#how long were they all trapped there and are they stuck in a time loop

[harvestmoth]

something something familiar

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

REPEATING OVER AND OVER, AND OVER, UNTIL YOU MAKE IT TILL THE END!

YOU'LL NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN!

synopsis// both of you stuck in a time loop until you can accept each other. you can not make it out alone no matter how hard you try.

pairing// katsuki bakugo x gn!reader

word count// 9.6k

contents// no quirks, angst, fluff ?, they r idiots, slow burn-ish? at least at first, profanity. like a lot. i stg they cuss every other sentence, it’s like i was a middle school boy who just discovered cuss words writing this, ooc bakugo probably, ages aren’t specified but they r adults, pure cringe but its mha and coming from me so did u expect anything different..?

notes// my last mha draft... im finally free.... anyway i wrote this ages ago but i rlly love this and it may or may not have been inspired by a fnaf song..... (it totally was)

You wake up with a gasp, sitting up quickly to find everything in the room in the same place it was the last hundred times you woke up.

“A-fucking-gain?!”

You throw your legs over the side of your bed and reach for your phone, hoping for something different but getting nothing. There are no notifications, no services, and no matter how long you stare at the time, it never changes. You would know considering you’ve done this routine a hundred times. You throw your phone back onto the nightstand and slip your shoes on, the repetitiveness of it all making your head spin. You’ve got to be going insane; what other logical explanation could there be for reliving the same day over and over again?

"I don't know what I did to piss the universe off, but now it's pissing me off," you mumble as you walk out of your empty house—you'd know because you've checked every nook and cranny for the past hundred times. The minute you step outside, you shout at the air, the sky, the universe, the gods, whatever put you here, “Is this what you wanted? pay back? You fucking got it!” 

You stand there half hoping that something would happen, whether someone appeared or a voice would say something to you, but nothing; it’s just complete silence apart from the wind whooshing by. though that’s not to say people weren’t here. If you went far enough into the city, there were crowds of people walking around with no destinations; they seemed like NPCs. The only difference is that you can interact with NPCs, whereas the shells of humans you see in town don't talk, at least not to you. They don't even acknowledge you. It’s almost as if you’re a ghost, which is ironic considering how, when you were alive—no, that's not the right word, sentient maybe? Whatever the point is, when you were a productive member of society, you longed for something exactly like this. To slip by people like the wind, like a ghost, yet now that you have it, you wish for anything but this.

"God, if this is what the afterlife is like, I don't plan on dying anytime soon,” you mutter to yourself as you walk deeper into the city. “Maybe this is the afterlife? or maybe this is hell.”

You stare at your feet as you walk until you hit the point where there are empty husks of humans walking past, and at this point you lift your head, starting to wave at them and standing directly in front of them in a futile attempt to get their attention. Of course it serves to be useless when they walk right past you... just like they have the last hundred times you’ve tried. After a few more futile attempts, you begin walking past them toward a forest. This has been your routine for the entire time you've been trapped here, wherever here may be.

You check your home, walk outside, curse a higher being and ask what you've done to deserve this, contemplate life—or lack thereof?, walk into the city, try to catch someone's attention, and when that doesn't work, you walk off into the forest, spending the whole day there— or you would if time worked properly here—and eventually finding yourself at some random, poorly placed door deep into the forest. You stand right in front of the door; it mocks you, and you imagine yourself tearing it to shreds if it weren't for the fact that the minute you touch it, you're back at square one. You opt to sit in front of the door, just merely studying it; it’s not like there's really much else for you to do.

You don’t know how long you just sit there going back and forth between staring at the door and tearing out the grass from under your hands; had time worked properly here, you’re sure that the moon would have been out by now. You finally admit defeat—for the hundredth time. You stand up and wipe your hands clean of the dirt now laid upon them before you look around the door once more, hoping for something new to appear behind it or beside it, but nothing—the only thing behind the door is more empty forest. So with a sigh, you begrudgingly touch the door handle, and you immediately find yourself waking up with a gasp, sitting up quickly, with everything in the room in the same place it was the last hundred times you woke up again.

This time, though, you don't get up immediately; you lay back down in your bed with a sigh, pulling your blanket up to your chin. You’ve always been alone. This wasn't new to you, but at least before it was your choice. It wasn’t like people didn’t want to be your friend; you just didn’t want to be theirs. In some fucked-up way, you saw your hyper-independence as superior to how other people seemed to need and want friends. but now? Now you want nothing more than to be annoyed by your coworker; you want nothing more than to walk outside and run into someone who will acknowledge you; even if it isn't a positive interaction, it's still an interaction. and after being stuck here for ages, you would kill for an interaction. You throw your blanket off of you as you begin your routine, finally having enough of your pity party.

Check phone? Check.

Put your shoes on? Check.

Search every inch of your house? Check. 

Step outside and curse the universe? Check. 

Find yourself surronded by people where you cant tell if you’re the ghost here or if they are? Check! Wait—Is that a new person?

You've been here long enough to have memorized or at least vaguely remembered every single person in the crowd, but this new face in the distance isn't one you've seen before; it's unique, you'd remember it, so who is this? Is this a sign your time here is coming to an end? In a frenzy, you push your way through the crowd, ignoring all your thoughts. You stop a few feet in front of him; he’s still a bit away as you study him. His brow furrowed in a scowl, and he's muttering something under his breath that you can't quite make out, but you can tell he's frustrated by his facial expression and the way his hands are curled into tight fists at his side, knuckles paper white at this point.

He finally reaches you but ignores you as he walks past you, and you sigh, wondering why you thought he'd be the one to acknowledge you.

you frown, mumbling aloud to yourself in disappointment, “Do I really need any more NPCs here?”

suddenly though, he stops dead in his tracks like he heard you and he turns around to face you. Holy shit, he heard you?

“What the fuck did you say to me?”

You stare at him blankly before looking to the sides of you and even behind you. “Uh, are you talking to me?”

He looks at you like you’re stupid as he takes a few steps toward you, and subconsciously, you take a few back. “Of course I'm talking to you; who the fuck else would I be talking to?”

You put your hands out in front of you in a stop motion briefly, your face scrunching up in disdain. "Chill the fuck out, asshole, it was just a question."

“Chill the fuck out?” He repeats in disbelief and takes another step forward, while you stand still, tensing up to appear tougher. “I'm stuck in some weird ass place where, up to this point, no one except for your dumbass has even acknowledged me and you’re telling me to chill the fuck out?”

You roll your eyes at his outburst and ask curiously, “You just got here, didn’t you?”

“What the hell do you think? Where even are we?”

"A time loop of some sort,” you say nonchalantly as you shrug, though everything you’re feeling right now is anything but nonchalance.

He scoffs. “Time loop? You expect me to believe that stupid shit?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Believe what you want, either way, you’re still stuck here, idiot.”

“Oh, Im the idiot for getting stuck here? What about you?”

“Me?” you scoff.

“You seem like you’ve been here longer than I have, and you’re still not out. So who’s the real idiot?”

You cross your arms and look away, grumbling, “Maybe I like it here.”

He looks you up and down before rolling his eyes and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I doubt that.”

Your gaze returns to him with a glare. “Fuck you, I was going to help you.”

“I don't need your fucking help,” he sneers. "You obviously have no idea what the fuck you're doing in the first place."

You walk away, flipping him off, and he does the same, both of you going your separate ways. Though once you hit the edge of the forest, you turn to look back and see if he’s anywhere near, but it’s like he never existed at all. back to the routine.

Enter the forest and walk for an unreasonable amount of time? Check. 

Reach the out of place, uncanny door deep in the forest? Check. 

Stare at it and imagine ripping it to shreds until it's nothing but dust? Check.

Finally sit down and accept your fate for a bit? Check. 

You sigh as you poke at the dirt, the patches of grass you pulled out last time returning to normal as if you had never ripped them out in the first place. Remember what you said earlier about wishing for human interaction? You changed your mind after meeting that random guy, who quickly reminded you why you disliked it in the first place. Although you’ve made up your mind about hating him, you can't help but wonder what he’s doing here in the first place. Obviously, you have no idea why you’re here either, but why did he just pop up after doing this a hundred times or more already? Why is he the only one who can suddenly acknowledge your existence? Maybe there was a glitch in your eternal hell; maybe this was an accident, and he’d be gone by the time you did this all over again. Back to the routine.

Stand up and clean your hands of dirt? Check. 

Touch the door handle and wake back up in your bed with a gasp? Check!

You groan and grip your head slightly; the action of being in one place only to suddenly be in another never fails to give you a slight headache. Today, you go through your routine quickly in order to get into the city faster. You want to know if he's still here so badly that you almost seem desperate. much to your dismay, and his—he’s still here and groans at the sight of you.

"What the fuck did you do?" he demands angrily.

You narrow your eyes at him. You regret coming here. “excuse me?”

“One minute I'm walking, and the next I'm back here."

“It’s called a time loop for a reason, idiot.”

“I don't fucking care what it’s called, just stop doing it," he snaps.

“Oh yeah, like I fucking control that! Let me just stop this whole time loop while we’re at it, huh?”

He says nothing; he merely flips you off and walks away, and you do the same.

Just like every other time you find yourself back at the door in the forest, this time you don’t wait to touch it; you immediately go for the handle and restart the time loop in spite of him snapping at you. He comes into your time loop and has the audacity to complain? No one told him to invade your eternal hell. The first handful of days (if you could even call them that) go the exact same way. Wake up, check phone, slip on shoes, check house, curse the universe some more, go into the crowd, argue with the blond-haired boy who seemed to piss you off beyond words, go your separate ways, go into the forest, find the door, think about tearing down said door, sit on the floor for a bit, and then finally go to touch the door only to do it all over again.

The next handful of days were similar, except you and the invader of your eternal hell eventually stopped arguing; you two still acknowledged each other, but only with a scowl and a flip of your middle fingers, walking straight past each other to do your own thing. You can't say you were upset with the arrangement because at least you didn't have to listen to his whining any longer. You just hated how something was added to the time loop yet it seems like nothing has changed at all. you're still stuck, and the door still won't budge. What exactly are you even supposed to be doing? How do you escape? Can you even escape?

You wake up with a gasp for what now seems like the thousandth time, and you're starting to feel the effects of being here for so damn long. You’re exhausted, your bones ache, and you feel like you could drop dead at any moment. Then again, who’s to say you aren’t already dead? You lazily go through your routine; everything is as it should be until you get into the city. The crowds are still there, but someone is missing. The only person who has acknowledged you is missing. Part of you is happy that he’s gone; it’s not like you two have had a productive conversation in the time he's been there; if anything, he was hindering your escape. but the other part?

The other part is a tad bit disappointed, for two reasons. that one, he managed to get out before you, and two, you’re all alone again. As you begin walking toward the forest, you groan. Who cares? It’s not like you needed him or wanted him here anyway; you could get out on your own. Sometime lost in thought, you finally made it to the entrance of the forest, stopping and resting against a tree. You wonder if the longer you stay, the worse you start to deteriorate, like whatever this place is doesn’t want you here in the first place. You frown, it’s not like you want to be here anymore than this place wants you here; you didn’t ask to get stuck in some stupid ass time loop.

“I’ve had enough of your games! let me out!” You scream into the woods, half expecting someone to respond, and someone does.

“Do you have to be so loud?” A deep voice comes from beside you, tone full of annoyance.

You jump slightly as you turn your head to the side to see the owner of the voice, and you’re almost disappointed to see it’s the blond boy with a permanent scowl and jaw clenched tight.

“What the fuck, you’re still here?” You ask breathlessly, still trying to calm your racing heart from his slight jumpscare.

He rolls his eyes and leans against a nearby tree to mimic you. “Where the fuck else would I have gone?”

"I thought you got out or something..."

"Clearly not," he says, tsking. “What is this?”

“A forest. What does it look like, idiot?”

“No shit, I mean, why are we here?”

You stare at him as blankly as your voice comes out, "We? How the hell did you even get here?”

“Followed you,” he says as he crosses his arms. 

“You... followed me?” you repeat curiously.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

"Why?" you ask softly, catching him off guard. You almost miss how his eyes widen at the sudden shift toward him.

He sighs and looks away, preferring to take in his surroundings, which mainly consist of the seemingly endless forest. "I've looked everywhere else and there's nothing, so I'm assuming you've found something if you keep coming here."

You hum, so he’s not just an angry idiot after all; he’s an observant idiot too.

“So?” he asks with a small bob of his head. 

"So what?"

He scowls, which takes you by surprise because you thought he was already scowling... must just be his face then. “So, did you find something?”

“Oh,” you say. "Yeah, I did, kinda.”

He seems to perk up, impatiently asking, “What is it?”

You go silent briefly, unsure of how to explain a random, uncanny door deep into the forest. "uh- it's difficult to explain," you admit sheepishly.

“Just spit it out already, idiot.”

“No, because you probably won’t even believe me!” you snap in frustration.

He rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the tree. “Then show me.”

You stare at him with wide eyes as he walks into the forest. “What?” 

“Show me dumbass!” He barks back at you, not pausing to slow down.

You push yourself off the tree in a hurry, yelling as you run after him, “Can you fucking wait! You don’t even know where you’re going!”

He stops, but not without groaning dramatically, which makes you roll your eyes. You caught up to him quickly because he wasn't far away, but that didn't stop you from bending over and placing your hands on your knees as you breathed heavily in and out.

He looks down at you in slight disgust. “You didn’t even run that far, why are you acting like you're dying?”

“Because,” you breathe out heavily. "It takes a toll on you when you've been stuck here as long as I have!"

“Whatever, just hurry up.”

After a moment, you stand back up fully and jerk your head toward the forest, silently telling the boy, “Let's go.”

The walk is quiet; awkwardness hangs heavy in the air as you sluggishly lead the way. It makes you wish he had escaped, because then you wouldn’t have to be dealing with this.

“How long have you been here?” He asks, breaking the silence, which takes you by surprise, but you’re sure anything he does that isn’t just him scowling or yelling could take you by surprise at this point.

You clear your throat. “I dunno…. long.” 

“You don’t know?”

"I stopped counting after the hundredth time the loop reset," you shrug.

“Jesus christ, you’ve been here that long?”

“Unfortunately,” you sigh. 

Another moment of silence lingers between the two of you as you walk through the forest, but at least the awkwardness has subsided. Though how slowly you're walking is starting to irritate him. 

“Can you walk any faster?” he asks harshly. 

“I’m tired.” 

“Not my problem.”

“You know what?” you say, stopping dead in your tracks. “I think I’m actually gonna take a break.”

“What?” he asks as he watches you sit down on the floor, leaning back against a tree.

you smile up at him mockingly. “Yep! I’m super tired; I need a break.”

He scoffs. “Fuck you, get up.”

You shake your head. “Nah, I don’t think I will. If you wanna get there so bad, find it yourself.”

He glares at you, his lip twitching with the threat of turning into a sneer. “Fine, I will,” he says through clenched teeth.

You’re still smiling at him as you wave goodbye and watch him walk deeper into the forest. He won’t find it. You know that because the door is still a ways away—you've done this walk over a hundred times—he has no chance of finding it without you, so you'll just sit here and relax until he comes running back to you. Lord knows you need it.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Sometime during your relaxing, you ended up falling asleep. Which you didn’t even know was possible here, but nonetheless, it was well appreciated. You would have continued sleeping if it hadn't been for something softly kicking your legs. You frown and try to swat whatever is kicking you away without opening your eyes, wanting to sleep more, but the kicking doesn't stop. You finally, and begrudgingly, open your eyes to find the boy (who you knew would come back) is the one kicking you.

"Oh, you're back already," you yawn, rubbing your eyes.

He stared at you curiously. “Already?” 

You nod as you stand up. “I knew you’d come back.”

“Fuck you, you don’t know shit.” 

"Then why are you back?"

He tsks and looks away. “Whatever.” 

“That’s what I thought,” you say triumphantly. 

He says nothing; instead, he waits for you to start walking ahead so he can follow you. Your walking is much faster now, and although you're still exhausted, it’s much more tolerable now. It's as if the fog around your head has lifted, and you can function normally now. If time worked properly here, it would have been about an hour or two after you guys resumed walking when he finally decided to break the long silence.

“Jesus christ, do you even know where you’re going?” he asks in frustration.

You roll your eyes. “Of course I do. I'm not an idiot.”

“Debatable,” he mumbles under his breath.

You decide to ignore that and sigh. “We’re almost there chill out.” There's another lull of silence before you ask, "What's your name?"

He turns to look at you briefly with narrowed eyes before settling his gaze back in front of him. “What? Why the fuck would I tell you that?"

"We're stuck in a time loop together, so I thought it would be nice to know your name, but if you just want me to keep referring to you as an idiot, I'd be more than happy-"

"It's Bakugo," he cuts you off, clearly annoyed.

“I'm y/n,” you say with a grin—wait, you’re actually smiling at getting to know someone? That's odd; you would never... But you guess you could allow it just this once, considering the circumstances.

“Didn’t ask.”

You ignore him. “We’re almost there, by the way.”

“Fucking finally, what even is it?”

You’re close enough that you can see it in the distance. you point at it as you speak, “a-“

“A door?” he erupts, cutting you off and beginning to run off toward it.

You quickly run after him. “Bakugo wait, don't t-“

You suddenly awake with a gasp.

“Don't touch it,” you say to yourself with a groan. "Fucking idiot," you mutter as you roll out of bed, ignoring your routine and simply slipping on your shoes and running off into the city to find him again.

Once you arrive, like yesterday, you can’t find him, and you frown as you start walking toward the forest, because if it’s anything like yesterday, he’d end up there. At least you're hoping he’s there, because if he actually managed to get out before you by doing the same thing you’ve done for a hundred plus times, you would be furious. You arrive at the forest to find him already there, leaning against a tree, and you sigh out in relief as he stands up straight once he sees you.

"What the fuck happened?" he asks when you reach him.

You exhale heavily, slightly frustrated, a dull pain in your head adding to your frustration. "Well, if you had let me explain, I would have told you that touching the door resets the time loop."

"Oh,” he says blankly. “Sorry.” 

“You’re apologizing?..” You ask in slight disbelief, he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would, but then again, you don’t even know him. Who are you to judge him? Wow, you’ve been here so long that you’ve actually gotten to the point of not judging people; maybe you are going insane.

“Yeah.” 

“You don’t seem like someone who would.” 

He shrugs. “I wasn't, but, uh, I’ve been trying to work on it or something.”

“I’m not either,” you confess. “But, uh, for the record, I guess i’m sorry too… for you know, yelling at you?” 

A range of emotions seem to slather themselves onto Bakugo’s face. first anger, then confusion, and then disgust before his usual scowl returns. “Whatever. What now?” 

“Now we go back to the door.”

“And do what?”

“Stare at it? I don't know,” you sigh. 

“I’m sorry?” he says in confusion as his eyes immediately narrow in on you. “Is that all you’ve been doing? Staring at the fucking door?”

You throw your arms up in the air dramatically as you defend yourself, asking, “What the fuck else am I supposed to do? If I touch it, the time loop restarts!”

His eye twitches. “So we’re just gonna stare at it. Until what? We fucking die here?”

“Who’s to say we aren’t even already dead?” you mumble under your breath in annoyance. “Besides, do you have any better ideas?”

Bakugo stays silent. 

“Right, that’s what I thought.”

He tsks and starts walking into the forest. “Whatever, let's just go.”

You find yourself biting back a smile at what you consider a win, even if this wasn’t a challenge; you just have a terrible habit of seeing everything as a challenge... but nonetheless you find yourself walking with him side by side quietly. The walk was, of course, long, but not as long as last time considering you didn’t stop to sleep this time, so the two of you quickly found yourselves at the door. Both of you just stand there staring at it.

“Maybe it’ll actually do something this time,” Bakugo says, tilting his head at the door as if trying to look at it from a different angle.

You drop yourself to the ground, sitting down with a soft groan. “Try whatever you want in a little bit; doesn’t the time loop being reset hurt your head?”

Bakugo looks down at you and shrugs. “Haven’t noticed.” 

You laugh, though it comes out more like a huff of air. “You will eventually.”

Bakugo stares at you curiously, what you said having piqued his interest, as he plops himself down on the ground next to you. “How long have you been here?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You’ve already asked me that.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m asking again.” 

“I don’t know. My answer's still the same.” 

He nods slowly. “What was it like?” he asks. "You know, in the beginning, all alone?"

“You actually care?” you ask, wide-eyed and in slight disbelief.

He tsks and returns his attention to the door in front of him. “I don't,” he says harshly. “I’m just trying to make conversation; what the fuck else are we supposed to do?”

"Fair enough," you say, nodding slightly. "At first, I kinda liked it here."

“How?” 

“I liked being alone.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” he spits out. 

You frown. “You don’t look like the type to enjoy other people’s company either.”

“I don’t.” 

“Then what the fuck?”

"I don't like people, but I also don't like being alone," he says softly.

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Whatever,” he says. “So what? Do you not like being alone anymore?”

you shrug. “If being alone meant I didn’t have to deal with your dumbass anymore, then yes, I still like being alone.”

“Fuck you; you just complained about being alone,” he grumbled.

“I did not complain,” you explain. “I’m just saying I like being alone when it’s on my own terms.”

He hums. 

“And you?” you ask. 

"And me what?" he asks, his eyes narrowing at the door.

"What was it like when you first got here?"

“Oh,” he says before he thinks for a moment. “I don’t know; annoying more than anything. I have shit to do in the real world; this doesn’t help.”

You pull your knees in toward your chest. “Where do you even think we are?”

"Fuck if I know," he says, shrugging. "I just want to get the fuck out; if I was stuck here as long as you, I'd probably go insane."

You stare at him blankly. “You’re already insane, and I'm already insane.”

Bakugo side eyes you. 

“What other logical explanation is there for us being here? We’re obviously crazy.”

He huffs and you almost find yourself mistaking it for a laugh. "Yeah, I guess so.”

You feel your heart race a little, and although you two still bicker a bit, you can’t deny how much you're starting to appreciate his company. It's an odd feeling, really, appreciating company for a change instead of immediately trying to get rid of it. As you push yourself up onto your feet, you sigh. “Round two?” 

He nods as he copies your actions by standing up. “Guess so.” 

You take a deep breath before touching the door, only to gasp as you awaken, but this time there's another gasp. You look beside you and discover Bakugo in your bed, which causes you to fall out of it from shock.

"Jesus, why are you in my bed?!"

“Why are you asking like I fucking know?!”

You immediately rose to your feet, rubbing your head because, if the headache from the reset wasn’t enough, you also hit it when you fell out of bed. “What the fuck is going on…”

Bakugo quickly gets out of your bed and tsks. “Why’d it change?”

“Maybe the time loop likes us working together?” You ask rhetorically because it's not like Bakugo has an answer either.

“Yeah, or it hates us working together.”

“Whatever it is, at least something changed finally. Maybe other things changed too?” you wonder as you go to slip on your shoes.

“Do we plan on just going back to the stupid ass door every time?”

"It's not like we have any other options, Bakugo. Are you ready?”

“I fucking guess.”

The two of you venture off into the city, with nothing seeming out of place or changed, and it becomes obvious that the only thing that changed was Bakugo being in your bed when you end up reaching the door.

"So much for something changing," mutters Bakugo, frustrated.

You drop yourself to the ground again. “This is annoying.”

He mimics your actions. “No shit.”

A moment of silence falls between you two before you speak up. “Are you even real?”

Bakugo’s face scrunches up in annoyance and confusion. “What the fuck do you mean am i real?”

“I don't know! Maybe I have gone insane and just made you up!”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I'm real. I have a whole fucking life outside of this place,” he turns his attention to you, “Are you real?”

“Yes, I also have a whole fucking life outside of this place,” you snap back.

He hums, almost like he doesn't believe you, but he doesn't outright say it, and you quickly respond with a hum of your own before laying yourself down on the grass, looking up toward the never-changing sky. It's so blue and there are so many clouds that it almost looks fake, which makes sense given that this entire place appears to be fake, an empty husk of the real place that exists somewhere else outside of here.

"How was your life?" you inquire, seemingly out of nowhere.

Bakugo looks down at you. “Boring,” he says with a sigh. "It wasn't as boring as this place, but it was still fucking boring; at least I had friends and could do shit there."

You can't help but giggle. “You had friends?”

He scowls at you and flips you off before turning away and nodding. “Unlike you, I'm sure.”

You shrug, though it looks more like a jolt. “I prefer being alone.”

“You say that, but you’re not all that convincing.”

“Oh, fuck off and tell me about your imaginary friends,” you snicker and ignore his very wrong—very right— comment.

He bit back a smirk in response to your jab at him. Normally, Bakugo would despise anyone who dared to fight back, but right now? It was actually nice? which, the feeling within itself, made Bakugo want to hate you even more.

“Bakugo?” you ask after a few moments of silence. 

“Shut up, I'm thinking,” he snaps. "There are only three people I consider to be my friends."

You laugh. “What?”

“The rest are just.. acquaintances.”

You hum in content, your hands behind your head. “Tell me bout em.”

“There's this nerd; I've known him since we were kids,” he begins to explain. “I was a douche to him.”

"I can believe that."

Bakugo gives you a look that either says he wants to murder you or for you to shut up, and you merely grin up at him.

"He somehow forgave me, and yeah, we've been friends since."

“And the other two?”

“Some dumbass with shitty hair and another dumbass with pink cheeks,” he explains vaguely.

"Wow, I'm sure they really enjoy being called a dumbass," you state flatly.

He shrugs. "They should if they want to be my friend."

“Those are your only requirements? Tolerate being called a dumbass and anyone can be your friend?” you tease. 

“Shut up, at least I have friends.”

“I already told you, I like being alone!” you defend with a pout.

He hums as he lays himself down. “And I already told you I don't believe you.”

"Believe what you want," you say as you turn to face him, only to find him already looking at you. “Besides, what do you care?”

He shifts his gaze to the sky. “I don’t.”

You follow along with him, looking back up at the sky, mumbling, "Sure you don't."

Bakugo doesn't bother replying, and you don't bother trying to keep the conversation going. The two of you just lay there, staring up at the sky and listening to the trees sway in the wind.

You suddenly find yourself being woken up with small kicks to your legs, and you groan. You try to open your eyes only to be blinded by the sun.

“Jesus Christ!” you wince.

Bakugo groans as he places his hand over your face to shield your eyes from the sun. You finally get them to open, and you mutter a small thanks to him.

“Did I fall asleep?” you ask as you stand up. 

Bakugo shoves his hands into his pockets with a nod. “Yeah.”

“Sorry...”

"It's fine," he says, shrugging. “Round three?”

You nod as you stretch, which is a pointless action when you're about to be thrown into your bed, but you do it anyway. Bakugo touches the door, and you find yourselves immediately waking up with a gasp in your bed.

You jump straight up and rub your temples. “God, I will never get used to that.”

"Yeah, because the day you get used to that is the day you lose your mind."

You slip your shoes on and roll your eyes. “Ready?”

He stares at you blankly.

"Stupid question, my bad, damn," you quickly add, realizing he's not going to say anything.

When the two of you walk out of your house, Bakugo's steps are loud, and you can tell he's annoyed just by them. Bakugo tries to walk into the city only to be stopped by something.

"What are you doing?" you ask, watching him stagger backwards.

"It's not me," he snaps as he extends his hand in front of him, only to be stopped by something that isn't there, he kind of looks like a mime.

You hold back a laugh as you join him by his side, reaching out only to be stopped by an invisible wall of some sort; this makes your face drop. “What the fuck?”

“Exactly.”

“So what? We aren't allowed in the city anymore?”

"I guess not." Bakugo groans, annoyed. “Is there another way to the forest?”

You don't even get the chance to reply when the two of you hear rumbling. Both your heads snapping toward the noise only to see a newly carved out path to the forest in the distance.

You swallow hard, blinking at the scene in front of you. “You, uh, you saw that right?”

Bakugo nods slowly. “I did.”

You laugh nervously and extend your hands as if to show off the new path. “After you.”

“Fuck no, after you.”

“What are you scared? Coward.”

Bakugo glares at you. “Fuck you,” he says before starting to walk toward the path, and you smile in triumph.

The two of you are silent the whole walk, taking in your new surroundings for anything suspicious. This walk seems longer than the one from the city, but it's not like you expected anything different, and it doesn't matter when you finally get to the door.

"Why are things changing so suddenly?" you wonder as you stare at the door.

"Hell if I know," mumbles Bakugo, joining you in staring at the door.

“Do you think we’re doing something right?” you ask as you turn your head to look at him.

“Or something wrong.”

“God, this is so weird,” you sigh in frustration as you take a few steps back and sit down. 

He turns to look down at you, perplexed. “Oh, now it's weird? It wasn't weird the first hundred fucking times we stared at this door?”

"You know what I mean."

He rolls his eyes as he sits down a few feet in front of you. “Whatever.”

You both sit there in silence, your minds racing with confusion. Why are things changing now, and are they changing for the better or for the worse? You sit there picking at your nails while he sits there staring at the door like he’s trying to make it explode with his mind. After a while, Bakugo sighs, and this catching of your attention makes you look up at him. When he speaks up, you're about to ask if he's okay.

“What was your life like?” He asks out of nowhere, and you certainly were not expecting that to come out of his mouth.

“Oh,” you say in slight confusion. “Um, fine? I don't know; I mean, I didn't have friends-“

“Knew it,” he chimes in with a smirk. 

“Fuck off.”

"So, what did you have if you didn't have friends?" He asks flatly, not as if he really cares but as if he's just trying to avoid silence, which could be him caring in some ways.

“I had a job at a little coffee shop,” you recall with a small smile.

“I thought you would've worked from home or something.”

“Why?”

“Because you hate people and like being alone?” He says it almost condescendingly, like you should have already known the reason why.

“Huh,” you say flatly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Maybe you were subconsciously yearning for social interaction?

“I'm always right.”

You hum and lay yourself down. “What’s your full name?”

He lays down with you. “Why the fuck do you wanna know? You gonna stalk me?”

“You wish.”

“Katsuki Bakugo.”

“That’s a nice name.”

He closes his eyes. “I know dumbass.”

“You could’ve just said thank you.”

“Thank you,” he says harshly, like he's mocking you, but you ignore it and smile. “What’s yours?” he asks quietly.

“Y/n L/n.”

“My name is better, but yours is alright, I guess,” he says under his breath, like this is his best attempt at a compliment.

You laugh softly, and the noise causes Bakugo's cheeks to warm, which he tries to ignore and blames on the sun. You don't bother responding and close your eyes. Both of you are just laying there with your eyes closed, enjoying each other's company, or at least you're enjoying his. Which is odd; it makes you slightly nauseous to think that for once, you’re actually enjoying someone's company.

Had someone told real life you that you'd be enjoying someone's company, you would have laughed in their face and probably insulted them for not being as “independent” as you are. But despite all of that, you can't actually say you hate it—not at all, actually. but for the time being, you're blaming that on the circumstances. After a while, you find yourself opening your eyes, slightly wincing at the bright sun, but turning your head to look at Bakugo, who is staring up at the sky without a scowl on his face. Huh. You thought that scowl was permanent, though he actually looks surprisingly nice without one?

“Are you dead?” you ask out of nowhere.

Bakugo flinches slightly, taken aback by your voice. “Being dead would probably be better than this.”

“Rude,” you huff.

“I mean the situation, not you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you tease. “Round four?”

He sighs defeatedly. “Yeah, I guess.”

You nod as the two of you stand up and quickly dust yourselves off. You step toward the door and find yourself hesitating.

“What are you waiting for?” Bakugo asks impatiently.

You shake your head and touch the door. You both wake up with a gasp, but you're not in your room; instead, you're back on the forest floor where you were just moments ago.

“What the fuck?” you exclaim aloud.

"Did you touch it?" asks Bakugo, looking down at the ground beneath him.

“Of course I did!” you explain. “I don't understand?”

Bakugo quickly stands up and offers a hand out to help you out. You hesitate to take his hand, making him shake his head as if to silently ask, “What's the problem?” You sigh as you accept his help.

Once your up, Bakugo pulls his hand away and asks, “Should we try to go back to your house?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, that's a good idea.”

Bakugo nods back, and you find yourself walking out of the forest, a strange feeling given that you're always walking in, never out; it's eerie in a way. You’ve only been walking for, what you assume, a few minutes when he speaks up.

"Is that actually your house?" he wonders. "Like in the real world, I guess."

You shake your head. “Nah, I just call it that considering how long I've been here, you know? I actually live in an apartment.”

He hums. “Me too.”

"You too?"

“Yes? Why the fuck do you sound so shocked?” he asks with a confused shake of his head.

"I don't know... I guess you seem like the type of person who would say they're too good for an apartment," you explain with a shrug.

“It’s cheaper, and because I have a roommate that makes it even more cheap.”

“Oh!! Let me guess!” you speak up excitedly. “Is it the nerd? Or the shitty hair? Oh or the pink cheeks?”

He finds himself chuckling at your use of his nicknames for them, and the sound goes straight to your stomach. Butterflies immediately begin to grow there. “It's the nerd,” he says once he’s finally composed himself.

You nod with a smile. “My roommate is a cat.”

He hums, and before he can respond, he walks straight into something, just like the last time, except this time it's not the invisible city wall he walked into but the middle of the forest. You immediately find yourself frantically grabbing at the invisible force.

“Are you serious?” you fume. “Now we’re trapped in the fucking forest?”

Bakugo finds himself walking toward the sides, only to find that those are blocked off by nothing as well. “So what? we can’t leave?”

“It doesn’t want us to leave,” you correct him. 

“Who the fuck is it?” Bakugo asked with a confused glare.

“Whatever the fuck is doing this.”

Bakugo sighs out in defeat as he places his hands on his hips, letting his head drop as he just stares at the floor. “Now what?” he mumbles.

You rub your face in frustration. “We go back to the door, I guess.”

He lifts his head and tsks. “Great.”

The walk back into the forest is tense, but since you two had only made it halfway before being stopped, it wasn't that long. Still, the air between you two had become suffocating from your respective frustrations with being trapped here, his more so than yours. Finally, you two arrive at the door, and Bakugo collapses to the ground with a loud groan.

“This sucks,” he seethes.

You shrug as you take a seat in front of him. “It could be worse.”

“What?” he asks harshly. “Please, please, please enlighten me on how this could be any worse.”

You keep your gaze on the ground, nervously pulling out the grass as you speak. “Well, I mean, yeah, of course it sucks! like, really bad! and like, yeah, sure, the universe seems very against me right now, but at least I have you?”

"Huh," he says blankly before remaining silent for a moment, and you grimace; you should not have said that. Why the fuck would you say that? “Yeah.”

Your head shoots up to see him already staring at you softly. “Yeah?” you repeat. 

"Yeah, you're right," he says slowly, almost painfully so.

You can't help but break out into a wide grin. “Bakugo? Are you actually starting to care about me?”

He bites back a smile as he rolls his eyes. “Oh fuck off.”

You laugh and lay yourself on the grass. “Lay with me.”

He hums curiously at you yet listens, laying himself right next to you, leaving only a small space between you two. You ignore the strange urge to take his hand in yours.

“Do you think we would’ve been friends in, like, real life, I guess?”

“I never agreed to being your friend,” he points out flatly, ignoring your question. 

“Shut up, Bakugo.”

He snickers. “Probably not though.”

You feign offense, or you feign feigning offense, because that does actually hurt your feelings slightly. “Rude…”

“Shut up. I don't mean it like that,” he reassures. “I mean, you even said it yourself—you don't like people, and I only consider like three people my friends.”

You frown. “I guess you’re right.”

"It's futile to think about that shit now; I doubt we'll ever go back," he mumbles, disappointed.

You ignore how much you’re not disappointed that you might not ever go back anytime soon. “Round five?”

Bakugo nods as he stands up. “Yeah.”

You try to get up, but he stops you. You stare at him curiously.

“If we’re just going to end up lying back down when it restarts, maybe if you’re already lying down, your head won't hurt as much?” he questions thoughtfully. 

You ignore how warm your cheeks feel at his concern and lay back down. “Yeah, maybe.”

Bakugo nods at you before touching the door, and still, both of you end up waking up with a gasp in your positions from a moment ago, but your head doesn't hurt this time.

Bakugo ignores the disappointment swimming in his stomach and turns his gaze to you, who appears shocked. “Did it work?”

You nod slowly before looking at him with a smile. “Yeah, it did! Thanks Bakugo..”

He presses his lips into a tight line as if to stop a smile or ignore how hot his face feels. “Yeah, whatever. Uh, should we go see how far we can make it out?”

You stand up and extend your hand to him, and he quickly accepts it. “Yep!”

The two of you don't even make it ten feet away before being blocked by an invisible wall. The two of you stumble back and stare at each other wide-eyed before both of you immediately start walking out toward the sides, only to be stopped again.

"Oh my fucking god, it boxed us in," Bakugo barks. 

You laugh out nervously. “Um, so, like, is it just gonna keep getting smaller?”

Bakugo's head snaps toward you in concern as your voice shakes, and he notices you beginning to tremble.

"N-not that it's a big deal; I'm not claustrophobic or anything, I'm just curious." You panic, your chest heaving up and down.

Bakugo immediately runs up to you (not that he has to run far) and places his hands on your shoulders, roughly gripping them in some poor attempt to ground you, which works slightly because now you're staring at just him, getting lost in his eyes.

“It’s fine, It's gonna be fucking fine,” he says harshly. “I’ll get us out of here, okay?”

You just stare at him, blinking at him blankly.

He shakes you gently. “Y/n?”

you swallow harshly. 

“Y/n!”

You flinch. “Y-yes?”

"You're going to be fine," he assures, softly smiling at you.

And although you know he can't guarantee that, he can't guarantee that you'll be okay or that he’ll get you guys out of here, you still believe him.

you nod. “Okay. I trust you.”

He nods and returns his hands to his sides before walking back to the door (not that he has to walk far) and sitting down, patting the ground in front of him to invite you to join him. You two sit in comfortable silence, but you can't stand it; you need to talk about something or you'll start spiraling at the thought of the invisible walls closing in on you.

“Do you think we’re supposed to be learning something?” you inquire, pulling your knees into your chest.

He leans back on his palms as he stares at you through furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

“Like a lesson?” you elaborate. "Isn't that why most people get trapped in time loops?"

He gives a half-shrug and thinks for a moment. “I guess? Do you think you’re learning a ‘lesson’?” 

“Maybe?” you say as you place your head on your knees.

Bakugo stares at you, and when you don't say anything, he bobs his head as if to tell you to go on.

“I don't think I like being alone as much as I say I do.”

"Oh?" he says, tilting his head at you with a cocky grin.

You roll your eyes at him through a smile. “Shut up… I'm just saying you’re not so bad; your company is actually enjoyable?”

“Of course it is; It’s me,” he boasts. 

“I regret saying anything.”

“I get it, though.”

“You do?”

He nods. “I mean, I get it through my lesson?”

You bobbed your head at him in the same way he did at you.

"Maybe I don't hate having or making new friends as much as I say I do," he admits quietly.

“Of course you don't; it’s me,” you mock with a shit-eating grin.

He stares at you just smiling fondly, not even a laugh, or a fuck off. No, he's just staring at you as if you're the best thing that's ever happened to him, as if you created the universe—no, scratch that, as if you are the universe. But before you or he can say anything, you hear something rattling, specifically the door handle rattling.

Both of your heads turn toward the door, watching it rattle before looking back at each other and slowly rising in unison.

“Get behind me,” he whispers harshly. 

“I can take care of—“

“Y/n,” he snaps through clenched teeth in an attempt to hush his voice.

You sigh and begrudgingly agree, placing yourself behind him as you two walk toward the door.

He takes a deep breath before whispering, "Round six?"

You nod slowly. “Round six.”

You gasp and sit up quickly, instinctively looking to your side for Bakugo, but you're met by your cat.

He paws at you, and you just stare blankly at him, your chest heaving up and down rapidly. Your cat climbs onto your lap, and you begin to pet him as tears sting your eyes and you take in your surroundings. Though your moment of realizing you're back home is ruined by a phone call. You immediately pick up.

“Bakugo?” you say breathlessly. 

Your coworker clears her throat awkwardly. “uh what? It’s mina, y/n. Where are you? I mean, I know you don't like me, but at least come to work!"

You exhale heavily and rub the tears from your eyes harshly. "I'm so sorry, Mina- I'll be there as soon as I can."

“Oh, uh, it’s fine. Take your time. See you soon!” She says it softly, obviously taken off guard by your apology and lack of hostility.

You hang up quickly and sniffle. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath. How long has it even been? Has any time even passed here? When you look at the date, it is the same as it was before you were thrown into the time loop. It could have been months there, but here? It had been merely seconds, if that. You feel your heart break at the lack of Bakugo here; you had been stuck with him for probably weeks, and now you’re... not. And you’re supposed to just go back to being a productive member of society like nothing happened? Like he didn't just single-handedly change your view on being alone? You sigh and shake your head as you pick your cat off of you, now is not the time to have an existential crisis, you have a job to get to. You set your cat down and practically dash to get dressed, not caring enough about even looking presentable as you grab your things and run out the door, getting to your job in record time.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Mina is surprised to see you almost break through the door. “I told you to take your time,” she says with a frown.

You shake your head and bend over as you catch your breath. “No, it's okay,” you say through ragged breaths.

She just stares at you silently until you calm down and approach her behind the counter. “I'm sorry,” you say once you've reached her.

She laughs. "It's fine; being late isn't such a big deal."

You frown; god, she's really gonna make you say it, isn’t she? “No, I mean, I'm sorry about, uh, always being an asshole towards you and stuff,” you start mumbling toward the end, of course you mean it but you still find it quite embarrasing. 

“Oh! Thank you? Um… Did something happen?”

You let out a breathy laugh that almost sounds sad, if that's even possible, and if it isn't, you're making it so. “Uh, yeah, you could say that.”

Mina notices how your demeanor has wilted and places a comforting hand on your shoulder while giving you a small smile.

You return her smile before sighing. "I'm gonna go put my things in the back."

While in the back, you hear the shop bell ring, indicating that a customer is approaching, so you hurry and put your belongings away to assist Mina. Once you're back out there, you don't notice how the customer is waiting by the counter, where you would hand them their coffee. Your main focus is just on making the drink as Mina hands you the cup with what they want written on it. You make quick work of it as Mina starts taking other orders from people beginning to walk in, and in record time you finish the drink, walking to the side of the counter where people pick up coffees. You turn the cup around to look for a name and feel your heart drop when you see it.

Your brow furrows as you mumble, "Bakugo?"

When he hears your voice, Bakugo's head snaps up from his phone, and he doesn't even try to hide the smile that has now appeared on his face. “Y/n?”

"Holy shit!" you exclaim excitedly as you lose your grip on his drink and it splatters everywhere, Bakugo laughing at how half of it is now on your clothes and you can't help but laugh along with him.

“You plan on remaking my drink?”

You nod quickly and hurriedly speak, “Yes! but, um, can you stay after?”

He smirks. “What, was our time together not enough for you?”

You roll your eyes playfully at him. “If I agree, will you stay?”

"Maybe."

You sigh. "Yes Bakugo, our time together wasn't enough for me."

Bakugo chuckles softly. 

“Yeah Y/n, I’ll stay.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[defectivevillain]

a heavenly, hellish housemate

pairing: Adam/Reader

The reader’s race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.***

summary: “If you’re my guardian angel, then why are you so…?” you break off. “Devilishly handsome?” The angel winks. “I was going to say ‘sleazy,’” you frown. “Okay, that’s not the right way to say ‘Wow, thank you so much for saving my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Adam, you’re so sexy and badass.'” He scoffs.

After Adam acts up yet again, Sera decides to assign him guardian angel duty. Adam is pissed, but he goes along with it and starts to look out for you: the human he’s tasked with protecting. He has no intention of ever actually meeting you, but when he saves you from death, he finds himself stuck on Earth with you.

warnings: near-death experiences, emotional manipulation, suggestive humor

author's notes: ***The reader is referred to as “dude,” and “bitch” (you can thank adam for that, lmao) but i typically use those terms with the intent of them being gender-neutral… The reader also uses cologne (but, again, smelling nice isn’t gender-specific, i don’t think…)

This fic won’t be canon compliant. Also, some of the story itself is going to be underdeveloped—in the sense that I still want this to be a “oneshot,” not a multi-chapter fic. Some big-scale things like how Adam gets to Earth and how he will return to Heaven are overlooked.

anyways, onto the fun stuff:

It’s been a long day, you think to yourself as you walk down the sidewalk. Work wasn’t particularly eventful today, but you’re still rather exhausted. You’re contemplating what you’ll fix for dinner when you see a car approaching out of the corner of your eye. You blink and your heart races as you realize it’s veering off the road and heading right towards you. It’s going far too fast and suddenly you’re frozen, trapped as the car speeds towards the sidewalk and heads straight for you in painful slow-motion. At the last possible moment, you’re shoved to the side with unnatural momentum. You fall to the ground and the car crashes into the wall—right about where you had been walking mere moments ago. You stare at it in disbelief. 

You have scrapes on your knees and you get the feeling you’ll have bruises on your elbows and arms, but otherwise, you’re unharmed. It’s a miracle—there’s no other way to explain it. By all means, you should have died in that car crash. You weren’t able to move in time… until that weird sensation, as if someone unseen had just shoved you out of the way. 

“Don’t get paid enough for this shit,” someone nearby mutters. You’re about to get up when a large shadow overtakes your vision. You look up to find a figure cloaked in white staring down at you; after a second look, you realize that he’s wearing a mask over his face. He’s looking down at you with a strange combination of interest and scrutiny.

“…Hello?” You choke out, once you manage to accept just what you’re seeing. This guy—whoever he is—is ridiculously tall and looks entirely unfamiliar. In fact, he doesn’t look human at all—he has a bright halo over his head and wings extending from his shoulders.

He stares at you in disbelief when he notices that you’re looking back at him. “You can see me?” He asks, clearly surprised. “What the fuck?!” 

“Are you my guardian angel or something?” You ask, unable to hide your suspicion. You never thought guardian angels were even real; and, even if you were to think about it, you would expect a “guardian angel” to be clothed in blinding white. This guy has grey horns, golden wings, and a positively dangerous smirk. He does have that white halo, though… 

“Ugh, fucking fine,” the guy scoffs, clearly annoyed. You’re not quite sure how he’s sick of this conversation already, when it hasn’t been more than a few moments. “Yes, I am. You’re welcome, baby.” 

“Okay,” you remark, still a little unconvinced. Admittedly, the pet-name throws you for a loop—especially when you realize the guy is rather attractive, with shaggy, dusky brown hair and gleaming golden eyes. Averting your eyes, you take a look around you, only to find that everyone seems too preoccupied with the car crash to notice you talking to this strange “angel”—if that’s really what he is. Or, even more frightening… you may be the only one able to see him. You try to collect your thoughts and one question immediately comes to mind. “If you’re my guardian angel, then why are you so…?” You trail off. 

“Devilishly handsome?” He winks. 

“I was going to say ‘sleazy,’” you frown. 

The guy crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, that’s not the right way to say ‘ wow, Adam, thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re so sexy and badass.’” 

You stare at him in disbelief for a few moments, before deciding to push yourself to your feet. Even when you’re standing in front of him, the height difference between you both is stark. You squint at him for a second. “Are you sure you’re an angel?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. The guy seems a little too profane to be from Heaven. But, who knows? 

“Damn right,” the guy asserts confidently, blowing your assumptions right out of the water. “I’m the angel. Adam’s the name, pulling bitches is the game.” 

While you want to focus on that horrid last part of his statement, your attention is captured by his name: Adam. Is he the first human—that Adam? “You’re the Adam?” You question. “Like, Adam and Eve?”

The smug grin on the angel’s face promptly vanishes. “Ugh, this was going so well,” Adam groans raspily. “Don’t fucking mention my ex-wife, dude. She’s a real piece of work.”

“If you say so,” you acquiesce. This entire conversation is giving you whiplash. You wonder just how you got yourself into this situation. And while you’re grateful that this guy saved you, you hadn’t expected to be stuck in an interaction with him. You really just want to go home—this day has been a nightmare, and you want nothing more than to jump into bed and sleep. 

“I do say so,” he preens. Wow, this guy’s ego is extremely inflated. You’re not sure you’ve ever met someone so cocky and arrogant before. 

“Well… Thanks for saving my life, I guess?” You remark uneasily, taking a casual half-step backwards and hoping he doesn’t notice. You’ve been patiently waiting for the conversation to end, but somehow it’s still going—and you’re nearly at the point of just walking away and ignoring him. 

“You’re fucking welcome, shrimp,” Adam responds. You ignore the dig. The guy is unnaturally tall—far surpassing the height of even the tallest humans. He must be eight or nine feet tall, at least. 

“Well, I have to get home, so…” You give an awkward wave and turn to walk away. You don’t make it for more than a few steps before you notice a presence behind you. Adam is following you, you realize with dread. “Um, what are you doing?” You ask. 

“Following you, dipshit,” he scoffs, as if the question is stupid. “This has never happened before. I don’t know how to get back up to Heaven yet.”

“Great.” You groan, resolving yourself to a chaotic day. 

Why am I doing this again? You ask yourself as you stare at the angel walking around your apartment. You don’t realize that you utter that question aloud until you hear Adam speak. “Because you’re nice and hot and smart and totally my type?” 

“Nice try,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and resolutely pretending that his remark doesn’t make your heart race. He’s the type of person to flirt with anyone—hell, anything —that has a pulse. “Flattery won’t get you very far.” 

“It’s true, though” Adam insists confidently, “And you can take my word for it, ‘cause there are some real nasty bastards up in Heaven.” You watch as he continues to inspect your apartment, opening your cabinets and drawers and ultimately having zero respect for your privacy. You’re suddenly immensely grateful that you don’t have much to hide—your apartment is pretty ordinary-looking. 

“So… when do you go back?” You not-so-subtly ask, as he continues looking around without permission. 

“Trying to kick me out?” He grins, seeing through your rather pathetic attempt to hide your irritation. Adam shuts the drawer he was searching through and shrugs. “Not sure. I’ve never been to the human realm before; this shit blows.” He punctuates the statement with a heavy eye-roll. 

“That’s not helpful,” you frown concernedly. It may be no big deal for him—he has all the time in the world to return to Heaven, considering he’s already in the afterlife. But you have a life, a job, and things to do. You don’t have the time or energy (or patience) to stumble through reorganizing your entire life just to fit an angel in it. 

“I don’t fucking know!” He practically screeches, a sudden switch into extreme defensiveness. Adam must notice you watching him, because he turns around and meets your gaze. “For once. Maybe even the first time. But I know everything else, so don’t get used to it.” He’s quick to add. You’re starting to worry that your eyes will get stuck in the back of your head—from how much you’ve been rolling your eyes at his inane comments. 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass?” You mutter darkly. 

“Without lubrication, yeah.” You don’t bother dignifying that comment with a response. You instead shake your head relentingly and tell him you have a pullout bed on the couch, to which he complains incessantly before you offer sleeping on the street as an alternative. 

Still processing everything that happened, you tell Adam you need to be alone and lock yourself in your room. Just a few hours ago, you were living your life as normal. Your guardian angel saved your life, but now he’s living here with you. You don’t remember signing up for any of this. You rub a hand over your face and try to fight off the exhaustion that has been setting in since you left work. 

Eventually, it’s late enough for you to go to bed—and you fall asleep hoping that you’ll wake tomorrow morning to an empty apartment, blissfully free of a certain angel. 

But the universe is not so merciful, and you see Adam sleeping on the couch when you walk out of your room and towards the kitchen. You try to move quietly—so as to not disturb him—but he must be a light sleeper, because suddenly he’s up on his feet and chastising you for being too loud. You head to work already feeling tired, which doesn’t bode well for the rest of your day. 

The longer Adam stays at your apartment, the more you learn about him. For example, you learn that Adam is an incessant flirt (although that was clear from the first few moments you met). You also learn that he enjoys scaring the absolute shit out of you. Sometimes, you’ll get home from work and find yourself in an empty apartment. You’ll forget that you’re housing a goliath of a “guardian angel,” until said angel seeps out of the shadows and screams at you, cackling maniacally as you regain your breath. 

Adam isn’t a great roommate, either—he’s messy, doesn’t have very many boundaries, and has no qualms about invading your personal space. He has a ton of annoying habits.  Even so, you suppose it’s not the worst situation you could find yourself in. Plus, as much as you hate to admit it, it’s kind of nice to have company when you get home from a particularly long day at work. You can vent to him about some dumbass you work with and he won’t hesitate to insult them with you. 

Although… Adam doesn’t pay you. He doesn’t have any human money. You’re not even sure if Heaven has currency, and you keep forgetting to ask. All you know is that he’s living here for free—practically mooching off of you. And, for the first few weeks, it really does feel like he’s taking advantage of your kindness—as he eats all of your groceries, never cleans up after himself, constantly plays your Nintendo Switch without asking you for permission… The list goes on. 

After more than three weeks of that rather grating behavior, you sit him down at the table in the dining room and try to establish some ground rules. If he is going to continue staying with you, he has to: (1) clean up after himself, which includes everything from washing the clothes you bought for him at the thrift store to doing his dishes; (2) write what he wants on the grocery list, so you won’t come home to an empty fridge and pantry; (3) use his own separate account for your Switch, which you so graciously made for him; and (4) limit how many times he scares you to a few times per week. 

You think these demands are perfectly reasonable, but judging from the way he stares at you for a moment before laughing in your face, Adam has never respected someone else’s rules. You don’t break eye contact with him, despite wanting nothing more than to look away from his increasingly intimidating gaze. Eventually, Adam must sense that you’re not budging on these points, because he mutters something about bossy landlords—to which you snarkily remind him that landlords have paying tenants, and that he is living under your roof for free. He shuts up after that. 

After that conversation, things get better. Slowly but surely, Adam begins to adjust his behavior to be moderately less annoying. You get the feeling that being annoying is one of his core personality traits, but at the very least you’ve prevented that from affecting your lifestyle. Unsurprisingly, the angel doesn’t follow all of the rules perfectly. Ironically, it seems that Rule No. 4—limiting how often he scares the life out of you—is the most difficult one for him to follow. The fucker is constantly appearing behind you and ripping the breath from your chest. But, you respect that Adam is trying, and the two of you gradually learn to live with one another. 

But things come to an unfortunate boiling point one evening as you’re getting ready to go out for dinner. You’ve attempted to tame your hair into something slightly more styled than normal and you’ve used your rather pricey cologne [a miniscule amount of it, admittedly]. You have your keys, your pepper spray in case your date goes awry, and your phone. You’re inspecting your closet in an attempt to decide on an outfit when you hear Adam enter the room. 

You turn around to face him, realizing that he looks skeptical as his gaze inspects your form. “Where the hell are you going?” He asks, evidently noticing that you’re preparing to leave. You suppose it is rather unusual for you to be leaving home in the evening like this—typically, once you leave work, you stay home for the rest of the night. 

“I’m going on a date,” you respond, picking out a shirt and pants and folding them over your arm. 

“A date?” Adam scoffs. “Your ugly ass? Please.”

You don’t bother acknowledging that remark, instead moving to the bathroom. You change and brush your teeth, before walking back out to your room. You’ll just pretend that your giant angelic roommate—the one who still doesn’t pay rent, by the way—isn’t here. Unfortunately, you don’t get very far, because Adam continues speaking the moment you exit the bathroom. 

“Hey, there isn’t-” Adam begins, turning around to face you. Whatever he means to say fades to obscurity as he stares at you. For a painful moment, the two of you are trapped in a tense silence. Just as it grows to be unbearable, Adam scoffs. “This is for him? Fucking Tom?” Wait… How does he know your date’s name? You squint at him suspiciously, before realizing that he’s holding your phone and evidently looking through your messages. 

“Hey, give me that-” You say with wide eyes, reaching for your phone. 

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”Adam recites, scrolling through the messages from the guy you’re going on a date with. There’s a cruel amusement gleaming in his eyes. “There’s no fucking way.” He cackles. 

You stare at him in shocked silence, forced to listen as he rips apart this guy you haven’t even met yet. “Are you done yet?” You eventually ask, when it seems like he’s losing steam. “I have to go, give me that-” You hiss, annoyed and frustrated. His grip is inhumanly tight as he clutches your phone; you have no idea how he hasn’t broken it yet. 

“No way, sweetheart,” he grins, a malicious and cruel smile. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years ,” he says, continuing to scroll through your conversation, “Besides, why are you meeting with this guy if you don’t even know him in the first place?”

That’s the whole point of the date: to get to know Tom. You try to take a deep breath and remain calm. “You’re my ‘guardian angel,’ not my mother,” you feel the need to say, when his eye contact is growing a bit too intense and prolonged. 

“Wow, strange, that doesn’t sound like gratitude,” Adam frowns, tapping a finger against his chin. 

You grit your teeth. Unless you’re able to sneak around this nine-foot fucking demon looming in the doorway—because really, he’s not acting like much of an angel right now—you’re going to miss your date. You try to make a grab for your phone one more time, but Adam’s grip remains steady. There’s no way you’re getting it back, judging from both his immensely strong grasp and the determined smirk on his face. 

Defeat sets in, followed by prickling embarrassment and fury. “You know what?” You say, your voice cracking in your frustration. “Fine. Fine. You win. Okay?” You leave your room and head out to the living room, desperate for some privacy. Adam either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because he follows behind you. You feel tears falling down your face before you can stop them. You feel so helpless. This guy swooped into your life and fucked everything up, just for his own amusement. 

“Are you crying because of that loser?” Adam asks, surprise coloring his voice. 

“I’m crying because of you!” You seethe, glaring at him. You wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve. “You ruined my night. And I genuinely wanted to get to know Tom, but you’ve fucked that up too!” This is like an emotionally manipulative relationship, you think to yourself, but without the relationship. So really, it’s just emotionally manipulative. You don’t give Adam a chance to defend himself, instead pushing past him and going back into your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

You flop onto your bed and curl onto your side, unable to stop the tears sliding down your cheeks. You know it’s a somewhat insignificant thing to be upset about, but you can’t help it. The way Adam just completely decimated your plans, with all the confidence of someone who has never once been questioned, someone who has always been looked up to and venerated and-

You huff and push yourself back up to a sitting position, grabbing the nearby tissue box and blowing your nose. You’re still furious with Adam, of course, but you’d rather just not acknowledge him right now. Even the mere thought of him now is enough to send new tears slipping down your cheeks. 

You lie awake a bit longer than usual that night, feeling unspeakably restless. Frustrated, you stare up at the ceiling and try to think about something other than the horrible evening you just had. Eventually, you drift off into sleep—albeit with dry eyes and anger still prickling at your core. 

Against all odds, you manage to have a relatively restful sleep, and you wake to the smell of pancakes wafting through your apartment. That immediately concerns you, and you get out of bed with fear drumming in your chest. Did you leave the stove on? Is  something burning? You stumble out to the kitchen, only to find Adam standing with his back to you, looking down at a griddle that you don’t remember purchasing. 

“Adam?” You ask, blinking traces of sleep from your eyes. Adam stiffens and turns around, an uncharacteristically weak smile flickering on his face before it’s replaced with his trademark wide grin. 

“Hey,” he remarks, turning around to flip a few pancakes. When Adam turns back around to look at you, you realize that the apron he’s wearing says Kiss the Cook. You feel a disbelieving laugh crawl out of your throat before you can stop it. 

“Where’d you get that apron?” You ask, knowing damn well you don’t own an apron like that. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he grins, which naturally just worries you more. You take a deep breath and go back to your room to change. When you return to the kitchen, there’s a stack of pancakes on the counter—evidently for you. You grab a few pancakes, a plate, and utensils, before settling at the table and beginning to eat. You keep yourself occupied throughout the meal with Youtube videos, but you’re still unable to avoid the tension settling in the air. 

When you finish eating, you do your dishes before thanking Adam for the meal. Before you can retreat back to the solitude of your room, Adam takes a deep breath as if preparing himself to speak. 

“So…” He starts, “This is hard for me to say………” His voice is almost entirely devoid of emotion. Before you can think about that any longer, he continues speaking. Is he about to apologize? Somehow, you doubt it. “I’m not sorry for what I did.” And there it is. You’re not surprised; you’re just disappointed. You immediately move to leave and his eyes widen. “Wait. No, that’s- Hey, I’m trying to apologize here!”

“Apologizing typically starts with ‘I’m sorry,’” you say, glaring at him. 

“Fine,” Adam says with an eye-roll, “I didn’t want you going on that date. Okay?”

“Why?” You ask. You deserve to know the rationality behind his actions—if there even was any. The angel’s eyes are gleaming (with what emotion, you’re not quite sure).

“I’m your guardian angel,” Adam reminds you, “I’m supposed to protect you from harm.” That’s a load of bullshit. You turn around again, fully intent on barricading yourself in your room and never coming out. “Hey, hey, hey-!” He sputters. Adam takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Damn it! Fine. I didn’t want you to go on that date because you’re out of his league.”

That statement only confuses you further. Tom was an attractive guy, and he seemed nice. Why would you be out of his league? “Then who’s in my league?” You sputter, feeling extremely lost. “You?” You scoff. 

“Yes!” He exclaims with so much vehemence that it startles you. “I mean, no! Fuck, why is this so difficult? Okay. Listen… I rescheduled your date with Tom. You’re gonna meet with him today, and wear that sexy ass outfit you had on yesterday.”

“Really?” You ask, still skeptical. You want to believe the angel, but you can’t help but think of his actions last night—the unflappable determination on his face as he wrecked your plans for the night. Adam got some sort of thrill out of ruining your night, and that still concerns you. 

“Really,” the angel assures you, tossing you your phone. You completely forgot he had it. You remember trying to wrench it out of his grip; when you stormed off to your room, he must’ve still had it. “Check your messages.” You obey and open the text conversation. 

Yesterday, 2:45 p.m. Tom: Looking forward to it.  Yesterday, 4:42 p.m. You: Hey, I hate to do this, but do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow? My roommate got sick and I need to look after him. Tom: Sure thing. Same time? You: Sounds good. 

“Oh,” you remark aloud, lost for words. 

“So go on your date and have fun,” Adam continues. “With- with Tom.” The latter statement is spoken with a decent amount of venom, and Adam averts his eyes with a surprisingly irritated expression on his face. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you busy yourself with preparing for the date, equal parts anticipation and something frighteningly similar to appreciation warring in your chest. You shouldn’t be holding any sort of appreciation for Adam’s actions—he was just righting his own mistake. Even so… You sigh and push aside any thoughts of Adam, instead busying yourself with preparing. When you’re finally ready, you walk out of your room and head for the side table—where your pepper spray, phone, and keys still remain from the night before. 

You glance around the space, finding Adam sitting in front of the television and playing video games. “I’m heading out,” you decide to tell him. 

“Have fun,” the angel says, not bothering to look away from his game. You take a deep breath and leave your apartment, locking your door behind you. Your date is waiting outside, supposedly.

The night passes by frighteningly fast; two hours later, you’re unlocking your front door, shutting it behind you, and trudging into your apartment with severely dampened spirits. You’re unsurprised to find Adam still playing games on your Nintendo Switch. His back is turned and you feel your throat burning. “Hey,” he says, focused on the game. “How’d it go?”

“You called it,” you murmur frustratedly. “You were right. I should’ve listened.” Your eyes are burning now too. Your voice sounds foreign to your ears. 

It evidently takes Adam a moment to process what you just said, but you immediately notice the moment he comprehends it. The room falls eerily silent and you watch the television screen for a moment. (Meanwhile, Adam is staring ahead in complete shock, surprised as to how someone could have fumbled the bag so badly.) Adam then turns around, his game entirely abandoned. “What did that bastard do?” He hisses. “God damn it, I’m going to murder him. He’s going straight to Hell!”

“It’s- I don’t know,” you choke out, placing your hands on the back of the couch. Tears are falling down your face now, despite your best attempts to keep them in. “Maybe it’s my fault.” You murmur.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely not,” Adam declares with an unreasonable amount of confidence. “You’re the closest fuckin’ thing to perfection; there’s no way in Heaven or Hell that it was your fault.” You want to believe him, but you don’t. You can’t—not after how badly the night went. 

You’re still reeling, so you decide to sit down next to Adam on the couch. For a long moment, the two of you stare ahead silently as the Animal Crossing: New Horizons music plays in the background. Eventually, Adam continues playing and you watch as he controls a purple-skinned avatar with golden eyes, black wings, and a white halo. 

Sharing the silence with Adam is nice, but you soon find it more and more difficult to stay awake through it. You’re growing tired—your exhaustion from earlier catching up to you—and your eyelids are starting to sting from fatigue. You’re leaning back against the couch cushions, dangerously close to leaning on Adam’s shoulder. Your limbs feel as heavy as bricks and within moments, you’re surrendering to the urge to succumb to the darkness and the magnetic sensation pulling you to rest your head on the angel’s shoulder. 

The next morning you wake up in your bed, despite having no recollection of walking back to your room. That particular mystery quickly fades to the back of your mind once you arrive at work, however. The day seems to drag, but finally, after a seemingly infinite amount of time, you finish your work and can go home to relax. 

“Hey,” you say as you enter your apartment after work, surprised to find the living room empty. Typically, you’d see Adam watching television at this time. “Adam?” You ask. There’s no response. You shrug off your jacket and hang it on your coat rack, before walking through the living room and into the dining room. 

To your surprise, you find your table candlelit, with boxes of takeout from your favorite restaurant scattered around its surface. “Hey, you’re back.” Adam says. Despite the fact that he probably didn’t mean to scare you, the sudden reveal of his presence is enough to send your heart racing—if only for a brief moment. You still can’t quite believe what you’re seeing; noticing your confusion, Adam continues—sounding almost apprehensive. “I thought… you deserve a nice dinner, since your date didn’t go well.” He breaks off for a moment, a truly murderous expression on his face. Adam shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts, before motioning to the takeout boxes and looking at you expectantly. “Did I get your order right?” You squint at the boxes and nod; he grins. “Hell yeah! Am I the fucking best or what?”

You smile and shake your head in disbelief. You move to sit down, but Adam tugs you back. “Hey, hey, not so fast,” he admonishes you, before placing a hand on the chair and pulling it out for you. You roll your eyes fondly and sit down at the proffered seat. Moments later, Adam takes a seat across from you. The two of you quickly dig into your food and you fall into idle conversation about your day. 

When you’re both finished eating, Adam clears his throat purposefully. “So,” he starts, “I know I was kind of a dick, but you should go on an actual date with me.” He sounds forceful, but you’re pretty sure he’s just uncertain. 

“Sure,” you agree rather easily. Despite all you’ve been through—all the missteps Adam has made, especially when you were trying to date other people—you like the thought of being in a relationship with him. Adam is frighteningly easy to be around, and underneath that prickly, jerkish exterior is a person who genuinely cares about you. At least, that’s what you hope.  

“Oh hell yeah!” He fist-pumps, making you chuckle. “You’re about to get wined and dined, bitch. Get ready for a four-course meal—I’ll be the perfect fucking gentleman. Chivalry and all that shit.”

“You do realize chivalry has been dead for, like, centuries,” you say before you can stop yourself. 

Adam groans dramatically. “You know what I fucking mean,” he chastises you. And, surprisingly, you think you actually do know what he means. He wasn’t referring to chivalry in the antiquated sense, but more in the sense that every person deserves to be treated nicely. That’s a surprisingly decent perspective, coming from him of all people. “I’m going to be so fucking nice, you’re going to be falling at my feet.” You both know that is definitely not going to happen. You don’t let Adam always have his way—you don’t let him step all over you. And, maybe, that’s one of the reasons he likes you. Maybe, just maybe, he needs someone who is just as independent and stubborn as he is. 

You find yourself looking forward to learning more about this mysterious guardian angel of yours.

endnotes: oh my god, they were roommates.

y'all, i can't believe i wrote 5k words for this bastard.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[taahko]

I just found your blog today can you please explain or point out a post that explains the MASH timeloop thing? I love the show but I've never heard anyone talk abt it that way before

oh yay hurray ive been waiting for an excuse to talk about this lmao sorry this is long

ok so basically maeve (my gf) and i started watching mash for the first time about a month ago and we started joking about it being like the characters were stuck in a time loop mostly because the same basic episode format is repeated over and over, because it's a sitcom from the 70s and the episodes arent meant to be watched en masse where you can start noticing all the little repetitions and plot holes and inconsistencies that naturally occur in longform tv

but then i started to pay attention to the dates being mentioned in the show - famously the korean war never technically ended, but american troops were involved in active on the ground fighting between 1950 and 1953, so the entire 11 seasons of mash have to be squeezed into that three year period. with 251 episodes occurring within 1,129 days, that gives every episode about 4.5 days of real time. so it works right? no time loop right? well wait a sec

for the first 5 seasons or so of mash they give very consistent dates about when things are happening. for example, bj arrives in korea in september of 1952, at the start of season 4. colonel potter arrives about a week after him, and talks about how he has 18 months left before his retirement. that gives us about 7 months for the shows final 7 seasons to take place in, meaning that by the episode 'point of view' in season 7 we should be around december of 1952. in that episode the pov character starts writing a letter home and in the corner he writes the date:

september of 1951. ok, could be that this episode isn't meant to take place in the regular timeline of the season - maybe for some reason its just like, a random flashback episode. but bj, charles, and potter are all present, even though none of them got to korea until 1952. now i KNOW that this is not like, the True Hidden Secret Lore of MASH, this is the writers realizing they were running out of road and turning back the clock a bit to accommodate for how long the show was running on. but play in my time loop space with me please

more talking points:

consistent jokes about time zones and how difficult it is to call the states because "our today is their yesterday but if you call them now it might not reach them until our tomorrow and by that point our yesterday will be their today"

hawkeye's increasing mania over the seasons and his conviction that the war will never end, comparing the camp to dante's inferno multiple times. maeve once pointed out that the closer hawkeye comes to realizing that he's trapped in a time loop the closer he gets to being institutionalized - and what does the series finale cold open onto ? hawkeye in a mental institution. the only way out is to lose yourself etc. sidenote frank also escaped the time loop by going insane and getting institutionalized

in a war for all seasons bj potter and charles are all present at the 1951 new years party as well as the 1952 new years party

there are three christmas episodes, two of which bj is present for even though he should only have spent one christmas in korea

details of people's families and lives shift around - sometimes potter's got multiple grandchildren, sometimes he only has one, sometimes its a girl, sometimes its a boy, sometimes she's 5, sometimes he's 2

we're not the first people to talk about this either, here's a good video compilation posted a couple yrs ago of time loop moments

overall ive been using the time loop thesis to add another layer to my mash viewing experience. it increases the already present sense of constant dread, anger, frustration, and disgust with their situation that the characters feel, plus it feels like a very poignant take on the united states' constant warmongering and violent existence. it really never ends, it just goes on an on. the future's been canceled by the war department- we're just gonna replay the past.

[llilyrose]

Do you have fic recommendations 👉👈

Of course!

I would recommend my own fic, but... it's still in the works, unfortunately. No mal du pays content for the weak and elderly.

did you really think i wouldn't recommend ghostlight, of all things? especially with my current drawing series, obviously it's good!

It's a postgame fic centered on loop's and siffrin's (mostly loop's) healing processes post-game, where loop has to learn how to be human again. It's 24 chapters long, about 84k words, has an ongoing sequel (though it's on hiatus), and has a tumblr account you can interact with! @ghostlightfic

here are some other postgame fic recommendations:

Bloom And if I were not myself, would this be easier?

@livesworthlivingau Is a postgame au where Siffrin lives on for 30 years after the loops only to loop back when Odile dies in the future. This fic has a dual chapter system, one set of chapters that focuses on Loop and one set of chapters that focuses on Siffrin. This distinction becomes crucial later on. It also, like ghostlight, has a discord to join :3

I haven't read chokehold of a broken family bond myself, but I've heard wonderful things about it from everyone around me!!!! It's a LONG, ongoing AU fic that I'm sure someone else can provide a synopsis for ;)

Follow the Stars Back Home is another fic I have yet to read, but got recommended and decided to check out. It's postgame and focuses more on Siffrin's Island trauma than their Looping trauma, a nicher aspect people don't explore often.

speaking of aus:

Try It Again, Cheater by @moonstandardtime sends Loop back to their original timeline after breaking free from Siffrin's loops. They and their family have to adjust to this drastic Change and suffer the consequences of a timeline they could never remember.

To Extend our Reach to the Stars Above is a Villain Siffrin au where they meet the King before the party! It's one of only a few fics that explore this concept, all of which are so so interesting to me. Check it out!

Timeloop Support Group by @pixxyofice is a fic about therapy done from the pov of Siffrin and focuses on timeloop trauma. The twist? The people they're stuck with are au versions of their friends who got trapped in time loops themselves!

featured aus:

In Tales and Time (Odile) by @/tealgoat In Cycles and Cessation (Mira) by @/the-bitter-ocean Of Stitches in Sequence by @/basilpaste (which also has two fics on ao3, but i recommend viewing the au on everyone's profiles instead)

-- Oh, hey, Basilpaste!!! They have more bangers up their sleeve!!!! Slay the Savior is a Slay The Princess fusion au with ISAT that features Isabeau as the protagonist and Siffrin as the princess. Not only is the writing excellent but he thought up new designs for each siffrin on each path!!! Not to mention thinking up new paths, too! It's on hiatus, though.

The Dormont Archives are another Basil product, infusing ISAT into The Magnus Archives universe!! Like STS it's done in the style of the media and all of the statements are absurdly creative. It's ongoing with (currently only) 14 chapters, god knows how many planned for the future. (ALSO IT APPARENTLY HAS A DISCORD. I DIDN'T KNOW AABOUT THAT WHILE WRITING IT. go check out basil they put so much effort into this stuff dude 😭)

I've read SO MANY isat fanfics but the majority of them never got bookmarked. Practically all of the ones on ao3 are a good read!!! It's hard to keep track!!! If i missed any of your favorites fanfics on any website, please tell me please. if I've read it it'll get added to the list.

[ronearoundblindly]

Steve Rogers, number 4, a kiss where it hurts (imagine him making it stop hurting) xxx

*no pairing listed but could work in Fools Rush In, It Had To Be You, Autumn Is Healing, Threadbare, or as a stand alone. While those series do specify female readers, this is written gender neutral. He calls you 'sweetheart' one time.

A Dark Day and A Bright Night, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024

Warning only for description of a bad mental health time. (I know not everyone experiences this in the same way, but I tried to cover the gist and focus on Steve's comfort of you.) Otherwise, just sweet, caring fluff! WC 1781

There are invisible barriers everywhere, and they stop no one but you.

No one else can hear the muddled whispers of what else you could have done, what more you should have accomplished, how disappointing it is that anything took so long.

You can’t do any better. You can’t go any farther. There’s a line in the sand no one can see. Sometimes, no one can see you.

Nothing matches up. Work fast-forwards around you in chaos while you slog through, treading water with all the energy of someone who has been out at sea alone for days and days. You grow so tired.

There are moments you power through, mind racing to gain lost ground on an endless, looped track. You grow so tired, and it’s never just one thing. It’s water and sand and nothing all at once, vast forces beyond your control.

What else? What more? Why so long?

There are barriers no one else can see, and it’s not their fault because it doesn’t match up. We move through life at different paces. We experience different struggles. We are stopped by different forces.

“How was work?” Steve asks, a chipper smile on his face as he places dinner in front of you.

“Fine.” There are no other words.

“Really? Seems the project is right on schedule, thanks to you.”

You see him pause before he takes his first bite, and rush to pick up your fork, knowing it’s best to participate, knowing the barriers may be invisible but effort is not.

He eats his mouthful, and you stare.

Dinner isn’t a line in the sand, but it feels like one, another interaction you’ll be disappointing in, another fear you can’t explain.

“Not my best work, but it got done,” you manage, mechanically feeding yourself, showing the effort, making a show of the effort. “How was your day?”

It’s a flat question. The response is muddled by water and wind and doubt.

Why can’t you focus? Why can’t you do better for him? Why does he stay?

Steve can’t see any of it. He can’t get to you because there’s no one place you’re trapped in.

You do the dishes. You watch TV. You start your bedtime ritual, and you’ve participated as little—and as much—as possible because treading water is lonely. You grow so tired.

Tomorrow could be better. You can do better tomorrow. It’ll take effort.

Tomorrow you’ll work harder and you’ll be less afraid. But that’s what you thought the last time you were stuck. That’s what you think each time you find a line in the sand.

You stare at your reflection, still treading, still scared, still misaligned.

“Did you hear me?” Steve loosely holds you with his palm on your hip. Standing behind you, face sullen in the mirror, he asks where you’re hurting.

To Steve, there has to be a solution. Each mission must have a goal.

You spit, rinse, and put your toothbrush in the holder.

“Just tired.” That’s the sand he cannot see.

“Seems like more than ‘just tired,’” he huffs, unsatisfied, and turns you toward him. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing you can help with.” That’s the water he cannot navigate.

You’re on your own.

He smirks humorlessly. “That’s never stopped me before.”

But you don’t have the words. All that comes out is “my head.”

“Headache?” He reaches for the medicine cabinet. “You need some—“

You shake your physically fine skull. “No. It’s not a headache.”

Steve’s face…changes in a way you’ve never seen before. You expected confusion, perhaps pity, but this is something all-together reminiscent. His eyes dart around the bathroom like he’s taking inventory, and for the first time today you aren’t the most distracted person in the room.

Then he returns to you.

“I think I’d like a nice bath. Will you join me?”

He sets it all up, using the best smelling bubbles, setting out the softest towels, and inviting you back into the little spa he created by handing you a lovely chocolate.

When you try to refuse because you’ve already brushed your teeth, he replies, “live dangerously,” and pops a bonbon for himself.

Hopefully, it is dark enough for Steve to miss the tears in your eyes.

He lets you settle in the water against him, playing by splashing warmth over the parts not submerged. He kisses your shoulders and neck, the back of your head. Steve keeps himself attached by the lips, breathing you in but feeling so far away. Your mind wanders to nowhere, thinking nothing.

“Feels good—I mean, bett—feels okay, yeah?”

He suds up his hands and washes a bit of you, but your muscles are tight and curled.

You’re tucked into yourself, small as can be.

“Can you try to relax for me, sweetheart? Can you let yourself float?”

The tub works for a guy Steve’s size. There’s a little space but not enough to stretch out completely.

The tension in your body is slow to release. You manage to let your arms, knees, and feet peak through the bubble clouds.

Steve nudges, “and your neck?”

You didn’t realize you were holding it up.

There is infinite space to lay flat in your endless sea. Floating offers a respite, a view of the sky, the same sky blanketing your beach.

Invisible barriers at least spare the scenery.

You and Steve watch the fragrant foam burst for a while. It takes you much longer to truly relax back into Steve. The quiet of the bath drowns you with the noise in your head.

What else? What more? Why so slow?

It’s never just one thing. It is all things, all at once, and nothing at all. All of the elements to survival and understanding are there if you just focus your attention, if you just put in the effort, but you are so tired.

Steve wraps you in his arms to press you deeper into his chest.

“Sometimes my ma would burn dinner,” he starts quietly, voice rough from holding back all his questions you can’t answer, “and we would scramble around, combing the cupboards. We’d make the oddest meals out of bits and bobs. Maybe half of it, we should’a never touched, but we did what we had to. Ya know what? Those were some of the best times. We did the best we could with what we had—sometimes less—and that’s what made her so amazing. On what she probably considered her worst days,” Steve kisses behind your ear, “I admired her the most. Formed some of the best memories.”

“Let me guess. Because she smiled the whole way through?”

“Nah,” he muses, chuckling enough to shake you in the water, “she threw a pan once. Loosened the door of the stove she slammed it shut so hard. She cried usually until we were sat down eating. Always tried to give me the most food because I was so small… 

“I made it a game. I only took a bite if she did. Win-win.” 

He stays quiet for a beat, assured you’re hearing him.

“You’re not ruining anything by crying,” he says solidly, almost loud in the confines of the bathroom. “Good things can still happen. You still did good today.”

He continues. He details little things he admires about you; how hard you work for yourself, for him, he notices all that. He wants you to see what he sees.

There’s no barrier stopping him.

The water turns tepid, and Steve gets out first to ready a towel for you. There’s a difference between him treating you like a china doll and his doll. His doll is not breakable. He isn’t gentle because you are fragile; he does it to preserve you for the next day, and the next. Steve refuses to place any more burden on you than already falls.

He’s right there, strong, noble, and determined with forces working against him.

He’s scared and he doesn’t understand. He can’t fight. He has to scramble to catch up, to change plans, to make a meal out of nothing, to turn nothing into something. He doesn’t understand why he’s in a different sea, or why he can’t get to you standing on the same damn beach. His hand is right there on the barrier, but his shouts are muddled.

It’s not fair, and it never will be.

He physically lifts you up, wrapped in a plush bath sheet, his hug strong enough to thump against that clear wall that springs from your line in the sand.

That’s when you realize the barrier isn’t impenetrable. You can still see the scenery. You can still hear muddled sounds.

Some of his voice gets through. Sunlight and warmth get through. The water still buoys you up.

If there are directions to go, there are paths to take.

If there are ways in, there are ways out. 

There are invisible barriers everywhere, but they don’t stop Steve from being there for you.

One more chocolate. One more brush of your teeth. You trade the fluffy wrap of a towel with the cozy wrap of a t-shirt, and he makes sure you’re comfortable.

A simple goodnight kiss alone might tip you over into exhausted euphoria, but Steve is not that kind of simple.

He props himself up on an elbow and rolls you onto your back.

Kissing your right temple, he whispers, “I love you.” Kissing your left temple, he confesses, “I love your voice,” the peak of your forehead, “I love your spirit,” between your eyebrows, just above one ear, and the other.

“Miss you when I’m not here. Miss you when you’re not here. I miss you even in my dreams.”

Then, and only then, do you get that simple kiss goodnight. His soft lips melding to yours for a long, soothing moment before you two drift off to sleep.

When you dream of a beach and an ocean and nothing at all, you miss him, too. You remember his presence, and the truth becomes as clear as the sky above.

There are pieces of you to love. You are a loved thing. You are light and heat and sound that can get through, even when misaligned, even when you don’t match up, even when not in the same sea.

Steve’s love is invisible, but you know it’s there. It’s not a limit to fear. It’s not a barrier to turn away from. His love is not an obstacle you want to get past.

Not every invisible force is bad.

Sometimes, barriers slow you down, let you listen, make you rest, and help you float.

There are barriers everywhere, but nothing between you and Steve.

Ransom Drysdale and a kiss out of spite ⬅️ ➡️ Ari Levinson and a kiss out of envy

A/N: oof. *walks away crying* I'm fine. It's fine.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza  @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @trudy-shams @saranghaey @awkwardgiraffe726 @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @rogersbarber

[littleoddwriter]

Trapped | Cooper Abbott x GenderNeutral!Reader | Dark Fic

Hi there! I'm incredibly down bad for him, to nobody's surprise, so here's the first fic I wrote for him. More to come! This fic isn't exactly romantic or even really sexual, albeit with some hints to it; but I used it to get a feel for writing him, first and foremost. And also because I saw somebody wanting a fic where Reader is in Lady Raven's position at the end of the movie, and I wanted that as well, so, here. It's not exactly what was imagined when demanding that, I know, but it's something! (also, excuse the uninspired title, please, it's very tongue-in-cheek, I know, dshjkfgsdkjs) summary; You're captured by the Butcher as his last chance of entertainment - and revenge - before his inevitable arrest or death. There, you learn a lot about him, and also yourself. notes/warnings; GenderNeutral!Reader; Reader is in Lady Raven's position (Reader is a pop star, etc.); slight spoilers for the movie (but I expect you to have seen that if you're reading this anyway); Character Study; Implied/Referenced (Attempted) Murders; Kidnapping; Angst; Implied/Referenced Sexual Attraction; Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse; Mostly Open End; Dark Fic. (once again, this is not a full on romantic or sexual fic about Cooper and Reader, but more of an exploration of the character, his dynamic with Reader, and Reader's own conflicting thoughts and feelings about the situation and Cooper. there are hints of romance and sexual attraction, though. this is a dark fic and it has a mostly open ending; but it does imply a bad ending if we're realistic. if you're like me, you could also find a way to imagine a better ending to it. that's why I left it somewhat ambiguous.)

The car’s passenger door was slammed shut on you, making you jump with the force behind it. A shaky breath left your trembling lips as you waited for Cooper to settle in the driver’s seat of his wife’s car. Soon to be ex-wife, you figured. If not a widow. 

Your mind was still reeling with the night’s events. One moment, you’d been giving your best for the concert, like you always did, and the next moment, you were stuck with a wanted serial killer because you decided to play hero. Desperately, you hoped it would all be worth it, in the end. Or else this might have been the stupidest decision you’ve ever made. You should have just alerted the FBI when you got the hunch that something was up with the man, you berated yourself internally. 

“Put these around your wrists,” the Butcher told you gruffly, holding up a pair of zip ties to you. 

Stunned, you just looked at him for a long moment, your mind trying to catch up with what he was asking of you. Everything has been happening too fast. Too much, all at once. And worst of all, you were terrified. Yet at the same time, you felt for him. He was a desperate man. Trapped. Cornered. In a way, you were his last resort now. How ironic.

Cooper gave you a stern look, his dishevelled hair covering parts of the upper half of his face, but the fierce glint of desperation and murder in his eyes shone through the brunette strands. 

“Put. These. Around. Your. Wrists,” he commanded again through clenched teeth, shoving the zip ties into your chest, as your hands automatically flew up to catch them.

Shakily, you nodded and put your hands through the loop. Once the zip ties were around your wrists, the Butcher pulled them tight, the thin hard plastic cutting into your skin, rubbing it raw with every small movement. 

As soon as he was certain that your hands were tied, Cooper started the car’s engine and quickly exited the garage and driveway. In the distance, you could hear police sirens on their way to the house you had just left behind. Too late. 

“If only you hadn’t decided to play hero,” Cooper mused with a strained, almost manic, smile on his lips, “None of this had to have happened, you know? I would have let you go.”

“And let you kill more innocent people? I couldn’t bear the guilt, knowing I could have prevented it,” you responded quietly.

“As if you actually care about random people’s lives more than your own. You’re just as fake as they all are. Pretending that you’ve got it all figured out, that you’re fulfilled.” He sounded bitter, angry, spitting those last words in your direction, like your existence has personally offended him. His grip around the steering wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white. 

Not wanting to anger him any further, you decided to stay quiet; even though you had a million things on your mind that you would have liked to retort. 

The FBI had briefed you on what kind of man they figured him to be. A psychological profile, they called it. You had heard about those on TV before, but it always seemed silly to you. How could they possibly know what was going on inside a person’s mind without having ever met them before? With all conclusions based on evidence from crime scenes instead? It didn’t make sense to you.

Until now, that was. Cooper seemed like the exact man the FBI had described to you. Perfect on the outside, an overachieving family man, unassuming, kind, always happy and ready to lend a hand. And beneath all of that, on the inside, there was a hurt child, craving their parents’ love and approval, but never getting it. Now, he let that anger that had manifested out on people he deemed to have had it all, to have what he was missing all his life. 

Deep down, you felt bad for him. If his parents had been different, perhaps there would be one less killer on the loose. Or perhaps, he would have ended up this way, no matter the circumstances of his upbringing. Who was to say that killers like him were only a product of abuse? 

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled into another driveway, getting out of the car. His footsteps were quick and heavy, and your heart was sinking in response to those sounds. 

Ripping the passenger door open, he leaned down to look at you, grabbed your bound wrists and jerked your body in his direction, forcing you out of your seat. Stumbling out of the car, you almost bumped into him, your head barely reaching his shoulder. He really was massive. You stood no chance against him, you thought, feeling defeated. This was it, then. 

Cooper bent over and quickly picked up the bag he had taken with him from the garage, before slamming the door shut once more. And just like he had done before, the Butcher put his fingers on your shoulder, verbally giving you directions for where he wanted you to go, while keeping a dominating presence behind you, not allowing you a real chance to escape.

Eventually, you found yourself in a basement, not unlike the one Spencer, who was hopefully safe now, had been stuck in before. 

The Butcher pushed you down to sit on the cold hard chair in the middle of the room, a support beam right behind it. He made quick work of putting the ice-cold steel chains and cuffs around your wrists and ankles, snapping off the zip ties at last. 

Looking up at him from where you were seated, the sinking feeling of hopelessness creeped in. There was no way you were getting out of this alive. 

Cooper retrieved a cleaver from his bag and pulled out another chair, placing it across from you and sitting down on it, playing with the knife in his hands. He looked at you for a long moment, not saying anything, just breathing calmly, idly stroking the knife’s handle with his thumb of the hand that was holding it. With his other hand, he brushed the loose strands of hair away from his face.

Once again, he was smiling at you. A smile that never reached his eyes, which glinted with murderous intent and something else that you couldn’t quite place. His smile was too big, too sharp, to be genuine. It seemed manic and desperate. Strained. And at the same time, he looked to be in complete control over the situation. 

Cooper Abbott was a man of many facades, you came to realise. 

“I was gonna stop, you know?” he finally spoke up, the tense silence broken by his voice that was laced with too many emotions at once, giving away that he didn’t feel as in control as he seemed to be. 

You waited for him to continue, not daring to ask questions.

“It’s been a while since I last felt the urge. Until you, tonight. I don’t know if it was because of everything that happened, or because I could see right through you… but it was an almost pleasant surprise to feel the urge again.

“Spencer was gonna be my last. That was the plan. Go to the concert with Riley, kill Spencer from the comfort of my home, sneak out hours later, making up some kind of lie of having to work an extra shift because of an emergency, chop him up, dispose of his body and any evidence, return home, and pretend like nothing had happened,” Cooper explained his initial plan for tonight like he was talking about something completely normal, like a family vacation he was planning instead. It was eerie, but somewhat intriguing to you. 

“And then, with time, I would have cleaned out all the houses I had bought to keep my two lives safely apart. I could have been a regular husband, father, and firefighter in just a couple of weeks, maybe months. And no one would have been any wiser on what I had done for all those years that the Butcher was active. It was the perfect plan,” he finished with a frustrated sigh, brushing his hair away from his face again with more force than was necessary. You could hear the steady, but sharp, tapping of his fingers against the cleaver’s wooden handle.

There was a long, tense moment of silence.

You almost felt the urge to apologise for ruining his plans.

“Why did you decide to stop?” you asked, unable to contain your genuine curiosity any longer.

Strangely enough, Cooper’s smile softened, his face relaxed and his eyes lost some of the fierceness in them. “Because I thought that I had finally done enough. The urge had lessened over the years, like I said, I didn’t feel it for a while until tonight. I was just doing it out of routine at this point, I think. Believe it or not, it was fun. And I wasn’t ready to give that up for a while.”

“What changed?” 

“I did… My children changed me. Riley and Logan are everything to me. And I was trying my hardest to be the dad they deserved to have. The one that they needed. A loving, fun, and especially involved, dad. I didn’t want them to feel like I did growing up,” Cooper explained in a wistful tone, “It all started out as just another way to keep suspicions away from me. Starting a family with Rachel seemed like the perfect cover. Nobody would ever suspect that a true family man could be a messed up serial killer, right?”

Despite your current situation, you felt your heart flutter. You understood where he was coming from, and you wished things had gone differently for him. But most of all, you wished that he wasn’t what he was.

“I didn’t expect to actually enjoy fatherhood, or to love my kids the way I do,” he continued after a short pause, still in that oddly wistful tone, a harsh contrast to the entire situation and his true being, “It’s so strange… With everything that happened tonight, I’m just enraged. But I’m less angry about having been found out at all. I’m mostly angry because I’m never going to see my children again.”

This time, you couldn’t resist the urge, and so you whispered, “I’m sorry,” like it was somehow your fault, when in reality, it was his decision to murder people in the first place.

Letting out a long sigh that ended in a small, insincere chuckle, Cooper got up from his chair, meat cleaver in his hand, towering over you like this inescapable force that he was to you. 

With practised ease, he took his shirt off and threw it over the chair behind himself. You had no idea why he would do that. Easier clean-up, maybe? With regret, you realised that you didn’t hate the sight. He was an attractive man, there was no question about that. But to feel such attraction, despite your current predicament, was nothing short of confusing and embarrassing to you. 

“You don’t have to do this, Cooper,” you whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“I wish that was true, but… there’s no escape. Not anymore. I might as well have fun one last time,” he told you quietly with that eerie smile that did nothing to hide his intentions. It only emphasised them now. 

Feeling your heart rate accelerate, your stomach sank with the realisation that this would be it for you. 

It only took two steps for him to stand right in front of and above your seated, captured, cowering form. Before you could utter another plea, Cooper’s free hand wrapped around your throat, almost covering the entire thing with his large palm as his fingers gripped onto your jaw, moving your head further back as he bent down, leaning into you.

A small noise escaped your throat, sounding both distressed and almost aroused. You had no control over that, and it felt utterly humiliating to have made such a sound in response to his actions. 

The Butcher chuckled darkly, a sharp smile playing on his lips, and a glint of intrigue in his eyes. 

“I think I’m gonna enjoy this a lot more than expected…” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath tickling your sensitive skin. 

“Please don’t…” you tried again, weakly, your voice strained from the weight of his hand against your windpipe. 

As you struggled to breathe, and his hand only tightened around your neck, your vision started to blur both due to panic and the lack of oxygen. Darkly, in the back of your fuzzy mind, you thought that at least you’d go out with a handsome face as the last thing you'd see. 

Faintly, in the far distance, you heard police sirens. Or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

“If only you had saved yourself…” the Butcher whispered to you before he quickly, and with impressive force, snapped your head back against the support beam behind you, and your world went dark.

[jymwahuwu]

I feel like I have goldfish memory but good news, I remembered what scenario I was thinking about for once.

So what if reader was trapped in a samsara like the sabzeru festival (is that how you spell it?) But instead of a festival setting it's the day where she got kidnapped by our beloved general.

On this day she got kidnapped it was just supposed to be another ordinary day but then the kidnapping happens and the next morning she sees that's she's back at home and now throughout the day she's been trying to find different ways to prevent the event but always fail in the end.

The only twist here is that Jing Yuan starts to notice how we start to predict his moves and whatever he's going to do so he starts to catch onto what's happening and tries to stop us from going into another samsara but since we don't know that he knows about this time loop he just pulls a move that we weren't expecting and kidnaps us again.

Idk if you've done this but my ✨insomnia✨ ain't letting me sleep till I type this whole thing out 😭

🍰anon

I'm starting to worry about your sleep 🍰anon 😭🥺 You seem to be as sleep deprived as me.

And never thought time loops could be so interesting! This reminds me of a gaslighting post I read before where a girl broke up with her boyfriend and he kept manipulating her by pretending that they never broke up. But this is really a time loop >_<

-CW: yandere, kidnapping, non-con, breaking into your home

On the day of the kidnapping, the sky was overcast, and the continuous dark clouds organized and gathered, swallowing up the sun. Just an ordinary day, a rainy day. The lights of passing spacecraft and the crowds. You complete your daily activities as usual, such as working/resting/shopping/walking/dining. Opening the door, you took off your shoes and packed your rain gear in the hallway, not noticing anything unusual at home…and then…you fell into a coma.

When you wake up, you're in a luxurious room with a cute cartoon tape covering your mouth. You mumbled something incoherent, thrashing around in panic. The huge figure turned - who was that? Who is that? This stranger had long, layered white hair, broad shoulders, and muscles that seemed to be hidden under the armor and cloth. As soon as he saw you waking up, he immediately approached you and spoke softly. "Oh, you're awake. I've already taken a bath for you. Don't worry." The rain fell pattering outside the general's mansion.

What bath? What bath!? For you? Your eyes widened, tears of horror running down the tape. A flash of lightning flashed across your face quickly and then disappeared. Jing Yuan held your face and looked at it for a while before kissing the tape on your lips. "Sh- don't be afraid. I'll be good to you."

If you respond tactfully, there's a chance you won't get fucked immediately on the first day. After a good night's sleep, you find yourself back home, like you've never been kidnapped!! You thought you were having an immersive dream and didn't care, but you've been kidnapped again. What happened happened again.

Check the time on your phone:

[same date].

You have searched several times and calendars on the Internet, but all of them are stuck on that day and have not moved forward. Maybe this is an opportunity to change the kidnapping? You start searching and investigating who that person really is. Of course, Jing Yuan told you the name (lovers will know each other's names.) You found his introduction on the Space Online public think tank… Uh… Jing Yuan is one of Xianzhou's generals.

Xianzhou Alliance, isn’t that a well-known space civilization alliance? He kidnapped you…does anyone believe it?

Within the time loop of the same day, you tried more than ten ways and routes to avoid being kidnapped, including returning home at different times, sleeping at a friend's house, preparing weapons, taking friends home, renting a hotel room to rest, etc. . Without exception, all failed. He can always resolve and recognize your defenses and lead you away.

Jing Yuan actually knows this time loop and all the struggles and precautions you take. He can't help but see how far you can go, how smart you can be, but doesn't want you to actually escape his chessboard.

Until, after you were kidnapped again, you thought you would wake up and return home…but no. Moreover, Jing Yuan has found a way to end this day's time loop, preventing you from entering another loop. He has Xianzhou technology support after all. You look around the room - this is still the General's mansion.

Why?

Jing Yuan enjoys the fruits and sweetness of victory. Putting you at his mercy - stopping your resistance, his warm palm rubbed between your swollen thighs, spreading your buttocks. He holds you with your legs spread forward, holding you like you were a cute puppy, and penetrates you with his cock. Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

"The only timeline is that we fell in love."

[siffrinsfrozendreams]

This is my second time trying to make this post. it will probably be as much of a mess as the first draft but oh well.

Rant? Appreciation post? Character analysis? yeah idk what this is but spoilers for Act 5 and Twohats/secret ending ahead

Act 5 Siffrin lives in my head rent free. His break was SO good, and this post is me going off about them. Specifically, this post was brought on by how Siffrin tried to destroy the world, rather than themself.

It is very interesting to me how Siffrin bends and breaks reality and the world in this final loop.

How Loop, in their giving up, took it out on themself, but Siffrin takes it out on the world.

His last loop, their last attempt at breaking out of this eternal hell, because he can't do it again. They're hopeless. They're grasping at any sliver of hope they can, but at this point he can't deny how stupid it is. How pointless this is. How all this effort will likely amount to nothing, and that he's trapped here forever. That nothing will break them out of this.

"I know its stupid, I know its a long shot, but it has to be this!"

This quote from Siff's argument with Loop towards the beginning of Act 5 always stuck with me. Siffrin, this whole time, has always told himself that things are fine. As long as they have a path to follow, they'll be fine. Slowly, we see them struggle with keeping this up, but he always comes back to it.

Not this time.

This time, its all too much. He knows his plan is stupid. They know this won't work. Why would it? But also... what else can he do? What other choices does he have? Being honest with themselves and admitting that this won't work is the same as admitting that he's trapped here forever. That reality is seeping in, but he's still struggling for whatever shreds of hope they can manage. Whatever flicker of light they can see, they'll take it, even if they know the light will go out as soon as he does. Even if he knows it will amount to nothing. He has to.

Then he realizes that Loop knew there was no escape.

Siffrin can't take it. He can't take it, because it means Loop knew this whole time that Siffrin was stuck here forever, that they knew there was no way out of this, and that they were just stinging Siffrin along this entire time.

Siffrin's guide, his helper, the only person/being who knew about the loops, the only reason Siffrin wasn't completely alone this entire time... lied to him. Strung them along. Gave them false hope that they could see a new tomorrow. And it fucking breaks him.

Already grasping for whatever shreds of hope they can, now forced to face the reality that he'll be stuck here forever. Loop lied to him. They can't trust them. So he leaves, and never contacts them again.

Then they return to the Clocktower, only to hear his family talking about him. To hear Odile say that they can't trust him, and none of the others disagree with her.

Siffrin. Is. Alone.

(Which, funnily enough, is the exact opposite of what they wished for.)

The only person who knew about the loops, Siffrin's guide, is a liar and untrustworthy. Siffrin's family doesn't trust them anymore, and are planning to leave him behind.

Siffrin is tired. They're also out of options. So, what else are they supposed to do, aside from the only thing they can at this point? The only thing they've ever known...

They enter the House.

He has to take down the King himself.

His last shred of hope. The last flicker of light before they're plunged into an abyss of despair. Their final attempt at ending this loop, no matter the cost.

Alone.

What else is he supposed to do, who else are they supposed to lash out at, aside from the world itself?

There is nothing left for them here. No one to go back to. Their family hates him, and Loop is untrustworthy. They can't even remember his own blinding country, can't read or speak the language, and can't remember anything about it. Everything he could be holding onto is gone now.

So, he takes his anger and despair out on the world itself. On the House, his eternal prison. On the sky, with stars they don't recognize. On a world, that will forget him and abandon him just like everything else has.

Because, either he breaks out of the loop this time, or there won't be a world to come back to to loop again. Because they can't do it again. Not anymore. They've had enough. What's the point of going on any further? Whats the point of trying to open a door that doesn't even exist?

Its either this, or nothing.

Loop had no one from the very beginning. They were alone for it all. When they gave up, they took it out on themselves. Who else was to blame for their suffering, after all?

Siffrin, however, had Loop. They weren't alone for any of it. As hopeless as they felt, Loop was there to help him. That is, until now, and Siffrin can't handle it. Can't handle the only person whose been supporting him through this knowing that he was trapped here forever from the start.

Of course he'd take out his anger on a Universe that betrayed him. What else would they do?

[hero-of-the-wolf]

So here's a thing me and @crazylittlejester have been working on. Enjoy :)

Summary: After a difficult journey during the day full of obstacles and hard battles, Time finds himself trapped repeating the same battle over and over again. He has no choice, if he wants to save his brothers. However every time he uses his ocarina to reverse fate, he finds the price of saving his lost companion is the life of another.

or: Time loop fic where everyone keeps dying and Time is the only one who can save them all.

Someone was talking.

Already?

Time sighed, resigning himself to wakefulness and opening his eye. Warriors was leaning over him, his hand already resting on his shoulder.

“It’s your turn for watch.”

Right.

Time sat up with a groan. It felt like no time at all had passed since they’d first set up camp. And before then, they’d been stuck in a grueling battle that had burned through most of their supplies. It had been a long day.

He glanced over to see Warriors smirking at him. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” The captain walked over to his own bed roll, no doubt excited at the prospect of a good night’s rest. “I was just thinking about how much ‘old man’ suits you, is all. I swear I could hear every bone in your body pop.”

Time rolled his eye, even though he knew Warriors couldn’t see it. “Very funny.”

“Thanks, I try.” Warriors flopped down on his roll dramatically with a sigh. “How are you doing, by the way?”

Time hummed at that. “I’m sure we’ve all had worse battles.”

“You’re not answering my question, Sprite.”

“I’m fine. Truly.” He sat down on the log Warriors had previously been sitting on. “We'll head to the nearest town to pick up some more supplies in the morning. Hyrule mentioned that we should be able to reach one by the end of the day.”

Warriors hummed in response. He fell silent after that, no doubt already giving in to his exhaustion. Good. He needed the rest. Time knew his shoulder was still bothering him, though the captain would never admit it.

He glanced up at the sky, noting the stars. They weren’t as bright here as they were at home, but they were beautiful all the same. The moon was out too, an almost sinister looking sliver of a smile. Time shook his head at the memories of a different moon with a sinister face and turned his attention to the fire in front of him. It was low already, but he was sure that it would last until morning. He took in a deep breath, savoring the peace that only being this deep in nature could bring.

A bokoblin’s horn reverberated through the previously still night air, making him jump.

“Everyone, up!” He shouted, springing to his feet. His sword was already in his hand. There was no time to put on his armor. The monsters were already pouring into the clearing.

Everyone scrambled to their feet, grabbing their weapons. There wasn’t even time to reach their shields. Time was lucky enough to have had an extra precious few seconds to grab his.

He felt Warriors’ back press against his own. He felt far too exposed without his armor. All of them did. But Warriors wasn’t afraid. He was annoyed.

“I can’t believe this,” he grumbled. “I got like, what, five minutes of sleep? Couldn’t they have waited until morning??”

Time's lips twitched up at that, despite their unfortunate circumstances. The poor captain had taken first watch. He’d gotten basically no sleep since their earlier battle, and he was prepared to make it everyone else's problem.

Time pressed harder against him, dodging the blow of an incoming lizalfos, and Warriors’ whining switched to complaining about his still sore shoulder.

Everything passed in a blur after that. Once the last monster was felled, Time hurried to do a headcount. They’d been at a serious disadvantage. He had faith in his boys, but he needed to make sure everyone was okay and accounted for.

Warriors was next to him, dusting himself off.

Twilight was helping Four back up to his feet.

Sky was sitting on the ground, looking winded but otherwise okay.

Hyrule and Legend were chatting off to the side.

That left….

“Has anyone seen Wild and Wind?”

Everyone’s attention shifted to him at that.

“I thought that they were with you,” Twilight frowned.

“I thought that they were with you,” Legend retorted.

“The last I saw them, they were over… there.”

Time looked where Sky was pointing. It was still far too dark to see clearly, so he cautiously approached, jerking to a stop when his foot almost slipped off the edge of a sheer drop. His heart plummeted straight down to his boots.

“They must have fallen down.”

The cliff was steep, but Time managed to find his way down to a sizeable ledge. The aftermath of a battle was strewn everywhere. They must not have been the only ones who had fallen. Warriors followed close behind, dropping down next to him.

By the time Time found them their bodies were still warm.

He fell to his knees, desperately checking for any sign of life. He was too late. Too slow. He—

From behind him, Warriors came to a sudden stop. A horrible keening sound escaped him, one that would haunt Time for the rest of his days. He stumbled to his side and drew the two younger boys into his arms. Time forced himself to his feet and stepped back. Almost on instinct, his hand reached down and clasped his ocarina. He could still fix this.

“Captain… it’ll be okay.”

Warriors looked up at him, distraught. Even after a whole war of losing people, the grief of death was something nobody could ever get used to. Not even the captain. “How can you say that? This- This isn’t okay.”

Time smiled at him sadly and raised the ocarina to his lips.

The song was one he knew all too well. The rhythm of time slowed to a stop, then started reversing. Time went as far back as he could, before ending the song and breaking into a run. He knew where they were now. He could get to them in time.

The ledge they’d fallen down to was hard to see from up top in the predawn darkness, but he knew exactly where to go. When had they even fallen? Everything had happened so fast. He climbed down as quickly as he dared. He needed to be faster.

Wild and Wind were surrounded by monsters. Wild was already hunched over, clutching at a red stain on his side that was rapidly growing.

Time almost lost his grip when Wind yelled in pain and collapsed. No.

He dropped down and unsheathed his sword, swinging it in a wide arc. The three lizalfos in front of him were cut down before they could even blink, let alone jump out of the way. A large black moblin rounded on him next. He parried its spear and stabbed it straight in the gut. He didn't have time for this.

“Tell me about your island, Sailor,” Wild’s voice, as quiet as it was, seemed to echo in his skull. Those were dying words. But he was so close!

Everything else drowned out but the sword in his hands and the words in his ears.

“It’s beautiful,” Wind whispered. “There’s a fairy fountain at the top… top of the mountain, y’know. And a bridge… bridge’s broken, though. And my sister… and grandma….”

Another moblin.

“Champion?”

Two bokoblins.

“I’m here, kid.”

“Not a kid,” Wind rasped. The fire in his voice was fading fast. They were running out of time.

Only a lowly bokoblin was left, standing between him and his fallen brothers. Time glowered at it, leveling his sword.

Nothing was going to stand between him and his brothers. He swore to Hylia that he wouldn’t let this be the end for them.

The bokoblin charged. A fatal mistake. Time easily deflected its blow with his sword, twisting around to stab it in the back.

The last monster fell. Time sank to his knees at his boys’ side again, heaving a sigh of relief. He reached into his pouch with trembling fingers, grabbing the first bottle he could find and pulling it out. The fairy flew out without delay and circled around the two boys. Their wounds disappeared. Like none of it had ever even happened.

Wild sat up, a smile already on his face. “Hey, old man.”

Wind was still clutched in his arms, blinking up at them both. Then he smiled, too. “Took ya long enough.”

Time closed his eye, just for a moment. They were okay.

He didn’t really have the time, but he couldn’t stop himself from clapping a firm hand on both their shoulders, checking them both over with his eye for any lingering injuries before getting up from where he was crouched in front of them. Sounds of clanging swords and frustrated shouts came from overhead where the others were, and Time knew he had to get himself and the boys up there to help as soon as possible.

Wild was easiest to help back up over the ledge. The kid was terrifyingly gifted at scaling up cliffs, and only needed a bit of a boost from Time to help him get up there faster than he could have on his own. The second the champion completely disappeared over the edge and back onto the cliff top, Time turned to Wind, locking his fingers together to provide a hopefully steady foot hold.

“Ready, kid?”

Wind nodded sharply, a determined look on his face, before placing his small boot in Time’s hand and reaching up towards where Wild’s hand was extended down for him to grab. Time helped shove him up as far as he could, supporting the little pirate’s weight as much as he was able to until Wild got a firm enough grip to haul him back to safety.

Unfortunately for Time, there was no way the two younger heroes would be able to pull him up as well. The ledge was high enough that he couldn’t get a firm grip by jumping for it, not that he wanted to risk falling to his death should he lose his footing, and it was too dark to properly see how much space he had.

Warriors’s face poked over the edge, giving him a familiar crooked grin.

“Well you’ve gotten yourself rather stuck, Sprite,” his brother teased, and Time couldn’t help but instinctively cross his arms over his chest and glare up at the captain in defiance at the tone in his voice. It wasn’t his fault he’d gotten trapped down here, he was saving Wind and Wild’s lives!

The image of their bodies flashed across his mind and his expression dropped as he felt his breath catch in his chest.

He forced himself to shake his head to free himself from the sight of a fate that no longer existed.

Warriors’s hand reached down just low enough for Time to grab when he ran and jumped for it, and there was a moment when his hand clasped around his brother’s where he was terrified his weight would drag them both down over the edge, but a second pair of hands reached down and grabbed his forearm, helping the captain pull him up.

Time allowed himself five seconds to pant in the grass on his back before forcing himself to sit up, giving Sky a grateful nod for helping him before taking Warriors’s offered hand and letting his brother drag him to his feet. He looked around for Wind and Wild, squinting to make out their shapes in the dark, and spotted them with swords raised, helping Legend fight off a large group of Lizalfos. They were moving okay, they were breathing, they were fine.

He saved them, and now he had to help the others finish this battle.

They could do it, they’d done it a hundred times already. There was nothing even special about this group of monsters, they were all going to be just fine.

He hated that he hadn’t been able to go back far enough to give them enough time to put their armor on before the battle started. Time couldn’t help the surge of anxiety that blossomed when he felt Warriors’s spine press into his back when the captain’s shoulders met his, unprotected from his usual amount of armor. His brother was too vulnerable like this, they were all too vulnerable like this.

The captain groaned when Time’s shoulder slid against his.

“You okay?” He asked quickly, shifting so he wasn’t leaning too much on his brother. Warriors’s shoulder had been dislocated earlier in the day during the previous battle, and while he’d had a red potion or two shoved down his throat, Time had no doubt it was probably still sore.

“No, I’m not okay,” the captain whined, and he didn’t have to be facing him for Time to know with certainty there was a pout on Warriors’s face. “Can a man not sleep for more than five minutes without having something happen to him?? Hylia!!”

“What has the world come to?” Time sighed, overdoing it a little on the sadness he forced into his voice.

Warriors pushed against his back roughly in retaliation, grumbling something under his breath that he couldn’t hear.

They worked together to beat back the monsters that had surrounded them, and Time tried to focus on his brother behind him instead of letting his mind drift back to Wind and Wild’s bodies. Each bokoblin he cut down made him feel further and further from what he’d just seen, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of shock he’d felt.

Life was a very fragile thing. None of them were going to live forever, but those two were just kids. This was not their place to die.

“We’re so fucked, why are there so many of them??” Warriors sighed, and Time couldn’t find his voice to agree with him. Not after what he just saw. Not after what he’d erased. He refused to believe they were ‘fucked’.

He had a second chance, he wasn’t going to let anyone die, not this time. He’d already healed Wind and Wild, he just needed to keep an eye on them and all the others and they’d pull through as they always did.

Something swooped down towards their heads that Time couldn’t quite make out in the dark, and while he’d managed to duck out of its path, the thing hit Warriors square in the face.

“What the fuck!!” The captain screamed. “What was that?!”

“Keese!” Hyrule shouted from somewhere to Time’s left. He couldn’t spare a second to look over at the traveler, he was too busy trying to defend both him and his temporarily stunned brother.

“Why!!”

“Fuck you mean, ‘why’??” Legend yelled.

Time swatted at the damned keese with his shield when it swooped down at his head again.

“Just be glad you didn’t get hit by a swarm of them!” Hyrule laughed. “That one must not be from this era, my keese never travel alone!”

It took Warriors an embarrassing number of tries to cut it down, and by the time he had, Time had mostly cleared out the bokoblins around them. He took a moment to breathe and try to spot Wind and Wild in all the chaos.

“Look out!” Twilight screamed, and Time ducked, shoving Warriors out of the way as well when an axe went flying overhead, glinting in the light of the moon. Thankfully it embedded itself in a nearby tree as opposed to any of the boys.

“Thanks, goat boy!” The captain called back, brushing himself off as he got up, holding out a hand to help up Time.

He missed the concerned look Warriors gave him as he steadied Time on his feet, he was too busy looking around the clearing, counting seven hylian heads still up and moving. Once sure everyone was safe he couldn’t help but feel anger towards himself for being so distracted that he’d almost allowed himself and Warriors to get hit by a flying axe.

“Hey, everything okay?” His brother asked, kicking a bokoblin he didn’t recognize down when it waddled a little too close, bringing his sword straight down into it and ending the little creature. “You didn’t hit your head on the way down to get Wind and Wild, did you?”

Time didn’t have a chance to open his mouth before Warriors grabbed his chin and started moving his face around to check for cuts or marks where he might have been hit.

He swatted away the captain’s hands, ignoring the way Warriors raised an eyebrow at him and narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“No, I’m fine,” he told him, and he meant it. He was fine, so were Wild and Wind, and so were all the others. He just had to get out of his own head and focus, this was no time or place for mistakes.

“Are you sure?” Warriors questioned, because of course he wouldn’t just drop it. “You seem really distracted and a bit out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Time repeated with an annoyed huff. He could argue with his brother later, right now he had to focus on killing monsters.

He got lucky when a lizalfos jumped down on the other side of the captain, freeing him from whatever lecture on hiding injuries Warriors was no doubt prepping to give him. It didn’t take long to deal with the monster, and in all the chaos it was quite easy for Time to slip away to another side of the clearing.

He headed over towards Four, who was singled out by a group of bokoblins. The poor young man was doing his best, but there was no one near him to help at all, and from what Time could see through the darkness, no one else was in immediate need of assistance.

“Oh Hylia, thanks,” Four wheezed when Time was able to take out a huge wave of bokoblins in one swing with his significantly larger sword.

“Any time,” he said quickly, swinging again, this time in a large arc right over Four’s head when the younger hero ducked.

Legend came sprinting past with an enraged cry, chasing after a moblin that kept bouncing out of the way of his swings.

“Fucker!!” He screamed when he missed again.

Time snorted, taking a moment to check on Wind and Wild one more time. They were a terrifying duo, with Wild dancing about and weaving between the monsters, shoving them right into Wind’s sword. Every time they successfully got another one, the pirate let out an evil little cackle, the faint light making his eyes sparkle.

They were fine, and the number of monsters was finally getting smaller as less and less of them swarmed into the clearing.

His mistake had been allowing himself less than a second to believe that they were all going to be fine.

He hadn’t even seen it happen, his back was turned, all he’d heard was a sickening crack followed by Legend’s awful scream. He felt his breath catch in his throat but he couldn’t hear anything besides that awful sound the vet was making and his own pounding heartbeat. He knew what he was going to see when he turned, he knew, and he didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t stop himself. Time whipped around to look at them, so quickly that he felt nauseous, although that might have been because of the angle Four’s neck had been twisted at, or the way his lifeless eyes were still staring up at the sky, or the horrible way his dead body was sprawled in the grass.

Time didn’t waste a second, he couldn’t bear the sight of one of his dead brothers a second longer. With trembling hands he brought the ocarina to his lips and began to play as warm tears ran down his face.

READ THE REST ON AO3!!! :)

[vulpixisananimal]

Carrion!Sif AU, Chapter 2

ACT 2, The Smell

(You wake up.)

(. . . What.)

(You, you were checking for traps in the hallway and couldn't see, smell, feel anything until the very last second and then-)

"Siffrin!"

(It was Mirabelle. She walked up you you just like last time and just like then just started, taking to you!)

"Good morning! Or, w-" >>> "-but not too long!"

(You stared at Mirabelle as she walked off. The scent of that soap she used even stronger than last time. She, she said the same thing, same exact thing?!? But, but wait you- How- how did-)

(Did you-)

(DID YOU JUST DIE?!?!?!)

(You did!! You must have!! You just walked into that hall and said everything was fine and you died!!! You didn't see anything!! Smell anything!! AND YOU STILL DIED?!?!)

(You're USELESS!!! It's your JOB to find traps and you DIED!!! You didn't even get a glimpse of the King and you just got squished flat!!! STUPID, STUPID STUPID!!!)

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

(Okay you're over it now.)

(You sit up, dizzy. And now absolutly starving. Your stomach growls. Stars, why are you so hungry again??? Ugh, and now you're gonna have to wait untill tonight, again! You grip the grass beneath you, taking a breath, once, twice, and three times. You're ok, Sifrin. You're ok. You're back here, and now you can do better this time.)

[You got the "Memory of Looping!" You'll always remember this.]

(. . . What was that voice?)

(You stand up, looking around. You could smell the birds, the people, everything around you. Come on, Siffrin. You'll be okay.)

[. . . You should come to the Favor Tree when you have a second, Stardust~]

(You shudder, Stardust?)

>>>

". . ."

(A. . . A star?)

(You had gone straight to the favor tree to see just, what just happened. And, there was a star sitting there, a star person.)

". . . My! Struck speachless at the sight of me, aren't you~?" (The star put a hand to their mouth like they were laughing at you.) "You're so cute, Stardust~"

(Stardust?!?) "U-uhm--"

"Aww, Siffrin. Look at you, all lost and confused~"

(?!?!?!?) "How, how do you know my-"

"Why wouldn't I know, you're Sif! Siffrin! No middle name, no last name~" (The star leaned back against the favor tree.) "Now I know you must be quite overwhelmed, with this being your first loop and all~"

"My. . . ." (You shake your head, this was all a lot to take in, and. . .)

"Oh where are my manners! Take a seat, Stardust, there's plent of room~"

(You look between the star and the root of the tree. Who, who was this?!? You couldn't tell, they smelled of, sugar. Strongly of sugar, and nothing, and a bit of something that smelled a bit familiar.)

(. . . . . . You decide to sit down.)

". . . . . ."

". . . . . . . . . So! You're stuck in a time loop!"

>>>

"Phew, Bonbon! That was DE-LI-CIOUS!!"

(Deja Vu.)

(So, you're in a time loop. Loop was, here, and helping you out. But, that was okay! Great, actually! That means that you could be useful! And that makes it okay, doesn't it? You could get used to this, used to dying. Something about it, it felt familiar, and that felt, comforting? Why should it feel comforting?)

(. . .What were you thinking about again?)

(Anyway! You ate up your food even faster than last time. You felt famished! Even more so than before! But you had to pace yourself at least a little. Right? Don't cause a scene.)

(This'll be fine!)

>>>

(It was right there.)

(It was right BLINDING THERE!!!)

(Right in front of your stupid! Blinding face!! A little hidden switch in the side of a pillar! How!! How could you miss it!!! Stupid, stupid stupid stupid!!!!!)

(You breathe in, and out. Fine, you flip the switch.)

(CRACK!)

(THUD!!!)

(. . . . . There's a pause, a large rock fell a few feet back.)

". . . . Let's go, everyone."

"W-wow! Not even phased! Huh!" (Isa says, falling in step as you lead everyone along. They were scared, worried, you could smell it, it's fine, though, nothing bad can happen now.)

>>>

"Why the need for an armory and weapons in the first place?" (Asks Odile)

(It was a small room, a few spears on a rock, a sword on the wall. The others were talking as you looked around. The smell of sugar only got stronger.)

(You weren't paying too much attention to the conversation, once they were done, you moved on. What else was around the room? There was a big steel thing with a stone on it, and a big brick, thing- O-OH, you take a big step back.)

"You're alright, Sif!" (Isabeau says, reassuringly.) "I don't think anyone will be using this forge aaaaany time soon."

"It's not even hot!! Dummy!!" (Bonnie walks over to the forge and kicks it.) ". . . Ow."

"Be nice, Bonnie." (Odile adds, giving you a look of sympathy.) "You can't exactly controll these things."

"Too true! Let's get going, then!" (Isa finishes, you nod, leaving the room. Fast.)

>>>

"Do you guys, smell that?"

(You had to ask. You had to because it was getting unbearably strong! The SUGAR! The sweetness!! It honestly was driving you a little mad and stepping through the halls only made it worse!! You knew, it was LEADING somewhere!)

"Smell. . . What?"

"I don't smell anything."

"Hmmmm, maybe?"

"Is it the sugar?"

(You turn to Bonnie.) "Sugar?"

"Yeah, sugar!" (They sniff the air.) "It's been around since we got in here. Super sugary."

(Huh.) "Guess I'm not crazy then."

"Hehe, I wouldn't say that!"

(You all laugh, and move on. Right, sugar, that was fine. Just a bit of sweetness. You all walk on, through the hall, to the door at the end. The smell got stronger, why here? Was it a food storage room? Well, you were about to find out anyway. You open the door and walk inside.)

(You gag and stumble to a knee, the smell was WAY. WAY TOO STRONG. Your eye was watering, it was unbearable. You felt Isa kneel down to your side.)

"S-sif! Are you alright?!?" (He asks, worried.)

"S-so strong-" (You choke out.)

"C-careful! There's-" (Mira starts, you look up, there was a weird sadness in the room you didn't even see! You could barely see anything, anyway. It noticed you all, and charged.)

"Gems, Siffrin, get up!" (Odile takes a combatitve stance.)

"R-right-" (You stumble to your feet, gripping your dagger, battle time, just, don't, don't think about the smell, don't, get, distracted--)

-----

(Obligaroey @traumaboyexo <3)

[cosmiconix]

Annalicia: Today is my Papa French Fry's birthday! And what better way to celebrate his six hundred & eighth birthday, than to let mom, dad, Grimhilde & Tremaine tell you all the mystical story of how he became the great leader you all know today! So, grab yourselves a blanket & some popcorn, cause we're diving into some history! Take it away guys!!! 😆✨ Hades: *clears throat* So, after falling from Notre Dahm in the year 1482, Frollo's soul got sucked into a powerful vortex that trapped him inside a mysterious, magical sphere. Maleficent: There, he relived his darkest moments in life; stuck on an endless loop of his own demise for twelve, horrendously long years. Tremiane: In the year 1495, on the thirteenth anniversary of his death, Claude Frollo was suddenly released from his nightmarish prison, & left inside a world that was not his own. Grimhilde: From there, he vowed never to return to his old ways, & build himself a better life far away from the rest of the world, where he could never hurt another person again. Hades: But building a life wasn't easy, he had to learn everything on his own with little time to do it, difficult challenges were met at every corner, but Frollo stayed strong, & kept trying his best to adapt to this new world. Maleficent: Within three years, Frollo had built himself a place to call home, & claimed the entirety of this world as his own; however, he discovered he wasn't the only one who'd been trapped in those horrible prisons, he found others, souls who were stuck in their own nightmares, facing Gods know what. Tremaine: He couldn't bear the thought of others feeling the pain that he once felt, so he took it upon himself to free all those who were locked away & grant them the freedom they so desired. Grimhilde: The more people he freed, the stronger the estate became, he designed systems within the growing mansion where those who lived there; could use their skills to support the growing family, he provided them with protection from the elements & supplied them with all that they needed to remain happy & healthy. Hades: He held order within the mansion to keep everyone safe & ensure no harm would come to them under his care, it was Frollo's continuous efforts; that landed him the position as leader of the mansion & of all who lived there, but with so much to be done, he knew he couldn't do it by himself. Maleficent: So, with my assistance, we created the Crowns Party, a leading system of villains who would assist Frollo in caring for the entire estate alongside him, & only a select few were chosen over the years. Annalicia: Can I finish the story? 😄 Hades: Go ahead kid! 👍 Annalicia: To this very day, with the help of Maleficent, Hades, Grimhilde & Tremiane, the mansion & all its residents remain in peace, living happy lives under the watchful eyes of the Crowns Party & its dedicated leader, Claude Frollo! And that everyone, is the story of how Frollo became the leader you all know & love! 😊✨

Maleficent: A leader whose birthday cake still needs to be decorated. Annalicia: OH! RIGHT! I'm on it!!! *dashes away*

[r0mantic-f00l]

(sirius and the Marauders are not like good people in this story fyi, I apologise please don't kill me :D )

Thunder

Sirius Black was an intoxicating man.

That was a feature most admired of him yet most feared.

He was exhilarating, he could make you feel as if you are eternal, as if you could fly through the clouds, as if you could stay forever young and naïve.

He was also dangerous. Not dangerous in the sense of crime, but rather in the sense of entrapment. Once you felt the exciting rush that came with the mere presence of Sirius Black, you were trapped. Imprisoned in a constant cycle of happiness, of waiting and of misery.

Imprisonment is not the right word, no. Rather, you willingly stayed, going along with a cycle that became normal. Because no matter what he did, no matter how painful he tugged your heart, you stayed. Your heart was his.

-♡-

Booming music vibrated against the floorboards, yet the roaring laughter of Sirius Black and his friends rung over it.

It was a small gathering, not a party, could not be defined as one with only a handful of people there. All were Sirius' friends, friends that you had met only a couple of times. The person you were closest to the most from his little circle was Lily, yet even then it could barely be called a friendship.

You sat in the corner, feeling the water droplets from the condensation of your cider can running down into your fingertips as you watched Sirius with his friends.

He grinned brightly as James told a story about his job or whatever it was, and laughed when Remus mumbled something whitty.

The girls were talking in the kitchen about something, whilst you waited for Sirius to invite you over to his side. You scolded yourself for being so dependant on him, yet you felt like you had no choice but to depend on him in that situation, when you were surrounded by people you barely knew.

"You OK there?" You lifted your head up to Lily, who smiled softly at you, holding a wine glass in her hand.

You nodded and took a sip of your cider.

"Yeah, are you?"

She nodded and took a sip of her wine.

"Can't complain."

She then sat down next to you and glanced over at her fiancée talking to your boyfriend.

"How're you and Sirius?"

Not good. Not healthy. Stuck in a loop of arguing and apologising. Yet you would not exchange it, would not leave him, for anything.

"Good. You and James?" You replied.

"Never better." Lily smiled whilst gazing at James with such adoration in her eyes.

James felt her gaze, like their minds and souls were connected, and smiled at Lily, looking at her in a way that showed his strong love for her, in a way that made everyone know just how much James Potter truly treasured his future wife.

It wasn't fair. It felt cruel watching their love, seeing the way his smile only grew whilst her cheeks deepened in its red colour.

Sirius seemingly had forgotten you were there in the corner, talking loudly to his three friends.

"God, you lot have no idea how frustrating it is to date someone so needy and desperate and clingy. I just want her to fuck off, you know? To just leave me alone sometimes and... I don't know, cling to someone else."

The group laughed in shock to his words.

"No, I'm not joking, honestly if she came home and said she wants an open relationship or some shit, I'd be relieved. Maybe she'd give me a fucking breather or something." Sirius mumbled, grinning when James patted his shoulder whilst chuckling about how 'awful' he is.

"Oh my God, I can't believe he said that." Lily gasped, staring at Sirius with wide eyes as if she was suprised.

You knew she wasn't. You knew she expected that of him, that she knew how harsh he could be with his words. How he broke hearts as if it was nothing but a bit of fun to him.

"It's OK." You murmured, plastering a smile on your face whilst your eyes turned glassy.

This was not the first time you had pretended you were not hurt by him, and it wouldn't be the last. You would let him say the most vile things about you as long as he would come to you with open arms and hold you delicately like you were his everything.

Because you believed you were. Like he was your everything. You loved him. And you believed he loved you. Even if the only times he would say it was when he was inside you.

"Really? You're not gonna say anything to him?" The red-haired girl raised her eyebrow at you, staring at your smile as you stared at Sirius.

You didn't answer her.

"If that was James saying that, I'd throw my ring at his head." Lily murmured whilst lifting her glass to take a sip of her wine.

Her words stung, made you feel like you were a weak, stupid girl.

You weren't. You were in love. You were addicted to Sirius Black.

Lily then left your side to go join the other girls, and you felt truly alone.

Then he looked at you.

Just one glance, one second before he turned away.

And you felt like you had everything you needed right there, with him.

-♡-

It was midnight when you both returned to your shared apartment.

Sirius was drunk, although he argued he was only tipsy whilst slurring his words, and you were sober. You were always the sober one whilst he was always the drunk one, and it would always lead to something different, something that he would say once and never again.

He stumbled into the living room when you unlocked the front door, immediately taking off his shoes and throwing them somewhere that you would have to find the next day.

He unbuttoned his white shirt all the way but left it hanging on his shoulders, and he walked over to the wall-length mirror, pointing at his tattoos and smiling whilst he explained the meaning of them to you.

You grinned, already knowing the meaning of them all, but you let him explain nonetheless.

"We-we should get matching tattoos." He gasped, turning to face you.

"Yeah?" You smiled, knowing he didn't mean it, knowing he would forget he even thought of it the next morning, yet you would still cling to the idea of having an imprint of you on his skin forever.

He nodded enthusiastically and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Yeah, we could get hearts or flowers or something..." Sirius trailed off, bending down to nuzzle your neck, sighing like he had found his permanent home.

You ran your fingers through his soft hair whilst your other hand rested on the back of his neck, letting yourself relax in his arms.

Unexpectedly, he picked you up and began spinning around, laughing whilst you squealed but joined in with his laughter.

"I'm dizzy." He murmured, and he stopped spinning, yet he still held you like you were a fragile doll.

Before you could say anything, Sirius walked over to the couch and dropped onto it, groaning as you fell with him.

You shook your head whilst chuckling, moving to straddle him as you brushed his hair out of his eyes.

He was gazing up at you like you were the Sun, like you were a goddess, like you were his everything.

"I'm gonna marry you."

You froze.

"W-What?"

He smiled in a goofy way, moving his hand to caress your cheek whilst the other cupped your jaw.

"I'm gonna marry you." He repeated, firmer in his voice, and you kissed him.

You didn't say anything, not even when he called you his bride, not when a couple days after he told you he wanted four children with you, not when two weeks after he told you he wanted to grow old with you.

You didn't say anything when he ignored you, when he complained about you to his friends, when he stepped too close to pretty girls in bars and clubs.

You didn't say anything because deep down, you knew he didn't mean any of it. Yet you still loved him. You always would.

Even if he came home at 4am smelling of beer and perfume, even if he pretended you didn't exist, even if he didn't care when his friends talked shit about you.

You would always end up in his arms.

-♡-

[thechaoticdruid]

[This Bites] (2)

Astarion x Chubby Female MC

Content/Warnings: Winnie freaks the fuck out. Astarion gets an owie. Asshole Brian strikes again. Nothing really crazy in this chapter.

Chapter One: Here it is.

Chapter Two: You are here.

Chapter Three: Lets goooo!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Winnie fell back with a shriek as the vampire reached out, touching the other side of the screen. 

“Ah….Well that's not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.” He muttered as Winnie continued to stare in shock and disbelief, mouth agape.  “Hello?”

“I have got to be dreaming. This is insane.“ Winnie looked back at the screen before then putting her hand back on the mousepad and attempting to click on Astarion. 

“Hey! Quit that!” He said, swatting the mouse away from him. “I can see how this may be a little overwhelming, but I'll explain everything in a moment. I just need you to do something for me.”

“I’m not sure if I should be listening to you. You just murdered Tav!” 

“Don’t worry about them. They die all the time! They're used to it.” He said in an all too cheerful tone. “I, however, need your help. I'm trapped in this place and you're the only one who can free me.” 

“Still not sure if I should trust a hallucination…”

“Oh for gods sake I'm not a hallucination! I'm as real as you are. Don't believe me? Put your hand against mine. See what happens.” Astarion stared at her intently, keeping his palm pressed against the screen. Winnie paused, thinking it over.

Well It's not actually real after all, right? Probably just a dream…

Finally she placed her hand against his over the screen. For a moment there was no reaction, but then she felt a zapping pain in her hand as if she'd been shocked. Winnie let out a yelp, her hand about to retreat before Astarion phased through the screen and grabbed hold of her wrist. The female jerked back in fear, pulling the vampire out in the process. She fell back and let out a squeak as the male fell on top of her. 

Pink tinted her face as she felt his chiseled muscular physique pressing down upon her much more soft round squishy one. Her mind was flying, filled with shock, concern, disbelief, and a little arousal….

AHHHH IT'S REAL. THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING. WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO!!?!

I….I think I'm gonna faint!

“Finally.” Astarion grinned before getting off of the flustered girl. He breathed out, clenching and unclenching his fists as Winnie noticed his fingernails had become more claw-like now that he was outside of her computer. It was so nonsensical that this was even happening. This was a character out of a video game. How in the actual fucking hell was he standing right here?!

“Thank you. It feels like I've been stuck in a time loop for gods know how long.” The silver haired elf looked around her room, a look of pure glee plastered over his face.

“I'm sorry I'm trying to process this all without completely flipping out…” Winnie said, still rather shaken up. “You're a fictional character, you can't physically be here!”

“Well I am. Though if I'm honest everything up until about three days had ago felt rather trance-like. Like I had just woken up from a reoccurring dream.”

“Three days ago? Shit…” An idea began to form in Winnie's mind. Three days prior was when she installed that cheat mod and the game locked her out. What if somehow that was the cause of this!?

“I tried to snap the others out of it, but they were still stuck in the same routine, like some mindless thralls forced to repeat the same journey over and over!” Astarion made a spinning gesture with his hand before rubbing his temple with a sigh.

“None of them seemed phased in the slightest when I tried to speak to them. Not even a good slap did the trick.” Astarion smirked with a hint of mischief, the memory of slapping Gale repeatedly and yelling ‘WAKE UP’ coming to mind.  “So I had to get your attention.” 

“So you messed with my computer?” Winnie glanced back at her laptop.

“The little box portal thing you pulled me through? Yes.” He nodded. 

“And how did you even know about me?”

“You act as though we’ve never met, lover.~” His tone suddenly turned flirty and seductive. “Falling in love with you over and over was one of the few things that didn't grow old. Well that and murdering Cazador of course.” He chuckled with a smile.

“Oh…Well maybe I am just dreaming or hallucinating.” Winnie muttered under her breath. 

“I’ve been able to tell you were there the entire time, darling. That little portal thing of yours goes both ways.”

“You've been able to see me through the screen this whole time!?” Winnie bit her lip, fearful and a bit embarrassed of what he possibly could have seen.

“See and hear, yes. Although you always looked fuzzy from my end. Tav does resemble you a little bit, but you're much more….” His eyes scanned Winnie over, taking in her shape and stature. The girl was quite short, about five feet and three inches. She had short messy brown locks and dark circles under her chocolate brown eyes. A pair of black round glasses framed her round face. Her body was chubby and stocky and her only redeeming quality it had (in her opinion) were her large round breasts. “Voluptuous…” He finished after getting a good look at her.  Despite the meaning of the word Winnie immediately wrote him off as bullshitting as usual. She had played the game enough to know how he was.  

“But it is rather delightful to finally meet you in person. Honestly it feels like we've known each other for years.” 

“Alright…..I'll accept that you're actually sentient. And that everytime I go through the game you can see all my choices....” Winnie said, still coming to terms with the fact that a fucking fictional vampire  just came out of her computer.  “So…What happens now?”

“I see what this new world has to offer, I suppose.” Astarion let out a sigh, “I feel so much stronger here. Like I could do anything I want.” He grinned. Winnie felt very unnerved. He had this somewhat feral look in his eyes and before she could say anything he walked over towards her window like a dumbass only to let out a yell once the sunlight touched him. 

“Ah! Bloody hells!” He hissed before rushing to hide under her nightstand like a cat.

“The fuck are you doing!?” Winnie said before rushing over to shut the curtains. “Did you suddenly think you'd become invincible!?” 

“I assumed I was still under the tadpole’s protection, but it seems I was wrong…” Astarion said with a wince. His face looked a bit singed, Winnie knelt down by the table to look at him. 

“Hold on, I'll be right back.” She said before getting up and leaving her room. She rushed down into the kitchen, opening the medicine cabinet before grabbing some aloe vera ointment. 

Winnie eventually returned to see Astarion crawling out from the table. “Stay still. This is probably going to feel cold.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just patching you up, now hold still.” She unscrewed the lid off the ointment before dabbing some on her fingers and rubbing it over his burns gently. He winced a bit as she rubbed it in over the burns on his face, but eventually sighed in relief. “There. All better.” Winnie smiled slightly. 

“...Thank you….” He said, his tone a bit hesitant. 

“Yeah, well maybe try thinking before rushing into something next time?” She hummed before setting the ointment down on the nightstand. 

The vampire appeared to be staring at her intently, a small smile forming on his face before he cleared his throat a bit. Winnie turned and looked over at her computer before suddenly hearing the front door slam open. 

Shit.  

What the hell were they even doing back this early? Winnie’s mother had specifically stated they'd be home late!

“WINNIE!!!” She could hear Brian's voice shout from across the house. Loud stomping quickly followed.

“Who's that?” Astarion asked. 

“Fuck. You need to hide, now.” Winnie said before looking around the room frantically. She grabbed hold of Astarion's wrist, panic flooded over her face.  Astarion pulled his hand back.

“Now hold on one minute! I think I deserve an explanation!” 

”No time. Now shut up and get in the closet!” She quickly grabbed his shoulders and yanked him over towards her closet door.

“Excuse me!? I will not!” He scoffed.

“Get in the goddamn closet Astarion!!” Winnie growled before forcing him into the closet and shutting the door. Her heart was pounding. 

Not like she wanted to stuff him in there, but if Brian found out there was this strange man in her room she'd likely be called a whore and kicked out of the house. Brian was old fashioned like that. 

The door to Winnie’s room suddenly opened with Brian shoving his ugly head inside. 

“Your mother is sick, so we came back early. I'm going to need some cash because she ruined my new seat cover.” Brian held his hand out as if he expected her to immediately cough up a wad of cash.

Winnie immediately scoffed, “so let me get this straight your wife is sick and you're more concerned about your seat cover? Nevermind, no. I already gave you 200$ last week!” 

“Oh you ungrateful little bitch! I let you stay in my house for free! It's about damn time you start pulling your weight!” Brian snarled and pushed at Winnie’s shoulder, making her step back. Winnie glared at him. Her mother was the one who owned the fucking house, not him. 

“I need to be able to pay for classes! I can't just give you money for every little thing.” Winnie tried to reason with him, but it had absolutely no effect on the man whatsoever.

“You have your own fucking job and live in MY house for free! You better cough up some goddamn money by tomorrow night or you're out!” Brian shouted in her face before stomping out of the room and slamming the door. Winnie sighed, feeling mentally exhausted from that conversation. She stood there for a few moments until she was sure Brian wouldn't be coming back.

“Okay, Astarion, you can come out of the closet now.” She said as the closet door slowly creaked open. The silver haired male stepped out, flicking a sock off his shoulder before speaking.

“Charming fellow isn't he?” 

“Mhm, my mom sure can pick em.” Winnie replied sarcastically, crossing her arms. “That asshole has been a thorn in my side for about four years now. Anyway sorry about the closet thing. It's just better that he didn't find out I had some random man in my room. He tends to get set off by….well everything.” Winnie said before sitting down on her bed, her hand reaching for her laptop. She was rather curious to get down to the bottom of why and how this video game character gained sentience.  

“You know darling, if this man is causing you so much grief I could get rid of him for you? It wouldn't be too difficult.” Astarion said with a sadistic smirk, crimson orbs eyed the door to the hallway.  “After all, I'll likely start to feel peckish soon…”

Winnie’s eyes widened and a look of horror formed on her face. She quickly put her laptop to the side.

“No! No no no no! No killing!” The brunette stood up quickly. 

“What? Oh come on…I doubt anyone would miss the bastard, besides your mother can do so much better I'm sure.” The pale elf said with a grin.

“No, I mean it. You can't kill anyone.” Winnie said sternly.

“Not even bad people? Ugh! You're being completely unreasonable!” Astarion scoffed, his grin completely disappeared and was replaced with a look of frustration and annoyance.

“This world isn't like where you're from Astarion. People don't get away with murder here. And if you aren't caught it'll probably end up being pinned on me.” Winnie tried to explain calmly.

“Fiiiine.” The vampiric huffed, “I'll let him live. For now…” He murmured the last part under his breath. Winnie glared at him before returning to her computer. 

“So assuming you don't want to go back into my computer…” 

“I absolutely do NOT.” Astarion was quick to say.

“I'll have to figure out what to do with you, but for now I guess you can stay here.”  Winnie said, typing in Nexus Mods onto her laptop. Astarion went and sat beside her on the bed, spralling out behind her in a sort of paint me like one of your french girls kind of way.

“We can do whatever you'd like.~” He purred seductively. 

“Stop that.” Winnie said, her cheeks turning bright red as she tried to focus on what she was doing.

“Ugh, you're no fun.” Astarion rolled his eyes and got up off the bed.  The elf scanned Winnie’s bedroom, slightly curious of some of the strange technology the girl had stored there, but not too invested. Then movement caught his crimson eye. A small fluffy black feline emerged from under the bed. She had a pink collar around her neck with a little silver bed attached to it. Curiously the cat padded over, approaching Astarion and sniffing at his shoes.  

“What an adorable little snack.~” He picked up the cat who began to pur at the attention, “don't you just look delectable?” The vampire cooed, scratching the feline behind the ears.

“Astarion. Don't you fucking think about it.” Winnie hissed, immediately feeling protective over her cat.  

“Think about what?” Astarion rose an eyebrow and looked over at Winnie with a mischievous grin.

“I swear if you even think about eating my cat-”

“I would never! Honestly I'm hurt you think so little of me. As if I could harm such a precious little pet.” Astarion held the feline up towards his face, allowing her to gently headbutt against his cheek. Her purring sounded as if it was getting louder and louder. Winnie still kept her eyes on him, though perhaps she was a little paranoid. After all he did seem to fancy cats in the game. Likely felt a kinship towards them being that they were stealthy sadistic little predators who refused to let anyone be their master. 

Winnie sighed, today had been utterly insane. Forget how it happened. What the hell was she going to do now!? She's stuck with a vampire in her house who she has to hide from her asshole of a stepdad. She already knew off the bat there was no way he'd go back where he came from and releasing him out into the real world by himself was probably a terrible idea. 

He'd either wreak havoc or end up burnt to a crisp.  This was just great.

Fuck.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Note from TheChaoticDruid: Ngl the temptation to make this into an Astarion x Maddie (The cat) story is growing. I really think there should be more stories where Star has a cat cause the dynamic is just so cute. Astarion in this story is going to be a bit different because of how I set up that he literally has been through a bunch of different playthroughs that Winnie has done. I'm also planning on diving into the mystery of how the hell this even happened in the first place. Also eventual smut. Yes, it'll be here at some point. Also don't worry Brian's time will come.

Taglist: @the-disaster-in-waiting

[astroboots]

RED FLAGS ║ PART 11

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: You overhear things you were not meant to hear. Or alternatively: The girls boys are fighting.

Content: mild angst, lots of eavesdropping on secrets.

Word Count: 6.9k words

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

The music box sits atop of the wooden counter. For a love song, it’s such a sad and melancholic melody. Made sadder by the off-key note that clangs jarringly five seconds in, after you've wound up the music box to watch the little deformed Anubis inside twirl. 

It's oddly mesmerising in a meditative sort of way, how it keeps spinning round and round with nowhere to go. 

Doing the same thing over and over again. 

Stuck.

Has Anubis always looked so unhappy?

Steven's hand brushes against your back, interrupting your musing, and you jump in your seat despite the gentleness of his touch. Looking up, you find him standing in front of you with a worried frown.

"You're going to be late for work, love," he says, "It’s nearly eight-forty."

"Shit." You’ve lost track of time, fiddling too long with the music box. 

You glance at the table where Steven has already stacked your plate. Two pieces of charred marmite toasts sit atop his emptier plate as he's walking over to the sink. A pang of guilt sits in your chest at the sight of it. 

Despite the effort Steven had gone through, getting up early and having it ready for you by the time you woke up, you've hardly even taken a bite of your breakfast. 

You rush forward, wanting to at least help him clean the plates, but Steven waves you off with a shake of his head.

"It's all right, love. You go ahead, don't want you to be late. I'll clear this up. Donna can't possibly get madder at me than she already is." 

There's a forced smile twisting his lips, and when you don't make any moves to go, Steven sets down the dishes in the sink and walks back over to you.

"Have a good day at work today," he says and tips his head, pressing his lips to your forehead. "I don't want you to worry about anything alright? Everything will sort itself out." 

It feels like deja vu when he says it, and for a second you worry, because the last time you heard this sentiment aimed at you, the man who said it disappeared without any physical trace. 

As if he can sense your apprehension, Steven continues, giving your hand a gentle nudge. "Go on, love. I'll pick you up after work, and we’ll order something nice for take out tonight." 

Despite your hesitance, you find yourself nodding as you head towards the front door. The sound of porcelain clinking together and kitchen clutter continues in the background as you click the door shut behind you. 

The hallway is dimly lit and gloomy as you make your way down to the lift. 

Once inside, it’s quiet except for the whirring of mechanical gears from above. It’s almost like being trapped in a music box of your own, except that Steven’s building isn’t fancy enough to have elevator music. There's nothing to distract you here. No twirling Anubis. No melodies. The only thing keeping you company is your own thoughts and memories. 

‘Marc, I mean it. I miss you.’ 

The memory of your own words seems to echo between your ears, and you cringe, shaking your head in an attempt to make it stop. You're restless, the cuticles of your nails itching to be picked as you try to push yesterday's telephone call from your mind. Trying to mute your own pleading voice from playing on an endless loop. 

‘I'm in love with you– ’ 

You’re desperate for a distraction, but the cramped lift offers no distraction. There are mirrors on both walls, and endless Xerox copies of your own reflection stare back at you, repeating off into infinity. There’s no place here to hide from yourself. 

‘–You don’t have to love me the same way. Just come back.’

Your hand comes to your left wrist, seeking something to fidget with to calm your nerves, but the familiar leather strap of your watch is missing. Your forearm is bare.  

Oh, for god's sake. Where have you gone and lost the bloody thing now?

As soon as you think it, you realise where it must be. Can see the watch in your mind's eye, sitting on the porcelain edge of the bathroom sink, right where you left it when you took it off to shower last night. You sigh, pressing the button of the lift back to the fifth floor. This time as the lift ascends the floor, you fix your gaze on the menacing bright red LED sign indicating the floor level, refusing to look into the mirrors on either side of you.

‘Please. I miss you.’

The lift door pings open, mercifully interrupting the replay, and you briskly retrace your steps. You’re so focused on retrieving the watch—and ignoring the unwelcome memories—that you barely register that Steven’s no longer in the kitchen. It’s not until you’re brought up short by the closed loo door that you realise it’s not going to be quite that simple. 

Looking down, you can see the light streaming under the door is cut by a shadow’s flickering movement inside. Steven’s gone to the loo. That’s all well and good—nothing out of the ordinary— except the fact that your watch, which you would very much like to wear to work, is in there with him. 

You sigh. 

You’re already going to be late as it is, but you can’t very well barge in on him in the loo, now can you? The poor man would have a heart attack.

You contemplate your options, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, and you have to resist the impulse to tap your feet like some grumpy old biddy. Trying for patience, you take a few steps back, dragging your eyes away from the bathroom to stare blindly off towards the empty kitchen corner. 

There’s not much to look at, just the morning sun streaming in the window to illuminate the pile of sauce-stained dishes waiting to be washed. Your eyes linger anyway. Your mind fills in the gap with an echo of Marc as you’re used to seeing him, standing at the sink or stove, his back to you, outlined in the soft early light. All that’s missing is his voice calling out a soft greeting.

And for a moment, you think you can hear him—his all-familiar American accent echoing from your memories. Better his than yours. Better the voice you've been missing like an amputated limb this entire time he’s been gone. 

“You need to stop.”

You jerk upright because that’s new. 

You’re no stranger to the flat, demanding tone, but you can’t trace the words back to any memory of what Marc has said to you before. 

That means it’s real.

You whip your head back in the direction of the loo where the voice is coming from. 

It’s muffled. The volume muted by the door, but you’d recognise that grumpy, impatient voice anywhere. Been replaying it enough in your mind, that you could pick the owner out of a blind lineup based on sound alone. And you can definitely identify it now in the quietness of Steven’s flat, where it’s just you and him. 

Marc. 

The room seems to narrow to a needle point, the colours blurring into each other until all you can see is the bathroom door. Excitement rushes to your head and everything feels fast and slow all at once. 

Marc is in there. 

Your legs threaten to buckle, and the wooden flooring underneath your feet seems to sink and warp into porous sand with each step forward. Then you’re standing there, in front of the loo, separated from him only by a few feet and the thin wood panelling of the accordion door, so ancient and flimsy-looking that a gust of wind could knock it down. 

You want to knock it down. You raise a shaky hand to hover just above the surface.

All you want is to grab the handle, fling it open and see Marc again. Not as you have these past months, through the lens of the memory—either your own wistful, wishful thinking or the echoes of him that have been haunting your daily life. 

You need the reality of him. To see him in the flesh and bone. Marvel at the ever-present scowl as he tips his head in irritation. That deep furrow between his brow when he’s consumed in some task. The rare half-smile that never fails to make you feel like you’ve won a rare prize at the carnival when you’ve manage to coax it out of him. 

But you can’t. 

Because you know how that will go. Even if Marc is in there, cornered in the loo, the moment he knows you're here and aware of him, he'll spirit himself away like he did last time.  

So you stay there, hand raised, feet frozen to the floor, staring down at the shifting shadow visible through the wide gap like it’s shadow puppet theatre, trying to discern the plot as you listen in. 

“This is how things are now. It’s better for both of you that I’m not around.” 

He sounds tired, weariness weighing down his words, and your throat aches. You don’t need X-ray vision to guess how Marc’s shoulders must be slumped, his hand rubbing over his face and jaw in frustration. 

The worst part is that you know Marc well enough to know that he truly believes what he is saying. Believes that his presence is a burden. That just by being here, he’s causing everyone trouble. 

He thinks he’s doing everyone a favour by not being around, and there’s nothing you or Steven can say that will make him believe otherwise. You know that. But it doesn’t mean you want to say it any less.

You want to break down the door, take him by those broad shoulders, and shake him until his head wobbles as you scream that he’s wrong. That he would be nothing but good for you. 

Because being around Marc makes you happy. Sitting next to him, watching him sip the “rubbish” coffee you’ve made him, makes your chest light up.  Seeing his puzzled expression when you make a pop culture reference he doesn’t know makes you smile.  And even though you’re not a morning person, he makes you look forward to waking up early because you know you get to spend those extra ten minutes with him. Marc makes you happy.

It goes quiet behind the door, and you can’t hear his voice anymore. Maybe Steven is arguing back. You hope so. You hope that Steven is rebutting Marc’s misguided beliefs the way you desperately want to. 

Maybe for once Marc is actually listening. 

"She doesn't know what she's asking for, Steven.” 

Maybe not, the stubborn bastard.

His voice is pained, and you tilt your forehead forward until it makes contact with the doorframe, hovering as close as you dare. It’s not like it makes any difference; not like he can sense you from behind the door—nor would you want him to, given the flight risk. But your heart hurts for him, and you just want to be closer to him in any way you can, despite the divider between you. 

“If I'm around it'll just mess everything up for–” He stops suddenly like maybe Steven has cut him off. Then there’s a grunt of protest, followed by, "Steven… That's not– Steven."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Steven!" This time he sounds almost angry, his voice is low and venomous. And whatever Steven says next must really strike a nerve, because Marc hisses, “Shut up, shut up! Shut UP!" the volume rising to a crescendo with his agitation.

It takes you by surprise, and you jump back, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process. Then you scramble back to the door, pressing as close as you dare. Worried that you’ve missed part of the conversation because you can’t hear Marc anymore. 

“Look, maybe if you just, like... chill the eff out for a second, we can talk things over, yeah?” 

That’s not Marc at all. 

Instead, it’s Steven's warm South-Londoner accent spilling through the door. They must have switched.

“You can't keep doing this. You know that right?” Steven demands. “What's your grand master plan here, mate? Hiding during the day and sneaking out like a burglar in the dead of night...? A bit cowardly, isn't it? You have to know that’s not gonna work long term."

If Marc was angry, then Steven sounds properly hacked off, his patience on the last string, worn so thin it’s a surprise it hasn’t already snapped. This is clearly not the first, or even second time, they’ve had this conversation. Apparently the fact that he's been talking to Marc is one of those things Steven "can't tell you right now." You wonder how many times they've had this same argument. From the sound of things, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Steven has tried again and again without being able to even inch Marc to budge from his stubborn position.

"It's not the perfect life though, is it? Not when you’re being a right proper idiot about all this. She wants you here. I want you here, you great pillock!” Steven’s voice is loud and indignant, and you can hear a rattle in there that you’re pretty sure is Steven grabbing onto the sides of the mirror in a frustrated attempt to throttle Marc through it. “And you can stop trying to peddle ‘normal,’ all right? Nothing about this situation is normal, and I for one am perfectly okay with that!” 

You can always trust Steven to come through with the honest truth.

God, you love that man. 

You can’t help but smile as he quite loudly voices everything you’ve been dying to say to Marc in this moment. You agree with all of it, even the throttling. Because Steven’s so very right. Who needs ‘normal’ when you can have something better together? 

“Just–” Steven cuts himself off, and you hear the deep inhale as he takes a calming breath before he continues.

“Listen, Marc…” His voice is softer now, almost cajoling. Trying to negotiate and soothe. 

You lean up on your tiptoes and in closer to the door, until you’re practically pressed against it. In your eagerness, you forget about how flimsy the material is until it gives slightly under your weight, and you flinch back. Honestly, it’s probably a miracle the flimsy thing didn’t collapse altogether.  

“You’re not fooling anyone, all right? I can feel what you feel when you’re around her.”

You wait with bated breath for Steven to continue, selfishly hoping that he’ll spell it out further because you desperately want to know what exactly it is that Marc feels around you. For you. 

“When you wake up next to her, and–” his voice spills from the bathroom, the dry sarcasm unmistakable, “when you drink that bloody awful coffee.” 

Again with the sass about your coffee! 

You scowl at the door, any goodwill towards Steven’s efforts in this conversation quickly evaporating. Surely, your coffee can’t be as terrible as all that. It’s just beans and water! How much of a difference can the ratio make anyhow? 

“Or… Or the way you clutched onto that jacket for weeks after she wore it. Treated it like some bloody teddy bear, didn’t you?” 

His jacket? The one that gave you so much grief and guilt after the almost-kiss in front of the fishtank? And Marc had… what? Snuggled with it? Your mind boggles at the very idea, even as it warms your heart.

“‘Don’t?’” Steven challenges, obviously repeating something you can’t hear. “Don’t what, exactly, Marc? Don’t state the obvious?” He barrels on, apparently unwilling to give Marc time to reply, "I know how you feel about her. And I know what you think about when you spend those extra ten minutes in the shower." 

Extra… minutes? You frown to yourself. You don't understand. What could Steven possibly mean by ‘ten extra minutes’ in the– 

Oh. 

An invading image pushes to the forefront of your mind. Of Marc's stern and focused eyes closed in concentration. Wet curls plastered to his forehead. His fingers wrapped in a tight fist over his hard cock. It’s true that you’ve not ever seen Marc less than fully clothed, but you’ve seen Steven without a thread on his body, and your brain is more than happy to fill in the blanks.

Heat curls into your stomach and settles there. Your chest feels tight, as though the thought of Marc in the shower is squeezing the breath out of you. Your vivid imagination clings onto the image, no matter how hard you try to think of something else. Your brain is too enamoured with it and refuses to let it go. 

All you see as you close your eyes are his perfect cheekbones flushed a rosy crimson as he shudders in pleasure. 

"Well if you don't want me to tell her, you’d best stop playing hide and seek then," Steven continues, clearly exasperated, "You’re being ridiculous, you bloody plonker."

Despite the fact that he's still technically whispering, he's so agitated that he might as well be shouting and the volume would be comparable. Steven never could keep a lid on his emotions. You can just picture the animated expression on his face. 

“She wants you too, you know.”  It’s quieter, comes after a second or two pause, as if Steven’s deliberately tamping down how loud he was.

More silence follows. 

You wait for several torturously slow seconds, but there’s still nothing from behind the door. Is it because Marc has been replying to Steven, you wonder. And if he has, what has he been saying? Is he angry? Brushing Steven off? Or is it like it was on the phone last night—silent because he’s not replying back at all.

Why is that somehow the worst scenario? 

You don’t hear anything else. Perhaps this is how it’s going to end today as well. Another stalemate. Stuck in a loop, like Gus II’s endless pilgrimage back and forth across the tank, forever spinning in this box that you have gotten yourselves into, with no way out. 

How long can the three of you keep doing this for? 

“Did you know… she had a sex dream about us?" Steven says. 

A cold shock grips the entirety of your spine, and you jolt like someone threw a bucket of ice water over your head. 

"That’s right, about both of us, together—said she couldn't choose." 

Oh god. God! What on earth is Steven saying? Has he lost his fucking marbles? He can’t tell Marc that! 

Embarrassment burns with a fury in your cheeks. You bite down on your tongue, trying to keep yourself still, fighting every nerve in your body that wants to ram down the door. 

“Actually, I quite think you do need to be hearing this, mate. If you would just–” Steven breaks off, then tries again, raising his voice like he’s trying to talk over and overpower someone else in volume. 

“If you would just come back and talk to us about it, I'm sure she would… Marc. Take your hands off your ears, Marc. If you would just listen for one bloody second. Can you please just– Oh, right, that’s really mature!” 

“Oh, that is bloody well it!” Steven shouts, and harsh fluorescent light floods your vision, momentarily blinding you, as the bathroom door is flung open. 

You stumble forward, nearly falling through the doorway. The only things that stops you from going arse-over-tits are Steven's solid frame and the fact that you faceplant square into the middle of his chest.

His hands go to your shoulders, helping to steady you, and it only takes a second to regain your footing. And then you find yourself staring up at your fuming boyfriend. 

Steven’s cheeks are flushed, chest heaving, and his beautiful messy curls are bouncing wildly on top of his head. He must’ve been well and truly hacked off at Marc, but at the sight of you the anger melts off of him. 

"Oh,” he says, blinking down at you in surprise, “hello, love. You’re back?” 

Turning back to the bathroom, Steven narrows his eyes pointedly at the mirror, then turns off the light and slides the door shut firmly behind him.

"How... uhm… how much of that did you overhear?" 

"Quite a bit," you admit, not bothering to beat around the bush. "I'm guessing Marc’s still refusing to come home then?" 

Steven gives an exasperated shake of his head. 

"He's being stubborn, as always."

You nod, but there’s a bitter clump stuck in your throat that you can’t quite swallow down. Steven must notice your struggle, because his hands trail down the length of your arms until he finds yours and weaves your fingers together, squeezing lightly. 

"Don't worry, love. He'll come around eventually, yeah? He just needs time." 

Steven likes to say the two of you have all the time in the world, but you're beginning to wonder if even that would be enough.

The flickering light from the telly is swathing the bed and surrounding surfaces of Steven’s bookshelves in blues and whites. You’re staring blindly at the ocean scenery playing out before you, without really hearing any of the narration as Attenborough drones on about whale wildlife. 

You feel listless. You try to tell yourself that it’s just been a long day at work. Between Poppy stealing your lunch, (which she denies) and that three hour Teams call that nearly ended your will to live, it’s no wonder you’re ready for this day to end. 

But it’s more than that. 

‘It’s better for both of you that I’m not around’.

Marc had sounded so tired in the loo this morning, like he’s exhausted to the depths of his soul, and you hate that for him. Guilt swirls in your stomach, simmering until it curdles into irritation and then anger. 

You’re furious at the whole situation. 

You hate how angry and defeated he sounded. Can't stand the thought that he's doing something that hurts him to keep you and Steven “happy.” But most of all you hate that he’s alone again. By himself, trying to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders like the victim of some tragic Greek myth, condemned to a solitary existence by the gods for all of eternity. 

But your anger isn’t helping you right now, and it certainly doesn’t help Marc.

In fact, nothing you’ve been doing has helped him, has it? All your efforts to get him to come back: spam texting him, poisoning him with your toxic coffee, confessing your feelings… The only thing any of it has achieved is to make him feel cornered and miserable. 

It needs to stop. 

You need to stop. 

“You all right, love?” Steven’s voice near your ear pulls you out of your spiralling thoughts. 

“Hmm?”

Steven frowns at you from where he sits beside you on the sofa. 

“You seem… distracted. Is there something on your mind, love?” 

“Yes, sorry, I think I’m just–” you trail off mid-sentence, the screen catching your eye when you lift your head. The credits are rolling and must have been for quite some time without you even noticing. 

“Let’s go to bed, love. Call it an early night, yeah?” he asks with a gentle smile on his lips. 

Curling up in bed with Steven sounds perfect to you in this moment and you nod at him.  

It’s all he needs to start moving,  Steven stooping to gather up the blanket that’s pooled by your feet and reaches over your lap for the remote to turn off the telly. The room dims without the brightness of the screen, and Steven takes your hand, pulling you to your feet. He watches your progress surreptitiously, keeping his hand steady over yours like he’s a guide dog worried you’re going to trip over your own feet. 

He doesn’t let go until you’re safely sat down on your side of the bed, and even then he stays standing there with an uncertain look on his face, one hand hovering in mid-air, the other hanging by his side, fingers fidgeting. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Steven finally asks, the words bursting out of him as if he’s unable to hold them in any longer. “What happened today, that is. About Marc, and what you overheard.” 

“Marc…,” you begin, and his name barely even leaves your lips before Steven is already nodding enthusiastically for you to continue. “He sounded really quite tired today, didn’t he? It must be hard for him to keep this up. I don’t know why he thinks he has to keep hiding like this.” 

Steven’s chewing on his bottom lip, and there it is again, the feeling that Steven knows so much more than he’s been telling you. You can practically see the weight of the phrase ‘I can’t tell you right now’ perched heavily on his features. 

You look down at your lap, fingers twisting into the blanket. But maybe, it isn’t hard to guess what it is neither of them are telling you. It’s Occam’s razor isn’t it? All things being equal, the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. And maybe the simple explanation here is that Marc just… doesn’t want to see you. Whatever the reasons, he’s made that much abundantly clear, and you’ve gone and ignored all signs and pushed forward regardless. You told the man you loved him, and he didn’t say anything back. 

“I think that what I said on the phone–me telling him I love him—has probably only made things worse.” 

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as you raise your eyes towards Steven again. 

“I just want him to know it’s okay if he doesn’t feel the same about me. It’s all right if he doesn’t want this or– Or me. He doesn’t have to hide to avoid rejecting me or to spare my feelings. I don’t want him to be alone because of that. Can you… can you tell him that?”

Steven's eyes widens, and he shakes his head vigorously.  

“No. No, no, no, love. That is not what's happening here. That's not– The problem is– Marc is just–" He stumbles over his words a bit before spitting out tartly, "Just a right twit, is what he is." 

You can’t help the grunt-like snort that escapes, and the levity feels good. It’s nice to be able to laugh with Steven, even as glum as you are over the situation that you’re all stuck in. 

Your laugh must’ve pleased him, because he smiles back at you, eyes crinkling adorably. His shoulders relax too, and his hands stop their nervous fidgeting. 

Climbing knee-first onto the bed, Steven sits in front of you. His hand comes to yours, and he settles both your hands on top of your lap.

“Marc isn’t hiding away because he doesn’t feel the same about you.” 

Your face must show your scepticism, because Steven squeezes your fingers between his reassuringly as he continues. 

“Same body and all that, remember? I’m aware enough nowadays that I can usually feel what he feels when I’m not the one fronting.” 

"What does he feel?" You blurt out. It's a question that has been haunting you since your impromptu phone call confession. Longer even.

Steven hesitates, clearly torn, and it’s enough to make you realise what you've just asked of him. How unfair of a question it is.

"Sorry.” You grimace, your shoulders sagging. "I know you don't feel comfortable sharing things about Marc without him here. And I understand. It's okay. Really it is. It's..."

It's only right, isn't it? Of course it’s not for Steven to out Marc’s private matters. And what can be more personal than one’s inner thoughts and feelings?

"Oh, love," Steven says, voice impossibly gentle, “You're right that it's not my place to tell you.”

You nod, looking down at your lap, feeling like your whole chest has deflated. You know it's the right thing for him to do. You’re glad for it even—that he's looking out for Marc when Marc's not here to look out for himself—but you can’t help but feel disappointed all the same.

“Buuuut…” he continues, and your head whips up, searching his face with a tiny sprinkle of hope that perhaps there's still something Steven can share with you. 

“You heard what I said to him in there, right?” Steven prompts, and you nod. His fingers brush over yours, giving you the time to process. 

You try to remember everything you overheard, any other hints you’ve gleaned. How Marc always drinks your “awful” coffee. That he’d clutched onto his jacket after you’ve worn it. The shower. Your fingertips tingle all over again as the image of him in the shower tries to resurface in your mind. 

“Surely it’s obvious by now how Marc feels about you, isn’t it?” 

Steven looks so certain—like he can’t even begin to fathom why there would be any doubt about this—and you desperately want him to be right. Desperately want to think that Marc might care for you in return. 

He says it like all of the pieces of the puzzle are plainly there for you to see. And they should be, you suppose. Marc has shown you so many different sides of himself, and the conversation you overheard revealed more. The problem is that no matter how hard you try to mash the pieces together to make them fit… They don’t.

What Steven’s implying makes sense, and yet here the two of you are, alone. And Marc is still refusing to join you.

Despite everything, the picture before you is still somehow… incomplete. You can’t help but feel that there’s at least one more vital piece of information that you’re still somehow missing. 

“So why is he still hiding, then?” 

And there’s something there, in Steven’s reaction when you ask him. A quick, blink-and-you’d-miss-it flicker towards the direction of the fish tank. The only reflective surface, lit up as it is in the darkness of the room. 

“Steven?” you prompt loudly, fully intent on interrupting whatever tirade Marc is shouting at Steven. You lean forward, squeezing his hand for attention. “What is Marc saying to you? Why won’t he come back?”

Steven’s head whips back in your direction. His mouth is works, but no words come out, and he’s hesitating like he’s trying to decide how much he should tell you. 

“There are things that we—that Marc hasn't told you,” Steven finally says, eyes flicking to the fishtank again, then back to yours, holding your gaze earnestly. “Things that you ought to hear about from him. He doesn’t think he deserves– Well. He thinks that once you know about everything, you’ll walk away from us both. So he’s staying away. I guess in some way, he thinks he’s protecting me again. Buying me some time before it ends."

“That’s ridiculous!” you shout before you can stop yourself. “He can’t possibly know how I’ll react until he’s told me!” 

Your ears burn and you wouldn’t be surprised if there was steam coming out. Why can’t Marc just sit you down and tell you these things instead of making assumptions about what he thinks you would want? What he thinks would be best for you? It’s Steven and the goldfish all over again. 

“And, Steven,”—you look him right in the eye, because you don’t want there to be any doubt about this next part—”I love you. There is nothing Marc could tell me that would make me want to leave you, all right.”

Steven smiles, and even in the dark it’s warm enough to light up the whole room.

"Yes, love, I know.” His smile turns wry, “Like I said… a right twit."

It’s dark. 

Quiet. 

The world isn’t awake yet, and you’re not sure if you are either. You can’t even hear the London traffic outside. There’s too little light in here, and you can’t make out anything except vague shapes in the inviting darkness. You close your eyes again, ready to drift back to sleep. 

Fabric rustles nearby, a soft white noise like the raising of sails. It reminds you of visiting the beach as a child and putting your ear to the opening of a seashell. Everything sounds like it’s underwater.

The surface under you moves, rolling slightly, and then settles again, and it feels like you are out at sea on a small boat. Behind your eyelids, all you see is purple skies dusted with sugared stars. 

Someone is here on the boat with you, warm and sturdy against your side. For a moment or two, drunk on sleep as you are, you don’t quite know where you are or who the person is. All you know is that you feel happy and safe with them. 

The boat rocks again, the surface under you shifting, and the warmth moves away. You want it back. Before you can reach out, the soft weight covering you shifts like a wave, dragging against your hip as it rises up over your torso before settling again, tucked snugly under your chin. 

There are quiet, almost careful footsteps on wooden planks. Then the clink of metal like chains being dragged across the floor. 

It’s all so familiar somehow. 

Didn't there used to be a time when you'd often find yourself like this? Drowsy and half-conscious, pulled towards awareness by the quiet sounds of someone moving next to you, but too far under to fully wake? 

When did it stop?

Oh. Right. When Marc disappeared. 

This must be a dream then. Your brain processing and recycling old memories. Why else would you be out on the open sea? 

The noises stop. 

You can feel the moment drift, pulled away by the currents, but you’re not ready to wake up yet. There’s a long silence, where the dream threatens to slip beneath the inky depth of a wave. 

Squeezing your eyes firmly shut, you try to let yourself float gently on the current, hoping you can relax and prolong this dream. 

The surface you’re resting on dips, and something settles onto your shoulder. A solid, comforting weight. You know this feeling. It’s Marc’s hand, and it inspires the same feeling of safety it did last time, the last time you and Marc were together in person, after you'd cried yourself into exhaustion and he'd agreed to let you fall asleep in his bed. 

It feels nice. More than nice. It feels right.

You nuzzle your cheek into billowing warmth surrounding you that feels like a soft pillow and smells of fresh laundry detergent and coffee. You inhale deeply, sighing contently at the scent, trying to enjoy it while it lasts. 

You don’t want to give this up.

The weight lifts from your shoulder, and you almost rise up in protest, but something sweeps softly across your forehead. Those gentle fingertips, brush the hair from your eyes before coming to linger on your cheek. 

It's a bit funny, isn’t it? A bit cruel even, of your subconscious to conjure up a scenario where Marc’s touching your cheek tenderly like this. After all, isn’t this what you’d thought he might do that night? What you’d wanted him to do, even if you hadn’t known it then? To cup your cheek in his strong, warm hand; to hold you like you're precious to him, beloved, the same way that Steven does?

Marc’s hand moves away again, replaced by the gentle brush of soft lips and bristly stubble against your temple. It’s a barely-there touch, so light and fleeting that you might have imagined it, yet everything inside you aches like a tender bruise. Your skin tingles with an echo of lingering warmth.

You don’t dare to move; barely dare to breathe for fear that you’ll wake yourself up. Your chest constricts with a bittersweet longing that feels large enough to bury you whole. 

"I love you too," his quiet voice says, filling the silence.

Warmth blossoms in your stomach, pouring and pouring through you until you feel filled to the brim with happiness. You think you would be content to stay here, in this safe, quiet space, just basking in his loving presence forever.

For long moments, you do, sinking into the feeling of being loved by this grumpy, stubborn, confusingly gentle man.

Then you hear the heavy sigh.

"That's why I can't come back," he says, voice quiet, resigned, “I need you to be safe. And happy. I’ll make sure of that.”

The sea rises as his weight lifts away from you. The whole of the boat shifts unsteadily beneath you, tilting with the tumultuous waves. Set adrift by the unexpected and unwelcome turn the dream has taken, you’re convinced that the boat is going to tip over and capsize. That you’ll slip into the cracks between the planks of the deck and fall into the abyss, never to be seen again.

You reach out to grab the railing, trying to steady yourself. But where you expected a wooden ledge, hard and wet from seawater, your fingers grasp onto something soft and warm instead. It gives way easily under the grip of your hands, like cotton. Like sheets. 

Still you hold on tightly, bracing yourself for the inevitable descent, and then…

Nothing.

Nothing happens. You’re still on steady ground. Still surrounded in the stillness of the dark night. The only sound is that of soft footsteps moving away and then the unmistakable click of the front door. 

Wait, what kind of dream is this?

Your eyes fly open, and you’re greeted to the sight of the wooden planks, mostly lost in shadow. The bottom of the deck? Are you in the ship’s hold? 

No, it’s the  lowered ceiling over Steven's bed. You’re in his flat.

There’s an ache in your shoulder from having rested on it too long, and you force yourself upright. Your eyelids feel crusty and dry, as though a desert has sprung up behind them overnight. They sting as you blink, wanting to seal closed again. 

Are you awake now? Or is this just another part of a dream? Ten seconds from now, will you find yourself back down on the mattress, forcing yourself to open your eyes all over again?

It’s dark in here, but that tells you nothing. In wintertime, dark can mean 5pm or 7am or anything in between. Turning to the side of the bed, you pat at the nightstand until you find your watch and raise it to your face, squinting in the darkness to make out the dials. 

Eight-thirty? That can’t be right. You and Steven fell asleep well past eight last night, and it’s too dark outside to already be eight in the morning. You reach over to the small lamp, holding the face of it up to the dim light. The arms counting the seconds is taking much longer than a second to hobble forwards. It’s desperately trying to tick along but it’s not doing a great job at keeping time accurately. 

You really need to fix the bloody thing. Or better yet, get a new one. Everything about it is falling apart. Still you fasten it to your wrist by habit before you move to get out of bed. 

With a heavy sigh, you dip one foot onto the floor, and hiss out an involuntary breath at the chill of it. Your shoulders clutch at the quilt tugging it closer around your shoulder.

Wait, this is…

Real.

The biting cold is definitely real. Not a dream; not your imagination. As fantastical as your dreams can sometimes be, your subconscious wouldn't have the attention to detail to replicate the energy bill crisis. 

Turning your head, your eyes drift to Steven’s side of the bed where he fell asleep curled up next to you. Except, he’s not there anymore. 

You reach out your hand, resting it on the spot of the mattress where he would have been lying. 

Still warm and toasty. 

He must’ve gotten up mere moments ago. The door to the loo is open and dark, so Steven’s not in there. He’s not anywhere, and Steven wouldn’t have left the flat without telling you. Must’ve been Marc then, gone wandering off into the night again.

Your neck prickles.

And all of a sudden you’re wide awake, realisation slamming into you like a runaway lorry.

Oh bloody hell, that wasn’t a dream. It was real. 

Marc was really here. 

He really– 

Oh god!

Shoving the comforter away, you leap to your feet. The cold draft in the room punches the air out of your lungs, but you ignore it and focus on trying to find your clothes and dress as quickly as possible. In your haste, you ricochet off one of the bookcases and have to clumsily pat things back into place to avoid an avalanche of Steven’s mess, picking the first pair of boots that is within reach and your coat. Then you’re out of the front door with a loud slam behind you. 

~ Continue ~

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

[drthugitout]

My ver of dream :00000 AND RANTS ABT MY AU

I ws going for a more princesssy vibe if ykyk if ya like dream do u wanna have more hc on my au in stuff

So a lil rant, but this ver of dram takes place ofc after the whole being trapped n stone thing passses but more in the mist of trying to save his brother, not knowing that he’s already dead ((couldn’t be me type shi.))

He’s way more trusting and open arms meaning he could eager hurt easily, even if your mean he just assume he need to try harder to make you happy or to trust him n vice versa.

He’s also just not good with helping ppl who don’t want to be helped which his can never understand especially with people like killer or early on cross and even sometimes ink.

He can’t read. I mean he can read but not to the best.

Dawg hates getting treaeated like a child, he’s not a child he’s an adult man, yes trapped in stone for a long time sucks and he dose have some problems with not getting a lot of adult topic but prefers for them to get explained and not gatekeeped, with that in some ways even core could be considered more mature then him ((not like they aren’t though))

He gets wat to excited for missions but it’s not jus him so do ink and swap that dose change though

He’s not above overworking himself for the greater good no matter what it is.

He’s scared of going blind, random but it makes sine seeing as he was practically Lind for 500 years trapped in some weird purgatory.

Yes he try’s to make every one happy but if there’s really nothing he can do he won’t keep trying to make you better n be near your negative ahh.

Sometimes British.

His magic is sometimes hard to control as ink describes it he’s ’rusty’ training with him and swap so they all can up there strategy’s

Continuing the theme of the last hc of this au, he hates fighting especially and of corse against nightmare, from his eys he got stuck in a endless loop of nothingness for years only to wake up the the sweet kinda kid he knew as his brother know the most well known asshole across the world, along with getting teased and pushed during battle against nightmare for nights own sadistic personal gain, AND HE JUS LETS IT SLIDE BCZ HE WANTS HE BROTHER BSCK it actually hands to be stud dyed how overlooked that is.

He can fly, to some existent. Nobody is truly sure how?! But he can.

Trap rap scares him like that aggressive stuff ((I also don’t like it I LIKE MY RAP CATCHY N MUISCAL NIT HEADACHE RACING)) He also don like hardcore rock

The king along with his right hand men. ((Ink and swap)) along with core

His main friends are just the main sanses besides the bad guys.

Loves cosplayer n dress up

But HATEDSSSSSS holloween

To scared to accept his friends as family dispute how close they act the fact they sometimes live together feed each other and share clothes, I luv them<33

Hes open to showing affection in almost every way so yes he dose so time give ppl kisses on the cheeks and hugs and say how much he loves them bcz ipit brightens there day.

Gets annoying headaches from nightmares voice mainly when he yells, it just brings back pain and damn, that sucks. Smh smd

He’s seen as royalty but hates getting treated like that as he feels like he shouldn’t be looked highly in for what he dose ((mainly because he feels like he should be able to do more, and hates that he can’t help everyone mainly because of his childhood))

lowkey fuck them villagers.

Cusses n it catches ppl of guard but for him it’s not shown as bad at all

Says some things that would get him canceled but doesn’t know that so he has to get explained that

One when angered he best nms ahh n once night left came to the realization of what he did n cried, ink swap and pretty much everyone were so proud though.

Everyone is his best friend

513 ((A GROWN MAN))

Actually scared of octopus/ squid’s ect. Like when he would cry cuz nightmare scares the fuck out of him. ((He actually got over his fear a bit with freshs parasite

Sleeps in dirt, a weird calming thing for him especially since he like to sleep in the sun. I dunno his ass weird but yeah needs sunlight like a plant.

Swap carries him around somtimes I dunnod I jus though that was sweet

Also wears anything, this goes for slot of the skellys n my aus but he would wear the most gorgeous ball room dress ever n never bat an eye.

A rly good singer. Who can play the piano kinda sometimes.

Hates wearing headphones or annoying boarding noises.

For some reason he dependent on helping cross mainly him because of how bad he feels but how much he relates to him especially after that one battle with nm around when he gets closer to cross n more open to the fact most ppl suck. He stops being less of a bitch.

Seen as the leader even though swap would make a better one out the three

Along with his sleep he doesn’t have the best eating habits swap of then haveing to help him out and vice versa as they love overworking them selfs

The thought of a muiltverse overwhelmed him. A lot. ((Cuz ur saying I gotta make allll these ppl happy? Damn.))

WEAKER BECAUSE THERE ARE WAY MORE NEGATIVE AUS THEN THERE SRE POSTIVE PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT NIGHT HAS A HARSH ADVANTGE

his smiles contagious.

Ngl the drawing kinda gives “I will fight n the name of Rose Quarts n every thing that she believed in.” Very Steven universe coded though.

Can’t flirt or take a romantic hint

Pretty gender neutral

He pokey prob likes gross food btw like nuts, ew.

His highest priority is children as he projects on the highly.

((Note I came up with half up these from the top of my head, I don know hc were so easy, n I don even like dream like that))

That’s most of my hc but yeah there less silly fun ones n most jus to do with his character n my au.

Uhhh he likes frank ocean.