you now had in your hands.

"I just… brought a permanent marker from my room." You nodded to him and cringed to yourself when he laughed and moved around you and walked to the table.

"You can't lie to the god of mischief, my love."

"It wasn't a lie!"

"No, but it wasn't the whole truth either." He pointed to the frames on the table.

Your cheeks got warmer by the minute, and so did his amusement.

He picked up a photo and a small smile lit up his face.

It was a picture you took of the two of you, he kissed your cheek as the fairy lights of the fair, which was right by the beach, lit up your surroundings and the water. It was a treasured memory, the view of you glowing in the lights.

You walked to him and took the picture.

"Why did you get it out of your phone?" he asked.

"I want it framed, so I can always see it- you, all around the house when you're not here."

He saw you write down the date it was taken behind the photo before you picked up a gold frame and put it in there.

"That is beautiful, my love." He went and picked up other photos that were scattered on the table. "Can you make one for me too?"

His eyes were soft as he looked at the pictures.

"You have illusions, why would you need a photo?" You questioned.

"I want you, the real you, with me wherever I go. I want more than just an illusion of you."

You walked to him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You know exactly what to say to get the girl, don't you?" You leaned up to kiss him.

"I only want to get you."

"You have me." You whispered before he captured your lips in a soft kiss again.

He will get you back.

"We will find her." Loki was somewhat comforted by the conviction in Steve's voice. "Together."

And so they stuck together, the god of mischief and the righteous captain America. The team separated when they went through the vast grey warehouse.

No one cared about the body count, this wasn't just another mission and all of them knew that.

So with the gunshot sounds and yells- the god, the captain, and the sergeant made their way forward in search of you.

•

She paid no attention to the wild sounds coming from just outside the door. All Iyllir cared about was her one mission in the room she entered from the shadows.

The agents in the room were focused on transferring the girl who sat on the chair into the room she last saw her in.

"Gather all the stuff up, put her under fast! That will make sure they won't get to her." Doctor Zazu stood next to Commander Iago who was shouting orders.

The doctor organized his work, uncaring of your shaking body that moved as they lifted the seat of the chair to get you out of it.

The commander leaned in and the Lady could hear his whisper.

"I told you your little friends won't get you."

"Fuck you, parrot." You replied and got a harsh slap to your cheek even though you could barely move your head in the metallic chair.

Iyllir stepped forward in the room, her eyes like daggers as she focused on you and the commander.

The agents in the room turned around when they noticed her, guns raised and eyes afraid when they understood who they were pointing at.

"Lady Iyllir-" the commander started to stutter and moved forward, wearing a shaky smile. "We were just-"

"I heard you were building a weapon. We did not agree on that, commander." She awaited his lie.

"She could be very useful- and don't worry, he will not be able to get her. It's a good compromise, we can work it out!"

"Oh mortals are so amusing, betraying me was not a smart move-" she grabbed the hilt and pulled it out. She felt the weight of the power, of the need that was growing inside her. "I'm afraid that we can't back out now."

It was as if the sword acted on its own, seeking blood, and she let it find it.

The sharp edge first pierced the commander's stomach; she pulled out the bloody blade and turned around when she felt other agents try to fight her.

Looking up from the body- she saw you, you were wide awake and aware now, it might have been the power of the sword or her own hatred but she won't let anything stop her from getting what she wanted. You will not be the one to ruin her future, and she was on a time limit when she heard the fighting outside getting closer and closer.

•

Loki threw his daggers at the guy who tried to sneak up on the captain. After he did, he admired the knife throwing skill the sergeant had too before continuing on to find wherever it was that they held you in.

Before long the three located the room they thought you'd be in, Loki used his magic and threw open the two heavy metallic doors and then he saw you, being put inside a see through room. Then he took in the scene in front of him.

Bodies bloody on the floor, almost making a path to where his eyes rested at now.

The Asgardian redhead who he had spent so much time with the past few months stood there stalking towards a man in a lab coat, her royal dress had blood all over it as some still dripped from the sword he now recognized.

"Iyllir?" he called out, confused at the scene. Steve and Bucky came beside him, feeling the tension they stopped and assessed the way to you- down the stairs and through the guards in the big room and into the cell you were trapped in which was in the middle of the room.

"Loki," he saw her eyes widen and for the first time, she didn't look as innocent anymore. "I am so glad you're here-"

He couldn't even hear her when he heard your voice coming through the glass, the tears in your eyes and the half relieved half scared look in your eyes as you shook your head at him, yelling at him to not listen to her.

"The two of you go get her. I will deal with the girl."

He went towards the left then and the two supersoldiers went to the right, agents came their way but Steve knew nothing will stop him from getting to you.

The doctor took his chance to complete his work once Iyllir was occupied with Loki. He spoke in a loud voice at Y/N.

"Blue."

"No!" You screamed but her voice was hoarse.

"Five."

Bucky heard the chant and his eyes focused on the girl behind the glass and the doctor who held a notebook.

"No, this isn't happening again." He decided, knowing the effect of the words. In a silent conversation with Steve, he went in a different way

"Airplane."

Loki stepped up to Iyllir, trying to assess her.

"What are you doing here?" he watched her smile at him. "Do not lie."

His voice was dark now. He didn't know why she was here, but he trusted you, and more so the fear in your voice.

Iyllir studied the man in front of her for a moment before replying.

"Tell me Loki, did you ever feel that the throne of Asgard should be yours? I know that you did." She advanced towards him, still with a smile. "We can do so much you and I, we are very much alike. Why abandon that dream of yours? We can still make it happen.

Why abandon that dream when you know you'll make a great king, and I a queen?"

"Rusted." You shut your eyes and shook your head.

"That's not my dream anymore. This is wrong, Iyllir did you do this?" he saw his wand lying on the table just a few feet behind her.

"This is right Loki!" she swung her hand up in the air alongside the sword. "We had fun you and I, you can't deny it. So forget about her, think about your future- don't you want everyone to see how great you could be? I am your way forward, I'm your future, and I can get you that."

"Ice." You didn't pound on the glass anymore, your mind was hazy.

"I do not need that, I don't want that-" he raised his own daggers. "And I do not want you."

Her eyes shifted then when he started attacking forward.

•

"Nineteen."

Bucky shot another agent, moving forward and he saw Steve trying to get to the room.

"Folklore."

Steve looked at you, heaving your breath, still standing. You refused to meet his stare, you were so strong before, never bowing down to any outside influences, and now here you were.

"Longing."

The doctor's voice was shaking as Loki let his magic loose, Bucky rattled on the stairs he descended to get a good shot at the doctor. Your mind heard the word clearly though.

Loki held a dagger in one hand, and in the other he conjured spells. A green energy blast was shot towards Iyllir, she dodged it and sizzles and sparks flew when it hit a machine instead. Getting closer, she aimed the sword at him again.

"We could've been so powerful."

"You're not powerful, the weapon in your hand is. Do not be mistaken." He tilted his head and summoned a longer spear out of thin air.

"Furnace."

Bucky aimed his shot once he was in the clear. The room shook again, thunder booming outside, as he fired a shot, and then the doctor fell down to the ground.

Steve knocked the guy that came from his left with his shield, effectively clearing his path to the door of the strange room you were held in. He saw your hazed form falling to the floor. You tried to get up to Steve, but you almost fell. You pointed backwards but he paid no attention where you were pointing to.

With his shield he broke the handle and took down the entire door.

Once he was inside, he felt ringing in his ears and a light pressure fell upon him. He couldn't imagine what they were doing to you inside it.

You kept pointing backwards but he just pulled you up and carried you out of there.

"Steve, it's the-" you fought to stay up and aware.

"It's okay, you're safe now." He assured you but you shook your head.

"They are using the-" You couldn't finish your sentence as Steve took you up the stairs.

"Red." You heard the voice loudly and then as you felt waves of hurt crash into you, your mind sunk deeper and deeper and you fell to the ground with a scream, Steve catching you just in time.

The doctor held the wand in his hand, still bleeding out.

"Hail Hydra!" he sneered at Bucky, who turned to him and raised a new gun.

"Hail this," Bucky shot a magazine of bullets at him, his anger leaving no room for remorse. Bucky ran back to where you were with Steve.

Loki watched as you fell to the ground, his heart thudded in fright at the scream you let out. In a momentary of shock, he heard Iyllir laugh and he let out a small huff as the sword pierced through his side.

"See Loki, she wasn't worth it, now she's gone for good." Her smile was sickly. Loki noticed his wand on the floor next to the dead doctor.

His rage resumed as he fell to the ground reaching for it. Once the staff was once again in his grasp after all this time, the room shone with green light as he aimed the wand at Iyllir. The shot of magic he let out in the air hit her and left her breathless. She could feel pain in every cell in her body, she shook a bit before her skin turned as grey as ash and she fell to the ground.

Loki used the staff to get up and he rushed over to you, forgetting the wound in his stomach, you lay down against Steve, who was the only thing holding you up.

His hand was shaky as he cupped your cheek.

"Y/N?" he called to you but all he saw were your glazed eyes, a single tear escaped from them, running down your cheek.

And he knew- you were not with them anymore.

•

Tags: @ayybtch @buckys-other-punk @chaoticpete @madcrazy50 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @the-departed-potato @rogerrhqpsody @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @percabethismyotp14

[reinvent-and-believe]

saying your names

Prompt: hallucination Relationships:  Geralt & Visenna  Rating: T Content Warnings: unintentional but constant misgendering by a parent; depiction of gender dysphoria in a small child; reference to child self-injury (scratching); abandonment issues; minor book spoilers Summary: Visenna's child is claimed by a witcher through the Law of Surprise. When she bears a daughter instead of the promised son, she thinks she's cheated Destiny. But Destiny rarely accepts such defeat. (Or - the trans Geralt mommy issues fic)

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

-

i. The Brave Knight

There’s an old fairy tale from far-away Toussaint, one Visenna remembers her grandmother telling her when she was little more than a babe, of a cohort of the bravest knights who gathered at the behest of the first duke to slay monsters and defeat villains and protect the land from all manner of evil. They were five in total, but none rivalled the gallant Sir Geralt, who defended the innocent and the weak, who perfectly embodied the Virtues, who fearlessly and faithfully loved the beautiful maiden Liliana. It’s a story like no other, full of heroics and chivalry, grand quests and epic romance. Visenna remembers sighing as a little girl, of braiding flowers into her shining copper hair and pretending to be Lady Liliana, rescued by that most puissant and most chivalrous of knights.

She hopes that her own daughter will love the tales as much as she did, so she recounts them while Greta lies in bed, wide dark eyes barely blinking as she soaks in every detail. She’s two now and obsessed with stories, any silly rambling thing Visenna remembers from childhood or improvises about the forest creatures near the village, but none have captivated her quite like this tale.

The next day, Visenna hears her daughter whacking at the swaying cattails at the bank of the river with a stick. “I defeat you!” comes the tremulous cry. “I Sir Geralt! I brave knight!”

It’s a small thing, and silly, yet Visenna goes cold.

ii. The Babe

When she realizes she’s with child, Visenna knows it will be a boy, feels it as sure as she feels the wind on her face, the blood pounding in her veins. She’s happy for a time. She knows the horrors women face, has seen, has felt firsthand the cruelties the world inflicts on beautiful little girls. Better a boy, then. Better a boy with a chance at a good life, a boy she can teach and train, a boy who won’t beat or violate or torment.

A mere month before the babe is due, the man returns, and finds her with child, and tells her what he’s done. He blames Destiny and the Law of Surprise and Tradition as Visenna learns a new type of cruelty men can inflict.

And so she hardens herself, tells herself that she will not become attached to what’s growing within her, this life promised to pay a life debt. “Don’t be absurd,” her friends tell her, through nervous glances. “You always assume the worst. It may well be a girl. The witcher won’t have need of a girl.”

But Visenna knows it, feels it with every spark of chaos within her and every pulse she sends out. The babe will be a boy, and she will have to give him up to the witchers, to be trained and transmuted into something other, something more and something less than the child she’ll birth.

And so Visenna grows cold.

When the midwife puts the squalling red girl with dark hair and wide dark eyes in Visenna’s arms, she sobs for days, sobs until she has no tears left and her eyes are raw and swollen. She won’t let the tiny thing out of her sight, barely lets others hold the babe, even in her utter exhaustion. Destiny may have promised her child to the witchers, but Destiny made the folly of giving her a daughter instead of the promised son.

iii. Greta

Greta will not wear her clothes.

At first, it’s almost a game. Visenna dresses her in a frock while the three-year-old protests then glares in turn when she’s overridden. She moves stiffly in the garment, pulling at the sleeves and tugging at the skirt, but she complies. But the minute she’s out of her mother’s sight, the dress comes off, and Visenna finds her naked, regardless of the weather. And the process repeats.

The struggle over clothing is only the beginning. Generally obedient, respectful, intelligent, Greta is nonetheless not an easy child, prone to inconsolable fits of panic and distress, prone to disappearing if not constantly monitored. It’s as though Visenna has birthed two different children. There’s the sullen, timid girl who hates wearing clothing, who barely speaks, who flinches at the sound of her own name, who stiffens in panic sometimes when she’s called, who cries at the slightest provocation, who goes missing only to be found after a frantic hour of searching lying on the floor in the narrow space between her bed and the wall, staring blankly, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. Then there’s the other child, the one who cuts dark curls short with the pruning shears from the shed, who runs fearlessly through the woods, slaying invisible monsters all around, yelling and laughing and breathless.

When a young couple with a son not much older than Greta moves into a nearby cottage, Visenna hopes that companionship will stabilize her daughter’s volatile, inexplicable moods. Instead, it leads to an immediate altercation: on the first day Greta and the boy Marek play together, the boy’s father shows up on Visenna’s doorstep, furious, with a wide, bleeding gash in his hand. He’d found them wearing each other’s clothes, he tells her. Greta had refused to surrender Marek’s clothes, and when he moved to force her out of them, she’d bitten his hand. “Like a rabid beast,” he spits out as Visenna runs past him to the small shack where Greta makes herself as small as possible, shaking all over.

Visenna shoves a few coins at the man with a glare. “Buy your son another outfit,” she snaps, and when she kneels down to Greta’s level the terrified child’s arms wrap immediately around her neck. She takes her child home in the roughspun tunic and trousers.

(Maybe she should punish the child for biting, but Visenna knows the ways men can be cruel, had seen the terror in her child’s huge brown eyes. Even if he meant no harm in trying to retrieve his son’s clothes, she can’t help being glad the child bit him rather than permit his touch.)

Visenna has never listened to Greta’s thoughts before, rarely listens to anyone’s on purpose, hates the uneasy sense of violation the act stirs up in her. But as she carries the silent, shaking child home, the thoughts ring so loudly she can’t keep them out.

Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl.

Then:

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

iv. The Child

The morning after the incident with the neighbor, Visenna lays two outfits side by side on the bed: the tunic and trousers nicked from the neighbor boy, or the dress most frequently tolerated, a plain shift of soft linen, comfortable and loose.

"Which would you rather wear today?" Visenna asks, making the beds as usual. She hears the sharp intake of breath, sees out of the corner of her eye the hesitation, and then the child grabs the boy's clothes and cradles them in trembling arms.

Visenna visits a tailor and trades in little frocks for breeches and shirts. She watches her child’s face light up when she presents them, watches the child run reverent fingers over each garment, little hands doing their best to neatly fold each piece.

She stops calling the child Greta; stops calling the child anything but child. The child doesn’t seem to mind this namelessness; on the contrary, the child thrives. The too-thin frame rounds out with healthy, nearly chubby development as the child begins to eat more than a few bites at each meal; weak, skinny arms and legs grow strong with constant running and playing in the woods near the house. Banished is the pale, terrified little girl; only the rambunctious, talkative, joyful child remains.

"When I'm a knight," the child tells her one day, coming in from the yard wearing a bucket as a helmet, "I'm going to ride a big horse."

"Oh, a big horse," Visenna echoes, ladling the soup into a wooden bowl and blowing gently to cool it. "What will you name the horse?"

The child considers this. "Does it have to have a name?"

"All creatures need a name."

The child doesn't speak for a long while. Then that piping, gentle voice rings out. "What if the horse hates its name? It won’t be able to tell me."

Visenna sets the bowl down on the table. She doesn't ask any of the questions pounding through her head as she looks at her nameless child, lost in thought. She doesn’t think about Destiny, how a witcher may well show up at her door at any moment looking for their payment, doesn’t think about taking the child there herself. "Helmet off," she says instead, running a hand through dark curls when the child obeys. "Come, eat your soup."

v. The Butcher

She first hears whispers of the Butcher of Blaviken when she’s traveling through Poviss, brought north by an outbreak of smallpox needing healers. She hears of the vile, deranged, white-haired witcher who slaughtered nearly an entire village unprovoked, even women and children. She thinks little of it. The child she left with the witchers over half a century ago had brown hair, and the years would not have turned it so quickly, not on a witcher.

If he’s even still alive.

She puts the thought away, carefully, as she has for decades.

She thinks of it a little more in Kovir. “You’re one of them!” shrieks a woman in the tavern, pointing at a bulky man sitting in the corner. “One of them witchers like that Butcher! I seen your wolf necklace!”

All eyes train onto this disfigured witcher who is not Visenna’s child. (Does her child bear scars like this? Do his shoulders stoop in such defeat?) He scrubs a square hand over his face, looking almost pained, before he shoves away from the table in silence and leaves.

School of the Wolf, then, just like the witcher she’d surrendered her child to with naught but a letter left at the inn where he was staying. Your Child Surprise will be at the crossroads by the river at midday. A few brief, stilted sentences explaining that the child was different from other boys but Destiny had chosen him nonetheless. A terse plea that the witcher treat the child with kindness, to protect him if he could. A postscript, written in a shakier hand than the rest of the letter. My son’s name is Geralt.

Vesemir. The child’s father had called him old, grey-haired even then. Is Vesemir this Butcher, the ruthless, barbarous old witcher who leaves a trail of fresh corpses in his wake? Had she entrusted the helpless child to a merciless brute all these years ago?

It’s not until the notice board outside of Tridam that she understands. It’s a fairly standard notice concerning some vague, nondescript monster that’s caused disappearances, pleading for help from any witcher, excepting the butcher Geralt. Show your face in Tridam and we’ll finish you off like they should have done in Blaviken.

Her child, the Butcher of Blaviken.

She doesn’t know what happened in Blaviken, can’t find a clear telling. Killed a woman, some say, killed an army, killed all but three people, killed everyone down to the dogs and cows and sheep in his rage. Tales grow in the telling, she knows, but she can’t dispute it. Perhaps he is evil incarnate, perhaps by sending him to the witchers she doomed the continent to bloodshed, perhaps he is the monster in these furious whispers.

But she can’t help remembering the tiny, terrified body, rocking in the corner of a shack, those wide eyes staring up at her in panic. “Like a rabid beast,” the man had said, but Visenna found only a petrified child shaking in the corner.

vi. The White Wolf

The young man swaggers towards Visenna. Between the bright turquoise doublet, the enormous feather swooping dramatically through the air on his jauntily tilted hat, and the self-assurance of his stride, he looks like a veritable peacock.

It’s her own fault. She knows she’d been staring, but the sound of that name on his lips…

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” His smile is bright and surprisingly genuine, reaching all the way up to his eager blue eyes. He’s younger up close than she’d imagined from across the tavern, barely more than a boy. “Though not half so lovely as you, I daresay. Might I interest you in a drink?”

She nods, silent. Watches him charm a passing barmaid who blushes and quickly returns with the desired ale. He slips into the chair across from Visenna, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his long fingers together beneath his chin, fixing her with a wide-eyed, adoring smile.

Before he can speak, she asks, “Your song. About the witcher.” She pauses, unsure what she means to ask. “Did you write it?”

Somehow the boy looks even more delighted. “Indeed I did! By the gods, it’s wonderful to chat with a fan. It’s one of my most recent compositions. How did you like it?”

“Hmm.” The boy’s song had been so jarringly different from any reference to the child she bore than she’s ever heard. In the bard’s honeyed voice, he sounded almost heroic. She hesitates. “Do you know him?”

“Only a little,” he admits, but there’s a slight flush on his childish face that he attempts to cover with bravado. “The song is the true telling of our grand adventure. I accompanied the White Wolf on his quest to defeat the Devil of Posada, the most terrifying monster to ever...well, terrorize the good people of the Valley of the Flowers.”

“And he’s...he’s not what people say?” Those huge brown eyes staring up at her, tiny body trembling. “Not a butcher?”

“Oh my good lady, not at all!” The bard’s expression of dismay is guileless, earnest. “He saved me, put himself between me and harm’s way when we were captured by the elves, offered his own life for mine.”

A life debt. Just as the child’s father had promised the Law of Surprise to the old witcher, the vow that had set the course of Geralt’s life before he was even born. And now this strange boy owes Geralt a life debt of his own.

“So that’s why,” she confirms cautiously. “Why you write songs for him. Make him the hero when men would be more than happy to remember him as a monster.”

The boy hesitates, his charismatic blustering slipping as he bites at his bottom lip. He reaches distractedly into his pocket, finding some trinket he rolls about in his palm to occupy his busy, nervous hand before he slowly answers. “Even if he hadn’t saved my life I would have written about him. Well, not if I hadn’t survived that particular encounter, of course. But if I’d gotten away myself, or if I hadn’t followed him into the wild in the first place, I would still have written about him.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I…I don’t think he’s known very much kindness.” The bard doesn’t look at her, quite, as he speaks, slower and softer than before. “You ought to see the way he responds to a simple compliment, you’d think his head might explode, he twitches and looks bewildered and grunts angrily. It’d be amusing if it weren’t so very sad.” He’s quiet for a moment, tracing the wood grain in the table with his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. “But he’s kind, even if the world isn’t. He gave his reward for the contract to the…well, to someone who needed it more. And before that, he…” He glances down at the dull gold coin between his fingers, rubbing absently at worn, beveled edges, his face flushing prettily. “He liked my singing.”

She watches the bard, lost in thought and fiddling with a lone coin, for a long while.

vii. Geralt

A slip of a thing running through the woods. Frightened. Alone.

A fight. Gruesome, brutal, fast.

The stench of decay.

“And me? What did I do? I bandaged a wounded man who’d fainted away and put him on my cart and didn’t leave him to expire. It’s an ordinary matter.”

“It’s not so ordinary. I’ve been left...in similar situations...like a dog.”

Blood. Not running, red and healthy and clean; slow. Thick. Dark. Foul.

Infection.

Youths dancing in lusty delight on a warm spring night. A woman with raven curls, naked and wistful in his arms, the warmth of a bonfire lighting her face a beautiful gold. Children screaming, playing in a dried moat. A queen, formidable and sneering, full of contempt.

Hideous wounds, threatening the leg. Amputation may be necessary, without immediate intervention.

Resin in the air.

Ashen hair matted over the clumped, drying cake of blood deforming half of a pale face.

Black potion with a green seal. And then darkness.

Visenna awakes with a start.

The druids’ campsite is still, the last embers of the fire the only light in the darkness of the forest. She pulls the woolen cloak around her thin shoulders, grabs her medical bag, and goes to find the witcher that was once her child.

She finds him a pale and bloody mess on the back of a cart, eyes open and unseeing. He’s racked with feverish chills as his body desperately attempts to fight the infection poisoning him.

She helps the merchant move Geralt carefully onto blankets on the ground. She tends to him, as she’s tended to thousands of others. She cleans his wounds, scraping destroyed, decaying flesh away from healthy tissue, pulling the gentle pulses of chaos from the earth to purify his blood, draining infection and necrosis and narcotic alike from him.

She’d cleaned blood and dirt and debris from scraped knees, once, the too-fast beating of a little, huge heart pounding so loudly she could feel it. The wounds of childhood.

His pulse is slow, the drumbeat of a dirge.

She’s warm all over, suddenly, then cold. Her vision swims before her eyes.

A little more. The pulsing wanes, wavers as she begins to join him in the dark void beyond consciousness.

No.

She breathes, her eyes closed, then returns to her work.

She feels him stirring before he makes a movement, senses him swimming to the surface, coming to. He’s quiet, still, blank. When his eyes open, he’s staring at the treetops above them. His face is impassive. Lifeless.

The way she would find him, sometimes, after he went missing as a child. Staring at nothing. Trying not to be.

She can hear it in his voice. He knows.

His leg will heal, now. She’s done all she can.

She moves on to the bedsores, massaging ointment carefully into the open wounds. His body is stiff and unyielding beneath her touch.

She gives him what she can. “It’s my profession,” she says. Her voice is steady, cool. It’s no excuse, no answer, but it’s what she has. “The only thing I’ve ever been good at.” This much at least is true. This much she can give him.

She’s always known she would meet him again. She never sought him out, never avoided him. “People linked by destiny will always find each other.” She hears it, as though it’s someone else’s voice.

“I want you to look at me.” It’s a snarl. Not a sound she’s heard from those lips before. “How do you like my eyes? Do you know, Visenna, what they do to a witcher to improve his eyes?”

She knows enough. She meets his gaze.

Those eyes, the greatest marker of his difference, his inhumanity. They’re golden, now, instead of brown. His pupils are wide, round, black, pained. They aren’t so different. So monstrous.

Just the eyes of a terrified child lashing out in desperation.

“Do you know it doesn’t always work?” he demands.

“Stop it, Geralt.”

And something breaks.

“You don’t get to use that name!” There’s a frantic rage dripping off every syllable, hatred and agony, like a festering wound ripped open and left to bleed. He glares at her with a wild fury. “Vesemir gave me that name.”

And he’s a child, he’s three years old and screaming like he’s being tortured when she calls his given name. He’s five and distraught over the thought of a horse who hates its name and can’t tell anyone. He’s four and he’s a trembling mess with blood beneath his fingernails, shaking and unable to stop ripping at his own flesh.

“You trusted Destiny rather than trying to find me yourself,” he begs.

A child with nothing in the world running through the forest and into the arms of a witcher.

There’s a tear running down her face. It’s the only thing she can feel. “Don’t ask me any more questions,” Visenna says softly.

“Why?”

She’d known since before he was born that she wasn’t to keep him. That Destiny had other plans.

When she thought she had a daughter, there was hope.

“The answers will only hurt us both.” Carefully, Visenna presses him back into the makeshift sickbed.

“Yen was right.” His voice is low, barely audible, a broken murmur. “It’s not enough to be destined for each other.”

A child runs through the woods and finds a witcher waiting.

Brown curls become ashen locks. Eyes swirling brown and gold and green.

“Something more is needed.” He’s not speaking to her anymore. He’s staring up, at the treetops and through them to the stars above, his eyes losing and regaining focus. “I...I want…”

“No.” Her voice is soft, and she sees him relax into the smooth cadence in spite of himself. “Go to sleep, Geralt.” She hesitates as his eyes grow heavy, begin to drift shut, and she can’t help leaning toward him to gently whisper, “And just between us, Vesemir didn’t give you that name.” She lets herself reach out, carefully brushing white hair off his sweating brow. “It doesn’t change anything, but I’d like you to know that.”

“Visenna…”

“Sleep. I was just a dream.” She hesitates, watching silently as he fights the exhaustion, like a child fighting to stay awake past his bedtime, begging for one more story. “Sleep, Sir Geralt.”

He does.

viii. Sir Geralt

She does not see him again.

She travels to Sodden and heals the injured, soldier and mage alike.

She hears tales, as she has for years.

Geralt’s kidnapped a young Cintran princess for unspeakable, nefarious purposes.

Geralt died on Thanedd, caught up by chance in the mages’ bloody revolt.

Geralt led the forces of Lyria and Rivia against Nilfgaard, earning himself a knighthood and a position in Queen Meve’s army.

(She doesn’t believe any of them, doesn’t let herself care either way, but she hopes the latter is true. Hopes he lives out the rest of his days a brave knight, as he always dreamed of becoming.)

Visenna works. Cleans and stitches and bandages wounds, wanders from battleground to battleground. There’s no shortage of work for a healer.

So many tales of Geralt the witcher, Geralt the traitor, Geralt the butcher, the knight, the outlaw, the hero, the father. Of his victories and defeats, his loves and enemies, his transcendence, his demise.

Visenna listens to them all. Collects the stories, the lies, the praises, the calumnies. She draws them carefully within her. Carries them with her as she continues on the path.

For all the rumors and speculation and ballads, of all things, for all the different Geralts, there’s one that’s hers and hers alone. A skinny, adventurous child with brown curls and a bucket-helmet falling into his eyes who swings a gnarled oak stick as a sword. He’s ever vigilant, ever ready to defend the weak against the unrelenting onslaught of monsters only he can see.

[bokuroo-squeals]

Of rough time, marriage and fears

Daichi x reader

Genre: Requested angst to fluff

Summary: After a year of being happily married, trouble seems to appear at paradise when Daichi starts growing distant.

Note: This is not the best, and I don't think I took it the right direction but it was fun to experiment with this. Let me know if there's any orthographic or grammar mistake ,and thank you for reading!!

Marriage is more than a pretty wedding and golden rings, more than a cozy house with nice plants to water. Marriage is way more than all that, so it's not surprise to have though days, fights and disagreements are not a foreign concept, but nothing of this was enough to break you and Daichi. Or so you thought.

One year into your spouse life started like a dream. Even when the road had potholes in the way, you two were mature about it and faced them together. Every morning you woke up next to the love of your life, and he held you close as if you were the most valuable thing in the world, and for a while, you thought you were to him. But months gone by taught you otherwise, because now the space between you was unbearable, like ice left too long on skin. And how it started you don't know, but you wished you did.

The first sign was Daichi growing distant, the second one was him getting in contact with an old friend, a past 'almost something' he knew since high school. And then, it was him spending more time with friends, with her, and you left alone at home to play the loyal housekeeper, the cute spouse that cleaned and cooked but couldn't enjoy dinner with the husband. So it hurt, the feeling of being left behind was slowly filling your lungs until you couldn't gasp for air normally, until the sensation was too much to handle.

The night was as normal as it could go, with you sitting on the couch, waiting for Daichi to come back home from work. Dinner had grown cold, and the clock's hands had moved so much for you to remember how long have you been waiting. Alone in a house meant for two, you couldn't help but feel lonely without Daichi, and you stop to thing briefly, maybe it's your own fault.

It's almost midnight when you hear the door open, then the shuffle of his shoes against the floor. He comes to through the frame, notices your figure and walks your way with heavy steps, Daichi's weight pulling him down in every movement of his legs shows how tired he is.

"It's late, you shouldn't have wait for me. I was out with Suga and the rest after work" he explains briefly after he collapsed next to you on the couch, finally giving into exhaustion.

The conversation ends like that.

Next time is not as peaceful

"Where are you going?" You asked again, the third time already on the week. You're tired, tired of not feeling like you still matter to him, exhausted of feeling him escape through your fingers even when he is right there in front of you.

"Another class reunion. Yuna-san..."

Your blood rushes with anger and you don't let him finish, you can't. It's too unbearable, the feeling of fury.

"Yuna-san? Another reunion? Daichi, please. You're rarely home this days, please, can you just stay with me this time?" Is not easy or possible for you to mask how exasperated you are at this point. Your husband notices the trembling of your body, coming closer to you with a tired sigh.

"We talked about this. Don't do this tonight, Y/n" with how hard he mutters it, it comes out like a warning, one that you're willing to ignore in favor of your feelings. This time is different, any patience or consideration have been thrown to the drain by you, and you are finally ready to explore.

"No! We haven't talk about this, we never talk, and that's the problem! Is always just you asking me to drop it, to leave you alone, to swallow everything inside me, and honestly, I'm not doing that anymore" He stares at you with brows knitted together tightly, a clear sign of him not approving what he takes as a tantrum for his attention.

"We'll talk when you have calmed down. Until then, I'm going out" Daichi turns to walk out, about to leave the scene like nothing, like your marriage was nothing.

Tears you didn't know were there start falling out of your eyes, dramatic style out of a lame romantic movie.

-

For him, it started with jokes and teasing from the team, making fun of him for a few laughs. It wasn't anything too malicious, a few comments here and there over his marriage life, how he was an old man now and how they were getting ready to not see him anymore at reunions or parties. Daichi could handle that, even laughing along with them, until Yamamori Yuna arrived back into his life.

There was a school reunion that he decided to attend after months of being stressed by work, just going out for some drinks and catch up with their past classmates, a night to refresh those records left in their memories from their youth. Everyone was chatting animatedly, the same jokes Daichi was used to were repetead, which he responded with an equally happy laugh. But the girl next to him frowned, her hand discreetly sneaking in a smooth motion all over his arm to get to his shoulder.

"Doesn't it bother you, Sawamura-san? They're making fun of you. " The seemingly troubled expression on her face was enough to cut his laughter.

"It's alright, I'm having fun out of it too"

"Well, it's not fun for me as your friend. Ever since the wedding you have been so engrossed on your partner, that it looks like have forgotten to be your own person, and now you're the joke of your friends". Yamamori's frown deepened even more, her pretty face painted with fake consern. She was so immersed in the little act, in her own selfish intentions, that every word sounded like authentic worry.

That conversation stays engraved on his mind more than it should've.

It's not like he doesn't love you, because he does. The band on his finger is the proof of his adoration towards you, but the fear of losing himself is powerful and big enough to overthink. Daichi starts going out more, because after thinking about it, he was closing off his friends, going out less, not answering texts, missing calls and updates from his friends.

Yuna seems to have all the answers for the questions plaguing his mind, so naturally, he hangs out more with her and his friends. Getting loose and enjoying himself with other people that's not you, because he thinks it what he needs.

He's told you before that she's hanging out with the boys and him lately, he's talked about her when you ask where he was or what was he doing. It's not like he's hiding the fact that he's been in contact with her, yet you still feel like trash when the ghost of doubt makes it's way on your heart.

-

When he returns, he doesn't expect you to be awake, thinking that you'd be on your shared bed, passed out after calming yourself. But you're as awake as you could be, with bloodshot eyes and dry tears over your sad features, and his heart pants with pain at the view. Is heartbreaking, seeing you as equally heartbroken, and us even more heartbreaking knowing he was the cause of your suffering. So he holds you, close to his heart to comfort a little what he has hurt.

"You don't love anymore. You're gonna leave me for her, Yuna" your words are tainted by anguish. An uncomfortable affirmation from your part, one that's not even close to the truth. His breathing stops and for a moment, he swears his heart does too.

"Don't say that, don't you dare say that again. I love you so much, you don't even understand." He opens up his heart with you.

Fifteen minutes is how much it takes him to explain to you all what has gotten to his mind ever since the first reunion. How he was afraid of not being him anymore, of being forgotten by his friends, of hovering over you too much.

"I'm awful, I'm the worst. My selfishness is the worst. I know, now I know. But please, you're the only one for me, I'd never cheat or leave you. The only one on my mind is you. At this point, you've ruined everything for me; love, sex, even religion. No-one can come close to whatever you do, to whatever you make me feel, I can't be tempted by anything that isn't you".

You belive him, you do. The way words spill so easily, flowing like water, can't be faked, neither can be the sparkle in his eye which you hadn't seen in weeks.

-

Daichi's path to redemption begins with being home early after work. Coming to your arms as soon and fast as he can, welcoming your warmth deep in his soul. Once again in your embrace, is hard for him to think just how much has he been missing out.

Is the kisses and hand holding, is your voice and your love what makes Daichi feel safe.

"Daichi, you have to shave" you tell him between giggles, his facial hair caressing the skin on your neck making you itchy.

"Later" he murmurs while he inhales your scent. It calms him down, it relaxes him.

Right now, he has to hold you close, love you as much as he can to make up for the bitter days he had made you suffer. Right now, you feel as safe and as happy as possible, between his arms that are your real home, beside him where you belong.

Marriage is more than just a pretty house and golden rings. Marriage is failing and hurting, with the promise of fixing whatever it needs to mend together.

[power-chords]

Post-trip round-up, integration, thoughts (cut for length & some Heavy Shit)

WOW I needed that and I am so glad I realized I needed that. It has been well over ten years since I last took LSD, and my reluctance to indulge in psychedelics again was rooted in a long and complicated history that I don't really need to hash out here, but doing a mild dose of mushrooms last weekend gave me the confidence and conviction that I was ready.

Would it have been wiser to take a less bonkers dose for the first time in a decade plus? Probably! Do I regret a single moment of it? Not a whit! It's tough to overstate just how powerful, therapeutic, and restorative a good acid trip is, even an occasionally intense, uncomfortable one. I do not recommend eating multiple tabs of extremely good blotter on your first rodeo, but Adam's even more of a veteran psychonaut than I am, so I was 1000% well cared for, totally safe, and in a comfortable, familiar environment. In that setting, and in a positive frame of mind, acid is not going to throw anything at you that you are not equipped to handle. I would love to make this an annual or biannual thing.

The cool, funny, wacky delightful stuff:

Put it under my tongue at 10 AM-ish. Went to go listen to some music and doodle until it kicked in. I forgot that the come-up is like, do not make any fucking plans involving hand-eye coordination LMAO. I was trying to doodle Bowery Ballroom in an old sketchbook, and that devolved quickly. The markers were old so some of the caps were really stuck on there, and I wound up devolving into fits of laughter from the absurdity of pulling the caps off with my teeth.

Ink stains on my hands started writhing and trailing and were very cool. That was the first thing I noticed. I got very sad that I stopped drawing and making art, which was something I did all my life and almost went to school for but stopped doing as an adult. And then I realized I could start drawing again any time if I wanted to, and I didn't have to be GOOD at it or a proper artist for it to be worthwhile and fun. Felt immediately happy again.

Adam decided to watch Lethal Weapon???? I was like, Don't Like That. Even though he had headphones on and I couldn't hear anything. I am ambivalent about screens at best when I'm tripping, and at worst I don't even want to be in the same room with them. Guns and violence seemed comically, brutally stupid. Turned my back to the TV and continued drawing and writing until I could no longer hold a pen. Eventually Adam got on my wavelength and was like yeah, this is too much! (He took like, twice the dose that I did. I have no idea how he was even able to talk to me, but he managed!)

Felt the need to message Liana while peaking, picked up my phone, and saw that she had already sent me this:

I thought that was HILARIOUS (tbh it actually was, and it was not just the acid talking)

For the first few hours of teeth-grinding, reality-shearing intensity, Adam and I mostly lounged in bed with the shades pulled all the way up and the window open, cuddling and petting Ernie. Fantastic bonding experience for the whole fam.

Looking at every surface in the apartment became like looking at a stained glass ceiling, or an infinite mandala, or the muddied rainbows in oil-slicked puddles. It looked like Ernie's fur was breathing and someone had colored all over the white parts of him with a highlighter. Adam agreed with this assessment. Formica on the kitchen counters was bananas. So were the trees outside, rippling like celluloid and brighter green than I had ever seen them.

The two of us spent a good 15 minutes doubled over with laughter because Adam suggested a contraption for funneling Fancy Feast directly into Ernie's mouth, kind of like shotgunning a beer

Adam: "I can't believe I used to to this and get on the subway and try to do things with people." Me: "What? How did you even figure out how to get from Point A to Point B?" Adam: "I mean, we didn't, really. We usually got lost. It was fine, though." Truly, it's about the friends you make along the way!

The second half of the trip, when things are starting to mellow out a bit, is when you become a real rock star. I went outside for a walk around the neighborhood, and to sit in the park with my headphones on while watching kids play on the playground, and it was ECSTATIC. I was just overjoyed. My face still hurts from smiling.

Forgot that I needed money to realize my goal of obtaining a popsicle, so I had to detour back into the apartment and explain all of this to my husband before resuming the popsicle quest. He thought it was very funny, but sympathized.

Fresh air, popsicles and San Pellegrino on acid. On another level! 100/10.

Bathrooms still universally suck, LOL. -10/10. Not a fan of that bathroom while tripping face! Every time I had to pee it was like WELL here we go again into the Pink Squirming Hell Chamber (I am making this sound like more of a big deal than it actually was)

15 HOURS. 15 HOURS Jesus Christ lmao I did not stop seeing weird shit on screens and surfaces until like 1 AM. And even then, if I stared long enough, funky colors and patterns would re-emerge. It's a commitment. I feel happy and refreshed, but also totally exhausted. Definitely have to budget a full weekend of No Plans for any future trips.

The Heavy Shit:

There is some Cronenberg-level body horror right before the visuals get super rainbow-stained and stereotypically psychedelic, which sounds bad, but I promise it isn't. It's watching the veins pulse under your skin and change into very saturated colors, pores and hair and scars become very defined and wiggly, and as someone who has so much bodily anxiety related to my alopecia/IBS, it was weirdly... freeing? You get to experience all this stuff in an entirely new frame of mind, shedding judgment and old thought ruts. I remember thinking, "I do not need to feel shame about my body," and letting go of so much baggage.

At some point mid-afternoon I decided to retrieve my phone from the drawer again, and saw that I had a missed call and a voicemail from my dad. I decided to play it back, and he was just phoning to tell me that he was listening to a live version of "Sally Simpson" and Keith was doing this thing where he wasn't even touching the cymbals, and had I listened to that specific performance before and noticed the same thing, and wasn't he truly the greatest drummer that ever lived? "Anyway, no need to call me back, just wanted to let you know. I love my bubbie!" (His term of endearment for me.) And I went to go sit in bed and weep for a straight 15 minutes, the most cleansing, purging cry you could possibly imagine, while Adam hugged me and rubbed my back. I was overwhelmed, overcome by this feeling of cosmic Love and Connection with my family and my husband and all of my friends.

I had been sitting on and burying so much fear and distress from the past 18 months, the chronic, low-grade trauma that was worrying if COVID was going to kill my father, my best friend and closest confidante and the one person on earth who I feel truly Gets Me on a spiritual level, and all of that came out. Fully processed and released every ounce of grief. What replaced it was the absolute, unshakable faith that no matter what happens — including my greatest fear, which is inevitable, no matter how far off it may be — he will always be with me, and a part of me, in the music we both love, and I will never, ever lose that.

[toutallyahoe]

Want And Need ~ Gavin Reed (DBH)

requested by: --

pairing(s): gavin reed x male reader, tina chen x male reader

warnings: cursing, drinking alcohol, angst, unrequited love

a/n: this had been in my drafts for months or 2018 to be more accurate lmao and now i finally finished it asfahaksjad anyways, been awhile since i written for dbh

and some... uhh... stuff

so enjoy! :D

"What? You're going already?" Tina couldn't help but chuckle as she nodded her head, sending her brunet friend a smile as she stood up from the chair she sat.

"Yeah," Tina said as she then shrugged when Gavin sent her an annoyed look. "Wish I could hang more but [Name] wanted to take me out for dinner."

Gavin rolled his eyes at the black haired woman turned her head to the doorway to see the said male she was talking about with the brunet detective. [Name] was leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed on his chest. A small grin on his lips as he saw Tina spotted him.

"And speak of the devil, there he is now," Tina had laughed as she gave a small wave from the [Hair color] haired male who sent her a grin.

"Hey, you two!" [Name] had joyfully greeted as he approached the two. [Name] slung his arms around both the twos' neck as he peck the black haired female's cheek and then sent Gavin a smile. "Missed you guys so much!" The [Hair color] haired man had chuckled as Gavin let out a groan as he drank his drink.

"Speak of the devil indeed," Gavin had groaned as he sent a small glare at the other man who only chuckled while the female grinned.

"Awe, you didn't missed me, Gav?" Gavin rolled his eyes as he saw [Name] pout.

"Miss you? You gone was the best hours of my life," Gavin huffed as he then continued on. "And stop calling me "'Gav,' damn it!"

Tina couldn't help but chuckle as [Name] had his arms retracked back towards him, freeing the two. "Now, now boys. Stop being six year olds and make up," Tina had teased as Gavin sent her an annoyed glare.

"Fuck off, Chen," Gavin spat as the said female laughed as the [Hair color] haired man had ruffled Gavin's hair who in turn cursed him then.

"Anyways," [Name] had trailed off as he raised his wrist to looked at his watch. "We better be going now, love," [Name] had finished as he turned his gaze to Tina and lovingly smiled when he saw her nodded her head and took her coat from the chair beside her.

Softly smiling, Tina looked back at the brunet sitting beside her who raised his glass and drank the alcoholic contents. Patting the male's shoulder as she bid her good bye. "Well, we gotta go, Gav. See you tomorrow at the precinct!" Tina had said as she walked towards the door's of the bar, turning her head to see [Name] patting Gavin's back and bid his good bye as well.

"Don't drink too much, Gavin," [Name] had said as he sent the brunet detective a small smile.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now go and have a fun," Gavin had said as he shooed the [Hair color] haired man away, sending a smirk as he did. "Not too much fun, though!" He had hollered which caused [Name] to chuckle with a faint blush on his cheeks and had Tina yelled Gavin's name in disbelief as she then laughed and flip him off. The said male merely returned the gesture with a grin.

"Have fun you two!" The brunet bid as he saw [Name] had began walking towards Tina who waited for him in the entrance of the pub. Their hands intertwined then when the [Hair color] haired man had finally arrived beside the asian female as they then  walked out the club together. Leaving behind Gavin who's smile faded as he watched the two.

The brunet turned his gaze in front of him as his hands clutched the glass on his hands hard as he grit his teeth. He then emptied the contents of alcohol from his glass by downing it in one go. The acidic taste of alcohol going down his throat as he slammed the glass on the counter.

"Jim! Get me more!" Gavin had ordered as the bartender only nodded his head and did what the brunet had said. Filling Gavin's glass with whiskey as the male had then immediately drank it. "Another!"

  

Drunk out of his ass, Gavin was now on his apartment where he sat at the red velvet couch and groaned out from the pain he was feeling with his head aching. "Fuck, I shouldn't have drank to much," Gavin had muttered to himself as he rubbed his temple. The brunet already regretting his choices as he sat there.

Gavin let out huff and was about to sleep on the couch when a meow beside him had took his attention. Turning where his cat was, the feline had merely looked at their owner almost judgingly as they then went back to laying comfortably beside the drunk male.

Gavin stopped rubbing his aching head and just stared blankly at in front of him. A sigh left his lips. "God... I'm such a fucking mess..." Gavin muttered to himself as a frown on his lips, wondering how he came to be.

"Oh right, it was with him..." The brunet had softly said as he remembered what happened a few days back.

"Saturday, six o'clock at my place?" [Name] had said as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. A small, nervous smile on his lips as the female in front of him giggled.

"Sure thing, [Name]," Tina said as she punched the [Hair color] haired man's shoulder. "Better be fun," Tina giggled as she saw [Name] sent her a beaming smile.

"Trust me, I'll make sure it will be."

Not to far away from the two, Gavin turned around and began walking away. Passing by a trash can where he immediately threw the movie he had bought for their hang out, he gritted his teeth as his vision began to blur. The scene replaying on his mind made his heart clench in pain.

"The fuck was I fooling?" The brunet had muttered to himself as his hands balled into a fist. His knuckles turning white from the action.

"Of course he wouldn't fucking like me like that way," Gavin weakly chuckled to himself as his vision blurred a bit from the upcoming tears that were threatening to fall down his face. "Who was I fooling...?"

 

Gavin gritted his teeth as he remembered that awful memory. The memory where he was ready to tell what he felt to the [Hair color] haired man only to see him asking another friend of his out for a date.

'The worst part was I didn't even got a fucking chance.' The brunet male grit his teeth as his vision began to blur. Gripping the hem of his shirt as he felt his heart clench at remembering the sign him was pinning onto her and the black haired female doing the same.

"God... I'm such an dumbass..." Gavin said to himself as he bit back the sob threatening to escape his lips. His heart clenched painfully from realizing he never, truly had a chance.

"Oh my fucking God! Reed what the fuck?!?" The [Hair color] haired man had screamed as he was on the ground, drenched with the warm coffee he was drinking awhile ago. The brunet merely laughed at the [Hair color] haired man as he clutched his stomach from the pain of laughing too much.

"O-oh my G-god! You s-should've seen your f-face! Priceless!" Gavin rasped out as he wiped a tear from his eyes, having the time of his life the brunet was. [Name] merely rolled his [Eye color] eyes in annoyance as wiped the coffee off his face.

"Yeah, yeah, it was fucking hilarious. Thanks asshole," [Name] had said as he sent the still laughing male a glare. Gavin only sent him a wink as he walked away laughing.

"You love this asshole though!" The brunet had shouted as he walked out the break room to go and get the [Hair color] haired man an extra shirt to wear since he was drenched with the coffee he was drinking awhile ago.

When Gavin had returned with the extra shirt, he saw the new female recruit helping out his friend and partner. The brunet frowned a bit when he saw the female giving the [Hair color] haired man a smile as the male seemed to be flustered a bit. As he watched the two exchange words, Gavin felt really bad about something.

"Hi, I'm Tina Chen." The female, Tina, had said with a smile on her lips as she held her hand towards the [Hair color] haired man who grinned as he grabbed and shook the black haired female's hand.

"Nice to meet you officer Chen. Name's [Name] [Last name]."

Gavin forced himself to try and forget the memories of him pinning over his friend. He tried to desperately forget about them but it always came back. Haunting the brunet in a never ending cycle.

'This was so unfair. So fucking unfair.' Gavin thought as the tears fell down his eyes. Looking at his ceiling, the brunet detective remembered [Name] being so happy when he told the news his date with Tina went well.

Gavin remembered [Name] smiling so happily as he told him that he was in love with the female officer. That this was the first time he felt so strongly with someone.

"I never stood a chance," Gavin weakly chuckled to himself. "How fucking pathetic," Gavin continued as he cried.

Gavin Reed wanted [Name] [Last name]. His partner in crime (both literally and figuratively), his best friend. But he can't have the [Hair color] haired man as when Gavin wanted him— Tina Chen, a friend and fellow officer, needed [Name]. The two were made for each other and they both made each other happy.

The brunet detective remembered Tina being more optimistic in the DPD precinct. More happy to go to work and would come towards him to ask questions on [Name]'s likes and dislikes. The [Hair color] haired man's hobbies and what he looks for a significant lover.

Gavin saw that Tina was making an effort with the courting [Name] was doing for her. Doing things for the [Hair color] haired man aswell like surprising [Name] with his favorite foods or having movie dates in their day offs.

Gavin saw they were making their relationship worth it and he couldn't help but feel happy for them both. No matter how much it hurts him— Gavin Reed merely wanted the [Hair color] haired man. While Tina Chen needed [Name].

And that's where Gavin knew the difference between want and need.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

The past

He didn't liked to fight with you, really... bjt sometimes he forgot how... far away he can be with his emotions.

He was more stuck on his thoughts than he was used to... even Overhaul, his childhood friend, called him out for it. Mimic had to slap the back of his head to make him go back to concentrate on the meeting, even the big boss was getting worried at this point.

The worst part of the day was when you tried to help him with something and he lashed on you.

"Just-!" He breathed in and out with a hand on his head before letting out a chuff and giving your back to you "Just leave me alone. I dont need another headache."

"... fine then Kurono." You hissed his sur name and he winced at the sound of it "I was only trying to help my boyfriend you jerk."

"Whatever. As if I needed some." He waved you off as he heard your scoff, heart cleansing when he just knew you were going to get angry at him, cry because of him.

Fucking idiot...

.

.

.

The man laughed in glory as he stared at the target all pierced with the amount of shots that was hit.

"Ya saw how maany scores your dad did Tiger?!" The man laughed louder as a tony giggle escaped his mouth at enthusiasm of the man.

"Now now..." a femine and more calm voice called from the balcony "We dont want to cause problems to the neighbors now do we? Hajime?"

"Nah!" The man waved with a bark of laughter "If anything I just 'WOSH!" he grabbed him and threw in the air as he catched.

"Dad!" He clinged on his arms but pet put a nervous laughter.

"No using of quirks Hajime..." the woman sighed but soon it looked like she felt a bit dizzy and the man was fast enough to catch her even with him on his arms.

"Ayumi.." the older man spoke on a less happy tone, brows furrowed as he checked the woman's temperature.

"I'm fine Hajime." Despite the pain and fatigue, she still could smile a bit and pinch his cheek "How is my teddy bear doing huh?"

"Mom... are you getting sick?" He mumbled as his father put him on the ground and helped his mother to get up.

"Is just a flu baby. Nothing to worry about." The woman said gently as the man furrowed his eyebrows and looked away.

"When you're going to get better?"

"Soon, Hari. Mommy is going to get better soon."

.

.

.

He sighed, hand resting on the balcony as he stared at the city... the sky was with a beautiful shade of orange, indicating that soon night time he was going to take some rest at least.

He took off his gun out of his pocket to inspect...but his mind was in other place as he furrowed his eyebrows at it.

.

.

.

"This is a very well gift of your old man to ya tiger, I need you to take care of it." The man gave the gun, unloaded, to the boy as he furrowed his eyebrows at it.

"When you're going to get back?" The boy mumbled as the man sighed, patted his shoulder and got his suitcase and a hat, smirking sadly at the boy on the entrance.

"See ya soon... Hari."

His father never called him Hari.... it was always a nickname ... something wasted right... and before he could reach the door to tell him to wait the door was closed on his face.

"Hari..." he heard the call of his mother and he immediatly dropped the gun, grabbing the tray where it contained a plate of food, a cup of water and inumerous pills he didn't know for what.

"I am here." He mumbled, entering the room as the sickly woman giggled, her usually bright with life now it seemed drained out of energy and... everything.

"You sound like All Might there baby.." he frowned as he took a seat besides the woman.

"You won't eat?"

"Dont have energies to do it hun... I actually called you here for other thing... " the woman got up slowly on her elbows just to drink the water and the pills.

He could see her bones... it wasn't normal... none of that was. His father leaving without a explanation, his mom didn't ever got better from thsi flu... what the hell was even happening?!

"Hari..." she carresed his cheek, knowing already of his quirk "You are such a beautiful and little gentleman you know that?"

He pursed his lips... he didn't liked where this story was going.

"Despite having my character and appearance you still got daddy's eyes and quirk that I love so so much." She mused before quickly grabbing a napkin and having a fit of coughing.

"Mom..?" He said and widened his eyes in horror at seing a bit of red on the white napkin...

"Sweety... remember that talk me and your daddy had? About a beautiful place where nana went?" He nodded as she gave him a hearted yet sad smile "Mommy is soon going to met nana once again!"

"Can I come too?" He asked while fisting the sheets as the woman shaked her head before cupping his cheek.

"I'm afraid not honey.. you still have so many years here."

"You too!" He exclaimed as the woman brought him to a hug, he could feel her ribcage and her shoulder blade yet he hugged her trembling.

"No honey... mommy has to go met nana." She said with a sad smile while carresing his back "baby, you would like to live with your uncles?"

"No!" He exclaimed, fist clenching on her clothing as he cried "I want to stay like it was before! You and daddy!"

"... daddy is not coming back sweety..." she said painfully as he widened his eyes "That's why I want you to stay with your uncles.."

"But-!" She shushed him quietly and weakly.

"Please... be good to your uncles... promise me?" She lifted up her bony arm with her pinky out as he sniffled and wiped his face with the back of his hoodie and interlocked his pinky with her.

"Okay..."

"That's my brave boy..." she cupped his face "You're such a good boy Hari..."

.

.

.

The punching bag was almost disfigured from how much he had used so far.

"Angry today buddy?" Rappa asked while rolling his arms to strech some bones of his shoulder.

"Could say that." He mumbled with a nonchantly look before hearing Overhaul voice calling for him.

"Go on. Overjerk is calling for you man."

Nodding towards Rappa, he grabbed his coat and got out from the hide out and met with Chisaki leaning on the door frame with a nonchantly look.

"Listen, I knew that I fuck up." He lifted his hands up as Chisaki only arched a eyebrow but soon mentioned with his gaze at the door of his dorm. "... ah."

"Not even me get my past get the best of me blockhead." He muttered nonchantly before turning his back to him and waving "I dont want to see that partner of yours crying their eyes out, it makes me sick."

"Oh fuck off, what doesn't make you sick dude?" He muttered before gulping at the death glare he received.

Cursed hearing of his...

He sighed before knocking, seing your face before you quickly turned it away from him and layed down.

"...(Y/n)... Can we talk for a bit?"

.

.

.

"You forgot to clean that place." His uncle muttered while couting some bills as he glared at the bloody wall.

"Why I am the one to clean this?"

"Because you are living with us? Maybe?" His aunt spoke while putting on a necklace of pearls on her neck as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"... You two live well. Why couldn't you help my mom? Or my dad?"

The woman laughed as the man sighed, grabbing harshly on his shoulder and making him turn his front to him.

"Your father was a mere thief that couldn't even provide for my sister. And was her fault to get sick this way, if she hadn't turned out to be such a bitch, agreed to her arrangment marriage and hadn't stormed off with that Kurono guy she would be out of those fucking problems."

His eyes narrowed while clenching his jaw, grabbing the gun his father gave to him before leaving and pointing at the male.

"You can say whatever you want about my dad but NOT about my mom!" He growled as the woman shriek in fear at seing a child with a gun as the man raised his hands up before smirking.

"You dont even know how to use this thing brat."

He quickly took the ammunition he had stolen from his uncle's office and with enormous accuracy he shot it an inch away from his head. The woman letting out a scream again as the male widened his eyes at him.

"My dad at least did a good thing on teaching me how to use a gun at the age of three." He said with anger as he lowered a bit his gun before a bunch of man, wearing suits invaded the house and pinned both his uncle and aunt on the ground as he in fear got hidden behind the kitchen counter.

"You both think is funny taking advantege and being in debt with the yakusa huh?" A much older voice spoked up as he peaked one eye to see a man with white hair glaring at both of his uncle and aunt.

"P-Please sir we were going to pay-"

"Liars." A man lowered one pocketknife onto his uncle shoulder as he put his hands over his eyes as he flinched at the shout of pain it came after "you even went to the cops to tell about our plan in order to some money... and I lost a bunch of capable man and it will cost a millions of yen to get every single one of them out of jail."

"Boss!" He shriek when a man found him "We have anothe-" without thinking a strand of his arrow hair shot and cutted the man's cheek, the poor guy being immobilized and falling onto the floor.

A bunch of guns and males with attacking quirks aimed at him as he trembling picked the gun again and pointed at least of one of them.

"Don't shoot you idiots! Is a kid!"

"Yeah but he is got a gun!"

The man glared at them and in one motion all the guns were lowered, yet he didn't lowered his one still.

"Hey, kid... no one is going to hurt you, relax." He soon directed his gaze at the couple on the floor "Whose is this? I thought neither of you wanted a child."

"Is my sister's son with a thief rat." The man growled as his wife helped him with his missing fingers "That little shit died and gave him to us."

"I asked for his name imbecile." The man growled as his uncle yelped and bowed to him.

"K-Kurono Hari master!"

"... Kurono, huh?" The man looked at him as he still had a firm grasp on his gun "Say kid... you know how to deal with those I see, those these two treat you well?" His gaze fell on his uncles before he shaked his head.

"... How about an offer then?"

.

.

.

"So this makes kinda you and Overhaul brothers huh?" You giggled at the glare he gave to you before he flipped your head.

"You're the worst. I tell you this all shit and-" he stopped talking and gasped when you hugged him tightly, grazing your nails into his back much like his own mother would do.

"I get it Hari, and I'm not mad at you..." you kissed his neck and sighed "Just rely on me more often okay? Instead of being a dick."

"... yeah. I will." He hugged you back as he smirked, at least he knew he had a home of his own. You. You were his home.

.

.

.

(A/n): this was shitty, I know. But it was what came to my mind. Forgive me. I didn't do justice for arrow haired man... ;-;

[xanderwithanx]

Chloe does night-time diary posts on HER tumblr, so I'm going to start doing them here, sometimes. It would be nice if you read it, but, please, don't feel obligated! This is more for me to write.

(I got tired of my normal journal, I guess. It's full of bad poetry anyway. Besides, where's the thrill of losing anonymity in a physical notebook?)

I've basically been asleep and depressed for several days, because I had withdrawal after not being able to get my adhd meds. But, I got it today, and DID THINGS. (This is SO much better than before!)

Today, I went to a small café or restaurant (focused on tea) called Alice's Teacup that was Alice in Wonderland themed! My long-standing obsession with Alice in Wonderland knows no bounds. It was a really cute place. I got pumpkin pancakes, and some really good iced tea. Like... REALLY good iced tea.

Still, it seemed like the entire place was geared towards having a pot of tea and snacks with your friends, which left me a bit lonely. The person I asked couldn't come, and by the time I heard back, I was more than halfway there. Still, I read Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and watched Monty Python on my phone, so I still had a good time!

I dressed pretty eccentricly and effeminately all day, but, with my facial hair, I was ALWAYS coded as a man, even by people on the street! Pastels, a stupid hat, a crop top, and facial hair was a winning combination.

On my way, I was stopped by some guys soliciting for charity. I don't make a habit of stopping for strangers on the streets of Manhattan. What if it's a scam? What if I'm being pressured to buy something? What if it's a strange political rant? But, I had already taken my earbuds off, I wasn't in a hurry, and I'm terminally polite. The first guy said he liked my energy, which seemed to come from a genuine place, because I liked his too!

They were asking for donations for a breast cancer charity, the United Breast Cancer Foundation. After a discussion, it seems like the charity helps pay medical debt, medical bills, and other practical needs, which is much better than *some* others I could name. I regretted not being able to give their minimum there, as it was pretty high, but told them I'd give what I could when I got on the website.

I... did not. Money is tight, because I'm bad and irresponsible with money, even though this is more than a worthy cause. I didn't NEED to go to that tea place, and I don't NEED to spend so much money on food. Sure, I can justify it: I wanted to go to that place for so long, and it was near the college anyway! But, if I was responsible with money, you KNOW my friends direct fundraising drives would go first, worthy charities second. Still, I feel bad about it.

Then, I went to the college library, to get books to start my thesis research. I have literally been unable to go to the college itself, aside from getting my ID, so this was great! There just wasn't a reason. It was... very empty. I went to the library stacks, which was deathly quiet and deeply haunted by the old books. I half expected something to pop out at me, as I turned the stacks, but I wasn't even paranoid or anxious. It was like I was in something else's house. I was welcome, but on thin ice.

I picked up an irrelevant psychology book on the "schizophrenia problem" from the 1930s, out of morbid fascination, and quickly put it down when it threatened to shatter in my hands.

Some students walked past (which was a suprise in those monastic basement library stacks), and I added something to their conversation, in a totally natural and casual way. But, omg the poor girls, I made them jump! Luckily, I'm the least threatening person on earth, and we laughed it off.

After a lot of hunting, I got 5 out of my 10 books (for the most part)! (The rest are, sadly, online. I like to read physical copies.) Strangely, I only came in with a list to get 3 books out of 6.

Most of the books I got are about art in the AIDS crisis, which is the core of my thesis, I think, all with different value. One about exhibitions, one about the larger narrative of those gay artists, and another contradicting the larger narrative.

I also got a book about "Art and Homosexuality". Just, the parallel construction of both "art" and "homosexuality" across cultures and times, from earliest history to the modern age. It wasn't on my initial list, but I'm really excited to read it.

Finally, I got a book called "The Thief, the Cross and the Wheel", about the pain and spectacle of punishment in Medieval and Renaissance European art. I'm mainly interested in Italian Renaissance art of the crucifixion--and its masochism--for the second quarter of my thesis.

The rest are online, and Should mostly focus on Bacchus in the Italian Renaissance (especially through art) and what I call the art of "gay liberation", concurrent with the AIDS crisis (i.e. The Cockettes). These two topics make up the last half of my thesis.

I'm SO excited to get started!!

I even got to cross the college's sky-bridges! (The college is a few skyscrapers.) Still, the loneliness and novelty were kind of the same thought. Imagine if I had been here before COVID, or, if COVID hadn't happened. Who would I have been able to meet? What would the college buildings mean to me? Because, for now, they're just buildings. But, I got to see the street from above, and that was amazing!

Just walking through New York--the Upper East Side--on a cool, sunny day was beautiful. It takes 20-30 minutes to get from my place to the college (and the tea place), but it was great being able to listen to my music (a lot of They Might Be Giants on the playlist today) and see the city. You know, people, super cool old architecture being pushed out by terrible new architecture, and pigeons.

Oh my god, the pigeons. I took pictures, but none of them are good. I kept thinking about how pigeons and doves are functionally the same. We domesticated pigeons, which is why they're here, and no one is stopping to notice them? Even the ones that were splotched with pure white, like doves? There's only so many pigeons you can take until they're just white noise and a nuisance, I know, so don't think I'm blaming anyone! But it's so hard to look away from these quirky little birds.

Also, at one point my walk, I was vaping very strategicly. The mental task of searching through library stacks will do that to you, when you already have an addiction to nicotine. I made sure no one was around, and no one would be affected. I stopped on a corner next to an old, ornate Catholic church while the traffic light changed, and I almost juuled right next to a priest! I'm glad I stopped. I don't believe in Hell, but, I would have walked down there myself had I vaped at a priest. Still, the church advertised itself as LGBT+ friendly, so maybe they aren't so trigger happy on the damnation. Either way, I DIDN'T vape at a priest today, which is good.

Once I got back, I spent a few hours watching things with my amazing girlfriend Chloe, who you may know here as @cisphobiccommunistopinions. She is so beautiful, and I love her more every day, every time I see her. God, it's almost been 5 years!

I just wish I could spend more time with her. She's in Virginia, and I'm in New York. Like she said to me earlier, I'm flighty at the best of times, and, with my lack of object permanence for the digital world, I find myself not giving her the attention I deserve, or, the full connection I long to have with her. We used to live together. Luckily, someday we will live together again! All these problems won't be forever, and we can live together again.

We watched a lot of things, but we're pretty deep into Serial Experiments Lain right now. It's a postmodern anime from the 90s, and, wow, do I have no idea what's going on in it. It's about the internet, and potentially schizophrenia as well. However, I'm obsessed! One day I'll be able to crack this artistic code, and it's unreality, thematic knots, and double-meanings. I will probably understand it better on the second watch. I don't see myself in Lain, but I see my 14 year old self in her, when I had just developed schizophrenia. Her cyberpunk fate seems like it's railroaded towards tragedy, but I want to save her, even if it's silly and irrational.

I told Chloe that I was scared about spilling apple cider on my library books, and she referred to it as "The Great Apple Juice Disaster of September 11, 2021." To which I said that it was the second worst thing to happen in New York on that date. It was funnier if you were there, and also were in my brain at the time.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm meeting some online acquaintances from the college's "Queer Srudent Union" at a Japanese Culture Fair in a park. (I do not know which park.) It emphasizes "fun"! I don't know them very well, but they're friends with the one person I know irl, so it should be good.

Tomorrow night, I should Probably head downtown to check out a gallery show by MFA (masters of fine arts) students at Hunter! After all, I was in a group project with one of them, and they're absolutely brilliant. I missed the Thursday gallery opening by a landslide, because of the aforementioned lack of adhd meds and Being Asleep, which I infinitely regret. I could have listened to all the artists and curators talk about their art and exhibition! Maybe I could have even talked with the artists and curators. But, it's best for me to go sooner, rather than later, so I don't forget. And, I REALLY want to go.

It's "This dialogue which happened to be present in all other dialogues" at the Alyssa Davis Gallery. From the email I got, "Each of these works observes a threshold of transition. [...] [These] intimations [are] of a frame of mind shared by the artists. These works perform, record, access, engage, document, and entrap, embalming the viewer within the gallery space."

sgp is a really good artist, by the way. Their work is just next-level. Be sure to check out their art, if you have a chance. Let me link their portfolio: https://saragracepowell.com/

(I highly suspect spg and the other member of my group project ghosted me afterwards, but I understand. I was really in over my head. Still, they're both really sweet and kind people, don't get it twisted!)

I ALSO really want to see The Cake Boys. They're performing at the 3 Dollar Bill in Brooklyn on September 26th. (It's only $15!) They're the only all drag king collective in NYC! (Are... there any Other all drag king collectives out there?) Other than the fact that a lot of them are trans or nonbinary, which I love, this show is a totally non-judgmental competition for over 40 drag kings! I've heard their shows are hilarious and unique.

I just have to wait until I have $15 to spare. I... didn't eat dinner tonight, because I'm irresponsible with my money and don't want to ask my parents for money... again. Don't worry, it's literally fine, and I don't make a habit of doing this!

Which reminds me! For my birthday, my parents gave me a gift card to Lush! I'm definitely going to Lush tomorrow, which will be great. I would describe my personality as "Lush store employee acosting you about a bath bomb demonstration", so I'll fit right in.

I also made a transition timeline, to show how much I've changed on testosterone. For the better, I hope! I really believe I'm becoming, if not Have Become, the man I was always meant to be. It's so strange to look back at who I was not too long ago, and to know the absolute pain I was in. It's also strange, in a good way, to see the man looking back at me in the selfies. I'm so much happier now! Much more candid in my pictures, at least. But, I know that I'm so much more comfortable as myself than I was even 6 months ago. It's strange. Sometimes I think to myself, "I don't pass yet; I'm not who I Need To Be yet." Then, I look at my selfie from today, and... I'm THERE. My mind just hasn't caught up with my amazing, natural, normal reality.

The end. I have to get ready for bed, (even though I could be partying on a Saturday night in the city. I'm lame.) If you actually read this, I am kissing you on the mouth right now. I hope it made you calm down tonight, like a terrible bedtime story. If you didn't read it and just skipped to the end, don't worry: you did the rational thing.

[greycappedjester]

Hi I'm so sorry I'm just too shy to ask this on ao3 but I was wondering: how is Slade's relationship with Dick? I don't mind them as a ship in general but in the story sometimes I feel like Slade gets too close to Dick and I thought if there was something platonic on his side? I'm sure you wouldn't do that in the story that's why I'm asking if it's only on Slade's side. Sorry if this is a stupid question lol. Maybe it's just because I've read sl/adedick fics before. ^^D

Nah, I’ve actually been waiting for someone to ask about that. So....it’s complicated and will take awhile to explain so I’m putting it under a Read More before I get too long winded with my character headcanons:

This is going to get soooooo long, lol, so feel free to skim. Warning for Gotham in general and Gotham being naturally a bad place for kid vigilantes to grow up in. Also because this explanation gets somewhat dark in character interpretation....

Bonus short story at the end after a really long post.

-------

Alright, so first, I feel like I should mention again that I never watched the Teen Titans animated show past maybe the first two episodes and the movie my friends wanted me to watch that I don’t really remember. (I meant to watch that show, just never got around to it). I say this because I heard that the Teen Titans TV show portrayed the Dick and Deathstroke relationship much differently in a way that’s cool and fine but not something I can see myself really wanting to write about. I know their relationship more from comics where Dick was already an adult (albeit a young adult) when he first met Slade. 

So. Back to my After the Fall of Olympus universe and yeah, I’m slowly getting to my answer. The thing is....the story is entirely in Dick’s POV right now.

And Dick’s absolutely terrible at reading and picking up any form of affection others have for him. He understands it abstractly (he knows people care) but when assessing, he critically underestimates it if he remembers to account for it at all. This goes even worse with people he’s closer to--which is why it took him forever to realize why Jason actually did want to stay with him at the manor and why he still has no idea Barbara is in love with him. Even Kory who was really, really direct about liking him, it took him years to fully emotionally process and respond to that. He’s getting better...but remembering his own value (in others eyes) isn’t something he’s overwhelming good at doing.

My headcanon, he is abnormally good at reading people and picking up basic sexual attraction. He’s good at telling when he’s being flirted with or when people are attracted to him and, honestly, Dick’s charismatic and instinctively a flirt, too.With that, partly from growing up in Gotham with its weird and supremely dark villains, I think Dick very much divorces the two concepts of romantic attraction and sexual flirting in his mind--he’s aware they can go together, obviously with Kory--but he doesn’t naturally pair them as other people probably would. It’s also part of why he just doesn’t get the level of concern Tim has about Catalina.

Okay, back to my point.

The way I write Slade and Dick’s relationship is actually mostly done off screen. But, I think Slade started with approval of Dick’s skills and potential in a clinical/objective view, growing respect and interest (personal but not at all romantic) in him as a person, and much more recently in the story (as in that last conversation he had in Ch. 18), I think Slade realized he has some legitimate attraction and cares a lot about Dick in a way that’s probably romantic.

Slade also is very, very aware immediately that he’s not going to do anything with that and, in a way, doesn’t want to because Dick ever responding to that would be jeopardizing his relationship with his family, his team, his view of his morals (which are so integral to Dick) in a way that would be exceptionally out of character and concerning coming from Dick. In other words, something happening would be a lot more terrifying than nothing happening and Slade cares.

For Dick, it’s a lot more simple. He does not have any romantic feelings there. He does in a somewhat analytical, unconscious way recognize that Slade’s probably attracted to him (probably before Slade noticed honestly) but he’s....well, kind of used to that at some level. More so, Dick doesn’t connect it to emotional care and--like with everyone else--vastly underestimates that Slade does care about him in a way that’s actually pretty selfless for a mercenary. For a romance, your guess is absolutely right, it’s not going to go anywhere in this series but I wanted the undertones and implications to be there in the final third of the story

....But, that’s also more of a later/recent development in that relationship. For most of the story that’s posted so far, Slade sees his relationship with Dick as a lot of respect and even care but not as romantic in any way. I can promise no romantic undertones at all until Dick was already in his 20s because I really, really am not interested in writing underage. (for those curious about Slade’s age in the story, I think of him as mid-20s in his introduction in Year 3 and pretty early 30s here to Dick’s early 20s)

Above everything, they respect each other and would be almost friends if that were possible.

The team and his family doesn’t know any of this.

Anyway, that was long, so here’s a bonus short story from Slade’s view. I write a lot of After the Fall of Olympus short stories in other charcter’s views that I’m not planning on posting until After the Fall of Olympus.

This one’s between Year 5 and 6 and is titled “October 7th”:

-------

It’s October 7th, almost two in the morning, and Slade’s camped out in a somehow still standing bombed out apartment in a no-name village in the middle of a war-torn country.

He’s not exactly expecting visitors.

There’s a knock on the apartment door.

Slade cocks his gun and puts two rounds in the door before, for good measure, adding matching ones on either side of the frame.

He has two seconds to let himself pretend that’s the end of it before the door knob turns to the unmistakable sound of a skilled lock pick. 

Fuck, he’s too tired for this shit today. 

“Geeze, Slade, what if I’d been an innocent civilian?”

Slade’s hand stills on the gun in surprise then consideration before slowly slipping it back into the holster. 

“Kid,” he greets. “There’s no innocent civilians left around here. ‘Specially ones that can make it to my door without me hearing any footsteps.”

“I’ve been working on that.” Dick says, walking into the apartment. He isn’t even wearing his uniform, just plain black military style clothes with the lower half of his face covered by a piece of cloth. He pushes it down and smiles as he presses the door shut behind him. “You did tell me to get better, after all.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he mutters without much heat. “You getting better almost left me out of a job.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Please, as if both of us don’t know Luthor could’ve gotten out of those charges in months. If the Light didn’t erase them for him, anyway.”

Slade shrugs. Maybe another time, he’d find the energy to banter back. But not today. Never today.

“Why are you here, Dick? How’d you find me?”

The smile slides off of Dick’s face, leaving behind those far too heavy eyes to belong to an eighteen year old.

“You know I have your file, Slade.” Dick clears his throat. “I know what day it is.”

….Fuck.

It’s not like he expected anything else. Not since the moment he saw the kid. But, still...he doesn’t want to deal with this. Doesn’t want to deal with anything. Today, he just wants to crawl back into the worst, most deserted corner of the world he can find until the hours creep passed and he can find the energy to move.

Instead, he glares. “Good for you. Now get the fuck out, kid.”

Dick grimaces but shakes his head. “Not until you answer a question for me.”

Slade groans and, for a handful of seconds, honestly contemplates just killing him, considers it in a way that he hasn’t since before he even met the kid, back when he was first handed a file by a practically no name organization called H.I.V.E.

He’d regret it later. Sure. He has too much he wants to see out of the kid to kill him in a shitty, dusty apartment. But, that regret would come later. Later, once this day had finally passed.

That alone is almost enough to have him reaching for his gun. Almost

“Grayson,” he finally grounds out, “if you know what day it is, you know I’m not exactly inclined to play our game of hero and villain right now. You want information, find someone else.”

“Good, I’m not here to play either. Only problem is I can’t ask anyone else, you're the only one who knows the answer.” Dick lowers himself to sit on the floor across from him, like a particularly stupid mouse in front of a viper.

And then, he looks up and his eyes are too steady to belong to prey.

“Here’s the question: Do you really want to be alone today, Slade?”

The breath catches in Slade’s`lungs, harsher than if the kid had just punched him.

He pushes the reaction down, already knowing it’s too late, and says in the steadiest voice he can manage, “Yes.”

Dick stares at him, unmoving. “I don’t believe you.”

The air around them is too tight, too burning, and Slade’s being pushed down under it to suffocate. 

He can’t fight it, so he takes it and pushes it back into anger. “The fuck, kid! What do you know?  You said you have my file, yeah? How long have you had it? Because I’m betting you’ve had it since we first met!” He lunges forward. “So, why are you here now, Dick? What makes this year so special? What’s made you decide to pretend to care now? Because whatever it is, kid, I can promise you, I’m not worth it. So, leave!”

By the end, he’s gripping Dick’s shirt, pulling it tighter until the collar has to be digging painfully into his neck. 

Dick doesn’t look away. “No.”

Slade doesn’t look away either. “You know I really think I might kill you right now.”

“You won’t.”

 One of Slade’s hands moves until it’s pressing into the kid’s neck. A single sharp twist and he could snap it. “So sure?”

Dick nods.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I brought your favorite whiskey.”

A brown bag is pressed into Slade’s ribs and the man feels something rising in his chest that could possibly be laughter if it was some other time.

He drops the kid.

He takes the bag.

“Pretty sure heroes aren’t supposed to be contributing to alcoholism, kid.” He gestures to a half empty bottle of much cheaper stuff beside him.

Dick coughs, rubbing at his throat. “Please. With your metahuman metabolism, I bet you can barely feel it for an hour.”

“Depends how much I drink,” Slade counters, eyeing the bottle. “How’d you know my favorite?”

Dick shrugs. “Gotta keep some secrets to myself.”

He fishes out a spare shot glass from somewhere in the black folds of his outfit and pours a small glass for himself. 

Slade raises an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, you’re still 18, kid.”

Dick gives him an incredulous look in return. “Last time I checked, this place doesn’t have a drinking age...or a government, actually.”

Slade hums, amused, using a larger glass for himself. “True, but thought you’d be following the laws of your own birth city a little closer, hero. Gotham’s still at 21...on the record at least.”

“Technically, Gotham’s not my birth city.” Dick snorts and takes the shot. 

Slade tilts his head. “Where were you born?”

Dick pauses, thinking, before offering a sheepish smile. “You know….I actually have no idea. Somewhere in Europe, probably? I came early, the circus was still on tour. One of the lion tamers helped deliver me, used to be a doctor.”

“Always a surprise, kid,” Slade shakes his head, draining his glass. Tasting it in his mouth and pretending it’s enough to wash away the ash.

The next words come before he can stop them.  “...Adeline always wanted two kids.”

Dick goes quiet.

“Of course,” Slade says to his glass and fuck it, just fuck it,  “turns out we didn’t even get the one. Turns out I didn’t get either my wife or my son.”

Fuck, he hates October 7th.

He reaches for the whiskey, ignoring how his hand shakes. “Addy was a soldier, you know? A good one. Of all the stupid fucking ways she could go, I never thought it’d be childbirth. Maybe I should have. Always knew I’d kill her somehow.”

“You didn’t kill her, Slade,” Dick says softly.

“Sure. Whatever,” he agrees, too tired to argue. It’s not as if he hasn’t heard every variation sometime or another. It’s just right now, he can’t quite bring himself to debate about the cause when the end of it’s always going to be the same.

Dick drops the subject and the relief that Slade feels  is immense enough that it’s close to gratitude.

“What was your son’s name?”

“Grant. We were going to name him Grant.” He takes another sip. “If we had another one, we were going to name him Joseph. Or Rose for a girl.”

“Those are good names.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

Slade doesn’t answer, looking up to eye the kid over his drink. Dick sees it, holding up his own glass in acknowledgement before knocking it back.

“Why are you here, kid,” Slade asks again. “We’re not friends, pretty far fucking from it last time I checked.”

“I’ve got my reasons,” he answers calmly.

“If you’re here to make your usual sales pitch about the virtues of heroism, I really will kill you. Whiskey or not.”

Dick shakes his head. “....is it so hard to believe I just didn’t think you should be alone?”

Slade thinks his skepticism is loud enough without him needing the words.

The look Dick gives him is steady in return. “Think what you want to, Slade, I know what grief feels like. It’s a poison. It’ll kill you unless you find a way to drain it.” 

Dick looks down at his own glass and Slade gets the feeling the kid’s no longer talking about just Slade. It’s still a tossup whether he means himself or the Bat.

Either way, Slade makes sure his next smirk is particularly pointed. “And, look at you. Tracking me all the way down here to try and save my tortured soul. Such a hero.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dick says with an eye roll, pouring himself another drink

Slade cocks his head. “Speaking of, don’t all the good little heroes have school right about now.”

Dick looks up, almost sheepish. “I’m ditching my classes. Don’t tell my brothers, I’m still trying to be a good influence.”

Slade snorts and takes a particularly long swig.

A good influence. As if a single one of his stupid, fucking team doesn’t think the fricking sun shines out of the kid’s ass.

Fuck. What is Slade even doing? Sitting in a run down apartment in the middle of a warzone drinking whiskey with a too trusting kid a decade younger and that he probably should have killed years ago.

But, then, it’s always been exceedingly difficult for him to do what he should---what’s the sane and logical thing--when it comes to Dick Grayson. And, one day--when he doesn’t have the burn of booze sitting in his gut and his chest doesn’t ache like he’s been shot--Slade’s going to take a hard look at why that is.

For now, he’ll just leave it like he usually does. The kid’s too interesting to die yet. 

Dick eyes his shot glass, contemplatively. “This whiskey’s way too overpriced, Slade. It’s practically aged vodka.”

Slade finishes his off steadily. “Shows you have little taste, Grayson.”

Dick laughs and slides the bottle over. “I brought another one anyway.”

....Far, far too interesting.

[makeste]

Who is the bitch in the first year hero courses most down for murder, do you think? Surprisingly, despite being the only one to actually MAKE death threats, I'm mot sure Bakugou is all that high up there? When you've got Todo freezing people from the inside out, Mushroom Girl choking people, Honenuki drowning people and dropping industrial chimneys on them etc etc... What would your rankings be?

what better way to spend a Sunday evening than by ranking all of U.A.’s first-year students by murder.

disclaimer: I am doing this for fun and this entire post is ridiculous so please do not take it too seriously. also just a heads up, this post contains some recent manga spoilers as well as a couple of spoilers for Heroes Rising. now then, let’s quantify these bloodthirsty little savages.

okay so despite being entirely too plus ultra for their own good, approximately 99% of these kids would never dream of doing any kind of permanent harm to another living being. so I’m just listing the first thirty in no particular order, and then we’ll get to ranking the top ten.

Aoyama

despite having that brief moment in chapter 167 where virtually everyone thought he was a serial killer, Aoyama is actually a good boy. a bit stalkerish, maybe.

Mina

Mina did dream up that one attack where Ochako floats her up in the air so that she can rain acid down on people, which is slightly homicidal. but she’s not a killer. honestly if she was we’d all be dead already. see: thicc Girl Noumu.

Tsuyu

if Tsuyu had ever killed someone she would have already told everyone all about it because she is open about these things so safe to say she is not a killer.

Ochako

all Ochako wants to do is help and support people. she can be pretty hardcore from time to time but my baby girl would never. not to say that villain wouldn’t be a good look on her. I still get a shiver up my spine remembering that one time Toga turned into her and demonstrated exactly how deadly her quirk could be.

Ojiro

nah. the worst thing Ojiro has ever done was throwing his empty plain yogurt cup into the wrong recycling bin by accident, and he felt terrible about it afterward.

Kaminari

real talk, Kaminari could very easily kill a ton of people with his quirk if he actually tried. but he hasn’t, because he is only two and is too busy learning his shapes and colors and leaving his lego duplo blocks all over the carpet for other people to trip on.

Kirishima

do I even have to justify this at all. duh Kirishima doesn’t murder people sorry to anyone who came into this post all excited to read a big paragraph going off about Kiri’s raw bloodlust. I don’t know what you expected.

Kouda

Kouda is probably deadlier than everyone thinks. imagine him commanding, say, a mob of giant hornets to swarm and kill someone. it’s a good thing he wouldn’t actually hurt a fly.

Satou

I sat here for a while thinking about what I could say about Satou. but just. can you picture him killing a guy? nah, me neither.

Shouji

one of the things I like about Shouji is that he looks older than he is, and kind of creepy, what with the masked face and the freaky tentacle arms and all the like. and so he very likely experienced some of that good old fashioned quirk racism growing up, and people were afraid of him and/or thought he would become a villain. but instead he decided to become a hero. and I think that says so much about Shouji’s character. it reminds me a lot of Shinsou; his desire to become a hero was so strong that he overcame prejudice and circumstances which could just have easily have led to him becoming a villain (and in fact, it’s not all that different from some of the actual villain backstories). anyway so yeah no murder for him.

Jirou

I think she would consider killing anyone who ever hurt Momo or Kami, but aside from that NO because she is a good pure girl who loves music and rocking out and putting smiles on people’s faces.

Sero

poor Sero is so not-murdery that when he does get pitted against someone with more murdery energy such as Todoroki, he basically gets immediately overwhelmed and everyone is just kind of wincing and then timidly applauding him and saying “good try.” that’s Sero’s life. he would just sit there and get murdered rather than going in for the kill. he’s a good bro.

Mineta

needs several restraining orders filed against him, but wouldn’t actually kill someone.

Momo

well one time she did explode a grenade in Aizawa’s face. but no.

Awase

now we have come to the 1-B kids. I will give brief descriptions in case you, like me, sometimes have trouble remembering their names. so, Awase! the welding, Momo-rescuing one. he is not murdery.

Sen

the rotating limbs one. one of the least murdery kids in the fairly murderous 1-B on account of his quirk is just too ridiculous. sorry Sen.

Kuroiro

the Tokoyami one. more likely to bore you to tears talking about death than actually kill someone. which is too bad because he honestly would make a pretty bitching assassin.

Kendou

would say she’s probably in the top fifteen. god I love her quirk so much. just want her to slap some bitches to death. but she probably wouldn’t.

Shishida

the growly monster one. he does get some bonus points for tending to lose control once he goes full beastmode and werewolfs out. and he is fairly deadly.

Shouda

the roly poly double smashy one. it’s actually only a matter of time before Shouda kills someone, most likely. his quirk is way too dangerous, and the thing is, it’s probably hard for him to tell how dangerous a particular impact is going to be beforehand. one of these days it’s gonna be way stronger than he intends and somebody’s neck is gonna get snapped.

Pony

never forget that time Pony stabbed Ojiro and Shouji like a dozen times and everybody was just cool with it.

Tsuburaba

the air platform one. he did try to suffocate Kouda that one time.

Tetsutetsu

only if he’s fighting Shouto. or teamed up with Shouto. then all bets are off as to whether or not he’s going to drill his superheated steel fist right through somebody’s face.

Tokage

the severed limbs one. she just has kind of a murdery vibe to her. stalking everyone with her various body parts. yuuugh. I bet if she did kill someone nobody would ever be able to prove it was her.

Manga

the speech bubble head one. is going to destroy so much public and private property once he’s set loose on the streets. but no deaths.

Bondo

the glue one. and nah, Bondo is cool.

Koudai

the Ant-Man one. doesn’t strike me as particularly murderous, I even went and reread her part of the joint training arc to confirm it. she’s fine.

Rin

the kung fu dragon one. not especially murdery. overall probably one of the least bloodthirsty in class 1-B in fact.

Shiozaki

the vines one. she’s extremely murdery. I can’t be the only one who thinks that, can I? Shiozaki scares the shit out of me. if I were Kaminari I would have nightmares about her.

Monoma

would murder every single member of class 1-A if he could. would be the criminal in a Detective Conan two-parter. would give a long monologue about always being the side character and never in the starring role until one day he finally couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. why does his hero costume make it look as though he’s going to steal a bunch of famous jewels out from under everyone’s noses. nah but I’m just kidding and Monoma would never actually kill someone. but one day he’s probably going to be framed for murder by a villain and Kendou and Shinsou will have to team up to defend him and catch the real culprit.

10. Yanagi

the creepy pale ghost-girl-looking one. contrary to what you are probably all thinking, her high ranking isn’t just because of her general horror film vibe, but also because she attempted to bludgeon Mina to death during the joint battle arc. but also yes it is because of her general horror film vibe.

9. Kamakiri

the stabby one. he’s up here because I’m pretty sure he tried to kill Jirou that one time. like what was he even gonna do if Bakugou hadn’t stepped in. though to be fair I don’t think he actually had his knives out at the time so maybe he was just gonna elbow her in the face or something idk.

8. Bakugou

I agree with you that Bakugou is much more bark than bite, anon. and not only is he remarkably careful and precise with his quirk and good at avoiding any collateral damage (and even better IMO ever since his supplementary training), I think that due to his various struggles with being perceived as a villain and also trying to find his own understanding of what being a hero means, he’s probably more self-aware than most of the other kids at this point when it comes to matters of “is this morally okay.” so in spite of his generally violent demeanor, I very much doubt he ever would or could actually kill someone. but he’s in the top ten because his high shounen protagonist levels do place him in the “would potentially go apeshit if and when something happened to someone he cares about” category, though. and also because he and Deku did basically attempt to disintegrate Nine, and then when Nine just dropped off the face of the earth afterwards, no one even bothered to wonder what had happened to him. which leads me to wonder if Deku and Katsuki straight up assume they did in fact kill him and just dgaf.

7. Deku

see above re: Nine. and also he may have to kill AFO one day. so while he probably wouldn’t be happy about it, I think he could still potentially do it. and also because he absolutely does lose his gotdamn mind every time someone hurts one of his friends, and especially Kacchan, and I could picture him just snapping if something really awful ever actually did happen. I don’t think it would in canon because it’s just way too dark, but I don’t think it’d be out of character if he did.

6. Iida

literally tracked down the villain who attacked his brother with the full intent of personally killing said villain once he got his hands on him. true, Shouto and Deku talked him out of it in the end, but still. that was some real motherfucking killing intent. also I will never forget the image of this kid sitting his ass down in middle of the woods and mutilating his own goddamn body without any anesthesia. listen, everyone. just please, for your own safety, do not fuck with Iida.

5. Shouto

and now we reach the top five. listen, feel free to disagree, but I stand firm in my belief that out of all the non-traitor and non-demon-possessed children in class 1-A, Todoroki Shouto is absolutely the most likely to straight up just kill a bitch one day. this boy froze a man from the inside out until a tower of fucking ice was jutting out of his fucking throat, and was all “go ahead and hibernate for a while” like excuse me, THE FUCK. and the thing is, this wasn’t just a one-time occurrence either; he literally pulls this kind of shit ALL THE TIME. froze an entire fucking building with his classmates in it and was all “feel free to bring it on but fighting without the soles of your feet will be painful.” heh. what the fuck. and do you all remember when he fought Sero and was in a bad mood so he iced half the fucking stadium. nearly killed a few people right then and there. “I got carried away.” whaaaaaaat. and I could go on and on; he nearly burned poor Shindou alive, and basically the entirety of chapter 205 could have been submitted as evidence in a court of law had that training battle against Tetsutetsu gone only slightly differently. basically Shouto is an entirely too realistic portrayal of a very sweet but marginally unstable boy with a completely broken power and a shitload of unresolved personal trauma which he is still working through.

4. Honenuki

somehow more murdery than Todoroki “HIBERNATE!!” Shouto. this is entirely because of chapter 205, formerly the most murdery chapter of the entire series, and dethroned only by the recent chapter 266 for obvious reasons. anyway so during the joint training battle, Honenuki bludgeoned Todoroki in the back of the head and would probably have let his unconscious body slump into the softened ground to drown had Iida not saved him. he then proceeded to drop a water tower on top of the both of them. a whole-ass water tower. this was a fucking training exercise. and Honenuki was the only one who kept his calm throughout the entirely of said exercise. and he was praised for his calm murdering skills afterward. because he was fucking awesome tbh. anyway but the point is this is supposed to be a hero school not an assassin school but I’m not really sure anymore you guys.

3. Tokoyami

my man would have straight up killed Moonfish in that forest and sure did try his best. he’s got the same issue as Todoroki in that his quirk is as powerful as it is unstable. and while he himself is not murdery, when Dark Shadow loses control, though… hooooh boy. I was gonna add something about him also interning under Takami “literally stabbed my friend in the neck for the greater good” Keigo, but I think that makes them both come off as more sinister than they actually are. I do think a big part of Tokoyami’s story is him overcoming his inner darkness and wresting control of it and mastering it, so I don’t think it’s very likely that he actually will kill someone in the story. but he’s got a murdery side, no two ways about it.

2. Toadette

straight up filled Tokoyami’s windpipe with mushrooms during a training exercise. he uses that to breathe, fyi. she then offered him a lozenge afterward. do not fuck with Toadette. do not. just don’t.

1. Hagakure

last but not least! Hagakure “hasn’t killed anyone officially but is also definitely the traitor” Tooru! y’all know how it is! I’m committed to this theory! I’d even be willing to put money on a reveal scene where she does just straight up kill someone, and that’s our cliffhanger establishing that the traitor is none other than! and this is coming up sooner than you might think too, guys. Horikoshi brought up the traitor again relatively recently during the Christmas Eve chapter, and that kind of foreshadowing isn’t for nothing. anyways I’m here for it though so bring on that body count you funky little turncoat.

so there you have it. my not-that-definitive definitive ranking of classes 1-A and 1-B by murderous inclination. there’s really not that much rhyme or reason to it tbh but this was fun, thank you anon!