#i can only assume that the asks beforehand were coming from a place of defense so they were evidently emotionally charged

[gothiccat69]

Sorry mate, misunderstood.

I'm glad I could explain clearly enough for you to understand.

I don't want another very long post, so I'm putting everything else I have to say in the tags.

[votestaynight]

5th day "New life"/6th day "BLADE" (scene 1)

That guy――― I'll ask about Tohsaka's Servant, Archer. Saber beat him with one blow, but that was a surprise attack, and his strength is unknown.

"Hey Saber. About Archer… have you noticed anything about him?"

"Archer? …No, I know no more than you do. It seems I am superior in simple battle, but I have not experienced his abilities nor his Noble Phantasm. He is not one to look lightly upon just because we have defeated him once."

"…I see. Well, it really was only an instant. And, well…" …Back then. When Saber attacked him, there was something strange about that moment.

I guess you could say it was a surprise attack that wasn't. I think that red knight sensed Saber's presence beforehand. But he froze when he saw Saber and couldn't react to Saber's attack.

"…Hey, Saber. Do you think he knows you? I feel that he took your blow that time because he was surprised by you yourself, and not by the attack."

"―――I see. That is understandable. As he is an archer, it is only natural for him to be inferior to me in hand-to-hand combat. But still, he was too weak at that time. I was guessing that he was not able to use his power due to some external factor―――"

"Right? And I've seen him fight Lancer. Archer didn't go on the offensive, but his defense was out of this world. For him to take your first blow, I can only assume there was something wrong with him."

"…Does that mean he went easy on me?" She must be angry at him for going easy on her, rather than at being able to beat him easily, as she glares at an enemy who isn't here.

"―――Fine. After our collaboration with Rin is over, I will make him regret insulting me." "…! Uh, well, I don't think he went easy on you on purpose, so I don't think there's any reason to hold a grudge…" I find myself defending Archer.

"…? Are you saying you can forgive Archer's act? No, it rather seems like you are protecting him. …I think it is unlikely, but would you have preferred Archer as your Servant…?"

"N-No way…! Frankly, I dislike him. I've never talked to him, but I could instinctively tell when I saw him from a distance that I wouldn't get along with him."

"That is good. It was needless worry. I am relieved, Shirou." "…Geez. I'm the one that's surprised. But why are you relieved by such a thing? Is it that good for me to dislike Archer?"

"…You are right. It is certainly strange. Oh, it is probably because of our compatibility. I am a Servant that specializes in hand-to-hand combat, and Archer specializes in ranged combat. If you were compatible with Archer, that would mean you were not compatible with me. If that was the case, we could not fully utilize our powers."

Saber nods, concluding that it must be why she is relieved. "…I see. I guess that's how it works…" Anyways, there's no information on Archer. We still don't know which hero he is nor what kind of Noble Phantasm he has.

"Then, about one of the others…" "Hold on, Shirou. Someone has entered the gate of this place."

"Eh, you can sense such a thing…? What, it's this time already!? Crap, Sakura's probably back!" I quickly stand up.

I hear the sound of the doorbell from the entrance, "Excuse me." I can hear Sakura's voice.

"Saber, I'm sorry, but…" "I know. I will return to the room, so please do not be concerned about me." Saber leaves for her room.

And in her place… "I'm home. Well done, you came home early like I asked you to." Tohsaka is holding a grocery bag and…. "Excuse me, Senpai. It's rare for you to be home this early." Sakura comes in, smiling happily.

"All right, preparations are perfect. Then let's begin." Tohsaka shouts and goes into the kitchen. Sakura looks at her worriedly. "Senpai…? Um, about dinner preparation…"

"Oh, it's Tohsaka's turn today, so you don't have to worry about it. You made breakfast today, so leave the dinner to us. We'll make dinner as long as Tohsaka is here." "Oh… y-yes. If you say so, I will do that." Sakura sits on a cushion obediently. There is a flashy, fiery sound coming from the kitchen, but there's nothing dangerous-looking about Tohsaka's appearance from behind.

"…I guess it's okay to trust her…" So there's no point in staying here. There's Saber to think about, so I should go back to my room until dinner is prepared.

"I'm going to go rest in my room. If Fuji-Nee comes, tell her to prepare the bath herself once in a while." "Ah, yes. Please take your time, Senpai. I will come and get you when dinner's ready."

"Yeah. …Oh, don't forget to knock when you come to my room." It's a little before six o'clock. From the way things are going, it looks like dinner will be at around seven o'clock.

When I get back to the room, Saber is asleep in the room next to mine.

"Man, I thought I could talk to her." I click my tongue and sit on a cushion. "…Hey, what am I saying? I don't even know what I'd talk to her about other than this Holy Grail War stuff." Anyways, didn't I have trouble talking to Saber?

"Oh well. If she's asleep, it's fine." I say that and just stare at the clock. Yesterday's dinner was just me, Saber, and Tohsaka. But today, it'll be five people, including Sakura and Fuji-Nee.

"…Oh, no… Saber can't come." As long as Sakura and Fuji-Nee are there, I can't let Saber out of this room. "―――I wonder if Saber ate breakfast." Saber was nodding while eating dinner last night. Judging from that, I guess it's not like she doesn't need food.

"…I didn't prepare lunch for her. Of course she'll be hungry." Once Sakura and Fuji-Nee go home, I have to warm up dinner and serve it to her. She'll need to eat alone, but that can't be helped―――

"……" Hrm. Imagining Saber eating by herself is really annoying me.

"Shirou, are you awake?" Tohsaka knocks on the door and looks inside.

"Tohsaka? What's up?" "Dinnertime. It's ready, so come along." ―――That time already, huh? I get up and leave the room, glancing at the sleeping Saber.

"Oh, there you are. Hey, look at this stuff! Finally, with Tohsaka-san here, we have someone who can cook Chinese food!" Fuji-Nee is looking excitedly at all the food prepared on the table. Now that she mentions it, the food certainly is Chinese.

On the four big plates are crab with eggs, shredded beef with pepper, some stir-fry of an elegant looking meat I've never seen before with vegetables, and a plate full of steamed meat dumplings.

There are salads on the side plates, and various follow-ups are ready. Put simply, it's the kind of gorgeous dinner Fuji-Nee loves.

"…I'm surprised. I was expecting you to make Western-style dishes." "Oh, she was actually thinking of a Western-style dish, but when I told that her no one at our house cooks Chinese, she said she would."

"―――Why does she have to live her life poking at holes? …? Hey Sakura, you came home with Tohsaka, so did you actually go shopping with her?" "Yes. Tohsaka-Senpai was waiting for me when the archery club finished, so we went grocery shopping on our way back."

"…I see. Wow, you two are closer than I thought." "Yes, we've talked often at school. I don't know why she likes me, but she has been nice to me ever since I entered the school." Wow. She really is a nice Senpai at school.

"Let's quit talking and eat. I'm hungry already." Fuji-Nee sits down happily. "Like she says. Why don't you two sit down too? Chinese food gets really bad when it gets cold." Saying this coldly, Tohsaka sits down as well.

"―――――" I sit down silently. Everyone bows and eats the food.

"―――!" Annoyingly, it's good. I've never cooked Chinese because I thought "it all tastes the same", but this is so good it makes me realize it was just prejudice.

"Wow, this is great! It's been a while since I've had food that makes rice taste this good. Yeah, I'll give you top score on this one!" "Thank you. I am pleased to receive an honest response like that."

"Yes. I have a better opinion of Chinese food now. I'm not good with hot food, but this is really good!" Sakura is happily enjoying the food too.

After watching this with a smile, "―――Fufu." Tohsaka Rin looks at me with an expression of triumph.

"What? You look like you want to say something." "Noooothing. I'm just glad everyone's enjoying the food. Well, one isn't being honest, but that's fun in its own way, so I'll call it good. I understand what it feels like to lose at something you're good at."

"Guh―――I see, then you made me cook last night to gauge my potential!" "Fufufufufu. Yes. Today's lesson is, always hide your potential." She says this happily and starts eating her own food.

Dinner is more lively than I was expecting. Sakura and Tohsaka are a good Senpai and junior, and Fuji-Nee is completely friends with Tohsaka now.

"―――――" Well, I have no complaints about a fun meal. No complaints, but I feel like there's something wrong with all of us eating right now.

"……" I stand up. "Huh? What, Shirou, going to the bathroom?" "No, I forgot something. I'll bring her here, so wait." "―――――" When I leave the living room, Tohsaka is staring at me silently.

I just couldn't take it. That's the only reason. I don't like it when she's in the same house, but alone.

So, before considering the consequences, I grab her hand.

"S-Shirou!? What are you doing all of a sudden…!?" "Just come with me. I'll introduce you to everyone." "Are you insane!? Hold on, this is…"

"I'm taking you because I am sane. Here, let's go. Whatever happens later can be dealt with." "Hey, Shirou…!?"

I grab Saber's hand and take her to the living room.

"Sorry, Tohsaka. Can I add one more?" Tohsaka doesn't object. But Fuji-Nee and Sakura are looking at Saber with astonishment.

"It's a bit late, but let me introduce her. Her name is Saber, and we're going to be taking care of her for a while. As you can tell, she's a foreigner and not used to living in Japan, so please help her with that."

"―――――" There's no reaction from the two. That's only natural, but I don't have enough composure to care about them right now.

"Here, sit here, Saber. It's better to eat with everyone." "That is… certainly more efficient, but I…" "Don't be reserved. After all, you're going to be living together with us from now on. Since we're living in the same house, it's natural to eat together."

"…Yes. If Shirou says so, I will obey."

"You can't d―――"

"YOU CAN'T DO THAAAAAAT!"

"…!!!!" My ears! My ears are ringing!

"What's wrong with you, Shirou!? You bring in not only Tohsaka-san, but a girl like this too? Since when did this place turn into a hotel!?" "W-What? It'll be fine. It's as big as a hotel, so we can lend a room or two. If Tohsaka staying is fine, Saber should be fine too."

"No way! I approve of Tohsaka-san, but I don't know about this stranger! Who is she anyways!?" "Who―――she's a distant relative of mine. She had some problems so she came here, counting on Father."

"I can't believe such a ridiculous story. Even if it were the case, why did she come to your house? There's no way Kiritsugu-san would have an acquaintance in another countr―――" She can't really say that. Because Father was a simpleton who went to foreign countries all the time, he would have more acquaintances overseas than in Japan.

"―――Well, I can't say that, but it's still strange. You, why did you come here?" Fuji-Nee glares at Saber.

"Well, that's…" "You be quiet, Shirou. Um, Saber-san? I'm asking you."

Saber is silent. It's only natural. Saber doesn't have any reason to go along with my lies nor a dexterous enough mind, so she――― "I do not know. I was only doing as Kiritsugu said." ―――Well, I guess she does.

"―――Hm. Kiritsugu-san entrusted Shirou to you?" "Yes. He told me to defend Shirou from all enemies." Quietly. Saber says this with the greatest purity.

…Who could object to that? Even if it's a lie, it's the ultimate truth for Saber herself.

"……" Even Fuji-Nee can't object to those words. ―――But…

She stands up with a frown, glaring at Saber, "…All right. If you say so, I'll test your skill." Fuji-Nee responds strangely.

So. With a sound of wind, Fuji-Nee takes us outside.

"……" She takes the shinai from the wall and glares at Saber. …Well. Just what is our Fuji-Nee thinking about?

"You. You said you'd protect Shirou, right? Then you must be confident in your skills." "―――Are you telling me to take a sword?"

"Yes. I'll approve of you if you're stronger than me. But if you're weaker, I'm sending you back home." "…I do not mind, but what is the purpose of this?"

"I'm the one that's gonna protect Shirou! I'm gonna be by his side until he grows up!" "―――――" It seems Saber doesn't understand what Fuji-Nee is trying to say. Of course, no one else around here does either.

"Sooooo, I don't need anyone weaker than me! If you're stronger than me, you'll be more dependable, right? If that's the case, I can entrust Shirou to you just for a bit." Fuji-Nee plays with her shinai as if she's sulking.

"―――I understand. So I must earn your approval?" "Right. But it's not going to be easy!" Just as she says that, Fuji-Nee rushes at Saber and attacks her with the shinai…!

"Man, Fuji-Nee's being ridiculous!" Not only was that a surprise attack, but she didn't even give Saber a shinai. Are you really a teacher, Tiger!?

"…?" Saber must be surprised by Fuji-Nee's surprise attack as she just stands there distractedly. Fuji-Nee's clever attack to the body strikes―――!

"Huh?" Fuji-Nee tilts her head curiously. …That's only natural. It's strange even for those of us watching, so it must be as strange as the Hanging Gardens of Babylon for Fuji-Nee.

"―――――" Saber is still standing. The difference is, she is now holding the shinai Fuji-Nee was wielding until now.

"Uh… is this real?" I don't know what's real, but it's certainly true.

Saber does not even take a stance. Fuji-Nee doesn't move, standing before Saber. Fuji-Nee is a kendo expert, said to be unmatched. That experience must have made her realize that the person in front of her is on a completely different level.

"…If you want me to take a stance, I will. But you should be skilled enough to understand already." "―――Uhh, hauuuu, hau…" Fuji-Nee backs away unsteadily and drops to her knees.

"The contest is over. Do you approve of me?" "―――Uh, guh…" Fuji-Nee hangs her head and slumps her shoulders. The very moment I think she'll calm down…

"UWAAAAAAAN! "SOME STRANGER TOOK SHIROU AWAY…!"

She starts to cry so loudly that those around her get dizzy.

…In the end, it took two hours to persuade Fuji-Nee. Fuji-Nee said "I want to talk a bit" and went into Father's room for two hours. When she came out, she nodded and said "I guess I have to approve of her", with an unhappy face.

On the other hand, Sakura is silent. It was getting late, so Fuji-Nee ended up walking Sakura home, but Sakura said nothing and merely bowed and went home.

"Then I'll go back to the outbuilding." …Oh. Come to think of it, Tohsaka is like this too.

"…Sorry. I bet you think I did something stupid." "Nope. But what you're doing is extra weight on your mind. If you keep doing such things, you'll end up being unable to move."

Saying good night with a wave, Tohsaka leaves. "―――Sigh." I'm tired. I'll rest early too.

"Hold on, Shirou. I have something to ask you as well." "Hm? What is it?" "Why did you introduce me to everyone? I believe your actions were unnecessary as Rin said." "No reason. I just introduced you because I didn't like it."

"Shirou, that is not an answer. You have to tell me what you didn't like." Saber draws closer. …Was what happened tonight that strange for Saber?

"I don't know. I was just eating and I just didn't like it when I thought about you being alone. If anything, I just thought there'd be fewer secrets if I let Sakura and Fuji-Nee know about you."

"This is meaningless. Rather, it is a disadvantage to let them know of my existence. I can hide myself in this house, so it would have been better if I was just standing by."

"―――" What's better? Is she better off being an outcast while we're all eating?

"―――That's not true. It couldn't be helped because even if it was good for you, Saber, it wasn't good for me. I don't think it's based on reason." Saying so, I avert my gaze from Saber.

"I'm going out to the shed, so go back to the room first. I'll come back after I'm done." "―――――" There's no response. Turning my back on Saber who doesn't seem to agree, I head out to the shed.

I go outside. The quiet yard, lit by the pale moonlight. The winter sky is high, and the stars are clear.

"―――Sigh." I sigh without realizing. Tohsaka is right. I'm certainly contradicting myself.

The me that's trying to go to the shed, avoiding the room Saber's sleeping in. On the other hand, the me that doesn't want to leave Saber alone. Even though I find it hard to deal with Saber as a member of the opposite sex, I can't leave her alone as a human. …It's only natural for Tohsaka to be disgusted with me.

"…Geez. I thought I was only inexperienced at magic, but my mental training is bad as well."

I murmur, looking up into the sky absent-mindedly. ―――The night wears on. Since I'm inexperienced, I can't skip my training. I can only refine myself, believing that I can reach something if I continue my effort.

The next day. After a normal morning, I enter the living room to find a complicated breakfast table.

"Sorry, Sakura. I can't eat butter. Pass me that marmalade over there." "Really? Tohsaka-Senpai, you seemed like you didn't like sweet things." "Nonsense, no such girl exists. It's not that I don't like sugar, but I can't take it. If I let my guard down, I grow where you can't see, so I can only eat sweets once a week."

"…? But you're still eating marmalade, Senpai?" "I eat sugar in the mornings. I have to eat at least a bit, or the backlash later on could get scary." "I see. Even if you eat only twice a day, it will get worse if you eat twice as much." "That's right. …Hey, I wasn't going to say anything, but you eat a lot, Saber. You have a small frame, but you're eating as much as Sakura."

"Is that so? I think I am average. I believe the bread Sakura is eating is much more substantial than mine." "T-That's not true…! You, Tohsaka-Senpai, and I all have two slices of toast." "But the thickness is different. Ours are one centimeter thick while yours are two, so you are eating a lot. You are in your growing period, so it is good to get energy. How about eating not just one but actually finishing your share, Rin?"

"I'm telling you I can't. It's not like I'm Sakura and all the nutrients go to my chest. If I eat a lot in the morning, it'll increase. I usually don't eat breakfast, so I'm compromising already." "…Tohsaka-Senpai, um, please don't talk about that in front of Senpai."

"…Hmm. You say 'it' will increase, but why do you avoid using specific terms, Rin?" "Well, it's about those things you can't see. Oh well, you can see Sakura's, so you can leave her out of this." "S-So please don't talk about it!"

"―――――" I take a bite of the well-done toast. Perhaps my brain just doesn't follow what's going in front of me, but I'm eating toast and not joining the conversation. …Well, the truth is that there's no room for me to cut into the conversation.

"…I guess I didn't need to worry." They seem to have a good relationship for now. Tohsaka is the same as always, and Saber is more open than she was last night. Sakura is… well, she still seems to be a bit resistant to Saber, but it doesn't look like she dislikes her.

"…I'm worried that Fuji-Nee isn't here, but she should be here tonight……" The shock last night must have been a big one. Well, she will probably come and eat dinner, so I'd think she'll have calmed down by then.

Breakfast ends, and I start cleaning up. "Senpai, is it really okay leaving all the cleaning up to you?"

"Yeah, I'll do it. You have a club to go to. There was that incident yesterday, so you should go." "…Yes. Then I'll go on ahead, Senpai."

Sakura bows also to Tohsaka and leaves the living room in a hurry. That leaves the three of us. Which means, once Sakura leaves, the three of us who know the secret remain.

"Then I shall excuse myself as well. Please call for me if you need anything." "See ya, Saber. I'll look after Shirou, so please take care of this place while we're gone."

"Yes. Please take care of Shirou, Rin." Bowing lightly to Tohsaka, Saber returns to her room.

…Well, there's nothing to do here. So she must want to save her energy by sleeping, but……

"…Geez. Does she only think about fighting?" "Of course. You should start to show some willingness or Saber will lose patience with you. Even though her wound isn't healed yet, she's not one to stay quiet forever, right?"

A clicking sound. As she makes a scary comment, Tohsaka turns on the TV.

"―――Hm? This news again." The morning news streams from the TV. I listen to it while washing the dishes in the kitchen. …Well. The content is the same as the news I heard a while ago.

"They're saying there was another gas leak incident over in the Shinto area. …That's stupid. That kind of thing is happening here too." "―――?" Hold on. Did Tohsaka say something really worrying?

"Tohsaka, what do you mean by that?" "It's that the people are weakening with no obvious cause, right? People that have lost consciousness without an obvious cause, carried off to the hospital in a coma. There must be a lot of them by now. There doesn't seem to be a danger in the victims' lives right now, but what happens in the future will depend on what the instigator decides."

"Wha―――" Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Not only in the neighboring town, but over here too? Comas with no cause? Numerous victims? No, the problem is―――

"Tohsaka, are you saying it's the work of another Master?"

"Who else could it be? Please get used to it. You are a Master too, you know." "That's――true. …But, why didn't you tell me before, Tohsaka?"

"This incident isn't as simple. The Master that put up the boundary field at school is third class, but this Master is first class. He isn't killing anyone. He's just storing power by absorbing half of their lives."

"…Well, it is true that the speed is slower, it doesn't break the rules of magi. And there's also no need to push oneself. This Master is stealing the simplest form of magical energy, 'life force', out of people in the city from a place far away."

"A place far away… can this person collect magical energy from such a distance?" "It must be a really skilled magus. Both Shinto and Miyama City. Only great magi can create an 'absorption' that can cover two towns."

"…Or maybe the Master has secured a superior spiritual ground. My father was saying something about a ley line in Fuyuki City, so if one took up a position there, it would be easy to collect life force…"

"…? Hey, Tohsaka." "There weren't any references to it in Father's study, so if there is one, it'll be in the master's room… Oh man, that place is so weird even now, so I'd like to stay away from it if I can. …But then, all I can do is ask Kirei… no, I can't. I can't be in debt to him."

"Tohsaka, hey―――" There's no answer. …It's no good. Tohsaka is immersed in talking to herself.

I reach the school gate with Tohsaka halfheartedly. The front gate has students arriving at school, and the school is starting another normal day.

"―――" But still, there is an odd feel to it. I went through the front gate without noticing it yesterday, but I can certainly sense it if I look for it. …How can I put this… it's so calm that even my instincts go numb.

"…You're right. The air is different from outside. It's like sweet honey." "Oh, that's the way you feel it, huh? …You're unskilled at detecting magical energy, but you might be sensitive to disorders in the world." Tohsaka ponders.

"But sweet honey, huh? Speaking figuratively, like an insectivorous plant? Yeah, that's a good way of putting it." "…An insectivorous plant… that image is really bad."

"Really? I don't think your instinct is off. Because in this school, everyone will be eaten alive when the lid of the boundary field closes."

"―――!" She sees through the aspect I didn't say, and I gasp. "As I thought. You're fun because you're easy to understand." "Whatever. It's not fun for me."

"Don't get mad. Don't worry because I know what you want to say. You're thinking you don't want to involve the students here, and I don't want to use this place as a battlefield. So there's only one thing to do, right?"

"……" These are words to test me. Tohsaka is telling me… The Holy Grail War―――the "enemy" I said I will fight against, the Master who is willing to drag in innocent people in order to win, is at this school.

"I know. We have to find the Master who constructed this boundary field and do something about it. And if he isn't willing to remove the boundary field, we'll just beat him." "That's right. I'm glad you understand."

"Well then, I'll look for whoever constructed the boundary field, so you go and check suspicious areas. I already looked around, but there might have been something I missed. You seem to be good at finding these points, so I'll let you do it." Tohsaka waves her hand and runs into the school building.

"Hey―――Even if you say that, I have no idea…! What kind of places are suspicious ones, Tohsaka!?" "To put it in your words, somewhere where the air is sweet! Just look for a place where the honey is really sweet!" She yells back, running.

And Tohsaka disappears into the school building. "…What is she? Running away suddenly like that, I don't get what she's thinkin―――"

"Oh." The bell for homeroom rings.

"I-I see―――hey, why didn't she tell me that if she knew…!?" I hold my bag and run full speed. After that incident yesterday, who knows what Fuji-Nee will say if I'm late.

It's lunchtime. Even though it's only a temporary release from classes, the students run about the school busily.

"…All right. I won't look suspicious walking around now." I finish lunch in a few minutes and go out into the hallway. This is no time to complain that I've never done anything like this before. The battle has already begun. So I have to find the "suspicious places" Tohsaka was talking about in my own way.

"…I guess I should start with places where there aren't many people." ―――Well. An hour until lunch break ends… I hope I can get good results out of this―――

After checking through the school building, I go outside just in case. There's nothing wrong with the ground or behind the school building, but this area is too different.

"―――Could it be here too?" …There were several strange places inside the school building as well. Unpopular places like behind the stairs or within empty classrooms. But this place is different. Far from nobody coming here, this is a place people come every day.

"…Why didn't I notice? Talking about strangeness, this place is the strangest―――" I mutter, grasping my chest. …This place is somehow suffocating. The thick wind and moist air aren't just strange. No, once I notice this smell, I actually feel like throwing up.

"Tohsaka was saying that there's a basis point for a boundary field. I don't know how many there are, but this must mean the first basis point is around here…" Then there should be some sign of it.

… …… ……… …It's no good. As I have no skill in detecting magical energy, there's no way I can see the sign that's constructing the boundary field.

"…Phew." I guess it can't be helped. I'll go and tell Tohsaka about this place and――― "What, are you looking for something, Emiya?" "―――!" I turn around at the sudden voice. Standing in front of the deserted archery dojo is―――

"―――Shinji." "Hey. What a coincidence. I came because I had business in that area too… did you happen to see it?" With a grin, Matou Shinji asks this happily.

"…See… what? There's nothing here." "Oh, so you did see it. …I see, so that's why you were with Tohsaka. That's right, it's more efficient to join up with other Masters." "―――! Shinji, you…"

"Don't guard yourself too much Emiya. It's you and me, let's not hide anything from each other. I don't know who you have. But you were forced into this ugly role of Master too, right?"

Shinji states it clearly without holding anything back. That he, Matou Shinji, is also a Master.

"…Could it be? You're a Master, Shinji?" "That's what I'm telling you. Oh, but don't get it wrong. I don't intend to fight with anyone. Well, I'll certainly retaliate with deadly force if I'm attacked, but I won't do anything when nothing's done to me. See, I'm like you in that regard, right?"

Shinji laughs. From his words, there seems to be no doubt that Shinji's a Master, but―――

"Well, I'm also surprised to find out that you're a Master. Let's call us equal in that regard. So, do you want to discuss something?" "Discuss… I don't mind, but discuss what?"

"About what we do now. Like I said earlier, I have no intention of fighting. But others aren't the same, right? So I feel uneasy unless I prepare for future misfortunes. It's troubling alone, but don't you think something would be possible with the two of us?"

… So in other words, Shinji is asking me to cooperate with him?

"Well, let's not talk here. We don't know if someone might overhear us, so let's go somewhere else. Hmm… yeah, my place would be good. Tohsaka won't be able to notice and it's safe even if we're attacked."

"What are you talking about? Lunch break is almost over, so if you have―――" "Are you stupid? We can skip classes. Let's go, Emiya. I'm happy to know that you're a Master, so don't alienate me too much."

"I can't do that. People would be suspicious if we skipped classes." "Damn, you're really stubborn… oh, I see! You're right, people would normally stay safe!"

"But don't worry, I won't attack you no matter what. See, do I look like someone who would attack you from behind?"

"…? Oh―――I see. You're right, I certainly can't just follow you."

"…. Well, it's all right. You have a Servant with you too. I won't pick a fight against such a dangerous opponent."

…? Does Shinji think I have Saber with me? No, that's wrong―――Shinji couldn't see a Servant in spirit form. That's why he's wrongly guessing that I have Saber with me right now.

"Let's just go. It'll be no good if Tohsaka finds us." Saying that, Shinji starts to walk away. "―――――" …I guess I have to follow him. I'm interested in what Shinji has to say, so I'll skip the afternoon classes.

We go up the hill road. The Western-style houses, on the opposite side to my house. I guess Tohsaka's house is at the top, but I recall that Matou's house is on the back, as if avoiding public eyes.

"―――――" It's an amazing building as always. I came here to play a few times during middle school, but I haven't even been near it recently. I haven't been invited since I became estranged from Shinji, and most of all, Sakura didn't like me coming to this house.

…Even though it's daytime, it's dim inside the house. This building is made so that sunlight cannot enter it, and there aren't many lights in here. I'm exaggerating, but you'd walk into the wall if you're not used to this place.

"Emiya, this way. I'm in the living room." I don't know when he went in, but I can hear Shinji's voice from the inner room. Even though it's been a year, my body still remembers this place and I make my way to the living room without getting lost.

There's no kind of light in the living room either. The curtains are closed, and the sunlight is blocked off. There are no artificial lights and the living room is in the dark.

"Emiya, over here." I look over in the direction of the voice. There is Shinji sitting in a chair, and――― ―――A figure of a woman like crystallized darkness.

"Let me introduce her. This is my Servant, Rider." "――――――――" I feel a chill. It's so bad that the back of my neck hurts like it's been slashed.

"…Weren't we going to talk with just the two of us, Shinji?" I back up a bit and manage to say that.

"Oh no, it's just a precaution. I'd be scared if you just came and attacked me, so I have to have Rider by my side." Stretching his hand out, Shinji touches his black Servant―――Rider. He caresses from her waist down to her thighs, as if tasting them.

"―――――" Rider does not move at all. She stands there like a statue, and keeps watch on me with her covered eyes. …It can't just be an illusion that it feels like she sees even my fingertips shivering.

"You're like this even when you've invited someone? Aren't you being a little too wary, Shinji?" "Come on, it was just a joke. I know you can't do anything like that. But your Servant is a different story. Even I had trouble training mine. It's not unusual for a Servant not to obey its Master, so think of this as just keeping a small check on things."

…A Servant that doesn't obey its Master? Certainly, Rider in front of me is different from Saber. Saber is quiet, but not coldhearted. But I can only feel coldness from Rider.

A human lacking humanity. A black figure like discolored blood. She doesn't seem like a Servant or a heroic spirit. She's so inorganic with no sense of lightness.

"…Rider's a way to keep a check on my Servant? I don't feel too good about that." "Sorry. I'm just a novice, so I'm not experienced like you are. Forgive me for that." "…Heh. It's not like I'm experienced either."

"Is that so? Then you should summon yours too. We would understand each other better that way, and it's more fair too. Yeah, that'll be great! Hey Emiya, I showed you mine, so you show me yours."

…So Shinji is wrongly guessing that Saber is with me. But there's no need to correct him on that.

"I refuse. If you're going to keep me in check, that's fine. This should be enough if we're here just to talk." "…What's with that? Hey, I'm saying I want to see it. I don't know what you're being a snob about, but shouldn't you listen to me?"

"Then our conversation's over. I didn't come here to show you my Servant. If that was your plan, I'm going home now." "Damn――all right. You're useless as always." Shinji comments discontentedly and leans back in his chair.

"All right, let's get to it. Well, there's only one thing I want to talk about. …Like I said before, do you want to collaborate with me, Emiya? I became a Master, but I don't know about this Holy Grail War thing. I want to cooperate with someone I know rather than staying on my own."

"Hold on. I want to ask you something too before that. I'll answer your question after that." "What, you want to know why I became a Master?" I nod. As far as I know, Shinji isn't a magus. I have to know how someone like that became a Master, or I can't cooperate at all.

"I heard Masters have to be magi as a basic prerequisite. Even though I'm inexperienced, I know a bit of magic. I summoned my Servant by accident and became a Master after forming a contract, but… did you summon your Servant by accident and get dragged into this Holy Grail War too?"

If that's the case, we're the same. I won't easily be able to refuse his proposal of cooperation if that's the case――

"I see. You became a Master by accident, huh? …I see, I see. Good, that makes it more understandable." Shinji smiles delightedly.

"Well, I guess it's similar in my case. The fact that I became a Master against my will is the same. ――But don't get me wrong. I knew what a Master was, and I've known about the Holy Grail War for a long time. The Matou family isn't like your family. We're a respected lineage of magi."

"―――!?" The Matou is a lineage of magi…!? "What, I never heard about that…!? Hold on. Then, you and――" His sister Sakura knows magic too…!?

"Calm down, Emiya. The Matou family is a family of magi, but we're already dead. I guess the ancestors of the Matou family came to this land with Tohsaka's family, but didn't adapt to the land here. Down the generations, what's that thing, the Magic Circuit? That thing faded, and by the time I was born, the Matou blood had returned to that of an ordinary person's. So members of the Matou family aren't magi. We're just a family that used to be magi."

"You guys were magi… then, only the knowledge remains?" "Yeah, unfortunately. But even if we don't have Magic Circuits, that doesn't change the fact that we're studying magic. It was easy to find out about the Masters and the Holy Grail War with a bit of research. I'm able to relax even after suddenly being chosen as a Master, because of the teachings of the previous generations."

"―――" …I see. I became a Master and understood the Holy Grail War because of Tohsaka. Similarly, Shinji understood his situation because of the literature passed down his family.

"So in other words, you were taught just the knowledge of magic. …Then, did Sakura learn magic as well?"

"Huh? Geez, you really don't know anything, do you? Look, it probably doesn't matter to you since your family is a hybrid, but a magus of an old lineage only teaches his secret arts to one. If there are two children, you only make the eldest son the successor.

"You get less power if you separate something into two, right? Magi place ten magics into one crystal and leave them behind to create a stronger blood. We don't make exceptions just because someone is from our family.

"So a family of magi doesn't teach magic to anyone other than their successors. It's common for the children who aren't chosen as the successor to be raised without knowing that their family studies magic, or they are to be given out for adoption.

"I see―――thank God, then." I'm glad. Sakura is a girl who should stay in a peaceful world without magic. I can't let her get involved in a battle that forces you to kill others without reason.

"Well, now you know, Emiya. Even though I became a Master, I'm not experienced with magic. You're… let's see, you say you can use a bit, but your knowledge is that of an amateur. See, don't you think we're a good combination? Let's cooperate since both of us became Masters against our will."

"…I don't mind that. But just to make sure, it's just to protect yourself, right Shinji?" "No. There's that, but we have to attack the enemy right in front of us first. It seems she considers me her enemy."

"…Considers you an enemy…? You mean, Tohsaka?"

"Of course! She wouldn't be so unkind to me if that weren't the case…! …Look, she's the type that won't forgive other Masters. You should know that by now if you've been with her. I don't know what the reason is, but she lets her guard down when she's with you. I don't know why, but that perfect girl has her guard down! ――Don't you see that it's a great opportunity to defeat her?"

Saying that, Shinji puts out his hand as if asking for a handshake.

"―――――" …I won't cooperate with such an approach. No, I can't. If Shinji really wants to protect himself, he should talk to Tohsaka too and not just me. And――

"Shinji. Do you know that there's someone who supervises the Holy Grail War?"

"Yeah, that priest at the church, I hear. They say he's a survivor of the last war, but I didn't go see him because he seems annoying. I'm not a magus, so it's a bother to be forced to follow the magi's rules."

"―――――" That's contradictory. If he wants to really stop fighting, he should go and see Kotomine first.

"―――Shinji. Do you know about the boundary field set up at our school?" "I know. I can't tell, but Rider told me. What about it?"

"…Isn't it your doing? Tohsaka said it was the work of a Master at our school."

"No, it's not me. There's certainly another Master at that school, so it must be him." "…? Tohsaka said there was only one other."

"You trust Tohsaka too much. Well, putting that aside, Tohsaka is wrong. The presence she can feel is that Magic Circuit thing, right? Then I'm not a Master she can perceive, because I don't have a Magic Circuit to begin with. From the beginning, we're people that go under the radars of the normal Masters."

…I see. The presence of a magus, the presence of the Command Spell… they are both things activated by magical energy.

Then―――if someone without magical energy becomes a Master, the only way to identify them is to actually see them. Tohsaka's method of searching for people with magical energy would not only overlook Shinji as a Master, but she wouldn't even notice him at all. It's because Shinji does not have the presence of a Master that Tohsaka is searching for.

"…I see. Then there must be another Master that Tohsaka is sensing." I should go home and warn Tohsaka about that. Then there's no reason to stay here anymore.

"…! Hey Emiya, what about the cooperation thing?"

"I refuse. I won't participate in beating Tohsaka or anything like that. First of all, she hasn't done anything. Eventually… I will end up fighting her, but she can be trusted right now, and I want to trust her."

"…Heh, I think it'll be too late when something happens. But if you say so, fine. I'll wait and see."

Surprisingly, Shinji seems to have given up. He doesn't try to stop me from going home, and he doesn't try to make Rider attack me.

…He's a really difficult person. He acts like this, but he seems to try to be fair in his own way.

"…Hey Shinji. I might be persistent, but does Sakura know about you?"

"She doesn't, and I have no intention of telling her. I'm the successor of the Matou family. I'll let her be my sister and not know anything."

"―――That'll help. I want Sakura to stay like that."

"Huh―――. I see. If you're worried about Sakura that much, I should thank you as her brother. …All right then, I'll tell you something good, Emiya. I don't know who it is, but one of the Masters is nesting at the temple."

"―――!? Temple… you mean Ryudou Temple!?" "Yeah. As my Servant puts it, there's a witch up there. She is supposedly collecting souls on a large scale, so it'll be a problem if we don't do something about it fast."

"Wha―――" If that's true, that is the fifth one. And if that one is collecting souls on a large scale, there's a high probability that it is the cause of the story on this morning's news.

"That's all. Well Rider, see him off. Emiya is on our side, so don't hurt him." So ordered by Shinji, Rider approaches me.

"Uh… no, that's…"

"Don't be so reserved. You're my responsibility until you leave the house, so it'll be troublesome if you got hurt. Oh Rider, you only have to see him to the front door. He has nothing to do with me once he exits, so treat him well until then." Shinji retreats into the back room.

"……" I look silently at Rider.

"……" Rider, covered in black clothes, doesn't say anything. But surprisingly―――looking at her closely, I notice that she has clean features.

The long purple hair reaching to the ground only reminds me of the smell of blood, but at the same time, I understand it's really beautiful. …She's wearing this outfit, so it's embarrassing to directly stare at her, but can it be that her outfit doesn't match her face?

To put it into a phrase, she's a shrine maiden covered in blood. That contradictory appearance of one who is both holy and evil is this Servant called Rider.

"…But…" Are all heroic spirits beautiful? I think so while looking up at Rider's face out of curiosit―――hey, Rider's tall for a girl. Rider must be at least 170 centimeters tall.

"…Hmm" This is no time to calmly observe Rider. It's a problem to be alone with Rider, so I should get out of this place quickly.

Rider really follows me out to the entrance. …I wonder. She doesn't feel alive, but she might answer me if I talk to her.

[blazingparker]

tony finds out that peter wants to propose. marriage = very scary thing for tony. tony panics. peter mishears and thinks the issue is that tony doesn’t want to marry HIM. [misunderstandings + breaking up then making up + angst w/ a happy ending].

thanks sooo much for this prompt, anon!!!! i changed it a little so they didn’t break up but they do have a big fight and make up. It’s also a little shorter than i wanted since i can’t really type still due to my wrist injury but i didn’t want to make you wait any longer. i really hope you enjoy this!

read it on ao3!

---

But Your Fears Get in the Way

Peter was going to propose.

Holy shit, Peter was going to propose.

It wasn’t like Tony had meant to overhear, okay? It wasn’t his fault Peter had assumed Tony was in the lab, not in the living room when he got back from patrol.

“Yeah, Ned, I got the ring. No, I don’t know when yet. I’ll let you know. I just-I want it to be perfect, you know?”

Tony had reacted wonderfully, if you must know. He most certainly did not pretend to be asleep on the couch so Peter wouldn’t know he’d overheard, and he definitely did not avoid his boyfriend as much as possible in the following days. It was a shitty move, and Tony knew it, but he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t marriage material. What he and Peter had - it worked. If they changed it, if they got engaged, Tony would ruin it. He knew that, and he needed Peter to know that before he lost the best relationship he’d ever had because of his own inability to stop fucking up.

It was just a question of how to bring it up to Peter without breaking his heart and ruining everything anyway. Which was why he’d asked Rhodey to come over and help him out. Tony wasn’t the greatest with words and knew he needed to practice with someone before going out and essentially tell his boyfriend ‘Hey, I overheard you the other day. Sweet gesture, but I’m not marriage material.’

“Tony.”

Tony looked up from the Iron Man gauntlet he was in the middle of repairing to find his best friend standing in the middle of the lab, looking very irritated.

“Hey honey bear,” Tony snarked, sitting back in his chair and setting his tools down.

“You do realize you asked me to come over here, right?” “Course I do.”

“Well, then maybe next time you could put down your toys the first time I call your name instead of the fifth.” Rhodey gave Tony a little smirk and crossed the room, sitting down in a chair across from Tony. The genius ran a hand over his face, looking genuinely apologetic - a rare occurrence for him.

“Sorry, Rhodey. I just-this has got me really shaken up,” he admitted. Rhodey tried not to let his shock show, knowing Tony would shut down and shut him out if he looked like he might be mocking him or not taking him seriously.

“You said Peter wants to propose?” He asked, Tony nodding to confirm the information he’d shared over the phone. Rhodey whistled lowly and blew out a breath, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s big stuff, man.”

“I know it’s big stuff!” Tony almost yelled, reining it back in at the unimpressed look the other man shot in his direction. “I just-I can’t let him. I can’t let him propose. But if I stop him beforehand, I’ll break his fucking heart and he’ll know I overheard him the other night. If I say no, that’d be even worse. If I say yes, I’m just prolonging the inevitable break-up.”

“Why would it be an inevitable break-up? Peter loves you. You’ve been together for four years, Tony. That’s plenty of time for someone to decide their relationship is or isn’t going to work and then act accordingly. Clearly he loves you a whole lot if he’s bought the ring and everything like you said.” Rhodey tried to keep any judgment out of his tone, wanting to understand and not aggravate his friend.

“Because that’s what I do!” Tony exclaimed, standing up so fast his chair rolled backwards across the lab floor. “I ruin relationships. It’s honestly a fucking miracle this has lasted this long, you saw how Pepper and I were before.” Rhodey didn’t disagree - Tony and Pepper had been a hot mess. “I ruin relationships, but I haven’t yet with Peter! So everything needs to just-just stay the same so that I can continue to not fuck it up. For once in my life.”

There was silence after that, Tony’s chest heaving as he breathed in heavily and tried to calm himself down. Rhodey stood from his chair as well, crossing the room to his best friend and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Tony almost seemed on the verge of tears, something he’d only seen a handful of times before.

“I don’t think you could ruin what you and Peter have,” Rhodey said, holding up a hand when Tony immediately opened his mouth to argue. “But if you’re that worried about it, tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Tony asked, and Rhodey took a second to think about how to phrase his next words. He thought Tony’s fears about ruining his and Peter’s relationships were uncalled for, but they didn’t come from nowhere. There was real fear there that needed to be addressed. Both men were so deeply engrossed in their own thoughts and their conversation that neither noticed the lab door easing open slightly and a head full of fluffy brown curls peeking in.

“Tell him you can’t,” Rhodey eventually suggested. “Just-tell him everything you told me. Talk it out with him. Tell him you’re not ready for marriage yet but that you still love him.”

“I’m not ever going to be ready.”

“Then tell him that, Tony. Tell him you can’t marry him. But tell him, not me.”

The two men jumped at the sound of the lab door slamming shut and swift footsteps running down the hall.

“Who was that?” Tony asked, thoroughly confused.

“It seems Mr. Parker is leaving the building in quite a hurry,” JARVIS spoke up. Tony’s entire chest filled with dread and the room was suddenly entirely too cold. Peter had heard. How much had he heard? Didn’t matter, he heard enough to just leave. He’d done it again, he’d ruined the one good thing he had left--

“I’ve ruined this already,” Tony wheezed, finding it difficult to breathe. Rhodey’s hands landed on his arms, his best friend coaching him through taking some deep breaths.

“You didn’t. We both made a pretty huge mistake, but we can fix it. Let’s go talk to him, we can explain.” Tony shook his head, placing his hand on Rhodey’s and removing it.

“No, I need to fix this. Thanks though.” He gave Rhodey a weak smile before rushing out the door, following JARVIS’ directions up to the penthouse.

-

“Peter!” He called out as the elevator doors opened. He heard shuffling in their bedroom and ran over to the doorway.

Peter was packing a bag. That feeling of dread in Tony's chest intensified as he took in the scene.

“What?” The younger man asked coldly, shoving clothing into his suitcase in a hurried manner that was so unlike him. Usually he treated his things with more care, folding each item carefully before placing it gently in Ben’s old suitcase.

“Just-stop packing, okay?” Tony walked over to where the suitcase rested on the bed and gently tried to block Peter from placing another shirt inside. Thanks to Peter’s ridiculously good reflexes, he was unsuccessful.

“Why? So I can keep listening to the bullshit you and Rhodey were spewing downstairs?” Peter asked, and Tony sighed as he continued to pack. Eventually, the billionaire just started taking the clothes back out of the suitcase, something Peter squawked at. For a few moments, there was just a flurry of movement as Tony took clothing out and Peter rushed to put it back in.

“Knock it off!” Peter cried out after a few moments, catching Tony’s wrists in his hands and holding them tightly.

“Then hear me out,” Tony said, trying to stay calm for them both. On the inside, though, he was terrified. And maybe a little turned on by Peter manhandling him like that--

Focus, Tony.

“Fine,” Peter practically growled as he released Tony’s wrists and took a step back from his suitcase. “Talk, then.”

“First of all, what you heard was taken wildly out of context,” Tony started, and Peter immediately scoffed and rolled his eyes. The younger man crossed his arms over his chest defensively, taking a few steps back from his boyfriend and fixing him with an incredulous look.

“Oh, so you weren’t talking about how much you don’t want to marry me? How you can’t?” He spat out, the words seemingly spearing directly through Tony’s heart.

“Peter-”

“Don’t Peter me. If you didn’t want to marry me, you could have just fucking said so!” Peter said, clearly distressed but trying to hold back tears. “No, but instead-instead, you strung me along for four goddamn years only to tell your friend that you can’t marry me instead of telling me! Do you not see how fucked up that is, Tony?! The second you overheard me you should have come to me instead of avoiding me like the plague! I thought I’d done something wrong, but I guess the only thing that I did wrong was loving you too much.”

“I-”

“No, I’m not finished,” Peter said, pointing at him. Something in his gaze, in the way he held himself in such a defensive way that he’d never been around Tony before, made the genius shut up. “Four years is plenty of time to tell me you don’t want to marry me. Plenty of time for you to let me go so we can both move on. Why didn’t you? What did you think was going to happen? That we were just going to stay boyfriends forever? Newsflash, Tony, in adult relationships there’s this thing called commitment.”

“I have been wholly committed to this relationship for four years, Parker,” Tony growled, more than a little bit of anger peeking through the fear at those words.

“Congratu-fucking-lations! You’re not acting like an adult though, are you? Committing to a relationship means commitment for the future, too! Not just right now.” Peter yelled - he was yelling now - and something inside Tony broke.

“I never said I didn’t want to marry you!” He yelled, and both of them fell into a shocked silence. Tony never raised his voice - not at Peter, anyway. Sure, they’d fought before, but Tony was usually calmer and when he did get angry he never yelled like that. They both took a few breaths before Tony ran his hands over his face and continued.

“I never said the problem was you,” he rephrased, voice softer now as he glanced down at the floor. “I’m the problem, Peter.”

“You’re the-”

“No, stop. Just let me talk.” Tony’s voice was exhausted, defeated even. He knew this was coming, despite Rhodey telling him otherwise. Despite hoping his days of setting relationships on fire and then watching them burn were over.

“Okay,” Peter agreed in an equally quiet tone. He felt slightly bad for screaming at Tony like that, but given what he’d overheard it had felt justified at the time. Now, after seeing his boyfriend look so utterly broken like this? He wasn’t so sure.

“This,” Tony gestured between them. “This is what I do. I cause problems. My relationships start out great and then inevitably I fuck it up somehow. A suit comes to protect me from a nightmare. I forget an anniversary because I’m too busy tinkering in the lab.” He finally met Peter’s eyes. “I take my fears of losing you to my best friend instead of to you, like I should have.” Something in Peter’s eyes softened slightly at that last admission, and Tony swallowed before continuing.

“Four years with you isn’t enough, Peter. Our whole lives won’t be enough. Of course I want to marry you. But I can’t. I can’t marry you because then when I fuck up and lose you then we’re both going to be in for a world of hurt. It’ll be easier if we just stay like this.” Peter took in a breath like he wanted to say something but Tony kept talking. “I’m not saying dating is going to make it so I never screw this up, but it’ll at least let me enjoy this a little longer. Enjoy you a little longer.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then another.

After a few moments, Peter walked up to Tony and gently took his hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over calloused knuckles.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered fondly, and Tony tried to jerk his hands out of Peter’s grip. His boyfriend was too fast, though, holding on steadily and continuing those soft touches.

“That’s not news,” Tony tried to joke, but his voice was weak.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Peter murmured.

“I just did! Almost. You were packing!”

“Because I thought my boyfriend didn’t want to marry me. I thought-” Peter broke off, taking in a shaky breath as tears came to his eyes. “I thought you wanted marriage, but not with me. Why would I stay and make us both go through a relationship where neither one of us is ever going to get what we really want?”

Tony could almost kiss his stupid, selfless boyfriend. Of course Peter fucking Parker would put his own heart into the line of fire to make sure Tony got what he really wanted.

“Now that I know that that’s not what you meant, I’m here to stay. Of course I’m here to stay. I love you, Tony.” Peter reached up and pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s cheek, squeezing his hands lightly.

“So you understand why I can’t?” Tony asked, and Peter rolled his eyes. The action was more fond now than it was angry.

“No, I don’t. But we’re going to work on it. As long as what we both want most is each other, then we can work it out. I’m not going to let your fears get in the way of us.” Peter smiled sweetly up at Tony, who felt slightly dizzy. Peter wasn’t leaving him. They were going to be okay.

“I’ll work on it,” he promised, voice barely more than a whisper.

“We will,” Peter amended. Tony simply nodded before leaning down, capturing Peter’s lips in a fierce kiss. He finally pulled his hands free of that soft grip and wrapped them around the smaller man, tugging him into his chest and holding him close.

As they slowly broke apart, Tony barely held back a whine and tried to chase after Peter’s lips. His boyfriend just laughed, placing a gentle finger on Tony’s lips.

“Wanna help me get my clothes off the bed?” He asked, and the older man groaned at the thought of cleaning up.

“Do we have to?” He asked.

“Well, we can’t exactly have fantastic make-up sex if the bed is covered in all my clean clothes,” Peter pointed out, smirking as he mouthed along Tony’s neck before pulling away.

Tony, ever the genius, simply ripped the comforter off the bed and tossed it aside, revealing sheets with no clean clothing in the way.

“Fixed,” he crowed, picking Peter up and placing him on the bed. The laughter that rang out in their bedroom as he climbed on top of his boyfriend was something Tony knew he would cherish.

They had things to work through, that was for sure. But it was like Peter said. As long as they both wanted each other, Tony had a feeling they would figure it all out.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

okay great because like. you can tell i'm a garcello simp but i saw you describe swap! garcello and my brain went "Bring Him Inside" so. maybe there's like a really big storm (we still get hurricanes up here) coming and garcello is, well. outside because that's where he lives. but reader finds him and can tell that underneath the brooding edge there is some very broken stuff so they offer to let him weather it out with them and they get to know him through that

Glad I assembled the Gar simps haha.

Tbh I'm not sure what to make his past about (Swap!Pico has the same story as normal Pico). But I'm open to any ideas!

Anyways, enjoy ^^

...........

"So whatdya want? A BB gun for self-defense? Or to get back at some petty bitch? Or maybe you want-?"

"I was just gonna ask if you had somewhere to go in case this storm kicks up later on."

"....huh?" Garcello looked up at you, perplexed as he gradually closed his trenchcoat, concealing the stash of weapons hidden inside.

You made a good point about a storm approaching, considering it was already getting windy.

But for you, a complete stranger, to be concerned about a lowlife like him? He couldn't understand why you'd care so much.

Usually people only approached him to either say "get lost" or buy some contraband. Besides that, he was a dangerous man. You obviously knew that.

Shouldn't you be more careful?

Your question seemed to confuse him, though judging by his grubby appearance and the fact you've seen him on the streets a lot, it was likely that he had no place to go.

"I don't suppose you do."

"Ah...no." He finally answered. "I've been survivin' out here for a long time. Selling guns n' shit..and taking on..tough jobs." For some reason he was afraid to tell you he was a murder-for-hire.

But why would I care if they knew or not?'

"I see..well..the nearest storm shelter is far from this train station so...how about we weather it out together?" You suggested with a smile.

Garcello blinked, unsure if he heard you right the first time. When you elaborated that you offered to let him stay at your place till the storm passed, he was stunned for a moment, but his expression quickly shifted back to a neutral one.

"You sure? You're so willing to let an armed assassin into your home."

"I don't suppose I'm on anyone's hitlist, am I?"

"No but-"

"Then I'm not worried." You chuckled. "Besides, storms get brutal around here. Nobody deserves to be stuck outside all alone."

There you go again. Hitting him with such kindness and compassion that nobody's ever shown him. He was certain that you wanted something out of this..but he won't know till he accepted your offer.

And he did after much internal debate, following you back home. He kept telling himself it was only temporary; the moment he saw sunshine outside he'll be gone and out of your life.

...........

"So how do you like your tea? Hot, cold, or...?"

"Iced..if it's no trouble." Garcello answered as he sat awkwardly on the couch in your living room space.

Only an hour or so after arriving, the sky darkened and rain was beginning to pour down. He just gazed out the window, thinking about why you let him stay here.

Any sane person would've refused and already locked their doors. Heck, he didn't even need to talk to terrify people--looks alone did just the trick.

All the scars on his face plus a constantly looming shadow obscuring his eyes were enough to make a little kid cry.

Though as you handed him the tea he requested, you didn't look afraid in the slightest. Maybe a bit wary, of course, since he is a stranger who sold contraband. But you weren't trembling or avoiding his gaze.

You were treating him like a friend.

As you sat down, too, you noticed him tugging on his coat, seemingly sweating. "All that stuff you're carrying must be heavy, huh?"

"Yeah..but ya get used to it." He muttered.

"You can take that off if you wanna be more comfortable..I-I promise I won't steal anything." You stammered as he quickly glanced at you. "You can put in the guest room closet."

"..you have a spare room?"

"I mean..you might be here all night so...c'mon I'll show you where it is."

Together you got up and ventured to the guest room. It was a small size, but Garcello was still surprised that you'll let him have this entire space for himself.

Regardless, he shrugged off his coat, being careful of the few weapons he had on the inside, before putting them in the closet. Afterwards he breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have some weight off his shoulders. He checked his belt loop for the uzi that he kept on him at all times.

If he lost everything else, he'd be perfectly content with this one gun.

"So..I did go food shopping beforehand so there's plenty to eat here. I don't know what you're allergic to or what you like but-"

"Alright cut the bullshit."

You looked at him, confused. "..come again?"

"You must got a high priority target or..just...just something on your mind." He mumbled, shutting the closet door with trembling hands. "Nobody offers all of this to me and not want something in return. So quit acting so friendly and tell me what you want."

As he spoke, he turned around to scowl at you. But the more he talked, the more you could sense something besides..anger in his tone.

He seemed rather exhausted and confused--as though he needed to repay your hospitality. It made you wonder what this man has been through to make him assume your kindness..was some façade. You knew he wasn't being rude on purpose.

"Maybe..your name?"

"..my name? That's it?"

"Yeah," you smiled. "I'm [y/n]. It's only fair that we get to know each other since we'll be stuck here for a while."

"That's..true. Name's Garcello." He muttered. "Sorry for gettin' snappy. I'm just not used to-"

A crackle of thunder interrupted him, making him jump as he glanced at the window. The wind and rain outside began growing louder.

"Hey."

He looked back at you, seeing you offer a hand. That warm smile was still plastered to your face. "You seem pretty cool, so you can stay for as long as you want, even when this storm passes. You're safe here, Garcello."

Safety. That was rare to come by. For the longest time he just wanted to feel safe somewhere and not always be on the run.

But to know that he didn't need to kill anyone or sell anything to hear that reassurance made his eyes sting.

"Th-Thanks, [y/n]." Garcello took your hand and shook it once, before letting go.

It felt strange to contact another person without inflicting violence on them. 'Is this what it's like to have..a friend?' He wondered, even though deep down he worried about getting "too attached" to people. His job couldn't afford such sentiments.

But maybe this time..

He can stop worrying.

[sullina]

I mean, presumably that role would have been the Commandments role if the war and conflict with the goddesses didn't exist (according to fanon). They were the strongest of the strong so Melioda sprobably knows how to handle Indura... the problem comes with the fact that presumably the Commandments worked in teams and the Sins struggled against that Indura kn the movie and Meliodas himself had said he wasn't as strong as he used to be in a flashback to Danafor. Which was before he'd even met Zaratrus.

I imagine they might be able to eventually take the Indura down, perhaps it was a juvenile or a transformed Indura so difficult but not an impossible battle. Afterall like you said, they did struggle against the baby and that was after specifically training to fight demons, a Indura in Liones pre-commandment release would probably go more along the lines of the s1 climax where everyone was fucked simply due to just how weak the Knights were beforehand. They'll beat it but it won't be pretty nor easy and Meliodas will have a lot of explaining to do since eyes the resident demon realm expert, being a native of the place and all.

I can imagine Meliodas standing with a sign saying no trespassing next to a giant hole xD

For real though, they'd probably post Guarda to stop ppl from entering with the warning that the place was full of toxic mist, Meliodas may even need to give a demonstration of sorts. Plus the trip is supposedly a really long one full of very steep and dangerous points so a lot of ppl probably wouldn't even want to go in there far enough to actually hit the demon realm. I can see Zaratrus maybe asking Meliodas to give him a tour at soem point but likely nowhere near the demon realm itself.

yeah, that's true, it was probably among the commandments' duties. We can't know for sure tho since we don't know much abt the demons outside of the whole war thing. The only reason we can assume that they lived in cities or city-like structures is bc of that one flashback from Derieri when she died (at least to me those stone pillars looked like they might be some kind of homes or maybe a defensive structure like guard towers? My guess is on homes tho). We know the demons also had social structures similar to knight orders bc of the "six knights of black", it can be safe to assume that orders like that were founded for all kinds of reasons, including outside of the holy war with the goddesses. To be honest though, I think the one thing that Liones CAN do to defeat the Indura for sure is for Meliodas to either use his revenge counter or for him to do the whole "power-up ping pong" strategy he did when finally killing the DK for good, yes I'm seriously calling it that.

LOL, or Mel installing some kind of alarm system to keep ppl out and when they tresspass, he swoops down from the sky and goes "no", scaring the shit out of whoever tried to go down in the cave XDDD

The entrance we saw in the cursed by light movie was long and dangerous. That was one entrance. A different entrance might not be. There's also the matter that the entrance seen in the movie seemed to connect the demon realm to a regular cave in the human realm. They did also find a fish in a river in the cave and idk if it was clarified whether that fish was of the human realm or the demon realm or somewhere in-between. The connective cave between the realms likely also kept the miasma mostly at bay from the human realm. We know it's some kind of gas or gas-mixture, but can't travel on its own, so it's unlikely that any miasma or a significant amount ever reached the other end of the cave, a.k.a. the entrace on the human realm side. If the entrance that this Indura came from is just a giant hole, it might also be leaking miasma into the human realm. Depending on whether the miasma floats or sinks in the air of the human realm, this could be a minor or major problem. Oh my god, now that I think about it, it's essentially a hole in the earth. Diane can controll the earth. She can literally just seal the entrance up.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts

Part 8:

It’s a sunday evening, and you’re kicking your feet up. The television is on low, and your apartment smells like the food you’d had for dinner earlier. All things considered, it’s the most relaxing day off you could’ve asked for. You’d slept in, stayed in, and not got off your couch for anything more than food or a bathroom break. It was perfection.

But perfection expires. Even quicker when somebody forcefully shatters it with a fist against your balcony door.

At the sight of Bakugou, you can’t help but be confused. You’d seen him last just a few nights ago, and, as he already proved, he only came around as a last resort. But, even stranger that his mere presence was his appearance. It was nearing evening, and Bakugou was standing behind the glass in civilian clothes. Normal ones, with a scarf and a coat for once- no hero costume or gauntlets in sight. He had a shopping bag held in the other hand, crinkling the plastic with impatience as you open the door for him. 

“Back again so soon?” You comment.

“Shut up.”

“You could try a hello once in awhile, you know.” You sigh, sliding the door open wider for him. “But I guess I’ll let you in. It is pretty cold out.”

“It’s not cold, you’re just a bitch-”

“Ah!” You scold, spinning around to face his smirk. “What did I say about calling women, and me, that?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugs, mouth drawn up in that way you’d quickly come to realize irritated the hell out of you. “Wasn’t listenin’.”

Bakugou brushes past you easily, somehow leading you into your own kitchen. A part of you wants to yell at him for it, but a larger part quickly realizes how much of a lost cause that would be. After all, it would be pretty pointless to yell at a wild animal for acting like a wild animal. 

Swinging from his hand is a plastic bag, and with no ceremony whatsoever, Bakugou slams it onto your counter. The sound makes you cringe and you’re not sure what takes more damage- the contents of the bag or your own countertop. Then he turns his back, stepping away without a word. He takes a seat at your table, flipping the chair backwards, settling into it, and resting his chin on his hands- and says nothing, of course, because it’s Bakugou. 

“So- what, you’re just gonna leave your stuff there?” You ask, fighting the urge to look inside the bag. “Just, like, out on the counter?”

Bakugou must see your eagerness, because then he’s rolling his eyes. He lifts his head like the gesture pains him, and points loosely towards the bag. 

“Go. Look.” He says. “Knock yourself out, leech. ‘s for you.”

“You bought me something?”

“Yeah? And? What about it?” He bites out defensively. “’s not a big fuckin’ deal or anything.”

“Nothing- I- that’s just nice, I wasn’t expecting it. Thank you.”

He seems to fluster at your words, casting his eyes to the floor. But he waves his hand again, and you realize he’s waiting for you to open the gift, so you near the counter.

 Inside the bag are new dish rags and high-quality bandages and a mountain of cold compresses. You dig a little further, finding some tissues and gauze and even painkillers. He seems to have accounted for and replaced everything you’d ever given him- and then some. 

“I- this is really nice. Really.” You say earnestly, unpacking everything and setting it down on the counter. “Thank you, Bakugou.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Only did it so you don’t think I owe you anything.”

“I never thought you owed me anything in the first place, you know.”

He just shakes his head at that, mouth curling around a subtle smirk. “Only an idiot serves people for free.”

“I don’t- I’m helping you!”

“I know, chill the hell out.” He laughs. “I was kidding, leech.”

You look at him, and Bakugou looks a lot different that you’ve ever seen him. He’s refreshed, skin no longer pallid, his eyes bright and alert. It’s nice, you realize, to see him in something other than pain, absolute exhaustion, or a mood for once.

He almost beautiful- in very much the same way his explosions are. From an incredibly healthy distance.

You shake your head of the thought, turning around quickly before he can notice the heat in your cheeks. It’s a silly thing to be embarrassed about, and you know it, but that doesn’t stop the feeling. 

So instead of dwelling on it, you ignore it entirely- spin on your heels and start walking towards your bathroom. 

“Where’re ya going now?” He asks, and you hear the chair squeak as he stands. Then he’s trailing behind you for a few steps. “Hah?”

“Bathroom. Gotta get the kit so I can put all the new stuff in it!”

“Well don’t sound so fuckin’ happy about it.”

“I am happy!” You call over your shoulder.

Truthfully, you’re actually little unsure- almost assuming there must be some sort of catch to Bakugou’s gift. Sure it’d be a normal gesture from anyone else, but this was him. He didn’t just do nice things regardless of whatever reason he claimed.

You grab the medkit, striding back out to find him leaning against your counter. His eyes follow you, focused and intent as you start packing the new things away. It’s a little intense honestly- you almost start to wonder if Bakugou even knows how to blink.

“Wow- this is the exact brand I like and everything.” You smile at him, tucking all the bandages away neatly. “How’d you know?”

“Noticed.”

“You noticed?”

“The packaging, idiot. ‘s not hard.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe not. But I didn’t expect you’d notice it while you were injured is all- oh, and speaking of, good job! Showing up here, not bleeding out and exhausted, I mean. It’s nice to see you not on the brink of death.”

“Yeah- just means you shouldn’t piss me off. I’ll kill ya for sure this time, leech.” 

His tone is a little weird- a little too light, almost teasing. It’s not until you look up at him that you notice- he’s joking. Bakugou Katsuki is making a joke, in your kitchen, and somehow smiling with very little argument beforehand. A part of you is sure that hell must’ve frozen over.

Still, you smile right back, rolling your eyes at him playfully. “Mhm, I get it.” You say. “You’re totally scary and mean. No need to threaten me any more with it.”

Bakugou just nods, seemingly very satisfied with your comment. You wonder if he knows you were being sarcastic, but knowing his ego, you’re not sure it even mattered anyway. You chose to say the words at all, and that was your worst mistake. 

You finish putting away all the medical supplies into your kit, organizing it neatly within the compartments. Bakugou watches you intently the entire time, not really moving much aside from taking his previous seat back on your kitchen chair. It’s a silent for a while, nothing but your little shuffling sounds and his quiet breathing- until he clears his throat, sighing and slumping forward against the back of your kitchen chair.

“You going shopping again soon?” He suddenly asks, voice pinched and terse. Like even bringing the subject up at all irritates him. “Gonna be out even later or whatever?” 

“I mean- yeah, some time in the next few days? Why?”

“Don’t.”

His tone is clipped- short and harsh like every other word he’d ever spoken to you, but his expression has shifted. There’s no pretense or tough act to follow his command. No front whatsoever. 

“That’s- that’s not really something you get to decide.” You finish unsurely. Something about him is making you nervous- the intensity over something so seemingly trivial. “Why’re you even asking?”

Bakugou straightens in the chair, dropping his arms from over the back. He rolls his shoulders, puffing out his chest with authority. “It doesn’t matter why I’m fuckin’ asking. Just do what I say and stay inside.”

“How many times have I told you this, you don’t get to make orders-”

“It’s not orders.” Bakugou sneers, mimicking your voice. Then he drops the posturing, tilting his head as his voice colors condescending. “I’m saying it’s dangerous, idiot. Quit being so goddamn stubborn.”

“I’m not.” You scrunch your nose at the insult. “And dangerous? Really? I’ve literally never been attacked, not once, in the entire years I’ve lived here. If it’s concern, I appreciate it, but I’m fairly confident I’m fine.”

“It’s- you even listenin’ to me?” He sneers. “I’m warning you. Tellin’ ya not to go out and do something stupid just to prove a stupid fuckin’ point. I’m serious about it- don’t.”

His tone strikes you as odd. Bakugou wasn’t the type to ask for anything. He didn’t bow to anyone or anything, but in that moment you could’ve sworn he was pleading with you. Like he knew something you didn’t. You start to realize you were right earlier, about the way his gift had a catch.

“Bakugou. Did you see something? Like, around here or-”

“No. Not yet.”

You want to tear your hair out. Once again, it seemed Bakugou had you pulling teeth with him, even though he was the one who showed up at your apartment in the first place. 

“Not yet? What does that even-” You sigh in frustration. “Look, if you know something, and that something is dangerous, then you need to tell me.”

Bakugou’s entire face to seems to scrunch up at that, but then he’s dragging a hand down his face and smoothing his features. When he looks up at you again, you can see the way his eye twitches. The way his jaw ticks when he leans forward.

“I can’t.” He growls, running a hand through his unruly hair. “If I could just fuckin’ tell you I would, but it’s not that goddamn easy. Even knowing in the first place is how they- just, just fuckin’ listen to me about this!” 

Bakugou tilts his head, catching your eyes with his hardened stare. His eyes are solid again, like strengthened steel as he looks at you. It’s almost harder to keep his gaze than it is to even try and look away.

It’s yet another stare off, and up until now, you’d won every match. You had seen him at his worst, had forced him to relent even if it was through brute force- but this didn’t seem like those other times. Between his clenched fists and merciless stare, it didn’t seem like surrender was even part of his vocabulary. 

In that moment, Bakugou was serious. More serious than you’d ever seen him before.  

“Yeah. Okay.” You say, nodding. “I got it- but I’m not sure what you want me to do exactly? My shift’s graveyard, so if the problem is it being dark and late, then I’m not sure what to tell you.”

Bakugou nods, but he doesn’t look exceptionally thrilled. He rolls his lips together, thinking for a moment, before he speaks. “Same time every night?”

“Yeah? Most nights?”

“Then it’s fine.” He nods once more to himself, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ll be there.” 

You look at him a little funny, squinting in absolute disbelief, but it doesn’t matter. Bakugou’s already made up his mind it seems. 

“What- like every night?” You ask. “You’re just gonna walk me home, every night?” 

“Got a fuckin’ problem with it or something?”

“No, but that’s- do you not have a job? I don’t- you really don’t need to go through all that trouble just to pay back whatever debt you think you owe me and-”

“Idiot.” He shakes his head, swearing under his breath. “This isn’t about a stupid debt, alright? It’s about your shitty quirk. And don’t start fuckin’ asking me to explain how, because I won’t, no matter how much you beg. Just believe me, and fuckin’ listen. For once.” 

You shrink back a little bit at that- your stomach dropping.

Your quirk? What the hell would your quirk have to do with anything? 

“Don’t give me that shit, woman. I already told you.” Bakugou gruffs suddenly. “‘m not saying anything else, so shut up about it alread-

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“Didn’t have to, leech, could see it in your beady eyes.” 

“Well excuse me for having a natural reaction!” You snap, squinting at him. “You can’t just walk in here, say something cryptic, tell me I’m in danger apparently, and then expect me to just be perfectly calm about it, alright? It’s not fair.”

To his credit, Bakugou does actually seem to mull over your words for a second. He huffs another breath, something exhausted and a little annoyed before he speaks again.

“Don’t go spiraling about it, leech. Nothing’s even fuckin’ wrong. Yet.” He gruffs. “All ‘m saying is that going out alone at night is a shitty idea, even for you, and you should stop doing it.”

“Okay. Fine. I guess. Even though it feels sorta backwards, I guess stuff like this is pretty much your job, huh?” You sigh. “But what did you mean earlier, about my quirk? What would it even have to do with anything? No one but you even really understands it.”

“Mhm, and we’re keepin’ it that way.” 

“That’s unreasonable. I can’t just, like, stop using it. It’s a huge portion of my job!”

“Tough.”

“Tough? Tough? Really? That’s all you have to say?” You huff in frustration. “It’s- Look, I can admit you probably have a point about the not going out at night thing, but I’m not just gonna stop using my quirk entirely and-” 

“When the fuck did I tell you to stop using it completely? I didn’t, so stop putting your words in my mouth, leech. What I said is you need to stop just fuckin’ usin’ it on everybody you see. Any idiot with half a brain cell could see how strong it is, alright?” He says. “So you need to figure out how to keep it to yourself. Stop drawing so much goddamn attention.”

“Drawing attent- Bakugou! I’m a nurse, alright? Not a celebrity. Not like you.” You huff, irritation coating your words. “I appreciate the concern, but I really, really, don’t think me doing my job, is gonna put me in danger! I hardly have control of it as it is, and I highly, highly, doubt my unimpressive skillset is gonna attract some crazy supervillain!” 

Bakugou just stares at you blankly while you rant, hardly even blinking as he lets you calm down. When your settled at bit, taking a deep breathe, he clicks his tongue at you.

“You already did.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, you already did, you moron.” 

“That’s- are you- you’re kidding? Right? Please tell me you’re kidding!” 

“What the fuck? Of course I’m not, idiot.” He scoffs, arms flexing as he wraps them around the back of the chair. “I wouldn’t even be here right now if I was. Stupid shit like that is a waste of my fuckin’ time.”

At his words, you can feel the nerves rolling in. It seems your life only got crazier and crazier the longer Bakugou invaded it, but this was something else. You had no business being involved in his world at all, you knew that, and especially not like this. At the very center and seemingly the cause of the problem. It made you feel sick. 

“Oh wipe the dumbass look off your face.” Bakugou rolls his eyes. “You really think I’m that useless? Nobody is going to get you. If anything, it’ll just make it easier for me to catch these fuckers with you sittin’ out like bait all the damn time.” 

“Bait? I’m not being bait for you!” 

“Jesus, leech. That’s not what I meant and you know it, so calm the hell down.” Bakugou reassures. “I meant, they’ll get greedy and sloppy sooner or later. Maybe even do something really stupid like go after you- but it’s fuckin’ fine because I’ll be there. No villian worth anything is dumb enough to come after you in the day, and I’ll walk you home at night. So there’s no goddamn issue.”

“No issue? This entire thing is an issue! I feel like you’re not taking this seriously!” 

Bakugou’s eye twitches at that, and you see him huff, pushing the chair away as he stands. He nears you, solid steps against your kitchen tile until he’s just a few feet away. There’s fire in his eyes, raging and relentless as he towers over you, his broad shoulders almost blocking out the overhead light. His expression is pinched something harsh, shadows gathering under a jaw he sets sharp enough to cut steel. In the dim glow of your kitchen, Bakugou looks mean. Much, much, scarier than he’s ever been around you before.

“I am taking this seriously.” He seethes. “Those evil, sadistic motherfuckers are not going to get away with this shit- but this only works, if you do as I say. ‘m gonna blow ‘em to hell either way, and I’d rather  not do it with you tagging along as their idiot fuckin’ hostage. So you’re gonna stay in and not take any stupid risks. You understand? Leech?” 

A part of you wants to shrink for a moment, cower and collapse under the heat of his gaze. Bakugou is intimidation like you’ve never experienced before, and strangely enough, you find that brings a weird sort of comfort to you; because he looked furious, but he looked incredibly determined too. Like no force on the entire planet, divine or otherwise, could possibly save those villains from his wrath. 

“Yeah. Okay. I get it.” You say. 

“Good.” 

Then he backs off, taking and few steps back and shoving his hands in his pockets. The rage seems to melt off his face, running fluid down his nose until his eyebrows relax and his grimace goes smooth. You’d always thought he’d looked angry before, but compared to his previous expression, you realized you were wrong. As it looked now, around you, Bakugou might as well have been docile. 

“It’s- is there anything you can tell me about whoever this is?” You ask shakily. “I know what you said, but I can’t just throw myself into danger like this, alright? If it involves me, I need to know.” 

“You can’t. Knowing is the entire fucking issue.”

“What does that-”

“I already told you, I’m not telling you, alright? So fucking drop it.” 

“I can’t! How am I supposed to watch out for myself if I don’t even know what we’re up against-”

“We’re? No. We’re not up against anything.” He barks out. “You’re staying inside. I’m serious. No exceptions- that is the only fuckin’ way any of this’ll work. Don’t make it any goddamn easier for them then it needs to be.” 

“H-how do you even know any of this? Where is this even coming from? I didn’t even live anywhere near here until I met you, and even that was only months ago!”

“It’s not important how I know. I just do, alright? So stop makin’ this so hard and just quit fighting already. You’ll be fine if you just let me do my fuckin’ job.” 

You run shaky hands through your hair, trying to battle the anxiety coursing hot through your veins. A part of you wants to protest, to screech at him, but you’re not sure that would be of any help. Bakugou looked dead set on his plan already, like he’d already strategized ten steps ahead, and, when you thought about it, maybe he did. Nobody could become a top-ranking pro off pure luck, and concerning Dynamite? Well the skill behind the intimidating name was obvious. Bakugou had never been beaten. Not once in his entire career had he ever let somebody get away without injury. It’s a strange, frightening, bloody kind of bright side, but concerning your situation, you figure you’d take what you could get. 

And, when you thought about it, maybe his plan wasn’t all that bad. It was just laying low. You could do that. You could do that. 

Maybe. If you didn’t die of a panic attack first. 

“So- you thought you could butter me up with a gift and then drop a bomb on me, huh?” You ask tiredly, dropping your elbows onto your kitchen counter. You collapse into them, head in your hands as you slump. “Nice strategy, you asshole.” 

You hear him exhale something like a laugh behind you. 

“Don’t laugh!”

“Oi- quit your bitching. I told you- I’ll gonna kill them all, so chill the hell out already.” 

You turn to look at him, replying flatly. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to kill anyone. Even villains.” 

“Not literally, you bitch.” He grumbles. You hear steps behind you as he moves closer. “Just listen to me and you’ll be fine. Don’t go running off and trying to take care of it yourself. Don’t waste my time like every other dumbass civilian.” 

When you lift your head up again, Bakugou is leaning against the other side of the counter. He’s towering over your slumped form, and when you look up at him, he actually doesn’t look that pissy. You almost find that to be the strangest occurrence of the entire night. 

“Oh god no. No self-sacrifice here. You can do all the fighting, thanks.” You shiver. “Even the thought of it nearly makes me sick. I don’t think I could hurt anybody.” 

“Good thing. You’d be flat on your ass in seconds, leech.” 

“I would no- actually, no, you’re probably right.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “God, I’m fucked, aren’t I?” 

“No. Don’t be so goddamn weak about this. You’re fuckin’ fine.” 

“What- you’re gonna protect me?”

Bakugou seems to nearly seize at your remark, his face pinching up into a snarl. If he was half an iota more juvenile you’re sure he would’ve made an audible gagging sound.

“Jesus fuck, shut your mouth.” He barks at you, cheeks flushing. “I’m gonna get ‘em, but it has nothing to do with you.” 

“Mhm. Yeah. Whatever. As long as they can’t get to me, I don’t care what reason it’s for.”

You fall into silence after that, and you try to focus on just your breaths. They feel less momentous, less anxiety-inducing, in your world that has quickly become very stressful. You can’t help the nausea settling in your stomach. You were scared.

You’d meant it when you said you couldn’t hurt anybody. Even in a life or death situation, you’re not sure you could do anything to cause harm. It just wasn’t in your nature, and the thought of being violent made you sick almost as much as the fear did. It was a strange sort of battle- one that left your fingers itching for somebody to heal. Somebody to soothe since you wouldn’t get any peace in your own mind it seemed. 

After giving yourself a few minutes of grace, just standing there in the fear didn’t seem like enough. You were overwhelmed, yes, but you weren’t alone. Even if he was bit of an asshole, you knew he’d keep his word. You wouldn’t get hurt- as long as you tried your best to be vigilant. With that thought in mind, you turned to Bakugou, trying your best to steady your voice.

“My shift ends at midnight. Or it’s supposed to. Most nights we run late, but there’s not much I can do about that.” You tell him. “I’m not sure if you already knew that or if that’s even helpful, but I figured I’d tell you anyways.” 

“So you’re listenin’?”

“Yes?” You ask confused. “It’s not like I could fight them off myself- not successfully like you could at least. What other choice do I have?” 

“That’s-” Bakugou shakes his head, disbelief rising for a second before he masks it. “Didn’t expect it, leech. Thought you’d fight like an idiot about it. You wouldn’t believe how fuckin’ stupid most civilians are. You tell ‘em they’re in danger and the morons just stand there and watch.”

“No, I know. I’m the one patching all those morons up, remember?” 

He nods, laughing something exhausted before he drags a hand down his face. It’s a strangely humanizing gesture- something devoid of anger and almost bordering genuine connection. You’d come to realize that there were cracks in his armor. Little bits of him that really did seem fond of all those people he worked so hard to save.

“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. And every day afterwards.” You say, rolling your shoulders back. You stretch you arms out in front of you, sighing tiredly. “Congrats on the the promotion to being my glorified guard dog.” 

Bakugou scrunches his nose up in disgust, lip curling. “I’m not your fuckin’ guard dog.” 

“Kinda seems like it.”

“It doesn’t seem like shit, leech.”

“Yeah. Okay. Whatever you say.” 

“I’m serious.”

“I know. God forbid I make a joke, grumpy pants.” You mutter quietly, clapping your hands with finality as you change the subject. “Alright, I think that’s enough panic for the night, thank you. Is that all? Or are there any other horrifying tidbits you wanna share with me?”

“Nope.”

“Well that’s- actually, no, I was gonna say that makes me feel better, but it actually doesn’t. Not at all.”

“Don’t be a bitc-”

“Bakugou! What did I say about that word?”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Little bitch. Don’t be a little bitch.” 

It’s a strange thing to laugh at- an insult in the face of so much fear. But you do. His comment makes you laugh, slices the tension in your string wound far too tight. Bakugou seems satisfied at that, smiling slightly in return as he retrieves his jack and shrugs it back on. 

“Oh- you’re not staying? It’s late.” 

“Nah. Got patrol, leech.” Then he looks you up and down, squinting at the slippers on your feet. “Some of us actually got our lazy ass out of bed today.” 

“Hey! It’s my day off, you dick!”

Bakugou just laughs under his breath, nimble hands winding his scarf back around his neck. “You’re too fuckin’ easy.”

“Only because you’re dead set on being an asshole!” 

“Yeah? And?”

“That’s- don’t defend yourself!” You sputter, following behind him to the door. “You shouldn’t feel confident about that!”

He just shrugs, pulling open your balcony door with excessive force. He steps out, and the cold air floods in quickly, pinking his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Maybe it’s his lack of costume or his relaxed expression, but suddenly, you can’t help yourself with the words you say next. 

“Be careful, yeah?” You say. “I don’t wanna see you again until tomorrow night.” 

He looks at you a little strangely, tilting his head almost imperceptibly. Then he’s shaking it off, clenching his fist as a dangerous smirk rolls across his face.

“‘m all good. Bitches won’t even get a scratch on me.” 

You’re about to yell at him for word choice again, and he must see it in your eyes. Bakugou waves you off, laughing as he vaults on top of the balcony railing in one leap. There’s sparks popping in his palms, before he turns back once more, cheshire grin and fire in his eyes as he flips you off. Then he’s skydiving below the horizon line and out of sight. 

You curse him out, but your words are drowned out by explosions. 

When you walk back inside, rubbing the cold from your arms, you realize you left the first aid kit open. You latch it shut, but leave it on the counter just in case. You were being honest earlier- you didn’t want to see him again that night, especially not injured, but you’d help him if you had to.

At this point, it felt like no matter what you did, you just couldn’t get rid of him. 

--/--

edit: pls y’all i forgot to add the taglist when i originally posted ,,, omg this is so embarrassing whoops

taglist:  @fluffyviciousbunny @definitelynottrin @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @bakugouswh0r3 @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @pollayra21 @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai @christianagrace9  @the2ndl @the-shota-king-masayuki @shy-panda02 @devastyle @shoto-supremacy00 @shotoful

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Continues

Part 11: The Delivery

Summary: Jensen and Y/n welcome their newest addition to this world.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 7.2K+

Warnings: Language, angst, descriptions of labor and birth

Author’s Note: Baby Ackles is finally ready to make their first appearance. If you have been following this story since the beginning, you may want to grab a tissue, there just might be some tears (happy tears tho). Also, I will preface this chapter by saying I have never been pregnant nor given birth so please don’t @ me with any inaccuracies, I tried my dudes. Special thanks to my loves for the constant undeserved support and my devoted beta @emoryhemsworth​ xoxo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The winter sun had long ago dipped underneath the horizon, the night bringing a new level of quiet to the residential corner where the birthing center was located. Inside birthing suite two, the only soft light came from the LED strips that followed the length of the walls at the base and ceiling. Currently, they were tuned low and blue, the light mixing with the neutral decor in a way that made her feel like she was underwater. 

Curled on her side in the queen-sized bed, Y/n watched out the window on the opposite wall. Through the sheer curtain, the center’s garden could be visualized. It expanded a few hundred yards until the treeline of the nearby forest began. In silence, she watched the water trickle from the stone fountain in the center. It had been turned off for the season, but the rain that had fallen earlier in the evening still clung to the piece, each drop falling in a slow rhythmic pattern. 

Y/n found it more soothing than what the fountain had looked like last summer when they had first toured the place. She assumed if she was laboring in spring or summer, walking the trails in the garden would be something she found herself doing, even late in the evening as it was currently. But that was a dream she had let go of as the temperature dropped. All she had now was the counting of each drop in between contractions. 

The instinct to hold her breath took over as the next contraction washed over her, the sharp inhale of breath alerting the dozing man next to her. Y/n closed her eyes and focused on taking deep breaths, trying to ground herself to the moment. Fingers pressed into her lower back, one on either side of her spine, applying counter-pressure to the contraction. 

“Harder,” her word was weak, even in the quiet room. The pressure increased instantly, helping her to focus back on breathing through the contraction. It felt like a lifetime later when the pain began to subside before eventually tapering off. The sheets shuffled in the dark behind her before she felt an arm wrap around her abdomen. 

“Where are you at?” Jensen’s voice broke into the room as he pulled her tight against his chest. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, her gaze back on the fountain outside. “Trying to be anywhere but here.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Birth our child?” she tried, unable to stop the smile from creeping up on her face. If there was one thing Y/n didn’t handle well, it was being in pain. She would put back up every wall that anyone had become successful in tearing down, choosing to stew in silence. It was a defense mechanism she had perfected long ago. Never let them see you sweat. Unfortunately, that also meant that she tended to get mean, keeping it all bottled up until she exploded like a shaken can of soda. She truly wished right then that she had a catheter in her back delivering the good meds to her lower body, but she had committed long ago to do this as naturally as possible, her comfort be damned. 

“As soon as they figure out how to do that, I’ve got you, babe,” Jensen chuckled behind her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck. She nodded in unfortunate understanding, her hand coming to rest atop her husband’s where it lay on her belly. 

“Actually, could you top off my water bottle?” Y/n spoke back up after a moment of content silence. 

“Of course. Ice?” He questioned, already climbing from the bed to grab her bottle on the nightstand near her. 

“Please,” she confirmed.

“Be back in a flash,” Jensen pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before leaving the room to get ice from the main kitchen in the birthing center. A sigh left her mouth as she pulled herself into a semi-sitting position on the bed and grabbed her phone from where it lay charging. There was a mix of messages in her notifications, all from friends and family with varying messages of encouragement. She appreciated the gesture but to be honest, what Y/n wanted more than anything was to not have all the attention on her. It was yet another symptom of being uncomfortable. Her solace lay in the simple fact that she was not expected to answer any of the messages she received, considering she was in labor and all. Forgetting why she even grabbed the device in the first place, Y/n noted the time and tossed it back on the nightstand. 

It was officially after midnight. Well, technically it was almost twelve-thirty which meant it was Jensen’s birthday. Y/n had found it funny when he had called his mother earlier to let her know that the baby was coming, Jensen had made his stupid joke only to have his face fall when Donna had laughed a little too hard. Her husband was caught up thinking about his mother and teasing the older woman that it didn’t even cross his brain what Y/n going to labor meant for him. Now, as she found herself nearly seven centimeters dilated as the clock turned into the new day, it seemed their baby would share its birthday with their father. 

Jensen came back then, breaking her out of her thoughts but unable to knock the warm smile from her face. He walked around to her side and perched on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under him as he faced her. Y/n took a drink of the cool liquid, relishing in the calm it brought her. 

“What is that smile about?” He had an equally bright smile of his own, unable to contain it as he watched his wife. 

“Nothing just… happy birthday,” the pregnant woman shrugged in her seat, her eyes casting down to wear her hands now cradled her bump. 

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, his heart feeling so whole when he thought about it that it felt as though it might burst from his ribcage. There was so much love for the woman in front of him, he didn’t know what to do with it. It scared him sometimes. It didn’t matter what was happening at the moment, but he could look at her and he would forget for a second that the world existed outside them and all he knew was that she made everything okay. His heart would skip a beat so fast he barely noticed and the urge to cry became overwhelming. Only this time, he refused to fight it, allowing a few tears to well up in his eyes. 

“What’s this about?” Y/n sat up, concern now etched into her features as she brought herself close enough to her husband that she could wipe away the single tear that had escaped down his cheek with her thumb. She had caught sight of it, of course, even in the low light of the room. In the few silent seconds that he sat there smiling, she felt warm under his stoic gaze, unsure of what was going on in that head of his. Jensen shook his head, his smile still not faltering. 

“I love you,” he said simply. 

“I love you, too,” Y/n agreed, her concern melting away and taking with it the crease in her brow. Her husband cradled her face in his hands, pulling her face up to press his lips to hers. He poured every emotion that was currently making him dizzy into that kiss, afraid that if he didn’t, she would never know. But she did know, and though Y/n didn’t need more than those three words, she couldn’t deny him the release he so evidently needed. The desperation seeped from his every pore as his lips brushed against hers, unwilling to part until the need for air overtook everything else. 

A gentle knock on the door snapped his brain back down to Earth. Jensen released his hold on her face, watching as it took her a second longer to open her eyes once they parted. He cleared his throat before calling out.

“Come in.”

Their midwife, Melek, snuck into the room, not making a sound as she closed the door behind her. She turned the lights up just a touch, giving the couple a warning beforehand. 

“Hey, I’m just back to check your progress,” she snatched a pair of gloves from their place in one of the drawers and came to the side of the bed Jensen was still perched on. He moved out of her way as Y/n scooted down the bed slightly. Melek asked Y/n how she was feeling as she went about her work. The midwife listened and nodded along to everything she explained. 

“Well, we are getting very close. Based on how you’ve progressed so far, this baby could be here in the next couple of hours. You are going to start feeling the urge to push soon, might feel like you have to poop, don’t ignore that or any other changes you notice.” Melek stood from the bed and tossed her gloves before washing her hands. She made a note on the whiteboard in the room before coming back over to the couple. 

“You are welcome to continue relaxing, whatever feels best. However, if you feel up to it, I would suggest taking a walk in the garden. I know it’s cold and late, but it will help to energize you before the big work starts.”

“Thank you. Is that safe?” Y/n was adjusting her nightgown back into place as she talked. 

“Yes, if you choose to take a walk, I would go now. No longer than twenty minutes outside and I will be back in another hour,” Their midwife confirmed. The couple nodded in acknowledgment of her words, offering her more words of ‘thanks’ as she exited the suite. 

“Well, what do you think, momma?” Jensen put his hands on his hips as he looked down at her. 

“Couldn’t hurt,” Y/n shrugged. She offered him an innocent smile. “Help me put on my shoes?” 

“Deal.”

****

A low groan emanated from her chest as she battled through her current contraction. Her hands were locked around Jensen’s neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. The actor was rocking her back and forth, once again applying counterpressure to her lower back.

“Oh god, I feel nauseous,” Y/n breathed out as the contraction subsided. She let up on the weight she had been putting on her husband.

“That’s normal though, right?”

“Yeah, I was just venting,” she let the air out of her lungs rush past her lips. “I don’t expect you to do anything about it.” Her words were clipped as they tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. The laboring woman cringed as she felt her husband stiffen underneath her. The soda had popped. Her movements were hesitant as she raised her head to look at him, regret written across her face. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay, you are allowed to do whatever you want to me today.” The smile that graced his lips was tight, but she suspected it was more from the exhaustion than anything. She could see the heaviness in his eyes. 

“No, it’s not. Come on, yell at me. Tell me you don’t need that shit because you were just trying to be helpful,” she pleaded with him, the guilt heavy in her chest. 

“You want me to pick a fight with you while you are in labor?” Amusement was heavy in his words. 

“Yeah, please? I deserve it. You are being far too nice to me.”

“It’s not happening. Sorry, babe.” Y/n growled in frustration, causing her husband to throw his head back and laugh. 

The sound of yet another knock had her releasing her grip on her husband as she called the midwife in. It was time for the hourly check of her labor progression, a task that Y/n had grown a distinct distaste for. As the hours came and went and it felt like nothing was happening, it all just felt pointless. At this point, she was begging this kid to come out. 

Melek made quick work of the check, a smile on her face after when she pulled off her gloves. “Seems as though it’s time, momma. You are fully dilated. How are you feeling?” 

“Uh,” Y/n shared a look with her husband as their midwife headed over to the tub on the opposite side of the room and started the water. She gave a quick synopsis of what had happened in the last hour before asking, “Are we pushing now?” 

“We can start. Sounds like you’ve already had some urges to. Right now it’s about listening to your body and what it’s telling you. I’m going to grab the nurse while you get in the water.” Melek left the water running and the couple dumbstruck. 

“Okay, I guess this is happening,” Y/n scoffed, allowing her husband to help her from the bed. He stripped down to his boxer briefs while she slipped off the gown she was wearing, leaving her as naked as the day she was born. Jensen helped her into the tub and down to sit between his legs. As the water reached its max level, he stopped the tap and urged her to sit back against his chest. 

True to her word, Melek was back in no time with a nurse and everything else they would need. They flourished around the room, getting ready as yet another contraction hit. Y/n’s grip on her husband tightened, her mind focused on one thing now. Jensen was whispering in her ear, helping to guide her breaths. Y/n gave in to the urge to push, more than ready now to have this over with. The pattern was quick and repeated itself again, and then again, and again. 

The time clicked away on the clock on the far wall, each passing minute mocking the laboring woman as it turned over the hour. If she had thought she was exhausted before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Sweat dripped from her forehead, small tendrils of hair that had fallen from the bun on top of her head stuck to her flushed skin. She dropped her head onto her husband’s shoulder, soft pants passing her lips as she tried to relax before the next contraction hit. 

Only it didn’t take long, the pain returning before she even had time to think. The contraction had her doubling in on herself, concentrating on bearing down. Her scream originated low in her chest, the sound of it low as it echoed out in the room. Y/n knew that Melek was coaching her, but she couldn’t hear the words anymore, her body too far spent. 

“I can’t,” As the contraction dissipated, she threw her head back and hid her face in the crook of Jensen’s neck. 

“You can, Y/n. Your body was made to do this,” Melek encouraged, a hand on the poor woman’s shoulder. Y/n swatted it away as she let out another sob. 

“No, I can’t. I’m too tired,” her shoulders shook as she let it all out. Jensen turned and placed a kiss on her temple. 

“Honey, if anyone can do this it’s you,” he whispered in her ear. “I know you’re tired and that means you are ready to quit, but you can’t, not yet. Just think about holding our baby in your arms, you are so close.” 

Another sob shook through her as she indicated her disagreement with his words. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to believe him so badly it hurt but Y/n had never felt so defeated in her life. This was finally it and she couldn’t do it. 

“Look at me, Y/n.” He waited for her eyes to open and focus on him. “You can and you will. I’m right here, I’ve got you. You are gonna push this baby out and we are gonna love it so much all this will be a distant memory. Nothing else will matter but the life we created.” 

“You drive a hard bargain,” she hiccuped out with a laugh. Jensen chuckled along with her, offering another kiss to her temple. They nodded at each other, silent words being passed between them just before the next contraction hit. This time she put all her energy behind it, refusing now to be defeated. It was far from easy, but only she could do it now. 

She couldn’t be sure how many contractions later it happened, the only thing she was sure of was the instant relief that washed over her body. Her eyes snapped open as Melek pulled her gook covered baby from the warm water of the tub, holding up its long body so both her and Jensen could see. 

“It’s a boy!” Melek announced, placing the infant against Y/n’s bare chest. It all happened in a second and Y/n was holding her son in her arms. Jensen was peppering her face with kisses and muttering soft praises, his arms wrapped around her and helping the nurse wipe the baby clean. More sobs racked her body as soft cries came from the tiny body in her arms. Everything felt like too much like her whole being was vibrating on some new frequency she didn’t yet understand. It was invigorating and terrifying at the same time. 

“I told you!” Y/n turned to look at her husband, the sobs that had been shaking through her now intermixed with soft laughter.

“Yeah, you did, babe. I’ll promise to never question you again,” the smile on his face grew as soon as he realized what she was talking about. The giggles coming from his wife seemed to seep into him and soon he was laughing along with her. 

Y/n feigned a scoff, chuckles still seeping past her lips and a beautiful smile on her lips. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ackles.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

****

It took a while before anyone was able to pry her son from her arms and even then, she refused to give up to anyone besides Jensen. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the nurse or midwife, she just felt that if she gave him up, the feeling in her chest would go with him. Only the soft voice of her husband was able to coax her out of the bubble she had wrapped herself into. Reluctantly, she handed the infant off to her husband who passed him on to be weighed and measured. 

The nurse was then able to help her out of the tub and into the shower, washing away the remnants of her son’s birth from her body. In that short amount of time, she ached to hold her son again. Her mind couldn’t focus on anything besides him, and it pissed her off. She didn’t feel in control of herself, consumed by the maternal instincts now flooding her neurons. 

When she emerged from the bathroom, Jensen was propped up against the headboard, his legs casually crossed at the ankle in front of him. Discarded still at the foot of the bed was his shirt he had peeled away before they had gotten into the tub, but he had slipped his Nike joggers back on his tall frame. His large hands dwarfed their son, who was only in a diaper, where Jensen held him against his chest. The couple shared a smile before she made her way over to him, climbing gingerly into the bed next to her husband and son. Y/n curled herself into his side as the nurse left them to be alone. 

“Nine pounds and seven ounces, twenty-one inches long,” Jensen smirked down at the sleeping infant. Y/n choked out a breath, her jaw dropping open in the process. 

“Jesus, I’m never gonna be the same,” she blew out a breath. The tired woman laid her head against her husband’s shoulder, her eyes never leaving her sleeping child. She could feel her husband shaking softly with laughter. Mostly, she was just as amused as him, but on the other hand, she wasn’t kidding. 

As she settled into her spot, their son began to stir, his face scrunching into a frown. Jensen moved quickly, pulling the kid away and offering him to his mother. 

“What, the first time he even indicates he might cry and you immediately hand him over to me?” Y/n leans away from her husband, a confused frown etched into her features. 

“Uh, yeah, I don’t have the goods,” the Texan flicked his eyes down at her chest before looking back at her face. He had one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. 

“Okay, how do you even know he’s hungry? Maybe he needs to be changed?” 

“He’s fresh out of the womb and hasn’t eaten anything, you do the math,” Jensen held him out again. Y/n rolled her eyes for effect when the truth was she couldn’t wait to get her hands on that baby again. 

“Well go get the midwife, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Y/n tilted her head towards the door. She had one hand cradling the infant and her other was working to pull her gown away from her chest. 

“Right,” he bounded from the bed, grabbing his shirt as he went and pulling it over his head. The door barely had time to shut behind him before he was returning, Melek in tow. The midwife was more than helpful, guiding Y/n and her baby through their first feeding. It took them a few tries before it seemed like they finally got the hang of it. Melek left them again to the peace of the early morning. 

The sun had yet to breach the horizon but that didn’t stop the birds from putting on a show outside. Jensen had climbed back into bed with his family, situating himself as close as possible to his wife. It gave him the best vantage to watch the miracle they had created. He rested his hand on the baby’s head, rubbing his thumb across the infant’s hair. 

Y/n didn’t even bother averting her gaze as her husband nestled into her side. She was far too transfixed on her son. Every emotion felt magnified a thousand times since she gave birth, to the point where she felt like she might burst. It was hard to sort through them, the exhaustion of her body not helping at all. Now, as she stared down at the precious life she and Jensen had created, the only thing she felt was calm. His eyes were closed as he fed, the soft gurgles and breaths he let out the only noise in the suite. 

“He’s perfect,” she mumbled to no one in particular, she just felt it needed to be said. 

“He really is,” Jensen agreed. “I had no doubt, which is why I got you this.” Y/n tore her eyes away then as Jensen procured a long velvet case from behind him. He offered the object to Y/n who took it with her free hand. 

“What is this? It’s your birthday today, not mine,” she tried arguing.

“Just open it, you dork. Besides, you’ve already given me the best gift I could ever have,” Jensen urged her to open it. His eagerness washed off him as he smiled at her, his hand back on his son’s head. 

Being careful to not jostle the child eating in her arms, Y/n used both hands to flip open the case. Laying against a dark cushion inside was a gold bracelet with a row of seven round stones in the center. She caught the card that was placed inside when it tried to fall away, reading the small paragraph. 

‘Customised with seven beautifully crafted semi-precious stones amidst a string of shimmering beads. Each stone is traditionally associated with various characteristics that also typify those born in that particular month – The March birthstone is Aquamarine, which has a pale blue appearance and symbolizes honesty, loyalty, and happiness.’

The tears fell from her eyes as she read, threatening to turn into full-blown sobs. Y/n sniffed as her emotions continued to get the better of her, using the end of the blanket to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. Happiness. There wasn’t anything she could think of better to describe how she was feeling. It was indescribable happiness that had begun on that New Year’s Eve two years ago and continues through the life she now held in her arms. It was happiness she feared she would never get to experience, and yet, here she was. 

“Jay, this is beautiful. But how-”

“I ordered one for February too, can’t be too careful,” he answered before she could ask, earning a giggle from his wife. “You really like it?” 

“Honey, I love it. I can’t imagine a more perfect gift.”

“Here,” Jensen pushed away from the headboard and offered his hand to take the case from her. She handed it back to him, allowing him to take the delicate bracelet from its setting. He urged her to raise her arm, making quick work of clasping the piece of jewelry around her right wrist. “There, perfect.”

“Perfect,” she agreed. 

****

The midwife cleared Y/n and the baby to go home just before noon that day. They had spent less than twenty-four hours in the birthing center, but as she dressed her son to go home she couldn’t help but feel like she was going to miss it. That stupid little room now held so much meaning to her, and she hated it. The exhaustion and hormones were making her stupidly sentimental. 

As they turned into their driveway, Jensen was forced to pull their SUV into the yard since the entirety of their driveway was filled with cars. He hopped out of the driver’s seat to help Y/n from the car before grabbing the car seat with their son inside. Her husband allowed her to waddle along in front of him, a smirk on his lips when she looked over her shoulder before opening the gate to their home. 

Across the stone courtyard, she could see their family all huddled in front of the expansive window that saw into their living room. Everyone waved excitedly as the new family made their way towards the house. Y/n took in the faces of her and Jensen’s parents, along with her brothers and their families. Jensen’s siblings were too far out to make it right now, but even still Y/n was surprised to see her brothers. Donna and Alan had come down as soon as they called to let them know Y/n was in labor, staying in their guestroom for the coming week to help the new parents adjust. She expected her parents too, even though they couldn’t stay longer than the night, rooming in Jared’s guesthouse and leaving in the morning. But yeah, her brothers were a surprise. 

The family was greeted and the door, an array of excited faces welcoming them home. Someone had hung a ‘congratulations’ banner, with a matching ‘happy birthday’ one just below it. Everyone wrapped the new mother up in a tight embrace before passing her along to the next family member while the kids swarmed Jensen and the baby. It took quite some convincing from the parents to quiet down the little ones, all excited to meet their new cousin and forgetting that they needed to chill out as he was sleeping currently. 

“Alright,” Jared’s voice broke above the commotion of multiple conversations. “As the godfather and the whole reason this child even exists, I call dibs on holding him first!” He looked to his sister, his brows high on his forehead as he waited for her answer. 

“You all are going to get a turn, I don’t care who goes first. But stop saying you are the reason he exists, it’s weird… ” She waved him on before adding, “and don’t forget the sanitizer.”

Jensen lifted the car seat to the island as Jared bounced over to him. He literally was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his sister rolling her eyes as she followed behind him. The giant of a man moved delicately as he pulled the sleeping infant from the car seat. If she had thought her son looked small in her husband’s arms, it had nothing on how he looked compared to Jared. He took the newborn over to sit on the couch, all the cousin’s swarming him in no time. 

“You need anything?” Jensen put his hand on her lower back to bring her attention from their family to him. 

“A water?” She suggested as she looked over to him, knowing she would need it sooner rather than later. He nodded and turned to grab a water bottle for her. A soft ‘oh’ had her turning her head back towards her husband. Jensen stepped out of the way to show her their freezer full of Tupperware of different foods. 

“We all made a few things for the freezer. I know Donna is staying with you for a little while, but once she is gone, you’ll thank me,” Y/n’s mother appeared next to her. 

“Thanks, mom,” Once again she found herself fighting back the tears as she pulled her mother into a tight embrace. Sharon ran her hands up and down her daughter’s back as the younger woman refused to let go. Half of it was not wanting to let go, the other half was hiding her tears in the black sweater her mother wore. When she finally relented, Jensen was standing there with a tissue. He offered it to his wife who took it with a sheepish smile before he also hugged his mother-in-law. 

The group in the kitchen returned to the living room where the rest of the family was, fussing over the baby. Jensen sat down in his chair near the fireplace that was angled to where the rest of the family was on or near the couch. He grabbed his wife’s wrist and pulled down along with him, situating her into his lap. The new mother fidgeted in her seat, struggling to get comfortable. 

“Would you stop that?” Jensen’s voice was low in her ear as he squeezed her legs in a vain attempt to hold her still. 

“I-,” She shifted again with a soft sigh before turning to whisper in his ear. “I’m very sore down there, and your legs are not the most comfortable right now.” His lips formed a thin line as he nodded. Before she could say anything else, he lifted and moved them both so she was situated in between him and the side of the chair, effectively taking the pressure off of her sensitive area. 

“Better?” 

“God yes,” she huffed before snuggling into his side. The couple watched content as their family traded their son around. The looks of amazement from the kids and the near tears from the adults filled her heart more than she imagined it could have ever been before. Just when she thought it was full, it somehow found room for more love and happiness. 

“So, have you two decided on a name yet?” Sharon spoke up as he was passed to her. The older woman was gently bouncing on her feet, her husband peering over her shoulder. 

The new parents shared a look, unsure which of them should answer the question to the information they had filled out in his birth certificate just before leaving for home. Everyone had been asking since they got the news he was officially here, though the couple didn’t have an answer as they struggled to come up with something. Jensen tilted his head to her, signaling that she should answer. 

“Yes, after an agonizing two hours of staring at him and willing him to tell us what his name should be, we finally picked one,” Y/n explained, her husband chuckling next to her at the memory of her talking to him as he slept. “His name is Ezra Jay Ackles.” 

There were murmured compliments and agreements that the name more than fit the little bundle of joy they had just welcomed into their family. Sharon passed Ezra on to his other grandmother, the woman giddy as she took over baby holding duty. Ezra had woken up by now, his dark eyes searching and unsure of the commotion around him, but he had yet to fuss. 

“Did you go with Jay because he looks just like Jensen?” she questioned, not taking her eyes off the infant in her arms. 

“Ugh don’t remind me,” Y/n huffed, her face scrunched up at her mother-in-law’s words. 

“Hey, I thought you liked the way I looked,” Jensen pouted next to her, but she could see the twinkle in his eye. 

“That’s not the point. It would be just my luck that I carried him for nine months, was in labor for over eighteen hours while also needing to feed him every two hours, for him to look just like his dad. Where’s the justice in that?” Y/n frowned as her family laughed at her confession. 

“Welcome to my world,” Gen piped up. “All of them, little clones of their dad.” The Padalecki women all nodded in agreement to that sentiment, much to the annoyance of their husbands. 

“Hey, the Padalecki genes are strong, we can’t help it,” Jared protested, making Jensen throw his head back in laughter. 

“If that’s true then I guess the Ackles genes are even stronger,” the new father countered, earning a shove from his wife. 

“Alright you two, put the rulers away,” her joke got the rest of the room cackling at the boys’ expense. That satisfied the woman more than she would ever admit. 

Not long after the reveal of their baby’s name, the family began to pack things up and head out. It had been a busy and tiring twenty-four hours for the new little family, and their loved ones headed out to give them some peace. Once everyone was gone, Alan offered to go to the store and grab something to whip up for dinner, leaving just Donna with the new parents. 

“Y/n, honey, why don’t you go lay down. I know you haven’t really slept since yesterday,” Donna piped up, noting how the woman’s eyes were getting heavy. She was curled up on the couch next to her husband who was holding their son once again. Donna was picking up the mess left by the family. 

“Mmm that sounds good but he will have to feed soon, I should just stay here,” Y/n answered with a hum. She couldn’t deny, a nap sounded wonderful but everything was about Ezra and his needs now. 

“Couldn’t we just give him a bottle?” Jensen asked, earning a shake of the head from both of the women in the room. 

“No, if you guys are committed to breastfeeding, she’s got to get her milk supply in and the best way to do that is for him to feed. Also, there is nipple confusion,” Donna stated matter of fact with Y/n nodding along the whole time. 

“Nipple confusion?” Jensen looked to his wife, confusion written all over his face. The term sounded familiar to the actor, but he couldn’t for the life of him come up with a definition. 

“It means that Ezra could get confused between the bottle and the breast, and the concern is that he would prefer the bottle,” Y/n explained, her hand absentmindedly running along her son’s cheek.

Jensen nodded in understanding and shrugged, “Not if he’s my son.” 

The new mother reared back in confusion. “Why?” was the only thing Y/n could say after she and Donna looked at him with equal disgust and disappointment. Jensen grimaced under their looks before she continued. “Your mother is in the room.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mom, I don’t know why I said it,” the look of shame on his face morphed into fear as he prepared for a scolding, but that moment never came. Instead, Donna stood and walked over to where they were seated. 

“Alright, give me the kid,” the older Mrs. Ackles reached out for her grandson. Jensen gave him up without question. “Both of you need to sleep. Don’t worry, I will come and get you if he gets hungry.” 

“It’s best not to argue with her when she makes that face,” Jensen muttered under his breath, but not so quiet that his mother didn’t hear him. She raised her brow at him, an action that was remarkably similar to the one Jensen often emulated. 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Y/n agreed, allowing her husband to help her to her feet. Jensen gave his mom a quick peck on the cheek in passing as he pulled his wife along with him to their bedroom. 

Inside the curtains were still drawn from when they had left yesterday, only a small sliver of light peeking into the room from its edges. Neither of them bothered with changing, knowing it was too much work for now. Instead, Jensen just turned down the bed, allowing them to slip under the cool covers. He settled into the pillows, lifting his arm to invite her back to his side. Of course, she obliged, snuggling into his chest with one hand placed where she could feel the steady beat of his heart under her fingertips. 

Jensen wrapped his arm around her, his hand resting against her arm, rubbing soft circles against her skin. He stared up at the ceiling in the semi-dark room, watching the spinning blades of their ceiling fan make countless revolutions. His mind was racing, all the emotions of the last day starting to get to him now that he had nothing else to focus on. 

Y/n was silent as well, but he knew she hadn’t fallen asleep yet, her body still too tense to have fully succumbed to the exhaustion. If he wanted to ever get some shut-eye, he knew he had to get some things off his chest. He needed to let go. 

“You know what this reminds me of?” There was a gruff undertone to his voice, yet it still managed to be soft as he sought to not startle his wife. She hummed in response, letting him know she was listening. “Our first night together. Well, after… everything.” 

“How so?” Y/n shifted so she could have a better view of her husband who now had her full attention. 

“I couldn’t sleep then either. Too much going on in my head,” Jensen took a deep breath, his eyes still on the ceiling as he continued. “I kind of have this tendency to push all my emotions to the side to deal with them another time, even if that other time never comes, but that night, I just… I couldn’t get myself to do it. As I stared down at you, sleeping against my chest with that stupid little content smile on your face, I realized that you were worth all of it, every emotion: the fear, the anxiety, and even the guilt; they were all worth feeling for you.”

The crease in her brow deepened as her husband confessed to her what he went through that night. Jensen looked down at her then, a smile on his face and tears once again pooling in his eyes. He brought up his hand to caress her cheek before continuing. 

“I never believed in love at first sight, hell, I still don’t, because even through all of that fear and anxiety what I felt most of all was love, and that didn’t happen overnight. It happened in the weeks we had spent in the makeup trailer, in the way you trusted me with the things you wouldn’t even tell your brother, and in your sarcastic comebacks that never failed to surprise me. I spent weeks falling in love with you and didn’t even realize it.”

“The only thing I could do was watch you sleep, so irrevocably in love with you that I was scared if I pushed away those bad feelings… if I didn’t consider every possible thing that could wrong from that moment on, that I would lose the best thing in my life now, so that’s what I did, just watched you sleep and go over every possible scenario my mind could come up with of how us being together could go wrong. I know...” He had to stop again, needing a moment to take a shuddering breath. “I know that day when I told you we needed a break hurt you and made you question everything I ever said to you and sure we’re past it now, but I really need you to know that when I came to you that next morning and asked you to go on one date with me, I didn’t make that decision lightly. I had decided before you even tried to sneak out of the guesthouse that you were worth everything.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” After he was silent for a moment, she couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“Because I… I feel so much right now that I can’t shut it out. The love I feel for you and our son right now, I want to stay in that feeling forever. Even if it means facing every fear or anxiety over making sure you both are safe and happy and thriving. I just had to let you know that you two are my whole world now and I will spend the rest of my life never letting you forget it,” Jensen confessed, allowing the tears that he had been biting back now flow freely. Deep down he knew it was what he needed, that release of every emotion before he could truly relax. Just like she also knew that the time for words was over.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she nuzzled back into his side, pressing her cheek against his chest to listen to his heart again. Y/n knew it wasn’t easy for her husband to admit all of that to her. Those true moments where he exposed himself fully to her were rare. Not that she minded, Y/n didn’t need him to cut out his heart and serve it on a silver platter. Her husband was a man of action. He showed her all she needed to know in every first cup of coffee he brings her in the mornings or running her a bath when she needs time alone. Marriage is as much about the little things as it is about any grand declaration. If you asked Y/n, she would take the soft smiles and lingering touches over a grand speech any day, but this was nice too. 

Part 12: Home

Forevers: @22sarah08​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @atc74​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @briagallen​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deandreamernp​ @deanwanddamons​ @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jensengirl83​ @katehuntington​ @lyarr24​ @malfoysqueen14​ @miss-nerd95​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @superfanficnatural​ @supraveng​ @talesmaniac89​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​

Happiness Continues: @afangirlreacts​ @anaelsbrunette​ @ashleyrose0117 @austin-winchester67​ @cno92​ @deanbowlegsackles​ @deangirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dvnmbabe​ @fangirl199813 @spndestiellover​ @hoboal87​ @itsdesiree86​ @jbsgirl4eber11 @let-me-luve-you​ @linki-locks11​ @lunarmoon8​ @neverland14353​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @parinarain​ @rebeccathefangirl​ @rebelemilu​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @squirrelnotsam​ @stoneyggirl​ @supernatural3002​ @traceyaudette​ @winchestergirl82​ @winqhster​ @zpandaqueen​

[mushroom-cartel--writing]

begrudging (love-)blindness

Summary: You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

Relationship(s): Gojo Satoru & Reader, Gojo Satoru/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc.)

Personally, I think this is hot garbage in terms of structure and pacing (it’s loosely all strung together is what I’m saying, but I just needed to get it off my chest before I wrote anything else. Yet... I guess I had fun? Yeah. I did!

There's spoilers from the manga mixed with headcanon.

I still hate spacing and formatting on Tumblr, it sucks. Please, please, please, this is for your own good, click the AO3 link, this fic is such an eyesore on this platform.

|||

There’s a tug at your chest, sending you hurtling backwards and into something hard. A wall. Tiles. Smooth.

The heavens and the earth view one another through a layer of haze of light at night.

There are thousands of people gathering, their footsteps thundering echoes in your ears. Their chatter is a constant hum in the air. It stinks of sweat.

(“The train will be arriving soon. Please stand behind the yellow line—”)

You sigh.

“Dammit, Satoru! A little warning would be nice,” you hiss to the man. You hear him whisper something back but his voice is swallowed up by the crowds and then he, too, is consumed.

You feel him wander farther away from you; not left with much choice, you follow him. And down, down, down you go.

You pause when there’s an invisible wall blocking your path of his own making. “Hey!!” you shout, starting to scream expletives at him from the top of his lungs and he doesn’t look back.

A few seconds pass. The people, these poor, clueless civilians who just want to go home for the night are like sardines in a can, their bodies pushing and shoving. For space. For air. Requiring neither, you phase through the wall and the remaining levels to catch up to him, the thoughts going through your head solely focused on figuring out why he has let you out. He wouldn’t do something like this without warning you beforehand.

Why now? What now?

You pull out from the shadowed cracks of the feeble curtain set up along the fifth floor underground, suddenly feeling a heaviness you hardly ever experience. You run a cursory swipe over his teeth; the blood in the air is fresh, there are more civilians down here than up above, more sardine-ing (their presence is fading away, the above platforms’ panicked din becomes extinguished, it’s ghastly quiet, a moment frozen in time), but no Satoru. Not physically.

He loves you, you know. (You don’t understand though… Why?)

It’s a burden, draining you of what vigour is left in your soul, barely just clinging on to this plane itself.

His love is a curse in itself, really.

"I don't want you to see me hurt," he had said often, back when you were children, oblivious to the power of those words until you got older.

What they meant.

What they did—to him and you.

Still as the wind, you stand together, hands brushing up against each other's, your fingers infected with poison where his is not; the calloused skin and scars shared between you weaving a tale for the ages that will never be told.

You’re both nineteen at heart but certainly not in spirit.

You lean against him, completely unseen, waiting for him to flick his finger back.

Waiting for him to obliterate the first person he thought he could trust outside.

He doesn’t. You disappear for another time, expectant.

His love is a burden and you're not sure where you would be without it.

If he hadn't looked your way, would you be the same person you are today?

It's frightening, these thoughts of yours, but he usually chases them off when he senses them bubbling to the surface. (You want him to be annoyed.) A casual grin and stance, a flick of his wrist, a rush of wind by your side, then the phantom pressure is gone, yes, gone, however—it's never banished completely. It never can be.

You don't remember the colour of his eyes but there's a memory of you claiming they looked like marbles, buried somewhere (somehow), in the back of your mind. Like the marbles you'd smash glass bottles to obtain, their fizzy contents only drained seconds beforehand; stubby, sticky, small fingers sorting through the shards, squashing ants in the process.

Those very same fingers, now, haven't changed a bit, save for the chipped nails and whatnot duress they’ve sustained throughout his life.

You use them to push the blindfold up to his forehead, taking in the surrounding sights.

Why now? The fact that you can feel them, his fingers and everything else—that’s a bad sign. A very bad sign.

You breathe, inflating the faux lungs.

Finally, you see it. The reason why you’re walking and talking and fully corporeal.

You gulp at the living corpse, its stitches wonky and fresh. Cerebrospinal fluid spills from its face in fat droplets and lands upon the clothes of a dead man. Disgusting.

“So I was right in the end,” you say, more for yourself than anyone else. “You’re not Suguru.”

(Satoru owes you a thousand yen. You told him to burn the body immediately. Or, you know, the usual. But what’d he do instead? He went and passed it off to a third party! Man, why’d that old hag have to kick the bucket so soon… If she was still around she’d probably kick Satoru’s dumb ass for trying to be decent.)

“How are you free?” Not-Suguru asks.

The real Suguru wouldn’t ask about your appearance. He would make a comment about how the temperature has dropped and burrow into his collar. He wouldn’t question things.

The real Suguru never acknowledged you, but he knew there was something in the corner of his eye that took the image of his friend and laughed alongside them when they pulled their antics during missions.

The real Suguru is gone.

Who the hell knows where Shouko is.

Yeah. A little warning would have been nice. Real fucking nice.

There’s a cube with a dozen eyes between the two of you, the crater on the ground betrays its unassuming weight. Satoru’s muted presence, a shrunken pearl of light, emanates from the cube.

Not-Suguru follows your line of sight to it.

Giving him an answer would be a waste of your time.

You can’t, they say.

Young master, please, don’t go there, implores the servants and guards.

The elders, his grandmother especially, tell him not to enter the storehouse tucked away in the garden behind an avenue of camellia trees because that’s something they’ll discuss when he’s older.

He doesn’t listen to them, the curiosity of a three-year-old child cannot be satisfied by mere words. (“Let this be known,” the gardener says in his defense, one cold summer’s day. It is raining outside. His grandmother shoots the only person in the compound that doesn’t treat him like a blind fool with a withering glare. He does not see them again until—)

What’s in the storehouse?

A library of cursed objects? Spiritual remnants, artefacts, texts, poisons, weapons?

Maybe the mummified corpse of an ancestor whom they keep around to ward off evil?

Perhaps a curse, frozen in time forevermore?

Maybe it’s nothing and the adults are all in on some kind of elaborate hoax, he figures. Mm, yeah. Sounds about right. No one else knows about the storehouse.

It’s old and earthen. Wild plants curl the walls to one side and splotches of moss grow on the tiled roof. Where the sun hits least is pristine. Clean. He wonders if that’s where the wards are placed, out of sight, out of mind.

Oh.

Standing in the entrance of the open door with bare feet, at the threshold of the aged structure, fulfilling his desire, he learns why they wanted him to remain ignorant.

It’s a child. (A human…? This whole situation is off.) A kid his age. He can’t tell whether or not they’re older or younger. They might be a bit taller, though.

No, he wants to shout, this can’t be it! He stomps his foot. That’s cliché! Boring, boring, boring! Again, he strikes the ground. Ugh, whatever—

A sigh escapes the emaciated figure sitting in the darkness, hunched over themself against the wall of the bare storehouse.

“Ah, my f̶̥̍r̵̝͐̏i̷̳end,” they start, softly. “M̶̹̦͒y̸͍̮̋̚ f̸͉̓̋r̴͇̦̕ǐ̴̦͇e̵̫͠n̷̢͉̅̓ḍ̸̅, my very dear, old friend. You have returned.

“My e̷̳̭̿y̶͈͂e̷͔̭̎͘s̴̭̄̊, have you come to give them back? Ask for several others?

“I have waited for you, as promised. Come. Closer. Please. I do not know how long has passed since I last gazed upon your visage. Do not be afraid.

“I no longer lust for flesh as fervently as before, I will not ask of y̸͖͔̒o̵̳̍u̵͍̘̓ ą̴͕̈́n̵̫̓d̸̛̳͛ y̵̻͑̎o̵̖̥͒͌ų̴͋̐r̵̦̩̓s a sacrifice to please me.”

Their voice is garbled, the resemblance to a broken radio off-pitch jarring his reaction time, a music box opened underwater gurgling, ghosts beat to the rhythm of the blood in his ears and titter buried mysteries.

In the corner of his eyes distant stars burn, galaxies explode to life and die repeatedly, the vast cosmos is shredded apart. Universes are swallowed whole. The plane he stands upon bends to the will of the one whose gifts he uses carelessly to play the role of a deity and dictate the balance of the world.

People have said [they] reflect the very heavens.

His faith wanes.

.

a trio of ragtag orphans,

escapees, survivors and starved,

on the verge of being

no better than beasts,

happen upon a traveller taking respite from the winding roads.

a foreigner no doubt

they guess from the strange hued garb;

rest, everyone around these parts,

they know comes not

easy to scum, scoundrels, sinners and

deceivers alike.

.

.

.

mad ones, rushing to death

—without protection i must add—

oh my darling children, you are!

consume my flesh,

defend those unseeing,

purge the blight

and you shall witness

my return before long, indeed?!

.

They do not move and neither does he.

What he assumes to be their head tilts ever so to the side, gauging him, this fool of a boy trespassing on their domain. This part of the garden, the little boy realises too late, is theirs.

This, the storehouse and now him.

(—the gardener finds him sprawled out on his back come dusk. They help him to his feet and dust him off, the sparkle in his eyes an unusual occurrence; they ask their precious young master what happened and he points them in the direction of the doors sealed shut.

“I took a peek inside,” he lies. Children are supposed to do that, right?

“And what did you find?”

“Nothing.” The gardener knows he’s a bad liar.

“Good. Now come.” They lead him away from the path of the camellias. “Lady Mitsue has been beside herself over you, mister.”

His grandmother hasn’t. She probably knows what he has done and will instruct him to feed the council what they want to hear. My son was too soft, she asserts before and after every meeting with those windbags.

You have to do better.

And his father is dead, so only time will tell who’s right.)

He starts having weird dreams (memories?) several days later.

Trying to ignore them doesn’t work.

Every waking moment is subject to gore.

He has to resist the urge to scratch his own eyes out while he trains.

In the world beneath his eyelids, there are shadowy figures claiming it best he is blinded and locked away and fed what no other soul could hope to consume without issue. And just as they force open his jaw—every night, every time—he wakes up.

Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. Doesn’t know what to make of you.

One day, he dreams of years of living without sunlight causing you to screw your not-eyes shut and look away upon the opening of a door into your domain. When you recover, you turn to the door, the emotion of curiosity tugging for your attention out of the myriad of beings you’ve eaten.

Standing at the threshold, ethereal, desperate and short of breath, is a young man. In his arms is a woman, his wife, you presume. They’re stark shades of white, binary stars of a celestial system long dead.

You smile, recognising them in an instant. “Ah, my old friends, children of my children’s children a dozen times over, tell me, what is it you wish for?”

“My wife and our child,” says the man, “please, I beg of you, save them!”

Oh? A healing? It’s been quite some time since that was last requested of you.

You skitter to the pair’s side and shut the door gently behind them, ushering them further in.

You click your not-tongue at the woman’s state, wondering why no one thought to come to you earlier. If they did, the price they’d have to pay would be much less than what you’re about to tell the man. Humans are such prideful creatures, Satoru knows this, but he can’t help but feel tense as you instruct the man to lay the woman down and state your cost.

First, he opens his mouth. Then it shuts. Opens. Shuts. The man regards his dear wife with something Satoru has never seen before in the eyes of those around him.

His reply?

“I accept—”

A harsh smack to the head disrupts the memory; he looks up, unsurprised to meet his grandmother’s gaze, wrinkled eyes so very much like his own piercing his soul.

“Being distracted in the middle of a fight is unbecoming of you, boy,” she says. “What seems to be the matter?”

He can’t tell her.

He stays silent.

“Satoru.” She raises her hand, fingers crossed, indicating the void’s opening. “We Gojou pride ourselves on our ability to adapt. That is why, in fact, I say my son was too soft. He could not accept that he would lose my daughter-in-law and the child she carried in her womb to common illness. He could not accept that it was impossible to cheat death. He could not accept the position he was placed in. And for that, he died and of the aforementioned two, only you lived. Do you understand?”

No. He doesn’t want to understand.

What is adaptation if they’ve yet to rid themselves of and bow down to your constant presence? Is that not their most fatal flaw?

You eat them.

One life in exchange for another; you told his father it was the only way.

You were given the corpse of his mother a hundred days after his birth by the elders.

Every Gojou after death, you grind their bones between your teeth and their flesh rots at the bottom of your belly. Their soulful essence fights for dominance against the forces of the innumerable curses the clans feeds you—the hate, the sentiment, the sheer bursts of techniques and mighty powers clashing, click, click, click—you embody and absorb the aftermath of each childish scuffle, playing the bored jailer adjudicator. Corpses, tools, objects, energy and flesh. It’s how you’ve lived for so long without light or human thought to taint you: the jujutsu world’s dirty little secret, waste disposal.

You are, to him, unquestionably, terrifyingly lovely.

He loves you for that one reason.

A means to an end, forever.

(The boy, a few days shy of his fourth birthday and inauguration, does not know what love is. He thinks he does, having read the definition in a dictionary in order to familiarise you with modern speech, but love is not a word to be thrown around lightly the way he does.)

“I do,” he lies again, this time, to himself. “I understand everything.”

His sight is black.

He pushes back against the current, against instinct telling him to relinquish control and reaches forward for the dream that he was ripped from.

Your true form towers over his mother’s prone form, dripping ichor and the fluid of loose entrails all over. His father stays seated even when you lift an arm to draw blood, the man facing you without a trace of fear.

“I accept—but on the condition that my child receives your protection.”

“My p̶̹̽r̴̽ͅo̵̠͐ť̷̬e̶̺̊c̶̻̒t̷̙͑i̵̮̓o̶̱n̷̖͂?” Do they not teach the younger generations what that entails?

“Yes. My ancestors wrote that you were a benevolent being in a past life. That you were a kind-hearted human who accidentally drank poison before being found and buried alive, condemned and reviled, forcing you to become what you are now. Does that still not hold true?” His father’s face is hopeful.

It doesn’t. But who are you to tell him that? That ‘benevolent being’ never existed in the first place. You’ve always been this.

The vivisepulture part was true, but the beginning? Debatable. Your memories of ‘being human’ are foggy; you’re not sure if they’re real or someone else’s. Satoru’s is the clearest thus far because you abide within him. And he’s young, there’s little to garner.

What other nonsense has been made truth in the time you have withdrawn from the world?

He wants to go down that rabbit hole.

You grab the cube and run, warping reality in your wake.

You are many things.

Alive, you are first; secondly a parent, a teacher and a friend; cursed thrice times over; quarter something-something or rather by this point; and last, your hollowness complements the damned hallowed.

You are Gojou Satoru but not.

His skin peels off in delicate scales from the speed you’re going.

The first and last time you puppeteer his body, Satoru invokes his father’s contract with you for the second time in his life.

Like the first occurrence, it happens by accident.

(The first occurrence is a stain on your memory.

Mitsue looked her grandson in the eye and tasked him with a futile quest, one that would decide the future headship of their clan. You personally thought such practices outdated but you held his tongue and grit his teeth, faking laughter for the audience they had.

She reminded you too much of your youngest, both in the way she cobbled herself together and how she suspended time long enough to catch a glimpse of you hunched beside him, flickering in and out of her void domain with the ease of a toddler climbing free of their crib.

Beautiful and deadly.

He nearly died.)

He is unaware of the finer details, but where his consciousness ends at getting a scalpel to head, it rouses again with him standing before the man who has the blood of Satoru’s friends on his hands and left him to bleed out undecapitated.

On a high from escaping Izanami’s clutches, he sprouts math and whatever nonsense off the top of his head and ragdolls up, down, across and through the air.

He feels like a being higher than the gods. Doesn’t mean he is, though.

He’s barely in control.

Violent swashes of red and blue fill the sky. He sees beyond his opponent rising from the earth the heavens condemning his breaching unto their space.

“Hey, stranger, did you know purple was her favourite colour?”

“Whose?”

|

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“You are Satoru, right?”

“Yessssss?”

“You… you’ve got a bit of…” Suguru gestures vaguely around the lower half of his face.

“Oh.” You rub the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and see it come back tinged pink. The drying drool on his sleeves is used to rub the rest of the blood away. “Thanks.”

“Have you found her?”

“Amanai? Her body?” Suguru flinches. Your gaze is drawn to the cultists clapping. “Yeah, I did. Sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru says. “I feel like killing these people. Should we?”

“Why?”

“I’m still h̸͓̟͐u̴̦͗n̴͇͈̅͛g̵͔̒̕ŗ̴͕͂͘y̸͚͍͘͘.” Two wasn’t even a snack.

“I’m angry that we failed too. But we can’t do anything now, it’s out of our hands.”

|

Several days later finds him back at the entrance of the storehouse, none the worse for wear.

In the shadow of the building grows a lone weed.

“It’s changed.”

“Of course it has.”

“Will I end up like them?”

“Yes.”

[waywardrose]

On Babbushka

There is a group of well-known writers in the fandom who have been discouraged and put down by one of their own, Zannah - @babbushka​. It happens behind the scenes in DMs. It happens in posts and tags.

In DMs, she has started conversations with seemingly innocent questions. When she doesn't receive the response she was aiming for, she diverts the conversation to criticizing and humiliating the person. She has attacked writers for tagging—or not tagging—a post in a way she deems appropriate. She has gotten into arguments over how characters were portrayed and then tried to claim victimization when the other person wouldn't knuckle under.

She will appeal to her following to attack any fan or creator who has an opinion that differs from her own. She will encourage friends to send rude anons. Those same friends will also DM the target with rude remarks.

Several creators have stopped writing altogether because of their interactions with her.

We are tired of being discouraged. We are tired of being talked down to. We are tired of being bullied. Enough is enough. Under the cut we share our stories, let the chips fall where they may. It's up to you, the reader, to decide whether to support her.

We can only warn up-and-coming writers, artists, fans, and supporters of her behavior.

-

Hope - @callmehopeless

The Australian bushfires of the 2019-2020 season were nightmarish—for those living through it and those witnessing. As the season went on, cries for help increased. Joaquin Phoenix used the time during his Best-Actor acceptance speech at the Golden Globes to call for unity, action, and accountability. Regardless of what we may think of him, it was a thoughtful speech.

Hope, who is an Australian, found Mr. Phoenix's message encouraging and reblogged a gifset of his speech.

That morning, Zannah made a post about Mr. Phoenix's shady past and his association with a known sexual predator. The main reason wasn't because his speech was inappropriate or not timely, but because she didn't think he should be the one to get the attention over other actors who had spoken of the bushfires during the Golden Globes.

While Hope confessed she was scared of the bushfires, scared for her loved ones, Zannah was more concerned with purity. To Zannah it was about the face of the message, not the message itself. It didn't matter that Mr. Phoenix was amplifying support for Australia, what did matter was that he had done bad things.

It was virtue signaling on Zannah's part.

Still, this remains a complicated argument. Can a person who has done bad things actually have something positive to add to a cause? Should we listen to a problematic person if they share an insight? Does it reflect poorly on us to agree with their isolated statement? Will we be canceled, too? What about the bigger picture?

In this case, the bigger picture was hundreds of homes were destroyed in the bushfires and families were displaced. People died, thousands of animals died. And it was because of climate change. Mr. Phoenix called for his rich peers to examine their respective lifestyles and to give back.

Yes, Mr. Phoenix has done bad things. Yes, he has associated with people who have done bad things. His words resonated with people on Tumblr, and they reblogged part of his speech. He said something that gave Hope hope.

Hope was asked by a third party how they could help. She came back with a resource guide for those who wanted to send aid to Australians.

When it became obvious Zannah wouldn't silence Hope, Zannah decided to sub-post about the interaction. There, she accused Hope of being a rape apologist for reblogging a gifset and finding a little comfort in it. Zannah placed her ego before someone who was facing a very real danger.

Side-eying an actor is one thing, shaming a person you know for finding solace during a scary time is another. Hope isn't responsible for which voice got picked up. The only "colors" being shown here are Zannah's. She put her own concerns about being perceived as morally pure above actually supporting a friend.

I'll keep this brief - I knew Zannah for many years. And on one of the lowest weeks of my life, when my suburb was burning down and I feared for my family: she convinced me I was a rape apologist for sharing Joaquin Phoenix's speech asking for action on bushfires. In all my life, I never felt more alone. To add insult to injury, she then posted memes mocking me - something that has stuck with me to this day.

I've had dear friends quit the fandom because of her kinkshaming. I've had people I love message me distraught over what she's said.

Enough is enough.

— @callmehopeless

-

Rose - @the-wayward-rose​

This PM exchange started after I tagged my reblog of Zannah's fic Feast (Cameron Bistle x Reader) with cw: white reader. I had been on her taglist, and I wanted to show support because I liked the fic overall. For context, the reason for my tag is because of this sentence:

"But then you're blushing so pretty and squeezing his hand affectionately and reaching for the handle to the passenger side of his car, and then you're laughing when he swats your hand away to open it for you, and then you're beckoning him down as if to ask a question – only to place a chaste kiss to his lips instead."

This is from Cameron's point of view.

She asked the reason for the tag, and I explained it was because of the use of "blush" to describe Reader's appearance.

She misunderstood my premise. I did not mean only white people blush.

According to Merriam-Webster, blush means "a reddening of the face especially from shame, modesty, or confusion" or "a red or rosy tint."

It is an autonomic response, though. It happens in all humans for body cooling and nonverbal communication. The main problem with using it universally is that melanin obscures the appearance of said autonomic response.

Here's an example of three runners:

The two pale women, left and center, are pink in the face. They are blushing. The woman of color on the right is likely blushing, too. However, the melanin in her skin obscures the blood in her cheeks. She is not pink.

That's the pitfall of the word "blush." The observer can't always see it. We know what it feels like. We all do it. The face and/or neck gets hot. The use of "blush" is shorthand in narrative, and I understand that. Nevertheless, when writing to cater to a reader-insert audience of unknown heritage, writers need to consider describing with universal terms.

Again, she misunderstood my premise. I clarified by asking how Cameron sees the Reader blush under an abundance of melanin:

She sidestepped the physiological explanation to go straight for justification. She tried to legitimize "blush" as "perhaps [this]" or "perhaps [that]" when I stated earlier that blush by definition is pink or is to redden. That's the logic. A noncommittal, covering-all-the-bases, complicated defense diluted the conversation.

With her earlier "I have friends of color, hence I can't be exclusionary" statement, I wasn't sure she would get my point. I take full responsibility for not explaining, too. I should've asked for some time to gather my thoughts, but I didn't. Truthfully, I was unprepared, because I didn't think my insignificant tag would be an issue.

Also, I was confused why she was trying to police my blog.

Her replies came rapidly—before I could mention my confusion—and felt aggressive in the moment. Maybe that wasn't her intention, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

That doesn't take away from the fact that words have meaning. It's why we use specific words. It's not understood in the narrative that her use of "blush" could mean a bunch of things. If I had known, I wouldn't have tagged as I did. How is a reader of color supposed to know that? How does Cameron see Reader's blush if she has darker skin?

As writers, we don't know who is reading. Someone could be very pale or very dark. A person with medium-toned skin can turn a shade of pink or red. A person with darker-toned skin will not. We can't assume all readers are medium to pale. We need to develop better writing skills. We have to include everyone.

Readers of color > White-writer feelings

When I stood my ground, she doubled down, stating I made no sense in my tagging and that I lacked the ability to learn from her. She then diverted the argument, attacking a ficlet I wrote a few days beforehand—which had nothing to do with this argument. The Christian imagery in that ficlet was upsetting to her and "in such poor taste" because she headcanons Flip Zimmerman (BlacKkKlansman) is 100% culturally and ethnically Jewish.

Flip stated in the movie:

"I'm Jewish, but I wasn't raised to be. It wasn't part of my life. I never thought much about being Jewish. Nobody around me was Jewish. I wasn't going to a bunch of Bar Mitzvahs. I didn't have a Bar Mitzvah. I was just another white kid. And now I'm in some basement denying it out loud[...] I never thought much about it. Now I'm thinking about it all the time. About rituals and heritage. Is that passing? Well then, I have been passing."

By his own admission, Flip is ethnically Jewish, but not culturally. These are two separate things, and that should be recognized. While Judaism is ethnically and culturally entwined in ways that other religions are not, one does not equate the other. You can be one and not the other.

At the time, I didn't want her to sic her 3000+ followers on me. I wasn't going to argue further. I asked myself if the ficlet was important and worth anon-hate and realized, no, it wasn't. It was a throw-away.

And since I'm not culturally Jewish, maybe I had misstepped. And since Zannah is both culturally and ethnically Jewish, I asked for her guidance.

She flatly refused my request. I don't know how I was supposed to learn from her if she wouldn't teach me.

It sounded as if she wanted me to delete the whole fic. Like none of it was worth saving because it hadn't been Zannah-approved. I had gone against her headcanon, and the fic was too offensive to fix.

The last sentence was supposed to cover her back from criticism, and it placed all the responsibility on me. Obviously, she was above such petty concerns as someone else's blog or writing. Never mind that she had just attempted to get me to change my tagging system and rewrite my ficlet. On my blog.

Later, I figured out she was only criticizing and not offering a constructive critique. Her argument was not in good faith. It was retaliation for not giving her the obedience she thought she was owed.

This is the passage that offended her:

"It’s because of the way he fucks you. Like it’s confession—though he’s never been much of a church-going man. Every touch, every thrust, is a truth between you. Even when it’s rough and greedy. It feels like flagellation when you claw his back. He wears the sin proudly."

This is what I edited it to:

"It’s because of the way he fucks you. Every touch, every thrust, is a truth between you. Even when it’s rough and greedy. It feels like flagellation when you claw his back. He wears your marks proudly."

Yeah, I'm not pleased with the revised passage. It's lost its teeth, but I keep it.

The anonymous message(s) she mentioned weren't very anonymous, either. Unfortunately, I've since deleted the two messages. I had apologized to Anon for disappointing them. I said that if the fic was too much, they should unfollow and block me. I meant that in a self-care way. At the same time, I did not—and do not—owe anyone discourse. I don't have to explain my art when it doesn't hurt anyone. And no one was hurt by some purportedly misplaced religious imagery.

I have been silent about this since late January/early February. I was embarrassed. I had been bullied into changing my blog and my fic by someone who proclaims to never do anything of the sort. I had been a fool. Since this conversation with her, I have been blocked/blacklisted by third-parties, most likely at her behest, when none of this exchange had been necessary.

-

Kassanovella - @kylorengarbagedump​​

Zannah's followers have asked her about Kassanovella’s Fix Your Attitude. For context, it's currently one of the most kudo-ed fics for Kylo Ren x Reader on AO3. It had a bit of a renaissance earlier in 2020 because a TikToker wrote a song for it.

There is nothing wrong with not wanting to read a fic. If the subject matter doesn't work for a reader, they don't have to partake. Easy as that. So, these tags aren't a problem.

However, it led to this...

She lashed out, calling Kassanovella's fic a joke. A joke.

She implied her fics should be as popular as Kassanovella's because she works really hard on them. She admitted she's tied to the metrics. She implied she wouldn't be writing fic if not for the external validation.

Here's the thing about fanfic: readers like what they like. They don't care about a writer's effort. They only know what works for them. They comment and give kudos, reblog and like what they connect with. That is not under the writer's control. All a writer can do is try their best and concentrate on what they're passionate about.

To bash another writer's fic because it's popular is disrespectful. This whole bitter rant drips of entitlement and is an affront to Kassanovella.

Some time later, an incident happened in a chatroom during a streaming event for veterans by Arts In the Armed Forces (Adam Driver's organization). At least one fan brought up Fix Your Attitude while waiting for Mr. Driver to make an appearance. They were also disrespectful towards the other presenters by demanding to see Mr. Driver. It caused a big stink within the fandom, and Zannah had some choice words.

While mentioning the fic during the livestream was inappropriate, it was also inappropriate to throw all fans of the fic under the bus as she did in her tag. Sweeping generalizations and incriminations of a subset of fans certainly reads as if she resents those fans for a perceived slight.

Next, Zannah made an earlier disparaging comment about Kassanovella's fic, Little Bird. Unfortunately, that comment is lost. However, the messages supporting the comment remain. (For context, Little Bird is a Kylo Ren x Reader The Handmaid's Tale AU. It has been well received in the fandom, earning thousands of kudos on AO3.)

What an author wants to write about and sexualize is their business. Fantasizing about being dominated by Kylo Ren isn't cringe. It's a sexual fantasy. Some sexual fantasies can be disturbing to those who do not share the same kink.

Sexual fantasies are like ice cream. There's a reason why there are different flavors.

Also, "I will never ever be a person that tells an author what to do or not do" is an absolute lie. As evident in this post, Zannah most definitely tells authors what to do or not do.

Again, she bashes Kassanovella, claiming her writing isn't good. Her motivation for bashing Kassanovella can only be speculation. With Zannah's previously stated opinion of Fix Your Attitude, though, it indicates a certain level of negative emotions.

-

Anonymous

An anonymous person came forward with a case of Zannah policing their blog. Anon has a sideblog for their personal AU with Flip Zimmerman. They reblog gifsets and post headcanons. They were an enthusiastic fan of Zannah's and reblogged a few of the gifset she made. Anon tagged their reactions, and Zannah blocked them for it.

Anon went to Zannah and asked why they were blocked, because all they wanted to do was have fun and support fellow Flip lovers.

Anon was under the impression that because they were shipping themselves, and not Zannah, with Flip, she blocked them. Their personal AU doesn't align with Zannah's headcanon that she alone is married to this character and has his children.

While Zannah's reply may sound innocent, and perhaps it is, it also speaks to someone who has set herself up as the owner of Flip Zimmerman. (Wait until Spike Lee or the real Ron Stallworth hears about that...) It appears that if a fan does not comply with the Zannah-approved headcanon, where only she is married to Flip, that fan shall be blocked. If a fan uses tags on their blog that she does not approve of, that fan will be blocked.

Zannah's policing is disturbing. Going into a blog to look for something as a reason to block is disturbing. Any fan is allowed to use any tag on their blog how they wish. If the OP has said their post can be reblogged, how a reblogger tags is beyond the OP's control. To punish that reblogger for not behaving in a way she finds acceptable is uncalled for and unjust.

-

Anonymous

Backstory: Zannah does not view Ben Solo's arc in the Star Wars sequel trilogy as acceptable canon. However, she does view the story she created for Flip Zimmerman in BlacKkKlansman as completely canon.

This is not the first time she has been asked to clarify her position. Nor is it the first time she has avoided giving an on-topic response. A question asked in good faith should be responded to in kind.

If a creator doesn't want to address the issue, they can state that they don't. Deflecting from the question only muddies the waters. Fans feel dismissed. The creator feels hounded, and comes across as irritated and unapproachable. No one has a positive fandom experience.

There is nothing wrong with having a headcanon. What is wrong is Zannah mandating her headcanon for Flip on the whole fandom. As evident in this post, if a fan does not comply with her headcanon, they will be summarily blocked.

Also, there is nothing wrong with rejecting canon. Writers of transformative works have always done this. The problem is shaming fans who have accepted canon while not offering justification for that shaming. A creator saying they "can't help them" is the creator washing their hands of responsibility from articulating their thoughts when they themselves began criticizing the canon in the first place.

Again, this is a bad-faith argument. Creators can't ask for discussion and attention and then get mad when their viewpoints are challenged. Just because a discussion isn't going a creator's way doesn't mean it's an attack, either. It means people want clarification, and if one criticizes, they should be able to back up their criticisms.

-

While sharing our stories has been freeing, it's not our aim as fellow fans to cancel Zannah. We would hope she would take the opportunity to reflect on the damage she has done to the fandom. We hope we all can move forward with a more approachable and supportive scene.

No one person speaks for our fandom. The actions of one fan do not represent the entire fandom. Whether creator or consumer, you are welcome here.

[posted July 25, 2020]

[commonwealthoccurences]

Cheers (Elder Maxson)

Note: We’re assuming Sole is around the same age as Maxson in this; a middle-aged Sole with 19 year old Maxson is an iffy concept to me. Thank you to the Discord server for fixing my writers block! Also, weird analogies for 500, anyone? Mildly OOC Maxson.

CW: Potential death mention, abstract/rhetorical poisoning

It’s easy, Sole thinks at the end of the day, to drink poison. To tilt your head back and surrender to what may come, no matter what. It’s easy to allow yourself to be captured in the will of whatever's been mixed into your glass, slightly acidic, barely masked, and pretend to be unknowing. Knowing Elder Maxson has been like drinking poison, and so, they think it must be very easy to allow oneself to do so.

They’re staring into the wine that’s been handed to them, a deep plum color swirling in the foggy glass it’s been poured into. In another timeline, this wouldn’t be the last they’d share with him, and there was a much more content life waiting for them at the end of their internal battles. But they often told themself they weren’t one for wishful thinking, and with that, returned their attention to the man himself, who sat, quiet and contemplative, across from them.

On any other evening he’d be lounged across the plush cushions next to them, a sharp contrast to the usual appearance he showed every other member of the Brotherhood. There’d be a lazy grin on his face, a little too much wine wiping away the stern expression that’d been burned into the lines of his skin, and the two of them would be deep in the throws of a playful debate. Sole had lost that privilege, though.

Just as Maxson had lost the privilege of seeing them with their head tilted back, a laugh shaking their frame, delight taking over the weight of the world that they held between their strong shoulders. Two friends, or something more, turned strangers. What a twist. “Is this it?” Sole spoke up. Maxson had resumed his public facade, and they knew he wouldn’t be the one to break the silence.

“I suppose it is.”

The meeting of their gazes brought both of their internal battles to the forefront, images of warfields flashing between the pair. Sole clenched their jaw and tilted their head up, still trying to remain casual in the way they spun the wine in the glass. They didn’t dare take a sip; they wouldn’t put it past him to actually poison it, and as much as they cared for him, there was a reason the air was so tense.

Sole had made it into the Brotherhood a little shell shocked from their experiences with the Wasteland, looking for structure and someone to have their back as they fought to survive. Of course, the Brotherhood was much more than that, and didn’t hesitate to introduce their bigotry, disguised as defensive beliefs, as soon as Sole stepped through the doors to the Prydwen.

They were unsure at first of where they stood. Ever the scholar, they tried to remain neutral and stand back, observing, as they made their way through the beginnings of their Brotherhood experience. Other than Nick Valentine, they had never met a synth; maybe he was an exception, and the Brotherhood was right in the idea that they weren’t to be trusted. They’d found themself in the company of Elder Maxson more than once at this point, eager to look through the cracks of the mask he wore and get to know the man behind the ideology, the intense scowls, and the unwavering leadership. They’d begun to debate as a pastime, and slowly, as the tapestry of his beliefs came into full view, they found themself suffocated.

The threads were frayed, woven by generations beforehand. Maxson’s contributions were made for no reason other than that he was told it was right, to add strength to a fabric that only caused pain to those that were innocent. Sole found themself edging closer to the tapestry with a thread ripper and magnifying glass, wanting to take apart every argument and excuse and bring forward the man behind the brainwashing that the Brotherhood was so fond of, but it was too late. It seemed that the threads had been woven into his skin as well, leaving no person outside of his anti-synth ideology.

They needed time away, and after one particularly intense debate-turned-argument, they asked for it. Maxson knew what was happening as soon as they were hesitant to look him in the eye, and when they finally did, there was no vulnerability like he was once given access to. They were choking on the smell of his soap and aftershave, suffocating on the tenseness flooding the room, and needed to get away to think.

After a month in Sanctuary, listening to synths and humans alike recount their tales, their life experiences identical in the way that both types of people hurt and thrived, became overjoyed and mourned losses, Sole went to seek out answers. In the back alleys of Diamond City they heard whispers of an organization, and went to find the Railroad.

They had a long talk with Deacon, looking over his own tapestry with a magnifying glass, shielding their eyes from the reflective, joking threads, so they could see the life lessons hidden beneath. Despite how hard it was to access, they found his tapestry much warmer, if not a bit worn from how many had taken refuge under its fabric. Every time they dug in and pulled at the threads, trying to find a fatal flaw, it held together like no other. One month away and they knew what they had to do.

It was hard to return to the Brotherhood, knowing their days there were limited. They’d seen the people before the ideology, instead of the other way around, and once considered many of them friends. But at the end of the day, the ends of their tapestries were coming loose, and Sole could no longer justify sticking around. They were smarter than that.

Maybe it was obvious, and a little immature, but they avoided Maxson upon their return to the best of their abilities. He tried to reach out to them, calling them in for meetings, upon which they kept their answers short and didn’t give any information as to what they had been up to during their escapades away from the Prydwen. But at the end of his third try, when his expression changed from curious and a little hurt to hardened and stern, they knew he understood. They had their own tapestry now, and didn’t need the refuge of any others. Certainly not his.

So when he invited them to one last evening together, they accepted. There was nothing they weren’t prepared for as they walked through the doors to his quarters and settled down on the couch. It was easier than they expected it to be, but they supposed the time away had already given them the opportunity to sever any hesitancy they would’ve once held.

They found themself indifferent to the intense discomfort in the air that would’ve pinned them to their seat just a month ago. Their breath remained in their lungs, their hands didn’t shake. They tilted their glass and stared at the liquid inside before placing it on the table in front of them and folding their hands together in their lap. “I sincerely hope you don’t plan on doing anything stupid, Sole.” Maxson’s voice was harsh, biting. He sipped his own drink.

They found a small smile betraying their lack of fear of the man in front of them. With a light sigh they glanced out the window. “Arthur, please. Let’s not pretend you haven’t been picking apart my brain for the last few months in the name of getting to know each other. Do you really believe me to be stupid?”

“I didn’t. And then you left for a month and returned doubting Brotherhood ideals. It seems you still have time to prove me wrong.”

“I think we can both agree a resistance to brainwashing is the exact opposite of stupidity.”

Sole sighed and brushed the palms of their hands down their thighs. They stood with little hesitancy and made their way over to one of the windows that decorated the walls of Maxson’s quarters. The view was one of the few things they’d miss about the Prydwen.

Of course, they supposed they could understand how members of the Brotherhood became so out of touch with the Wasteland. Everything felt so untouchable from their perch in the sky, rocking gently in the light winds that flooded the ground with radiation. Staying, surrounded by the hivemind and far away from any contradicting opinions, would’ve been the death of any independent thought from Sole.

They would miss Arthur, not Maxson, and the way they thought they were two separate people just a few months ago. It was easy to pretend, when he had been less than sober and forgot everything he thought was his responsibility. His thoughts flowed more readily into speech; the first slip he had made was calling Sole beautiful as they leaned against that very window, looking up at the stars that almost appeared to be within reach from where they sat in the sky.

It had caught Sole by surprise, though they supposed it shouldn’t have. Yes, Arthur was in a position of power, arguably one of the highest in the Wasteland across the factions, but they had spent enough time with him at that point to know he fell victim to alcohol. Well, that’s what they pretended.

Arthur was no lightweight. They could see it in the way his movements still remained controlled in contrast to his words. It was an excuse, they’d realized, after just two nights, to say what was on his mind instead of what he had been taught to say.

Maybe that’s why they thought they could get to him at first. Unravel some of the tapestry that had dug deep into his skin and latched onto his mind. It seemed as if he wanted free of the Brotherhood mindset and the way everyone looked to him. It showed when they were together in the low lamplight of his quarters, alone in a space that didn’t allow for his facade, and he looked 19 again instead of aged beyond recognition.

His hand brushed across their cheek and they fought hard to keep their attention out the window; they wouldn’t let him exploit vulnerability that should’ve never been given in the first place. They were hyper aware of the placement of his hand, knowing that into two smooth motions they could be on the floor, dead. Instead, he hooked a finger under their chin, and they felt a kiss placed to their forehead. Then, he was out of their space and across the room, busying himself behind his desk with paperwork. They were dismissed, for the last time.

Just a week later, it was easier than expected for the words to spill out of their mouth and into Deacon’s ears. Descriptions of the Brotherhood’s guard shifts, the weakest point of their aircraft, protocols and every hidden weapon they knew about. They didn’t choke, didn’t waver. They had seen too much upon their return to the Railroad; synths injured from the hate the Brotherhood had spread, members fatally wounded when they jumped to defend. Sole had reveled too long in the privilege of ignorance and the company of a man who, despite being tragically indoctrinated, they could no longer lend sympathy to when they had to bear witness to the consequence of his actions.

Maxson’s last mistake was assuming that the silent goodbye they’d shared just one week earlier would be their last. Sole was ready to take a torch to his tapestry, and they were the last person he should’ve assumed was stupid enough to let him go easily.

[ashenburst]

Let It Happen

Fugo x Reader, fluff, 3861 words. Y’all aren’t in a relationship, but you might get into one after the events of this oneshot <3

Purple Haze has a special role here!

A new mission landed in Buccellati's hands. A retaliation ought to be carried out. That alone was a peculiar request, for Buccellati's team wasn't meant for these tasks – but since a higher-up commanded so, no reluctance would be shown. You and Fugo were chosen to do the dirty deed.

This selection was odd too, in your opinion at least. Despite being in the group for a month or so, you picked up on many patterns in their dynamics. When it came to missions, for example, Fugo participated by far the least. Buccellati avoided sending him for some reason. You assumed that his stand simply wasn't adequate.

Thinking more about it, you concluded that it truly was unusual. That and the fact that, out of all team members, you grew to be the closest to him, and yet did not know anything about his ability.

You had the opportunity to ask, but chose not to. You were no nosy type, and you wouldn't pry in case someone didn't wish to speak. You realized right at the beginning that these abilities wouldn't be easily shared with you, for you were new. The general distrust taught you not to snoop, and you were fine with that.

Fugo evidently had no desire to bring up his stand, so why rile him up? It wasn't even that important. Someday, you would find out its power, the same way you chatted to the Pistols and observed Aerosmith's pirouettes.

Understanding and patient as you were, this slow, mannered approach of yours earned immediate approval among your teammates. You recognized your boundaries and never overstepped them, thus remaining on everyone's good side. Even Abbacchio took a quick liking to you. And according to Fugo, that was extraordinary.

Things would reveal themselves on their own, in the right place and time, you reckoned. Upon being assigned your mission, this mindset was awarded. You glanced over to Fugo, knowing you'd soon get to see his stand in action.

"If it's no problem, Buccellati, I just have to finish correcting Narancia's assignments, then we can go," he explained to the team leader. Buccellati nodded in agreement.

"Make sure you're quick."

"Absolutely! Looks like Narancia has been improving, so this will be fast. In fact, he hasn't made a single mistake."

Narancia was sitting next to Fugo with a massive grin, staring at the many check marks and not a single cross on the paper.

"Not a single mistake, you say?" Mista repeated.

"Not a single mistake indeed," Fugo confirmed, vastly proud. This only made Mista laugh.

"Should I tell him?" Mista turned towards Abbacchio, and the white-haired male chuckled. They exchanged mischievous looks. You knew nothing good would come out of this, and so your brows knitted together in worry. Looking back to Narancia and Fugo, you noticed the once grinning boy had a slightly panicked expression. Just what was happening...?

"Tell me what?" Fugo too was beginning to get wary.

"Nothing!" Narancia abruptly responded instead of Mista. He couldn't have made himself more suspicious, you thought, squinting your eyes. You were absolutely certain he was hiding something and he was hiding it from Pannacotta Fugo. Did Narancia value his life that low?

You truly didn't want to see your dear friend vexed all over again, simply because of that boy's silly scheme. So you watched carefully, trying to dismantle this mess in your head before it would be too late.

The gunslinger laughed again, this time with a hand over his mouth. The fact even Abbacchio couldn't keep his amusement to himself, and instead smiled profusely, was enough of an omen.

"Boys, what are you hiding?" Buccellati's question was supposed to bring out some clarity in this situation. However, it failed to, for nobody wanted to speak up.

Fugo skewed the topic a little. "I have no idea what's happening, but I should announce that Narancia hadn't made a single mistake. Good job!"

"Hehe. Easy peasy lemon squeezy," Narancia responded to that.

"Gimme a high five, Narancia," Mista suggested and bent over the table, his hand in the air for Narancia to... not high five it. He shook his head no in awkward refusal.

"Why not?" Mista faked his sadness. "Come on, a little high five. Low five? Any five?"

Narancia grimaced. You rolled your eyes and offered your insight. "Is it that hard to lift your hand and high five Mista? Look." You did it instead of Narancia, which caused Mista a radiant grin. Despite this, the black-haired boy refused. Your doubts were fueled in abundance.

"Is there a reason why you don't want to show your hands?"

Narancia stuck out a tongue at you and lifted his left hand. "Nah. And is there a reason why Fugo and you are being late for the mission?" Oh dear, he was getting too defensive, which you noted with a blank face.

"Narancia!" Fugo scolded. He tried to reach out to the boy's right hand, but Narancia moved it away.

"Narancia, behave yourself immediately and stop this nonsense," Buccellati silenced him. He looked at you, then Fugo. "And you two aren't being late. I believe I know what's behind this farce, so there's no need to ruin yet another table to find out." The leader glared at Narancia and Fugo who were both in uncomfortable positions.

"It's evident, Buccellati. He's been cheating and wrote the answers on his hand," Fugo hissed, letting go of Narancia's biceps. The boy winced.

"On his fingers, to be exact," Abbacchio added nonchalantly.

"Oh fuck off," Narancia grumpily cursed and crossed his arms. Buccellati told you and Fugo to leave, and that he would deal with this problem himself. He tossed you the car keys with a chilling look. It was eerie, you had to admit. But you were glad you didn't get to witness Buccellati's anger, and thus were left with something just a tiny bit better: an annoyed Fugo.

Consequently, the mission began in silence. The two of you exited Libeccio with little to no information available. You knew the location of only one of your targets, and through that one man, you were supposed to find other people behind this conspiracy against the Famiglia. This was a job for your stand, obviously – you would pinpoint and track any target once it's marked. However, it had no destructive power, because it was literally a pair of binoculars. What could you do with them, hit someone in the head?

That was where you supposed Fugo's stand would step in. Something deadly for sure, to kill off everyone in this group. If what Buccellati had heard was correct, they had a meeting later that day, meaning all of them would be gathered on one spot. Convenient for killing.

You reached the car Buccellati was kind enough to borrow. You unlocked it and were about to enter, when you felt Fugo's hold on your hand. "I can drive," he offered.

"Are you sure?" Being the newest member meant you had the honor of driving others every single time, and you were used to that obligation. Seeing that Fugo could do that instead of you was... a surprise, simply put.

Although you asked such a meaningless question, Fugo found a reason to be annoyed. The violets of his eyes turned a shade darker. "I wouldn't be offering that if I weren't sure."

Sure, having a literal hedgehog of a person by your side wasn't too pleasant. But he was surprisingly easy to read. At the slightest signs of his irritation coming, you would make sure to avoid any future provocations. It wasn't a hard thing to do, not at all.

Fugo had good intentions and if his problems with rage were overlooked, you knew he would be an absolute angel. This time, similarly, he was trying to help. It was something you could only appreciate. So you nodded and responded, as calm as you could get, "Then thank you for being a gentleman. That's very nice of you."

Internally, you weren't as relaxed. What was it that you had just said? You bit your tongue. It sounded so weird, didn't it? But you just wanted to compliment Fugo.

And every time, he'd be positively baffled. He let go of you, his gaze switching its focus back and forth between your hand and your peaceful visage. Lastly, he smiled. Of course he did. "Why, it's nothing! You're welcome!" The way he'd always brighten at your understanding nature, ever so shyly, ever so innocently – it was something that never failed to make your heart flutter.

. . .

When Buccellati said you wouldn't be late, he was absolutely right. The man you were after was in his house and did not move at all. It took you about an hour of waiting to finally see him leave his residence, and hopefully, head to the remainder of the conspirators. But beforehand, you made sure to comfort Fugo about Narancia's cheating; luckily, it worked, and Fugo was quick to thank you.

After you had spotted the target with your stand, marked it on the tiny map on the binoculars, you followed the man's drive all the way to the rural parts of Napoli. Fugo wasn't exactly... the gentlest driver out there. Every now and then (to be exact, every time he would hit the brakes or start accelerating), you were reminded that it would've been way better if you were the one at the steering wheel. Oh well, too late to change that.

The neighborhood you were lead into was in deep neglect, and yet, nature found a way to make it pretty. Rebellious was the grass all around, falling over the sidewalk, and an occasional flower laid here and there to further disarrange the scenery. Trees grew in unorderly batches, not a single straight line to mark a well-planted row. Amongst the green, buildings were a scarce sight, but nothing short of unpleasant. Most were vandalized in one way or another, and the usual warm, prideful architecture in Napoli's center was completely absent in their build. It was almost as if you were in a completely different city.

The good thing about this tracking situation was that you didn't have to see the target's car, you had the map on your stand. Consequently, the target would have no guess that he was being followed. You were far enough not to be noticed.

And once the target slowed down, you knew he was on his feet. You informed Fugo and he, unfortunately, sped up. Dashing through the streets, the two of you quickly reached your target's proximity. That was when you told Fugo to park the car, which he did, albeit sloppily.

You got out of the car and walked to the house inside which the man had gone. You checked once again if the location on your binoculars' map matched the one you were in front of. It did. Your spot on the map was almost the same as that of the marked man's.

"He's in there," you confirmed.

"I'll send in my stand to get this over with," Fugo told you in a hush, "but we'll have to get near."

He walked over to the brick wall, and you followed. He leaned against it, standing by the window, then lifted a hand towards you.

"(Y/N)? Would you please move a little?"

You nodded and backed off. "Your stand?"

He nodded back. Next to him, the long-awaited mystery of a stand emerged. It was an oblique humanoid figure, shrouded in...

"Purple Haze!" Fugo presented his somber stand, and to announce his appearance, Purple Haze groaned. It wasn't only the jarring sound that abandoned his mouth. Through bared teeth and the stitches on his mouth, saliva, yes, so much saliva dripped – down his chin, onto the ground in long slivers. Tethered above was a pair of manic eyes that screamed of bewilderment, and spoke to you with its deadly stare. A sleek visor, curling down like a preying beak, was the only frail filter between you and Purple Haze's aggressive gaze.

The remainder of his attributes were sent into oblivion. You could not redirect your attention. It was wholly, utterly enslaved to this bane's eyes and its low growls. Was this monstrosity the manifestation of Fugo's soul?

One elaborate scene lasting a single instant, no more. That was enough to render you terrified. The very next moment, Fugo had his stand enter the house through the window – he cracked the glass with a high kick and swooped inside, that menace.

Fugo's menace. The mafioso stared back at you, his expression darkened by newfound misery. Your shock must've impacted him, and you knew, he felt bad for petrifying you. He told a lengthy explanation for you to, perhaps, calm down. To console you.

"My stand is capable of releasing a deadly airborne virus. Since our targets are inside with Purple Haze, the virus won't reach us. Everything will be over in no time." Having finished that sentence, Fugo paused – screeches began rising from the house. "So there's no reason to worry. You're safe and sound," he assured, then looked away.

Truth be told, you weren't even scared, rather – intimidated. That's what you had told him to ease him, then sat on the warm curb right at your feet. Yes, this had to be over soon. Judging by the croaking screams, you were positive it wouldn't last long. Otherwise, you'd go insane. It was deeply unnerving to sit idly next to carnage, and not do anything else but take in the death.

But the wails died down, and another sensation would come in. You heard a thump next to you, footsteps nearing – and that frightening gruff hum tagged along. You looked upwards, and saw none other than Fugo's stand. He bore into you with his intense pupils. Their severity could not be handled. Reflexively, you jumped on your feet, staggering backwards, and were about to scream for Fugo when you realized something was happening.

Your brows knitted together, you blinked, once, twice, thrice, unsure if you were seeing this right. Purple Haze ducked and picked a flower from the ground. He lifted it, a gesture meant for you and you only.

"Purple Haze...?" You whispered, not believing your vision a single bit.

Fugo's stand was murmuring incoherent gargles, hand still in the air, delicately holding the plant for you to take it. With his head hung low, the helmet hiding his face, it seemed almost as if he was... ashamed. If it weren't for the stark impression from before, you were certain you'd find this adorable.

And you were about to accept the precious gift when the stand user began yelling.

"Purple Haze! What the hell are you doing?!"

The stand made some guttural sounds, probably out of dissatisfaction, then turned towards his user. You, on the other hand, had to jump to the side because Fugo was yelling right into your ear.

You lifted your both hands, ready to cover your ears. "What's wrong?"

"(Y/N), get away from him. Right now!"

"B-but why?"

His fists balled up. "Just do it!" His sharp order made you flinch.

Strangely, although Fugo had ordered you to move, he got rid of his stand before you made more than a step. The ominous apparition vanished with a sound you could only perceive as sad – and so, the flower it had once held floated down to the ground. A sorrowful sight that trapped your fixation for a second or so. Afterwards, Fugo was heard.

"(Y/N), come here right now, please, just come," Fugo called out. You managed to discern desperation in his plea, but did not understand the excessive worry. It would be right to say you were slightly disturbed by the entire turnabout of events – and so, you quietly complied.

Once you reached him, he did not comment. You two began walking towards your car. He bore a grumpy façade, and likewise, shrouded his surroundings in uncomfortable silence. You debated if breaking it would be a good idea – you were unsure if you did something wrong, but then again, this guy could get stressed about the most minor of details.

As you saw for yourself, he had control over his stand. So why did he get so angry?

"Fugo."

"What?" He almost spat.

"I don't know what happened and why you reacted the way you did, but everything is fine. Nothing bad has happened."

Fugo grumbled in response. "Nothing bad has happened now, that's true. But promise me you will keep your distance from my stand."

"If it unsettles you that much, then no problem, I promise I'll do that." You tilted your head in his direction. The gloom in his expression had not faltered. "What's the deal with Purple Haze? Are you scared you can't control your stand?"

He snorted. "Absolutely not. I can control Purple Haze, but accidents happen, and I can't afford a stupid, preventable accident to cost an entire life. Your life. What if one of the sockets carrying the virus cracked when you took the flower? They're on his knuckles." Fugo lifted a fist. "You could've died then and there."

The gravity of the situation finally presented itself. With a nod and a newly formed lump in your throat, you acknowledged his explanation. You understood that his behavior stemmed from worry – so you couldn't help but feel bad for him, and yourself as well.

The risk was real and you could've succumbed to it. It was through dumb luck that you survived, and you knew that – but Fugo must've felt far worse, for it was him that the death would be blamed on.

"I'm sorry," you finally said, just in case. This surprised him.

"Why?"

Whereas others would continue blabbering or even arguing, inconsiderate in their wake, you were wise enough to stop. Just a little bit of patience did wonders. For you, to think things through – or even, to fasten your hold on the reins of usually wild conversations.

You happened to be one of the rare people willing to reconcile, sort things out peacefully. Compromise was what you were after; Fugo deserved it.

For he was a good person after all. He would eventually overcome his agitation and accept his faults. You knew this, and you knew how much he struggled to do so. Making things easier for him was the least you could do; you cared for him.

"For making you worry. I just didn't understand what was happening at the moment or why I might be in danger."

And it was through your apology that Fugo would find a reason to apologize himself.

"O-oh. It's fine. I... uh..." You heard him heave an aggravated sigh. "Never mind, you shouldn't be apologizing, it wasn't your fault anyway," he mumbled. Tone low paired with a tongue soft, you knew he was gradually calming down. Oddly, it relieved you as well.

Now, to lighten the conversation. Something very relevant. "It's okay. But hey, you have to admit it was super sweet of your stand to give me the flower," you pointed out.

You noticed that Fugo's jaw had clenched before his unconcerned reply. "And weird too. I wonder why he did that." He stopped in his tracks, thus confusing you.

"Something wrong?"

He was looking sideways, to the ground, at the moment you questioned him. Once he heard you, he whipped his head towards you, his eyes wide. "Not really. But give me a moment, please!" Then he stepped aside, to the very edge of the sidewalk, and squatted. You got even more confused.

When he stood up and turned around to face you, in his hand you saw a petite flower, similar to the one Purple Haze had once picked for you. But Fugo went a step further – he bowed, and even exclaimed dramatically:

"I'm sincerely sorry for lashing out on you. Please accept this flower as my humble apology!"

Oh, Fugo. Constantly nervous and so deeply insecure he was, fixing his mistakes and stepping over his rage, with countless of apologies and countless of tremors. His act was that of chivalry, and warmed your heart it did, however, his very own core was left in a qualm.

And the fact saddened you. You tried to joke around to make him laugh, if anything, to brighten his mood.

"Copying Purple Haze? So unoriginal." You rolled your eyes in a playful manner.

But Fugo, that poor boy, he misinterpreted your action. An awkward expression formed on his face as he straightened his back. "Well... you liked it when he did that...? So, uh..." His stammers were horrible to listen to. You had to do something, but what? How to show him that he was appreciated, forgiven? Show him –

You sighed, shook your head lightly. If it meant that you'd have to overstep your boundaries, then so be it.

Fugo's guard was low, so you took advantage of that to dive in for a tight hug. He simply froze – this surprised him vastly, you were certain. You were surprised as well. Purple Haze? That was nothing. Hugging Fugo was dozens of times scarier, or at least that was what your heartbeat rightfully dictated.

Because he was rigid. Unmoving, unsettling – unwelcoming.

The realization crept on you: you miscalculated. You quickly found yourself wanting to move away, doubts and misconceptions landing on your conscience like the worst of sham. It was as if you were rejected – no, no, you were being rejected, by someone who you truly cared for, and somehow, you understood in that regretful moment, by someone you wanted to care about you as well.

Affection, for him? That couldn't work, that would never work. You wanted to strip him off of it, for he could not handle it. That was when you felt him shift, move his arms upwards to – to actually hug you back.

Gentle words reached your ear, healing your hurting soul. "You... um, you smell nice," he complimented quietly. Just like that, a grin overtook your face. One statement, and he erased all of your aches.

You mumbled a thank you. Fugo would assume that it was simply gratitude for his kind words, but you knew its meaning was a lofty one – through this, you believed you realized your feelings towards him. And what once was a hurrying heartbeat that raced with fear, became a gleeful sensation that spread all over your chest.

Fleeting was the embrace, far too long and yet – surely not enough. Once the two of you stepped away from each other, no words were discovered to describe the moment. Fugo held a bashful smile, and you knew he wouldn't speak up first. You noticed a detail more, something that instantly made you chuckle.

"You dropped the poor flower," you told him with a pout.

"I... I had greater priorities other than holding it," he justified himself.

Priorities, he mentioned? Oh, you remembered something very important.

"Speaking of greater priorities, I am driving us back," you informed, placing your hands on your hips. Fugo had no choice but to agree.

Purple Haze was a fitting stand indeed. Misunderstood, just like his user, and undoubtedly a sweetheart.

[whentherewerebicycles]

Hi! I really hope this isn’t overstepping but I don’t know any grown up lesbians irl (I mean I’m 23 so I guess technically I’m a grown up but for the purposes of this question it doesn’t count). Anyway, you can delete this if you want, but here’s the sitch: I met this girl like 9 months ago at work and first we hated each other and then we became friends and then we started hooking up but just as friends. I’m leaving this job in a few weeks and moving across the country, and I’m having all sorts of complicated feelings about this. Like, I don’t really want to date her, but we haven’t hooked up lately and i think I’m experiencing that as a kind of rejection of me as a friend even tho we’re still friends and do friend stuff together, just minus the kissing. And those rejection-feelings are making me sad. And I guess my question is, since you seem like someone who is really good at processing emotions and sort of regulating your responses—how do I do that? Like how do I become okay with things, especially things that I didn’t think would happen? I’m sorry I know that’s really broad and not really an answerable thing but if you have any advice I would really appreciate it. Thank you

aww it's not overstepping! i am happy to be a Grownup IRL Lesbian in this situation, although yknow take everything with a grain of salt as i am just one person and this is just one perspective. it sounds like there are a couple things at play here... one has to do with communication between the two of you and one has to do with emotional self-regulation. the communication piece i have historically been less adept at handling than the emotional self-regulation piece, but i have a best friend who is very good at it, and i feel like i have learned a lot from watching her navigate these kinds of emotionally sticky situations. so i will tell you what i think she would do -- and i will also tell you that historically, while communicating clearly with people has not always gotten her the outcome that she wanted, she always seems to feel a LOT better for having done it, and it clears the way for her to do the emotional self-regulating part more easily without having to also wade through lots of emotional projecting / attempts at reading the other person's mind.

it sounds like the way this relationship started (because it IS a relationship, even if it's not a capital R relationship) may have laid the groundwork for what's happening now. you say you hated each other at first, so you probably didn't feel comfortable or at ease around each other, and you may have established a pattern of not treating each other with special consideration or thoughtfulness (even if you aren't outright antagonistic towards each other). i'm also assuming (though correct me if i'm wrong?) that the transition into being friends who hook up probably wasn't discussed much at the outset or was treated as a casual thing that didn't need a lot of communication or clear boundaries (since it wasn't a capital R relationship). that kind of thing happens! i think it especially happens in your early 20s (and maybe also in situations where the two women involved don't have a lot of experience dating women or navigating that tricky 'are we friends or...?' kinda thing). but, again, it seems like it might be laying the groundwork for what's happening right now, where one person has withdrawn without explaining why, and the other person is left feeling rejected or confused about what's happening. it also doesn't sound like you think of this as something that could be resolved between the two of you -- you're asking for advice on how to manage your own feelings about the situation, rather than advice on how to address it with her.

from ten years of observing my best friend, i have found that she tends to operate according to the following principles:

ask the person in advance if you can have a conversation with them about something that's bothering you (instead of springing it on them in a social situation when they're not expecting it). it doesn't have to be a big serious We Need to Talk thing. you can make it clear that you're coming into it from a casual, friendly, 'can we try to work this out together' place, not from an attacking place (so as to avoid making the other person defensive)

have the conversation in person instead of over text (it's awkward but trust me TRUST ME it's better)

don't assume that you know what the other person is thinking or why they're acting the way they are. use "I" statements and try to frame things in ways that defuse tension and don't put the other person on the defensive. in your situation, you could say something like, "hey, so, I've noticed that we aren't really hooking up anymore. i respect your choices, and i'm completely okay with that if it's what you want to do. but i've been feeling kind of mixed up and sad about it, i was wondering if we could talk about what the next few weeks of our friendship are going to be like." you can also ask open-ended, nonjudgmental questions: "would you feel more comfortable not hooking up anymore, since i'm about to move?" "would you still like to hang out even if we're not going to be hooking up?" and you can voice your own preferences too - "i'd really like to keep hanging out, but it would help me feel better/more secure to know what you're thinking re: hooking up again," or even "i think it's getting harder for me to separate my feelings about the friendship from the hooking up - i think it might be better for us to stop hanging out."

think about what you want the result of the conversation to be -- not necessarily your most desired outcome, but what your priorities are re: the relationship and your personal needs for closure. you can go into a conversation hoping for a certain outcome ("i hope she says it was just a mistake, apologies, and says she wants to keep hooking up until i leave") but you have no control over whether or not you get that outcome, and you may just be setting yourself up for disappointment. what you can do, though, is set priorities for yourself, so that in the conversation, you are making choices or discussing things in a way that aligns with those longer-term goals. an example of that kind of priority might be something like - "I don't really need to keep in touch with this person after I move, but I want to leave on a good note - so I want to prioritize keeping the conversation positive and friendly, without either of us resorting to the animosity we used to feel towards each other when we first met." or you might set a priority like, "I actually do want to maintain this friendship in some form, and to do that I need to feel like we can be comfortable enough with each other talking to each other openly. I don't know how she'll respond or if preserving the relationship will be important to her at all, but I want to prioritize clearly sharing my own needs and feelings, giving her the opportunity to respond in kind, and modeling what i hope our friendship could look like going forward." getting clear in your own mind about your priorities in advance is different from attempting to emotionally project onto the other person or to control/manipulate their actions in some way. it's something that prepares you to communicate well with another person, but at its core it's an emotional self-regulation strategy -- a way for you to check in with yourself and decide in advance what your 'values' for the conversation are going to be. in the middle of the conversation, you may start feeling defensive, angry, hurt, rejected, or some other Big Feeling that causes you to want to react instinctively and impulsively, or makes it more likely that you'll cave on something you don't really want to cave on. doing some of this thinking beforehand gives you something to refer back to when you're feeling emotionally overwhelmed in the middle of a difficult conversation.

remember that you can only regulate the way you act and respond in a situation. so your priorities can be not just about your hopes for the tone of the conversation or the longer-term outcomes, but also about how you want to respond if things don't go well. poor communicators often tend to interpret attempts to openly, directly communicate or to set boundaries as an attack of some kind or an attempt to manipulate the situation. if she's not a very good communicator, it's possible that she might respond negatively to your attempts to have a calm, direct conversation -- whether it's by lashing out, dismissing or invalidating your feelings, changing the subject, stonewalling you, or trying to turn the situation around on you to make it somehow your fault. remember that if someone is violating your boundaries or making you feel shitty about yourself, you can always leave the conversation. it's not you failing as a communicator -- it's that the other person just isn't able to communicate with you in a healthy, productive way. i feel like when i was first dating women (and navigating breakups or complicated conversations like this one), i used to get sucked into these long, drawn-out processing conversations, which would sometimes last for hours and could be really painful. and i always used to think that to communicate well, or to be a respectful partner, i owed it to the other person to sit there and listen to everything they wanted to say to me, even if it was really cruel or was upsetting me. or if i was breaking up with someone, i owed it to them to answer every single angry or hurt question they asked me, because i was "hurting" them by breaking up with them, and so they were entitled to hurting me back or to dragging me through hours of processing. but that is NOT the case. not to traffic in stereotypes too much, but i think that women are socialized to feel like extensive emotional processing is always required / necessary, that we owe other people our undivided emotional energy and time, and that setting reasonable boundaries or calmly stating our needs is somehow "hurting" or inconveniencing other people in some way. this is simply not true. you have an ethical obligation to respect other people's autonomy and human dignity, and you have the right to expect that they communicate with and treat you with that same basic respect. watching my bff communicate has helped me realize that setting healthy boundaries (and then clearly demonstrating that you will honor those boundaries, by removing yourself from the situation if they are violated) is a way of showing respect to yourself and can also be important for the other person to see. like, way too often poor communicators are rewarded for poor or immature communication by getting what they want from the other person -- whether it's wanting the other person to fight back, or seeing the other person be visibly hurt/filled with self-doubt, or successfully manipulating the other person into doing what they want. every time you let people violate your boundaries, you positively reinforce the idea that emotionally manipulative or disrespectful behavior gets them what they want. by choosing to leave, or knowing where your own emotional boundaries are and having a plan for what you'll do if they're violated, you can protect yourself while also avoiding inadvertently providing that positive reinforcement. btw i don't necessarily anticipate that all of this stuff will be relevant in your situation! but i think it's good to keep in mind, especially if there's a history of antagonism there in the early stages of your friendship. also it's just good Lesbian Dating 101 knowledge to have in general, i think! again, not to generalize too much, but i think that women dating other women can be especially prone to really complicated, painful, emotionally manipulative dynamics, in part because our society teaches women that it is dangerous, unattractive, pushy, selfish, etc to clearly express our feelings/needs and enforce healthy boundaries. not to mention that lesbians and bisexual

women are also more likely to have issues with internalized homophobia, shame, etc, which may cause us to develop lots of maladaptive coping mechanisms, which in turn can further distort our ability to be honest with ourselves about our feelings/needs and to clearly communicate with others. so yknow! as you continue to date and sleep with women i think it's good to be working on your shit while also being attuned to signs that someone else is working through (or avoiding working through) their own shit.

also remember that, while it's good to be prepared for worst-case or most stressful outcomes, it's also very possible that having an open, nondefensive, nonjudgmental conversation with her will work! it's very possible that it will go well, that you will work things out in a way that makes you both feel better about each other and about the situation, and that she will take your good communicator cues and respond to you with the same openness and respect you are extending to her. so i wouldn't go into it expecting things to go badly!

anyway to sum all of that up: i do think that my advice would first be to try having a conversation with your friend/casual partner -- and i would especially recommend approaching this conversation not as a Huge Emotional Thing but as a good, low-stakes situation where you can practice your open communication skills! the fact that you are moving in a few weeks imposes natural parameters around this situation, so you don't have to worry about, like, seeing her at work for years to come, or moving in the same social circles as her. i think that can kinda free you up emotionally to take a communication 'risk' or to try something that's a little bit outside of your comfort zone. and whether that conversation goes well or not so well, the experience of reflecting on your priorities for the conversation, making choices in the conversation that align with those priorities, and reflecting back on how it went afterwards can be a really good, really important learning experience. if you can start practicing these things at 23, you will be SO far ahead of where i was at that age, lol, and you really will benefit from having these strategies in your relationship/friendship toolkit.

to get to the question of emotional processing and self-reflection, though, here's how i think i would handle this situation.

first and most importantly: make space for yourself to feel the bad feelings. don't try to downplay or compartmentalize or dismiss what you're experiencing. if you feel sad, rejected, and confused, make space for yourself to really feel those feelings and to acknowledge to yourself that they are real, and they hurt. i often do this in writing (private writing rather than tumblr writing) but i also do it out loud, and i find that saying it aloud can really help me feel that sense of relief/release. a couple months ago a thing happened that really bothered me & made me feel very ashamed and small and embarrassed. and i just spent that morning in my apartment writing through the feelings, and then saying aloud to myself: "I feel really bad right now. I feel really embarrassed, and I feel shame - ie I'm not just embarrassed about something I did; I feel embarrassed right now by who I am as a person. It feels really bad. It makes me feel really small. It stirs up a lot of painful past memories where I've felt like this before, and it's really hard for me right now to not link this situation to those past situations, and to tell myself a story about how I have always been the kind of person other people perceive as too much."

you will absolutely cry a lot, if you are anything like me! but it is a good, cathartic kind of crying. It doesn't exorcise or expel those feelings, but putting them out there in the open allows you to look at them clearly, and to put them outside of yourself instead of doing the shame thing where you repress them and internalize them. internalized shame, for me, always feels like it is literally internalized in my body. repressing or avoiding voicing feelings of shame doesn't make it go away; it just gets internalized as physical tension, like literally stored in my muscles (tight jaw, hunched shoulders, constricted chest, etc). voicing the feeling aloud and letting yourself cry through it (or however you let yourself process big painful feelings) releases that tension, and means that i don't literally "carry it" in my frame like i used to.

when i've let myself feel the big feelings, i start doing something that i think of as bathing myself in acceptance and compassion. this is kind of a metaphor, but i also try to use it as a visualization, kinda? i think of shame and feelings of rejection are emotional experiences that flood my body/mind/senses. so i try to visualize acceptance and self-compassion in a similar but slightly different way. flooding is so violent and is something you have no control over. bathing can similarly 'drench' you in a whole-body feeling, but for me it has connotations of consciously chosen tenderness and care. instead of opening the floodgates of negative feelings, you are choosing to gently care for yourself, to bathe yourself in acceptance and compassion. if i am really really upset about something, and am really having a hard time with shame-flooding, i will sometimes sit in a quiet place somewhere, close my eyes, and actually say those words aloud to myself -- I am bathing myself in accepting and compassion. I am bathing myself in acceptance and compassion -- as I try to visualize those feelings of compassion, permission to feel what i feel, and nonjudgmental acceptance just gently washing over me, again and again. i usually cry some more! i am a big advocate for crying all the time as part of healthy emotional processing! but it really does seem to work, to soothe my flooded brain/body back to a state of calm equilibrium.

at this point, i usually am feeling calm enough that i can look at the situation again and think about it in a less visceral emotional-response way. i've cleared time/space for myself to feel the bad feelings, and then i've consciously chosen to honor those feelings and to make it clear to myself that i'm not going to judge myself harshly or critically, either for feeling what i feel or for whatever i did/failed to do in the original situation that prompted the bad feelings. doing that emotional processing work seems to allow me to reengage the prefrontal cortex and look more carefully at the situation. i tend to do a lot more writing (and some talking-aloud) at this stage, and i try to ask myself lots of open-ended, exploratory questions. when i was very upset and ashamed of the thing that happened a couple months ago, here are some of the questions I asked myself and spent time writing through:

why do I think that situation triggered such a strong emotional response in me?

what was i imagining the other person was thinking about the situation or about me? what are some reasons that upset or distressed me?

i noticed that i started immediately linking this situation to past situations where i've felt the same way. is it possible that the intensity of my response might have less to do with this specific situation, and more to do with other situations it reminded me of?

when i was awash in those shame feelings & linking the situation to past situations, what kind of narrative was i constructing about myself? what story was i telling myself about the kind of person I "am" or have always been?

looking at the same set of facts, can i construct an alternative story about who i am/have been? my initial narrative was really focused on my negative traits and negative past experiences. what would it look like to tell myself a story that centered the ways in which i've grown and changed, or a story that incorporated both traits i like in myself and traits i am less proud of? what might those alternative stories offer that my original story left out?

what could i learn from this experience? without resorting to self-criticism or self-judgment, are there things i might want to do differently when i find myself in this situation again? what choices could i make that might better align with my values or my understanding of the kind of person i want to be in the world? without shifting blame onto the other person, is there anything i can learn from the way they responded -- about how i want to treat others (or avoid treating them) when we're in some kind of conflict with each other?

i really cannot stress how crucial it is for me to actually carve out the time/space to do this kind of deep, sustained emotional processing. in my own emotional history, the things that i have struggled most to get over/move past/grow beyond are the things that i initially brushed off, or told myself were too trivial to feel bad about, or actively repressed because at the time they felt too raw and painful for me to look at or handle directly.

i was just thinking earlier this week about that whole embarrassing / painful experience, and sort of marveling at how easy it is for me now to think about it without feeling it like a wound, or without my mind instinctively trying to deflect or evade thinking about it. looking back at it, i can still see exactly why it caused me pain, and i can still remember/access what that hurt felt like. but i created space for myself to deeply process it -- that is, space to actually acknowledge the feelings; to extend acceptance and compassion to myself for what was past/over; to openly explore what the situation made me feel and why; and to reflect on what i could learn from the experience or take with me moving forward (ie, consciously choosing what i wanted to carry with me from the situation, instead of involuntarily carrying the shame, tension, etc in my body). and that processing allowed me to integrate that painful experience into my sense of who i am and how i relate to other people, in a healthy way that doesn't deny the pain but also doesn't let it become all-consuming, or assume outsize importance in the stories I tell myself about myself.

I'm sorry this got so long! i just really do enjoy and value getting to think aloud about this kind of thing, so thank you for the chance to do so. I don't know how much of this advice will be directly relevant to your situation! I think everybody processes things differently, and while we can learn from closely attending to other people's methods, we all have to figure out how to create and consistently practice healthy coping mechanisms that fit our individual temperament & emotional histories. but i hope that this at least gives you some starting points for thinking about how you might work through your own complicated emotional situation, in a way that feels healthy for you. i wish you the very best of luck!!

[mcheang]

Happy birthday Lila

I’ve noticed that when Adrien and Marinette celebrated their birthdays, it was never during school.

Chloe would never celebrate her birthday with the commoners. She just invites Adrien and Sabrina for a special spa vacation. (As a model, Adrien needs to have a flawless face and even a manicure)

But what happens when Lila’s birthday comes around?

Marinette for sure wouldn’t attend. The whole class knows she doesn’t like the girl.

As a result, it is peaceably agreed that Marinette can skip the surprise party planning the rest of the class is partaking in.

Alya suggests they inform Mrs Rossi as well.

Rose was the one who proposed they hold the party on Juleka’s family boat after Lila talked about how fun Prince Ali’s yacht party was.

Adrien asked where Marinette was, and was informed she would be skipping the party so as to avoid any unnecessary discomfort.

Feeling bad for Marinette and not wanting to spend time with Lila any more than necessary, Adrien volunteers to spend time with Marinette so she won’t be lonely. The girls gleefully support this. Nino shrugs it off. Lila wouldn’t be too crushed, she told him herself she doesn’t like Adrien that way.

On Lila’s birthday, the class wishes her a happy birthday. Lila had earlier informed them that her Mother has planned a big surprise for her, apparently she is going to La Jules Verne.

The class had internally hid their winces. Sheesh Mrs Rossi, you didn’t have to raise Lila’s expectations. Their planned party food would be good, but not that good.

Lila was indeed told she would be spending the day with her mum, but assumes it will be just a normal fancy dinner.

Adrien wishes her a happy birthday. He had helped to plan her birthday but he hid the fact that he would be spending his own day with Marinette, deciding not to trust Lila with any information like he had done in telling her about Kagami.

Mrs Rossi blindfolds her Daughter and leads her to the boat.

Lila feigns glee but is internally panicking. Why oh why did they plan her a surprise party. She hates surprises, they leave her so unprepared.

Lila asks if her Mother will be staying and Mrs Rossi confirms that she cleared out her whole evening for her baby girl.

Rose excitedly adds, “And she can tell us all about your trip to Achu.”

Before Mrs Rossi could voice her confusion, Lila pounced on the nearest distraction she could find: a very cute guitarist with blue hair. “Oh, you must be Juleka’s Brother! Your Sister has told me how talented you are at reading music.”

Luka gave a small polite smile. He did not like this girl. Her melody was a discordant mess! But a party was a party.

Her own Mother was scanning the crowd. “And where is young Adrien? I would love to meet my daughter’s Boyfriend.”

Nino coughed out soda.

The girls gaped at either Rossi.

Luka knew he wouldn’t like the following conversation.

Alya was the one who finally spoke up, eyeing Lila warily. “Adrien is seeing the latest Jumanji movie with Marinette.... I didn’t know you 2 were dating.”

And I clearly don’t believe it, was what she didn’t need to add, but was heavily implied.

Lila laughed nervously. “I may have exaggerated my glamourous school life to my Mother. I don’t always have a good time at every school I’m enrolled in.”

Mrs Rossi nods, and rubs Lila’s cheek. “Oh, Ma Bella, you didn’t have to lie to me. I always want to know how you are. You don’t have to pretend to be strong.”

Rose fidgets nervously then hurried to change the subject because the air was getting awkward. “I know, how about Mrs Rossi tells us about your trip to Achu.”

Lila quickly demurred. “No, I want to hear your band play. I haven’t had the chance to see you perform live!”

Rose squealed and hurried the wary band to the stage. Nobody missed Mrs Rossi’s confusion.

As Lila hurried her Mother to the stage, she cast a silent pleading look to her to play along, out of sight of the others.

Guessing that Lila tried to make herself look good, Mrs Rossi sighed and nodded.

Kitty Section did play well. But Lila couldn’t really enjoy the party. She could sense her class’ unease, her Mother’s disappointment, and she was irked that Adrien chose to skip her party to go on a date with Marinette! But she can stew on that later. Right now she had her reputation to save.

The main problem was her mother’s lack of information of Achu. She may be a diplomat but even she can’t remember all worldwide country customs and dignitaries!

As the band played, only innocent Rose believed in Lila. Alya was really tempted to check the internet but refrained out of politeness to the band.

Nino personally felt betrayed. Lila lied to him, didn’t she?

When the band finished, and it was time to light the cake, Lila made a wish that she would survive this party. (She really should have been more specific. Of course no one would murder her at her own party).

While they ate the cake, Rose persisted that Mrs Rossi tell them about their time planning fundraisers with Prince Ali.

Lila silently blessed Rose for giving enough information.

Mrs Rossi gave a delicate cough. “Well, planning royal fundraisers is actually harder than your average fundraiser. The bigger an event, the more there is to plan. But I must say that Prince Ali is the most caring and responsible man I have ever met.”

And here Mrs Rossi made her first unwitting mistake. She assumed that the fundraising Prince was grown up, not a boy who should be in school.

Rose looked confused by her phrasing before assuming Mrs Rossi saw Ali as a boy older than his years, and thus a man.

The class was more skeptical.

“Oh, but I’m sure Lila was amazing at it. To think that she could juggle fundraising, sightseeing, catching up with our lessons and homework!”

At the second sentence, it was Mrs Rossi’s turn to choke. She could excuse Lila’s lie about working with her, but that bit about school work began to raise suspicions in her mind.

If Lila lied about her school life, could she have lied about the akuma attacks too?

But why? Was she so nervous at school? That can’t be it. Her class seemed so friendly when they called her to plan the party.

Mrs Rossi has not been blind to their suspicion, and now gave her own Daughter a stink eye.

Lila tried for the innocent look. At this point, Lila only prayed she could still salvage her truancy.

Thankfully, it was still her birthday. They would be polite for her sake. Once the party was over however, all bets were off.

It was the most awkward party Lila had ever been to. None of her classmates except Rose would talk to her. Even her own Mother couldn’t face her.

Goodbyes were curt and tense.

Lila couldn’t hope to attract an akuma with only her dread, let alone with her Mother keeping a close eye on her now.

Alya began to work on Lila’s claims, starting with why Marinette believed Lila was lying. Marinette was currently with Adrien and he gave the OK. Marinette admits she saw Lila throw a book aside and Ladybug confronting her. (She phrases it as if it was by chance. Adrien thanks her for saving him from homeschooling and is furious with Lila)

Juleka asks Rose to question Ali about Lila. Rose naively agreed, thinking Juleka meant to remind Ali it was Lila’s birthday. Oh poor Rose. What a shock she received.

Kim was asked by Alya to look up Lila’s ailments.

The next day at school, the class were seething with rage or just plain hurt. Even Marinette wasn’t smiling because of the negative atmosphere. On the bright side, her date with Adrien had been perfect!

Adrien had finished explaining his reasoning for not calling out on Lila to the class - that she attracted an akuma when he calmly chided her - until Marinette pointed out the akuma was originally meant for her when she felt left out by her class for seating arrangement and Lila’s threat (which is a whole lot more believable than Lila getting Akuma angry from a simple request to be honest)

Adrien is excused and is now out for Lila’s blood.

It is a twist. For once, Marinette was early. Alya dragged her out of bed for an emergency class meeting about Lila. The latter arrived as late as she could to delay the confrontation.

After convincing her Mother that she just felt pressured to make a good impression on her class, that she wanted to assure her Mother she had made friends, and that the Achu lie had taken place years ago, Mrs Rossi agreed to forgive Lila but forced her to attend school and to apologize to her class for lying to them. Yeah right!

Lila spent all night preparing an excuse. She could excuse her mother’s expressions and choking as unprepared for such interest in her job. But the main root of their suspicion came from her lie about Adrien. She knew the girls were fiercely defensive and supportive of Adrienette (gag her already). She could say that her Mother had been worrying about her finding a stable boyfriend, and Lila had mentioned Adrien before knowing about Marinette’s crush on him.

Lila crossed her fingers to find confusion and mild suspicion. She found anger and betrayal instead. Alya and Adrien looked especially hateful at her.

Oh crap.

Lila decided to take the lead before the class could. “I know why you’re all upset, but I can explain!”

She gave her excuses.

The class did not look appeased.

Rose finally burst into tears. “You’re lying. You’re lying! I spoke to Ali last night. He never heard of you before!”

Lila had to stop herself from retreating. “He’s a busy prince. He can’t remember every one of his associates.”

“You aren’t even friends with Ladybug. Adrien told us about it!” Ok, so now Alya was lying. But she didn’t want Lila to target Marinette anymore.

Nino blurted out, “You stole my man Adrien’s book and threw it in the trash!” Ok, how did he even know that? Did Ladybug catch her in the act before confronting her. Ugh, Alya must have gotten an interview beforehand.

Adrien’s cheeks were flushed and he glowered at her. “And you threatened Marinette.”

Lila glared at said girl. Marinette only looked at Lila in pity. How dare she? Then she quickly changed to a scared face and began tearing up. “Me? She’s the one who threw a napkin at me!”

“Yes,” Alix said sarcastically, “a soft napkin that can apparently blind a boy with glasses.”

Max pushed those glasses up. “We will avoid mentioning that moment please.” It will forever be a source of embarrassment to him. How could he have been so gullible?

Kim crossed his arms. “Speaking of that napkin incident, how do we know your ear and wrist were ever injured?”

Lila gasped. “Of course I was. Why would I lie about that?”

Mylene wasn’t impressed with Lila’s show. “Gee, maybe it was so we would buy and carry your lunch?”

“Or so you could sit next to Adrien?” Nathaniel muttered.

“You can’t prove I was faking,” Lila pointed out. “My wrist sprain has healed and my tinnitus was cured long ago.”

Chloe scoffed. “Like it’s that hard to check on your medical records and doctors’ notes.” Well... not hard for her.

Alya straightened. “And we actually have witnesses this time.”

Adrien nodded. “I was actually there when Ladybug came over, remember Lila?”

Of course she remembered. That was the most humiliating moment of her life.

“And if I recall correctly, your wrist was fine when you admitted you lied to me.” Marinette was so relieved the truth was out.

Sensing her “I was honest” route wasn’t working out, Lila switched tactics.

“Alright,” she wailed. “I admit I’m a big liar.”

The class waited, not sure whether to believe her this time.

“I only wanted to make friends. I had heard so much about your accomplishments and was afraid you all would look down on me.”

Adrien wasn’t falling for it. “If you wanted to make friends so badly, why threaten Marinette.”

“I was scared she would take you all away from me. I didn’t mean it!”

Adrien’s face didn’t soften. He remembered Lila’s grudge against Ladybug. “Stealing my book?”

“It was a mistake! Anyone can make mistakes right?”

Marinette admitted this was true. She stole phones, but at least she returned them! She felt herself softening just a tiny bit.

Ivan growled; “serving you lunch?!”

“I forgot my lunch money.”

Juleka mused, “that still doesn’t explain why you were absent.”

“Can you blame me? I had been akumatized. I was embarrassed.”

Sabrina levelled a look at the liar. “It’s still truancy, Lila.”

“Yes, it is,” came a new voice. The class turned to see their frowning teacher finally cross the threshold.

Late as Lila had been, Caline had come to the class soon after but had decided to stay in the shadows to eavesdrop. No one knew how much she had heard.

“Young lady,” she said sternly to Lila, “go to the Principal’s office. I think it’s time we called your Mother to discuss your absence at school, bullying and how long you’ve had your ailments.”

As Lila meekly followed her teacher, Ms Bustier added to Marinette, “Oh, Marinette, you’re in charge. The rest of you can revise pages 65 to 79. I have a feeling I may take a while.

I’ll let you imagine what the class did when the pair left.

When Ms Bustier returned, Lila was absent. Ms Bustier refused to divulge what had happened.

Like that was going to stop Chloe. She asked the principal what had happened to Lila, and told Sabrina and Adrien, who told Alya who told everybody else.

Mrs Rossi came down from work and was astonished and hurt that her baby girl was so wicked and deceitful.

Lila was currently suspended, would not return to the class since she wouldn’t be welcome, and would repeat the grade. She should have been expelled but apparently the principal bought her sob story about how her threat to Marinette wasn’t real and that she just wanted to make friends. Mrs Rossi was skeptical but didn’t want her Daughter expelled. However she had her own punishment, Lila was grounded. She would have no allowance.

It was official. Lila had the worst birthday ever.

On the bright side, she got presents on the boat, even Adrien had given her one.

Lila stifled a yell when she saw Adrien post an Instagram photo of himself and Marinette at Disneyland. He wanted to thank her for returning his book and to comfort her after Lila’s long ago threat.

What surprises is me is that I could actually see the class forgiving Lila with her latest excuses. Except Adrien. He can’t forget her role in Oniichan. But then Caline came along and had to be the responsible adult. She can excuse bullying all she likes, but she can’t excuse truancy, forged documents and an angry model with a large fan base furious about Marinette’s treatment.

[onf-headcanons]

INSUFFERABLE PAIN

(Jaeyoung x reader - one shot )

Quick one shot for Jaeyoung x reader with scars

• I did not even a proper draft planned for this at all so deepest apologies beforehand if this one shot fic and the nuance are quite messy. So this idea derived from the Minkyun ones I was like hmm since Minkyun's story was relationship already established, how about something prior relationship being legit  though?

• And then my instinct told me Jaeyoung is the best choice for this scenario  because of his personality . So without further ado lets go

• The character setting here would be you and Jaeyoung were once classmate but you got into an accident and while you are bedridden/in progress of rehab and healing , Jaeyoung got transferred. Later only met Jaeyoung back. (University or in company if you like)

• So I will leave it up to reader where the scars should be but it needs to be visible and covers quite large area. Either stitches or faded scars or even burnt scars will do. It is flexible exclusively for you.

• You do have a few past relationships or even being teased during your school days (once you recovered) but they all did not end well because of your scars. So it kind off became a complex of yours.

• Maybe you tend to wear long sleeves or longer jeans to cover it up even when it's summer. (Due to budget issue you family could not really afford a skin graft or even due to the affected areas are to large as the reason)

• Now you and Jaeyoung have been in really good terms with each other. (On what background I will leave it to your imagination as well. I personally might incorporate this into the office au)

• He did know a bit of the accident but seeing you doing well, he thought you recovered perfectly and did not gave any thoughts about scars or side effects. It just did not come to him because he was never disclosed with the details.

• It will a lie if you say you do not have a crush and good impression of him. By working together about 2 or 3 projects, you two found out that both of you also have a good chemistry unexpectedly.

• Good looks ,check . Caring personality, check . Someone who understands and respects your pov, check.

• But now you are always in the defensive alert mode to not go one step further to all of your relationships or potential suitors

• The gang of yours all are trying to hook you and Jaeyoung up and even plays game like truth or dare just to give you two excuse to confess with each other but Jaeyoung would always stand by your side so that no one makes you uncomfortable. That is one of the good impression  and plus point part he has made

• Until the extent some of your mutual friends begin to ask you and Jaeyoung directly if you truly have feelings with each other privately.

• So there is once that you and Jaeyoung were out on a company gathering or friend gathering and there is no more bus/train back home. So Jaeyoung offered to drive you back

• It will be the first time after knowing each other for a while, that you two being alone, without any potential disturbance

• In the car its was tense because Jaeyoung is silent. Very unusually silent. Maybe Jaeyoung is the type to prefer full concentration, no distraction while driving, you thought. You know you should break the ice but again your defensive personality kicks in because you don't want to send false intentions

• Reached your apartment and Jaeyoung pull over across the road. But before you reach out to the door handle, Jaeyoung calls out your name, which made you paused.

• Your intuition tingles because you have experienced similar scenario before. Jaeyoung adjusts his posture to face you properly. He even had his seat belt unfastened, looks like he is expecting a long covnersation.

• You bite your underlips unconsciously while resting your back to the car seat but your eyes are set to your knees.

• "I just want you to know,  that everytime when we played truth or dare, I never lied about having someone in mind." Jaeyoung starts.

• "I see. " you replies while trying to stay calm

• "Y/N, I am bringing this up because I felt we have mutual feelings. If I was wrong, do correct me." Jaeyoung continues because your reply was somewhat cold/neutral.

• Finally it has come to this, you thought. And you let out a sigh. "No, you are not wrong at all."

• "Wonderful." His tone becomes brighter. You had a quick glance of him out of nervousness,he has a smile on his face.

• "But," you continue on. " I am afraid that it is best for us to remain as friends."

• The aura changes into a solemn one.

• " Can I know the reason?" Jaeyoung carefully initiates after a slight moment of silence.

• You look at him and try to sound carefree, "Well let's just say I am not good at disappointment because I tend to expect too much."

• "Anyone will have expectations towards their partner, Y/N." Jaeyoung retorts. "It will happen in the course of relationship,it just the matter of communicating between 2 people"

• Oh ya, he is not the kind to back off with vague responds. He is the type to communicate fully without sugar-coated information.  He values a frank and straightforward approach. Its his good trait but sometimes it falls to his bad trait when he is persistent.

• Knowing his personality well enough , you decided to give it all. With a little selfish hope that he will backs off and terminates his feelings towards you.

• "How much do you know about the accident I been through?" You ask him. (Not in a interrogating tone)

• Jaeyoung scratches the side of his forehead and shrugs, trying to recall, " Not much of the details, I only know you are bedridden and needed alot of time to recover."

• You then roll up your sleeves / roll up your shirt/ roll up the hem your jeans, and show him a fraction of your scars. Jaeyoung was slightly taken aback by your sudden movements but then immediately understood once he sees your scars.

• "So you did not know about these then." You show him. " What you see now, it is just a small portion of all of it."

• By observing,  you can tell Jaeyoung is trying to organise his words, but the only thing that comes out from his mouth, none other than a soft murmur of "I am sorry. "

• "Don't be, I was the one who never mentioned it." You let out a short chuckle while arranging your clothes. "Its ok, you can give it a thought."

• But Jaeyoung response catches you off guard. "A thought on what?" He asks.

• You look at him and reply bluntly, " If you still want to take a step further with me after knowing about my ugly scars. Mind you, they covers quite large area of my body."

• "Wait, what? That?" Jaeyoung's voice rises as he heard you.

• "Of course, what else could it be?" You are now puzzled

• "I don't care about the scars, Y/N. I think you misunderstood me. " he tries to explain

• "I did?" The only reply you can make out of the confusion. Normally the other party would be gross out or freak out by your scars but Jaeyoung does not seem to mind?

• "I think its my suddenly apology made you feel like I am rejecting you mentally. " Jaeyoung analyses. "Its not actually, I was feeling sorry that you had to gone to the suffering from the scars."

• "Oh."

• "You don't sound convinced." Jaeyoung is accurate about that.

• "Well, I was expecting different kind of reactions and response from you." Your hand reaches to touch one of the place of your scars. "People normally freaks out when they sees it."

• "So you were trying to scare me away." Jaeyoung finally grasps the situation. "That's not really nice but I don't blame you."

• "My bad, my previous relationships did not work out because of them and I had enough of getting hurt." You avert your eyes from his. Your hand caressing the scar part through the fabric of your clothes. "Those heartbreaks hurts far worse than the physical wounds I had. They are not just heartbreaks, they are rejections. "

• Jaeyoung reaches out his hand and gently pats your head. "You had it rough." You did not move away or brush his hand off. You covers your face while lowkey wailing

• "Are you even normal Jaeyoung? I was expecting you to freak out. But why are you so calm? They are, quote my ex, unpleasantly horrendous." You turn your head to look at him.

• "Then how would your prefer me to react? Pass out? Or screech like a maiden?" His answer made you laugh. "And no they are not horrendous, that's just your ex having a faint heart."

• "Thank you for not being grossed out." You appreciated him after letting a satisfied laugh.

• "To be frank, I was startled at first but it all make sense to me now. Bedridden, long time to recover, and never once I see you wear something short during the summer. " says the young man beside you.

• "Now you know why." You mutters.

• "But I guess when you love someone, you love everything of theirs. " Jaeyoung continues .

• You could not believe your ears of what had come out from his mouth. Blushing hard, you repeat yourself. "Jaeyoung , are you even normal?"

• The young man smiles at you and responds, "I fell in love with you like how normal people fell in love , so rest assured, I am completely normal."

• You lower your head to hide your flushed cheeks, it is still too good to be true.

• Jaeyoung reads your body language  and decides to pry further. "So I assume that you accepted my feelings and my confession?"

• "Well... you are the only one who did not freak out... for now..." You reply him with a low voice.

• Jaeyoung ruffles you hair and thank you for accepting his feelings. "Don't worry Y/N,  I won't let you go through that insufferable pain again, I promise. "

• "You better." You smiles at him, finally.

A/N : Happy ending🤭 again so sorry if the story looks messy and rushed.

Also i not sure if I will do a first time theme smut fic based on this established relationship as well. It will interesting for sure.

[quicksilversquared]

Cookies and Croissants: Chapter 3/3

As a superhero, saving the world is standard fare. It’s practically expected. But saving one’s civilian friend from her best friend’s off-target assumptions?

Somehow, that’s almost harder.

links in the reblog

If it hadn't been for Marinette and Nino, Adrien probably would have assumed that- somehow, impossibly- Alya hadn't heard about Ladybug and Chat Noir's visit to the mansion. For once, she had clearly put a lid on her curiosity and restrained herself from interrogating Adrien about what the superheroes had said. Alya hadn't stopped theorizing, of course, but she wasn't doing it in front of Adrien, or even in places where Adrien might 'accidentally' overhear.

"She's pretty dead on with her assumptions," Marinette told Adrien as they planned their next "meeting", two days after the first one. It had seemed a bit soon to both of them at first, like they were desperate to be seen, but- well, it made sense that Adrien would want frequent updates. A lot could change in two days, at least theoretically. "She guessed that they were probably just keeping you updated and that there wasn't much to report yet."

Plagg cackled. "Technically, she wasn't completely accurate," he quipped. "As I recall, you tried and failed to talk about the weather, too."

"Okay, yes, but- hey, it's what we intended to have people think!" Marinette protested. "It's what we would have said if we were actually doing the meeting. And I did give an update and there wasn't much to report yet."

"Yeah, that's a bit- well, maybe I had my hopes too high that the Order would be able to help Mom really fast," Adrien sighed, leaning into Marinette's side. She leaned back, solid and comforting, and he relished in the contact. They still had to be careful with how they acted around each other most of the time- whenever people might pop in on them- so the moments when they could be close were fewer than Adrien really would have liked. "I mean, I know they're doing their best, and I really appreciate that they're working so hard to be careful so that Mom doesn't get worse, but today's update was still 'stabilizing and starting research'."

"They did tell us that it could take a while," Marinette pointed out quietly, pulling him closer to her side. "There's a lot of possibilities of what could have gone wrong, and how the magic could have affected her. Acting on the wrong assumption could make it harder to heal her properly once they figure out what the real problem is." Her chin rested against the side of his head, and Adrien couldn't help but smile as she nuzzled him. "D'you want to come over tonight as Chat? My parents commented yesterday that they hadn't seen you around recently."

Adrien perked up. Did he want to come over? Did he ever. "I'd love that."

"I figured you might." Marinette gave his hair an affectionate ruffle, and Adrien gave into the urge to lean into her hand and purr right away. "I'll get out the blankets when I get home."

"Oooh."

"But that's later, and we still have to do today's 'visit'." Marinette peeled herself away from Adrien (who absolutely did not whine at the loss of contact) and reached into her bag, pulling out a small box that Adrien recognized as a Miraculous box. "It's pretty much the same time as the last visit, and regularity is probably a good thing."

"Right, we won't have to do as much to get people to come and look." Adrien glanced over at Marinette. "You know, if you wanted, we have a study room that overlooks the courtyard. You could just transform and stay in there and be able to get a pretty good view of what's going on."

Marinette considered that, then shook her head. "Not this time. I need to be able to be pretty sure that there won't be any surprise pigeons that could disrupt the illusions on their way over. Once I don't have to really catch people's attention, then that would be nice. I'd just have to remember to include a bit of illusion in front of the window, so that no one sees me looking out."

Adrien hadn't thought of that. It was really smart, though. One glimpse of anything Fox-related, and Alya would be on them in a second. With a sigh- he didn't really want to get up- Adrien pushed himself to his feet. "Okay. I'll go out to the steps. Meet you back here afterward?"

"Of course."

Their second 'meeting' went much like their first. Adrien frowned at the gawkers by the gate more openly this time- seriously, didn't any of these people have common decency? Or something better they could be doing?- but only a very few people skittered away.

"We could try to get the Gorilla to shoo them away," Marinette suggested afterwards. She was flopped on Adrien's lap, idly playing with one of her hair ribbons. Her one undone pigtail was splayed out over one of his legs. "Mention that it's annoying to have people taking pictures and trying to listen in. Honestly, it would probably just add to the realism, don't you think? After all, why would anyone bother staging something fake if they didn't want anyone else looking?"

"Except he might do too good of a job." Adrien twisted his fingers through Marinette's loose hair, happy to be able to play with it. "And we still need to get you in a picture or two with Ladybug. Maybe we can do that if people pick up on the schedule and we get, like, bigger crowds or something. He'd probably pick up on it on his own at that point."

"Mm. Right."

"D'you want to add yourself to the illusion sometime next week?" Adrien suggested after a minute. "We can ramp up the closeness at school a bit, so it's not a surprise that you would be over here. Then we can get a picture or two with you and Ladybug out."

"Yeah, sure. I don't think it'll take much, honestly." Marinette leaned into his hand, and Adrien didn't miss the opportunity to brush his thumb across her cheek. "Alya knows that we've hung out together without her and Nino before, and not just when they 'subtly' ditched us."

Adrien had to laugh at that. Now that all of their feelings were out in the open, the truth had come out about their friends' not-so-subtle attempts to set them up had come out, too. And now that he had more context for the weird behavior- the weird behavior from all of his friends, not just Marinette- and he wasn't wondering what he was missing or doing wrong, it was all pretty funny.

"Are we taking bets on if the Ladyblogger is going to start up the matchmaking again soon?" Plagg asked, zipping around to join them now that his cheese was finished. "Or do we think that she's still off on her assumption that Pigtails is dating Chat Noir?"

"I have a name, Plagg," Marinette said with a sigh. She started to sit up, only to stop and flop back into Adrien's lap with a huff of amusement when he let out a whine automatically. "And it's hard to tell what Alya's thinking about that at the moment. She's stopped with the hints and pointed questions and whatnot, but it's hard to tell if she's dropped the idea completely or if it's just that there's so much else going on and there's more important things to worry about."

Adrien worried his lower lip. That probably made things more difficult, then. Marinette would be the one who would have the best idea about what Alya was thinking, and if she didn't have any idea of what Alya thought…

"My guess, though, is that she hasn't forgotten," Marinette spoke up again after a minute. "She's not had any truly conflicting evidence yet, so she hasn't had any reason to drop the idea fully."

"Unless she's realized that her jump to conclusions didn't exactly have any evidence, either," Tikki chimed in. "Isn't that a possibility?"

Marinette snorted. "You're talking about the girl who was convinced that Chloe was Ladybug. No."

Adrien turned red and glanced away. He had been thrown off by Alya's suspicion, too, at least briefly. In his defense, thought, he had assumed that she would have good evidence if she was willing to risk Chloe's wrath. "Uh. Right."

"But I guess it doesn't really matter, not right now," Marinette said. She grinned up at Adrien. "We'll see what happens later, after the other meetings and after Ladybug and Chat Noir start dating."

Adrien grinned back. "I can't wait."

  The next several meetings went smoothly, now that they had gotten into a groove. General public curiosity seemed to have largely dropped off- after all, there were no dramatics and they couldn't hear anything anyway- but a couple tabloid reporters could be counted on to always show up, peering through the gates and snapping a few photos of Adrien and the superheroes before they could get chased off by the Gorilla. A few times, paparazzi had even managed to snap pictures of a girl with Adrien, standing at his side and listening in on part of the conversation before excusing herself to head indoors and give him a bit of privacy with the superheroes.

Alya pounced on Marinette after that, dragging her off to the locker rooms to interrogate her about what she had heard. She was a bit disappointed to hear that Marinette hadn't stuck around long enough to hear anything of interest, but had to admit that it was probably smart to do it that way.

And despite the regular- and frequent- meetings, no one suspected the Fox's involvement at all. Ladybug was good at keeping her illusions safe and far away from anything that might disturb them. On top of that, she had decided one day to add on an illusion of pigeons flying right past Ladybug and Chat Noir, making Chat Noir 'sneeze' and almost giving Adrien a heart attack in the process because she had forgotten to warn him that she was going to do that beforehand. He had been convinced that all of their hard work to separate their identities was about to go up in twin puffs of orange, pigeon-scented smoke, and for it to not do that…

Well, it was lucky for both of them that Adrien hadn't slumped to the ground in relief once the illusions landed safely. That would have looked pretty suspicious, though it was possible that they would have been able to chalk it up to the news: Mrs. Agreste's condition had been fully figured out, treatment had started, and she was already making great improvement with her recovery.

And then, a day after they got the news that Mrs. Agreste had woken up, Ladybug and Chat Noir were seen looking very close in public. Paris went mad when Madam Chamack managed to get her hands on a photo of the two superheroes sharing a kiss over what looked like a midnight picnic.

And Alya was clearly left confused, if the multiple texts consisting entirely of question marks that she had sent Marinette was any indication. Marinette had just sent question marks back, playing dumb about why Alya would be anything besides ecstatic that the superheroes were clearly dating now.

Next to her, Adrien had snickered at the exchange. He had come back to the bakery with her after their picnic (not, of course, without a fair bit of teasing about going home with her on the first date) to help put things away, and he had lingered long enough to watch the entire exchange.

"I would have thought that you would be over the moon about Ladynoir actually happening, Alya!" Rose exclaimed the following morning, when her eager 'Alya! Alya, did you hear?' was met by a long face. "You've wanted it to happen for ages now? What happened?"

"Oh, I, uh…." Alya started, clearly taken aback at being questioned by anyone, and Adrien snickered quietly from his spot next to Marinette. He knew as well as she did that Alya couldn't exactly admit to thinking that Marinette was dating Chat Noir without explaining why, and even with Hawkmoth behind bars she wasn't supposed to tell anyone about her secret identity just in case- but clearly she couldn't explain that she was hoping that she was right about Marinette dating Chat Noir so that she could figure out his identity. And now, since they weren't dating, her dream of finding out who he was that way had gone down the drain. "Uh…"

Neither of the two superheroes felt at all guilty about the destruction of that particular dream. Alya shouldn't have been trying to ferret out their identities in the first place, she shouldn't have been jumping to conclusions, and she shouldn't have been bothering Marinette about the "relationship" at all, even if it had been confirmed instead of just speculation.

"They're so cute, I don't know how anyone could be anything but thrilled!" Rose gushed, apparently not willing to wait for Alya to finish muddling through her half-baked explanation for why she wasn't thrilled about the superhero development. "A midnight picnic on the rooftops of Paris, how romantic! Did you see the candles in the photos? A candlelit midnight picnic!"

There were murmurs from their classmates. Mylène nodded in agreement, clasping her hands together just like Rose. "It's so cute! I do wonder about the timing, though- do you think that they wanted to date before, but didn't let themselves because of Hawkmoth? And then now that-" Mylène caught herself, ducking her head sheepishly as she glanced at Adrien and then away again. "Anyway, now it's safe, and everything's being dealt with, so they can relax and date!"

"Or they were already dating and they were just keeping it secret, like in a novel!" Rose beamed at the thought. "I mean, there were pictures and videos of them kissing and flirting before, but they just denied that they were in a relationship and that things were taken out of context. Maybe that was actually just when they slipped up!"

There were murmurs at that, and then the gossip exploded as people chimed in with interactions that they had seen themselves, if they thought it was romantic, the likelihood that the superheroes had actually been trying to hide a relationship…

The general consensus, from what Marinette could make out in the babble, was that the superheroes would have done a better job of hiding their flirting if they had actually been dating in secret. She supposed that that was about as good as she could hope for.

At least her classmates had some faith in her and Chat Noir. Marinette would have been super embarrassed if they decided that the superheroes just didn't have enough common sense to be able to hide their relationship properly.

"How are you doing, dude?" Nino asked, appearing at Adrien's side. "Let me know if you need to, like, step out or anything."

"I'm good," Adrien assured him, smiling. "I've gotten used to- to everything. And it's not like I'm not interested in Ladybug and Chat Noir anymore or anything. I think it's sweet that they're dating."

Nino looked supremely unconvinced. "You, the ultimate Ladybug fanboy, are totally fine with Ladybug dating Chat Noir instead of you?"

"Chat Noir knows Ladybug, though," Adrien pointed out reasonably, though his cheeks had turned pink. "Way better than anyone else in the city. Are you really going to think that I would throw a fit over someone dating my celebrity crush?"

Nino considered that, then shrugged. "Nah, fair point. I always think of celebrity crushes on being on famous people that you've never met, I guess, and you've definitely met Ladybug. But I can see how that's different!" he added hastily. "Or how meeting Ladybug is kind of like doing meet and greets with bands or whatever. You don't really get to know them, just meet them. They're not, like, suddenly obtainable because you've met them once."

Adrien nodded, a little too fast and jerky. "Yup! Exactly."

Nino narrowed his eyes suspiciously at that, but didn't comment on it, simply shrugging and moving on. "Did you know about it before the news broke? I think you're the person that the superheroes have been in closest contact with."

Adrien blinked. "I… don't follow?"

"Were they being obvious flirts, I think he's asking," Marinette cut in before Adrien could give away anything potentially incriminating. "Which they wouldn't be, right? They always seemed pretty down-to-business from what I saw."

"Yeah, they pass on what they know and then they're off," Adrien agreed. "After answering any of my questions, of course. They have lives to get back to, after all, and they probably have to make excuses to go out and talk to me."

Nino considered that. "Okay, yeah. That's true. But speaking of which…" He glanced around to make sure that they had some privacy- all of their classmates seemed to be caught up in the gossip and speculation about Ladybug and Chat Noir, and Marinette could overhear Alix and Kim tossing the word 'bet' around- and then leaned forward, genuine curiosity and concern on his face. "How's that going? Any word on your mom yet? I heard she woke up."

Adrien grinned. "Yeah! So yesterday, the superheroes told me…"

  Mrs. Agreste returned home once she was fully recovered, accompanied by a police escort to keep away gawkers and people who might have some misplaced anger at her because of Mr. Agreste's actions. Adrien met her at the mansion, with Marinette at his side.

They weren't dating as their civilian selves, not yet. The delay between the superheroes' announcement and theirs would hopefully be a good buffer of time so that people wouldn't associate the two fledgling relationships too closely, and so people wouldn't be so suspicious about the admittedly odd timing of them starting to date right after Adrien's father had been arrested and his mom had been found in a coma. It would also allow time for Emilie Agreste to return to Paris and reunite with her son before also having to adjust to the idea of her only child dating. Adrien thought that his mom would be delighted- despite being married to Gabriel Agreste, she was a romantic at heart- but Marinette was a little more cautious.

She didn't want Adrien's mom to dislike her just because she came back to everything changing too fast and Marinette was an easy target to blame for some of that change. Maybe that wasn't likely, if Adrien was to be believed, but it was better to not make waves. Mrs. Agreste could meet Marinette as Adrien's Very Good Friend, notice the romantic vibes between them, and get eased into the idea of Adrien dating someone a little more slowly.

Tikki thought that it was a good approach, too. Adrien had groaned about it for a little bit- after all, with his mom home, it would be far harder for him to slip out as Chat Noir, so he wouldn't get to do rooftop dates with Ladybug as often- but admitted that it was probably smart. If his mom was having a really hard time adjusting, they could always tell Marinette's parents that they were dating in secret and be able to cuddle there until Mrs. Agreste was more ready to accept their relationship.

Hopefully it wouldn't take long. Having to sneak around wasn't much fun, not after months and months of sneaking and excuses and flat-out lies so that they could go fight akumas. Even though it wasn't serious sneaking- they could probably just tell his mom that they were studying together- it was just…. well, a little exhausting after everything else.

The gates swung open, silent and imposing as ever, freshly oiled by the Gorilla just that morning, and the Agreste family car turned in. Two police cars pulled in neatly behind them, but Mrs. Agreste paid them no mind. She burst out of the car as soon as it pulled to a stop, dashing up the steps towards Adrien with a beam on her face.

"Darling!" she called, scooping him up in her arms. "You've grown! My goodness, you're going to pass me soon at this rate. You look so good! What have you been up to? No one has been able to tell me much. And who is this? Are you Adrien's girlfriend?"

Marinette blinked as the human hurricane that was Emilie Agreste turned to her. "Uh…"

She- she hadn't been prepared for Emilie to be completely eager for Adrien to have a girlfriend. Or- or maybe she wasn't, but she was just excited and so everything was exciting and fine with her and once- well, once everything hit her and she started getting readjusted to life in Paris, maybe she would be less fine with everything.

"Mom, this is Marinette- she's one of my best friends from school!" Adrien told Mrs. Agreste before Marinette could pull herself together. "She wanted to make sure that I wasn't waiting for you on my own, because I definitely would have gone crazy from anticipation."

"That's so sweet of you!" Mrs. Agreste exclaimed. "I'm glad that Adrien has made such great friends at- at school, right? I think I heard something about that."

Adrien nodded, and for the first time, Marinette saw some hesitance there. He had mentioned that his mom had been the one in charge of his homeschooling, at least for the earlier years, so she might be less than pleased about his move to public schools. "Yeah. I wanted to get out and go to classes and- and make friends. And it's been great! I'm learning a lot, and not just school stuff, either! There's a lot of social stuff that I've learned- that I'm still learning-"

"All good things," Marinette added hastily, before Mrs. Agreste could start jumping to conclusions about what kinds of things Adrien might be learning. "Dupont is a really well-behaved school, everyone- well, most everyone- is really nice."

"There's the odd bully, but everyone else is fantastic," Adrien added on. "It's really great, getting to experience group projects and proper presentations and, like, not being the only one answering questions. There's so many different points of view that people bring to the table!"

"I suppose that as long as the school is a quality one, it's probably fine," Mrs. Agreste decided after a moment's pause. "And normally I would assume that it had been properly vetted by Nathalie, but- well, I suspect that she's been a bit distracted. I'll want to have conferences with your teachers. When I get the time, that is." She sighed. "I suspect that I'll be quite busy for a bit. And- well, you're going to be entering lycée soon, I suppose I had better get on researching schools for that, too."

"My parents can send you some materials for the schools that most of the Dupont students end up going to," Marinette offered before Mrs. Agreste could get too wrapped up in lycée worries. "They're good schools, really- well, there's one that's not fantastic, but my parents won't have stuff for that school anyway."

Mrs. Agreste perked up. "Oh, that would be lovely, dear. Yes, yes, I suppose it wouldn't make much sense to look at all of the schools in the city anyway."

"Right," Adrien chimed in. He glanced at the waiting policemen. "Uh, should we see what they want…?"

Mrs. Agreste glanced that way, too, and the policemen took that as their cue to jog up the steps to join them. They smiled at Adrien and Marinette, then turned to Mrs. Agreste.

"We want to let you get settled and caught up with your family, of course, but we just wanted to let you know that the Paris police department is here for you," the shorter of the two policemen told Mrs. Agreste. "Let us know if people give you any trouble or if you need help with anything while you're settling back in. We started the procedure of undoing your status as a missing person as soon as the superheroes found you, so hopefully you won't have too much trouble as far as paperwork goes."

"Thank you," Mrs. Agreste told him. "And thank you to your entire department for arranging my flight home! It was so nice to have someone accompany me and make sure I didn't get lost in the airports on the way home!"

The policeman smiled. "Of course. And we do apologize that we couldn't just magic you back and you had to go through the flights in the first place. The superheroes wanted to use the- the Horse Miraculous, I believe?- to just magic you back home, but unfortunately that just couldn't be done."

Adrien and Marinette winced in unison. Using the Horse had been the plan originally, but somehow the Tibetan government had caught wind of the whole situation and stepped in. They had been none too thrilled with the idea of people magicking themselves over their borders unannounced and unmonitored and had ended up banning it. Which- well, a ban wasn't going to make the magic not work, but it was probably a good idea to act like they were going along with it. After all, Ladybug and Chat Noir would be popping over to the temple when they could for training in the future. If they resisted the government's order for Mrs. Agreste to travel the normal way, that could result in the temple being closely monitored and it would be impossible for them to slip in undetected.

So Mrs. Agreste had flown back to Paris.

"Oh, it's fine," Mrs. Agreste assured him. "I understand, and it wouldn't have made sense to cause an international incident over me. The important thing is that I'm back now!"

The police smiled at that, then quickly said their good-byes and piled back into their cars. They pulled out, and Marinette watched as the gates smoothly swing shut behind them. There were a few gawkers that had been near the gates, but they didn't linger long when the police cars paused.

"Well, now we're on our own," Mrs. Agreste announced, pulling Marinette's attention back to her. She was beaming at her and Adrien. "Why don't we all go inside? I want to hear about everything."

  Marinette and Adrien ended up waiting for two and a half weeks before they decided to "start dating" publicly, but as their civilian selves this time.

And, much to their relief, it went over well. It went over really well. Marinette's parents and their classmates had been waiting for it to happen, that much was obvious, and Mrs. Agreste….

Well, Mrs. Agreste was smugly satisfied with herself for having called it "literally the second that I got back, Adrien, I just knew that you were going to start dating that girl!".

The satisfaction, from what Adrien had told Marinette, was because she had been concerned that she wouldn't know Adrien like she had before and he might seem like a stranger to her now. The fact that she had picked up on the 'strong romantic currents' between the two right away had apparently been incredibly pleasing to her.

Marinette had laughed at that, but it had honestly been worth waiting a couple of weeks to "start dating" just for that reaction alone. It had helped Mrs. Agreste feel even more comfortable than they had anticipated, and that was definitely a good thing. Every time Marinette had seen her Mrs. Agreste had seemed a bit on the flustered side, trying to catch up with everything while still spending as much time with Adrien as she could. With the confidence that her son wasn't a completely different person and hadn't grown into someone unrecognizable- well, everything else didn't seem to be so daunting.

And- well, Mrs. Agreste's obvious approval put both Adrien and Marinette at ease, too, so it was a win on both sides.

Marinette smiled as she joined Adrien in front of the school, twining her fingers with his before they started up the steps together. A lot had changed recently, but- well, it had all been resolved really well. Adrien had a caring (if perhaps a little overly involved) parent at home again, he and Marinette were dating, and their secret identities were safely- well, secret. There were maybe a few odd ends that had to be wrapped up at some point- after all, Chat Noir had been coming over on a fairly regular basis and then suddenly stopped, and Marinette's parents were bound to wonder what had happened to their friendship at some point unless they did something about it- but for now, everything was in a good place.

"Where do you want to go for our lunch date?" Adrien asked, pulling Marinette out of the first musings about what, maybe, they could do about the whole Chat Noir-Marinette friendship situation. "Anywhere in particular?"

"Oh, there's a lovely little place down the street that sells these really good wraps," Marinette said at once, remembering the small store. "And we could either eat there or in the park. It's supposed to be really nice out today."

Adrien nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Yeah, that sounds good. I like that idea." He squeezed her hand lightly, sending her an adoring look that she automatically returned and- yeah, maybe it wasn't that much of a surprise that his mom had managed to pick up on their interest in each other. "I like this whole getting to go out on dates publically thing. No more secrecy, no more sneaking around."

Marinette nodded, rolling up onto her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek, because she could do that now, and it was amazing. "Me too."

Paris was safe, and now- now they could be normal teenagers again.

[enithinggoes]

The witch’s teachings, lesson 6: Some planning, some action

Lesson 6- Some planning, some action

The next weeks were full of urgency, I was attempting to gain as much mastery as possible over the benefits of my pact in a short timespan. My lessons with the witch turned mostly to this subject temporarily, I discovered I could see perfectly in the dark, and over much longer distances than ever before. With the right amont of focus, I could even perceive the surface thoughts in people’s minds, but I found that if they became aware of it they could obfuscate intentions with proper concentration, something that Morgana already seemed to have some experience with. She proposed that I try and combine my enhanced vision and mind-reading to read an opponent’s movements, though I was still not nearly fast enough to parry her strikes consistently with my dagger.

On the more direct side of things, if I envisioned myself manipulating an object a few translucent apendages of iridescent coloring, apparently invisible and intangible to others, would manifest and delicately follow my instructions, incredibly precise(I wager I could even sow some injuries as well as with my hands through them) though not very strong, unable to lift more than a few kilograms.

Once I had some control over these abilities we went on to gathering information to take down the duke, “He’s clearly not a complete stranger to magic if he could send a demon after me before, so we should know more about his capabilities before we strike”, explained my master, “so It’d be best to have a plan when we confront him.”

We commandeered another inquisitor wagon, and after defeating the knights on it, the driver was scared enough that even without the watcher’s powers he probably would have told us what he knew, still the insurance about his honesty was useful. Once we were done speaking to him, the witch told me to switch clothes with him, so I’d have a good disguise, and then we let him go, to flee to the nearest town.

While Morgana compared the wagon driver’s description of the Duke to what she had written down on different creatures and their characteristics, I decided it was time I had a talk with Lyssa. “Hi, seems like our next quest will be quite dangerous, are you nervous at all?”

She turned to me with a smirk, “to be frank, cat, not as much as you’d think. I mean, this is what I’ve been training for, right? Stopping the inquisition and taking down the people who think they can just kidnap and kill whoever they find threatening or strange. I’m happy the time seems to have come earlier than I expected.”

I chuckled, “alright, I have something to thank you for, I imagine it’s impossible you didn’t notice these.” I pointed to my changed eyes.

“Hey, if you didn’t want to tell me, felt there was no reason for me to ask,” she answered.

“Well, I don’t know what’s about to happen in the coming days, so I figured I should at least tell you where these come from, and also something about our master…” I explained to her my pact with the watcher, and the story behind master’s black hands and powers.

Lyssa seemed somewhat forlorn, she looked down and said “I see, so, she doesn’t trust me, thinks I’ll go mad for power huh?” Though her lips stayed rigidly straight, I guess she didn’t want to seem as bothered as she was.

I wanted to better explain my master’s thought process, and why she’d chosen to keep this information from Lyssa for the time being. “Look, I think she knows your heart is in the right place, and she trusts you enough to make you a powerful warrior. She might just not trust pacts in the first place, my encounter with the watcher was a complete accident. And she did plan to tell you so you’d be prepared, but she didn’t want you to seek it out.”

“I know!” she half-snapped at me, throwing the stick she was holding to the ground “ I just… I just don’t like her assuming I’d make those choices. Even if she didn’t see it as malice, she’s still thinking I’d make those mistakes and you wouldn’t.”

I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t really refute her complaints at all, so I just tentatively put my arm on her shoulder and brought myself close, saying “I’m sorry.” As softly as I could. Her whole body was tense, like she’d gone into an instinctive defensive state without anything to fight against.

We sat there for a while, not saying anything, before she pat my back lightly. “Thanks, cat, for trusting me with this, you’re a good friend.”

Soon, Morgana came back, she seemed agitated, but at the same time there was an electricity to her, like the euphoria people could experience in moments of great danger, both of these feelings bubbled under the surface of her voice and gestures when she explained: “Alright, here’s what we know, duke Lucius has his inquisitors head out about once a month, they usually bring back 2-4 people, usually women, accused of some form of “witchcraft”, all but one are publically executed, one is taken into the castle to “repent” in the chambers. The duke attends the executions by but he doesn’t go out for anything other than that, he stays in his room during the day, signing treaties and writing laws, and demands to be left alone during the night,” she gave a knowing smirk, “You may already suspect this, but I’m quite certain we’re facing a vampire.”

The witch raised her left hand, putting her fingers up as she enumerated the steps of her plan. “Here’s what we’ll do: you, familiar, can take us in the stolen wagon into the town, keep your hat over your eyes and don’t let anyone get too close lest they notice too much. We’ll head to the castle in the late twilight, early enough that the duke won’t suspect the time of his “meal” but late enough that we may have the advantage of the rising sun on our side, I don’t think it’ll outright kill a powerful vampire, but it might weaken him. We’ll need to stop by some other town to grab some stakes, maybe a torch or two, he’ll be very adapted to darkness.”

Lyssa had clearly listened as intently as I had, though she still had questions, “alright, but what should we know about the vampire’s abilities, what should I watch out for?”

 “I’ve only heard stories of battles against vampires so I am not entirely sure, but I know he’ll have superhuman speed, reflexes and strenght, as well as limited shapeshifting and mind manipulation abilities, though if you both keep your focuses I’m sure it won’t be enough to control you, since I don’t intend to have you fight him directly, it’s too dangerous. I only need you two to distract anyone at the entrance so I may sneak in and confront him” answered Morgana, her expression becoming deadly serious by the final sentence, so I felt a bit too intimidated to argue.

I got up from where I was sitting, raising my hand timidly to ask, “alright, despite the vagueness of this plan, I don’t doubt your ability to defeat the duke, but are you sure this will solve everything? I mean, even if their true goal is just to feed the duke and keep anyone too wise down, doesn’t mean the inquisition will stop if he dies, the ideology used to justify it might live on  with  the people in power left, and we can’t just go around killing every member, they might total at the hundreds!”

The witch clenched her fists and her lips stiffened, as she turned away slightly for a moment before answering, “I can’t solve everything, truth is, the power vaccumm that will follow could have dire consequences. But the thing is, we can’t just let duke Lucius keep his power. Every month we delayed this would be another group of people slaughtered! He may even extend his reach to other communities like…” She clenched her teeth, though she’d stopped speaking I could clearly hear “Like he did with me.” After she composed herself a bit she continued, “the point is, I’m not sure what will happen after I take him down, but it’s gotta be better than this. We’ll figure it out from there, I’m sure people will eventually learn that the man was a parasite and these towns can and should run without him, if we train more witches there’ll be less reason to fear what’s out there and therefore less reason for people to blindly follow the inquisition. We can’t plan everything out beforehand, but we’re not going in blind either. You’ve both shown me that others can and will pick up the cause when given the chance.”

I nodded in agreement, and Lyssa said “let’s do this then, wipe him off the face of the Earth.”

“Thank you”, said Morgana, “and one more thing, familiar. I think you’ve learned enough to be your own witch, even without me from now on, so it’s time you get a name, what do you think of Cato?” she suggested with a proud smile.

I was surprised, but very happy, hearing that had made me realize how much I’d learned over my travels with the witch, and I wouldn’t hesitate to say that it was that moment that inspired me to compile her principal lessons in this text. When I answered her, my voice carried joy I’ve seldom felt in my life, and true appreciation for my teacher, “I’ll wear it proudly”.