#but man it physically hurts to put a lot of emotion and emphasis on my voice

[agdab]

god dude i wish my autism didnt make socialising so difficult. like yea man we're in the middle of a conversation but ive run out of scripted things to say so i just stop talking. you see me try though. and its hard to watch. the subject changes. same thing happens. on fucking god

[sadisthetic]

jaya string of fate au

ive mentioned string of fate au a few times here. ive finally put it together into a post. okay so the reason why ive taken so long to transfer this is bc ITS FROM JULY OF LAST YEAR. i wasnt sure if i should lightly edit it or rewrite it. because it started out as me complaining about rebooted and then me fucking craving fanfiction and hurt (i do this 24/7) and then it morphed into this au that also doubled as character/relationship analysis and me fixing rebooted with my bare fucking hands in the context of this au

anyways. jaya string of fate au with emphasis on the heartbreak of s3. half of this was written half a year ago. man i was so mad about s3 back then lol

been thinking about s3 again. whats even more frustrating about the bad het drama. is that they didnt even give jay and nya a proper break up. granted their get together wasnt on screen either BUT IF YOURE GONNA OH SO RUDELY TEAR THEM APART LIJE THAT. THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS DO IT WITH MORE FUCKING PURPOSE. THE WRITERS JUST PITCHED A WRENCH INTO THE WORKS AT BULLET SPEED JUST BECAUSE! JUST BECAUSE THEY WANTED DRAMA. BUT FOR WHAT!!!!!!!!! MAKES ME FUCKING MAD!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALL IT DID IS DO JAY DIRTY AND NYAS CHARACTER DIRTY

nyas fucking integrity spit on. you didnt have to make her be like that. it just really fucking made her look BAD. god i wont say jay was a perfect boyfriend but he didnt deserve THAT.

anyways. i want a canon compliant jaya breakup fic set in s3 (present jem speaking: I STILL WANT THIS BY THE WAY.) im so certain nobody has written this. i think heartbreak could be a form of whump if you make it hurt enough.

well. technically. it would be more emotional hurt fic rather than whump. but im a guy who has his definitions twisted. this is whump to me. also im a guy who thinks unromantic things as romantic but also loves love thats void of romance above anything else. i can do both. anyways.

i want jay to feel absolutely crushing heartbreak. i want jay to be hurt. i want him to feel it in his chest. unfairness— rending, jealousy— twisting, want— squeezing. all he yearns for is to be with nya. because he loves her. but apparently... nya doesnt feel the same way. and it hurts

i want to consume heartbreak. i think itll be crunchy on the outside but soft and squishy on the inside. absolute chewable pleasure. lightly salty and bittersweet. i also wanna squeeze jays heart like a stress ball and maybe cause arrhythmia. scratch it a little (a lot). jay is my emotional and physical fucking chew toy

and so to make heartbreak a bit more whumpy tho... i thought up of red string of fate au...

in this version of this concept, the red string of fate is something that needs to be tied by the pair together. and the feelings behind it is what gives the string color. but sometimes if a love is fated to be, the red of the string is instantly, intensely vibrant, almost glowing 

but you dont know who your soulmate is until you actually get together and tie the knot. it is not preexisting, the string does not connect people together for them to find each other before they even know the other exists. it only exists when two people make the decision to bind each other to themselves. most people dont find their soulmate but because its so often the case ppl are content with someone who isnt bc you dont need to find love in your soulmate alone, love is abundant in other places. but that isnt to say the red string of fate isnt romanticized in society tho. anyways. nya likes jay and their string is a pleasant warm red thats a little pink. its typical color for those who arent soulmates but its ok

jay is a little smitten in a slightly overbearing way tho. i think they are a couple who are a little bit mismatched in terms of showing affection. and also nya is very independent type so jays chivalrous tendencies grates on her a little but she lets it slide bc to her, jays positives outweigh his negs. hes cute and funny and they both can geek out and bond over tech stuff. thats a part of the fun. 

but then the match maker thing happens and nya doesnt immediately start considering cole as a romantic interest. but she does start... considering things tho. why cole could be her match. and if he really is her soulmate. why isnt jay her perfect match? its less nya becoming interested in someone else and more nya examining herself to think about what she actually wants for herself and what she wants in a person and if jay really isnt the right guy for her in the end. she doesnt know if cole would actually give her what she wants more than jay does. but she does grow more aware of the mismatch between her and jay

but before anything could be done about her doubts and dismiss it all and just carry on with their relationship, jay finds out in the trailer and is devastated. and intensely jealous of cole.. because hes been a bit insecure about his and nyas relationship for a while now also. he jumps the gun too quick before nya could reassure him so then that Fight happens and things get messy and ugly really fast. jay makes himself look really bad in front of nya which unfortunately reinforces her doubts in jay and she thinks. maybe they shouldnt be together after all. 

and so one night nya talks to jay alone. she explains herself. how shes been feeling about them. how she wants to focus on herself. and that hes too much for her and hes stifling her and she thinks it would be better if they cut things off and go back to being friends. and then she cuts the string that binds them together before jay could even object. it stings for nya but for jay it feels like his heart was sliced in two. literally. he feels a sharp pain that makes him clutch his chest. for nya, she had more time to process the severance. because she was sorta falling out of love for a while. her side of the string has become desaturated and dull. which is why she doesnt hurt as much

she doesnt realize how much jay truly loves her and how much it would hurt him when the string was cut. so when jay falls to his knees, tears falling, she just turns and walks away because she thinks its just from the heartbreak. she knew she was breaking jays heart

she doesnt realize how much hes literally hurting, how she left his heart bleeding. she knew but she didnt know. its most painful experience jay has ever felt in his life. a searing ache. theres a sudden painful void instead where there once was nyas love. its loss that was much too abrupt

heartbreak cant kill a person but it can leave them wounded. and with an abrupt disconnection like that, its why jay hung onto those feelings for nya for months after even tho he never acted on them. his half of the string refused to wither away and he didnt want to discard it either. how could he when he still loved nya. but he couldnt do anything about it though. nya made up her mind. and jay knew her well enough that she would probably hate him more if he chased after her. and so... he kept his feelings close to his chest and his sad, loose thread wrapped around his finger tight all the way until skybound...

—

okay. now present day jem speaking. that was the end of original story i had written on twitter... its meant to be a missing scene (inbetween seasons) fic + au. canon compliant except for the fact its set in this au. so skybound more or less carries out the same way. except minor details being changed...

such as nadakhan approaching jay. he tells him he cannot fix or create strings of fate. but he can give him other means of winning nyas heart... 

although this isnt a part of the “fic” i do imagine at the end of their divorce era.... nya who had casted away her old string, remakes her string to tie to the end of jays (and her) old one where she cut in. the thing is making strings of fate is something anyone can do regardless of being fated to be or not. what the string of fate is in this au is more of an oath... an intention to be together to the end of time. the two people are choosing to bind their fate to each other. nya, who had felt stifled in a relationship and decided she didnt need to be in one back all the months ago, realized something in skybound.... the string of fate isnt a contract or a shackle. not like how she thought... its a sentiment of how much you care about somebody to want to be connected forever. till death do us part. and jay very sincerely wanted that. he wanted to be with nya forever. and nya realizes... despite all his flaws, she really cares about him. she does want to be with him forever. she wants to be together with everyone, all her friends, her family forever. i think she doesnt know the nature of her feelings for jay. they are a bit conflicted and shes not sure how to sort out her desires from her feelings. but i think she decides to give jay a second chance of sorts. when they tie the loose ends the color on nyas side is an ambiguous grey barely tinging pink 

she tells jay she doesnt want to just get back together. she wants them to start over. and jay isnt sure what that means. and by the color of the string hes not sure if it means theyre dating again either. its a very ambiguous ground theyre standing on. but... jay takes the fact that nya retied their string to mean something. that nya isnt rejecting him anymore. that she cares. that he means something to her. it gives jay hope. his feelings for her havent changed... but he decides that to just be. and take things slow. hes happy even if hes confused by what nya wants. hes connected to her again.... and that means so much to jay

i think that their relationship from the end of skybound and onward is a bit more slowburn. well its a weird sorta slowburn. because theyre together but not really. its about them figuring their relationship out. and also nya falling back in love for reals. i love navigation of ambiguous relationships. i think for a while for nya the term “girlfriend”/“boyfriend” is more loaded than the term “soulmate”. thats how fucking weird their relationship got. whats not ambiguous is that nya does love him. she wouldnt have retied their string if she didnt. whats ambiguous is the nature of that love.... its not quite platonic but shes hesitant to call it romantic. whatever. they have time to figure it out

okay. that turned out so much more aro than i was intending. but i do like leaving it like that tho. feelings are difficult to navigate arent they sometimes? how they figure it out is up to whoever. love is love. they are more than “just” friends. but romance itself is a difficult and different beast than love. but jay and nya.... they meet halfway somehow. even if it takes a bit of work

ALSO. LOOK AT THIS ART BY DAN @rotten-dan he drew it for me several months ago when i first finished this au’s original thread which ended at the breakup skdjgthulkd. HEARTBREAK!!!!!!!!!!! YEEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thank you again dan for drawing this for me 

—

also. heres some bonus supplemental worldbuilding that doesnt pertain to story stuff but fleshes out how i picture the world in this au to work. most of this was written to answer dans questions about this au lol... not necessary to read unless if youre interested in my take of string of fate concept lol. or unless youre interested in the bit about bruiseshipping in this au at the very end

-

the string is often attached to the ring finger. so its a very romantic gesture when couples tie it together to each others fingers. like putting wedding rings on each other but its more of a cute fluffy thing rather than binding. not ceremony but its a Thing. its the same level of formality as asking someone out. and string is like. supernatural. its not completely physical but its definitely exists and can be touched. but not as if a literal string is tied to them if you know what i mean? like if the pair are far apart then the strings middle isnt visible but the ends that are tied floats towards the direction of their partner. the string is like. metaphysical. its a perceivable, somewhat tangible representation of love

but if desired the string can be cut if the parties want to separate. but it usually hurts. like a lot of breakups do.

okay so. the thing is with like. almost all soulmate aus. is that they know about their soulmate. or that the evidence of who it is is instantly visible. and like..... that sorta kills part of the fun? of falling in love?

so what if they dont know until they decide to try each other out first. thats the like. the thought behind the set up for this

like. theres sometimes the occasional dumbass whos going off constantly try to find their soulmate but ultimately a soulmate isnt someone you can simply Search for and find. so those kind of people end up being pricks who never will find a soulmate in their life because they dont want to work things out with ppl who arent their soulmate. the pursuit of a soulmate will usually end in disappointment

but sometimes. for the people who do find their soulmate. its because they gravitated to each other in the first place. 

like they fell in love with each other naturally. they liked the person for who they are. and so they decided to get together because they enjoy the other person so much. so when they realize they are meant to be they laugh like oh of course! they were meant to be. theyre like the hallmark movie couple of couples and the few of the very lucky ones

not being soulmates doesnt mean you can only fall in love with your soulmate tho. you can fall in love with anyone. regardless of whether theyre your soulmate or not. and even if theyre not. why does that fucking matter? the important thing isnt that they arent meant to be, but that they love each other anyways. isnt that more romantic? fuck fate the one i love is you

usually nonsoulmate relationship take more work. because the instant perfect chemisty of fated couples isnt there. buuuut. isnt that how love is like in reality? love is work sometimes. love is sometimes hard. but love is also worth it. so making the decision to work for it is more easy the more youre in love. not always the case. but in the healthy couples its usually the case

previously that the feeling behind the thread gives it its color. so. the string can end up being a different color if the feelings felt arent romantic love. most people dont know this though bc ppl who usually tie it are couples. and also it takes both of them to tie the string. every single relationship has a theoretical string color. its just most people who actually want the string are couples usually couples. and so for example, most aros dont ever even think of trying to tie it with someone bc they dont want that kinda bind. but if a curious aro wants to try it out bc they are questioning about their best friend if the two of them agree just to see. their string could actually be a different color than red. because the feelings behind it are platonic

its also entirely possible for a string to be entirely black between enemies hfhjskl. but however those kind of pair would usually NEVER tie the string together bc you know hbghsk. enemies. but if they were. it would be that color. but maybe some insane enemies who are obsessed with each other would do it tho. you know fated enemies and such

..... i have thoughts about bruiseshipping in this au also. theyre best friends, they can bind each other if they wanted to. they have the mutual sentiment required to. but due to the culture surrounding the red string of fate specifically, they never think to. even if they did consider it once they didnt ever bring it up bc awkward!!!!!! the string of fate is the symbol of love. couples treat it a bit frivolously but it is a loaded thing. the string of fate is conversely isnt strictly about love but its just often the case when you want to connect the souls of two people for eternity its usually because of love. theoretically i think their string color would actually oscillate between black and their standard representative color (maybe ill go with light blue lol....) depending on if theyre fighting or not. because it would be funny if it did. also. i think they might try it only after jay and nya retie their string of fate. because then they see its an option to tie strings of fate nonromantically. so theyre like... hey.... do you wanna like... just see? and thats that. two besties bound. jay has two strings of fate now

hysterically it would be funny if all the ninjas did it to each other. it would be a mess. but a colorful one. you know those ship charts where ppl draw lines for their otps and notps. its like that but its not shipping its just relationships and also every single person is connected to every single other person. not saying it has to happen in this au its just that the image of it is so fucking funny to me i had to say it. it would be useful tho if they wanted to find each other wherever they are. practical

maybe they should do that. idk

anyways. thats the end of my au. the post is longer than my og thread of it hjhklkjlkghjf. anyways. thats my weird subversion of string of fate au for jaya. writing the endgame jaya part tonight made think again. damn. im so fucking aro. i think the way i write romance always turn out not so romantic because of it. but also. THIS IS PEAK ROMANCE. SUBVERT BORING ROMANCE TROPES INTO SOMETHING LESS AMATANORMATIVE AND MORE INTERESTING FOR YOUR ENRICHMENT. I RECOMMEND IT. ITS MORE FUN. thats my biased aro ass speaking tho. but for reals. subvert tropes. find out what makes something truly romantic. anyways thanks for reading all of this. i am very fond of this au..... especially for the breakup scene lol...............

[missmaywemeetagain]

hiiii! i’ll be reacting to 17 & 18.1 so i’m sorry & pls excuse me if this is a lot LOL

17:

you jumped RIGHT into it i see!!! & let me just say..i nearly DIED!! YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR MIND!!! i swear i could’ve passed out right w her😂😂😂 elvis saying that’s not normal like what he’s doing to her is?! PLS!!! the way he ordered all her fave foods, it’s the little stuff that shows how he feel🥹 the flashback?? i understand the craziness of the situation but all i can think about is how elvis is ALWAYS there. every. single. time. we LOVE him. the TENSION & the ANXIETY i was feeling when she was up at the lil get together?! the DISGUST when jack kept pushing up on her?! everytime he calls her treasure i get chills & not in a good way. i never thought i could hate a written character more in my life. the confirmation of “cheating” (bc should we reallyyyy call it that atp?? LOL) being him seeing the hickies?! oh i was shaking in my boots. now, i understand the whole purpose of the way this is written is that i’m putting myself in her shoes but WHEN HE DRAGGED HER OUT THAT BATHROOM, DRESS UNDONE,SCREAMING?!?! OH I REALLY FELT THE HATE & EMBARRASSMENT TIMES 100. STEAM WAS COMING OUT MY EARS. i was surprised elvis didn’t pop his ass right then & there. we love a king w a lil self control. emphasis on a lil😂i think i paused in my reading for a good 10 minutes when jack punched her. jaw DROPPED. & i swear i screamed when elvis started beating his ass. my heart SOARED. FINALLYYYY IVE BEEN WAITING & i CACKLED at the confusion from jack. sir, she had that scarf on AGAIN & you’re confused??? PLS. the way EVERYBODY had to hold him back & bring him to his knees from red?! i was eating it up!! & idk….jack deserved more than a smack from her, but at the same time, he not even worth it. elvis did him in enough. now, w all the passing out & throwing up…. pregnancy is running through my brain. MAYBE IM REACHING IDK IDK. this entire part was so JUICY!!! WHEW i was on edge the ENTIRE time. the excitement i’m feeling thinking about what’s next now that everything is finally out on the table?!?! you never fail to surprise me!!!

18.1:

i know you mentioned possibly doing his pov at some point but THIS?!?! oh this is not what i was expecting!!! i am GAGGED!!!! for one, yk i LOVE your flashbacks. but these?! idk i wouldn’t say these were the most intense but they are the most important to me in a way. maybe bc it really confirms everything for me. like clearly just off everything from before, we know he’s in love. BUT READING THESE?!?! HES BEEN DOWN BAD HIS WHOLE LIFE BASICALLY LOL PLEASEEEEE!! that poor baby!!! we know our girl has been too but at least hers is more so on a subconscious level for so many years lol it’s so insane to me how GREAT you write their connection. i’ll say that 1000 times bc i swear i can literally feel it. my heart physically hurts reading this part! the way he yearns for her is so😩😩😩😩 the way he was holding back for so long but after that night he stayed w her he’s like yea no fuck that!! then BOOM! FUCKING JACK MAN!!!!! i teared up! & me knowing the torment that’s still to come & the YEARS of heartbreak he’s gonna go through got me so SAD!! it took SO long for him to finally have her!!! also, now that i’m thinking. elvis knew jack wanted her from the jump, that’s why he didn’t say shit even knowing they have that intense unexplainable connection but HER?! what’s her tea?!?! after she was done w ted she should’ve been ON IT. BUT i can say i’m glad bc all that ripping & running he was doing early in his career, it wouldn’t have been fair (which actually was probably her thought process now that i’m typing it lol) & it probably all would’ve fell apart. timing is a important thing. i cannot WAIT for 18.2!!!!! something so good always comes after a great flashback to connect & you gave us a few so im ready!!

you really pull some crazy emotions out of me reading this series. I LOVE IT. letting yk NOW, once this is complete?! oh i will pay good money to have this on paper in my bookshelf!!!!

First, I'm sorry it took so long to get to this ask, but OMG, Kelly Honey, I LOVEEEEE this. LOVE. IT. Your passionate reactions are what I live for and thank you for blessing me with them! 🥰 You somehow put into words all the fun emotions I'm trying to glean from y'all as a writer and it's just great to see! So many good observations and theories going on here!

My brain is a bit fried from finishing 18.2 just now, so I'll just say that I cannot wait to see how the next part sends you over the edge, babycakes...💋

[crimsonsongbird]

hi!! aside from hades and hekate, is there any deity that you're particularly close to? and what's your experience like with them?

Hiya, Nonny!

Great question! There are 3 others that come to mind! Ares, Aphrodite, and Hermes are also members of my Divine Family. Ares is another father figure, Aphrodite is another mother figure, and Hermes is like a big brother to me.

Ares is similar to my biological father in that he is a "military man". HOWEVER, unlike my bio father, he actually understands emotions and encourages me to express them appropriately, rather than suppress them. He is a huge advocate for mental health care, setting boundaries, and self care. Ares helps me fight my battles, both mental and physical. He is a passionate father and fiercely protective of those he loves.

Aphrodite, much like Ares, is an advocate for mental health care and helps me fight my battles. She also puts a lot of emphasis on self care, self love, and self compassion. While I may not always love the body I am in, she helps me to recognize the beauty that it holds and the value it has for having gotten me this far in life. Aphrodite is a very passionate mother who will do anything to protect the ones she loves. She has a big heart and is always ready to help me with open arms.

Hermes is the one who helps me tackle my self doubts. He isn't afraid to challenge my harmful way of thinking. Whenever I am doubting myself, he is ready to bonk me over the head with his caduceus. Then he corrects the thought and makes me rethink it, so as to reframe the way I talk to myself. Sure he'll play little pranks on me here and there. However, when it comes to me hurting, Hermes is ready to throw down like a protective big brother.

Thanks so much for the question!

~Crimson

[meichenxi]

Hey, could I ask you how you do shadowing? Like the different ways you do it? You mentioned in your tag that shadowing is good and I'd love to hear how you do it! I do not attempt shadowing much so I don't really know what helps, etc. ToT (my studyblr is rigelmejo)

Hellooo! Thank you for the interesting question!

Tbh I think I do it fairly basically - I don’t use any particularly fancy software, but software like Language Learning with Netflix has certainly made it easier. There’s a whole video on how to get the most of it here: [on mobile, link didn't work - How to study Chinese with Netflix! by Chinese Zero To Hero] (I’d recommend checking out all of their videos actually, they’ve done a bunch of livestreams recently and they place a lot of emphasis on shadowing + the course they are trying to sell you is…actually phenomenally good)

(Also, I have to preface this by saying that I have been very lucky in terms of pronunciation: I learnt about 80% of my current vocabulary by ear without characters or pinyin. I have been in China for eight months in total, and while I didn’t speak Chinese for all of that, I was constantly soaking in info on natural sentence intonation. I still often don’t know officially what the tone of a vocabulary item is, especially if it changes tone like 教, 为 or 相, but I don’t get yelled at so I have definitely internalised a lot of those changes. I definitely would have more trouble with this if I hadn’t had that experience - my other areas are waaaay weaker because of this though- my reading SUCKS lmao and I can literally handwrite about ten characters)

Anyway. How I shadow:

1) Quite simply by playing the line, and repeating it with all the emotion it has!! I usually use Netflix or Viki for this. I try to do it as fast as possible, and if I can’t do the whole thing, I ‘chunk’ it: if I were doing the sentence 我们还不知道他会不会来, I would start from the end with 他会不会来, then 不知道他会不会来, and then the whole sentence. Notice that this isn’t breaking it down into words or even grammatical phrases, but intonational phrases: it would be perfectly sensible to just do 会不会来 without the 他 but realistically, since this is a question, it’s likely that a strong stress will be placed on the first 会, and you wouldn’t be able to replicate that without also included the more weakly stressed syllable before.

2) I locate (intentionally or subconsciously) the main locus of stress within the sentence, and I focus on that accordingly. Tones may become less extreme if they are not stressed, and may become more exaggerated if stressed. This is always a good exercise. I accompany this with physical actions - I throw my hands down, I sigh, I groan!

3) I put away the text, and don’t look at the tones or even my computer screen - more on this below.

4) Finally, when I think I’ve got it reasonably accurate, I’ll record them speaking the line into my phone with an appropriate pause for copying and play it back to myself at various points throughout the day.

5) I then go and find other words with the same tone contour to slot in, and copy it again. After that, I find words that are slightly different tonally and pop them in too.

6) I finally do fun things like hold a conversation with myself. This can be really simple phrases imbued with some kind of emotion - 这个女子到底是谁呀？为什么不认识我？应该是新手吧。You can do this either really informally, or very formally, or both - trying to speak in the latter way is very fun! So then it’d be idk something more like: 那位姑娘是何人，来自何处？This is fun because you can really slow down your speech and sound as elegant as you like!! (this will sound stilted if you do it for modern speech, but it’s a very fun exercise)

Choosing your media!!

1) Don’t use donghuas. Seriously. The voice actors usually speak at a ridiculous pace and not with the same range of ‘normal’ intonation

2) Your Chinese is definitely good enough to recognise when anyone is quoting poetry or speaking in a paricularly sexy literary way so, uh…don’t do that. That rules dramas like Nirvana in Fire OUT.

3) Modern dramas and reality TV shows CAN be great, but they can also be quite intimidatingly quick and almost too mushy at times. I’d recommend informal speech in guzhuang dramas more, because they have professional voice actors and extensive sound editing, meaning that although it might be fast and the vocabulary harder, it’s actually much more accessible and easier to copy. You don’t want to be stuck with the awfulness of 50% failed foreigner and 50% 12 year old boy who can’t enunciate properly!!

4) CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON WISELY. I try to find characters that speak in a dramatic, whiny or childish way. This is so important! There’s literally no use copying Lan Wangji unless you want to be able to have that particular cadence and tone of voice you get reciting poetry. Childish/whiny/dramatic characters on the other hand stress some words very strongly, and rush others together - this is great for hearing what actual real speech sounds like. Whininess wins. In The Untamed, characters like Wei Wuxian (not yllz!wwx but just…regular wwx), 一问三不知 Nie Huaisang, Jin Ling, and Jingyi are all great. Also Jiggy, who is just very extra constantly and speaks much slower as well, which really helps. In SHL characters like Gu Xiang are good.

5) CHOOSE YOUR VOICE WISELY! If you are really aiming to copy them 100% (which you should try at least sometimes), you want somebody with your pitch range to sound normal. I have a sort of party trick in Chinese that because I’ve spent so much time listening to women in guzhuang dramas I can change my voice and sound like a) a scheming concubine with honeyed words, or b) the voice of the Beijing metro. My teacher found it hysterically funny. But it’s not my natural voice, and if I speak like that for too long it hurts. The women usually are too high for me, and the big burly manly men too low - so I’d recommend finding a man with a higher voice, or an older woman (like some of the female characters in Nirvana in Fire). Again, sorry that this is mostly the Untamed (I’m just most familiar with it) but the voice actors for Wei Wuxian and some of the juniors (+jiggy) has a higher voice. Likewise Chengling in Word of Honour.

On intonation in general:

- The thing is that whilst shadowing is useful it requires prior ability in a whole bunch of other skills that you can train - it relies on your ability to accurately mimic pitch, emotion and other contrasts. Training this in ANY language, including your native one, will help your ability to do this in Chinese - so I’d recommend spending a fair amount of time practicing shadowing (or speaking just after somebody whilst listening to a string of text, like monolingual simultaneous interpreting) in your native language too. Any training copying accents or mimicking other people is going to similarly help, regardless of the language.

So, with that in mind, further tips:

1) Hum / try to copy the intonation without any words. What this does is force you to pay attention to what the intonation actually is, versus what you may think it should be.

2) Don’t look at the text! Do! Not! Look! At! The! Text! If you look at the characters or pinyin you’re telling yourself ‘ok this is a third tone here’ etc, but you want to override the part of your brain that has gotten into bad habits and is supremely self-confident in how you’re pronouncing the third tone, and actually just go straight back to mimicking.

3) Don’t be afraid to do it with vocabulary that is way beyond your level. Actually, I find this can sometimes be helpful, because you don’t have a prior idea about how a particular tone pair should be useful - and you don’t know which tone you should be producing.

4) Learn vocabulary by ear - listen to a vocab podcast or even make one yourself (I often do this; I record my daily Anki and listen back to it through headphones copying throughout the day - if you’re not confident in your pronunciation you can get Google Translate to do it). Similarly, pick unknown vocabulary out of a longer segment and remember it, trying to internalise the tones instead of figuring out which tone it is.

5) Find emotional sentences, and copy them with emotion. This is SO CRUCIAL!!! We remember things when we relate to them, and when we imbue them with emotion - and it also helps in hearing exactly how an angry second tone sounds, for instance.

6) When you’re copying, look up, and imagine you are having an actual conversation. Carry yourself with conviction and poise!! Really try to whine like wwx or slime like jgy. After a couple of turns copying them, try to turn off the audio and keep delivering it in the same manner.

7) Swap individual words out. Once you have a line properly figured out, swap a word or two that has a different tone pair, and focus on delivering it with the same pattern of stress.

8) Finally, practice doing this in your native language too!! It’s a skill that we don’t use often, and it can be trained. Some people are terrible at it at first go even in their native language, but you can work on it!

About intonation in general:

1) I think a lot of pronunciation problems with people sounding unnatural or stiff ultimately come down to a fundamental misunderstanding of what intonation looks like across different languages. In English we mark it by pitch: and we are so used to the rhetoric that Chinese has ‘tone’ and not ‘intonation’ that we try and focus on blindly copying every single word textbook perfect without listening to how it actually sounds.

2) Chinese does have intonation!!! Except that, unlike English, when you stress a word, the pitch doesn’t change, but the tone contour is exaggerated - basically the only time you will ever hear a full third tone is in isolated or very exaggerated speech. If you have a Chinese friend, get them to record a sentence like the English ‘I didn’t ask her to steal his rucksack’, and put stress on the different elements of it - I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask, I didn’t ask, and so on. Notice and copy how the tones change. When shadowing, you should always be paying attention to where the stress is in the sentence: when you speak by yourself, practicing saying a sentence neutrally, and then with stress on one component, the next, and so on. If it feels unnatural, it’s because you might not have practicised like this before - it’ll get better!

Hope that’s somewhat helpful / interesting!

- 梅晨曦

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 3][18+]

<- Part 2 [male reader]  <- Part 2 [female reader] | Part 4 [female reader] -> Part 4 [male reader] ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

No plot, just fluff. For @thatesqcrush​’s summer bingo: aftercare square.

Warnings: NSFW, immediate aftermath of threesome, cuddling, insecurity, feelings

1,800 words

Bryan Kneef was the type of ruthless lawyer who stood up for the man and stuck it to the little guy. Vulgar, shameless, and tenacious, his name made opposing counsel tremble, and for good reason. He would do anything to win, and would just as soon bribe you, throw you under a bus, or fuck you.

And this man, having just fucked you and Dr. Frederick Chilton raw, was casually humming as he brought clean towels from the bathroom.

“Eyes closed,” he said—a tone that did not allow for argument, but soft, wearing a look of tender concentration on his brow.

Chilton closed his eyes, and he dabbed the warm, wet terrycloth to his cum-spattered face, clearing the stinging release from the area of danger before handing the towel to you to finish the job.

“This one’s dry.” Bryan pointed to a second towel he placed down beside you, then busied himself filling glasses of water from the sink.

As the partner doling out the most punishment, he took responsibility for taking care of everyone.

You guided Chilton to the couch, laying down a towel to catch the slick coating your thighs. He let out a stiff groan as he sank down, his bruised knees protesting, and you continued wiping down his face, stained with your, Bryan’s, and his own release. Some was stuck in his thick brown hair that would need an extra shampooing, some flecked his bare stomach, and swipes transferred from his hands painted his arms and chest. You let him wipe up his own stomach. He was sensitive about the long, raised scar there, which, while it had long ago healed physically, produced a different pain than the kind he got off on. The place he had been brutally violated was the one place treated with dignity.

Bryan returned with the water insisting everyone hydrate. Then he joined you on the couch, sitting beside Chilton, and pulling him down onto his broad, soft chest. Chilton curled his legs over your lap, and you tipped over his back, partially spooning him as he rested on Bryan. You trailed your hand over his back, stroking down the outside of his thigh, and he sighed as Bryan ran his fingers through his sweat-matted hair.

“You did very well,” Bryan cooed. “Our good little fuck toy.”

Chilton’s muscles went rigid. He turned his face down into Bryan’s greying chest hair to hide the color rising on his cheeks, though there was no hiding the blotchy red on a pale, naked doctor. Degradation was one thing, but praise? Praise was another entirely. He relished the safe feeling of being nestled between your two warm bodies as he came down from the adrenaline, but being told he was good triggered a squirmy, hot feeling in his stomach.

He was relieved when Bryan moved on and asked, “How do you feel? Anything hurt?”

Business. Professional. Checking on him physically, he could handle. Chilton shook his head and murmured something meant to be more intelligible than what came out, but managed to convey that he was fine—fucked brainless and boneless, but fine.

Bryan didn’t stay long. 

That was the deal. While you were playing at Chilton being a toy for the two of you to use, in reality, Bryan was the one you brought in to have fun with. He had no intention of overstaying his welcome. After a quick shower, his clothes were back on—a sharp navy suit hiding any hint of the unprofessional purpose for which he had visited your hotel room—and he was making a quick goodbye.

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay? There’s plenty of room.”

Bryan’s pink lips curved up slightly, the corners lost in his neatly trimmed beard. “Nah, I have a deposition in the morning. Boring shit, but—” He shrugged.

Chilton had managed to change into a loose-fitting t-shirt, though his eyes were heavy-lidded, and his chatty nature was subdued. His hair was tousled and wet from the shower, making it appear almost black. 

“Good luck tomorrow,” Bryan said to him jovially, with a pat on the shoulder. “This was fun. Next time you’re in Chicago, let’s meet at my place. I have a lot more toys.”

He ran two fingers under your chin with the promise of pleasure to come, stepping into your space. Your nostrils quivered as you involuntarily sniffed him.

Then he turned to Chilton, whose hand was glued to your waist. Bryan narrowed his eyes slightly in consideration, and kissed him on the mouth. Lips colliding with a hungry snarl, their teeth clashed, and his beard battled Chilton’s coat of stubble to see who would leave a burn on the other’s chin. When he pulled back, Chilton’s green eyes gaped unblinking at him like a deer caught in the headlights of a swingers’ cruise.

Bryan smirked, and was gone.

* * *

The VIP hotel suite had a separate bedroom—a sweeping space decorated with modern black and white marble in crisp lines, a king-sized bed dressed in white linens and a fluffy black throw blanket. It opened into a master bathroom with a standing spa tub which you would certainly enjoy later when the soreness set in. For now, you and Frederick stumbled in to the privacy of the room and fell onto the vast bed together.

He let out a long, grateful moan as he stretched out on the clean sheets. It was rare to see him look so comfortable, with towel-dried hair curling into messy ringlets in every direction. Your heart fluttered at this perfectly unwound Chilton. There was the faintest hint of a bruise where Bryan’s fingers had dug in below his jaw, but it would be easy enough to hide with makeup if it wasn’t faded by the next day.

You kissed him gently on the bruise, and then curled an arm over his chest and settled against his side. His thumb found the back of your hand and traced small, wandering circles.

“So… did you like it?”

He nodded speechlessly.

“That’s good. I was worried it went too far.”

“That was the idea,” he replied.

A frown tugged at the affectionate smile your lips wanted to make, wrestled with it for control, and finally overpowered it in its sullen grip. You weren’t good enough on your own, in other words. You weren’t strong enough, not harsh enough to satisfy Dr. Chilton’s masochistic lust to be dominated.

Still, you wouldn’t ruin a lovely night by letting on that it bothered you.

“Yes, it was. And you took it so well,” you purred, savoring the feeling of his chest hair between your splayed fingers as you thoughtfully stroked his chest. “I think you really enjoyed yourself.”

He smiled dreamily, closing his eyes and reliving the memories. Your gentle palm was so warm, lulling him to sleep with its slow, meandering journey. His hand rested over yours, accompanying it like a passenger.

“Did you?” he asked.

Your hand stopped.

One of his deep green eyes cracked open.

“I did,” you said. “I wasn’t sure at first, but Bryan was so easy to work with. So magnetic. It was empowering having him there. Making you our willing slave that I had total control over.” A shiver ran straight to your over-worked sex remembering Chilton on his knees between you. How hard he worked to get you off. The way he looked at you with worship, even as tears burned down his face. No need to mention how it made you feel inadequate.

Frederick was quiet for a time, lost somewhere, too. Then a tiny voice came from his pillow. “Did you… like Bryan’s cock more than mine?”

“What?”

“Am I unsatisfactory by comparison? Do I not make you feel as good?”

“Frederick… this is why I didn’t want to do this.” Apparently Bryan made everyone feel inadequate.

“Oh.” His chin bobbed with a stiff inhale, and he looked away as if that was your answer.

“That stuff about him fucking me better… Those were just mean things we said to emasculate you—because you wanted us to!”

“It does not make it less true.”

“Well, it’s not,” you retorted stubbornly. “I love you.”

His cheeks flamed again. All of your emphasis on you, as in not Bryan. Not anyone else. The squirming, uncomfortable feeling in his belly returned, and he had to look away before you noticed how emotional he was getting. God. Why was being told he was a dickless fuckdoll so much easier than hearing that he was loved, when he desperately wanted to be loved? Thank god the psychiatric analyses he published were about someone else’s issues.

“We could do this more often,” he said in a light tone to put you at ease, skimming past his rather pathetic outburst of insecurity. “I liked him, too.”

“That is a monster cock he’s packing. I’m going to need a week to recover!” you laughed.

“As will I.”

“Oh! Should I bring you a cold pack? Or the vitamin E oil?”

“Worry about it tomorrow?” He held your wrist to prevent you from springing into action-mode. “I just want you to hold me.”

You lay back on the impressive modern bedspread and enjoyed the feeling of closeness. Frederick’s hand on your back, the quiet rhythm of his breath. You thought about sinking into a bath tomorrow, letting it ease your muscles and tender entrance. Frederick would want to wash his hair again before the Chicago Psychiatric Convention tomorrow to make sure all of the cum was gone, and to fix the results of letting it dry naturally. You anticipated waking up next to the cutest little cowlick. Maybe sending him off with a blowjob if there was time. 

But a dark thought kept nipping at the soft corners of the moment, tugging it out of focus with sharp needle teeth. Replaying the titillating scene from earlier, the pest only grew, preventing you from enjoying what should have been an arousing memory. The longer you ignored it, the harder it bit. 

Finally, you sighed, “Did you like him more than me?”

Startled, Frederick raised a brow and laughed. “He was quite impressive.”

When your face failed to show any sign of mirth, he realized you might have needed as much reassurance as he did. (Though he could not account for why. You were perfect.) He dropped his teasing, narrow-eyed, carefully-considering-it look.

“But I am rather fond of you.”

His lips met yours softly, with just the faintest brush of thin skin, melding slowly as you let out a contented noise that vibrated against him. Your fingers brushed through his messy hair, soothing over the scalp where you’d yanked before. The contrast made his skin tingle with goosebumps.

“Nothing could ever replace you,” he whispered reverently against your lips. “Nothing.”

A soft sob you hadn’t realized was threatening to break free broke, and you quelled it with another kiss, deeper this time. Not urgent, but needy, your tongue delving into his mouth, capturing the lingering taste of Bryan Kneef. Two gorgeous men to fuck. How did you get so lucky? You felt even luckier knowing that whatever happened with Bryan, you and Frederick had each other. 

Always.

“So,” you spoke in a low voice as your lips parted, “are you nice and relaxed for your panel tomorrow?”

“Am I ready to stand up in front of a room filled with hundreds of bitter academic rivals and defend my results, while they all wait to pick them apart, hoping to humiliate me with a question I had not accounted for? Is that what you mean?”

“...Yes?”

“My nerves are much calmer now.” He melted into the pillow with a sated smile. “Thank you.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: 

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada​

[physicalturian]

[16+] Define "Hate" - Miya Atsumu x Fem!Reader

[She/Her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18]

Words : 9956

Archive of our own

Tags : Enemies to friends (to lovers) / A random dude tries to make out but fails / Drinking / Partying / Fluff / Wholesome / Tenderness / Slight non-con

If you think I should add some tags, tell me!

Summary : Your friend Bokuto invites you to a party, where due to circumstances you're forced to hang out with a man that hates you : Miya Atsumu. The evening does not go as planned, and slowly, you're coming to the realization that your entire relationship may have started on a misunderstanding.

A/N: The unwanted advances are from a random person, so is the non-consensual touching. It does not go further, the person is stopped. The story is cute, but you've been warned if you're sensitive to such topics! Have fun!

- - -

I knew the moment I heard Bokuto say “I’ll meet you there then!” that I shouldn’t have accepted his offer to go out. While I was aware it was a rare opportunity considering his lack of free time, I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach it was going to turn out bad.

Before I could ask him what he meant by meet there, he had hung up, telling me he was excited. Pulling the phone away from my ear, I stared at the screen and tried to call him back right away, I had to ask him where we were meeting since in his excitement, he had not shared the location.

He never picked up. Even after 4 calls.

With a heavy sigh, I got up from my desk and grimaced at my last option to get hang of the man, “I really don’t want to call him… I should get Hinata’s phone number, that’d be more enjoyable than him.” Shaking my head, I told myself that we were both adults, and we could have a proper conversation. Clearing my throat, I pressed the name in my contacts and waited, drumming my fingers on the back of the phone.

After a moment, I heard some hubbub in the background before hearing the fake-joyous voice on the other end, “Well, isn’t it the little faker, are you calling me to come clean and finally be real with me-“ “Hello to you too, is Koutarou nearby?” I cut him off, not wanting to hear his little speech.

Every time we would meet, he would talk shit about the way I’d act. I was very social during those gatherings; I was calmer in normal situation, and I’ll admit putting on a tougher face when around more people I did not know. But what bugged Atsumu Miya was that I was never getting mad. His sole purpose seemed to try to tick me off.

Perhaps he was himself mad that I kept throwing him comebacks and that he’d struggle to come up with something just as good. Or perhaps he only heard about me from Bokuto and wanted to see the less stoic side Bokuto probably talked to him about.

The blond Miya twin huffed, it was followed by a more muffled sound. “I could ask, I could answer, really. But I’m not fond of the attitude, so I might just hang up-“ “You do that,” I had started tauntingly, thinking he wouldn’t do it. Before I could say more, he hung up.

It was my turn to huff as I called him back, he picked up just as fast, “Back so soon? How can I help you? And don’t waste time on formalities, I don’t need the fake niceties. This ain’t an interview,” His grin could be heard through the phone, it made me roll my eyes as I sighed.

“I really don’t know why Kou gave me your number instead of literally any other guy from your team. Just tell me if Koutarou is here, that’s all I am calling about.” Just when I said that, I heard my friend’s voice ask who was on the phone. I was very close to threaten Atsumu, thinking he was going to be shitty and not tell Bokuto it was me. Instead, he told him the truth and handed him his phone.

“Hey!! What’s up?” “Kou, you said we’d meet up there, where is ‘there’ exactly?” He burst out laughing for a long while before telling me he meant the pub near the campus, he added that the closest they were to the campus, the more they could get wasted. Or as he put it ‘the waster-er we can be’. “Right, but I’m a bit further from the pub. I don’t live that far, but not that close either-“

Hushing me, he said, “I know, I know, that’s why Tsum-Tsum is going to come pick you up! He said he wasn’t going to drink tonight, he’ll be our designated driver, I already gave him your address.”

I blinked a few times, not responding. Was he fucking with me? “Bok, Bok, can’t you just pick me up yourself?” “Nah, I have to go get my bro, he said he’ll need to be saved from a boring party he was forced to go to,” He explained. He then cut the conversation short by telling me we’d see each other tonight, then another voice spoke.

“Sheesh, who would have thought, right? Hope that does not make you mad. Better be ready at 5, don’t forget the condescending attitude, we wouldn’t want the others to know who you really are, right?” “You are obsessed with me, it’s getting ridiculous. I’m not fake, Miya. It says a lot if all you want is for me to get mad at you, perhaps you lived in a too lenient household? In dire need of being reprimanded?” The man scoffed and repeated to be ready by 5, then hung up.

I had a few hours left to get prepared and did it in no time. Enough to wear something casual enough, but still standing out a bit to look good. With the time I had left, I rummaged through my place to find an empty reusable bottle and filled it with something to spice up my drinks and have more fun. Going to bars was fun, but it did not come cheap, plus if I was going to be somewhere where Atsumu Miya was, I was not going to be sober.

I was putting my bottle inside my bag, when I heard my phone ring in my back pocket and quickly grabbed it only to be attacked, “When I say be ready at 5, it means be in front of the building door by 5, not take your time going down the stairs.” “Did you skip breakfast or something? Such a sour mood Miya, even for you it’s surprising. I’ll be there in two minutes.” Doing as he did to me, I hung up before he could say anything and left my place, making sure to turn everything off and lock the doors.

I had left a note to my roommate, telling them I was going out and not to be surprised if I wasn’t home.

Knowing that staying in Atsumu’s presence was going to take a toll on me, I took a few measured breaths as I went down the stairs. Most of the people I knew appreciated how calm I was, but the man child seemed annoyed by it more than anyone. He was dead set on making me mad. If anyone asked me, I’d say he got mad one time I did not laugh at his stupid jokes and put himself up to the challenge to get a reaction out of me. And since his humor was not on point, the easiest way, in his books, could be getting me mad.

I never really understood why he was like that with me, since he never explained his nasty attitude, but I was bearing through it.

Giving him a nod, I knocked on the window and told him to open. Rolling his eyes, he did and put his phone back on the stand on the dashboard where the aux was connected. He put on some music and started driving, not saying much. It felt like he was forcing himself to not speak, which made me sigh in annoyance. He was being too petty, and for what?

Keeping things civilized, I said, “Thank you for picking me up,” I held back from saying I was surprised his car was clean. There was a sports bag on the bag seat, but it was still clean, and it did not smell bad. “I owed Bokuto, that’s all” “Still, thank you. You could have told him no since you hate me,” I said jokingly, hoping for a reaction. It did not take long to get one, in a whiny voice he looked at me with a scowl, “I don’t hate you, you’re just-“ “Look at the road, then bitch and moan,”

“Like that, you’re like that, God,” He huffed, focusing back on the road. In a calm voice, I said, “Well, I’d rather we did not get in an accident just because you have anger issues, you know?” I taunted, making him grip the wheel tighter.

“I don’t have anger issues; I just know you’re not as calm as you appear to be. No one is, I’ve seen, at best, two emotions on that arrogant face of yours and I’m sure they were all fake,” He stated, definitely believing what he was saying. Quirking a brow in response, I hummed inquisitively, playing with the seatbelt. “Is that so? My theory is that you’re mad I don’t laugh at your jokes,” I shrugged.

With a quick glance, he raised a finger in emphasis as he said, “First, I’m hilarious,” he raised another finger, “Second, I’ll get you to show some emotion at some point, but tonight I’m having fun and not caring if I have a fucking rock with me,”

I’ll admit it hurt a bit to hear him say that. But I didn’t show it. If the man was going to act as such then so be it, “Sure, sure, call me Wall-E because I’m an emotionless robot, right?”

“Wall-E was in love with Eve, he had emotions,” I heard him mumble. A smile drew itself on my face when I heard that, I don’t know if I wanted to tell him it sounded cute the way he said it. Now I took it as a challenge to keep all of my feelings away from him, since he seemed too keen on unraveling the mystery that I seemed to be in his eyes. “Right. That he was, sure.”

“Have you not seen the movie? Do you even cry during sad movies- no, do you ever cry, at all? Or is it just bitterness and pure attitude?” “Doesn’t it get tiring to be mad at nothing?” I ignored his questions, finding them absolutely ridiculous. All I wanted was to jump out of his car and walk the rest of the way to the bar.

“I’m not mad!” He said, annoyed. “Well, you don’t have a very positive attitude Miya, Bokuto keeps telling me how you’re so funny and cool but all I see is a little bitch who’s upset over meeting someone who isn’t as loud as he is,”

With a scoff, he replied, his tone getting rougher, “And he keeps telling me you’re so great to be around, and the best kind of company and yet I’d feel better hanging out with a goldfish.”

“Since we’re on the same page, I suggest we stop talking. That’d be better for both of us.” My tone was strained, I never had such a tensed relationship with anyone. My chest felt heavy knowing the reason I wasn’t getting along with him was his utter dislike of who I was, but I ignored it. I was not going to let it get to me, I was going to get drunk and have fun.

I reached out for the phone to increase the volume, my hand almost bumping with Atsumu. We seemed to have had the same idea. He looked at me with a raised brow, “Choose whatever song,” he said. I turned my face to look at the window instead and shrugged, “I don’t care, we’re almost there,”

Another sigh followed when Atsumu changed to something a bit more upbeat. I wanted to sing along, and as I glanced his way, he also did. His mouth was matching the lyrics, but no other sound followed. It was kind of cute.

“Do you want something?” He asked, probably feeling my stare. “No. Just lost in thoughts.”

The rest of the drive was spent without another word. I only thanked him when we arrived, the loud music could already be heard from outside. The reason for it being the windows being wide open along with the door. It felt familiar, the tension from the car dissipated easily. I was finally going to be able to avoid the Miya twin and have fun.

Except I still had him close by when we walked up to the entrance of the building. “Stop walking with me, people will think we came here together,” He said in a panicked tone.

“Which we did, but you’re right. I wouldn’t want to be seen with you,” I sped up my pace and walked further in front of him, turning around and saluting him. “See you,” I said with a mischievous grin upon seeing his surprised expression. He scrambled to his senses and added “Never, see you never!”

I rolled my eyes at how childish he sounded and made my way inside, feeling much more welcome by the loud music and beer smells than I felt in the car of a man that despised me. I was startled when I heard my name being called but let out a shaky laugh when I saw Bokuto at a table, waving at him I joined him.

“Hey Kou!” I looked at the black-haired man next to him and nodded, “Kuroo,” Bokuto scooted closer to his friend to make me some space, so I sat down. In front of us was his teammates, Hinata and Sakusa, which I greeted along the way. Before I could join the conversation, Bokuto handed me his beer, “We can’t really start without this, right?” I rolled my eyes, knowing full well what he wanted from me. I chugged the drink, slamming the cup down. “Bro, it wasn’t just beer, the fuck did you put in that?” “Fun, I put fun in it.”

“Yeah well, I’m not chugging another one of those, I’ll wait a bit before taking something else,” I huffed a laugh, looking around a bit. I met a random dude’s gaze who seemed to be fixed on mine. When I made a confused face, a smirk drew itself on his face. It felt very off-putting, his gaze was not leaving mine, I only looked away when Bokuto placed a hand on my shoulder. “Tonight is the night we get wasted,” The last word being said in a much louder tone than the rest, almost screaming it.

Nudging him, I quirked a brow, “That changes from the usual because?” “Because everyone is here!” He turned to look at Hinata and Sakusa, a huge grin on his face, “What’s your poison?”

I let out a laugh, about to tell him no one said that but Kuroo beat me to it, “Bro, no one says that. That was cringe,” he looked at the two other men and smirked as he placed both his hands on the table, ready to get up to get the drinks. “What’s your Kryptonite?”

Sakusa sighed, I looked at the two best friends and told them that no one said that either but at least we knew what they meant. Hinata said he didn’t usually drink, while Sakusa said he was not planning on getting wasted. Bokuto proceeded to whine and try to convince the dark-haired man. While he did that, I got up and went to the bar to get a few beers. Once I had ordered, I waited for the barman to serve the drinks.

In my waiting, I was pushed a bit around considering the amount of people around. I gripped the bar tight to stay put and felt someone touch my ass, I turned around with a scowl, ready to beat whoever did that. All I could see was a person leaving, they seemed tall, but I couldn’t really tell much more about them just from their back. “Fucking asshole,” I mumbled as I turned back to get my drinks, thanking the barman.

I had to hold back a loud sigh when I saw Atsumu seating next to Hinata when I joined back my friends at the table. I had planned on having fun and having him there only made me uneasy.

Putting the drinks on the table, I sat down and grabbed my bottle, looking him dead in the eyes. I observed a moment, assessing, checking how annoying he was tonight. “Five.” I said as I gulped down some of my drink.

Confused he put his glass down, “What ‘five’?”

Finishing drinking from my bottle, I closed it and smirked, “I’ll need 5 shots until I can handle your whiny ass tonight,”

He gasped and pointed at Bokuto, “Bok! Your robot friend is being a bitch again, how can you stay with her!” He complained, earning a loud laugh from Bokuto. Kuroo answered instead, “She’s funny, and pretty reasonable, I would have said 7.” Atsumu grumbled in response and hurried us to start the drinking game.

I did not really understand what the game was about, it seemed to have been invented by Kuroo and Bokuto, but clearly, they were having a blast. I didn’t quite follow the rules but would drink when they’d tell me to. Hinata was already a lot louder than 3 drinks ago, his cheeks flushed pink and his hand gripping Atsumu’s biceps when he’d talk.

As loud as both Kuroo and Bokuto already were, it had gotten louder. And a lot less clear, their words being more slurred. It was still joyful as the smile on their face was beaming when they’d tell one another joke. It was so wholesome; I couldn’t help but join their stupid giggling.

Sakusa had left after a few hours, Atsumu had drove him back before coming back and joining us once more.

I don’t really know what I talked about with Bokuto during Atsumu’s absence, but I remember leaning in and resting my cheek on his shoulder. “Atsumu hates me…” I mumbled. I heard Kuroo whisper something but didn’t quite catch it, instead Bokuto placed a hand on the back of my head. “I don’t know bro, he definitely feels something, but I don’t know- you know like, he just, when I….But like…” I nodded.

“What I’m saying is like, I don’t know man, I thought you’d both get along!! You’re both so cool, but yeah no… So, like- he looks like he’s been challenged or something man,” He grumbled, nudging Kuroo and bringing his head against his chest along with mine. “It makes me sad,” he whined the last part. “I just want my friends to get along, I don’t want you to be fighting,” Feeling his chest move weirdly, I realized he was crying.

Kuroo huffed a laugh and tried to cheer him up, I wrapped an arm around his shoulder. I found it slightly funny, both Kuroo and I were smiling at how Bokuto turned out but still did our best to cheer him up.

Checking if he was coming back, I instead met the gaze of the dude from earlier. He was watching me intently from his spot at the bar. He raised a glass my way before taking a sip.

The feeling in the pit of my stomach grew, it was unease, uncomfortable… Unsafe. But I ignored him and looked back at Bokuto. “Alright, alright, I’ll try to talk to him,” I slurred a few of my words too, more out of exhaustion than anything. When I had too many drinks, I was not angry or sad, but tired. Still when I saw Atsumu Miya walk in, I chugged down my shot and stood up. “Wish me luck,”

I quickly made my way towards him, “Miya,” he turned away from me and ignored me.

I could have called his name again, but that would have made me look clingy. I followed him instead, trying to grab his arm, but he was walking fast. Maybe he didn’t hear me, right? Maybe he did not even think I called him, because why would I… right?

I huffed at my own thought, why was I trying to justify this man just not wanting to deal with me?

In my loss of focus, I bumped into someone and apologized quickly. They grabbed my biceps to keep me in place, a forced-nice tone in their voice. “Hey there, be careful next time,”

I held back my disgust when he brushed his thumbs over my arm. “Thank you, have a nice night.” Shit, I should have been more fake. Now he’ll feel offended. Too many words too. I should I have just said thank you. Fuck.

His eyes focused on mine a moment, damn it, he was going to use that card… “Hey have we met already?” I shook my head, trying to get out of his grasp. “Oh right! You’re the one who kept looking at me, haha.” I gave him a fake smile, still not saying anything. He let go of one of my arms and tried to guide me somewhere, but I stood in the spot. I didn’t want to move, there were already very few people here, I did not want to go somewhere even less crowded.

“Hey, I really have to go, my friend-“ “The one who was ignoring you? Haha, I think you should let him go, if he’s like that.” A fake laugh was what I gave him with a nod, I did not want to make him feel attacked. “Come on, I see the way you were looking at me. You can’t act shy now,” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, I felt my heart beat faster in fear. I wasn’t in any condition to do any real damage, maybe I was overthinking it, but I considered screaming, not that anyone would come in.

I gulped and straightened my back, “I believe you were looking at me like a hawk more than anything, I was just glancing.” I was glad I didn’t stutter, but the moment his smile disappeared, I tried to pull my arm from him. “I’m pretty sure you were looking like I was, maybe thinking of what we could do together…” His eyes traveled over my body. I tried to push him off, he grunted. “Hey, why are you like that? I’m just being nice here,”

“I’m sure you are, just let me go, I’m not interested,” He held only tighter, pushing me to the wall and gripping my jaw to have me look him dead in the eyes, “I’ll show you what you’re missing, do you mind if I-“ His hand was starting to drift to my collarbone, “I’m sure you don’t, I saw the way you acted with those men-“ He nipped my neck, and I elbowed his side.

This was enough, I glanced down and saw an opportunity to knee him in the balls before punching his stomach and biting his arm to let me go. He tried to grab me, but I ran off, tripping as I did so. I could hear him swear under his breath and call me a bitch, a maniac, a psycho. I huffed and went back to my table. I tried to brush off what happened, but the stress made my hands shake.

I was breathing heavily. Eyes tearing up. Deep breath, in …. Out… I told myself as I brushed my clothes off and tried to smile before reaching the table, calming myself down. I just wanted to get Bokuto and stick by his side, his presence was reassuring and that’s what I need. I just wanted to get my friend, maybe a hug… just anything. If the man came back, he’d probably back off, but I couldn’t be alone.

When I got to the table and only saw Atsumu, I let out a nervous laugh. “Miya, where’s Kou?” I looked behind me, making sure the man wasn’t there. “He disappeared with Kuroo and little Shoyo,” He said off-handedly, glancing at me as he spoke. I clenched my jaw, knowing if I spoke, I would break down. Deep breaths, in… and out… in…. and out…“When’s he- coming back,” A knot in my throat gave away that I wasn’t as composed as I seemed. But I did not want to be mocked by Atsumu and prayed he didn’t catch on.

“I don’t think he is-“ He cut himself off and looked at me with a frown, “Hey are you okay?” I waved him off, feeling my lips wobble a bit. I cleared my throat and frowned, “I need to find him, I’ll go find him-“

Turning around, I ignored him when he called my name and walked off as fast I could. This place did not feel as welcoming as it once did. Any bump against my shoulder made me feel more and more on edge, I didn’t feel safe, I didn’t feel good, I wanted to dig a whole and hide in it. Or build a house only made of walls, no windows, no door so that no one could see me or reach out for me. I wanted to cry, of frustration and dread.

When I finally reached the door and stepped outside, a loud shaky sound left my lips. “Fuck, fuck,” I looked around quickly, making sure there wasn’t anyone around before walking behind a tree big enough to hide my form. When I was hidden, I slid down the rugged tree, and let out controlled breath, trying to calm down. I kept swearing under my breath, not finding anything else to say.

I went to grab my phone and realized I left it in my bag, which meant I had to go back inside. The mere thought sent chills running down my body. I took a few more deep breaths and stood up, tucking my hands in my pockets to hide the fact that I was shaking. When I was about to make my way to the pub once more, I bumped into someone. My heart skyrocketed in my chest, I gasped and stepped back, “Hey, be careful,” The sentence in itself made me feel sick, then I realized it wasn’t the man from before.

I couldn’t see much from how dark it was, but recognized Atsumu Miya’s voice. “Miya,” I let out a breath of relief. Something hit my feet, I looked down, my eyes squinted I understood it was my bag, “Thank you,” I was a lot more relieved than my tone portrayed, but I did not want him to know what was going on.

“What’s up with you?”

I looked up at him, my hands still in my pocket. “What’s up with me? Nothing. What’s up with you?” Please leave me alone, please leave me alone. If you stay here any longer, I’ll break down. I thought, my nose and eyes were starting to sting. I could feel tears coming in.

“You seemed shaken inside, why did you need Bok? He left; you won’t find him.” I never realized he had an accent, unfortunately my mind was not focusing on that. It was focused on the fact that Bokuto wasn’t nearby. My breathing wasn’t getting any calmer.

I did not answer.

Atsumu seemed to be looking for something, then he pulled out his phone and turned on his flashlight and aimed it at me. I squinted my eyes at the sudden brightness and looked away, trying to cover my face. “Hey, don’t- are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying,” He reached out for me and took hold of my hand to uncover my face, pulling his phone away and leading me away from the tree to get the moonlight to help him see and not blind me.

“I don’t know why you needed Bokuto, but I can help you if you need,”

I didn’t move. Glancing at our hands, I squeezed his hand, my actions did not match my words as I said, “Stop being nice, I know you hate me- so just… fuck, look away,” Mid-way through my words, I started crying. I quickly tried to wipe them away, my motions were stopped when Atsumu’s hands pried mine from my face. He then pulled me closer and held me tight.

“I’m not looking, I can’t see much right now it’s pretty dark,” I understood what he meant by that and held his sweater tight then started letting all out. I couldn’t formulate any sentences; all I did was let out all the stress and tension that had gathered inside my body from that one short encounter. When I tried to wipe my tears to not wet his clothes, I heard Atsumu chuckle, “Something fun about playing volleyball is that I genuinely couldn’t give more shit about my clothes being wet, usually it’s sweat though but, I’m not picky.”

I let out a breathy laugh and made it obvious enough that I was purposely wiping my tears on his sweater. “Now that’s a bit too much, I’m not your tissue, am I?” He said jokingly, I shrugged, mumbling against his chest, “Don’t let your dreams be dreams…” It elated a loud laugh from the man, he quickly cleared his throat and calmed down, “Not funny, nope.”

We stayed like this a moment until I calmed down.

I could still hear the muffled sound of the party still going on inside the building, but I felt a lot better now, although embarrassed.

I didn’t want to go back inside, and my friends had left. “I should go home…” I said in a low voice, shocking myself with how little energy there was in it.

“I’ll drop you off,” he said while letting go of me. I hadn’t let go right away and heard him made a confused sound as he was about to wrap his arms around me, I let go and stepped back, my cheeks warming up. “Just like that? No questions?” I was confused and felt like an idiot for breaking down in front of the only person who I thought would laugh at me for doing so. Instead, he was humane.

He was about to talk once more, but I was faster, “I’d imagine you nosy, and curious,” I stated, looking anywhere but at him.

“Yeah? That proves you don’t know me, not that you ever tried.”

“Neither did you, Miya. You think I’m a bitch just because I’m not as loud as your friends, or as easily readable as Hinata. And yet, you get along with Sakusa, can you feel the irony?”

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. I sighed and sat on the ground, looking at the sky. “To be honest it’s tiring, it stresses me out to be around you,”

“What?” He sounded utterly confused. I continued, “You know, Bokuto’s an emotional drunk,” I paused, Atsumu agreed. “He cried when you left. I told him you hated me, and he broke down in tears because all he wants is for us to get along,” So do I, I want us to get along. The way Bokuto talked about him made him sound funny, but every time he was around me, he turned sour and just kept being a bitch.

“Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about it and when I followed you and called out your name you just completely ignored me, so there’s that.” I shrugged before wrapping my arms around my knees. I felt Atsumu sit beside me and do the same as me, “I don’t remember that, when was that?” I grimaced, “Yeah, figured. But like, don’t make it sound like you would have listened if you had heard me. You can be real with me and just,” I waved his way, motioning to his entire being, “Drop the fake-niceties. You’re being too civil right now, it looks weird on you,”

I said that, but what I meant is that it weirded me out, more than it looked weird on him. Not having him frowned at all my words, not having him huff all the time, or look mad… it felt strange, and I was not against it. “I’m not a bastard-“ I did not control the snort that escaped my body. Atsumu scoffed, “See! This is why you’re unsufferable!”

“Uh? Excuse me? Who’s the one who keeps assuming shit about the other? Because it’s not me, I’m living my best life and you’re just, constantly mad at me. And you’re assuming wrong shit too? All in all, your vision of me is wrong, and you hate that same vision you built of me,” I fully turned to look at him, my speech getting faster, my tone a bit higher, my frustration growing. “Don’t you understand it’s completely stupid? Don’t you realize you look like an idiot? I’m sure you’d be great company, if you weren’t exactly what you say you’re not: a bastard.”

I pushed his legs, “So to make things clear, because that’s what confuses you and maybe you’re not smart enough to read me: I feel scared, I feel embarrassed and I feel frustrated, all of this at this very moment. I’m not a fucking gold fish, and I’m sure gold fish have emotions too, okay?”

I finally let out a breath I felt like I was holding and met Atsumu’s wide eyes, he was looking at me speechless. He opened his mouth once, closed, twice, closed. Then he hummed. “Whatever, at least act neutral around me, bear through that hate because Bokuto’s sad.” I huffed, about to get up. Before I could, Atsumu pulled me down and looked at me with a worried expression.

“Do I make you that unsafe? I didn’t-“ “It’s not you, it’s…“ I shook my head, deciding against telling me. “All you make me feel is bad about myself,”

The blond frowned, any smile on his face disappearing. “I… didn’t know,”

“Of course, you didn’t! How could you? Your assumption is: the emotionless bitch,” I huffed. My heart was beating faster, for some reason. Letting it all out was one thing, but bearing the consequences of telling him, I was afraid he’d get mad anyway. I knew that talking some sense into him would be hard, but I felt like I went too hard with how he looked.

“Why are you scared then, if not because of me? Are you sure it’s not because of me? I can go-“

I wanted to roll my eyes, but instead I grabbed his sleeve to stop him from leaving, “No, no it’s not you. Your presence is… different than usual, so it’s kind of soothing if anything.” I told him, thinking of how to word it. I couldn’t really tell him that if I ended up alone once again, I’d feel a lot less safe.

His usual cocky tone was back, he did not mention what I told him about his actions but instead said, “It feels like you’re avoiding answering my question though,”

Taking a deep breath, I sighed and looked at him in the eyes, “There was this dude the entire evening, he kept looking at me. I ignored it, because … I’m not interested or anything, but when I tried to go after you, he blocked my path. Then he started making advances, and tried to make out or something, I kicked him in the balls and … all that jazz, then made a run for it.” I explained, adding that that’s why I wanted to find Bokuto. I didn’t want to be alone.

Atsumu’s tone seemed determined as he asked where the guy was, he tried to get up, but I pulled him down with force once more. “Why would you go after him?”

“Oh, you think I’m letting this man go ‘bout his life like that? Fucking asshole,” He started mumbling more insults, his blood boiling. He tried to get up once more, not listening to me. His accent seemed a lot stronger now he had lost his cool, I wanted to laugh but the panic of being alone was stronger.

“Atsumu!! I don’t care if you want to beat his ass-“

“Then let me go!”

I tried to make him understand what I wanted; I gave him an intense look, but he was confused. “I-“ I stopped talking and looked away before letting him go. “Whatever, you’re free to do as you please, go,” I shooed him away. Grabbing my bag to get my phone. Atsumu asked me what I was doing, “I’m calling Bokuto,”

“Why? I told you, he’s somewhere, but-“ I heard the ringtone coming from Atsumu, and gave him a confused look. “He left his phone, so…”

“Great. Fantastic, yeah, well. Have fun proving you’re the alpha or something,” I shrugged. I was acting almost as childish as him right now, but I didn’t want to straight up admit what I wanted.

Atsumu didn’t move. He stayed right where he was, after a few moments he sat back down. “You confuse me, I don’t get what you’re doing,” He stated, looking at me, lost. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me without blinking.

I only saw his look from glancing his way, but I wasn’t facing him. I spelled it out for him, articulating each word, feeling my throat tighten as I said them, “I don’t want to be alone. Because if he finds me before you find him, I don’t know…” I ended up mumbling the last part.

All that left Atsumu’s lips was an ‘Ah’ before he scooted closer. “Alright, well, as your knight in shining armor I can’t let you down, you know.”

“You’re not a knight, you just have the privilege of being very muscly and intimidating.” I said as I rested my chin on my knees when I brought them to my chest.

The blond was humming, thinking, not replying right away. He did not say much about what happened, and I was thankful for that. I already felt like an idiot for breaking down in front of him out of everyone, so if he had brought it up, I would have died on the spot. But with him next to me, it felt almost relaxing. A lot different than the mood in the car. Almost as if things had slightly cleared up, but I must have been imagining things.

“So, I’m a bastard, muscly, intimidating, very bad at reading people,” As he started listing tings, I was nodding along, saying ‘yes’ until he said the last one, “And hot” “Yes- Wait, I didn’t say that. The other stuff I said, yeah, but not the last one,”

Pointing at me, he grinned, “Haha, you said I was hot, you said it, I heard it, it’s out there now,”

Rolling my eyes, I slowly faced him and observed him a moment, trying to assess what was his deal, “What’s with the change of attitude? Aren’t you supposed to hate me?” I did not mind him being playful, but once again… it was strange, and if he was doing that just because I felt bad, I didn’t need it. Feeling a bit cold, I started rubbing my hands on my arms, still focused on Atsumu.

The man sighed and rested his chin on his fist. Like me he had brought his knees to his chest, but what differed was that he was pouting right now, I was not. “See, I never said I hated you,”

“Perhaps not, but your actions told me otherwise,” Never have I ever felt welcomed in his presence, he made it very obvious he did not like me.

“Hey, your actions are also very much not-lovey, okay?” He said in a defensive tone, I met that tone with a quirked brow. “Is that so? What did I ever do to you Miya?” From what I remembered I acted the same around him that I did around the others. Perhaps a bit colder since I was not friend with the man, but I never disrespected him.

“You make it very obvious you don’t want to be around me!” “How so?”

“You don’t smile, you don’t laugh- the constant glaring, the whispers with Bok- and now I know it’s ‘cause you don’t like me and not ‘cause you’re being emotionless, you made it clear.” He blurted out. It seemed he had that list at the ready, and he needed to let it all out. But I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“So… you act like a little bitch because, according to you, I don’t like you? Because everyone should like you, right?”

“Yes!! People always love me, I’m handsome, funny, a great guy really, but you hate me, it doesn’t make sense, what did I ever do to you?”

Sucking my teeth in, I smacked my lips, “Well, it seems it’s a bit of a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah? What’d’ya mean?” He asked. I smiled to myself, hiding behind my hand as I pondered on how to word it. The first time I saw him, he looked very handsome, that’s why I stared at him. Clearly first impression made the lasting impression… “First, I’ll admit you’re funny. I just don’t laugh as loud as Kou, if we can call that a laugh. I’d say a bark would be more fitting. But I do find you funny, you just need to pay more attention.” I shrugged.

He frowned, “That doesn’t explain the rest!”

“When did I glare at you?” “The day we met! When I told Bok, he said I wouldn’t understand,”

I rolled my eyes, why had he said that to him? For the love of God, he made a bigger deal out of this than it was meant to be. “Yeah? Well, believe it or not, I was checking you out.” I stated, not looking at him.

“You what?” He moved suddenly and was now crouching weirdly next to me, pulling at my leg, literally, to get my attention, “What? You what? You’re kidding right?”

Facing him, I gave him a deadpanned expression, “Do I look like I’m kidding? And while I’m at it, the whispers could have been one of those three things,” I emphasized by raising a finger at each count, “Number one: ‘he’s cute’, number two: ‘Bro where is the food?’ and last but not least, it does vary” I paused, feeling a bit more hurt when saying this one, “Did I say something mean? Why is he looking at me like that? Why does he hate me?”

Before he could say anything, I placed both my hands on the ground and was about to stand up, “Anyway, great talking to you, that’s enough opening up for one night-“ “Hey, no, no, you don’t get to go! We’re making progress,” He gripped my hand and pulled me back before I could fully stand up. I clicked my tongue against my teeth, annoyed, but did not say anything. It was humiliating enough to have told him that, but now I knew it flattered him. His ego was only boosted from this.

“No, because this changes everything!” Dear fuck, no.

Feeling my back ache, I laid on the ground and asked, absentmindedly “Does it, now? How so? You were still a bastard to me, no amount of charm can save that, Miya.” I regretted saying the last part, thinking he would feel even bolder after hearing me tell him he had charm.

There was a silence. A long one.

After a few minutes, Atsumu laid down next to me. “I’m sorry, I thought you hated me for no reason. I clearly misread… Everything… It also ticked me off that you were so stoic all the time… I was trying to get you angry for a good reason, not just because you randomly hated me, you know? Does that make sense?”

To be fair, I didn’t see the logic behind that. I was a bit confused too, but he seemed genuine in his apology. “It makes some sort of sense, albeit being a bit of an immature reaction… Clearly, we started on the wrong foot,” I told him in all honesty.

Both of us were silent for a moment. He was right, it indeed changed everything. This entire time we had known one another, we had acted like assholes for nothing. I wanted to ask him what he wanted to do now that this was cleared up, but I also felt like he wouldn’t care. But he surprised me.

“Do you wanna start over?” I heard Atsumu ask in a somewhat shy voice. I stared at the sky with wide eyes. Had he asked that? I didn’t mind that.

Not really knowing how to do it, I quickly sitting up and looked at his still laying form. “Come on,” I hurried for him to sit up, he did, a bit lost. Reaching out for a handshake, I waited for him to take it, when he did, I told him my full name, “Nice to meet you, I’m Bokuto’s best friend and I really have to pee,”

Atsumu snorted a laugh and shook my hand, “I’m Miya Atsumu, the best volleyball player you’ll ever meet, and I’ll escort you to the bathroom,” chuckling at that, I accepted his offer. He got up and helped me to my feet before telling me to go first. Shaking my head, I told him to go first, “That way you’re my shield and I get to take a look at those cakes,” I said jokingly. Shit, no, no, not that friendly yet, I thought.

He had pulled out his phone at this very moment, his screen lighting his face. I could see the way his cheeks turned pink when I said that. “In a friendly way! Tell me not to do it, I won’t, I was joking,” I said quickly when started walking. Looking over his shoulder, he shook his ass, “Nah look, I don’t go to the gym 4 times a week for nothing,” We both laughed as we made our way inside.

Before we entered the bar, Atsumu stopped dead in his track, making me bump in his back. I swore under my breath and stepped back, looking at him curiously. “Grab my shirt, I’m not losing you in the crowd,” He said seriously. It was sort of cute how he was suggesting this seriously, but I couldn’t help but grin, “Is this like a third-grade school trip? I think I’ll easily find that little mop of yours, among those people, that is if I lose you-“ “And I’ll find yours, which means the bastard will too, okay?”

I was taken aback by his bluntness, but he was right. His reminder made me feel my stomach churn, in the little time I had spent with Atsumu, I had made sure to try to forget about the incident. But I couldn’t just do that, not when the party was still going on. “Okay… sure, but can I instead hold your arm or something, it feels very childish to hold onto your shirt Miya,”

His expression changed from seriousness to bashfulness when he looked away and reach out for my hand, “If you wanted to hold my hand so bad you could have just asked,” He started, adding over his shoulder, “And it’s Atsumu, Miya’s for people who hate me,” He grinned happily. I sped up to be at his pace, “You seem to be too much at ease to switch from hate to flirting, Atsumu,”

His name rolled strangely off my tongue, but I was willing to make the effort. After all, I had a new friend, the least I can do is respect his preferences. His answer was to walk faster, his hand still gripping mine tight. I don’t know why, but I didn’t mind, his stupidly rough hand and his complete change of attitude made him somewhat enjoyable to be around.

As we zig-zagged in the crowd, I felt someone touch my shoulder but didn’t look at it. Only gripping Atsumu’s hand tighter. Instead of reacting out of panic, I thought: it’s alright, it must be an accidental bump, nothing much, people having fun. Then it happened again, it was with more force this time, I had to look around. When I did, I saw the man from earlier, I pulled Atsumu’s arm urgently, earning an annoyed ‘what’ when he turned around.

“Tha’ your frien’? The one tha’ was ignoring you? Mmmm? Where were you goin’ with ‘im?” My heart was in my throat, I felt sick. Insistent people were annoying enough as it was, but add alcohol to the mixt? Awful. They seemed to be even less aware of their action, and a lot more sensitive to whatever was being told to them. I hated it. “Ye bit me,” he went to grab my arm, but I pulled it back before he could, “You’re playin’ hard to get, I like that ‘bout a girl, feisty and all-“ Before I could tell him off, Atsumu stepped forward and punched him.

“That’s for being fucking disgusting,” Was what he said, then punched him again, “That’s for being a creep,” He raised his fist again, I quickly grabbed his hand and lowered it, twisting his arm in a weird angle which force him to stop. “Hey hey hey, it hurts, let go-“ “Can you please stop? Let’s just go,” The man behind Atsumu was being checked by people around, it annoyed the blond, I could see it, but he did not say anything. “Right, bathroom first.” He said as he pushed me towards the bathroom.

I tried to stop him from pushing me, but he kept on doing that until we were in the corridor. “I’ll watch over here, no one’s gonna bother you,” I gave him the semblant of a smile and entered the bathroom. When I did, only a few seconds after did I hear Atsumu’s voice yell that the man he had punched was a bastard who tried to take advantage of someone. I tuned out from his little speech, feeling embarrassed but also, strangely, warm? He was being over the top, but I think he was trying to do something good.

The muffled sound of what was going on outside of this room felt peaceful. I could finally hear my thoughts, hear how fast my heart was beating. Looking up from the sink, I finally saw how bad I looked. I was shaken, my hair more messy than usual, my eyes were glassy. When I glanced at my collarbone, I saw the redness from when the man nipped at my skin. “Gross,” I mumbled as I grabbed some toilet paper, wetted it and added some soap before scrubbing the spot.

Am I overreacting? No, he’s fucking disgusting. He didn’t do much though, but he could have. It’s been so long since some shit like this happened, I can’t make a big deal out of it, it’s stupid- A knock interrupted my thoughts, “Hey you good in there? The water’s been running for a while now, can I come in? I’m coming in-“ I dropped the paper towel in the trash and turned around to look at Atsumu with a bored expression.

“What if I was doing super private? You’re lucky there isn’t anyone else in the stalls, you’d be kicked out,” I said with a short laugh as I grabbed my bag, Atsumu stopped me and looked at me with a frown. “Why are you red?” He asked sternly.

“Maybe it’s an allergy,” I trailed off.

He shook his head, “But it’s not though, you didn’t do that to yourself, right?” “Dear- no no, I didn’t- maybe, kind of but no,” It wasn’t a good enough answer for him. The expression on his face was one I had never seen yet, perhaps had I never paid enough attention, or perhaps had he never shown it to me, but whichever it was, I felt guilty for making him look like this.

“Just the weird dude tried to kiss me or something, I don’t know, a bite, a nip, call it what you want. I didn’t want to see it, so I scrubbed it… It feels gross, I know it’s nothing and you might say I’m overreacting but I feel violated and-“ My breath caught in my throat, I swallowed my saliva and took a few deep breaths to talk down, “And it’s over, so yeah, let’s leave-“

“I wouldn’t say you’re overreacting; I think someone was a real jerk and like, invaded your personal space, and you’re definitely in the right to feel like that, you know? I feel like you don’t need me to feel sorry for you… so uh, you’re strong, and he’s got a big black eye, and he’s pretty lucky I didn’t rip his tongue off,” Atsumu said quickly, his eyes trying to catch mine, but I was playing with my hands, listening to each word leaving his lips.

If someone asked me, I would have said I didn’t need to hear those things. But it would have been a lie. I never would have thought hearing someone else tell me I was feeling something valid would make me feel so relieved. With shaky breaths, I looked up, eyes tearing up and shoved his shoulder playfully, “I was kidding when I said you had to prove you were the alpha or something,” I sniffed and wiped the tears that were threatening to fall, “You’ll be lucky if no one jumps you when we leave, you’re impulsive,”

“He deserved it! And he was ugly, now he’ll have to go home knowing someone so much hotter than him beat him up, and that he lost,” I laughed breathlessly at his words, rubbing the spot on my collarbone absentmindedly. “Well, I think he could have used a bit more kicks in the balls,” I said jokingly.

Nudging my shoulder, Atsumu said, “It can be arranged, you know,”

“Nah, we’re good, let’s just… Leave,” I said that, but I didn’t move. Nor did Atsumu. Someone walked behind us, and we waited until they were done cleaning their hands, and the door slammed behind them, to finally say something. “D’ya got lipstick?” Atsumu asked in hushed whisper, poking my bag.

Quirking a brow in confusion, I rummaged through my bag but didn’t find any. Instead, I found a pink highlighter, I was going to shove it back when Atsumu grabbed it, “That’ll do!” He uncapped it and started coloring his lips, I considered stopping him, but it was very fascinating and a bit funny.

“When’s your birthday? I might buy you one if you think that’s your color,” I said, huffing a laugh. Atsumu motioned for me to wait, a finger raised. I did just that.

When he was done, he handed me the highlighter back. “Stop me if you feel uncomfortable,” He said a bit too suspiciously.

I gave him a nervous smile, then he started leaning in, I leaned back avoiding his face then noticed he wasn’t trying to kiss me. Instead, he went lower and pressed his lips on the redder part of my skin, on my collarbone. I felt my heartbeat speed up but didn’t say anything. He quickly pulled back, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. “There! Now it’s not weird, it’s pretty, and it’s not him, it’s me, I think it’s a great upgrade.”

My cheeks were heating up as I gazed down at the kiss mark on my skin. We could barely see it, but I knew it was there. I could still feel the pressure of his lips against my skin. Tearing my gaze from it, I went to take some paper towel and wetted it, then grabbed Atsumu’s chin and proceeded to wipe his lips properly. “I don’t want you to lick your lip and just- eat the ink like a child- hey stop moving, you did that to yourself.” “You could at least say something!”

When I was done, I threw the paper towel but did not trust my voice to make any sort of coherent sound. Atsumu’s voice however had no problem to spur complete idiocies, “Nooo, don’t go all mute on me, you’re so sexy-“ “Did you really just say that?”

“And I stand by it,” He opened the door and told me to lead the way. The conversation was paused while we made our way outside, the loud music and people made it almost impossible to hear one another. What I could hear was the loud whines of the man at the bar while the bartender was tending to his ‘wounds’ which consisted of one black eye and that’s it. Rolling my eyes, I picked up the pace and exhaled loudly when I reached the outside, fresh air hitting my face instead of gross drunken air.

With Atsumu still behind, I pulled out my phone to look at what he had left on my skin. I pull out the flash to see properly. Idiot… why is it nice… no, no, it’s nothing, it’s just that, nice. Nothing more. Good method to hide the gross ass mark, good for me. Yeah.

“Ah! Soooo you like it so much you’re taking a pic of it? Bring me lipstick next time, I’ll leave an even better mark, maybe two-“ “I’m not taking a picture, I was checking-“ “It out, you were checking it out, because it’s hot, right?”

Maybe. “I think I preferred bastard Miya to loud Atsumu,” I taunted him, hoping he wouldn’t take it wrong. I was caught off guard when he looped his arm around my shoulders, “Nah ye don’t, come on, I’ll get you home,” “Thank God you didn’t say you’d bring me to your place, I would have gagged,” I joked, earning a scoff from the player. He bumped my hips with his, “You know what? It’s actually a great suggestion! I think the night’s just started, maybe we could watch a movie or something?”

My instinct was to refuse his offer. But then again, I would have to stay awake until I got news from Bokuto’s wellbeing, may it be from Kuroo’s phone or a new number if Hinata was still alive. “Don’t you try weird shit, I’m not falling asleep at your place, and it better not be freezing- and also it better not smell-“ “Alright, alright, I get it! My place’s pretty clean ye know? I barely spend time there, how can I dirty it?”

“Right. No weird shenanigans, okay?” Waving me off, Atsumu agreed, telling me it was going to be alright. He unlocked the car and we slipped in, finally surrounded by a comfortable silence.

I let my head hit the back of the seat and exhaled loudly, “How about we go get some food first?”

“Sounds like a plan! You pay for it since I’m paying for the gas of this beautiful baby,” He said as he gently slapped the car door. Giving him an incredulous smile, I said, “Yeah… No, I’m paying for my shit, you pay for yours,”

He threw his hands in an over exaggerated manner, “Fine! But I choose the movie then!”

“I genuinely couldn’t care less of what we’re watching, you do what you want-“ “Wall-E it is,” He started as he started the car, “I think it’s a poetic start to this relationship,”

“Fine by me, I’ve never seen it anyway,” I shrugged as I buckled my seatbelt. I regretted saying this when he looked at me in pure shock and started telling me how it made sense that I made such a bad metaphor.

God was this ride going to be long. But at least, I was no more bathed in tension and feeling the urge to jump off the car. I was feeling pretty content right now, and perhaps Bokuto was right. Perhaps Miya Atsumu was funny and just a little bit cool.

Just maybe.

[reqvlvs]

I wondered what you thought about Eddie's trauma and the way he deals with it, which always felt close to home due to his unhealthy coping mechanisms (anger management, etc.), do you feel like it's nearly suicidal (at least during the street fighting) or is it something else? (Always thought there was too much guilt for it to be only control-)

I thought when I first saw the scene between Eddie and Bobby, when they finally talk, that they should put an emphasis on the control part, like- It felt like it was downplayed (somewhat?), like they tried to make it only about his stoic facade when I think it could have been a nice way (narratively and development wise) to introduce more plainly his toxic relationship with his parents (his suffocating life and his insistance to not have Chris be with them and be trente-deux like he did). Because it could have opened the door on the stigma of power being a trait/need for men, an idea that could have been drilled by his father... (which they implied/not really talked about during his fights with Shannon)

Also, I read one of your rants, and that made me remember, one of the things I hate the most when reading Buddie fanfics is when they make Buck react about the Street Fighting by making him say stupid things like, did you think about Christopher, the people who love you, your job, ect, like he didn't have it in mind, like it doesn't contribute to his pain- When you're feeling down, or worse when you're depressed, you isolate yourself, you make it all about you because it's all you can see- Those people then try and teach a lesson when they're the ones who make depressed people feel like they are worthless- I just can't (it's not necessarly true to every single one of them but it's still too true)

Anyways :')

I'm trying to write this fanfic but can't seem to find motivation- Your posts were a really funny distraction! So thank you 💞💞

(PS: Castiel and Crowley were a fantastic duo that I would have loved to see together lol)

Hey! thank you so much for this and i will be more than happy to answer because i have a lot of opinions on this topic

First of all i wouldn't say his actions (regarding street fighting) were suicidal simply because of the fact that he had Chris and didn't want to let Chris down. however, i do think it has a lot to do with wanting to use the physical pain to distract from the emotional pain that he was dealing with. personally i believe he was raised in a household where it was drilled into him that men don't feel, and when they do they get over it, hence why we see him get back to work so quickly after Shannon's death. he wasn't raised with the mind set that what he was feeling was normal and something he didn't just have to get over. the ladder truck plus the tsunami ON TOP of shannon's death just made a whole mess of his emotions and the only one he really understood was his anger. his guilt he felt towards not saving shannon (or maybe the belief that he caused her death) and for buck and christopher during the tsunami manifested itself in this uncontrollable rage that he couldn't figure out how to let out.

in the talk with Bobby you come to realize how much they didn't really know about eddie regarding Shannon because he kept it mostly hidden. they didn't even find out until way after she died that she wanted a divorce. they assume control is the reason eddie is the way he is, because he's always the one in control of everything but frankly, he isn't and that's why he's so angry. even before, he wasn't in control when shannon left him. he wasn't in control regarding the way his and shannon's marriage (was going to, anyways) ended. he wasn't in control of the situation when buck was stuck under the truck. he wasn't in control when christopher was lost. he's always losing his grip on all these situations and he can't do anything about it and he's angry because he just wants to be able to control something in his life.

and honestly i think it does have a lot to do with his parents, again. he was raised (in my opinion) with the idea that he was the man, he was the husband, he was the father, he was the provider and he was to stay in control of everything around him. he tried to keep that for so long, he tried his hardest to be the one who dictated and handled situations and once he realized that he couldn't, he was angry. he felt disappointed in himself for not being what was expected of him. i think another part of his anger regarding his parents is the simple fact that his parents were constantly pointing out what he was doing wrong with christopher and showing him how he was a terrible father for "letting" his wife die after coming back into christopher's life. another way of proving the thought they drilled in his need for control all his life.

and you make an extremely valid point in regards to the street fighting thing!! they make it seem like eddie was unaware of the fact that buck and christopher and the 118 were there when he was more then aware of the fact that they were there, he just didn't want to hurt him. coming back to the control thing, maybe he felt like if he could just hold on to this one thing that he knew he had control of, it'd be fine, and soon enough he wouldn't he angry more and he'd stop. obviously that wasn't the case and frankly that's why i think he was so mad at Lena when he thought she told Bobby. he truly thought he had the handle on the situation, he got control of who did and didn't know, but suddenly someone else had that control and he was once again thrown off by the lose.

i know i went on about control even thought it wasn't the main focus, but i think there's a lot more to it than they were implying.

thank you so much!! im glad my posts helped and im super excited about your fic :))

(castiel and crowley are literally everything to me)

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 2

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Chapter 2:

The journey to Mother Miranda’s personal laboratory was much shorter and more enjoyable than the original walk to the meeting site, in Salvatore’s humble opinion.

Mother Miranda was mostly quiet, distant, and preoccupied throughout the duration of the walk, even more so than normal. That being said however, while this sort of behavior would usually spell disaster for whichever one of the 4 lords was forced to be in her presence during these sorts of moods, in this situation, Mother Miranda did not appear tense or agitated or hostile like she usually would be. Just lost in thought. As though she were only quiet because she was too busy thinking about something else to speak. She didn’t even seem to mind his various attempts at starting conversation, which surprised, but endlessly delighted, the mutant man.

‘Mother must be in a very good mood today. She hasn’t hit me or told me to shut up the whole time we’ve been together. Maybe she’s made another breakthrough with the cadou? I’d certainly be very happy if I were in her shoes’ Salvatore excitedly thought to himself as the woman in question stepped forward to unlock and open the large steel door of her personal laboratory, allowing Salvatore to step into the facility before closing and locking it again behind her.

“Moreau, do you recall the set of mutation experiments I began at the beginning of last year?” The raven mother asked, turning around and beginning to quickly make her way down the long, dark corridor.

“Y-you mean… the o-ones with the new c-cadou strain th-that I… that I d-developed… f-for you?” Salvatore stutters, breath labored and body struggling to keep up with the taller woman’s vastly larger steps.

“Correct” Mother Miranda says, turning a corner. “As impressed as I was with the final results of this particular strain, I’m afraid it still isn’t good enough. None of the subjects I implanted with cadou last year turned out to be favorable candidates.”

Salvatore stops in his tracks, a look of horror and agony on his face as news that he’d failed mother once again practically tears him apart from the inside out. “O-oh Mother… I-im so s-s-sorry to h-hear that… b-but don’t w-worry… I’ll-I’ll try h-harder next t-time… I w-won’t fail y-you again Mother, so p-please… please j-just give me a-another chance to get it r-right… i b-beg of y-you…”

Mother Miranda stops and turns toward the mutated lord, staring at him in silence as he drops to his knees and grovels at her feet, begging desperately for his failures to be forgiven.

“Off your knees, Moreau, this behavior is unbecoming of a Lord such as yourself. Besides, I never said that you were the one to blame for the lack of successful results, nor am I necessarily displeased by the fact that these experiments yielded failed vessels.”

Salvatore allows his gaze to rise to his mother’s face, where, true to her words, the parts of Miranda’s face that Salvatore could make out from behind her mask did not appear marred with the familiar expressions of anger and disappointment that the 4 lords were usually met with after another round of failed vessels.

“Y-you’re… you’re not upset with m-me?” The deformed man asks, his voice laced with shock and disbelief.

“No, my child, I’m not upset with you. While these experiments may have ended in failure, they did provide me with useful information that may prove to be pertinent to our mission in the near future. In fact, as I said earlier, the reason why I’ve brought you here is because I want to give you a gift, as a reward for all your incredible work. Did you expect me to be upset with you simply because this round proved unsuccessful as well? Do you really think so poorly of your loving mother, who works tirelessly to ensure her children are happy and rewarded for all their faith and trust in me?” Mother Miranda sniveled pitifully, turning her gaze away in mock dejection as Salvatore, horrified that he’d insulted and hurt her somehow, scrambles to his feet, gently taking both of Miranda’s hands into his own and holding the supple skin to his bloated and deformed face, desperately hoping this would comfort her.

“No no no no, o-of course n-not, Mother… I-I’d never expect s-something like th-that from y-you… and-and I k-know better… b-better than a-anyone… just h-how h-hard you w-work… not j-just on y-your experiments… but f-for all o-of us… too… you l-l-love us… you… love ME… I-I’ll always love y-you, Mother… always” Salvatore blurts, stumbling over his words as he tries desperately to comfort Mother Miranda, an effort he’s seemingly rewarded for, when Miranda takes one of her hands away and brings it back to the top of Salvatore’s head, once again gently brushing her hand against it.

Salvatore’s knees nearly give out from under him as the heavenly sensation washes throughout his body like a raging typhoon, leaving him feeling tired and weak yet hungry and wanting for more, though whatever that “more” was, Salvatore was quick to beat it back down deep within himself, knowing this was neither the time nor the place for him to be entertaining such… primal desires about someone like Mother Miranda, no matter how little he intends to act on them.

“Thank you, Moreau. You always know exactly what to say to make Mother feel better. You’re such a good boy” Mother Miranda says, making sure to put extra emphasis onto the last two words as she reaches forward and pulls Salvatore closer to her.

“G-g-g-gggg… good… boy… me?” Salvatore chokes, tears beginning to fill his eyes as Mother Miranda’s arms come to wrap around him, pushing the deformed man’s face to lean against the soft, feathery material of her bosom.

“Yes, Moreau. You’ve always been very special to me. From the day I met you, you’ve been such a good, well-behaved boy that I never have to worry about” Miranda begins, her face blank and expressionless as she passionlessly strokes Salvatore’s face. “No matter how simple the task, those 3 are always making mistakes of some kind and forcing me to come and clean up their messes after them, especially that snake Heisenberg. But you? No, never you, Moreau, not my special, perfect little boy who always tries his best to make Mother happy. Do you enjoy making Mother happy, Moreau?”

“Y-y-yES! Of-of c-course I do” Salvatore moans, his voice slightly muffled by Miranda’s chest as he violently nods his head in affirmation, tears freely falling from his eyes as his head swims deliriously from the endless wave of kind words and gentle touches.

“Good! I always knew you did. And for that, I'm going to reward you with something very special. Something to… keep you busy... while I’m away for a little while” The raven mother coos again.

Salvatore stops for a moment when the meaning of Miranda’s words finally registers in his brain. “While… w-while you’re… away? You’re l-leaving us?” Salvatore asks, his voice growing increasingly distressed with each word.

“Only for a short time, hopefully,” Mother Miranda answers, “but yes, at the end of this month, I will be leaving the village in order to attend to some very important business I have. I’m not sure how my journey will fare, however I'm optimistic that it will be the key necessary to finally getting my Ev- uh… pardon me; the key to finally achieving our goal of creating a perfect vessel. Doesn’t that sound nice, Moreau?”

“It-it does” the deformed man says quietly, still put off by the mention of Mother leaving, but not wanting to put a damper on his mother’s incredibly rare good mood. “But… where is i-it… th-that you’ll be g-going… an-and for h-how long?”

“Just down the mountain to pay someone a visit, however I have no idea when I'll be back. That will depend on how successful my mission goes, I suppose.”

Silence falls over the two as Salvatore, still upset by the news that Mother Miranda would be leaving, continues to take in the comfort and warmth of his Mother’s arms for just a moment longer, selfishly wishing that Mother held him more often. Eventually however, Mother Miranda does pull back from the superficial embrace, gesturing for Salvatore to follow her once more, which the deformed man begins to do without question.

“Of the 4 of you, you’re the last one to come and pick your gift,” Miranda says, unaware of the visible slump that Salvatore’s shoulders take on upon hearing this. “However, despite there only being one option left, it would appear as though your siblings have decided to spare you their usual games of trickery this time around. If anything, I think you might be the one to have ended up with the best deal after everything is said and done.”

Salvatore looks up at Mother Miranda with an expression of mild confusion, wondering what on earth she could mean by that. His musings are quickly interrupted however, when the two enter a large room filled with various pods.

“Of the 22 test subjects we started with last year, only 13 were genetically compatible with the cadou parasite, and even then, only 4 ended up surviving the full mutation phase. Despite their impressively stable conditions, they still aren’t suitable vessels for my purposes, however I felt as though it would be such a waste to just do away with them. So, with that in mind, I’ve decided that my gift to you all, before I must leave you for a time, is to give one test subject to each of you.”

“G-give? You’re… y-you’re giving us t-test subjects?” Salvatore repeats dumbly, not certain he understood where this was going.

“Correct” Mother Miranda affirms. “This is easily the most successful batch of mutations we’ve seen to date, and given the amount of time and effort I poured into making sure these last 4 survived until now, I’d at least like to see some use gotten out of them before they die or suddenly lose control of their mutations and go rogue.”

“Like… l-like what?” The hooded man asks nervously.

Miranda merely shrugs her shoulders, uncaring. “Anything you like. Housekeeper. Playmate. Labrat. Partner in Crime. Whatever it is you desire of your gift, you may have without question. And in the event they refuse you… well, you’ll at least have a fun little toy to chase after for a little while.”

“I... see...” Salvatore says quietly, growing less and less excited about this whole “gift” thing, now that he knows that his gift is just another person.

Another person to scream and wail at how unbelievably hideous and disgusting of a monster he looks, no doubt.

Without another word, Miranda heads over to the large control table located in the middle of the room, pressing a few buttons before 4 of the many identical pods begin moving toward them. Steam pours out the tops and bottoms of the metal pods as the large capsules slowly finish lowering themselves from their hung pedestals, displaying them directly in front of Miranda and Salvatore.  The man in question stands anxiously in front of the still sealed door, nervously fidgeting with his fingers as he waits for Mother to show him his gift, a myriad of thoughts and fears and worries flying throughout the mutant man’s mind.

“The first 3 have already been chosen by your siblings, but the one on the far right is all yours” Miranda says, pushing another button that causes the singular pod in question to click open, its door slowly beginning to rise upward toward the ceiling.

Salvatore nods in understanding as he tries to avoid watching the door of the pod open, instead hyper focusing on what Miranda is saying as the tension in the room becomes so thick it feels as if it could be cut with a dull knife.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of waiting, the pod door finally finished opening, and in that exact moment, as the disfigured man’s gaze finally fell upon the sight of his gift for the first time, his eyes went wide in shock, his mouth dropped open in disbelief, and his hands fell limply to his side in complete and utter bewilderment at the sight that stood before him.

“That… th-that’s… for me?” Salvatore manages to croak out, his throat suddenly dry as a desert and the air from his lungs having left him the second before.

Raising his hand up toward the creature wired into the pod, the hooded man finds himself unable to look away, feeling almost mesmerized as his mind struggles to figure out whether all this is really happening, or if he’d finally succumbed to the insanity of his condition and dreamt all this up as a sick and twisted way of coping with his soul crushing loneliness. Either one was just as likely at this point.

“I’m sure you’ll still be quite pitiful on the day I have to leave, but at least this way you’ll have something to keep yourself occupied with until I return, yes?” Mother Miranda says smugly, clearly pleased by his reaction. “So, what do you think, Moreau? Do you like the gift I’ve gotten for you?”

It wasn't until after several moments of silence that Salvatore finally responded. After stuttering and slurring unintelligibly over several sentences worth of responses, 2 words, and 2 words alone, finally managed to tumble from the mutant man’s lips, his eyes shining as he finally reached forward enough to slowly and carefully intertwine his fingers with the small and delicate hand of the beautiful young woman that slept peacefully inside the pod.

“She’s perfect!”

[bigfan-fanfic]

Currently listening to Adele rn specifically her 21 album and I just see those songs are Ollie’s and Batdad’s story

I hope you appreciate that instead of doing college coursework, I listened to and analyzed a whole crapton of Adele lmao. I'm really a fan of how songs can be interpreted different ways, so you'll see this in my interpretation of how it fits into the story and my idea of the visuals that come to mind.

Rolling in the Deep - Ensemble number, Batdad, Ollie, Bruce, Selina, Talia, Clark: This story is a messy one, and there's a lot of emotion and hurt here. We've got everyone singing, our main triangle of Batdad, Ollie, and Bruce, along with Selina and Talia who have each been with Bruce and Clark who has pined and longed for both Batdad and Bruce without making a move. Amazing harmonies with Selina, Talia, and Clark singing backup, Batdad, Ollie, and Bruce singing alternating lines until everyone is singing together, voices interweaving in and out of focus. I imagine just this whole thing stripped down, like everyone standing in a circle, nothing else but them in separate spotlights. Maybe for effect it goes acapella at the end and they all stomp and clap to provide a beat.

Rumour Has It - Batdad, Talia (in flashback): Definitely the response from Batdad to finding out Selina and Bruce, but then we also have it as a flashback where Talia sings it to Bruce, threatening to drive a wedge between him and Batdad by telling him about them. I definitely see some kind of tango movement, with Batdad and Talia moving around Bruce, pushing him and forcing him to look at them, always being on opposite sides of him and never acknowledging the other. Maybe in the music video section, the flashback and modern portions blend seamlessly together, switching back and forth between obstructions put between the viewer and the action. The point of this being to show how Bruce is always concerned with how Batdad sees him, but he underestimates him and lies to him, tries to keep him in the dark.

Turning Tables - Ollie and Clark: Because I do want everyone to have somewhat of a happy ending, even Bruce, I'm establishing/suggesting Clark as the future lover of Bruce. But basically this song is Ollie pining over Batdad and trying to get over him despite never having made an emotional pure connection with any other person, and Clark struggling with the fact that he feels things for both men and knows he can't make a move on either. Ollie in a Gotham hotel overlooking the city, looking at Wayne Manor from afar, and Clark floating above watching Gotham from afar.

Don't You Remember - Ollie (flashback) and Bruce (now): This is Bruce and Ollie's feelings for Batdad in song form. Ollie is remembering being with Batdad for moments throughout them knowing each other and regretting never making a move, and Bruce is simply regretting ruining all that he's had with Batdad. Ollie sings the bridge of the song alone, with Bruce singing the final chorus alone, them both singing the last line with uncertainty. Just lots of flashbacks with singing over it - while Ollie sings, just lots of scenes between him and Batdad in golden light - maybe he sings it to Batdad in flashback as they lie together that first time, and Bruce sings it from the Batcave in darkness.

Set Fire to the Rain - Batdad, Talia, Selina, Clark (to Bruce): This is the song for everyone who has loved Bruce. Batdad and Selina harmonize on several lines, while Talia and Clark sing together on others - they alternate lines between the two pairs. We're not shaming Selina here so we're placing emphasis on her feeling used and lied to by Bruce, only knowing at the time he was Batman and not married. It takes place in Wayne Manor, and at points, all four singers are present with Bruce standing impassively in the center, at others, it's one at a time with Bruce reacting appropriately, a flashback of the scene. She feels immense guilt knowing she's been party to breaking up a marriage (and knowing it'll only hurt Gotham in general) and her lines are sung at Bruce angrily, throwing things and pointing accusingly. Talia sings imploringly, because to her, Batdad is holding Bruce back, keeping him from her and his true potential. Her song is her trying to convince him to leave Batdad for someone who can REALLY understand him. She's the most physical, touching Bruce, grabbing him. Batdad is the most subdued, not even looking at Bruce during his flashback, just singing resigned and disappointed. Clark's version of the song is longing, from afar, wishing he could be a part of the relationship or at least confess. In his flashback, he sings, and Bruce doesn't even notice.

He Won't Go - Batdad, Ollie - Batdad in flashback convincing himself to remain with Bruce, convincing himself that he won't go because he loves Bruce and shouldn't leave him. And Ollie still trying to get over Batdad... until somewhere mid-song it shifts, and suddenly Batdad goes to Ollie, and they're singing together, promising to make each other stronger and to never leave each other or stray. Batdad wandering Gotham in early morning or sometime in the early evening (interspersed with Batdad walking towards Bruce who sits in the dark), Ollie at a bar, during the first part of the song, until Batdad arrives at Ollie's hotel and they both go to Ollie's room and hold each other, maybe softly sway together to the beat of the song at the end, smiling.

Take It All - Bruce and Batdad: Bruce is reflecting on what he's done, and how he's treated Batdad, while Batdad is reflecting on his marriage. The song starts out bitter and accusing with Batdad singing to Bruce, but then it shifts to Bruce singing instead, giving Batdad closure and giving him his blessing to go and find something better, assuring him he'll always love him.

I'll Be Waiting - Ollie (flashback and now), Batdad (flashback and now): We see Ollie young and holding Batdad, promising that he'll wait for Batdad no matter how long it takes. And we see Batdad young, singing as he waits for Bruce to return from that initial training trip, slowly becoming more overworked and anxious over the years. And then everything lightens up once more as Batdad and Ollie dance together, and then Ollie proposes to him.

One and Only - Ollie, Bruce(in flashback): Ollie is singing this to Batdad, interspersed with shots of them being married and having their first dance together, the whole League in attendance. Basically just some fluff as Ollie can't quite believe he has the man of his dreams with him and promises devotion to him. The bridge of the song has young Bruce singing backup, symbolizing him helping Batdad let go of his past and move on.

Lovesong - Batdad, Ollie: Just them singing together, loving, and living life together.

Someone Like You- Batdad, Bruce, Ollie: We end on a happy, somewhat wistful note of hope - everyone is a little regretful of the choices they made in their shared past, but Ollie and Batdad have found love, Bruce wishes them well and is back to being Batdad's oldest and dearest friend, and everyone tries to move forward. Maybe at the end Bruce sits down to dinner with Clark and smiles a little.

[bibliocratic]

I come bearing a sort-of fic idea! (Only if you feel inspired to use it, of course 😊) Back in ep 101, Martin figures out that/where the Stranger has taken Jon, and goes all BAMF to save him, using either Web powers or his developing Backup Archivist powers to do it. (Dealer's choice) Some of that sweet sweet emotional h/c...

Dearest anon, this fic has been so long in the writing, and it’s only distantly related to what you asked for. Hope you like it regardless. :)

Set in an S3 AU, implied JonMartin. Tim-centric.

Content warnings for strongly implied graphic violence, canonical S3 captivity and imprisonment, hospitals and hospitalisation.  Rated T for language and implied violence

Jon’s skittering, sprawl-legged slam against the archive door startles Tim from the shadowed walkways of his reveries.

The tilted legs of his chair thump back in a slap to the floor. Almost physically wrenched into the now, there’s a snapback to Tim’s spine, a vice-clench knot tightening in his jaw. His mood cranking up from frosty to furious.

“The fuck?” he barks at the intrusion. His snarling primed with teeth, his temper clawed to rend. He’s up and standing, whereas Jon’s practically handing off the door handle, the impact of his arrival almost knocking his legs out like ten pins from under him. An ugly, airless heaving of his chest. His eyes bloodshot, wild. In the weeks since Tim saw him, his hair has grown out unwashed and limp. His skin shimmering wrong in the light in a way that’s oddly greasy.

He’s a shattering mannequin of a man tending to ruin but Tim’s long pared down his own capacity for compassion. He loads up his questions in their chambers, and he knows where to place emphasis, where to press at the bruising, the soft-tissue targets; where the hell have you been, oh wait, don’t fucking bother, why would you even tell us anything anyway huh, because you don’t even trust us. So why the bloody hell should we care where you go galivanting off to for weeks without a word, fine by us, just fucking peachy.

“Martin,” Jon rasps out finally. His words floundering beached in his mouth, and Tim has never seen this particular mania, this bruise-sick shade of pathetic desperation. “T-tim, please, help, please, god, i-i-it’s Martin.”

Jon’s spasming, quivering hands are staining brown with blood.

-

“He wouldn’t have just left! Not – not like – like this!”

“You mean without saying anything. Not sharing with the class. I dunno, Martin, sounds exactly like something he’d have done. Classic Jon.”

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong!”

“Ha – everything’s wrong. Narrow it down.”

“You know what I mean! Something’s… He should be here, is all I’m saying, and Elias, well he’s useless but he – he knows something, I’m sure of it. We have to do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Find him!”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Huh, what about that? Maybe he’s finally managed to fuck off and leave here, legged it and left the rest of us to rot.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“We should – ”

“No. No, listen, Martin. This isn’t a team sport. Jon made his choice to go this alone. If he’s gone off somewhere, then that’s on him. There’s no ‘we’.”

“There used to be.”

-

Martin didn’t come in for work, and Tim assumed he’d left. Just like Jon.

He’d stewed in that betrayal, pacing lupine and furious, bricking up the walls of himself with his self-righteous anger. Because he’d been right, hadn’t he, he’d been vindicated in his bitterness, because of course Martin had left scurrying after Jon, of course there was never any loyalty to Tim despite his pretensions to their friendship. Of course, Martin hadn’t fucking stayed, and Tim was glad he was gone, free of his nagging and needling and whining.

Tim was acquitted in all his furies, every one of his poisonous doubts. The rose-thorns of his betrayals tore deeper, and he let the wounds fester.

-

Elias arrives in the aftermath.

Jon collapsed not too long ago. Shock and dehydration and whatever the hell happened to him threaded through him like blood poisoning. He’d babbled to the ambulance crews, his tongue a senseless oracle of clowns and skin and blood. They’d given him a shock blanket, the foil treating the light around them erratically, but he kept shaking it off and trying to stand, dressed in grubby boxers, an overlong coat, the fabric worn to grey at the pockets and stretched to billowing at the chest, clearly belonging to Martin.

It was hard for Tim to hate him like that, even as he’d barked at Jon to stay down. Jon’s face a theatre mask of ghoulish blood, begging the paramedics to help Martin, manic and spiralling.

The old bastard had had a heart after all.

There’s a bank of chairs outside the part of the ward where they’re keeping Jon. He’s pin-cushioned with IV’s, a set of machines monitoring his vitals. He wakes fitfully, and every waking is a pitiful confusion before he sinks back under.

Martin’s still in surgery.

Elias, deigning to leave his ivory tower, his face formed in an impeccable replica of concern. He wants to speak to Jon. To have, as he put it, ‘a private word’. He talks a precisely ordered stream of bullshit in his infuriatingly reasonable tone, about all this being such a terrible tragedy, such a blow to their little family, if only they’d known. Poor Martin, of course, what a horrible ordeal, we’ll naturally help him with recovery, cover any time off, no expense considered.

Tim watches his mouth move, and knows in his gut that Elias could have stopped all this.

That he chose not to.

Elias doesn’t get within a hundred feet of Jon. Tim makes sure of it.

-

Jon does not speak for days. Delirious and distraught. Martin’s condition worsens, then stabilises, then lingers at critical. There are several more operations, and Tim does not know what they are doing, only that they are reforming a heap of blood and bone back into a person.

Tim wants to know what happened. Where Jon went, where Martin found him, who he needs to hate.

Tim learns to temper his frustration, the desire for knowing that curls at the bottom of his stomach. It is not a natural wanting, and it’s a spiteful, gleeful action, to deny that rot within him.

-

“Tim?”

“Stay still, boss,” Tim says. “You’ll pull everything out.”

Jon doesn’t say anything more for a long while. Tim shifts uneasy on the chair provided, thinking, hoping that Jon might have sunk back into sleep, when:

“Martin? Is he…?”

Jon turns his head to look at him. His eyes wide, beseeching, wet with fear. Wanting Tim to make this all ok.

Jon’s eyes in this light are a lot like Danny’s. Tim sucks back a hard breath, and doesn’t meet his gaze, and he knows that only distresses Jon further, who will take the avoidance as a death knell, as a punishment he is expecting to have earned.

“He’s alive, boss,” Tim says eventually. The words hard won. “He’s… he’ll be alright.”

That could be a lie. He doesn’t know much these days.

-

“Th-there was a room,” Jon stammers one day. He’s sat up, pillows stuffed behind his back. Tim’s bought him an apple juice carton like you buy for children, and he hasn’t touched it, even to push the plastic straw through the top.

His fingers at his lap twist, twist, twist.

“It must have been a … a factory floor, or something. One of those old textile mills or something, up near Manchester. It used to have those big machines for spinning cotton, there were big, discoloured spaces on the boards where they would have sat. There were columns, load-bearing, every fifty feet or so, and t-the chair that they – they had me tied to was anchored against one of those s-so it didn’t – so I couldn’t move it, or knock it over. I-I don’t know how long I was… I.” Jon stops, out of breath. “I don’t even know the date.”

Tim tells him. Jon blinks, and murmurs ‘oh’ like it’s not what he was expecting. His hands are shaking. Tim should reach out, shouldn’t he, it should not be this difficult to provide comfort.

His hands have forgotten how easily reassurance used to come to him.

“Th-they didn’t, they didn’t hurt me. Not, well, not exactly, I-I-I mean, it wasn’t – they wanted me unharmed.” Jon’s voice has crept small and crouched, words tuck under his tongue. “They were waiting. For the right time. They were going to t-take my, um, my skin. For their – for the ritual.”

“Christ.” Tim hisses out, because that is fucked, this whole thing is fucked. How the hell is this the way their lives have turned.

Only Jon’s fingers, his restless hands make noise for the next minute.

“I don’t know how Martin found me,” Jon says.

Tim has a creeping suspicion. It’s the same thing that helps Tim spits out exactly the right seeds to allow hurt to take root. What told Martin that there was something wrong. He could call it intuition, but that’s not how their world works.

Gifts, of a sort. For their faithful service at the temple of their all-seeing god.

“He tried to get me out. Snuck in somehow, cut the ropes with this – huh, this battered old kitchen knife. But I couldn’t… they’d had me tied to the chair for so long that standing up was… I couldn’t walk, and it’s my fault, he was half-carrying me but – I slowed him down, a-and then Nikola came back. And I couldn’t do, I couldn’t do anything, there’s never anything I can do, and they pulled me away and I. I tried, Tim, I-I tried, and I wasn’t… please, Tim, you’ve got to believe I tried to stop them.”

Jon’s fingers are moving to fist in his hair, yanking, tugging, his spine moving to fold himself over.

“Stop,” Tim says sharply. Trying to loosen Jon’s clenched hold.

“I tried, I tried – everything, I offered them anything they wanted, and they just kept – I-I-I tried, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim replies. Quieter. Softer. Separating Jon’s hands from his hair, pressing them back down to his lap, his burnt one held over the other pocked with worm scars. Tim doesn’t move his own away from the fragile tower they’ve made. “I – I know, Jon.”

“Martin – there was more of them. It was easy for them, to hurt him until he stopped struggling. They didn’t tie him up, they knew they didn’t need to. A-and Nikola, she was… she s-s-smiled as they pushed him over onto his back. She – she kept smiling. And she said they didn’t need the two of us. That they could have a bit of fun, a bit of – ” Jon’s voice chokes horrified. “A bit of practise. And wouldn’t I like that. To watch. To give the Eye something to look at.”

Jon crumples into tears then. In on himself like a disintegrating star. Tim feels cold and distant for a moment as he watches this shipwreck as though through the porthole of another boat. Listening to Jon’s hitching sobbing from elsewhere.

The rage is burning off him to reveal something plain and hideous in its humanity, and Tim hates it.

Jon falls apart, and Tim stays.

-

“You know your Archivist killed them all? He’s got a bit of a temper on him after all. Must be all that repression.”

The newest form of the Distortion still smiles like a headache. Her fingers curve corkscrewing. Tim, who is trying to get a Snickers from the vending machine two wards along from Jon, whips his head around to glower at the unwelcome visitor.

“What do you want?”

The Distortion, who has previously called themselves Michael, and is now still Michael but not entirely, whose face has refracted into a different form – there’s been a sort of change in management, if you like, except, well, that’s not really it at all, but do feel free to call me Helen.

“I was hoping for a teeny bit of gratitude. I was the gallant rescue, after that assistant of yours blundered in and made such a pig’s ear of it.”

Tim snarls. The Distortion’s expression wavers displeased.

“Ooh, touchy, alright. Calm down, firecracker. I bought them both back breathing for you. Your Archivist would be still strapped to a chair in Stockport if it wasn’t for me, to say nothing of that woebegone assistant. Blood all over my carpets.”

Tim ignores her. The glint in her eyes suggests she’s disappointed not to have riled him up.

“What now then?”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about the Circus for a while! Dear Jonathan’s seen to that quite splendidly. Knew he had it in him. Although, I suspect, even he didn’t know he could. The Circus was always good at pushing too far.”

“And you. What about you?”

The Distortion’s smile reflects a hundred alternatives.

“Oh, I’m just waiting to see what happens next.”

-

Tim’s thoughts have been straying to Danny a lot. Naturally, all things considered, his trauma’s head reared high and made horrifically manifest.

Jon is not like Danny was, too stiff and self-conscious in his own bones. But Danny’s skin had been lit up with that same live-wire intensity that last night, smeared in shadows and exhaustion and tears that shone foreign on his cheeks. Tim had not recognised the crying, silent, shaking stranger in his room, just as he barely recognises Jon.

Watching him finally fall apart holds no victory for any of them.

Martin is not like Danny was. Taller, for one, wound-up over tight in his own clockwork of fears. He’d be about Danny’s age though. Maybe.

Danny went back to the Covent Garden Theatre, alone, and the being that had then gone by the name of Joseph Grimaldi had torn off his skin as easily as wrapping paper.

Martin went alone. He didn’t ask Tim for help, because he knew Tim would have said no, and there’s an ashy shame coating his tongue, knowing it would have been true.

It’s powerlessness that’s snarled him up in barbed wire, toothless and immobile. Tim’s felt powerless for a long time. That is not going to stop.

But his anger hasn’t protected him. Hasn’t protected Jon. Certainly hasn’t protected Martin.

Jon is not in bed when Tim goes back during visiting hours. The nurse directs him to another ward, indicating in few words that this jaunt was neither encouraged nor advised, but the patient was not one to be dissuaded.

Sounds like Jon.

The man himself has dressed erratically in the spares Tim bought. A t-shirt that is divorced from his own style, the colouring drawing him over-sallow, the jeans too short and trailing above his ankle. He’s squashed himself into a chair, his back folded like a shepherd’s crook, his scatter-shot energy spent into exhaustion. His hand in Martin’s wrapped one.

Martin’s awake. The ministrations of the Circus left his face mostly alone, clear enough for tubing to be threaded into his nostrils and down his throat but the bandaging is extensive. Tim would have thought he’d be away with the fairies on morphine by now, and rightly so, but his jaw sets imperious when he sees Tim. He doesn’t let go of Jon’s hand.

“You doing alright there, Marto?” Tim asks. There is another chair nearby that’s been left by a visitor long gone, and he drags it over. Tim chooses to keep his voice low, chooses to squash the anger that sparks up in him at the violence done to Martin’s body.

“What does it look like?” Martin replies. Not snapping, no wisp of anger there, but there’s a pained whipcord strain to his response, a forced pace to his breathing.

“I thought they’d have you on the good stuff,” Tim says after a moment.

Martin gestures with imprecise movements at a remote off to his right, a grey blocky shape with buttons, hooked up to some sort of patient-controlled analgesia machine.

“You not taken any?”

Martin, as best as he can, shakes his head.

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to, alright?”

Tim doesn’t push. The silence between the two of them is protracted, uncomfortable, but Tim can stand to learn some patience.

Martin’s eyes are watery, clearly trying to push through the pain. Jon sleeps on.

“He won’t tell me,” Martin says. “But it’s bad. I know it’s bad. Right?”

“Yes.”

Martin deserves his honesty. Tim doesn’t know how long Martin suffered on that factory floor until Jon ripped the Circus’ sawdust out with his fury. Long enough for the bandages to coat his arms and legs and back like lacquer, changed multiple times a day to make sure the skin grafts take, and the stitching holds.

Tim should have been there. Like he should have been there for Danny.

“God, Martin,” he says, and he’s surprised to find his throat has clenched tight. “It’s… I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? I went and got myself…” Martin trails off, swallows with difficulty. “I did this, it was all, all me. Fat lot of good it did.”

“You don’t know that…” Tim starts, but Martin looks at him and he seethes without raising his voice.

“What good’s come out of this then? Go on, Tim, tell me. I’m a – I’m a mess, and what the fuck do I have to show for it. What the fuck have any of us gained from this? I just fucked up, and it – I thought I was going to die. And worse, I thought they mightn’t let me, that they might take what they left as scraps a-a-and – ” Martin’s jaw clacks shut as he pushes down his distress.

“You saved Jon.”

“I didn’t though. The bloody – the bloody door monster showed up and did that simply fine without my help!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what you changed. God, Martin, this whole, this entire thing is all so, it’s fucked, right, it’s…” Tim’s voice wobbles, cracks. “But you tried to do something. You tried to help. And I’m – I’m so sorry you did it alone.”

Martin doesn’t leap to forgiveness. But he nods and Tim puts his hand on the wrappings up his arm and he doesn’t move away.

“What now?” he asks after a moment.

“I don’t know.”

Martin closes his eyes.

“I’m tired,” he confesses. “I’m just so tired of all… all this.”

“We’ll think of something,” Tim says. Finding that he means it. It’s not a promise, but it’s as good as he’s able to offer these days. “You should take some of that morphine. It’ll… it’ll help.”

“It makes me feel out of it. Like, sluggish. And everything’s far away.”

“That means it’s working, Marto,” Tim says, trying for light-hearted, but Martin’s shaking his head, and the shivering is back in his hands. A wide and trembling glaze to his expression.

“If they come back…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I’ll stay,” Tim says. Pats Martin’s arm in a way he hopes conveys reassurance.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Martin nods. Tim helps him grasp the grey remote, push down the button. It’s not long before Martin’s drifted off.

Tim sits there for a long while, thinking about the future.

[runcible-spoons]

so with caveats that you have two more seasons to go, do you think Logan loves his kids? I have my own thoughts on that and how he shows it, but always love your takes

Ooh this is such a difficult question & before I get into it, there’s an important caveat to be made. Love and/or good intent absolutely does not negate or change the impact of abuse. In no way do conclusions about Logan’s love/lack thereof change the kids’ experiences or the validity of those experiences. I've put the rest under the cut.

There are also mentions of abuse, physical and emotional (no CSA though).

So. Getting that out of the way, none of this is a “but he loved them”

I mean, first—before getting into my actual opinions—I think it’s more impactful to imagine he does. It allows for a more interesting examination of his motives, and I think contributes a lot in terms of the show’s (explicit?) examination of the dynamics of familial abuse.

That’s to say it captures the ways in which abuse is enacted generationally because of habituation to profoundly fucked up dynamics.

There’s no question that Logan wields “all of this is in your best interest” as a club to tamp down anyone’s (rightful) hurt against him. There’s no question that his focus on “strength” to the detriment of pretty much anything else causes tremendous consequences for Kendall (and Shiv. I haven’t made up my thoughts about Roman yet).

There is, however, a very specific shot that backs me up when I’m speaking about the intergenerational continuation of abuse: in 01x07 “Austerlitz,” when Logan exits the pool and you see the latticework of scars on his back. That, coupled with other allusions from the episode which I’m not remembering, makes a pretty strong case (as far as the show ever makes things explicit) to suggest that Logan experienced some pretty significant physical abuse (during his childhood).

I’m going to keep repeating it preemptively—“he didn’t know better” is not at all an acceptable excuse to make as I head into my next point.

Yeah, in my own interpretation of the show, Logan does love his children. He’s such an incredibly fucked up man, though, so that in no way creates anything approximating a “good” childhood/family environment.

Does his continued emphasis on “strength” stem from his own horrific experiences when he was (a powerless, dependent) child? That certainly explains some of his “parenting.” Might it also in a very perverse way lead him to continuously keep down his own children’s success as well? Sure. The childhood dynamics which led to his ruthless behavior (and ultimate relative safety from physical harm) don’t just end when he’s an adult—nor are they restricted to the competition of his peers.

Does the children’s hyper-priveleged upbringing—both materially and in terms of the degree of “protection” (not without cost) their father is able to provide due to his power—seem like the antithesis of a childhood which (and taking the narrative with a grain of salt) prompts the bootstraps narrative that Logan presents? well.

I’ve realized this is getting ridiculously long.

TL;DR: Ultimately, all I’m saying is that I think the intergenerational continuation of abuse—which includes an effort to provide “a different (better) experience” but also includes a denial of real harm perpetrated because “you don’t know what it’s like to really have it bad” (with an implicit “I can always make it worse”)—is perhaps a lot more interesting than an interpretation which reduces all of Logan’s flaws to “well, he must not love his children because he hurts them. He’s simply evil.”

Many more thoughts, but I think I’ll leave it at that!

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Seven

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 7 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; strong language; canon-level violence (explosions); mentions of alcohol poisoning; mention of Infinity War/Endgame deaths; perceived domestic partner abuse (no such thing actually happens!); concussions and minor injuries; mentions of arranged marriages; mentions of drug smuggling and human smuggling; lying; ANGST!

Word Count: 14,100+

A/N: So close to the finish line...

~

Spain, 2024, 5:07 pm.

    “Get the damn ice cream, Peter. I’m not holding you back.”

The kid sped down the sidewalk as fast as his feet would let him, skips in his steps and ignoring the chastising yells from Bucky. 

“You’re letting him have sugar?” Bucky whines, sluggish in his own steps. The Spanish summer sun was blaring, burning your forehead and building the same cold craving in your throat. It was just the three of you, carefree but melting, happy but annoyed with the constant proximity of each other. The villa (if you could call it that, it was more of a cottage) was listed as having three rooms - not the two you were stuck with. Bucky was at the last inch of self-control, begging you to switch with him - if only for one night - because ‘the kid fuckin’ talks in his sleep, doll! One more night and I might smother him.’

It was Bucky’s idea to take a little vacation. A year after the blip and only a few months after Peter’s world was turned upside down, a vacation seemed like the best choice. Preferably somewhere that was quiet and somewhat rural - somewhere you guys won’t be easily recognized. 

So the three of you packed and flew across the pond. In all honesty, you hadn’t even told the rest of the team where you were going besides Wanda. One day you were greeting them in the common room and preparing lunch, the other you were throwing your suitcase in one of the two vacant rooms in this little Spanish cottage. The three of you were truly off the map in terms of late notice. 

“Let the kid live. He’s having a mid-life crisis at eighteen.”

“I’ve had more mid-life crisis’s than his age combined. He’s not special.” The pointed look on your face had Bucky sighing in small defeat. “Okay, okay.”

These past two weeks in shared solitude, even if this trip was supposed to be relaxing, was beginning to melt into a tiresome routine. Well, just nights. The days were mild at best. And to make matters worse, you and Bucky had been dodging the team’s calls, messages that you left for voicemail. Bucky had clicked ‘end call’ more times than he could count and his excuse was always, ‘ the kid doesn’t want to leave, doll.’ Even annoyed with Peter, Bucky wanted only the best. 

It was only a matter of time until your phones were tracked and you were forced to come home. Everyone probably knew where you were anyway - you weren’t exactly hiding. But since you already got a good two weeks in, you figured they had taken some sympathy. 

“Think we can get him to visit a museum today or something?”

Bucky shrugged, lining up at the coffee stand near the ice cream cart. “Saw him checking out banana bread recipes last night. Seems more like a baking day.”

You could go for some banana bread. Ordering two iced coffees and making more miscellaneous small talk while waiting for Peter to order, you studied the streets of Spain. The country had suffered greatly when, cruelly, more than half their population disappeared. Left in proper ruins, no one believed it would ever recover. But then there was an election, a change in the structural government, and it just… did. They rebuilt themselves better than any country had, in your opinion. 

It was a rather calm day with minimal people out and about. It was exactly what you guys deserved after every mission - in your case, after a long month of PR recovery after that bar fight alongside Sam. 

“You bake, Barnes?”

He smiled fully, “Any chance I get.”

“You guys want anything?” Peter yelled out, bouncing lightly on his heels as he waited. You waved him off. “You sure? It’s pretty cheap for summer prices!”

After rejecting Peter’s dozen ice cream questions and offers, the three of you decided the heat was a little too much to bear, even with sunscreen. Peter spoke most of the way. Something about that banana bread.

Bucky, being the baker, helped him choose the best recipe of the four Peter had bookmarked and soon the kitchen was only half dirty with eggs and mashed bananas.

“What do you mean a cup of baking soda, kid? Use your eyes,” Bucky yelled in second hand embarrassment. “I don’t think a cup of baking soda goes in anything.”

“Read right here, dude,” Peter poked at his tablet. “A cuuuu... okay. Okay, I see what I read wrong.”

“You two better be making me some good ass banana bread today. I don’t want to throw up!” You had opted to let the two men have their fun in the kitchen. You tried to bake, but you were more of a cook than anything else.

“You could be reading out the directions.”

“I could do a lot of things,” you respond with the emphasis on “could”.

The doorbell interrupted your no-so-real argument. Peter snickered, “You could get the door.”

With a displeased grunt and a straightened middle finger to the kid, you opened the door to find two people who were definitely not invited. Clint, with this magical and massive smile on his face and Steve, with his eyebrow cocked and arms crossed.

“Oh, would you look at that. Guests! Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Now, how and why?” Bucky groaned. But his actions contradict his words as he went to give Steve a hug, covered in flour and all.

“Hey, Clint,” you mumbled, purposely ignoring the super soldier side-eyeing you. “Care to tell us what you’re doing here?

Clint returned your warm smile, “See, Cap? They’re safe. Can we go now?”

Steve rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest in a rather demanding way. “We’re here to take them home, Clint.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Eh, you might be. But I’m here to soak up some of this Spanish sun.” A low grunt sounded in the back of Clint’s throat as he spoke. He was already making his way to pick at the mashed ingredients. 

“You heard the man, pal,” Bucky slaps Steve’s shoulder, leaving him at the door as well. Awkwardly left alone, you blow a small raspberry and step aside to let Steve in. Bucky continues, “We’re here to soak up some sun. And I’m not done soakin’.”

With great protest, Steve maneuvers Bucky away from the kitchen and into the hallway beside the master bedroom. With both super soldiers out of the way, you finally go to help Peter with mixing. “Why did he come, really?”

Clint shrugs, arms deep inside your cabinets and collecting whatever desserts you had pre-packaged. “Honestly? I think he missed you guys.”

“All this drama because he misses Bucky? He could have just shown up declaring truce and had a nice little vacation,” you mumbled, glaring at Steve from behind. 

“Think he felt like he needed an excuse to even show up. But they really are asking for you guys back home. Threatened to arrest your ass.”

“Lucky me.”

You could make out snippets of their tiny argument up ahead. 

‘You could have called.’

‘You haven’t been answering the phone, Buck.’

‘I’ve been relaxing.’

A heavy sigh. 

‘I just thought we told each other everything.’

‘Believe it or not, Steve… but I’ve got more friends now. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m not trying to ignore you, I - I just needed to help another friend out this time.’

Peter, with great care, washes his hands and makes sure there aren't any random mashes of banana on his clothing before he side-steps you and Clint to interrupt the very ‘private’ conversation between the super soldiers. “Hey, Mr. Steve- Cap, hey.”

Steve immediately lets his hard gaze falter. “Hey, kid. You doin’ good?”

Peter nods in response. 

“He’s doing great! Much needed vacation that still isn’t over.”

“Buck.”

Inserting yourself may not have been the best option. “Give it up, Rogers. We’re on vacation. And until the kid says he’s ready to go home, we go home.”

Peter fumbles, “Oh, please don’t put me on the spot like that. I’m not good with confrontation.”

Bucky quickly answers before Steve can, “It’s not confrontation, Peter. We love being out here and if it’s helping your mental health, we’re not going to take that away from you.”

Steve blinks and his expression looks like one of hurt. “You think I wanna do that? The literal president has been asking for your location. You’re not allowed to leave the country.”

You shrug, “Well, no one told me that.”

“Buck, you were just granted immunity three months ago. And you go and drop off the face of the earth?”

“I’m literally in Spain.”

Steve blinks again. He really can’t believe he’s got to deal with two people with similar personalities. “Your point?”

“On Earth…?”

Clint decides to make his presence known. He has even inserted the poured batter into the glass tray for you guys. “Why don’t we just stay with ‘em, Cap? God knows you need a vacation, too.”

“We have two rooms. You’d be bunking on the floor,” you say, pointing to random areas on the floor.

Clint waves his hand in the air, “Not the worst place I’ve slept in.”

“I’m being hounded day and night to bring you three home.” Steve looks about ready to burst into tears of frustration.

“Turn off your phone?”

Steve whips his head and stomps to close the few feet of distance between the two of you. “You really think it’s that easy? You really think I wasn’t worried when my two best friends just disappeared one night and didn’t tell me?”

Two.

Best. 

Friends. 

Before you could even comment, Bucky puts on the dramatics.  “We ran away together, Stevie. We meant to tell you.”

Steve takes a moment, just staring at the ceiling and piecing together his thoughts. “Joke all you want, Buck. I’m bringing you home.”

“Ste-”

“No!” He’s stomping back to the front door now. “I’ve had enough! I can’t stand not knowing where you guys are all day when bad things keep happening in this world. Just… just come home.”

All is quiet besides the quiet munching of Clint and his rogue cookie. Steve’s face did this thing when he was at war with himself, anxiety crawling up his arms or panic weighing his empty stomach down. His face drained color and that perfect renaissance oil lost its blush, blended paint that turned a murky gray. A masterpiece lost in storage.

“I can take the couch,” you whisper, arms erupting in goosebumps. “You guys can stay the night and we’ll go home tomorrow, okay? Or somewhere pre-approved, I guess.”

Bucky didn’t argue. Neither did Peter. 

Steve's imaginary painter adds the softest pink back to Steve’s cheeks as you compile a mess of blankets and pillows for him.

Present Day, 2025, 7:15 am

     There’s a warmth near you as you begin to lazily shuffle against the sheets, heavy on your chest but comfortable all in all. 

There are no worries, no sudden bursts of Avenger business, no fights needing to be fought. Simply Steve warm against you with sunlight draping over his bare and freckled shoulders. 

The serum enhanced for the sole purpose of strength and survival. And sure, it healed the body quicker than the average human body could naturally, but the one thing it couldn’t do was strip personality. 

Steve had freckles splattered along his broad shoulders and down to in between his shoulder blades, light in color and all similar in size. Something a lot of people hated about themselves and tried to cover up while others tried to mimic. The serum was supposed to heal damaged skin, sunburnt areas, birthmarks, and even moles - at least, that’s what the official 1943 report had claimed. 

But over the years, Steve had continued to age and grow into his new body. And while he couldn’t get dangerously sick anymore, anything unknown could still occur. No one had the same serum as Steve and last Tony had heard, Peggy had spilled the last remnants of Steve’s original DNA (blood they took before the procedure) in the Hudson. Bucky seemed to be experiencing the same natural changes as well. 

It had been proven that neither Steve nor Bucky could carry or transmit diseases, experience abnormal cell production, nor could they develop a lifelong ailment without severe reason. 

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Clint called one morning while deep in a routine mission (somewhere in Africa, you really don’t remember) to relay the news that, ‘you guys aren’t gonna fucking believe this - yeah Rogers, I’m telling them the hilarious news right now - Steve’s appendix just up and exploded last night - hey! He just stole - hold on. Give me back my hearing aid, you abelist fuck!’. 

Steve had stretch marks on his back from the procedure, his elbow still hurt from time to time after he had snapped it a year ago, and the white scar above his right hip reminded him that even super soldiers are not exempt from the wonders of the appendix. 

His breathing was slow and his eyelids flickered. Seemed he was enjoying his first deep sleep in a while. You craned your neck to try and read the cable box across the room, slightly making out a seven in the front before you gave up. You were due for your annual eye appointment, anyway. 

Steve did have perfect eyesight though, so damn him.

You shrugged the sheets from your arms. He was on his stomach, cheek planted on your chest and right foot dangling off the side of the bed. His left arm was draped over your middle and his right was tucked inside a pillowcase. His hair draped over his forehead and some of it was still tucked behind his ears. 

Careful to not wake him, you gently traced the ridge of his nose with your index finger, resting it on the tip that always turned bright pink regardless of mood. Once at the end, you went back up to trace it again. 

“Beak,” you whispered more to yourself, and you bit your lip to suppress the overwhelming urge to giggle. 

Steve was here, next to and near you, and he was so warm. 

You could have stayed in bed for hours, sleeping and cuddling and fucking, and you would bet your left kidney that Steve wanted that too. It was impossible to question it, it had to be, because Steve was too genuine. You had met hundreds of men in your life: some the literal devil, some cowards, some reserved, and rarely, some genuine at heart. Steve fit some category that didn’t even exist. 

You wanted to love him and hate him. You wanted to make love and fuck him. You wanted to kiss him and annoy him. He checked a box that didn’t exist but that you would just have to reserve for him. The annoying little shit who could lift Thor’s hammer. 

The door almost ripped off its hinges by the brute force of someone’s leg. You didn’t even fully register being crushed by Steve until his elbow stabbed you right in the gut. 

“Rogers!” you groaned in pain and half trying to reach for your pistol on the bedside table. 

There was a collective gasp of surprise (and maybe terror) from the people that just broke down your door. After yesterday’s unplanned run-in with Ramirez, no doubt this was called-for.

“Oh, hell…” Sam grumbled, lowering his gun the second he realized two of his friends were sharing one bed. “Lemme guess, the other bed’s mattress was too firm but this one’s just right.”

Bucky stood behind him, a knowing smirk plastered on his smug face. He looked between you and Steve, ignoring the way Scott was practically pulling his shoulder down in pure fits of laughter. Didn’t take much for Scott to tip himself over and almost drag Bucky down with him. 

“Couldn’t you knock?” Steve nearly yelled, body still trying to shield yours even though you were fully dressed. You were struggling to push him away in pure embarrassment, but he seemed intent with this form of protection. 

“You weren’t answering your phone! We changed our check-in times to seven instead of eight, remember?”

Steve, ever the gentleman, brought the sheets up higher for you and finally lifted himself out of bed. 

And Bucky, ever the gentleman who has been spending way too much time with Clint, nodded his head toward you. “You two fuck?”

Mouth dropping in humiliation, you pulled the sheets up over your head and screamed into the temporary cover. Steve sputtered over whatever explanation he was thinking of pulling out of his ass. 

“You two fucked,” Bucky smugly confirmed. 

Steve pulled on the nearest shirt and went to kick Scott, who was ‘criss-cross apple-sauced’ on the floor and laughing way too loudly. “Is it really any of your business?”

“Man, that’s an answer!” Sam was about to fall into the same fit as Scott. 

Annoyed, and fueled by that annoyance, you ripped the sheets off and marched for the bathroom. “You really want to know, you nosy little fucks? We did fuck and he made me come three times. Ask him how, I’m sure he’ll teach you a thing or two, no matter how embarrassed he may seem right now.”

You left him alone. You literally just exposed him and you left him alone with the wolves. 

All was quiet until Sam blew a small raspberry. “Three times?”

     Bucky didn’t need to speak to show he was about to tease the hell out of you. He simply sipped his coffee until he emptied it, and then refilled it. You couldn’t even finish a single mug yet because you were waiting to break the tension. 

Looking around the hotel bar because he still valued your privacy, Bucky made sure to keep his voice low. “Three times?”

Half wanting to slap the smirk off his face and the other half wanting to announce Steve’s naughty accomplishment, you settled for pouring more coffee into your mug. 

“Don’t you dare hold what I said against me, I literally had just woken up.”

“Mm, yeah. I remember how you literally moaned Thor’s name when you were startled awake from a nap in the living room.”

“Bucky!” you yelled, turning your shoulders inwards when you received a few odd looks from other early risers. Well, some were early risers. The person closest to the door was an agent, as was the other eating breakfast at the bar. “You promised you would never mention that again!”

He shook his head with amusement, “I can’t believe you swore me to secrecy when Loki basically told everyone.”

“He-!” Choking on your own spit, you slid lower into your booth. “That mischievous, conniving, son of a bitch.”

“In all honesty, I think that was his way of flirting with you.”

“Telling everyone I had a wet dream about his brother?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first.”

You smirked, “Oh, trust me. I know.”

Bucky squinted, guilty in his spoken words. “All I’m saying is, it’s nice that you didn’t just write Steve off with us, as if nothing happened.”

It made your heart swell that even in a moment with you, Bucky would still always protect Steve. 

“I would never. We actually talked last night and he really apologized.”

“Really?” His eyes were hopeful. 

“He did. And as cliche as it sounds, one thing led to another.”

You realized your earlier words were contradictory when Bucky sighed sadly, “This better not have been a one time thing. I’ll strangle you both.”

You scoffed and finally took a piece of that blueberry muffin on your plate. “Screw you, Barnes. It’s Steve we’re talking about. I’d give him the world if I could.”

That made Bucky blush. “God, I’m stupidly happy for him. I always said he’d need to find a dame who had as big of a mouth as he does.”

Rolling your eyes, you offered him some of that muffin. He gladly broke off a piece. “Don’t go marrying us off just yet.”

“Doll, he almost imploded when we discovered you slept together. Teasing him about proposing might just kill him.”

You laughed at that. Although Steve had admitted he regretted the time you lost, there wasn’t any chance he would push you any further. He was probably comfortable with taking things slow, no matter the history. You had that in common. 

“Seems we’re all just gonna have to make sure we don’t cause his demise.”

Smiling as he chewed, Bucky played with your feet under the table. Safe moments like these always occurred before a mission, no matter how simple or heavy they were. And like people love to say, you never fought with each other before. Just in case. 

Going to bed angry was another thing entirely. That, the whole team was proficient in. 

“You ready for tonight?”

Yesterday had definitely turned you against the very concept of family reunions, what with the small ache between your shoulders. You were angry with Seda, with Ernesto, disappointed with Ramirez, and neutral toward your sister. 

God, your sister. This would be the first time since you left Mexico for school and SHIELD that you would be seeing her, as well as your other siblings. Jackeline was perhaps the only sibling you had some real memories with. Everyone else was already deep in the business or far away from the chaos. The team only knew of two other siblings who rsvp’d. The others: radio silence. 

“Part of me just wants a normal family wedding. I’m kinda hoping we can just end it all tonight.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bucky chuckled, finishing off your muffin for you. “You’ll get some closure soon enough.”

There was no such thing as closure. Just less of a constant sting. 

“Bucky,” you spoke seriously now. “My father made Steve sign something yesterday.”

“He told us at the debrief yesterday.”

“When did you have a debrief?”

Bucky scooted in his booth, quickly explaining. “Uh well, it wasn’t so much of a debrief as it was a simple overview. Just a heads up.”

You tilted your head, somewhat unconvinced. “Uh-huh… but we could void it, right? He had a fucking notary there and everything.”

“We can declare it void, yeah Y/N,” he grabbed your hand over the table. “He won’t get tangled in this.”

With a heavy sigh, you gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. “I’m really glad you guys are gonna help us.”

He returned your smile. “Anything for family.”

Family. 

After all these years of self-hatred and despising your own blood, you blinded yourself of the simple truth that you already had a real family. Whether you were accepted after Sokovia, or after you helped Steve escape with Bucky, or after those long five years, you were accepted. And you accepted them right back. 

    The briefing goes as expected. Didn’t seem like anyone was going to live down the now obvious fact that you and Steve had slept together after years of unnoticed pining. You simply took the teasing in stride, better than Steve even, who stuffed his face full of chips in embarrassment.

The plan was simple but ever-evolving. The three of them will hang back: Bucky at the hotel, Scott and Sam at the nearby base with Torres. The base was fifteen minutes from the estate, hidden behind those same pine trees but the perfect cover - it was a nearby diner. Steve will still take the shield, FRIDAY was installed on your personal phones, and any weapons you attached to your person were specifically made to deter metal detectors. Once in, it was mingle, mingle, mingle.

There were going to be a thousand questions to answer: What in the world is Captain America doing here? Is he here to cause trouble? Are you two seriously dating? So, Captain America being one of us means holding Thor’s hammer was a myth, aye?

Then you would move on to the more important guests. Jackeline’s greeting would be more of a reunion. But flying under and over the radar had to walk the same line - you needed to mix in with the crowd and make sure they see you participating, but then escape for a little while to continue the mission.

Once in, the task was to electronically and physically retrieve everything Scott didn’t have time to yesterday, plus the new information Ernesto got for today and tomorrow. His latest emails, list of contacts, checks, birth certificates, video evidence.

“Do we all know our duties?”

You wanted to wrap up Steve’s commanding voice and keep it a special secret, a secret that was yours and the team’s to share.

“We got it, Cap. For the tenth time this week - you two okay?”

Sam was rewarded with a slanted smile. “Everytime you ask me that, I’ll lie.”

He nods, “At least you admit it. You’re not alone in this.”

“For years,” you continued, “It’s been that way. I guess I’m both ready for it to end and not. I want them behind bars. I don’t want the repercussions.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky agrees. “At least part of the fight will be over.”

Beside you, Steve clenches his jaw. “We’re always fighting.”

Bucky grins at him, “Yeah.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he leans forward to squeeze Steve’s thigh. “At least it’s not with each other anymore.”

     They weren’t lying when they said vibranium was lightweight. Felt different from nano-tech and was an obvious change from your regular body suit. You felt protected and stylish. Good, because even though you weren’t obligated to impress those vultures, there were still a few cousins and extended family members you wanted compliments from. And?

The black turtleneck was warmer than you expected and didn’t strangle you. You were a bundle of velvet bliss right now. The cuffs were a golden brown, completely made from vibranium. Modeling in the mirror, you whispered a few ‘pew-pew’s as you blocked pretend bullets. C’mon, golden bracelets? You were basically Wonder Woman. 

The tights were your own, thin and black and you could still see there were faint bruises on your knees from training. Once all that was situated, you pulled on the long skirt and tucked in the bottom of your shirt, glad the way the high-waisted design sucked everything in. The skirt was the same golden brown as the cuffs, shorter in the front and wavy as it draped down the back, barely reaching your ankles. You tied the skirt’s belt in a tight bow and pulled on the black boots Shuri had also sent you. The heel was thick and short, and the boot was pretty tight around the top of your ankle. 

Time was ticking on that well-deserved goody basket you were meaning to send to the royal siblings. 

Hoop earrings, three rings dressing your left hand, a simple golden necklace - now you need to do your hair and make-up. 

Steve was just patiently waiting for his turn in the bathroom, bless his heart. 

     “Scott said the files are in his personal belongings. We suspect he’s planning to smuggle over fifty people tomorrow. Their records should be hidden away in those belongings, too.” 

Sam always kept a leveled head in dire situations like these. He was rational and helpful, always waited until the job was done and everyone was safe before he had a drink or a cry. It was safest, perhaps the most fair thing the Avengers could do for the public after destroying half the cities they fought in. The media didn’t need to know about the late-night fights, alcohol poisoning, or frequent therapy sessions. Your coping methods were all different - Steve has no doubt Sam will immediately pack an overnight bag and Bucky to visit his sister and nephews once the wedding concluded. 

Steve? Well, Steve was surprisingly calm, all things considered. 

“You get any hits yet? Anything from Ramirez that could help us find those people sooner?”

Sam sighs sadly, shaking his head. “It’s looking like we’re heading into a full-on fight.”

That’s not what Steve wanted to hear. A ‘full-on’ fight almost always had accidents, misfires, innocent casualties, and a few cuts and scrapes to add to his own personal collection. 

“Sam,” Steve puts down the files in his hand and shuts off his monitor to signal he’s done researching for the night. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“You know,” Sam smiles at him, “I’m gettin’ real tired hearin’ you say that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. Sam gently exhales - Steve can feel it. 

“You two really are the same.” Sam points at Steve and to the bathroom door. “Always apologizing for shit you can’t control.”

Steve looks down to his feet, a blush in his pale cheeks. After failing to clip his cufflinks on his own, he holds his arms out to Sam who happily clips them for him. 

“Is it real?”

Steve pauses. He doesn’t really need to think about it because he knows. He’s known for a while even if he was on autopilot. The pause only serves to help him catch his breath from the happy prickle that crawls up his spine. “As real as second chances go.”

Sam laughs and claps his shoulder, “I get it. We seem to get a hell of a lotta those.”

      Now that the mission was truly kicking into gear, fucking full speed ahead, Steve had no other choice but to pull shreds of Captain America from that metaphorical attic of his. Took everything in him to revert back, never fully, and each time would be different from the last. Sometimes it was mentally draining being responsible for a whole team and creating the plans, other times he regretfully felt like a colonizer, an intruder who followed orders from the top and was forced to execute them. This time around, he was stepping into uncharted territory, but still familiar, and he had a million roles to mime. 

“Steeeve.”

His smile was instant and he gravitated to your voice. “Hmm?”

“So, I have an idea for a hairstyle,” you reply, throwing open the bathroom door with a brush in one hand and the other holding the top layers of your hair up. “I got enough hair for it.”

“Tell me about it. It gets in the way of everything.”

“Haha.” You rolled your eyes, still trying to shovel more hair higher. “I curled it, so all I gotta do is tug this upper half up into a ponytail while the rest stays down. But can you help? My shoulders still hurt and I haven’t taken my advil yet.”

Steve shuffles back into the room to grab you two pills before he replaces his hands with yours. “So, just lift it up?”

You hum confirmation, watching Steve in the mirror as he pulled your thick curls higher, snapped the hair tie between his teeth, and tied it all. He pulled the strands outward so the high curls still fell around your face. The hairstyle would have been easier with extensions (for a much fuller look) but if you had to throw your body around these next two days, you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of having them pulled off. 

“Thank you,” you blush. These moments were so intimate, so sweet, just you and Steve. “You need any help?”

Steve looks down at himself. He had already tied his own tie. He could style his own hair and comb his beard. “I think I’m good. Forgot to pack cologne, though.”

“I’ve got some perfume in my suitcase. There should be one in there that isn’t too flowery.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Not really a problem, doll.”

Pulling on his suit jacket and reaching for your suitcase to set it on the bed, he miscalculated the balance he was so obviously lacking. Instead of toppling head first himself, he fumbles your suitcase and spills its contents on your bed. He stills for a second, looking to the closed bathroom door to see if you popped your head through to ask what the hell that sound was. But it remained closed, and Steve silently groaned because of his clumsiness. 

He tries his best to roll the clothing items back in, cursing whenever he would accidentally squeeze a perfume bottle you had hidden in there. He counted three. The one he picks smells like roses.

Amongst the ruins he finds your passport, multiple IDs, and two pairs of sunglasses. He chuckles to himself and thinks, we’ve been here for four days and she hasn’t worn these once.

A torn piece of paper stood out from the pile, folded neatly in its own envelope but still damaged. 

     CLINT

Curious, Steve opens the envelope, wholeheartedly expecting to find the written contents from the archer himself, but pauses when he reads the simple sentence, in your handwriting. 

‘After careful deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I want you to have all my video games.’

If Steve didn’t know any better, and judging by the multiple other letters peeking through the torn tape from the corner of your suitcase, it sounded like a goodbye letter.

“What’s taking so long?”

Startled, Steve shoves the letter under the pile of clothes. “Uh, my clumsy ass spilled your clothes everywhere so I’m being good and fixing everything.”

“...annoying.”

Still, you stayed inside the bathroom.

He glanced back just to make sure. And he knew he shouldn’t be snooping, the guilt was already eating away at him, but he now noticed the lump under the torn tape and another envelope poking through. 

They were all signed for different people. Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Rhodey - 

The devil on his shoulder drowned the cries of the angel. 

Opening his, he prays for his quick reading skills to aid him before you realized what he was doing.       

Steve, 

     Believe when I say that I thought I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…

I don’t really know why I’m writing these letters besides the thrill of morbidity for my untimely death or because I’m an amateur writer on the side. I never know what to say to you, anyway. Whether it’s in person or on paper. I’ve got a hundred drawn-up speeches in my head I almost say to you. But they don’t come out when I want them to and it seems a bit much to write out the words to several imaginary crumpled pieces of paper. 

This will have to do. 

Steve, I know for a fact, deep in whatever soul I have left, that you are a good man. 

When the world fell apart, I held on to you. I don’t know why. Natasha bugged me about it, sent me those signature smirks of hers whenever we did anything remotely weird. She believed something was going on between us and I would get so angry with her because it was like she saw something I couldn’t. And I wanted to see it. Wrap it up for myself and live in the softness.

You slept by my side when I would ask, you let me look through your private sketchbook to help ease my mind, and you would jump at every chance to shield me from danger. Even when you know I can take care of myself. I don't know how many times I have to remind you. 

I don’t understand why you shut me out after we brought our friends back. And at the time, it hurt like hell. I literally wanted to kill you and then myself. It made no sense, it still doesn’t. I won’t lie and say it still surprises me or that it no longer hurts. ‘Cause I’m numb to it now and the pain is more of a dull ache. 

But I guess you had your reasons, no matter how hurtful, how ridiculous, no matter how stupid. 

Fuck, why didn’t you get some of that life Tony had always wanted for you? The question eats me alive. Maybe you did move on, maybe you would miss us too much, I truly don’t know. When you confessed to wanting some form of that life when we rescued Wanda, it just confused me more.

Then my father basically declared war and you cut me out. I can’t help but think you stayed behind to help me finish this, what with that righteous streak of yours, but if it is the case, then I am so sorry. 

You deserve to live, Steve. 

Guess what I really want to close with is this: find that life you always wanted. Buy a boat, or a cabin in the secluded woods and become a lumberjack, travel, open your own art museum - hell, erase all traces of your identity and sell painted landscapes for a living. 

In any form you find it, just try. You know I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be. 

There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you. 

With as much love in me, 

    The swirl of your name leaves him disoriented, and slightly paralyzed. Steve licks the envelope closed.    

     Steve puts the very existence and contents of your letter to the back of his mind for the time being. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, no time to dissect it word for word. He’ll focus on it later. He still doesn’t know what reaction he should be experiencing. The letter was unexpected, yes, but it’s the matter of you writing a goodbye letter - as if you weren’t going to make it out of here alive. And that about saws Steve in two. 

Steve thinks the elevator comes too fast and wonders what he could do to stop time. The mics on your neck generate enough noise for you to hear the static on the other end. No one is currently online, and Steve cherishes the little moments he’s getting before having to transition into ‘Captain America’ mode. 

There wasn’t much time today to truly bask in the afterglow. The moment the elevator opens Steve literally drags you inside and captures your lips in a rather chaste kiss. It surprises you momentarily but you’re responding, and it’s fluid and familiar. The kiss is brief, but it feels as if your years mold into this single act, and Steve’s smiling wider than he has today when the first thing you say as you part is that maybe you chose the wrong shade of lipstick because it looks too damn dark on his lips.

The elevator reaches the ground floor and he looks over at you one last time in the privacy you’re afforded. He’s got that good ache in his chest again and it’s both calming and a little bittersweet, because staring at you is like staring at the sun - it hurts to look at for a long time but oh, so tempting. 

   The lawn was separated into two halves with only one fully decorated and the other still under a tarp, hidden because it was mid-construction and to not spoil the surprise. Over to the side, just left of the large lake, there was an extra tarp the workers were manning in case the clouds in the sky decided to cry. 

Jackeline had chosen violet as her main color scheme, with golden hues stitched alongside. The flowers, soft lights, marble floor, and desserts were all violet; the curtains and tarps, plates and glasses, flowers on the wall, and Jackeline’s rehearsal dress were all gold. Ernesto must have spent over a million dollars in the decorations alone. 

Everyone donned their best designers and since only family was in attendance today, the little amount of people were easily outdone one right after the other. In total, there were fifteen guests, and that included you and Steve: Ernesto, Seda, the groom’s father, Jackeline’s mother, two of your half-brothers, three aunts (sister’s of Ernesto), two cousins, the maid of honor, and Marcus White. 

They have already fawned over Steve, some with a major guard up as expected, but as Ernesto explains the specifics, everyone becomes more pleased than weary. ‘It was just too good to be true that the Avengers were all good’, someone announces. Steve grips your hand just a little tighter. 

The mere absence of Ramirez was enough of an answer: he really was going to be eliminated.

Across from your private corner, cheers and claps sound as the happy couple finally emerges. Even your father leaves mid-conversation to go greet her. 

She’s a fifties masterpiece. Her dark hair cascades in uneven but gentle layers, framing her face and she’s both glossy and matte. Her skin is darker and her eyebrows are fuller, widow’ peak and strong jaw, thin neck and perfectly rounded shoulders. She has a painted blush on her high cheekbones, dark eyeshadow and a faint cat eye, and the reddest, fullest lips that are already spitting wit as she greets her more serious guests. Her voice is high but steady and she’s so obviously the center of attention, she’s the literal bride, but you bet she could take over the room even if she wasn’t. Her fiancé, surprisingly enough, trails behind her as if he too is in a trance, greeting the same guests and attempting to match her enthusiasm. She’s making herself known, and she’s succeeding.

It isn’t until she locks her sight on you that Steve finally mumbles a quiet ‘woah’ underneath a shaky breath and you can’t blame him, dear god you can’t, because seeing her for the first time in six years is eating away at you. She’s nineteen, young and sweet, and still trapped in the world you were planning to destroy.   

Her first reaction is to run into your arms and hold you tightly, the force swinging you from side to side. Her giggles are contagious and you find yourself reacting similarly, grip tightening as she begins to ramble about how much she missed you and how proud she is that you have saved the world ten times over. The statement is overwhelming, but you find yourself nodding along in place of anything verbal.

Steve is patient as he witnesses this family reunion, standing at your side with respect and a tint of scarlet staining his cheeks. Finally, Jackeline turns to greet him and for a scary second, Steve sees Peggy.

“No way!” She keeps her voice low. “I could have sworn my bit-... uh, my bunch of tias were lying about you really being here.”

Steve shakes the fifties image from his head. The resemblance, even if Jackeline has more slanted eyes and a larger forehead, is uncanny. “Thank you so much for inviting us. The ride up was a bitch but we made the most of it.”

Jackeline stutters over her own laugh. “Oh.” She looks to you with a wide grin. “Oh, he’s a keeper.”

“Thought so myself,” you grin back. “You should hear him swear during a football game.”

“All men turn into animals when their teams don’t live up to expectations.”

Her accent is thicker than yours. Living in New York for over 10 years definitely helped smooth over some dialect and create your own voice. But Jackeline’s, considering she had never lived outside of Mexico, was thick and silky and resembled a place you no longer called home.

She pulls the man behind her forward, effectively interrupting and ending the conversation he was having with one of your cousins. “This is Julian. Julian, this is my one and only sister and her boyfriend!”

Julian, bless his heart, holds out a slightly shaking hand for you to shake. You do so, and try to convey calmness through it. When you watch his glance fall to Steve and feel his hand start to shake yours more rapidly, you can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“It’s an honor!” Julian finally says, voice deep and wracked with some nerves. He shakes Steve’s hand when he gets the chance. “Captain.”

“Please,” Jackeline rolls her eyes. “He’s just like us! You should be swooning over my sister, who is probably going to be the one to kill you if you ever hurt me.”

Julian blinks. His eyes go from Steve to you, contemplating his next move without wanting to seem rude. He nods in your direction. “I don’t doubt you would. Excuse me if I came off as rude. I’m just starstruck by this one here, is all.”

His accent matches Jackeline’s.

Steve waves his hand through the air. “You are not the first tonight, son.”

Sometimes you forget that Steve is an old man. Biologically, he’s in his mid-thirties. Ever changing and growing old as normal, but his soul is old. From a different time and out of it. The mere nickname he just gave Julian, no doubt because of his young age, leaves you averting your eyes and turning away to smile up at one of the many golden chandeliers.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight. The party may seem small right now, but trust me, half of Mexico will be dancing with us tomorrow night.” Jackeline bounces in place, hand intertwining with Julian’s, and she leans in to speak more clearly with you. “Meet me later? We have so much to catch up on.”

Agreeing, you watch the happy couple leave to converse with the few other guests.

Steve turns toward you, eyes squinted in amusement. “Is she really cheating on him with a man of the cloth?”

You can’t help the involuntary snort that leaves your nose. “The photos were watermarked, right? Time stamped? Maybe they’re old.”

Steve huffs a laugh and grabs two champagne glasses as the tray flies by him. “She’s got a way about her. Reminds me of a dame from this book I read a while back.”

Sipping your drink, you ponder. “What book?”

“The one where the dude gets shot at the end.”

“Oh, you mean every book from the 20th century?”

Steve laughs, “That twenties one!”

Mouth dropping, you push at his chest and turn to walk away. “You did not just compare her to Daisy from The Great Gatsby!”

Steve follows. “That’s the one! Honest! She has this way about her!”

    It’s not long after a few dances and photographs that you’re all seated for the actual dinner. There are three long tables, two parallel to each other and the main one perpendicular. You don’t know if it’s a power move or whatever, but your name cards are placed on one of the parallel tables. But it doesn’t bother you much since you have a front view of Seda and your father. 

Dinner is a six-course meal. Not that you assumed any different - Ernesto really went all out for his youngest child (that you know of). Your mics are picking up conversations left and right so you’re actually able to enjoy the meal. Salad, soup, a weird looking appetizer that’s actually quite delicious, the main course of either chicken/fish/or steak, and two desserts. All throughout, Steve is actually having the time of his life being fed so well. 

“Answer me this,” Steve leans in to whisper in your ear. “Are those hearts or paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling?”

You smiled against the ridge of your champagne glass, “You mean those clay flowers?”

“Is that what they are?” He pauses for a long second, squinting.

“Are your eyes going bad?” 

“Eyes don’t go bad.”

Your mouth falls open. “Your eyes are going bad!”

“Again,” Steve holds up a finger. “My eyes are just fine, not bad.”

Something else to add to that list you had made in the morning.

“This is fucking fantastic.”

Steve, still trying to casually squint, huffs. “Annoying...”

You bump his shoulder and lean in to whisper quietly. “Turns you on.”

Steve just blushes.

    It’s like he forgets where he is for a second, what with the great food and surprisingly good conversation with one of your brothers beside him. Steve’s already built a much stronger rapport with the thirty-something year old man than you have. There’s a stab of guilt for a second, a need to duck and drown in shame, when you realize you can’t even remember his name.

Ernesto stands to announce toasts. His is brief and not all that fatherly, but it’s the longest you’ve heard him string some nice words together. Seda follows, brief as well, and includes a childhood anecdote about her. Jackeline’s mother is a young woman, somewhere between forty and fifty, and her toast is only a sentence long - ‘Solo quiero que estas contenta, mi amor.’ For the first time tonight, Bucky voices his thoughts over the mic with a quiet and sad sounding hum.

Ernesto lifts himself from his chair, swatting away his men who go to help him. He has the microphone again and he’s walking toward you, face neutral. You know better than to refuse in front of this big of a crowd. Steve squeezes your hand before you stand and he remains beaming up at you from his seat. 

You’ve seen it in the movies - raise the glass, say some words, end it nicely. It’s what you do. But it feels surreal, almost unnerving when you don’t recognize the faces looking back at you. 

     “Here’s to you,” you lift your champagne glass, looking around at the happy yet solemn faces at the small table. 

“You deserve all the happiness available to you. You are so lucky to have each other,” you finish the toast and drink your whole glass. There is no applause, just sad smiles in response. You’re not asking for much, you never had.

Tony and Pepper share a quick kiss, thanking everyone around the table quickly as the two cakes are being cut. Their wedding was limited, with only a few people in attendance. Whoever was left. Tony’s cabin could obviously accommodate more people, but he had only requested the gathering of those he could stomach to see. But when that turned out to only be Pepper and Happy, he was forced to open the doors to more. 

So, you accepted your chocolate cake from Rhodey as he handed it to you. Shared some quick chit-chat with Steve and Natasha; greeted Thor as he made his first appearance in a while, hair now longer and baggy clothes hanging from his body, a tortured smile on his aging face; and sat through Happy’s own speech, enjoying his refreshing and joyful attitude. 

But now you stood in front of the kitchen sink, staring at the hidden picture frame behind the mugs - a reminder of what was really missing from this special day. 

You studied Peter’s awkward smile and demeanor, his expression youthful and frozen in time. He became foggy, silver clouds blotting his cheeks and his hair went white, and soon the sink sounded with a tiny ‘clunk!’ as you wept silently. 

You felt a hand slide into your own, squeezing with care and understanding. You looked up to see Steve, his eyes watching your face. He gave you one more gentle squeeze, the same tortured smile as Thor’s on his beautiful face, and walked to his room to retire for the night. 

     Glass raised in the air, you swallow in hopes of not choking over any word because of your nerves. 

“Here’s to you,” you start, already deciding this was going to be like pulling a band-aid. “May this world treat you kind, and that you are kind to each other, and that it’s all that matters.”

Steve forgets to drink. He can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting to cry.

     Everyone watches as Steve leads you onto the dance floor which is intimidating with its glittering violet light and marble that resembles polished glass. If these were the decorations for the rehearsal dinner, Steve can’t even begin to bet on how tomorrow’s going to look. 

Steve holds you close, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other framing your spine. It’s like a tight hug. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

You step on his foot once again. “Shut up, Steve. Tell me your real thoughts.”

“Who, me?”

“Steve.”

“You suck at dancing.”

“There it is.”

     It isn’t hard to sneak away once everyone piles onto the dance floor. Steve shares a few dances with your aunts before excusing himself to use the bathroom. 

The mission itself goes rather smoothly. Infiltrating and collecting information was childsplay. Amateur. You’ve done it a thousand times and your father isn’t exactly a tech wizard. Neither is Seda. 

You find the electronic bank records Scott couldn’t yesterday, as well as a detailed spreadsheet (more like a hitlist) dating ten years back. In the same file, this actually only slightly encrypted (slightly), are the names of high-level players involved. It’s color-coded, some names familiar because of their involvement with Hydra, and it’s only a matter of seconds before you notice that red means eliminated, black means still at large, and blue means ally. 

There’s a lump in your throat as you scroll through and find Steve’s name, thankfully in blue. It’s expected, so you simply move on, until you find yours. And it’s in black. 

It should terrify you, have you running for the hills and tucking your tail between your legs but you’re won’t because Steve’s name is blue. 

That’s all that matters. 

There’s still no concrete information about the shipment, nothing online or on a loose post-it note. It’s non-existent and that’s suspicious and you don’t know why you don’t voice that to Steve. He’s listening at the door and responding to Sam’s questions. You and Scott are the hackers of the group after all. 

You scan through drawers and cabinets, snapping photos of things you can’t take just yet and filing the papers you can. Papers detailing contracts and miscellaneous connections: lawyers, doctors, politicians, police. Once that’s done, you shrink the evidence to the size of a fingernail with the help of Scott’s tech and hide it in your bra. 

Surprisingly enough, the two of you are able to slip out of the office and the first couple living rooms undetected. Until Jackeline herself appears, pulling down her dress as she exits the bathroom. Steve, stunned by the presence of anyone, pulls you toward his chest with unfocused strength. You hiss loudly and naturally go to cup your injured elbow. It takes a moment for Steve to realize what he’s done and who he’s done it to. 

Jackeline nearly stumbles over her heels out of pure clumsiness but her mouth parts as she notices you and the harsh sound you make. If she truly saw or heard anything, she’s keeping it to herself it seems. 

“Ernesto wanted to see me before we called it a night,” Steve says, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He doesn’t outright say he’s sorry; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. So he braves a smile, sends you a look, and excuses himself. 

No conversation ever comes naturally - or, rather they take at least minimal effort from either party. You say the first thing you can think of and that’s to congratulate her again. 

Your rambling sort of sounds like the toast you gave earlier, but Jackeline either doesn’t want to embarrass you or simply doesn’t notice. She waits for the pause in your voice before she finally speaks.

“Before I start, don’t hate me for this.”

“That’s not a good way to start a sente-” Your face is smacked to the side absurdly hard and you can feel the sting at the base of your neck. You look back at your sister with wide eyes.

“You couldn’t leave the world dead? He was finally dead!”

Baffled, you rub at your sore cheek. “Why am I the one getting the most blame for that? I followed a fucking raccoon around and I didn’t even snap my fingers!”

“Sorry,” she blinks, eyebrows scrunching as she thinks of the next thing to say. “Sorry, I just… it was that easy to kill him and then he just… wasn’t.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you were also dead.”

“I was.”

“And we brought back trillions.”

“I know.”

Never once did you wonder what your siblings might have thought. More than half of them were separated from this life, while a few remained and conquered their allowed sectors. Ernesto had never discussed which of his children would take over his seat. But when he was dusted and Seda assumed power, it was clear not one sibling wanted anything to do with it. Or they were just too scared to outright disobey Seda and his tyranny.

Jackeline stands tall, shoulders straight and chin held high. She didn’t seem to worry about the repercussions of her actions - she knows who you are and what you are capable of. The smack seemed deliberate but restrained.

“So?” It’s the only word you can muster up.

“Please don’t judge me.” Her confidence falters and her eyebrows push down even further. “I know you know.”

“You gotta spell it out because I know a lot of things.”

Sighing deeply, she grabs the hand you’re using to rub at your cheek. She grips it tightly as she speaks. “I love him. But he’s impossible to love now and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, Jackeline…”

You could have contacted her. You were on social media - you could have followed her, maybe messaged her annually - hell, called her once in a while to simply check in. The ticket you got was always a temporary one: go to school and find a way to make the trade routes easier to travel. School finished, you found Fury, and you created an alternate identity and background plan to trick your family into doing just what they ordered. And during all that time, Jackeline was barely in her pre-teens, probably scared and alone and missing her only sister. This was just you throwing that smack out of proportion but there was truth in it all. Wasn’t there?

“Julian’s okay. I agreed to this arranged marriage. I’m sure I can grow to love him,” she shrugs, biting her lip as it begins to quiver.

Her eyes are no longer happy - perhaps that was the wrong word to use after she had just confided in you about the reality of her upcoming union. But they definitely seem more dull in comparison to the joyfulness she presented earlier tonight.

“Jackeline, you don’t have to-”

“No, I was gone those five years. He had to move on.” You drop your shoulders and lean forward to give her a hug. No matter how badly you wanted to wrap your hands around Ernesto’s neck, they had more use tenderly wrapped around your sister. 

Relishing the feeling for only a moment longer, Jackeline is ignited once again. “Besides, I should be telling you that! I saw the way that… that fascist pulled you. If he’s hurting you, I’ll kill him.”

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head. “Oh.” 

She looks at you as if you’re going to admit abuse and confide in her like she did you. “No, it’s okay. Steve’s perfect, he’s… wonderful.”

Jackeline shakes her head rapidly, “Don’t you lie to me. I know what I saw.”

“I’m not lying. But you gotta trust me. I’ll explain later-”

“Explain what?”

Seda breaks the conversation and you forget to curse inwardly. Instead, a mumbled ‘fuck’ is heard. It only serves to fuel the flame. Jackeline flashes a rehearsed smile, and she truly is your sister because for a sad moment she looks exactly like you.

“Explain why she never returned my calls to be my maid of honor! I swear, this one is always so busy she forgets I exist!”

“She is,” Seda agrees, grinning like he already knows what the original conversation was about. “Always busy.” 

Jackeline keeps the same smile and is about to continue fanning the flames when Seda interrupts again. “Jackie, your father wanted me to speak with your sister alone for a moment. It has to do with tomorrow’s shipment.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t keep her for too long, okay? Tomorrow’s a late start but we all need our beauty sleep.” Jackeline leaves and fails to look over her shoulder to double check on you.

Seda steps closer, arms swinging casually like he’s pondering the possibilities of what he could do without Steve present. But instead of focusing solely on him, you listen to the soft sound of Bucky’s voice through the mic as he tells you that he’s listening in and he’s here.

“What did she say to you?”

“Is it really any of your business?”

He snaps immediately, gripping your cheeks in one hand so you can’t move your head. “When will you learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut around me?”

“You asked.” Smacking his hand away would have been frowned upon before, but not anymore. Free reign if need be. “Besides, when will you learn that that will never happen?”

“You can’t believe anything she tells you. Ernesto’s only two daughters are mistakes, both threats to his reign. Never submissive, always asking questions-”

You grunt almost comically, “Men and their irrational fears of women… What did I ever do to you?”

He pauses and you notice how his angry eyes always seem to water from his frustration. “You brought him back.”

“I also brought back trillions.”

“You know,” his face does something unpleasant. “Before Jackeline was dusted, she had been seeing that priest.”

“How could you possibly know-”

“He was so devastated by her loss. Found God, became a changed man.”

“Seda, what are you playing at?”

“She came back.” He lifts one finger. “He couldn’t resist.” He raises another. “Didn’t take long for Ernesto to find out.” The third one is the last, and he mimics a small explosion as he concludes. “But don’t worry, we took care of him.”

You never once believed the Devil was this angry, red demon with horns atop his head and a sharp tail, voice booming as he ruled the underworld with the weapons of pain and suffering. He didn’t possess or haunt random places. If anything, the Devil himself was simply a metaphor, a representation of the evil in a living world. It only made people comfortable to create an image, no matter how ridiculous.

Once you even thought the Devil was Hades, and he wasn’t all that bad when it truly came down to the root of all problems. He oversaw the underworld but he didn’t take life, he didn’t cause the pain, he simply watched and ruled. That maybe Hades was real considering Thor was, and he was just chilling in the underworld bored out of his mind.

But the evil the Devil represented was a constant in this world already, in your life from start to finish, and Seda’s eyes held something unspeakable. Dark brown eyes almost black, left cheek twitching with the urge to smile grotesquely, the tense nature of his broad shoulders. He was no massive man, a few inches taller than you, but he was a giant in a world in which Hades lacked and the Devil persisted.

“But Julian-”

Seda scoffs, “Julian was her rebound. Got mixed up in the business, with Ernesto  - but I don’t doubt he loves Jackeline.”

You’re this close to breaking the man’s fingers. He doesn’t stop counting his supposed triumphs. “When were the pictures taken?”

“Don’t do that,” he laughs as he finally steps away from you. “Ask your real question.”

Your smile was involuntary. So was Seda’s. It was the one thing you had in common: smiling at things that weren’t funny. “Did you threaten him? Torture him? Kill him yet?”

“... Jackeline will never know.”

Your mouth parts slowly like you’re still digesting his words. “You unimaginable bastard.”

If you had to bet, you would have placed all your money on Ernesto being the giant to fear. He had hurt you in countless ways, used you and discarded what he didn’t like, put you in the line of fire for his own gain. He had taken pleasure in knowing you hurt, in knowing what you had lost and suffered. He mocked your sacrifice time and time again. And there was a sentence you had never uttered out loud for fear of what you might do, or what anyone hearing you might do, that Ernesto had said one chilly November night only a year after the world returned. It was a thought so suppressed you almost always forgot it had been real. ‘A shame the Widow did what she did - what an unbelievable asset wasted over something pointless.’

No one outside your circle could possibly understand. They didn’t have to - but to dismiss the main reason he was retaking his tainted throne... insanity. 

But something in Seda’s voice moved even the most dormant areas in your soul. The giant was a man with nothing and everything to lose but with the power to choose which. Staring at him for too long prompted an uncomfortable sting across your waterline like his glare burned. Such a normal looking man with short dark hair and an aging face. He stared at you with a set look, one that told you he knew something you didn’t. Like he controlled giants even bigger than him. He wasn’t Hades, who restrained himself and hid in the shadows of a world he was forced to rule - he was the Devil’s metaphor, with red strains licking his tan skin and eyes sharp enough to puncture.

With a small tilt of his head and a strangled grin, he finally turns to leave. “Have a safe drive home.”

     After saying a quick goodbye to Jackeline and securing the estate, you hurried to get to your car and leave. Ernesto had just sent you a quick nod of the head and reminded Steve he needed to see him again before the wedding started. All your leftover energy literally went into pulling open the passenger door. 

Out of instinct now, you wait until the car is past the gates and a good mile from the hidden entrance before speaking freely.

“We get everything?”

The night is dark and you can barely see the outline of the trees. The sky is covered with gray clouds and there are no lampposts to provide light. It’s really just your headlights. “I think so. I think.”

Steve can sense the hesitancy in your answer. “What’s wrong?”

You shake with an exaggerated shiver, “Seda was being creepy… just more than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Steve was probably communicating and online with Sam during his conversation with Ernesto and completely missed the one you had with Seda.

“Fuckin’ didn’t think it could get weirder, but Jackeline mentioned how this was basically an arranged marriage and then Seda,” you stop suddenly. The uneasiness was creeping back. 

“An arranged marriage? Fuck, what else is this mission going to throw at us?”

‘Captain?’

Steve’s hands accidentally swerve the steering wheel as response to the small fright. “... Was that your phone or mine?”

You fumbled through your mini purse for your phone. “Me. Hey? Friday?”

‘The one and only. I hope that didn’t frighten you because I really need your attention right about now.’

Steve chuckles, eyes straight ahead as he drives. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

‘My readings are picking up something strange. The vehicle, even if I’m not able to virtually connect, seems to be stalling.’ Torres did curse you two before you left for renting a car made before 2013.

“What do you mean? It’s working just fine.” 

You set your phone down on the dash to start looking around the interior of the car.

‘The pedal, yes Captain. But I’m afraid my readings are focused on the brakes.’

You bite your tongue and scrunch up your nose. What else could possibly happen tonight? “That’s always fun to hear, great. Greaaaat.”

“Friday, what are you picking up?” Steve’s voice is more stern and even if he’s not doing it on purpose, he’s trying to ignore your coping mechanism of joking during dire situations.

‘It seems that when they took the vehicle for parking, they attached something to the brake lines. Sort of like a trigger sensor. Do not slow down.’

“We’re stuck? We can’t stop?”

‘Everytime the Captain de-accelerates, the sensor heats up. That’s what my readings are.’

“Fuck,” you unclipped your seatbelt and turned your body toward Steve. “Fuck!”

“Friday, what do we do?” The least Steve could do is be the level-headed one here.

‘Exactly what you’re thinking, Captain. The shield’s in the trunk.’

“We can’t exactly get to it!” You don’t mean to scream at Friday. You’re sure she’s used to adrenaline induced attacks guided toward her and never about her.

‘The burners were produced by Stark Industries for our very own spy unit. They are equipped with a taser, flashlight, and laser.’

Jumping so your feet were planted firmly on the passenger seat, you make sure everything is in place: the stolen files, your gun, your phone, and earpiece. “Keep your foot on that pedal, Rogers. I don’t feel like blowing up tonight.”

He releases a shaky breath, hands turning pale from the grip he has on the steering wheel. “You and me both.”

“Friday?” Your voice is only slightly timid, but you manage to move your body out from the front seats and to the back.

‘The laser, Agent Y/LN. Cut through the seats.’

Nodding along to her instructions, you search for the burner under your skirt and unstrap it from the holster. Pulling its ancient antenna outward, Friday verbally guides you through the very simple instruction. The laser blasts out unexpectedly at first making you squeal, which in turn causes Friday (a literal AI) to chuckle. You’re thankful the antenna was facing the back seats already.

“Doing good back there?”

You respond with a low grunt as you carefully carve out the largest rectangle you can create. “You better have shoved the thing close. Any stop signs up ahead?”

Steve’s getting worried now, but instead of putting you more on edge, he hides it pretty well. “Thank god this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even give his response acknowledgement as you finally pull the leather, metal, and weird cushion filling away and spot the shield. “I got it, got it, got it.”

‘My sensors suggest you’ll have a good five seconds to escape the vehicle once the Captain releases the pedal.’

You make sure your hair is in the tightest ponytail known to man and that your skirt is bunched up in your free arm. You strap the shield onto the other. “Steve, you gonna be alright?”

His eyes are still focused on the road, but he braves a look in the mirror back at you. His voice is stern but not demanding. “I know you hate the damn shield but bend your legs, jump sideways, and tuck your head.”

“Yeah,” you nod along. Damn straight you’ll put your hate aside for one second if it’s here to save your life. “You better jump on time, you understand me?”

“Sam,” Steve keeps the speed steady and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding from the sound of you kicking open the back door. “Sam, Widow. Widow.”

Before you jump, the asphalt a never ending, rapid glare of absolute darkness, you leave your phone on the seat in case Steve still needs her. “Friday, send Sam and Torres our location. They’re the only ones who can fly in undetected. Tell them what you told us.”

‘Will do, Agent Y/LN.’

“Be careful.”

You smirk at him, “Don’t be a hero and crash this one into the ice, yeah?”

You don’t wait for his reaction and instead take the plunge. The shield makes a hard impact with the asphalt down below, screeching for what seems like an eternity before slowing down. You did as instructed: knees tucked into your chest as far as you were able, head doing the same. By the time the ride finally ends and you’ve gone partially deaf, you can make out the sound of a loud explosion a close distance away. The heat from the sudden burst of wind nips at your face. You’ve also gone partially blind. 

Your poor boots are definitely ruined and there’s a faint tell of a bruised ankle in the works. The arm attached to the shield will also need to be popped back into place - it shouldn’t feel this loose. Luckily, your head and torso were completely unscathed. 

Lifting yourself up the best you could without straining anything too much, you noticed the car still in flames but driven off the road. 

“He jumped, he jumped, he jumped,” you repeat, limping as quickly as you could, shield still attached to your arm. The closer you get the clearer everything becomes, regardless of the smoke. “Steve.”

You squint through the orange light and the dark of night. The fire wasn’t all that loud in its crackles and it doesn’t take you long to realize while tapping your ears that you lost your earpiece. 

“Steve,” you try again, adrenaline still pumping but panic seeping in. As if on cue, you can make out his body laying far away from the car relatively unharmed. “Ah, shit.” You drop down on your knees and wince involuntarily. Slapping his cheeks doesn’t wake him up, neither does gently shaking him. You don’t want to do anything to hurt him more. 

The sound of gravel popping kicks you back into spy mode. Hide. This was a hit, of course it was, and they were coming to see their job done. 

“You so owe me,” you groan as you unstrap the shield to throw it into the woods, the faint tell of it hitting a tree enough to make you work faster. You hook your arms underneath Steve’s armpits and bend your knees, breathing in deeply and out a few times before pulling him with all your strength. There’s pain shooting up your arm but you try to ignore it. Small whimpers escape you as you pull harder and finally make it a good distance from the wreckage. You sit Steve, still unconscious, behind one of those massive pine trees and sit next to him after retrieving the shield. 

It’s only two black SUV’s that come to check their hard work. They’re bending down and using their own fire extinguishers, snapping their own photos, the works. It isn’t until Seda walks over to admire the wreckage that you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming. 

You’re seated in front of Steve now with the shield in front of you when a sudden movement to your left startles you. Before you scream, however, a hand covers your mouth. 

“Shh, shh.” Sam. Your eyes fill with tears. 

“I’ve got him. Torres is coming for you, alright? I’m the only one who can carry him out.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you. You’re silently helping Sam strap Steve against his chest as Seda and his men are now investigating the woods. You can hear them close, cursing and yelling about finding you. 

“Go a little further. Down there,” Sam points in front of you. “Torres is parked and waiting. Go.”

“Don’t drop him.” Sam stifles his laugh. 

You follow his directions, limping as quickly as you can, and finally find Torres, your second knight in shining armor of the night. 

    After an all clear from the medical team, Steve is left alone in your hotel room to rest. He still hasn’t woken up but Helen isn’t worried since his scans show no major damage. Small talk with the rest of the team fills in the time but it’s like you’re not really there, merely a participant on a loop. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you’re covered in scratches and smoky ash and you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to kill something. 

Your father wanted you dead. And showing up to the wedding was just going to anger him more but it had to be done. But you were tired, so fucking tired, tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep or rest.

You let your hair down but stay in your tattered clothing, making yourself useful as best you can. You answer questions, you review footage, you draft up some reports. Bucky tries to sit you down at one point, but he backs off when you simply shake your head and give him that famous broken smile. 

You’re sitting at your desk trying to save some of your phone’s cloud through the connected email. Sam has already ordered you a new phone. On the computer to your left, you’re scanning and uploading the files you stole tonight. On the right, your little butterfly is transcribing conversations from yesterday. 

The transcription is finished before the uploads. It prints. 

SEDA: ‘Ernesto needs to know how many more women we can get from Jonathon. I thought you said your Italian contact was up to date?’

UNKNOWN: ‘He is. But the women are coming from here instead. Got a load of ten just now.’

SEDA: ‘The shipment goes out during the wedding. Not before, not after. We can’t fuck this up for Ernesto and we cannot have the stars and stripes finding out.’

UNKNOWN: ‘Ernesto plans to mention it to him tomorrow.’

SEDA: ‘Then make sure he keeps quiet about it.’

The bitter taste in your mouth returns and you have to run to the nearest bathroom.

     Steve wakes just an hour after, disoriented but able to discern who he is. “What happened?”

You’re standing at the foot of his bed, having just got there a few minutes before, practically on the verge of tears. “... Did you know?”

There it was. Any hope of truly coming to terms with this new world order or his role in it, any hope of feeling like he did before he succumbed to the American war propaganda and became a science experiment, crumbling before him. The heavy weight that were your shoulders, crumbling like shaky mountains. His own, tense and straining and urging him to get out of bed. 

He’s been in the trenches when the smell of gas and blood clogged his nostrils and made him dizzy. He’s experienced loss a thousand times over, just heinous instances of despair where he swore he was torn in two. He’s lost on his own accord and pretended like the world was still on its axis. 

And he knew his time was up. He just thought he’d have more than a day to enjoy it.  “I was going to tell you.”

It’s like the air is punched out of you. “You knew?”

“Please, listen, please,” he scrambles out of bed.

“What the fuck, Rogers?”

“Ramirez told us yesterday. I swear I only found out yesterday. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You’re stepping away from him. He’s almost on his hands and knees and you’re stepping away from him. “Before?”

Steve makes a pained noise. “Yes, but please-”

“No! You kept this to yourself and you had the fucking audacity to share the same bed as me?”

“Please, let me explain-” He tries to reach out but you side-step him. He reacts like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t touch me, Steve!”

“Please, just let me explain. We all know - Bucky, Sam, Torres, we all know.”

Your face does something he’s never seen it do. “Fuck?”

He’s talking faster now, words just spilling on the floor and into the air and he doesn’t know what else to do. “We’re tracking it. We have a plan set. We were supposed to tell you tomorrow before the wedding.” He stops to take in a breath. “I was going to tell you.”

“You went behind my back.”

“If I would have told you, you would have done something horrible tonight! We need your father alive to find those people!”

Eyes wide in shock and anguish, you step further away from him. Each step was the equivalent of a dagger plunging deep into Steve’s heart, twisting and burning its way to the depths of his vulnerability. He wanted to succumb to the pain - after all, he deserved it.

“That would have been my choice to make!”

Now he pushed forward, shoulders hunched and palms turned upward as if he was pleading for a crumb of understanding. “I was gonna kill him.”

He drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist. You remained perfectly still, a tree stump with no cover. “I was gonna shoot him between the eyes when I first found out. But if I had done that, then we would never know the location of those people.”

His weight was pulling you down and you felt his wet cheek against your stomach. “I deserved to know.”

His grip tightened, “You did. But if you would have known-”

“I would have known. Period.”

He had to know how much he weighed. But Steve leaned his body onto yours harder, afraid you would vanish and god forbid turn to dust. It didn’t really register in his mind that, even though he was holding you in place, you weren’t exactly trying to escape his hold either. 

He had let you go once and he’ll be goddamned if he let you go again. 

“It ate me alive. I hated doing this-”

You pushed against his shoulders and sensed his reluctance to let go. Instead, you look down at him and tense your jaw. “Steve, you don’t hate me, do you?”

His face dropped and his grip loosened. You should just slap him across the face, Steve thinks, because how in the world were you thinking that at this moment? Never did he think you would find a way to twist this - to somehow blame yourself for his mistake. Took a long time to see it, but you were just as righteous as he was. It would get you both killed someday. 

“Why do you think that? What in the world would make you think that after all this time? After everything?”

He lets you push him away so he could stand but he makes sure to keep his hands on you. A tangible promise that you are real. 

“You agreed to help me catch a drug lord. You didn’t sign up for this extra mess.”

“We may not always know what we’re up against,” Steve began, sniffing and wiping at his wet face. God, he felt like such a mess. “But I could never fucking hate you. Don’t even think that.”

“You sure?” your voice cracks, hands slightly shaking from the need to touch him too. “Captain America didn’t sign up for this.”

He shakes his head almost violently, “No, no. Don’t go there. I am not him, I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“Steve-”

“No! I’ve hated the title for a while now. I’m done. I’ve hated my reflection for years and years.” The tiny whine in the middle of your throat gurgled and your hands moved instantly to cup his cheeks.  “I represent no one but myself. I’m tired of others thinking I’m the same man from ten years ago, or the same man from the forties, or the same man from last week just because they’re enamored by that star on my chest.”

He tilts his head to lean into your touch, “I am helping you because it’s the honorable thing to do. I signed up for this work, I intend to finish it. Not Captain America, but me - Steve, me.”

“You’re still making me feel like it’s something you have to do.”

“I admit that I was never overly fond of the idea of being wrapped up in this,” Steve admits, hands now cupping yours over his cheeks. “But toppling this empire will keep you safe.”

As heartwarming as that sounded, you broke the fantasy. “The minute we take the giants out, they’ll elect someone new.”

“But we take the giants out. The giants that hurt you.”

He’s right, like always. 

“Steve,” you say quietly, bringing his face closer to kiss away his tears. You’re struggling to keep the tippy-toes and your ankle is screaming for a break, but you persist. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“No more secrets.”

“None, I swear, I promise.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you make sure his eyes are locked on yours before you speak. “I’m not walking away this time. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Steve’s mouth releases a big burst of air like he was holding it in, and he wraps you in a hug that promises the same.

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

A/N: Wooooo that took forever lol xxMoni

[chrysalizzm]

Do you have fic recs or head canons? please ramble for paragraphs im bored and looking for something to read.

oh boy do i have some fic recs for you (and everyone who sees this), my friend! this one is quite long because there are a lot of fics i like and this isn’t all of them, so if you’d like more, you can check out my bookmarks page ^^

The Run and Go by Numanum 

“That’s not fair,” Bad protests. Dream raises an eyebrow at him and jerks his tied hands in emphasis, clearly saying that none of this is fair.

“Look, you keep running! Who runs if they’re not guilty?” Bad challenges, staring him down with obvious distrust from the generous distance of exactly five feet. It’s fair, as much as Dream hates to admit it; it’s not like he’s been the most honest hostage in the past, with all of his escaping and running and framing himself for his own murder, apparently.

“Only the good die young, and only the guilty run,” Technoblade chimes in, holding his own potato and sitting in the snow like it’s not cold at all.

A hot flash of irritation burns through him.

“Someone being chased?” he counters sarcastically, jerking his tied wrists up again to wave them in front of the group. Sapnap laughs so hard that he almost chokes on his potato, but it dies off when Dream gives him an icy stare.

Or: Dream is having a hard time, and the hunter just want to adopt him like a stray puppy that bites you at every opportunity.

multi-chapter, ongoing.

a manhunt with plot-style fic! exquisitely written, visceral in the emotions it evokes. it’s the kind of fic that makes me feel all shaky with anticipation, the kind that i have a physical reaction to; you can’t put it down.

pain. all-consuming pain. this one feels bad, man

and as he fell (you walked away) by Teahound

Once upon a time, there were three hunters.

They were good at what they did. If you wanted something-- or better yet, someone-- found, discovered, or destroyed, they were the people you asked. They didn’t have much to their name, besides a formidable reputation, but they were a team, and that was enough for them.

Once upon a time, there was a king in the forest.

He wore a mask, but it didn’t matter. That deep in the forest, in a hidden fortress, buried behind leaves and monsters and broken stone, no one could see his face anyway. He had been there a very long time, and he was alone.

Being a king can be a very lonely thing. So one day, the king left the fortress.

A Minecraft manhunt AU, with a fantasy twist. Dream is a cryptid, and Hunters are idiots.

multi-chapter (11), complete.

tea’s fic!! a manhunt-with-plot fic, featuring a forest spirit dream and circumstantial hunters and friendships that feel both intensely real and desperately melancholy because they can’t last.

or can they?

The Real World by Cinammonzoa and Fire_Fly464

"Ten, paces fire!"

Time stopped.

Tommy’s entire body went numb. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but his body was determined to keep him silent. His vision went dark, and he could no longer feel his headphones over his ears. The mouse in his hand. The slight breeze of his ceiling fan. For a few seconds, he couldn’t feel anything.

His senses came back to him all at once. The first thing Tommy noticed was the weight in his right hand -- a bow. His nostrils stung with the lingering scent of gunpowder. In front of him was a masked figure. Their right arm was bent, their elbow by their face. In their left hand was a bow, aiming directly at--

~~~

Aka Dream and Tommy get transported into the SMP world and have no idea what the fuck is happening

multi-chapter (23), complete

you’ve probably seen this one if you haunt the video blogging rpf/minecraft tags of ao3 often! an irl!dream and tommy replace their smp counterparts type of beat, very upbeat in dynamic and fun to keep pace with, great read.

staying alive (though the city is dead) by Alice_Not_In_Wonderland

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Schlatt smirks, his words lilting, almost song-like. His eyes seem to glow brighter. "Tell me, Dream, when did you realize that you could talk and talk and talk and no one would ever believe you?"

---

or: if dream's damned to be a villain in every story he's in, then he's going to show them exactly how much of one he can be

one-shot, complete.

the gratuitous greek mythology references are truly everything and this fic is such a good dissection of dream and schlatt’s motivations and how their goals intersect, and dream’s likening to cassandra really hits different 

Green & Gold by HognoseSnake

George’s legs ached.

His lungs felt tight and too small.

His breath was loud in his ears.

His pack bounced uncomfortably on his shoulders.

George, homeless and adrift, is an outlaw of the Mad King's reign. He'd spent the last two months being hunted across the wilderness at the fringe of society by a ruthless killer in a smiling mask and bright green coat. This, he understood.

What he didn't understand is why such a ruthless killer kept letting him go.

multi-chapter (8), complete. sequel ongoing.

a breathtaking pseudo-manhunt-with-plot fic, with george and dream running from a kingdom that wants them dead for perceived transgressions. this shit hurted, and the sequel hurts even worse ;-; snake please i beg

We’re Only Young series by ImperialKatwala

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

collection of both one-shots and ongoing multi-chapter fics.

((bangs on table)) please read this series it is dream and techno friendship fics that alternate between lighthearted and heartwrenchingly comforting and imperialkatwala’s characterisation of them and their respective groups of family and friends is so frickin’ good i read this series when i’m not having a good day and it never fails to make me crack a smile

kept promises and old ruins and names carved into stone by verecundiam

"Would you... would you want to stay here?" Bad wrings his hands, looking away. "Like, like actually stay? I know it's not, ah, not exactly comfortable, or all that homey, but I don't want you two to get hurt out there on your own, and I just... I think maybe you could stay? If you want?"

"That sounds nice," Sapnap says, because it does.

(Or: How four kids managed to build a family, against all odds.)

one-shot, complete.

muffinteers found family that makes me want to go to the smp writers and beg it to be made canon. unbelievably soft yet excellent at parsing out the younger counterparts of the four and creating backgrounds that feasibly form them into the people they grow up to be.

in the age of icons by BananasofThorns

“Yeah, keep digging,” Tommy crows.

The pickaxe hesitates on the downswing. The air shifts; Dream’s aura bursts into visibility, brilliant green and jagged. Ozone hums on Techno’s tongue and Bad stutters in the middle of his sentence. Up on the wall, silhouetted by the sun, Dream stands frozen and furious.

L'manberg messes with something it shouldn't. Techno watches the repercussions and tries not to laugh.

one-shot, complete.

i love deity aus (figures, i wrote one myself akjdfh), and this one hits. there’s something exquisitely delicate about how dream and the repercussions his godhood both on himself and on the people who are exposed to him in that moment of unbridled rage.

that's how we keep going (we make the best of things) by lieyuu

[ i can’t decide if this is heaven or hell. the walls keep closing in and we’re running out of space, but you’re pretty cute ]

“So, do you want to build a flower shop, a cottage, or a coffee shop?” Puffy asks, smiling like just Niki’s presence is enough to light up her world.

Niki looks at her, thinks, I want to bend nature to my will and weave tapestries in your name, says, “I think I might like the flower shop best.”

one-shot, complete.

a niki/puffy fic that crushed me in its hands in just six hundred words.  the delicate love and wonder and beauty of this fic killed me softly and i welcomed it. it’s girls in love rendered by lieyuu’s masterful hand, what more could you want

i need it to be known that as i was typing up my thoughts midnight love by girl in red started playing from my playlist if that’s not a shining endorsement i don’t know what is

did i ruin the moment? by itisjosh

Ranboo drags himself through the snow, burn wounds going up and down his body. His suit is crumpled, half of it discarded as he crawls along the ground. His eyes are firmly pressed shut, and he refuses to open them, just in case he sees him, Dream, again. Ranboo sobs as the snow melts on his skin, the water scalding him as it trickles down his arms and chest.

one-shot, complete.

it’s character death, i do need to put it out there because it felt like i was punched in the stomach at the end even though i knew. josh knows exactly how to drag his readers kicking and screaming into angst hell, as always - a ranboo is rescued by phil fic wherein ranboo ends up convincing himself that the only reason for his presence in the nearly-empty anarchist commune is because phil sees him as a placeholder for his sons ;-; pain

Frame The Halves, And Call Them Brothers by MusicallyActive

"Let's go!" Quackity roared. "Let's fucking go!"

The anvil dropped, and Techno reached for his totem of undying. This was going to hurt like a bitch.

Phil screamed something, and instantly a crushing force struck Technoblade's skull. It rattled him to the core, doused his vision in red, and then all he knew was black.

He gasped awake moments later to the sound of his communicator pinging softly at his bedside table, and when Technoblade opened his eyes, New L'manburg was nowhere in sight.

one-shot, complete.

a techno timeloop fic that shows off the unintentional cruelty of the children who run l’manberg and techno’s own inability to allow the people he tries so hard not to love to come to harm. techno’s rendered in painstaking detail; this one was cathartic in the best way.

on i go (move to move) by Aenqa

If you ask someone whether they’ve ever experienced real, severe physical pain, you’ll learn a lot from their response.

Techno knows what it means to be in pain. He’s accepted it as a necessary consequence of keeping his family safe. But when the pain he's experiencing starts to become too much to bear alone, it takes his family to show him what it might mean to feel better.

one-shot, complete.

chronic pain fic featuring sbi!! it’s really good - aenqa wrote chronic pain well, and incorporated respawn mechanics into it well, and the dynamic between sbi is impeccable.

Yellow and Blue and- by nic_takes_Ls (nic_L)

It’s another gorgeous day in New L’Manberg. Tubbo’s stilted streets of deep toned spruce and honey-touched oaks are warm under his feet from the sun, and a sign and a small banner proclaim the country’s name in front of his face. Wilbur is so happy to let the ‘L’ roll of his tongue as he says it, ‘Manberg’ was harsh and too guttural, but the two extra syllables make it something that could fit on a melody, a four-note beat he could set the pace of his unbeating heart to.

The citizens of New L’Manberg track him with cautious eyes at first, until Tubbo changes his eyes to slightly sad ones, listening along to Wilbur’s rambles, warming up to the truly soot-grey sight of his face and sunshine yellow of his ever-present sweater. The rest of the population soon follow, laughing at Wilbur’s strange innocence and telling him what he’s done with only a little bit of spite in a pitying mask and fixing their mouths in a line when he suddenly forgets what he’s doing or stares into space or laughs at nothing.

But all the people who get sad when Wilbur starts laughing after shock-still silence are dumb.

Because Wilbur’s not laughing at nothing.

one-shot, complete.

a ghostbur fic from quite early on! it includes references to wilbur and schlatt’s older videos/smp experiences and has a super interesting take on the nature of wilbur’s amnesia i enjoyed this fic a lot ^^

east of eden series by subwaywalls

Philza protects his home.

(An angel with a singing blade of fire guards the gates to paradise.)

two one-shots, one ongoing multi-chapter fic.

READ IT READ IT READ IT. the eoe series is exquisite in both content and presentation, centering around sbi and the powers they all respectively have but also bringing in people like grian and dream, and subwaywalls is a master of packaging her words ever so delicately to create an experience that is ethereal.

[angsty-omi]

PART 2 OF UNLOCKED EMOTIONS

part 1

ushijima wakatoshi x fem!reader

lowercase intended

warnings: anxiety, cheating, cursing, some semi nsfw scenes and most importantly, pure angst.

it started out simple. toshi would make a plan to go somewhere, and rin would tag a long. she is his girlfriend after all. but you soon started to notice that she was always there. even when your families would have dinner with each other. at some point, you couldn’t take it.

there was this one night where you didn’t even wanna go downstairs because you knew they were there. sitting in your dining chairs, using your silverware, probably making out in the bathroom. you slammed your head on the bed trying to get that image out of your head. stop it y/n. you made an excuse that you were ill, which technically you were lovesick.

it wasn’t surprising that soon you and toshi faded as friends. you needed space even then, your feelings didn’t change at all. instead it was even passionate than before. before, you never felt a sense of urgency in telling him. but now you wanted him more than ever. you needed him. seeing him walking down the halls with her. hand in hand, walking down the hallway and past your locker. your chest was tight. she would stick her tongue out at you, and ushijima never noticed. “what a child,” you thought to yourself. but you couldn’t say anything, she was just trying to gaslight you so you could scream at her and ushijima would have to choose between the two of you.

continuous weeks of her microagressions at you, you learned to let that not bother you. rin noticed and had to up the ante.

during 5th period, you started feeling very anxious out of nowhere. you could feel a pair of eyes laser into you. you had asked permission to go to the restroom and the teacher gave you the hall pass. you immediately rushed to the sink scrubbing your face. repeatedly rinsing.

you looked up to your side and saw her. rin. this startled you. “do you need something?” you asked nicely, secretly about to have a meltdown.

to be quite frank, your meltdowns were rough. it was a period of time where you felt no remorse for anything. no one really knew about this condition, except for your family. it’s not worth mentioning because they’ll think you’re a psychopath and it doesn’t happen quite frequently. it’s only when you’re a ticking bomb, under lots of pressure. like.. like.. right now?

you could feel the symptoms coming and so was rin, she started to come closer to your face.

“y/n, you think i’m an idiot don’t you? you don’t think i see the way you look at him?.” now she was only a few inches away, “god you’re pathetic, you can’t even deny my accusations. you’re in love with someone who’s taken, you fucking whore. you. cant. have. him... it’s truly sad y/n, you even had a head start. all that time was wasted, and all i had to do was to just be in his presence for a day and he fell for me.” she giggled. her high pitched giggle was ringing in your ears.

“stop,” you thought, “please just make it stop.” you’d do anything. meltdown y/n was just not someone to be reckoned with. it’s not a threat, it’s the truth. not five seconds later, your clenched fist met with her eurocentric face. then you were on top of her, not even thinking just doing. just your fists continuously smashing her petite porcelain face. until there was a whole crowd, the teachers finally were aware of the situation.

soon there was an administrator holding you back. angry tears flooding your eyes. you wanted more revenge. hearing her whimpers, you smiled. this. this made you happy. then you were shut back down when you heard someone calming her down. you looked up and saw ushijima. your eyes met. his with much fury, and yours with much sorrow. “how could you do this, y/n? from now on, just leave us alone. don’t even acknowledge me. don’t look our way. don’t even breathe the same air as us.” he threatened with such a serious tone.

the whole reason you hated your meltdowns were not just the no remorse thing, but how after it is finished, the guilt hit you like a truck. leaving you in a serious depressive state. and you were suspended for two weeks. great.

you were trapped in your bedroom. after you got home from that day, your parents immediately grounded you, and took your phone. no contact with the outside world. no contact with ushijima. not like it mattered anyway. sometimes you would think to yourself if he ever thought about you like that. that if he imagined about you the same way you imagined about him. or if he ever wished that it was you next to him down the hallways. being alone with your thoughts was not fun. with no phone to distract you, or school, it was terrifying. every waking moment was lonesome.

it had only been five miserable days.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed a breather, and needed it now. you begged your mom to let you go on a walk, and she gave you the thumbs up. you decided to go to the nearest park.

there were very fond memories of you and ushijima together. the latest one was when they won nationals last year, and you guys celebrated on the swings, with a shot of grocery store rated tequila. very disgusting.

the park was empty. most people would find a playground depressing with no kids. but that’s how you liked it. quiet, but it’s purpose and physical attributes brought joy to people’s face. you decided to take a seat on the swings. dragging your legs back and forth, back and forth. dazed and honestly so mentally tired. you slowly started to doze off.

footsteps. you heard footsteps.

still with your eyes closed, “if i die then i die, i’m too lazy to budge,” you thought to yourself. the footsteps were getting louder. and then you hear a bunch of chains moving next to you.

“killer chains?” you thought. this bitch

no. you were wrong. those were swing chains. someone had sat next to you. still keeping your eyes shut, hoping that the stranger would just leave.

until you heard his voice,

“y/n, why did you do that to rin? how could you hurt her when you know how important she is to me? she told me that you liked me. for years. why didn’t you tell me?”

“why was he talking to me? breathing the same air as me? and also, would that have made a difference if i told you?” you thought.

“i’d be lying if i said i never had feelings for you, but, god y/n i’m dating someone now. i am a faithful man. and you know, if you weren’t just so prideful, and just told me.. maybe things would’ve been different,” he continues, still thinking that you’re sleeping.

your mom called everyone looking for you. obviously you didn’t have your phone and you still weren’t back from your supposed walk. ushijimas parents forced him to go look for you. he, previously, being your best friend knew the top three spots you’d be at.

“but they’re not,” your voice whispered with an icy tone. it was like bitter in your mouth.

his eyes widened like he just saw a ghost. he didn’t want to hear your answer. he wasn’t ready. but it was too late, it was already rolling. “and what do you mean if i wasn’t so prideful? i didn’t tell you because i was looking out for your FUTURE. volleyball is your main priority and you said you wanted to be the best. so tell me why, as your best friend, would i jeopardize that?” you slight raised your voice.

ushijima frowned, “are you seriously telling me what I want? emphasis on the I? do you think you know me or something y/n? who are you to be put into a position where you can decided what or who i want?” raising his voice even louder. “the fact that you would just assume that... bothers me, how you already planned my future... bothers me, how you always try to pry me open... bothers me, WE AREN’T EVEN DATING.” he noted.

you were mortified. “how could you even say that? sorry that i wanted you to feel? instead of being a huge cold hearted douche. i’ve only ever had good intentions and now you’re better with emotions. you even got yourself a girlfriend, ushijima.” you defend, tears swelling up in your eyes.

“oh, so i go by ushijima now? how petty can you seriously be y/n? face the facts i got a girlfriend, and you dropped me like i was nothing,” he snarled.

“what an idiot. can’t he see that it was the complete opposite” you screamed on the inside.

you took a deep inhale, “drop you like you were nothing? are you fucking serious? I WAS FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU, and listen, i did this for myself. seeing you with HER, everyday killed me. i deadass felt like my heart was smashed and stomped on. and it didn’t help that she was always flaunting your guys’ relationship around me. that’s why i stopped... right now, i can’t even look at you, because if i did, i would fall right back into that pit. all this pain, brought because i was in lo—” you got cut off.

by something warm. and it tasted like peppermint. it was soft, but the pressure put on it seemed rough. you were kissing ushiji-toshi. you, y/n, were kissing toshi. his large hand gripped your cheek, wiping the tears off your face with his thumb. the kiss was very passionate, like it was something you both craved, but fiery, because you guys were still angry at each other. continuously fighting for dominance, and he beat you. his tongue slipped in. you unexpectedly moaned into the kiss and it was music to his ears. how bittersweet that was, you felt embarassed. he never heard you like that. so desperate. and so needy. he trickled down to your jawline then to your neck. you tugged on his hair out of instinct, and could feel his mouth vibrate against your neck. it was intoxicating for both parties.

he pulled away, and you stayed there frozen.

he then, put his thumb on your lips, and whispered in your ear, “don’t ever say that you loved me, like it was past tense,” before moving back to his side of the swing.

you just kissed your best friend, who had a girlfriend. and no matter how much of a bitch she was, you still felt guilty nonetheless. you guys sat there in silence, still trying to process what just happened. you smiled while looking at the slides. you just couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. you remembered about your parents and how they’re probably worried, and so you got up from the swing and opened your hand out for toshi. “c’mon, let’s go home, it’s wednesday.” you smiled.

-

a/n; this part i’m so proud of. my best one uet. even tho i only wrote two fics. and this is just wave one. you think this ended on a happy note? lmao okay. stop reading at part 2 if you want a happy ending. don’t force yourself to feel the pain. like, follow, or repub for another part or to see more of me.

[sushiburritonoms]

@ofcoming4th requested from the AU fic list:

43: falling in love with their best friend’s partner au

There's many characters I can see cheating, but Din and Luke aren't two of them. So have soft pining and breakups instead.

They could all hear Bo screaming at the top of her lungs at Din in the parking lot next to the bar, even over the obnoxiously loud bar music.  Thankfully it was loud enough so he didn’t hear the exact words, but the rage and shrill peaks of their argument still made their way over to Luke. He slumped further into his seat, cradling his right stump close to his chest, and did his best to pretend he heard nothing.

Wedge made no such effort. His boyfriend was leaning towards the slightly open window with Boba.  “It’s the kid argument again,” Wedge said with a shake of his head.  “Damn, Din, you gotta let that go.”

“He needs to dump the bitch,” Boba growled. “I’m sick of him putting up with this shit.”

“Agreed,” Cara said from her seat across from Luke.  “It’s fine if Bo-Katan wants that child-free life, but don’t keep Mando from it if that’s what he wants.”

Fennec took another sip of beer. “How did this even come up? I thought we all agreed not to talk about crotch droppings and other domestic shit.” She had arrived late, just in time to see Bo-Katan drag Din out by his leather jacket.

“Crotch droppings,” Cara snorted. “Ha--good one.”

Boba pointed a finger at Luke. “Fucking Skywalker’s fault.”

Luke sighed. “All I said was that I was watching Ben this weekend.” He slumped further into his seat when he saw Wedge twitch at the mention of his nephew.

Ok, maybe it was his fault. Children were a sensitive topic for both Bo-Katan and Wedge and he’d already had a massive row with his boyfriend earlier about his agreement to watch Ben for the weekend. Luke knew better. But when Din had asked what his plans were he’d just let the words slip out of him. Truth was, he liked having Ben around. He couldn’t help it if Wedge was uninterested in playing Uncle to an (admittedly difficult) child.

More than that, it wasn’t fair to Luke. Leia and Han deserved a break from being parents once and a while and there was no one else his sister could turn to besides him and Chewie. Chewie was in Oaxaca for the month visiting his family, so that left Luke. He’d already arranged it so he would watch Ben at Han and Leia’s house, leaving Wedge alone in their apartment for the weekend. What more did his boyfriend want from him?

There was more shouting outside--this time it was Din’s voice.  It must have been a bad one if Din was raising his voice enough for them to hear it.

“This is why I keep my gay ass out of the whole family conversation,” Cara sighed. “Kids are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Kids are fine. Dealing with parents is the real nightmare,” Boba said, surprising them all with the seriousness in his voice.

“Kids are expensive, loud, needy, and too much work,” Wedge countered. He wasn’t looking at Luke but he felt tense all the same.  “I can reason with adults more than I can with kids.”

“HA! You’re telling me you’d rather put up with Solo than his kid?” laughed Boba. “I’ll take Solo Jr any day.”

“I happen to like Han,” Wedge grumbled.

‘He really doesn’t’, Luke thought sadly.  Han and Wedge were barely cordial these days. Maybe once, back when Luke and Wedge were still flying together in the same squadron, but now that Luke was out of the Air Force and living as a civilian things were strained between his family and Wedge.

Basically, everything about Luke’s life was wrong since his accident. Losing his hand turned out to be the easiest thing to adapt to because he’d had lots of physical support from his medical team, his liaison with the VA, and his family. Sure, his prosthetic wasn’t great, but he’d adapt, and now that he was out of the Force he could smoke his pain away. Nobody expected him to get a job right now and the inheritance from his mother was more than enough to scrape by.

What he hadn’t adapted to was the new strain in his relationship with his boyfriend. Wedge was still enlisted and could be redeployed at a moment’s notice.  Their apartment on base meant that Luke was constantly surrounded by the life he’d been abruptly ripped from and it hurt to see men and women walk by in blues or to hear the screech of fighter jets constantly overhead.  He felt like a damn military spouse, buying food at the commissary every Friday and getting sucked into random conversations about the rising price of beef.  He knew that Wedge desperately wanted Luke to reconsider the Force’s offer to transfer him to the USAF Test Pilot School down at Edwards, but he had no interest in retraining for aerospace.  He wasn’t smart enough for NASA or SpaceX either.

He wasn’t a hotshot anymore. Why was he still living like a parody of one?

Luke came back to himself when he felt Wedge squirm beside them. “I think they’re done,” he said quietly.  Luke listened and sure enough, he heard nothing but country music belting from the bar’s stereos.

“Do you think he’s coming back?” asked Cara.

“The bitch better not,” Boba hissed.

“Maybe someone should go check to see if they’re gone?” Fennec suggested.  “Otherwise we’re paying for their tab.” The table groaned.

“I’ll go,” Luke said as he stumbled to his feet.  It was his fault Din was in this situation, to begin with. He looked to see if Wedge was going to argue but the other man was already focused on trying to badger someone to play darts with him.

That used to be their thing before Luke lost his throwing hand.

Fuck, his life was pathetic.

He marched out of the bar, dragging his jacket behind him. The cold autumn air hit him like a slap to the face as he stepped outside.  The sun was gone and the only lights around were the bar and one sad streetlight several feet away from him. Luke squinted as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he looked around for a familiar black leather jacket or blue dress. “Din? Bo?”

A flicker of light appeared at the edge of his vision and Luke turned to see Din lighting up a cig while leaning against the wall of the bar.  “She’s gone.”  There was no emotion, no heat, behind his words.  The only thing illuminating Din was his lighter and it cast shadows that distorted his face, hiding his facial features like a mask. It was hard to see if he was truly upset by Bo-Katan’s absence or not.

“I’m so sorry. I knew better than to bring Ben up--”

“You did nothing wrong.” Din took a deep drag.  “Don’t apologize.”  Din leaned his head back and Luke could hear the soft thump as he hit the brick wall.  “You wanna…” Din held up his cigarette carton and let his words trail off.

“Sure.”  Luke struggled to pull on his jacket one-handed but Din waited patiently until he was covered. He let Luke pull out a cigarette before he put the carton back into his pocket and pulled out his silver zippo so he could light it for him.

Luke promised Leia he’d try to cut back, but every time he went out to a bar the cravings hit him like a tidal wave.   There was something about being in a dark loud bar with friends that made him crazy for the first rush of nicotine in his system. As he took a long drag he almost moaned at the sensation of smoke curling up deep inside of him. It seeped out of his nose and dragged with it the minor aches and pains that he constantly lived with. That was probably why Din kept it up too.  You could watch a tiny bit of your life pull away from you and curl up into the evening air.

They were silent for a good long while, just taking turns blowing smoke and listening to the raunchy laughter of the servicemen and women inside.  If not for the ever-present awareness Luke had of his missing hand he could almost pretend this was a year ago, before his crash, when Din and Bo-Katan were having a good patch and contemplating marriage.  When Wedge still looked at Luke like he wanted him and when he could just fly away from all his problems. Just him and the endless sky.

“She’s really gone,” Din said finally, breaking the silence and Luke’s self-pity.  He flicked away the butt of his cig and turned to look at Luke.  “It’s over.”

Fuck.  Luke took one last greedy hit before he stomped the rest out with his shoe. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

“I’m not.”  Luke could see Din’s eyes tracking him in the darkness, carefully watching his reaction.  “We should have ended it a long time ago. I knew she was never going to change her mind about getting married and starting a family. That’s just not Kryze.”

Luke couldn’t imagine Bo-Katan as a mother either. He’d never wanted to frankly, and had never seen what Din saw in her. It wasn’t just because he was gay either. “She didn’t deserve you anyway.” On this, the entire friend group was in agreement. Din had lousy taste in women and men.

“Cliché, Skywalker,” Din teased him.  “Are you gonna offer me some wine and chocolate next?”

“Nothing wrong with drinking wine,” Luke shot back.  He had a bottle back ...home.

Home with Wedge.  Luke’s face fell as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

“Hey.” Din nudged Luke with his shoulder. “You ok?”

“That’s supposed to be my line.”

Din shook his head. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Is therapy going ok?” Din looked concerned now and Luke was overcome with a wave of affection. Here was Din, freshly dumped by his long-time girlfriend, and yet he was worried about him.

“It’s going.” Luke waved his stump for emphasis. “Still waiting for my cosmetic hand.  You know how the VA is.” Incompetent and full of red tape.

“It’s been six months,” Din said with a frown.

Luke shrugged.

“Can’t Wedge pull some strings for you?”

“He’s a Captain, not a miracle worker.” Plus that would require Luke and Wedge to actually talk about his missing hand instead of dancing around it.

“You’re not talking to him again, are you?” Din’s fingers twitched and he knew that the other man was longing for another cigarette.  But they were both trying--and failing--to quit so he probably would stand in pain until the craving completely overwhelmed him...five minutes from now.

Luke sighed. He knew Din would see right through his answer. They’d known each other for years now since Luke first hooked up with Wedge after Iraq. Din had been one of the few friends that bothered to visit Luke in the hospital right after his crash.  He’d come as often as his duties would allow, bringing him magazines, snacks, and plenty of base gossip. He’s been Luke’s lifesaver and after he was finally discharged he found himself dragged into Din’s orbit more frequently, standing next to him as they held up the walls of every bar in town with a cloud of smoke. Din knew the basic details of his deteriorating relationship with Wedge; more than anyone else except maybe his sister.

“There’s nothing left to say,” Luke finally admitted.  Nothing that they hadn’t already dissected, fought, and screamed over.

“Luke.” He felt Din’s hand on his shoulder and he looked up into sympathetic brown eyes. “You two either need to get some help or finally end it.” He lessened the harshness of his words by offering another cigarette to him with his other hand.

Leia was going to kill him.

Luke let Din put the cig in his mouth and light it for him.  The intoxication of the smoke and the closeness of his friend made him dizzy and lightheaded. Din reeked of smoke, leather, and stale beer, and yet it was comforting all the same.

“We never talked about any of this,” Luke admitted. “I never thought I’d leave.” Except maybe via a body bag. He knew Wedge felt the same way, as did nearly everyone in Luke’s squadron. That’s why their visits had been short and performative after his accident.  His squadmates pitied and feared him...and he didn’t blame any of them for that.

“Well, I’m done.” Din lit up and turned to blow the smoke away from Luke’s face. “I’m done with all of this shit. I’m discharging and going back to college.”

“Y-you...really?” Luke stuttered. He knew Din’s IRR was almost up but he just assumed he’d re-elist like all of their friends.  “You’re gonna leave Boba and Cara?”

You’re gonna leave me?

“Fett, Dune, and Bo are lifers. I never saw myself extending even this long.  That last fight, it wasn’t just that I wanted a family and Bo-Katan didn’t. She’s committed and this is just a job for me.” The look on Din’s face was peaceful. He met Luke’s confused eyes with calm focus.

“Oh.” Luke didn’t know what else to say. Good on you? Good luck?

Din sighed. “Wedge is one of them.” Din jerked his head towards the wall of the bar. “He’s never gonna leave until they give him the boot. You know that right?”

Luke nodded wordlessly. Until he lost his hand he’d thought he was one of them too.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life. Just do me a favor.  You listening?” Din paused until Luke squirmed uncomfortably and nodded. “Try to put yourself first for once in your life. You deserve more than this too.”

Then Din stepped away. He threw the end of his cig on the floor and stomped it out.  “I’m gonna head out. You can tell the others everything, I’m sure they’ll all be thrilled.”

Luke shook his head to try to find his voice again. “Hell no, I’m not telling them you’re leaving!” Fuck that was going to be a disaster conversation.

Din laughed. “Ok fair enough. Just tell them about Bo. Cara will owe Boba $50 so she might as well get paid now before the idiot spends it all on booze.” Then without waiting for Luke to reply, Din started to walk towards his bike with his hands in his pockets.

Luke watched as Din walked away, with his head held up high. He looked lighter already. Letting go of Bo-Katan must have settled the anguish that had permeated his entire being for months now. It was strange, Luke had grown used to seeing Din with slumped shoulders and downturned lips. Whenever he had visited him at the VA, he’d always looked so beaten.  But now, he was walking away like a new man.

More than that, he looked like the old Din again. The one Luke had once found very attractive before he’d gotten too involved with Wedge to notice other people around him.  It was like watching someone reappear in his scope of vision while he was in the cockpit of his fighter, or like watching a bird reappear from the clouds.

“Din!” Luke shouted.  He watched as the other man turned back. He meant to say something appreciative, a thank you for the smokes and the advice. Instead what slipped out of his lips was, “I’m taking Ben to the zoo this weekend! Do you want to come?”

He didn’t know what exactly possessed him to say that, but it was worth it to see Din’s face break out into a real honest-to-god smile. “Yeah, sure. Text me!”

He watched Din until the man disappeared with a loud roar of his Harley, until his cigarette was ashes in his fingers and he felt his own smile finally fade away.

---

Previous responses

28. Knocking on the wrong door (Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan)

38.cop/person getting a speeding ticket au (Din/Luke)

30: tourist/knowledgeable local au (Din/Luke)

19. parents meeting when they take their kids to class au (Din/Luke)

15: meeting in the E.R/A&E au (Din/Luke/Boba)

40: Soul destroying exes meeting again after not speaking for years au (Din/Luke)

25: Library/Avid Reader AU Part I (Din/Luke)

Library AU part II (Din/Luke, Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon)