#i'm still trying to wrap my head around the 'helping you overcome your fears' thing

[pharawee]

I won't leave you. You're not alone, Name. You have me [...].

» BONUS:

Mom. I feel sorry for Name.

[xomakara]

Sailing Into The Unknown (001)

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

PAIRING | OT8 x AFAB!Reader LENGTH | 2,384 words GENRE | Action, Adventure, Fantasy, Romance, Drama, Angst, Pirate!ATEEZ, Pirate!Reader, yes there will be smut (I'll put those warnings on the chapters that have them) RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI TAGLIST | NETWORKS | AUTHOR’S NOTE | And we begin. Let us set sail!

SITU Master | Next

Chapter 001

"Get back here, you thief!"

You ran along the streets, your hair flying behind you like a flag in the wind. The people who walked past stared at you, curious about the scene that was unfolding before them, but they did not try to stop you. They were too afraid, perhaps. Or maybe they were scared of getting hurt. Regardless, it was probably better that way, because if you had encountered any pursuers, things would've gotten complicated fast.

A thief, he called you. He was wrong.

How could the greatest swordswoman in the country be called a thief?

You glanced around, trying to look inconspicuous, and made sure that no one was following you. Once you were certain you weren't being followed, you doubled your pace, trying to get away from the man as soon as possible. The roads became increasingly crowded as the sun began to set, but despite this, you didn't slow down; you needed to reach the docks. If you couldn't reach the docks tonight, you might never see another sunrise.

By now, your lungs were burning from running, and your legs felt heavy and sore. Even though the distance between you and your destination seemed impossible to overcome, you refused to give up. All you could do was push harder and faster, determined to escape from the man pursuing you.

"That's right, thief! Come out, come out wherever you are!"

Lord, this man was persistent. You were tempted to confront and fight the man, but if you drew your sword, then there was a chance that the townsfolk would get hurt. You didn't want anyone else involved in this mess, so you'd just have to run faster. Hopefully, you'd make it to the docks without encountering anyone else.

Just when you thought you wouldn't be able to take another step, someone grabbed onto your arm and yanked you into an alleyway. You gasped in surprise, your hand quicky reaching for your sword.

"Shhh...I'm here to help you." The figure said.

When you looked up, you found yourself looking into a pair of gorgeous brown eyes, smiling warmly at you. Your breath caught in your throat as you noticed the bright smile that illuminated his handsome face, and you struggled to remember why you'd been running.

"I'll answer all your questions later." The man chuckled. "But first let's get rid of that man that has been following you like a hound."

Without waiting for your response, the man held his hand out to you.

You hesitated for a moment, your hand still hovering over your sword, but eventually you took the offered hand and allowed yourself to be pulled to safety.

"Apologies in advance for doing this." He muttered, tugging your body against his, one hand wrapping on your lower back, the other going to rest on the nape of your neck. "You can beat me up later if you wish."

In an instant, the world around you melted away. No longer were you fighting to keep from being cornered. Instead, you stood next to the man, the warmth of his chest brushing against yours as he lowered his head to speak softly in your ear.

"This should hold him off for a little while." He whispered, sending shivers down your spine.

"Who are you?" You asked nervously. His hands moved up and down your arms in soothing motions, his touch so gentle and comforting that you were surprised that your heart wasn't racing wildly.

"Kim Hongjoong." He replied simply. "Captain of the Ateez."

Your eyes widened in shock. Of all people to run into, you run into the captain of the most notorious ship on the seas. This was the man that had songs and stories dedicated to him, that every seafarer feared. The same man that brought havoc to every port and ship he visited. You never thought he would be this young. He was perhaps a year or so older than you but for him to accomplish something as big as being captain of such a notorious ship was quite impressive.

You weren't scared of him. How could you be scared of him if you were one of the best swordswoman in the land? But you couldn't shake the strange feeling that this man was somehow different. For some reason, you knew you could trust him, that whatever he told you would be the truth.

Hongjoong tightened his grip on you, turning so that your back was facing the man that had been chasing you. "Just pretend that we're a couple and everything will be fine." He murmured, brushing his lips against your cheek. "I want to avoid any kind of fight and bloodshed."

Your entire body tingled at the gentle caress of his lips against your skin, your pulse fluttering at his closeness. Suddenly, you realized what you were doing. Here you were, holding onto a man who was the most notorious pirate on the seas. A man who made life hell for innocent ships and captains alike. And yet here you were, feeling safe and secure with him.

For reasons unknown, your hands instinctively reached up and rested on his shoulders. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself gazing at his impossibly beautiful face, your fingers grazing over his broad muscles. You gulped at the knowledge that this man was holding you close, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

"He's gone." Hongjoong whispered as soon as you came back to your senses. He released you, giving you a curious look. "Tell me something. Why is a warrior like you, running away from that man?"

"I have no clue to be honest." You shrugged. "I was minding my business walking through the marketplace and the man seemed to think I stole something from him. Why would I steal something if I have the means to pay for it? I may be a sword for hire but I'm certainly not a thief."

Hongjoong chuckled softly, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe he just a beautiful woman alone on the streets and wanted to take advantage of you. To sell you. It happens all the time."

"He'd have to go through my blade before he attempts that." You growled angrily.

"With a sword like that? I believe you." Hongjoong smirked, patting you on the head affectionately.

You blinked a few times, surprised at his sudden show of affection. It wasn't often that you got along well with men and it definitely wasn't common for them to act nice towards you. Most treated you like you were some sort of lower creature that needed to be treated like dirt.

Despite your outward appearance, you were an odd commodity of sorts. Although you were a woman, you were skilled in swordsmanship and magic. While the majority of female warriors fought with bows and arrows, you preferred to wield a sword, and you were even better than most men and women when it came to using magic. Because of your skills, you've managed to gain quite a bit of notoriety throughout the lands and among the citizens of the kingdoms. People would know of your name but they didn't exactly know how you looked. That was the way you liked it. You preferred to stay under the radar and blend in with the crowd rather than be the center of attention.

"I have an interesting proposition for you." Hongjoong said as he took in your form. "What do you say if I asked you to join my crew?"

"You want me to join you?" You exclaimed in disbelief. "A swordswoman, a sword for hire, joining a pirate crew?"

He nodded his head. "Yes, I think you would fit right in."

"You sure? You haven't even seen me in action." You raised an eyebrow.

"I don't need to see you in action to know who you are." Hongjoong grinned mischievously. "It will be great to have the legendary Y/N join my ranks. What do you say?"

"So the notorious captain of the Ateez knows who I am." You laughed softly. "If you insist on having me, then I suppose I won't argue."

"Wonderful!" Hongjoong exclaimed happily. "Follow me, my lady."

"I'm not a noble lady, captain." You shook your head. "Just a warrior."

"Doesn't matter. It'll just be fun to address you as 'my lady' once in a while." Hongjoong smiled widely.

Without waiting for you to respond, he turned around and walked towards the docks, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. As you followed closely behind him, you couldn't help but laugh silently to yourself. Here you were, being chased by a man who called you a thief and now you were joining a pirate crew.

Things were definitely going to get interesting.

You followed Hongjoong onto the ship without question. The moment you stepped foot on board, everyone was staring at you, most of them whispering amongst themselves. At first, you felt self conscious but Hongjoong shot you a reassuring smile, his gaze meeting yours briefly before looking at his crew.

"Everyone, gather round." Hongjoong ordered loudly, waving his hand around so that everyone's attention was focused on him. "I have an announcement to make."

All heads turned your way immediately, curious expressions marring their faces.

"Our newest addition has arrived." Hongjoong grinned. "Crew meet Y/N. Y/N meet the crew. I know it's unheard of that we have a woman join our ranks but she's a rare gem. She's incredibly strong, courageous, and has her own set of skills."

He turned to you. "Everyone here are pretty formidable fighters so you won't have to worry about anything. Let me introduce the crew to you."

Hongjoong gestured to a man, whose chest peeked out from his shirt in order to reveal a silver star pendant hanging on his neck. "Park Seonghwa, our Quartermaster. He's my second-in-command, my right hand, responsible for maintaining the crew, managing the money, purchasing new weapons and supplies, as well as planning our missions."

"Next is Jeong Yunho, our First Mate." Hongjoong nodded to a rather tall man, who was leaning casually against one of the railing posts. "He is responsible for the safety and security of the ship. He is my left hand, so if I or Seonghwa are indisposed, he takes charge."

"Our Helmsman, Kang Yeosang," Hongjoong said next, nodding his head to a shorter, handsome man standing beside him. "Yeosang can steer and sail the ship at high speeds, a useful skill to have during our expeditions. He's also very intelligent, which will come in handy."

"This is Choi San. The Master-at-Arms." Hongjoong turned to a muscular man standing near him. "He helps Yunho with the safety and security of the ship. He also helps trains the crew. You will be aiding him, since you are both exceptionally skilled with the blades. I’m also placing you with him and Yunho for safety and security."

"That one over there is Song Mingi, our Navigator." Hongjoong gestured to another tall man, whose long black hair swayed gently with every movement he made. "Mingi keeps track of our position in relation to land and other ships. His ability to read the stars is unparalleled."

"Our cook, Jung Wooyoung," Hongjoong continued, turning to a man sitting behind him, sipping tea. "Wooyoung makes the best food this side of the ocean. With his cooking skills, no one ever gets sick."

"And this here is Choi Jongho, the Boatswain," Hongjoong finished off, gesturing to a man in blue. "Jongho is in charge of maintaining the ship. If he asks you to do something, just do it. He always gets what he wants, regardless of the consequences."

After making his introductions, Hongjoong clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "I hope I didn't scare you away. Everyone is friendly and they will treat you fairly."

"So...Y/N, huh?" San spoke up. "Since we'll be working together, I'd love to spar against you. Just to get to know you."

"Me too." Yunho added enthusiastically. "We can train together whenever you're free. Just let me know when."

"Are you serious?" Hongjoong burst out laughing. "Y/N just joined us and you guys already want to challenge her to a fight. Why don't we let her adjust to her new surroundings first? Give her some time to relax and rest. Then when she's ready, I'll just sit back and watch her kick your asses."

"No way, Captain." San scoffed. "I've yet to find someone who could beat me."

Hongjoong grinned. "Oh, you'll be surprised then."

"I guess my name hasn't reached the seas." You let out a laugh. "Trust me, I'm a very skilled fighter. I'll give anyone a run for their money."

"Don't be so cocky, Y/N." Seonghwa suddenly interjected. "San and Yunho are pretty good fighters. Just wait until you're faced with them."

"We shall see." You winked playfully at them. "But before that happens, you heard what captain said. Let me adjust to my new surroundings. Maybe later I'll show you two what I got."

"Sounds like a plan." Yunho nodded his head enthusiastically. "It's been awhile since I had a sparring match anyway. It would be nice to hit something again."

"Me too." San agreed. "It's been awhile since I last trained with any of the men here."

"All right, men, let's get going." Hongjoong clapped his hands once more, pulling everyone's attention back to him. "It's time to leave. Prepare the sails and get the Ateez ready for departure. Y/N, follow Seonghwa to your quarters and rest up. We'll be leaving port soon."

Hongjoong waved his hand dismissively at everyone before heading towards the gangplank, his long legs carrying him easily across the deck. You watched him disappear into the distance before turning to look at the stern of the ship. You caught sight of the crew gathered together by the gangplank and couldn't help but notice the glint in the men's eyes as they stared back at you.

There was an air of excitement among them, almost as if they were eager to prove to you that they were indeed worthy opponents.

You smiled lightly. This was going to be a different adventure for you. And judging from the looks of things, you were definitely going to enjoy it.

[funkymbtifiction]

Hi, sorry to bother you, but I'm going through a type crisis and need your help! I think I may be the reverse version of that trend of INFPs mistyping as INFJ just because they want to be INFJ really bad, but I can't be sure. My brain is just too confused. The types I currently have on the table are INFP, INFJ, INTJ and ISFP which is kind of upsetting because those types are each so different and it feels like I'm practically at square one again.

For reference I think I'm an attachment type on the enneagram which might influence/explain my behaviors as well. Although I love telling people to be themselves and value self-expression myself, I always find myself conforming to the group and am very sensitive to what other people think of me. I love aesthetics and appearance and will dress 'quirky' not just for myself, but if I think people will view me positively for it. I tend to turn to outside sources for validation or information. Even when I'm by myself, free from judgement, I have this internal fear of being 'cringe' that I need to overcome because it makes me feel like a hypocrite.

This is indeed strong attachment and probably a social dominant instinct (so/sp is most likely). Social 6 or 9 would both feel this way, but I lean a little more towards social 9w1. It could also be Fe, yes.

However, I am also very withdrawn from others like a 9 and spend a lot of time in my head fantasizing and daydreaming. I'd rather be drawing or creating something than exhausting myself with other people though I do always end up enjoying it when I leave my comfort zone.

That fits with 9.

But anyway. I say I need help because I've always thought of myself as INFP until recently I realized I might possibly be a Ni-dom. I guess I never considered it before because I'm not a psychic wizard and I don't ponder the meaning of life daily. However, my thought patterns feel like Ni nonetheless.

Most people don't really understand Ni, and it's difficult to wrap your head around it if you don't have it. Have you read my Ni section?

Ever since I was a kid I've loved to create epic plans for my future and make lists of the things I would need. I would come up with these outlandish ideas (for example, I imagined building a swimming pool full of fish like an aquarium!) but still tried to fact-check and make it 'realistic' to be sure I could really do it. Since I've grown up a bit, those far-fetched ideas have been replaced with more reasonable ones, but I still have a tendency to think big and go deep, like when I get struck with an idea at 2AM and meticulously plan it out before I can do it and get no sleep.

The attachment to realism is either a strong sensing function or a strong thinking function. An ISJ would try to be realistic with their future ambitions and so would an ISP. The fact that you imply that your dreams were "far-fetched" and you've now matured out of them might mean you have a strong sensing function. Meticulous planning can be Si-driven if that's about all the details, or Ni-driven, if you are envisioning exactly what you want and trying to see how to get it.

I'm very introspective but mostly of myself (this isn't Fi, is it??) and often get super 'meta' with my thoughts which obviously has made this typing process a hell of a ride, lmao. I can kind of see Ne in my thought process as well but I'm not really 'scatterbrained.'

Ne is more how outside ideas cause you to get more ideas of your own -- it's not really scatterbrained (that's a stereotype), so much as A reminds you of X and that gives you an idea of how to use Y. You may want to read my ENP sections, as well as my IFP sections, on the above mentioned website to get a sense of them, because you are using broad generalities / stereotypes when referring to functions and it's hard for me to give you an objective analysis when I'm not positive you "know" what each function does internally.

[...] I just don't relate to the emotional distance, and definitely not the bluntness, of Te. I'm only emotionally detached when I feel like being heartfelt is too 'cringey', but I find that happens more within close circles without the external validation that it's OK to show empathy. Again, that could be my enneagram softening that up, but I really feel like I'm too considerate of others' feelings to be Te.

Of course you won't relate to it. IFPs can never be emotionally detached unless something is wrong (a Te grip). They filter everything through their feelings and moral judgments about the situation. So you are not going to relate to TJ descriptions.

On the other hand, I don't relate to the 'we' or group mentality of Fe. Even when I want to, I'm not super good at knowing what to say to comfort other people and find listening to people vent to be very draining and not worth my time. <- this is definitely not FJ; eww, don't come at me with your problems is more Fi-dom/9.

Finally, my opinion on the sensing functions. I have a pretty bad memory, and I'm not a traditionalist or super reliant on the past, so I don't think Si. I can sometimes get struck with impulses that I will follow through with if no one's around to judge me for it, and like I mentioned earlier I do enjoy aesthetics, dressing up, making things look pretty, matching and well-coordinated. So that's my argument for Se. 

You sound IFP, so dig more into Se/Ni, since you could be ISFP.

[hywenhywen]

0.06 calla - nakamura kazuha

warnings / notes - loosely based off of calla by wave to earth, idol kazuha + non-idol reader

wc - 2.2k

“zuha?” you called out. sniffles echoed through the large apartment. sakura’s face had a look of worry as she watched you walk towards kazuha’s door. “can i come in..?” you asked, knocking gently on the wooden door.

a small, muffled no was heard from the other side. some rustling could be heard from the inside of the room.

“i’m going to be here for when you're ready to talk.” you said, taking a seat on the floor to the right of her door.

sakura started at you with a look of confusion, most likely wondering why you didn't just open the door. your head rested on the wall as you hummed a soft tune, one that was recognizable to both you and kazuha. soon you began to mumbled the lyrics, the words rolling off of your tongue. after a brief pause kazuha opened the door, quickly enveloping you in a tight hug. you wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her even closer, warm tears began to permeate your sweatshirt, leaving a dark spot.

“what happened?” you asked. you already knew what had happened. after an encore, people began to judge her for her abilities as a singer. you always knew that was a sensitive topic for her. you already knew but you wanted to hear her side of it, how badly it hurt, maybe even how she regretted becoming an idol.

“they said i can't sing well,” she said, sniffling occasionally. “i know i'm not as capable as others, but i'm trying my best, i’m keeping up with my vocal lessons and all.” she said as more tears left her eyes.

you wouldn't dare tell her not to cry as it is a normal human reaction. feeling bad when someone gives negative feedback, no matter the tone. all you could do was comfort her, reassure that she'd overcome this. after all, she'd gotten this far all on her own, there wasn't much she couldn't do. so you let her cry, cry until she tires herself out, until she feels better.

yet you don't let her wallow in it for too long, whispering small comments about how well she's done so far, that it's human to be imperfect. it just goes to show that she is like everyone else, she is human. you don't dare let go of her fearing that at some moment these negative emotions might take an even bigger toll on her, you'd rather bear the pain than let her deal with it all by herself. you whisper sweet nothings to her, telling her that she'll be fine, with time that is. everything takes time in this life, nothing comes easy.

“think of all the fearnots that love you, that look up to you.” you say. “they think you're the best, they outnumber all the negative people.”

she shook her head, the negative comments must've really taken a toll on her. she stops crying but it's evident that she still felt awful. she wipes her remaining tears and sniffles one last time before pulling away from you. she looked at you and smiled weakly, you didn't know how else to help you and that made you feel sick. you told her that she should sleep a bit, think good things.

she agreed and headed to her bed, you followed behind but sat at the foot of the bed, a book in hand. although kazuha knew she wouldn't remember what you were reading to her, she enjoyed hearing your voice. it soothed her aching heart. it reminded her that someone would always be in her corner, no matter the time. kazuha thinks you're her rock, she tried to never give up after she met you, she always put 110% of her energy, if not more.

rain started to patter on the window, the once blue sky was now grey. the clouds covered any trace of the sun and the city darkened. you opened the book and began reading at a slow pace. you flipped page after page, waiting to see kazuha asleep, and surely enough, she had fallen asleep. you placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and began to leave the room.

“sleep well, pretty girl. i’ll be waiting for you to feel better.” you said, slowly closing the door.

after about two hours, a very sleepy kazuha walked out of her room. messy hair, one pajama pant leg rolled up, and in a very groggy voice she spoke.

“is y/n still here?” she said, walking into the kitchen while waiting for a response.

to her surprise you weren't to be seen, neither was sakura. the whole dorm was silent. to say she was shocked is an understatement, she was baffled. how could you two leave without her, scratch that, where had you two gone.

she went back to her room and grabbed her phone. she quickly messaged you asking where you had gone and if it would take you long to get home. you swirly responded and told her that you went to the market and would be back in a while. kazuha decided to sit on the couch as she waited for you to come back. little did she know that she'd be waiting for a while. after what seemed to be an eternity, you and sakura walked into the house, many bags in your hands.

“what's that..?” kazuha asked, eyeing the bags curiously.

“i’m going to make something to eat,” you said, setting some of the bags on the kitchen island. “sorry we took so long, it was supposed to be quick.”

“it's fine, i only woke up about an hour ago.” she said, sounding mildly sarcastic.

“oh, i also brought you some takoyaki i found.” you said, taking out a small container from a bag.

you saw how kazuha’s face lit up at the mention of food.

“it's still a bit hot so be careful.” you warned.

kazuha seemed to not have heard your words and practically leaped for the container. she hurriedly opened the container, releasing warm steam and a pleasant smell. she picked one up and put the whole thing into her mouth. you saw how her face turned a light shade of red as she burned the roof of her mouth.

she slightly parted her lips and began to fan her mouth in an attempt at cooling down the takoyaki.

“i told you.” you said, while handing her a glass of water with two ice cubes.

kazuha hastily chewed and swallowed the steaming takoyaki. she then grabbed the glass of water and took a few sips. you saw as she sighed in relief.

“i’ll eat slowly this time.” she said while reaching to grab another one.

this time, staying true to her word, she ate the takoyaki in smaller bites.

“zuha,” you said, momentarily pausing. “we have to talk about earlier.”

you heard as she let out an exasperated sigh. “we don’t have to.” she muttered.

the silence that followed was awkward and tense, as if you two were strangers. an agonizing minute passed and you spoke again.

“we do though.” you said.

kazuha sighed softly and said, “ok, let’s talk.”

you faced kazuha and composed yourself. “what people say about you,” you hesitated. “you shouldn’t get too hurt about it.”

“i know.” she said while avoiding eye contact.

“look at me.” you pleaded, grabbing her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “i mean it zuha.”

“people will say mean things for fun. they’re mad that you're living out your dream and that they are stuck living miserably.” you stated. “nobody’s perfect and you know that, the only thing you can do is try and improve.”

kazuha looked down at her lap and then she looked up and met your eyes. tears were threatening to fall from her eyes and her face was now tinted with a pink hue.

you pulled her into your arms and whispered sweet nothings in her ear. you held her tightly as if she would disappear in a moment.

“zuha,” you whispered. “you’re doing your best, there’s only so much one can do.”

you felt her smile weakly against the fabric of your shirt as her grip on you tightened.

“i love you so much,” you said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “always remember that.”

“i love you too.” she mumbled. “thank you for loving me.”

“i would love you for a million lifetimes if i had the opportunity.” you said.

kazuha just hummed as you held her tightly. a comforting silence filled the house as you stayed still, just basking in each others presence. the rhythmic pattern of soft breathing soothed your heart as you pressed a heartfelt kiss to her cheek. you stayed like that for a while, holding onto her as if she could vanish at any second.

“zuha,” you said, slowly pulling away from her hold. “i brought something else for you.”

you pulled away completely and walked over to the kitchen counter. you rummaged through a few things before laying eyes on the white flower. a calla flower. you walked to kazuha and handed her the flower.

“i saw it at the store and thought it looked nice,” you said while kazuha took the flower into her hands. “it reminded me of you.”

“it reminds you of me..?” kazuha questioned, eyeing the flower strangely.

“it’s beautiful and it looks elegant. it gives off the same vibe you do.” you explained. “it doesn't make much sense.”

she chuckled a little as she examined the flower carefully. “it sure is beautiful.” she smiled.

“zuha, do you want to go on a walk with me?” you asked while walking towards your keys.

“sure,” she said. “where are we going?”

“i don’t know.” you said as you turned to smile at her.

she tilted her head to the side and looked at you with a questioning face. “so we’re just going to walk around?”

“i suppose,” you said, placing a pensive hand on your chin. “i didn’t really think before i spoke.”

“i can see.” she commented as she stifled a laugh.

kazuha walked closer to the door and reached for her shoes. she rapidly slipped on her shoes and then turned to face you. “are you ready to go?”

“yeah.” you said, opening the door and letting kazuha walk out first before following right behind her and closing the door as you left.

you two remained quiet as you walked down the corridors of apartment complex. your hands brushed against each other occasionally which caused you both to smile softly. finally reaching an elevator, you turned to face kazuha.

“wanna take the elevator or the stairs?” you asked, turning to face the two sets of doors.

“it doesn’t matter” she replied.

hearing her response you turned to face the elevator and pressed the button. you closed you eyes and threw your head back as you waited.

soon you heard a ding that signaled the elevator had arrived. the metal doors opened and both of you stepped inside. the doors had closed again and kazuha pressed the button for the main floor. the ride down was silent but comfortable. soft music played as the elevator went down.

the elevator soon reached the lobby and you both stepped out, walking towards the entrance. the cool evening air immediately enveloped you both, the contrast in temperatures made you shiver. you reached to take kazuha’s hand and lead the way. the busy streets and bright lights gave the city a vibrant feel. although you didn't exchange many words there was understanding between you.

after walking for about ten minutes you found a secluded park and led kazuha to sit on the grass. you sat down beside her and laid down. the blades of grass grazing your exposed nape. kazuha followed suit and laid down too. you looked up to the see the stars that adorned the night sky.

“this is nice, right?” you asked, turning to face kazuha. kazuha hummed in response and continued looking at the twinkling stars. “we should do this more often.”

“we really should, this is relaxing.” kazuha said, her eyes closed as she began to let loose.

you two stayed silent for a while, listening to the sounds of people talking and vehicles passing by. the night continued on, the air growing cooler as the night progressed. you reached to take kazuha’s hand in your own. you ran your fingers over her knuckles, the feeling of her soft skin contrasting the rough feeling of the ground.

“i love you, zuha,” you confessed. “i really do.”

“i love you too.” she said. “i don’t think i’ll ever stop loving you.”

you smiled at her words and closed your eyes, melting into the ground. with each passing second you could feel your heart begin to grow fuller with love. a love so pure that everyone envied. the night went on and the city began to quiet down as you two finally decided to head back home. walking back, interlocked hands swinging back and forth like two lovesick teenagers. at the end of the day, the rain would subside and the sun would once again shine down on you both.

back to shore | 0.07

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Never enough |Chuuya comfort x Reader

Angst and fluff time

Never enough |Chuuya comfort x Suicidal depressed Reader|

Warnings- mentions of Self-harm, heavy depression, suicide, lack of love for one's self. -I honestly wrote this as a self-comfort cause I needed something, so it really is triggering-

Word count- 1,700 words (roughly)

Life is a storm, full of calm eyes and rough winds that threaten to knock you over. Within life, there are ups and down; rough and soft moments in the storm. Tears are like rain, drizzling and pouring. There are light cries and heavy cries just like the sky. Happiness, fear, sadness, anger; emotions are weather. There are sunny days; happiness, thunderstorms; fear, rainy days; sadness, hurricanes; anger.

The clouds wept today. Wrapping around the moonlight, it hid the light. Water made heavy clinking noises against metal. The rush of cars swooshed against water as they sped by, the sound of a silent street followed. There were no voices, no couples, no people within eyesight or earshot. Today was a rainy day; a sad day. Tears fell in pattern with the falling water. Crimson dissipated within the water. Flowing down the roof the water washed it away. Clothing stuck, hair fell, eyes continued to look down.

You felt alone, afraid, disgusted, and angry with yourself and others. Your legs dangled off the edge of the roof. Listening to the music of sadness; a rainy night, you hummed. There was nobody else there with you, besides your thoughts you were alone. Though it was no surprise, it happened all the time.

People leave, people move one, people are not permanent. There is death in life; life in death. You pondered the meaning of such similes often. Running arms over your soaked clothes you choked on sobs. Letting out silent cries you shed the pain. Out of alcohol and still sober enough to feel you tossed the empty bottle to the roof entrance. It shattered to hundreds of pieces, adding sound to your cries. This isn't normal; to feel like this. You hated the things you’ve done, the job you could not back out from. You hated the way you looked. It didn’t matter what people said to you about being perfect the way you are. The small voices of people who put you down stood out. The ones that edge this crippling insecurity stuck out the most. They say the smallest flame can do more damage than the largest flame. It makes sense though, a large flame grows from the smallest flame. The large flames that start that size often take a while to do the same damage a building flame has done. Words worked like that; the smaller words that came from those close built into raging flames.

You shouted curses under your breath, looking to your lined arms, you choked back another sob. Why, why did you do these things? They were temporary freedoms from this pain but it never lasted; like drinking. Everybody needs a way to tell these feelings to fuck off, but at points, it doesn't work. Those thoughts cross the mind. The permanent solution to what they call a temporary problem. It isn’t always temporary, sure it goes at times to reveal the sun, but then it returns three-fold. It never leaves forever, they say it gets better, but sometimes it's hard to see that light at the end. Sometimes it's so far away it seems impossible to reach unless somebody else can help.

Everybody says it’s alright to be like this. Yet, they never help, they never offer up their hand to pull you out of the quicksand. They never attempt to push you forward in the tunnel. They stand, and they watch you break, until it’s suddenly benefiting for them to step in. Then, they dare to ask why you’re like this. It’s not a choice, it’s not something that can be so easily controlled. It’s a monster with its talons tearing into you.

So maybe, that’s why you did it. That’s why you inched closer and closer. Maybe that’s why you looked up and shut your eyes. Tapping fingers against the rooftop's edge. Humming tunes to try and steer your thought from doing the last resort. Just before the wrong decision could be made, you were grabbed and pulled back.

You felt so far from the world, nothing was clicking or connecting the dots. A harsh sting to your cheek brought your mind swirling back to the present. Noticing you were paying attention, the dark silhouette of a short male shouted words. “What were you thinking!” he hissed holding your shoulders with a firm grip.

“I… I don't know?” you mumbled feeling the tears swell in your eyes again.

“You don’t know? What the hell, I know we're all a little messed up but you can't…” it fell on him, his voice cutting out as he fell to his knees. His hands slid around you. Firmly holding you, he yanked your soaked body to his. His umbrella only hid your bodies from the wind with his ability. “How long, tell me how long.” his voice was breaking but still stern.

“I don’t know? Weeks, months, maybe years?” you don't move, afraid and cold, you could not meet his eyes. “Why do you care? You’ll just end up the same as everybody else. I’m worthless right? I mean, everybody leaves me alone. I don't fit beauty standards to perfection. Nobody would want me so, why not? Why not take the shortcut to happiness?” you were slapped again. It was light, but it stung enough to snap you from those thoughts again.

“Ya well think about somebody else! I don’t need two suicidal idiots! Having one to worry about is enough! Not that I worry about that mongrel! I do about you though, you’re my drinking partner. You’re the one who managed to get me to open up to being touched! I don’t hug or act... soft with anybody else! You don’t get to take that away! I don’t care what you look like, sound like, fuck, I don’t care about anything but what’s in there. In that fuckin heart! I am not a softy, you know I don’t say shit like this often but… you can’t do that! If you're miserable enough to really be willing to toss it all away, then you should talk to somebody!” his voice was panicked. Yes, he was being selfish. He knew that this wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t a feeling you could so easily overcome. Yet, here he was hoping that you would let him help you.

“I'm sorry! I’m so sorry! I just… I thought… wouldn’t it be better for everybody though? Sure you'd be sad at first but you'd forget about me!” Chuuya shook his head. Meeting your eyes with his clouded ocean ones. Tears fell, almost unnoticeable within the pouring rain.

“No, no I wouldn't! I wouldn't because I love you! I fell in love, I don't know how or when it… it just happened! Isn’t this enough? One person, am I not enough? If I had known I’d have held you to me, given you all the cuddles you ever needed!” he buried his face into the crook of your neck. He didn’t care if you felt the same or not at this point. He just needed to let you know somebody cared for you.

“Chuuya…” a light in the tunnel, it formed inside the tunnel.

It is, as they say, eventually you will meet that light. You will find meaning in your life. Something good will happen, then, all the people who put you here will be nothing but bad memories, and lingering ghosts of the past; You can move on. A light will come to you eventually, no matter how dark it seems, that light will show itself. In a friend, a relative, a job offer, an achievement. Those beads of light spread and eventually, they will pull you out enough to know true happiness.

When Chuuya looked worriedly to you, he was taken aback by your arms tossing around him. Your tears being muffled by his own lips. He kissed back before pulling away. Even if you still felt low you were slightly feeling better. Just knowing there was somebody to hold you like this was enough to curve the thoughts for a while.

He took his jacket and wrapped it around you, lifting you into his arms. He carried you to his penthouse, setting you down on the couch located in his bedroom. He looked around, finding one of his larger hoodies he tossed to you. He started hot chocolate as he waited for you to change. You’d probably be sick tomorrow, given it had been cold and you were drenched.

He carried the mug back to the couch, placing it down, he frowned. Walking to a closet, he pulled a small towel out. Rubbing it against your skull as you sniffled, he sighed. “Do you need anything else?” shaking your head, you grabbed his arm.

“Just… some cuddles?” he nodded holding you close, trying to warm your frigid body up. “Did you mean it? You'd really care if I…”

“Yeah, I did, is there a problem? I know it may not mean much. I know how depression works, at least a little bit. It’s not something that can be easily controlled. I just want you to know that you are perfect to me. If somebody ever tells you otherwise, I'll crush them to a pulp.” cracking a small smile, Chuuya's eyes lit up. “There we go, a small smile is a win. So you like me being all protective? Good, I’m a little territorial.”

Looking at him you nodded. “Yeah… okay.” you still sounded so sad.

“I'm serious! I’d squash even Mori if he insulted you in any way! You’re the most perfect thing I've ever seen and known! You're beautiful outside and inside, people are just jealous of how perfect you are.” he was trying to lift your spirits and it seemed to work a little.

“Can we just stay like this?” Chuuya nodded, letting you lean your head on his shoulder. He didn’t move even as you fell asleep.

[aimfor-theheart]

COIN TOSS– PART III

(18+ MINORS DNI)

PART I → PART II

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader, a little Shouta Aizawa x Reader

SUMMARY: As you fall asleep, you wonder faintly, almost sadly, if you’re the first thing he’s fully touched without losing in a long time.

You are Eraserhead’s troubled protege with a Quirk that cancels out others the moment they touch you. Tomura Shigaraki takes great interest in you.

(Enemies to lovers, a lot of angst, some hurt/comfort)

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, age gap/power struggle, violence, gore, Tomura’s trauma specifically, (in later chapters) murder, smut, some blurred lines, rough sex, a smidge of a spit kink, a smidge of somnophilia (let me know if I’ve missed anything!)

If you are under the age of 18, you should not be reading or interacting with this!

↳ A playlist I made for this fic, if you're interested!

A/N: here is your final part to this series! again, thank you @randomrosewrites for beta-ing this!! and thank you guys so so much for your support and comments, they mean so so much to me!! i had a lot of trouble with this last part, there was a lot of scenes i cut out and alternative endings before i settled on what is there now and i'm not even fully happy with it still lol. i have a lot of Thoughts about this, so feel free to reach out if you want to know more or just chat!! i hope you guys enjoy this!!

Read on Ao3

***

Shouta apologizes to you soon after. You sheepishly get out your own apology, even though you’d planned on holding a grudge a little while longer.

Still, Shouta confides that he also had his doubts and worries as a young hero and that he shouldn’t have dismissed yours. He talks in a soft, low voice for you, sits beside you on the edge of the couch.

You hate it because it’s easier to be at odds with Shouta lately, easier for your conscience. He put distance between the two of you, but you forced it apart further– if only to keep him in the dark. Maybe if only to spare yourself all the lying, all the pretending you’d have to do.

He says, “You know, you can always come to me. Whenever you need me.”

You have to swallow hard around the lump in your throat.

“I’ll always be here for you, despite everything.” he promises gently, trying to catch your eyes. Your gaze ducks away, out of his line of site.

Still, you hug him, tuck your face into his shoulder so he can’t see the guilt written across your face. Your secrets will constrict around you if you’re not careful. You know Truth is tricky and likes to reveal itself with Time’s help.

Once more, you become acutely aware of the clock ticking away on your relationship with Tomura.

But this time, you also realize how much trouble you could get in. You realize that you’re endangering Shouta now, too. You swallow hard, try to keep all of that down inside of you, but you feel nauseous suddenly. Bloated with guilt.

You wonder if you would’ve confessed to him then, if you would’ve spilled your guts the way you’d wanted to, if it would’ve saved you the heartache of it all.

Instead, you’d just clung to him, little fingers twisting in the back of his shirt, praying that you’d never need to make good on his promise. Praying you’d never need to test how far he’d go for you.

(It’s far– you’ll realize, further than it ever should’ve been. And you’re all the worse for it.)

***

Tomura thinks one of the troubles with heroes is their willingness to sacrifice anything for their greater good. He doesn’t think there’s anything noble in it, there’s nothing glorious or good in leaving their friend behind because they think it will save more. Nothing honorable in facing down a threat you know you can’t win against alone. What good is their world if they’re willing to sacrifice all that’s good to them in the process?

Everytime he watches you patrol, go up against other villains, maybe yakuza members, throw yourself in harm’s way needlessly, he realizes the Hero Commission uses heroes’ bodies as collateral damage. You are nothing to them. Even to other heroes; your sacrifice is expected. He knows it isn’t wanted, per se, but it isn’t surprising.

It doesn’t help that you have a streak of recklessness in you. You are quick to danger, just as quick to flash teeth and stand your ground, to fight mercilessly.

You struggle against large, powerhouse types. He watches you nearly get crushed or strangled some nights. Your Quirk doesn’t do much for you when your opponent has strength and weight to defeat you with a singular blow.

Your mentor is often pulling you out of danger with his capture weapon, yanking you away from a massive swinging arm or a curled fist about to smash you into the ground. But if it came down to you or the greater good, he knows what your mentor and your heroes would pick.

He thinks it’s strangely unfair, for you to give them your loyalty over him. He’s more loyal to you, isn’t he? There is very, very little he wouldn’t destroy for you. They would sooner let you be destroyed for the sake of their world.

Destroying the hero society that is so careless with you now feels, in part, like his gift to you. Freedom from the world that only cared about you when they realized you could be useful–

There is a night you become not just useful to your heroes but imperative.

It starts with your sacrifice, just as you were trained to do. You shove a civilian out of the way of a villain’s Quirk– it’s something with tusks and teeth that jut out from his body, sharp and ready to gut you.

Your mentor is busy with this villain’s accomplice.

Tomura watches when he shouldn’t. He was supposed to meet with Kurogiri, but he knows you patrol in this area and when there’d been commotion, he couldn’t help but watch from the shadows.

He watches one of those tusks jut towards you, your hand reaching out in hopes of disengaging the Quirk. But it’s a physical Quirk, not something like Dabi’s fire or his disintegration. And he doesn’t know if this Quirk disengages with it’s user or if it’s just his body.

Tomura feels his heart drop, the trapdoor given way to all icy fear as he watches one of those tusks pierce into your stomach.

Tomura stops breathing.

You grab hold of it, a scream getting caught behind your clenched teeth. Your fingers are tight, near frantic as you press into them– hope with everything in you, in him, that his Quirk disengages with yours.

Your broken off scream is wretched from your struggling body when another tusk rushes to crash into your shoulder.

You’re the only thing between the civilians behind you and this villain.

Your other hand reaches for the tusk at your shoulder, digging fingers and nails into it desperately.

Your eyes are bright and feverish with the hot pink of your Quirk.

Tomura stutters towards you, before the villain let’s out a pained groan. Your teeth are bared, blood bubbling up in your mouth, but you’re still standing, vicious and undeterred.

The tusks begin to crack where you grip them, splintering apart–

A sudden fission of light through those crevices, same fire pink as your eyes, arcs throughout the villain. A flare of it that makes the villain almost see-through, the lines of his bones burned by light, an x-ray flash, as if you’d struck him with lightning for a moment.

Eraserhead shouts for you.

When the flare dies, there is a scream of pain and it’s not yours.

The tusks shatter, splinter apart into gleaming bone that flies through the air.

You’re left standing, blood oozing from your stomach, your shoulder, but still standing, your eyes crackling and too bright.

The villain, tuskless, crumples at your feet, smoking. A normal, Quirkless looking man.

Did you–?

“What happened?” he hears the distant voice of your mentor, laced with worry, whose already reaching to staunch blood, blood that seeps so dark out of you. Tomura’s stomach rolls, twists suddenly, but you’re still standing. You’re okay– you’re okay–

“I-I don’t know.” you manage, but you sway into your mentor’s arms and Tomura has to look away, jaw clenched tight, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.

He hears, “I need an ambulance– there’s a hero and villain down–”

But he’s already turning away, his mind churning, trying to keep the nauseousness from overcoming him. He feels suddenly furious, that it can’t be him at your side, that he has to watch, pushed to the outskirts. His fingers rush to scratch at his neck, his throat, desperate for relief from the pressure that has built in his chest.

He will try to call you– later, much later– the only time you’ll answer him. He is certain you will be okay with your healers and–

He thinks of the flare of light, the breaking of those tusks, the sudden heap of that man on the ground. If Tomura is correct about what you’d done, about what your Quirk actually is, the heroes won’t let you die now.

No, now you’re imperative. Now you’re trapped.

And the destruction of hero society will be his gift to you, an end to all the strings in place, the hands holding you both back.

***

“You destroyed his Quirk.”

“W-what?” you manage to get out, wobbly. You’re bandaged up, your torso and shoulder wrapped in fresh gauze after Recovery Girl healed the worst of your wounds. You’d been sleeping, hooked up to an IV to aid you in recovering. “That’s not possible, my Quirk only cancels–”

The doctor that has entered to give you this news shakes his head, “No, we’ve done scans, tests, the works on this guy. His Quirk is gone from his DNA. No trace of it.”

Shouta, who's sitting beside your hospital bed, speaks up, “Is it possible that it will eventually return?”

“I suppose, but we think it’s unlikely. It’s gone from him. There’s nothing left. She destroyed it cleanly. It’s like it was never there at all.” The doctor answers.

“I don’t understand–” you manage to get out, your head beginning to swim, giving a painful throb at your temples.

“It seems your Quirk isn’t so simple as cancelling out another’s. It’s likely that subduing other’s Quirks was just the surface of yours.”

“Is the man okay otherwise?” Shouta asks now, fidgeting in his seat when he senses your sudden distress. He leans towards your bed more and you have the sudden urge to latch onto him and not let go.

“Physically, yes. He’s fine.” the doctor answers, “However, mentally...he’s inconsolable at the moment. As you know, Quirks are incredibly– well, they’re a part of who we are, aren’t they?”

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat.

You think Shouta says something else, finishes speaking to the doctor for you. The moment the door clicks shut, the tears that you stubbornly had been holding back rush forward.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” you get out on just a hissed breath. “I-I didn’t know I could.”

Shouta shushes you gently, “It’s okay, this happens. Sometimes people don’t know the full extent of their Quirk.”

“I destroyed his Quirk, it’s not okay!” you respond, guilt thickening inside of you, dragging you down heavy, clogging your throat and chest. “I didn’t mean to do that– what if I do it again?”

“You were under distress,” he soothes, reaching out to brush a tear away from your cheek, “Really, you were fighting for your life.” And when he says it, something gets caught in his throat. Something hitches in yours, too.

His eyes rove over your face slowly, taking you in carefully, as if he hasn’t been by your side the entire time. As if it wasn’t him in the ambulance, or him kneeling beside your bed when Recovery Girl put you back together.

“I should’ve been there. It shouldn’t have happened.” Shouta admits, the confession filling the small space between you two.

You take him in now, too, tired and worried, his face finally displaying the fear and care he has for you. It softens out his features, turns his eyes gentle and dark.

You realize suddenly that you miss him. You miss quiet nights on his couch as he graded papers. You miss his clothes and his cats and the tenderness that blossomed in all your silent spaces to fill you both out.

You wonder if he misses you as bad as you’re realizing you miss him.

You think of him cooking for one again, eating alone, and it does something horrible to your heart– mangles it, twists it up horribly.

It’s made all the worse because you’re lying to him. And here he is, at your bedside.

“S’okay, Shouta,” you get out, reaching up to touch his cheek with a trembling hand. He leans into the touch, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment. He savors your touch in a way that he hasn’t ever allowed himself to before.

But after a moment, he shakes his head fractionally, and he murmurs “I’m supposed to protect you.”

You don’t know why, but your bottom lip wobbles. Big, fat tears well up in your eyes, burn hot and put pressure on your already foggy head. You feel like you’re unraveling, your chest all swollen and tender, too, aching horribly.

You can’t decide if it’s because you’re lying and disobeying him so badly or because no one has ever bothered to say something like that to you, let alone mean it.

And you’re betraying him, your mind hisses.

When he notices, his face falls, his thumb moving to try and brush away your tears. “Don’t cry,” he hushes, “I’m sorry, don’t cry.”

You lean into his large and warm palm at your cheek, let him cradle and coddle you.

“I-I’m sorry–” you barely manage to choke out, for reasons far beyond him.

“No,” he coos, “No, sweetheart, don’t apologize.”

You choke on a sob and he grows more worried, leans over you more, brings his other hand up to stroke at your hairline, too.

He says your name softly, trying to soothe you, “Why are you crying, huh? What are you apologizing for?”

You shake your head, more tears loosening, your small fingers twisting themselves in the shoulders of his shirt. You think you’ll drown in all this guilt, it’ll fill your lungs with pressure, choke you out slowly as you struggle and thrash.

But for now, all you get out is a warbled, slurred, “Please don’t hate me–”

Shouta moves then, shifts to sit beside you on the bed. He’s painfully careful with you as he slides strong and sturdy arms beneath you, lifts you slightly into his lap, mindful of your IV, and cradles you to him.

You bury your face into his chest and try to hold back another sob as he murmurs, “Why would I hate you? I could never hate you.”

He strokes your hair, he hushes your cries, rocking you gently. Rocking you until you can stop crying, until you’re exhausted and aching and tender.

“I’ll help you with your Quirk,” he promises gently, holding you tight to him, “We’ll be okay, huh?” he murmurs, and it just forces another cry out of you, swallowed up by his chest that he cradles you to, “We’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

It’s the we’ll in that sentence that makes you squeeze him tighter. You wonder how willing he’d be to use it if he knew where you were every other night, who you filled your time with.

If he knew who called you late that night, when you’re alone in your room, aching and sore and alone. If he knew who you answered to, your voice hushed in the inky darkness;

“Tomura,” you exhale his name through the receiver.

“I saw what happened,” he answers instead, “I saw what happened today.”

You can feel the sudden jump of your heart, your nerves wringing themselves tight. “Oh,” you respond lamely.

To your surprise, Tomura rasps, “Are you okay?”

You don’t know why, but you cradle the phone to your cheek tighter, your eyes slipping shut for a moment.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Sore and tired, but I’m okay.”

“Good,” he responds, his voice softer than it usually is, just a breath when he asks, “What happened? What’d you do to him?”

You’re silent for a long moment. You can’t decide if you should tell him or not. You think of Shouta earlier and his voice like a hearth and the tender way he holds you, you think of his we’ll be okay.

But you can hear Tomura’s soft breath on the other line. You can see Ryuji in the patch of sun that splays out against the corner of the couch in the evenings. You think of him curled tight around you, like you’re the last good thing left on earth.

“I destroyed his Quirk,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “With mine.”

“That’s new,” Tomura almost hums, but it nearly seems like he was expecting the answer.

“I didn’t mean to.”

A quiet snort from him, “What are you trying to prove to me?” he asks, “I’m not your heroes. I won’t look at you differently whether you intended to or not.”

The thought strikes like an arrow between the ribs, sharp, sudden. It stings, when you realize it’s truth. How hard have you tried to prove yourself to Shouta? How hard are you trying to prove your goodness to yourself?

“You could’ve killed him,” Tomura says, “And I wouldn’t think differently.”

You wince for some reason when he says that, “Don’t–”

“What would your heroes think then?”

“Tomura–” you snap, voice gaining some bite, a warning.

But for some reason he presses, “How badly does the Hero Commission want you now? With a Quirk like that?”

“What?” you ask, suddenly shocked.

“Don’t be naive,” Tomura says and there’s an edge to his voice. He sucks in a breath, “That’s a big Quirk. Destroying someone else’s? You don’t think they’ll be interested in that?”

You feel the pressure of tears work their way through your head, your throat. Your fingers clutch so hard at the phone that your knuckles are turning white and before you can think, you hiss out, “And how interested are you now?”

“As interested as I was before.” he returns, sharp and quick, and then with a vitriol he hasn’t directed at you in months, he says, “Don’t compare me to them.”

You bare your teeth, tears stinging sharp at your eyes, prepared to fight back when he hisses, “Mark my words, they won’t let you go now.”

“Stop it,” you spit, “You don’t know anything–”

And he laughs at that, caustic, harsh, a grating sound. Villainous. It slithers through the phone, down your spine. Your stomach twists. You hate this– your head is throbbing. You don’t want to fight. You want to stop crying, God, you wish you could just stop crying–

“I’ll be here when you realize it.” he says and there is too much heat behind his voice, simmering and venomous. You can feel the end of this conversation, the bitter goodbye in his words.

Your bottom lip trembles, and for some foolish, lovesick reason, you gasp, “Wait– don’t hang up–”

But you hear the click of the other line and he’s fallen away from you, leaving you with an empty, static silence that buzzes around in your head. In your heart.

You throw your phone across the room. You hear it clatter somewhere in the darkness. You turn to press your face into your pillow and let out a sudden, childish scream. It tears at your throat, before tapering off into this pathetic little sob.

It’s worse because he ends up being right.

And it’s ironic because it’s another string tethering you to him, the ability to destroy something with a touch.

It’s like some part of him knew all along, or maybe some part of you.

You scream into your pillow again, louder, kicking at your covers before it breaks off into a bitter cry.

***

The Hero Commission is very interested in the new discovery of your Quirk. They run tests and scans on you, over and over again, trying to find something interesting. They want you to practice with it, but there’s no way for you to practice without potentially destroying other people’s Quirks.

They offer up criminals to practice on.

It turns your stomach.

“I don’t want to do this,” you tell Shouta one night after another long series of poking and prodding at you by white coats from the Hero Commission.

Shouta is silent for a moment, “No one is making you.”

“But they want me to. It’s expected of me.” you tell him.

“They want to make sure you can control it,” Shouta answers, “And the only way to do that is practice, unfortunately.”

Or do they just want to be sure they can control me? The question bubbles up unbridled inside of you. It sounds suspiciously like Tomura’s voice.

You frown, “I can control it. I don’t go around destroying Quirks with every touch. I just mute Quirks still.”

“Under distress, too? Can you summon it completely calmly? Or stop it in an instant?” Shouta asks.

“I don’t know– no, I don’t think so.”

“Then you can’t fully control it.” he answers, which makes you ball your hands into fists.

“It doesn’t feel right taking people’s Quirks– practice or not. And it’s controlled enough.” you respond, gaining a sudden edge to your voice.

“Then don’t do it.” Shouta responds, almost impassively.

You try not to grow upset or so frustrated that you say something you might regret. You swallow tightly. “Will you be disappointed? If I don’t?”

Shouta tilts his head and in the quietness you fear he will be, but he eventually answers, “No. You’re right; you have it controlled enough that it doesn’t hinder your day-to-day life.”

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Besides, if you’re under that amount of distress again, it probably flares for a good reason. It’ll probably save you if you ever need it again.” Shouta then says, “And if what they want you to do doesn’t feel right to you, then you shouldn’t do it.”

You stare up at him, a little surprised but–

Relief sweeps through you, sweet and cool.

“I trust your instincts,” Shouta says, the curl of his lips small but promising, as he reaches out to nudge your chin with his knuckle.

The guilt blindsides you later, so hard that it makes you lock yourself in your bathroom and keep a sob trapped behind the palm of your hands.

But for now, you smile up at him, the curve of your smirk playful, something he hasn’t seen from you in what feels like forever that you give to him again freely.

“Can I get that one in writing?” you ask and his answering laugh strikes you so suddenly it almost makes you dizzy and it’s like hearing the notes to one of your favorite songs that you hadn’t heard in a long time.

Like you couldn’t ever imagine forgetting it, now that you’ve heard it again.

***

Tomura wonders what it will take to make you leave your heroes.

Specifically, your precious mentor.

When he sees you again, you look like you did before nearly bleeding out in front of him and destroying the Quirk of another. It’s almost as if it never happened at all, almost like your argument never happened at all, either. In this little apartment where the rest of the world doesn’t exist, just you and him and sometimes Ryuji.

Except when he lifts your shirt there is a twisted, ugly scar from where they patched you up. Another at your shoulder. He doesn’t kiss it or run his fingers over it gently, he doesn’t make any sort of comment. He just thumbs at your waist and glares at it, wishes he could make it disappear like the villain who gave it to you.

(Not because he finds it ugly or unacceptable, only that it is now a permanent reminder of what he’d seen. Only that it reminds him that you are not guaranteed to him, not in life nor in loyalty).

You’re a little hesitant with him now. You feel more fragile to him now, too, like you’re holding something back, waiting for everything to finally fall.

The inevitable crash and break.

Tomura is gentler with you– he knows he needs to play his cards right now. It’s crucial. Something is building, even for the League of Villains. There’s more on the horizons.

And despite everything, he wants you there, when the sun is bloody and falling on a dismembered, new world.

He thinks he shouldn’t have pushed you now, when you’re so delicate, barely stitched together. But he had– he’d started another argument. He’d tried to convince you of the heroes’ lack of care for you, their greediness upon discovering the depth of your Quirk.

You throw it back in his face; isn’t that what All For One does to him? Isn’t that what he does for the League of Villains? Aren’t they all just pawns for him? Is that what he wants of you?

He seethes, digging into the skin of his neck desperately. You don’t stop him. He can feel the facade of this little apartment beginning to crumble, fall away into dust and he–

He knows he destroys everything he touches.

But you were supposed to be different.

(You are, his mind hisses, you are, you are, and that’s the worst part of it all).

You storm out that night. You leave him, no doubt to return to your precious mentor.

He thinks about destroying the entire apartment complex. He could now– he knows what’s coming. He won’t be staying here any longer. He has plans, so many plans.

You come back to him a week later, though. You’re bound to him in some way, returning again and again when you know you shouldn’t.

The make-up part is nice, with him buried so deep inside you that he’s trying to turn your stomach. Make you sick with him, the way he is with you. Your gasping moans, with the arch of your body far too pretty for hands like his.

And still, you lay on his chest afterwards, you let him run his fingers over the planes of your shoulders, the line of your pretty neck. He drags his knuckles against your soft skin, enamored with the feeling, with the way you soothe the haunting, sunken part of him. His Quirk submits to yours easily, dimmed inside of him. Maybe he should be frightened of your new potential.

But you’ve never been frightened of him, so he’s not of you, either.

You’re very bold, though, he thinks, for you to say, “Your parents were cruel.” After the argument you both had last time.

He tenses beneath you, grits his teeth. He’d thought you’d both learned your lesson, getting too personal in a place as sacred as here.

“You don’t know anything,” he says and it’s just a breath. Surprisingly toothless. He’d said it to you last time, in your argument. You’d said it to him before that. It feels almost ironic now.

You shake your head against his chest, your nose nudging into him, lips soft against his skin. You remain calm. “I know your name is Tomura. They were very cruel to give you that name.”

You say this as if it’s a fact, something as simple as the sky being blue. But it’s dark out now and the stars are dull, the moon just a scythe in the sky, caught in the window’s glare.

“What?” he demands quietly.

At least you have the guts to tilt your head up to find his eyes now. You look up at him through dark lashes.

“Your name–” you say again, gentle, “It means ‘to mourn.’ I don’t know why anyone would give their child such a sad name.”

He knows what his name means.

But this takes him by surprise, for some reason. Only because it’s not the name his parents gave him. You don’t know that, though. You don’t know anything about him, technically. He has the urge to tell you suddenly, that’s not my name.

He doesn’t, though. He stays silent. It’s his name now. And he likes the way you say it, the syllabus softened by whatever it is you feel for him.

(He won’t give it a name, he’s realizing now that names can be very powerful.)

Your fingers are gentle on him, rubbing strange patterns against a scar near his collar bone.

You have rendered him silent.

And eventually, as you begin to drift off to sleep, you murmur, “You were just a kid, you know?”

He doesn’t really know what you’re getting at, only that it does something strange to the tempo of his heart. He swallows hard, tries to keep his fingers gentle on you. Your breathing has slowed, the rise and fall of your back measured and even, but his has gotten tight.

He squeezes you against him, glaring at nothing, at darkness.

You were just a kid, you know?

It’s this part of you, the one that sees the human in him, that makes him think maybe you will be at his side until the bitter end of it all. Your compassion, the sympathy you have for the child he was, for the person he somehow became. Your unending ability to understand the worst of people.

He doesn’t dwell on the child he was, just has buried it in the cemetery of his chest– a part of him that only you have been able to reach through Quirk, through something too massive to name. You’ve soothed it, put it to rest like the dead, lit your incense in the spaces of his heart. Said your prayers along the notches of his ribs. Tried to appease that restless spirit that possesses him.

He doesn’t know why, but he starts to shake. He can hardly breathe.

And in the dark, when he thinks you’re asleep, and his secrets will be lost to your dreams, he admits for the first time in years what has always trembled inside him. He speaks the tragedy that has made a home of his body, the mourning that he was given name to;

“I wanted to be a hero– when I was a kid.”

***

Tomura thinks, for a moment, when you’re splattered in blood, that this will be your great turning point.

Your fall, the tearing and burning of your wings from your holy back. It will hurt, but he will be there on the ground with you, a hand extended to guide you. He will be there to cradle you into his chest, to hold you close when your world falls apart.

The way All For One was there for him.

The beginning of the end starts with you being a hero.

But you save the wrong person.

Toga’s been following him around as she does every so often, dogging in his shadow, skipping along beside him. You’ve become accustomed to her, too. She likes having you around. Something about not being the only girl. You’re kind to her in the same way he thinks you probably wanted kindness at her age.

The sky is mottled purple, bruised as the day sets into night. The sun looks like an open wound, violent and red.

When he thinks about it, he figures he should’ve been more careful, but then there’s a petty villain Tomura knows vaguely, someone they’ve clashed with before, who he’s pretty sure Dabi and Toga pissed off. He spots Toga first. Your back is turned to him.

“Uh oh,” Toga says, peering over your shoulder.

Tomura grabs your wrist, “Hide,” he hisses, and when you try to peer over your shoulder at what Toga is looking at, he forces you back around so the villain doesn’t see your face.

He doesn’t know why he saves you like that. Only that he doesn’t want you to get in trouble, doesn’t want you taken from him like that. He is not an idiot; if the villain recognizes you, if it somehow got around that you were seen with two of the most notorious villains, the Hero Commission would eat you alive.

And here’s the part that really gets him. You listen to him. You trust him.

You dart away, swift and fast like a fox, disappearing into the shadows the way you were trained to.

“Hey!” the villain shouts and he’s large, Tomura remembers now.

Stupid, too, he thinks, as he barrels towards them.

The glint of Toga’s knife in the sun makes him pause.

Better to not engage, Tomura thinks, not yet, not now. Too much on the horizon for something foolish to happen tonight. The apartment isn’t far from here. He hopes you’ll retreat there. He just needs to get Toga away safely now.

“Oh, I’ve missed fighting!” she sings.

“No,” Tomura rasps, “Don’t engage. We need to go, too.”

She whines a long and drawn out, “Why?” just as the hulking mass of a person swings at her. She ducks away easily, quickly.

However, then his Quirk bursts to life and it’s far worse than what Tomura had hoped for. He doubles in size, his arms in particular growing longer, and fill out with what seems to be rushing water.

“Dammit, Toga,” he hisses, shoving her out of the way as the villain blasts a large cannon of water at her.

Tomura takes the hit hard, black coloring his vision when he hits the ground.

In truth, he thinks he is out for at least a full minute, because when he’s come to, you’re shouting at the villain. You’re tugging desperately at his massive shoulder, clawing and screaming. You’ve canceled his Quirk, but he’s still too big, even without it.

Toga is pinned beneath that arm, choking and spluttering, drenched. It actually looks like she’s choking on water. She can’t even scream, too garbled, too water-logged. She looks like a doll, she looks horribly small. Her face is turning a deep shade of red as she struggles for breath. Her little hands claw at his wrist, too.

Tomura tries to stand, his vision swimming, swaying so bad that for a minute everything goes sideways.

Fuck, he curses, just as he watches you get tossed away by that villain’s other hand like you’re nothing. His Quirk suddenly ripples back to life and he blasts Toga with another bout of water, plastering her to the gravel, the onslaught of it unending.

You’re up in an instant, throwing yourself onto his neck, trying to wrench him off. His Quirk disengages again, and Toga heaves and gasps for breath, coughing up large amounts of water.

“You’re going to kill her!” Tomura finally can catch onto what you’re saying, what you’re desperately screaming. His ears ring.

You get thrown off again. More water. Toga is being blasted so hard that she can’t even choke or struggle.

Tomura thinks you’re trying to rationalize with them, you’re trying to explain you’re a hero. And to disengage. Stop, please stop, please stop–

He’s not listening, though, of course.

And he’s too big. You tried knocking him out, tried putting him to sleep with the grip of your elbow. You’re trying everything, even to crush his Quirk beneath yours. Tomura catches the flutters of pink, your inability to summon your destruction when you need it.

It wouldn’t matter anyways, not with how big he is. You struggle against powerhouses.

Tomura stumbles.

But you’ve always been gritty and sharp and determined, if nothing else. You have always fought so desperately for your life, never mind law or honor or glory.

He thinks he catches the glint of your knife, the desperate threat to let her go, leave her alone!

The villain grabs you with a massive hand around the throat, lifts you clear off the ground.

Toga has gone slack against the pavement in a puddle of water, face colored a strange shade of red and blue. A little like the way the sky blurs before his eyes.

You kick and thrash, a horrible growl wretched from your throat. You don’t think, just lash out.

And then there is blood. So much blood. It’s all over Toga now, seeping into the water– did she cut him? She managed to cut his throat? Because that’s where the blood is pouring out of–

Tomura sways.

You’re dropped.

You stumble away.

Your blade– the one you used to threaten him with, is bloody.

“Fuck!” you shout, raw and so sudden that it jars him a little. He forces himself over to the scene. So much blood. His stomach rolls.

He looks at you, your shell-shocked face. You’re looking at the knife, at the blood. At Toga, who's still not moving.

He goes to her first, tries to shake her a little, fingers held away from her shoulders carefully. For a moment, she doesn’t respond, limp and lifeless and something inside of him threatens to overwhelm him. No, no–

Her eyes flutter, though, and she wheezes for a breath, suddenly turning over to vomit up far too much water.

“I-Is she-?” your voice, so small and lost, cuts through his thoughts.

He looks at you again, blood splattered and terror caught in your eyes. Pale and slack faced and half-mad. You look like a ghost, standing there in the aftermath, in your gruesomeness.

“She’s fine,” he says, just as she wretches up more water, “You saved her.”

Toga falls limp again. He checks frantically for a pulse at her wrist with two careful fingers. Still there. She needs a doctor, though. He stands to face you.

You make a noise, high pitched, trembling. You cover your mouth to keep it in, it’s something like a sob, an animalistic noise.

“I didn’t mean to– I didn’t, I didn’t– she was just–” you’re trying to get out, almost doubled over now.

Tomura doesn’t bother to check if you killed the villain. He knows the dead when he sees it. And he won’t lie to you now, he won’t soften this blow or shield you from it.

But he also knows what he needs to do.

You keel over, about to scream more and– no, that won’t do you any good.

He grabs for you, hauls you back up and you’re shaking so hard that he fears you’re going to split apart. You’re about to lose it.

“Listen to me,” Tomura hisses and you choke on a cry. He shakes you a little, tries to force you to look at him and not the body behind him. Your eyes, feverish pink, meet the wildfire of his, “Listen to me.”

“I– I don’t–”

“Sshh,” Tomura hisses, palm going to your cheek, a little too rough, forcing you to look at only him. “Sshh, listen.”

You try to swallow and he continues, “You’re going to call reinforcements. You’re going to tell them there’s a villain down.”

“W-what?! I’m going to– they’re going to–”

He shakes you again, harder, your teeth click together with the force of it. He needs you to understand this– needs you to hear this if he wants to keep you safe and out of jail.

“Tell them I decayed him. And before that, tell them Toga cut him, and it splattered onto you. Say you heard commotion and like the good hero you are, you ran to help.”

“Tomura–” you sob.

“Do you understand me?” he snaps instead, grabbing you harder, his fingers curling against your cheek to press desperately into you. “Answer me!”

“Yes–” you gasp, wide-eyed and terrified. “Yes!”

“Good,” he hushes, wiping blood from your cheek, “Good. You saved her,” he tells you, “You saved her, do you understand?”

You nod, jerky, and he continues, hand petting your cheek, messily pushing your hair from your face, “You did everything right.”

Your breathing is still labored, but you’re quieting with the praise. When he thinks you can handle it, he breathes, “Now, are you ready? I’m going to decay him and the knife, then I’m going to leave with Toga. You’re going to call for help.”

You glance at the villain, lying lifeless, in his own pool of blood and Tomura ducks his head to force you to look at him. “Okay?” he asks, “Answer me.”

“Okay,” you exhale slowly.

“Good,” he murmurs, “Good. Now give me the knife.”

You press it, trembling, into his hands. It’s slick with blood. He forces himself to stay calm for you.

He steps away, let’s go of you. The knife turns to dust.

“Look away,” he commands then, his voice a rasp.

And you– you listen to him. You trust him. You turn away. He sets his hands on the villain. And just like that, his body breaks down, gore at first, until it is nothing but dust. It blows away easily.

And then he goes to Toga and he lifts her carefully. She’s like a ragdoll in his arms, soaked and cold. He’s certain to keep his hands away from her, fingers lifted away, but she lolls into his chest.

When you turn around, Tomura says, “Thank you for saving her.” And he means it.

You swallow hard. You look to where the villain was. He’s gone now.

“Now call your heroes, just like I said.”

You nod, eyes filling up with tears. That’s fine. They’ll have more sympathy for you, for what you’ve witnessed. They’ll believe you more. Your mentor will protect you, with those tears in your eyes.

Tomura’s eyes burn crimson as you pull out your phone, “Do what I said and you’ll be okay.”

And you do, just like that. You lift the phone to your ear. That semblance of calm that he had coaxed you into shatters the moment someone picks up on the other end.

Your voice goes high, near hysterical, “T-There’s a villain down–”

He turns away from you as you stutter and cry into the phone about what happened. You give them the lie he told you to feed them. You make Tomura out to be the villain, you make yourself out to be innocent. He holds Toga close to him.

He tries not to smile, a dizzy slip of a thing, as you do exactly as he told you to– as you lie and lie and lie through your teeth.

Toga stirs in his arms. Police sirens are heard in the distance. An ambulance for a pile of dust. The sun sets, darkness blanketing the world, shielding it from the light.

And as he stalks away, with Toga alive and in his arms, he thinks maybe he’ll make a villain of you yet.

***

The police believe you. It’s hard not to, when there is so little evidence otherwise. Tomura destroyed it all for you. It’s hard not to believe you, when you’re crying and terrified, as you should be for witnessing the death of another person at the hands of Himiko Toga and Shigaraki Tomura.

Shouta, however, is not as easily convinced.

Not after so many strange occurrences with Tomura.

When he brings you back to his apartment, when the door is shut tight, and you still stand in bloodied clothes with your teeth chattering, Shouta eyes you warily.

You want to shower, burn yourself beneath the spray of water, like you could wash away what you’d done. You squeeze your eyes shut.

You saved her.

You swallow down the lump in your throat.

“What really happened?” Shouta asks, almost tentatively, standing in the middle of his living room.

You turn and you don’t– you don’t know how you should react. Should you be offended that he’d doubt you? React in outrage after all that’s happened? Should you act confused? Play dumb?

You can’t stomach any of it. Not when someone’s dead at your hands. But someone is alive because of them, too.

Your eyes well up with fresh tears.

“I-I told you.” you choke out.

Shouta’s jaw ticks. He draws in a slow breath, “Something isn’t adding up. You have had more contact with Shigaraki Tomura than anyone has been able to have.”

Your stomach drops. Your tears fall harder.

“What’s going on?” he asks and the distance between you two feels massive. It feels continental in the small space of his living room. He seems suspicious.

The lie comes out on a sob, “I–I think he’s been stalking me.”

“What?” Shouta asks and any uncertainty he has in you evaporates as he watches your face crumple.

You let your guilt overwhelm you into choking on another cry, cover your mouth as if you could catch it in the palm of your hand. Shouta doesn’t know the truth of it, so he believes it.

He crosses that distance like it’s nothing now. He stands tall in front of you, reaches to try and brush tears away from your cheek.

“I don’t know–” you gasp, filling out your lie, “I think he's interested in me because of my Quirk. Because he can’t– I can’t decay, when he touches me.”

Shouta tips your face up towards his but you can’t look him in the eyes, let your eyes squeeze shut when he asks, “Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

“I don’t know–” you choke out, “I wasn’t sure.”

“Did something else happen?” Shouta prods gently and you grit your teeth to keep back another sob. More tears cut tracks down your face, right into Shouta’s waiting, gentle hands.

There is a long moment where you think of giving everything up. You think of telling Shouta everything, if only to lift the weight that has settled onto your chest. Surely, it will crush through your sternum, surely your heart will burst with it’s pressure.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper, “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

“No,” Shouta says then, gentle but firm, shaking his head, “I know it may feel like it–”

“He was going to kill her.”

This stops Shouta. He goes very, very still.

“What?” he rasps softly.

“He was drowning her– he wouldn’t stop. I tried to get him to stop and he started choking me–and she saved me by–” It’s a fabrication to save yourself. That’s not how it went! Your mind screeches, that’s not how it went– you saved her by killing–

Toga was turning blue, she didn’t help you. She didn’t save you. She was drowning. She didn’t kill him. You did.

“You saved Toga Himiko, a notorious villain, one of the most wanted–”

“He was killing her!” you hiss, “She was turning blue–”

“She’s a powerful villain, too, you should’ve tried–”

Something inside of you fractures, bursts apart the way glass does when thrown against a wall. You think there are a million, shining pieces of you now lying on the floor.

“She’s Shinsou’s age!” you snap, hoping one of your shards cuts him, suddenly half-furious through all your tears. “She’s Shinsou’s age, do you know that?!”

You break now, wrenching away from Shouta’s touch and rushing to double over the sink to dry heave again, body squeezing painfully. You threw up everything in your stomach already at the scene, when recounting the story to the police, to Shouta. You claw at your stomach, trying to stop it, to keep it all down inside of you. You curl your fingers into the divots of your ribs, try to force them to give you air, but they won’t– betrayers that they are, they squeeze and squeeze until there’s nothing of you left.

Your knees buckle, head spinning when you turn away from the sink and crumple into a heap on the floor,“She’s just a kid,” you wail desperately, “That’s all I saw when I tried– when I–”

Your head bows forward, body folded in on itself, forehead digging into the ground as you cry, “I didn’t mean for him to die, I didn’t mean it– I didn’t, I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Shouta moves again finally, drops to his knees down beside you. He cradles your skull in his large hand, pushes your head into the crook of his neck to hold you, “It’s alright,” he breathes, curling his other arm tight around you, “It’s not your fault,” he hushes, “It’s not your fault.” You sob hard into his chest, fingernails digging into him, clawing at his biceps, “Sshh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

And he holds you, buries you in the bulk of him, like he always has when you need him. Your constant, the love you never once deserved. Especially not now. Especially not here, with blood stained on your clothes, sunk to the floor with nothing but the anchor of your guilt.

He strokes your hairline, gentle, cooing softly to try and calm you.

He murmurs, his voice so deep and soft and earnest, “You’re a good hero.” When you make a strangled noise against him, he presses on, “You are. You’re compassionate. You see everyone’s humanity and that’s a good thing.”

He hushes more of your cries, fingers gentle in your hair, and you try not to throw up again when he tells you;

“You’re a good hero, I promise. I promise.”

The beginning of the end starts with you being a hero for a villain.

***

The next time you see Tomura, he questions you about what happened, if you pulled it off. You tell him you managed it, somehow. You don’t tell him anything else. You don’t tell him you haven’t been sleeping, that you can hardly keep food down. You don’t tell him that you take too many showers, trying to wash away the phantom blood.

You remember when it was Tomura’s blood on you, so long ago. A beginning that now seems so hazy. You hadn’t minded blood, then. You had never been particularly squeamish but now–

Now it could make you sick on your best days, downright hysterical on your worst.

Your guilt tears chunks out of you, bites down and shakes the meaty, soft parts of you until you’re all torn up.

It is easier to be with Tomura than Shouta now.

We have more in common, you think, and it makes you want to laugh, empty and wobbly.

You look in mirrors and hardly recognize yourself, wonder if this is really your body. If this is really your life, or if it’s someone else’s. Maybe you are possessed, maybe that explains how you got here.

You don’t tell him any of this. You stay silent.

And that’s okay because Tomura seems strangely quiet after that, pulling you to lay on his chest. He doesn’t let you put the TV on. You can tell he needs to think. You let your eyes drift close as he runs his fingers through your hair with a surprising amount of gentleness, compared to his usual petting.

But eventually he says, so soft that you fear you almost imagined it, “A yakuza head visited the League recently.”

Your eyes flutter open and in your surprise, you sit up a little, looking down at him. “Tomura–” you start, almost a warning.

He knows he isn’t supposed to talk like this here, in this little slice of another world.

But he continues anyways, his voice just a rough scratch, “He killed Magne.” And then, “And Compress no longer has an arm.”

Now you really pull away to look at him. You can feel your eyes widen out, your shock, then the stomach-turning sadness. His face is unreadable, but his jaw is tight. His eyes are simmering, so red, even in the low light like this.

“It was a set up.” he hisses, “I failed them.”

He doesn’t cry, but you can feel the slightest tremble in his body.

You hurt for him, you realize, your heart falling into the pit of your stomach. Those are two of his closest, some of his inner circle.

He looks shaken.

He looks young, with the weight of his world on his shoulders, with the crown of thorns placed on his head. Heir to a monstrous throne. All For One’s successor, boy prince to inherit an underground empire.

You just see him, though, just Tomura who's twenty, who likes sour candy and video games.

He swallows hard. He looks angry and hurt.

“Nobody mourns us,” he says eventually, looking away from you, somewhere in the darkness of the apartment.

Except you, you want to say, with a name like Tomura.

You lurch forward, throwing your arms around his neck, hugging him tight to you. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, soft, the way Shouta speaks to you, “I’m sorry.”

And then you think, I’d mourn you, and you squeeze him tighter, I’d mourn you, oh God, I’d mourn you–

He doesn’t hug you back, but you can feel the shaky breath he exhales, and the way his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt.

***

Tomura thinks it should be you, at his side, when he takes Overhaul’s arm. You are everything Overhaul wants. Your Quirk is what he has tried to bottle.

Tomura thinks you could’ve been useful, to switch off his Quirk, to destroy it in an incredible twist of irony. It would’ve been the ultimate power move, to have you at his side by the end of all of this.

But you’re not there, no, not with him.

You’re with your heroes, Toga had told him.

It shouldn’t, but it feels like a betrayal. It stings hard and sharp inside of him, like a livid bee that jabs at his heart.

He seethes about it. Hadn’t he done everything right with you? He’d played this game slow, knew that the rewards would be worth it.

You’re still walking away from him, though. You’re still not his.

And you’ve still got one of his ribs, left a gaping wound inside of him.

He wants it back. He wants it back.

***

Eri looks up at you with watery, red eyes when you first introduce yourself to her. You crouch to be on her level. She has silver hair. She’s timid, wobbly bottom lip and flushed cheeks.

You almost start crying, looking at her now. You wonder if this is what Tomura was like as a child– small and terrified of his Quirk, round red eyes pleading with the world. All you see in her is every other forgotten child.

“Hi, Eri,” you hush, half for her, half because you’re scared your voice might break.

“H-hello,” she trembles.

You try to keep your smile in place, but it’s a weak, sad thing.

Still, you say, “I’d like to be your friend, if you’ll have me.” And you extend your hand to her, palm up and offering. “I have a Quirk like Mr. Aizawa’s.” you tell her gently, “If you touch me while using your Quirk, it’ll stop.”

She brightens at this, not smiling but, surprised, “Really?” she asks, just a breath.

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat, “Really.”

She takes your hand then, eager, tightening with her small fingers, despite her Quirk still being off.

Then she looks up into your face and offers you a tentative smile. Small, just the corner of her lips lifting up.

“I’d like to be your friend, too.” she murmurs bashfully and you close your hand around hers. It’s small, almost fragile. She’s all bandaged up, arms wrapped in gauze.

You look at Eri and her red eyes and silver hair and see a coin toss, see it up in the air, spinning and spinning, catching in the light. A twist of fate like the flip of a coin.

But you think you could call it now, with her hand in yours, and the heroes that hover protectively around her.

***

There is a morning shared in blush light that isn’t the ending but feels like it could be one. In truth, you’d prefer to remember this as the ending, more of a whimper and less of a bang. The night before had been one of your better ones, too– you’d only woken once with a nightmare. Tomura had already been awake and he’d soothed you with a careful hand that drew patterns across the bare skin of your back.

That night, that morning, was gentle in the wake of all that violence, love taken root, finally bursting through your veins to make a mess of your insides.

Dawn is too mellow a place for the two of you.

(You have come to the conclusion that Tomura looks best in dusk, saturated, sharp and rich in color. Bold and vivid. You didn’t know it, but he thought the same of you.)

You never told him you loved him.

You think about that a lot, wonder if it would’ve made a difference in anything. You wonder who was the last person to tell him that, if anyone at all.

He’s still half hoping that you’ll follow him, but you think he knows he’s losing you. You are not content in fuming misery, cannot stomach to leave the mentor that has loved and cared for you with such perseverance and softness. You cannot stomach to turn away from the boy with violet hair, or now the girl that reminds you of him.

You wish you could keep him, too, despite it all, but all you see in the future with him is rubble.

In the least, you’ve always had a sense of preservations, survivor that you are, scavenger that you are. You know when to move on, can’t linger too much longer now or you won’t live through it.

You sleep better with Tomura, though, and that’s the cruel part. You wake with less nightmares. You sleep more soundly, wound up in him, so tight that you two might just grow together. Palm to palm, your Quirk quieting his, lulled and softened.

And that morning, you wake slowly, twisting around fitfully with the warmth that has blossomed gently inside of you.

Consciousness creeps to you, fighting against the pull of sleep, being coaxed awake by the fluttering of your heart, the slow roll in your core.

Your eyes lift, heavy with sleep, finally awake. You blink blearily before a sudden, sleep soft cry escapes past your lips.

You glance down the line of your body to find Tomura nestled between your legs, tongue tracing messy patterns into where you’re most sensitive. Your stomach swoops sweetly, flares into a spark of heat.

The light is soft on him. He cracks a ruby eye open to gaze at you, to open his mouth so you can watch the flash of glistening pink as his tongue laves against you slowly.

“About time you woke up,” he gets out, voice still morning-rough, a little grating. His fingers squeeze your thigh, pulling you apart further to be at his mercy, spread open all for him.

“Tomura–” you gasp, your hands finding their way into his hair, fingers gentle and weak with sleep.

He sets his mouth to you, sucks on the bundle of nerves in a way that makes you keen, almost arching away from him. He fixes his eyes on your face, watches as your expression twists up.

You can see the way his hips are twitching into the mattress. Sometimes you think he does this more for himself than you, takes pleasure in rendering you down to your most basic, most desperate.

Pleasure coils warm, simmers on the inside of you. Your fingers flex, tighten in his hair until he groans against you. When he pulls away for another moment to admire you, his lips are spit slick, a string of translucent spit and slick bridging between the two of you.

It makes you flush darkly, makes you throw your head back and whimper.

He takes you apart with the savagery and viciousness that he has always carried. Dawn spills over the bed sheets in rays of peach and honeysuckle, lovely for the impending destruction. You shatter like glass, pretty and ringing beneath his hands.

And then he’s flipping you onto your stomach, letting you claw at your pillow as he sinks deep inside of you. He hisses when he fucks into the crux of your sweet, supple thighs. Your hair is messy with sleep. He presses his chest to your back, presses you into the mattress.

You fist at your pillow, whining at the burn and stretch, and you can feel the sickle cut of his smile against the arch of your shoulder blades. He leaves sloppy kisses, scattering them, sucking at your skin until he has claimed and marked and branded you.

He nudges his nose against your cheek until you tilt your head back to his, to rub back affectionately, nudge into him like a cat. He hums in satisfaction, in pleasure, the sound of it rumbling against your back.

You feel like he’s trying to savor this. He doesn’t pull your hair, or speed up his hips. No, he waits until you arch your back for him, until you’re near begging.

He likes you weakened, maybe delirious, maybe like he’s giving you a dose of your own medicine. He’s trying to make you as addicted as he is, but there’s no need.

No need when he covers your hand with his, slots his fingers between yours. All five of them, squeezing at your hand.

“You were made for me,” he gets out, giving you a rougher thrust, his eyes flashing to your hands, “See?” he groans, fingers digging into your wrist, your knuckles, “Made for me.”

You moan, too, all wobbly and pitched, with all the pressure, with the squeeze of his hand. With the stretch of him inside where you’re vulnerable and soft and slick.

He drags everything out that morning, fucks you both into oversensitivity, until you’re both shuddering and gasping. He breaks you down, until there are tears streaming down your face, until he’s gripping you so tightly that he’ll leave a bruise in the shape of his hand.

He fits his hand against your throat at one point and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You end where you began, with the violet petal bruise of his fingertips into your skin.

You linger in bed with him that morning, letting him pet and stroke and touch you. You stay gentle, even when he gets rough.

You make cheap, bad coffee for the both of you.

You feel twenty something with a boy and his tiny apartment. A cat chirps at the window and you’re smiling when you let him in. The breeze is cool. You don’t put on clothes because you feel like an adult, with a lover.

You feel normal for a fraction of a moment after everything that’s happened.

You feel sated and tender and saddened. Your chest fills with aching as you watch Tomura drift in and out of sleep in the sunbeams.

You were made for me, he’d said and you reach out to brush a strand of hair from his face. You were made for me.

You swallow around the lump in your throat, the one that feels like needle pricks and the hard truth. You don’t have the heart to tell him that he may need you, but you don’t need him.

You want him, though, your fingers trailing down the lines of his face, you want him so badly that it hurts. Your fingers travel over the hitch of his scars, his body as familiar as a home.

You want him, but you don’t need him, you try to tell yourself in this moment. You want him, but you don’t need him. You will survive this.

Still, it’s going to hurt. You’re bracing for impact, can feel the free fall rush up to the ground, can feel your stomach swimming up where your heart is.

You’ll survive it, you think, breathing hard, trying to keep back your tears as you look at him. But it’s going to hurt, it might tear out something very precious inside of you.

You’d rather he just break your arm again. At the thought of it, you try not to choke on the bitter, furious laugh that splits from your aching ribs.

***

You get to know Eri, try to spend more time with her and Shouta and Shinsou like you’re trying to fix something you broke. The pieces aren’t quite matching up right, though. It can’t be fixed, not really, not fully.

You can’t close your eyes without seeing that villain in a pool of their own blood. Or Toga’s face made blue. Sometimes in these dreams, it’s Shinsou who is drowning. Sometimes the villain in blood is Shouta. Tomura is always the one who saves you.

You can’t look at yourself anymore. You can’t stomach to. Your lies explode out of you when you catch a glance of yourself, haggard and exhausted and beaten down.

Shouta takes you to a hospital after your fist collides with the mirror in your bathroom. Glass shatters into hundreds of reflections of your warped and terrible image. They’re not as pretty, when the sun isn’t setting in a warehouse with a boy that you think you love.

Your hand bleeds the way that man’s necks did–

Your world spins as you lean over the bowl of the toilet to throw up your lunch. You’d made it with Eri earlier, before Shouta had gotten home from class.

Shouta finds you on the floor, sitting in all that glass, with your hand clutched tightly to your chest. He must’ve heard the commotion next door.

“What happened?” he asks, voice flooding with concern. He doesn’t hesitate to step carefully over the glass to you.

The question feels too large for you.

I did something horrible, you think, that’s what happened.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter weakly, lifting your chin from its place on your chest. “I didn’t mean to.”

(That isn’t true and you know it.

(But you’re always trying to prove you’re good. Especially now. Especially to Shouta– trying to prove you’re worthy of his love.

You suddenly crave Tomura. You didn’t have to prove anything to him.)

Shouta lifts you carefully, cradles you to his body to carry you out to his car to bring you to the hospital. He treats you like you’re fragile, made of glass yourself. “What’s going on with you?” Shouta murmurs gently, but there's almost a plea in it, concern that is so transparent it hurts, “You’re scaring me– I’m worried about you.” he confesses, almost desperate, “You know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

The laugh that sputters out of you is hollow, a grating noise that gets choked off. Shouta looks at you warily, uncertain and fearful.

The hospital keeps you for three days. Eri asks Shouta about you, apparently. She misses you. Shinsou helps her decorate a card for you.

Get well soon! Is written in her poor handwriting with far too many colors, and in Shinsou’s messy scrawl at the bottom;

Miss getting my ass kicked by you.

The doctors tell Shouta you’re struggling with a lot of survivor’s guilt and you have to fight back another absurd, off-kilter laugh.

Part of you thinks you’d be better off with Tomura at this point (your coin uncertain, hanging suspended in the air), if only to relieve you of this guilt, when Shouta tends to you and cares for you and loves you so steadfastly that it makes you feel rotten and horrible and monstrous. He has no idea who he’s loving. And you don’t deserve any of it–

But you think of Eri and the way she clings to your sleeves. And how you and Shinsou share granola bars during training.

And mostly, you are terrified to be without them.

None of it’s the same, though, and you think it’ll eat away at you until you’re nothing at all but the empty lies you kept feeding them.

You want to be better, you realize, when Eri draws you in pictures, holding her hand. You want to be better, you realize, for kids like you, like her–

(Like Tomura–)

So you decide one night, with your hand still bandaged, with Eri sleeping peacefully on the couch in the crux of your arms, and Shouta at the opposite end of the couch, that you will stay with them. The easy thing to do would be to leave, to not look back. But you have always been nothing if not determined, if not a fighter.

You will become who they want you to be, who they believe you to be, even if it tears you apart from the inside out.

Which means giving up Tomura, which feels like giving up a rib.

***

You had hoped you’d be able to slip away from Tomura and leave your secrets in a rundown apartment in a part of the city you grew up in. You had hoped that you could get away unscathed, without Shouta ever knowing more.

But Dabi mentions you to Hawks.

Offhand. Something about another traitor hero. Something about Shigaraki’s bitch.

Tomura also mentions Hawks to you.

And here is your trouble, what you were hoping to avoid by never allowing him to speak about his plans; you now know that the Number Two Pro-Hero is a traitor. However, the only reason you know that, is because of your secret relationship with the leader of the League of Villains that you have been slowly, painstakingly trying to sever yourself from.

(It doesn’t help that he’s latched on tighter–)

So, if you go to Shouta to warn him that the Number Two Pro-Hero is a traitor, you have to also conveniently come forward with your own truth. And what if he thinks you’re a traitor, too?

Surely, it looks that way.

Truthfully, you might as well be– you killed someone.

You killed someone.

Your stomach squeezes tight.

You think of Shouta and Shinsou and Eri and the loss of their love, when you’ve been trying to earn it back.

You don’t get much time to mull this over, though, because while walking back to your own apartment at U.A., a shadowy span of wings fall over your form.

Your heart falls into the pits of you, the drop of it sharp, horrible.

You think running will make it look all the worse.

Besides, he’s fast.

You can’t decide how this will go. Maybe he’ll only want to speak with you, traitor to traitor. But then you will be confronted with the undeniable truth that you now need to share with Shouta, with the Hero Commission, for the sake of people’s safety. You will have to come clean. Maybe it will be worse. Maybe he’s not after you at all, but just in your neck of the woods because–

All other thoughts are cut short when he lands in front of you.

You try to think of a proper reaction. Should you be expecting him? On guard? Should you act surprised?

His wings flare and you realize quickly how massive they are. They throw you into their towering shadow, make you feel like a mouse.

His eyes glint when he pushes up his visor, the gold of them sharp, his pupils a pinprick. The eyes of a predator.

You try not to cower. You stand your ground, lift your lips a little like you might bare teeth in warning, your hackles raising. Backed into the corner, you feel half wild, too.

But Hawks beats you to any form of a greeting, his smile a menacing twist of his lips, like he’s trying to be pleasant but he wants you to see all of those sharp, white teeth of his. You think he doesn’t look like much of a hero in this darkness, with the way his wings look thorny and maroon. His voice is barbed wire, the drawl of it stinging.

You know you’re in deep trouble now;

“You and I need to have a little talk.”

***

You are kept in a steel room that the Hero Commission tells you is not a holding cell, but you definitely think is a holding cell.

Your mind has not slowed since you got here.

You scramble for a story to tell– for lies to sew.

Hawks is not a traitor. Not to the heroes’ at least. He is a traitor to the villains and you know, logically, that this is for the greater good, but something about it bothers you. Villains aren’t people to the Hero Commission. You feel strangely protective of Tomura’s league of outcasts, even if you know you shouldn’t.

But they’re young, with feelings and thoughts and lives and pasts.

Nobody ever mourns us.

No, they don’t, you think, trying to keep away bitter tears from springing to your eyes. They don’t bother trying to see the big picture, they don’t bother to try and figure out why villains are on the rise.

They can’t stomach the idea that maybe their precious hero system has given birth to their villains.

Or maybe they can and they just don’t care.

They need heroes for their charts and money and power, don’t they? So they need villains. A never ending cycle, forever going around on this carousel. You’re dizzy with it, you’re sick of it, caught up in it’s riptide.

You don’t look at Tomura Shigaraki and see the most dangerous, wanted criminal in the country. You see a twenty-year-old pawn, a chip in a bigger game. You see someone as starving and desperate as you were.

You see a coin flip.

(You see the person you fell in love with–)

Shouta enters silently and the moment you see him, you have to try to keep from bursting into tears. Your lip wobbles.

He approaches slowly, cooly, but when he gets near you, his eyes are livid and searching your face, like maybe he could finally find the lies you’d kept buried so deep inside of you. They’ve finally blossomed, you think, all of them sprouting from your body, creeping through your lungs and up your throat to choke you out.

“Tell me the truth finally.” Shouta says, sharp and icy. He speaks like he’s speaking to a criminal, “Now.”

You suck in a shaky breath, try not to flinch when he leans across the metal table and snarls, “And if you are a traitor, at least have the decency to tell me now, before they come in here and interrogate both of us.”

Tears catch in your lashes.

Through the throbbing of your head, you realize you have jeopardized Shouta in the way you never wanted.

“I’m not a traitor.” you get out, voice quiet but firm, barely above a whisper.

“No?” Shouta clips and you can see it now, the hurt in his eyes. He feels betrayed, deeply so, and you can’t even blame him. “Hawks says differently. Says you’ve been working with Shigaraki.”

You rub furiously at your cheek to try and keep the tears from falling, shaking your head quickly, “No–”

“Then what happened?” he snaps and through the blur of your own tears, you catch the way his own eyes glisten.

“I didn’t tell you everything, when I said I thought Shigaraki was stalking me.” you say, having readied this lie the moment that Hawks brought you to the Hero Commission’s doors. You give them the story they want to hear of you, not the one where you fell in love, but the one where you jeopardize yourself for them. You are careful to peer up at him through damp lashes, “I–I got close to him, because he let me, because he was interested in me.”

Shouta goes very, very still. All you can see is his chest rising and falling, quick, as he slowly begins to walk the path you’re leading him down.

“And I thought he might tell me his plans, I thought that I could help–”

“No,” Shouta says in disbelief as it all begins to connect, leaning away from you in shock, “Please tell me you didn’t–”

You lurch towards him slightly, naturally, your hands coming up to the table like you’re reaching for him. “I wanted to prove I could do this–” you choke out, voice breaking, “I wanted to prove I could do undercover work like you wanted– like they wanted!”

“What were you thinking?” he hisses in return.

“You never would’ve let me do this!” you snap, almost plead with him, and it must strike true because he looks away from you momentarily, “I-I saw an opening so I tried to take it– I was perfect for it. Shigaraki was interested in me. I used to be a thief. I would’ve fit in.”

The moment you say it, you realize how true it rings. It startles you, maybe, with how close you were. Almost, but didn’t, your coin doing an extra rotation in air. And why didn’t you? Why not be with Tomura now? Why not be where you fit in most? Where hero society wanted and expected you to be?

“I’m not a traitor,” you cry, tears tracking down your cheeks freely now– you think you’re trying to convince yourself as much as Shouta now, “I promise I’m not a traitor– I couldn’t do that to you. O-or Shinsou. Or Eri–”

And there is your reason. The truth to disguise your lies. You look at him, across from you, his face almost unreadable, with his furrowed brows and tense jaw. His eyes shine, though, gleam with unshed tears as he listens to you. The man who gave you everything, who has cared for you since the moment he found you– perhaps the sole reason your coin has flipped in their favor. All because he did more than what was asked of him, because maybe he just saw someone starving, too, like the way you did with Tomura.

Believe me, you plead, believe this.

There is a long stretch of silence after that, where all you can get in is hiccuping breaths.

Finally, Shouta asks, “Did you find anything out about him? Or the League of Villains?”

You exhale hard with relief, your shoulders finally falling. You collapse somewhat, exhausted, folding in on yourself.

You hang your head, then shake it slowly, “No,” you sniffle, wipe at your drippy nose, “He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t trust me.”

Shouta eyes you warily.

“So that’s why you encountered him so much. That’s why you were there with Toga Himiko when–” Shouta cuts himself off when he sees your wince, the shuddering of your features at the mention of that incident. But he finally put all of the pieces together. All the pieces you’ve given him, at least.

You nod, stray tears falling quick, dripping off your chin, “I’m sorry for lying,” you get out, “I hated it— I hated lying to you.”

Truth.

Shouta throws you a hard look, “You shouldn’t have. It was dangerous and irresponsible. And now look at what you’ve done–”

Your stomach knots up tightly.

“I thought I could handle it.” You breathe and there is another truth, sprinkled throughout your lies.

But you were so horribly wrong–

Shouta is about to open his mouth again, but the door swings open and a man in a suit enters slowly. His gaze is cool as it falls on you and Shouta. You know this isn’t the end of your conversation with him, you know he wants to know more. But now, he focuses on the higher up that encourages him to sit, too.

He says, because Shouta has been such an upstanding hero and teacher, they are allowing him the courtesy of explaining everything now.

And then you watch as Shouta opens his mouth and lies and lies and lies for you.

He tells them that it was his idea to allow you to get close to Shigaraki. He knew, every step of the way. He tells them he bypassed speaking with a committee at the Hero Commission’s because it would’ve taken too much time. He says that they needed to act quickly and accordingly.

He takes the brunt of it, saves you from far more trouble. He’s a trusted hero. You’re an ex-thief in the eyes of the Hero Commission with a too-big Quirk. They won’t believe you and truthfully, if they did more digging, if they pried more, there is a chance that the truth might leak out of you, open like a wound.

Shouta protects you, the way he always has. You don’t deserve it and you can feel your heart tearing itself to shreds.

You know you can’t go back to Tomura, not after all this.

You watch Shouta lie for you, speak for you, get you out of the grave you have dug yourself. For the second time in your life, Shouta saves you. You try to hold back more tears, you try to hold back from throwing yourself onto him, clinging to him.

And finally, they ask, “Did you learn anything, then? About Shigaraki Tomura?”

He likes sour candy. He has trouble sleeping. He drinks too many energy drinks. There is a scar at the corner of his lip. He has a beauty mark on his chin. He is desperate and starved of love. He let’s a kitten sleep in the sunlight of his apartment. He tries to take care of the League to the best of his ability– he cares about them more than he will admit. He is not heartless. His hands are often cold but seeking, longing for what he can’t have.

Your eyes well up with tears but you take a slow, steadying breath. They don’t want those pieces of him, the human, messy ones. No, they want to know how evil he is, how diabolical his next plan is going to be. But you don’t know any of that, just that he holds you as if he never wants to let you go when you fall asleep at night.

So you’re not lying when you say;

“I don’t know anything about Shigaraki Tomura.”

Only that he wanted to be a hero– when he was a kid.

***

The days following are the worst between you and Shouta.

He doesn’t trust you anymore. You can’t fight him. You have nothing to say, which is perhaps worse than if you tried to fight with him.

There’s no defending you, especially if Shouta even knew half of the truth. He barely speaks with you some days.

He wedges the distance between you two wide, forces it apart further.

He does not comfort you, he does not hold you when you cry this time. He’s not there with soothing, hushed words or the gentle touch of his hand to your cheek.

A piece of his trust is broken, now so severely that it’s just a jagged edge, something you don’t think can ever be soothed.

(And you’re right, in some way– there’s a deep shift in your relationship with him, changed and scarred. It never returns to what you once had, when your life was very simple and all you knew was him.)

He doesn’t ever say, I forgive you. I will trust you again, in time.

But he eventually will make dinner for you again and you will sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder at his table with a respectable, lonesome distance between his heart and yours.

Nothing is ever the same again.

You think about running– from Shouta, from Tomura, from all of it. It would be the easiest option, where you never have to look either in the face again.

But the Hero Commission looks at Eri the same way they looked at you when they discovered you could destroy Quirks and you can’t stomach the idea of leaving her to them.

(Tomura was right in a lot of ways.

And when there’s a war on the horizon and the Hero Commission seeks to use you as a weapon, you will think of him again.

I’ll teach you, if that’s what you want, he’d said to you once. And he did.

You hate the system, the endless cycle, Prometheus chained to his rock, the need of villains to have heroes, the creation of heroes to make villains. The endless bodies, the using and discarding of real, human lives for a greater good. You wish you could destroy it.

But there is more than only destruction, too. What good is rubble and ruin and death?)

You stay so you can do what you can, so you can protect a child with red eyes, with silver hair, and a Quirk too big for their own body.

And you think maybe if you stay with her, it makes up for leaving Tomura.

***

You go to Tomura one last time, walk the distance to his apartment with your hands shoved into your pockets. It’s a familiar walk now. The pavement is wet from rain. It’s cold out. You don’t know what you’re going to tell him. You wonder how he’ll react– for a moment, you’re fearful. Will he lash out? For a moment you wonder if he’ll try to kill you.

But you know, deep down, he wouldn’t. Won’t.

And you won’t pretend you’re scared of him now. You won’t play the innocent hero, not in front of him.

The moment Tomura sees you, he knows something has changed. You are too expressive and now you look at him with a sense of foreboding. With a sadness that he feels uncomfortable gazing at.

You tell him, “I got in trouble with the Hero Commission.”

For a moment, he lets his hope grow and stretch inside of him. Maybe this is finally your turning point, your fall from grace that he will catch you on. But no, your lip wobbles and your eyes dart away.

“I can’t see you anymore,” you whisper.

At first, he wants to snap at you, hiss out something cruel between his bared teeth. Maybe if you had done this a few years ago, a few months ago, he would lash out, try to tear into his neck or you or the world. He thinks about hurting you, slamming you against a wall or–

The thought is unfortunately repulsive to him. He doesn’t want to hurt you, not like that.

His anger and resentment wells inside of him, swarms his chest viciously. He wants to argue, to point out every way your heroes have failed you. The world feels so absurdly unfair suddenly, to give him you– you who quiets his Quirk and touches him gently and winds your arms around him in the way he likes so much– only to then take you away, too. You who destroys with a touch, too. Who is perfect at his side.

But for all his work and care and strategy, he can’t get you to stay.

You will run back to your heroes.

You don’t need him, he realizes now. But you have his rib, tucked away inside of you. He wants to dig into you, pry it out, rip it from your body and take it back for himself.

But you’re crying.

And you’re pretty in the dark, like you’ve always been. This time, though, you’re not looking for a fight, there is no viciousness in you now. Maybe you’re too tired to fight.

So instead of erupting, instead of lashing out, Tomura steels himself. He’ll play the longer game, then. You don’t want to go, but you will. You’ll go back to your heroes and they will disappoint you. As they always do, at some point, eventually.

You will come back to him again, he tells himself.

And he will be forgiving, the way All For One has been with him. He sees it now; you, needing his hand, needing him to take you back. He will welcome you back into his arms, as if you hadn’t even left, and you will know then that you were right to leave.

He gazes at you, red eyes smoldering, “Then don’t.” he rasps and he’s trying to remain dispassionate, but his voice has a trembling note in it, the hidden fear underneath the harsh coolness.

Your eyes flicker back to him, your lips parting in surprise. You wipe at your eyes.

“So that’s it?”

And this makes him angry, the sharp tug of it like a dog at the end of it’s leash. He lurches forward threateningly, like he might hurt you.

(You don’t flinch. And he stops himself before he gets too close.)

“What?” he snaps, “Did you want me to beg for you to stay?”

He wants to, he realizes, he wants to howl and scream and tear apart everything in sight. He wants to say don’t go, don’t go, don’t slip from me, too.

He wants to bargain with you– what is it he can’t give you that they can?

Your heroes only love you because they don’t know you, they don’t know what you’ve done. Your heroes only love you as far as truth and justice go. A hero would sacrifice you for the greater good and you would agree with them, even if you were shaking and crying, even if you burned with all that liveliness.

But he’d sooner sacrifice the world for you.

You have his rib, he wants to scream, of course he wants to beg.

You shake your head, though, more tears falling free, “No,” you say, voice surprisingly strong, “No, I never made you beg.”

The truth of it burrows beneath his skin. He knows. The itch squirms beneath his skin. His hand reaches up, digs into the crook of his neck to scratch at it.

It’s Dabi’s voice in his head that says something about getting too distracted with this braindead hero. He has bigger plans than hiding in an abandoned apartment with you. More to do. You were nothing but a side quest.

His pause screen.

Besides, what’s there to be upset about? You’ll come back.

He won’t even punish you for leaving, he promises. He promises.

“Then that’s it.” Tomura tells you, a bitter curl to his lips.

There’s no goodbye, just the breeze between the two of you, the empty space that he always hated. The nothingness between that he always sought to destroy.

Eventually, he just turns away from you. He can’t stomach looking at you any longer. He can feel your eyes pressing into his retreating form– he imagines you rushing for him, crashing into his back to throw your arms around his middle. You can’t do it, you’ll cry, burying your face between his shoulder blades. And he’ll freeze, but eventually he’ll wrap his arms around yours and bow his head with the strength of your feelings for him.

Or he imagines later, when it’s the end of the world, and you emerge from the rubble to reach for him. It’ll be like his dreams, when the sky is falling, and you only want to hold his hand in yours.

He imagines you shouting to him, changing your mind, saying his name like it’s a song to sing, not mourning bells, not a curse or an affliction.

But none of it happens.

And when he turns around, you are gone.

You leave his life as viciously as you entered it, suddenly there, all furious and beautiful, and now gone, like a lightning strike, like a lifetime.

***

You tell yourself you’re going to be fine, but you spend random days weeping over a villain. You spend long nights awake, missing him, replaying it all in your mind. You cover all your mirrors. You try to be different. You wish you could say you regret ever getting involved with him, but it would be one more lie. You wish for the time before the worst of it, the strange honeymoon you never should’ve had.

You wish you’d remembered to slow down, to savor it all a little more. You try to remember what your first kiss was like and the shade of his eyes through the evening light of an abandoned warehouse.

You try to remember when you didn’t feel so heavy, so corrosive and lost.

It doesn’t help that you’re suspended from heroing; a choice made by both the Hero Commission and Shouta. There’s nothing for you to do some evenings.

Shouta lets you train with him and Shinsou still. Shinsou tries to cheer you up, though he doesn’t know what’s wrong with you. Still, it hurts because he’s trying. It hurts because he cares so much, even about you.

You don’t deserve it, after everything.

You take care of Eri more, too, now that she is nearly in Shouta’s care. You babysit her while he’s away. You grow close with her, fiercely protective of the young girl, careful to keep the Hero Commission at a distance from her. She settles in your lap on the couch in Shouta’s apartment most evenings, watching TV and movies, while he grades papers at the opposite end.

Sometimes she falls asleep tucked into your side. You stroke her silver hair and try to bite back tears.

She catches you, sometimes, perceptive as she is, and asks very gently, “Why are you sad?” even if a tear hasn’t slipped free yet.

And you always shake your head, trying to dispel the thought of Tomura and the parents that gave him such a tragic name as a child. You force a smile for her and you tell her something silly to distract her, “I’m not,” you promise, “I just think there’s an onion nearby.”

She wrinkles her nose at this, “No, there isn’t!” but she’s easily distracted with tickles or the promise of painting her nails or having a tea party with Shouta.

Miraculously, your relationship with Shouta begins to heal, despite your betrayal. You think he can tell something worse happened to you during your time with Tomura, you think he can tell that you’re hurting, so he ends up gentler with you. He doesn’t trust you, though, keeps you on a tight leash. He looks at you some days like he isn’t quite sure he knows you.

Nothing is the same. Part of you wants to regret it. The part of you that loves Tomura can’t stomach the idea of regretting it. Someone is dead because of you. Someone is alive because of you, too.

But Shouta doesn’t ask and you don’t tell, can’t seem to speak the words.

You can’t even say, I fell in love, can’t speak the truth because it is so horrible.

And you know what everyone would ask; who could love the likes of him?

Me, you think, vehement and grief-stricken, me, you think defiantly. Why couldn’t you? He was a child once–

Shouta lets you burrow into his chest, wraps his arms around you. He sways with you in the kitchen until you can keep back your tears, until your heart has slowed to the tempo of his. He kisses the top of your head.

And it’s Shouta who is with you, when you return from training, and open the door to your apartment to reveal a scruffy, mangy looking grey kitten that wasn’t there when you left.

Ryuji chirps happily at you, rushing to the open door.

For a moment, you’re so shocked that all you can do is stand, startled, as he rubs himself against your legs.

“Don’t tell me you found another stray–” Shouta starts, but all you get out is a small, choked noise.

And here is the impact from the fall, you think, looking at that little cat that is excitedly winding itself around your legs. You can feel the shattering of your heart, like he’d lobbed it against the wall. You wonder if it catches light the same way glass does, all stained with color and broken into shards.

You drop to the floor with the weight of it all, with the clean splitting of your heart.

The moment Ryuji climbs into your lap, a sob finally ruptures out of you.

Shouta is fast, coming down beside you, you think he’s asking what’s wrong, why you’re crying, but you’ve already gathered the kitten into your arms, cradling him to your chest as the tears come quick and furious down your cheeks.

You think maybe you should be more concerned as to how he got Ryuji here, in U.A. dorms, you should be worried about security and safety but all you’re thinking about is that little apartment that you hid from the world with him in.

No, all you’re thinking about is the way light fell through the lone window to turn him hazy and soft in your memory. You’re thinking about how he never denied you affection, so long as you gave it tenfold in turn. The drawl of his voice. The pressing of his fingers into your skin like you were a miracle.

To him, you were.

Another sob spills out of you, from somewhere deep inside you.

What a lonely life, to only be able to touch one person in certainty. You wonder who will be the next person that will lay their hands gently on a body that has known too much pain. You wonder if you will be the last person to do it.

The thought hurts, opens up a part of you that is tender and shaking and desperately furious.

When Shouta can’t figure out what’s wrong with you or why you’re crying, he gives up, and sits on the floor with you. He gathers you into his lap so your back is pressed to his chest, pushing your head beneath his chin, Ryuji still cradled in your arms.

You cry harder when Shouta tries to comfort you, when he hushes softly, so sweetly, only because you don’t think there’s anyone to comfort Tomura like this.

You think of Tomura alone, even without Ryuji and it just–

Crushes you.

You squeeze the kitten tighter to your chest as you cry and cry and cry. You let Shouta hold you against him, but there’s no comfort in the aching hollowness that is growing in the pit of your chest.

You want to scream at the world that tossed the coin.

But all that comes out is a garbled, misery struck, cry.

You never told him you loved him, never gave word to what consumed you. And you realize, sitting on the floor with a kitten in your arms, that you won’t ever be able to tell him now.

It will live and die inside of you, never spoken into existence.

And even though it’s too late and Tomura Shigaraki is readying for a battle with a giant without you at his side, you still whisper the words you never got to speak into the top of Ryuji’s head.

Your lips barely move with it, the quietest, most desperate, “I love you– I loved you.” that escapes you with a trembling breath.

Shouta doesn’t even hear the confession.

Ryuji nudges your cheek with his, though, purring softly, keeping your secret safe.

And in the least, you are able to twist into Shouta’s arms and bury your face in his chest to cry as hard as you need. There’s no distance between the two of you now, like you always wanted.

Always here when you need him, even now, when it’s not him you want.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

You mumble incoherent apologies into his shoulder, try to hide in him, like he might be able to shield you from all the hurt and ache of your first love. He doesn’t ask, but he tells you very gently, his voice like the hearth of your home, “If you ever want to talk, I’ll always be there for you.”

You keep Ryuji, clean him up, fit him with a new collar, a new life. Shouta helps you care for him.

Eri adores the kitten, hugging him to her smiling face every time she sees him. Thankfully Ryuji is even-tempered, eager for affection. Almost desperate for it.

Ryuji is like proof of another world, proof that it all happened.

Sometimes you rub between his ears and ask, “Do you miss it, too?” but all he does is peer at you inquisitively, eyes large and fixed on you.

You sleep with him, though, let the kitten curl up in your lonesome arms, hold tight to him the way you used to hold tight to Tomura.

***

In the middle of the night, your phone wakes you with its insistent chime and buzzing. You blink awake sleepily, slowly and blindly paw for your phone.

You turn the screen towards you and squint at the bright light, making out the word that flashes on it;

Unknown Caller.

You grimace, rubbing at your eyes. You debate putting your phone down, letting it ring and go to voicemail. Why should you answer for an unknown caller in the middle of the night?

And yet, something in you squirms, urges you to pick up. You have no idea who it might be— maybe someone needs your help. Is it possible it’s Shouta? Shinsou? What if it’s—

You answer finally, groggy voice slurring out, “Hello?”

You’re met with static.

“Hello?” you say again, voice hushed with sleep.

Still nothing.

Tomura sits on the other side, with the phone pressed desperately to his ear. He holds everything inside of him, barely allows himself to breathe on the other end.

He doesn’t know why he’s done this, only that he is on his way to proving himself with the League and he wishes you were still at his side.

He swallows, hears you call again, “Hello? Anyone there?”

He tightens his four-finger grip on the phone, squeezing his eyes shut at the sound of your voice, sleepy and soft in his ear, wrapping around the jagged parts of his heart.

He exhales and you must hear it because you say, “Is someone there?”

He bites back an answer, feels his lip tremble slightly.

He hears you huff, indignant little thing that you are and his lips pull into a shaky, painful smile. “I’m going to hang up now,” you say, all prickly, the way you’d get if he woke you too soon.

He used to soothe you with lips and teeth and tongue, run diligent fingers over you until you were sighing and arching into his touch. Until all your hard, vicious edges softened with the flattening of his palm on your body.

And for some reason you try, one last time into coaxing him to answer, “C’mon,” you say, almost like you know, “Nothing?”

Nothing, he wants to echo, but doesn’t.

His heart pounds an uneasy rhythm, a haunted tempo. He feels himself shaking again.

“Okay,” you exhale, slow, like you’re giving him a chance to stop you, “Goodbye.”

A beat passes, before he feels his heart lurch painfully in the hollow place of his chest at the thought of not hearing your voice again like this, so near. He doesn’t want you to go, wants to listen to you until it coaxes him to sleep.

“Wait– don’t hang up–“ Tomura hisses into the phone at the last moment, unable to decide if he wants you to hear him or not.

He gets his answer in the buzzing silence, long and drawn out, that fills his head. His heart.

And he sits there with his phone still in hand and his heart still on the line.

***

Tomura shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be watching you from afar, in the park that he thought you’d looked like a painting in. You’re beautiful.

But what does someone like him know about beauty, anyways?

The fireburst leaves are nearly gone, barely clinging to lone and stark branches. They claw up into the sky now, but the sun is shining. It’s mid-morning. You’re in the park with your mentor, with the violet haired boy he’d seen you with before, and the little girl with silver hair. The one that was in Overhaul’s care, with the devastating Quirk.

She tugs excitedly at your sleeve now and you give her your undivided attention, your face lighting up with whatever it is she tells you.

You scoop her into your arms and her echoing giggle is like wind chimes, melodic and childish and care-free.

You look happy, he thinks, with your mentor’s hand on the small of your back, looking down at you and the girl fondly. The violet-haired boy says something that makes the girl laugh, it makes you smile as you watch her.

You look back at your mentor with a look that Tomura has come to know; one that begs of attention and approval and affection. He can see the desperate glint to your eyes, hungry for his love.

He swallows around the sharp bitterness he feels. Jealousy floods him in a way he has never fully known. But it’s more than just jealousy for you and your attention, for the way you’re looking at your mentor.

No, it’s something greater, far worse.

He’s jealous of your mentor, with the easy way he gets to touch and look at you out in public. But he’s also jealous of you and your life.

He doesn’t realize it at first, but he’s begun to shake.

Because you were saved– isn’t that it? You were saved. And he wasn’t.

Maybe he’s jealous of the boy with you, too, with the possibility of his life so much brighter already. He has more of a chance than Tomura ever had.

Or maybe it’s the girl in your arms, with eyes like his, who he is most jealous of now. He has never allowed himself to ask;

Why couldn’t it be me?

But now he does and he can feel the pit in his chest grow with a livid sort of despair. Grief for a life never lived. Didn’t he deserve to be saved, too? Like the girl in your arms? Like you? Didn’t he deserve a life like this, too? What’s the difference? He wants to demand it, what’s the difference?

You were just a kid, you know?

His fingers dig into his neck. There is no one to stop him from breaking skin, for drawing blood on his own body. His chest festers, angry, like a blister. His stomach turns, his body trembling harder, like he’s a child, like he’s going to shake apart.

He looks at your smiling face, the curve of your lips, and wants you so bad it hurts. He wonders if you ever dreamt of him as a hero, the way he dreams of you as a villain. He wonders why it feels so unfair suddenly, the turning of your lives, the coming together and falling apart.

He shudders, feels the sudden lump in his throat. He tried not to mourn you, when you left him. He told himself that there was nothing to mourn; either you would be back or you weren’t worth it. He feels the pressure of tears now, though, much to his frustration. He feels his lungs burn for breath as he watches you hand the little girl off to your mentor, who props her onto his hip easily.

He watches you throw your head back and laugh, the sound of it distant, but he catches it, the outskirts of it. He used to feel that laugh against his throat, against his lips.

But now he watches you live a life he apparently never deserved.

His bottom lip trembles, a furious scowl marring his face.

He could scream or shout at a world that wouldn’t listen. The fact of it all, the helplessness of it all, burns beneath his skin like wildfire, like acid.

Tomura takes one last look at you; the expressive glimmer of your eyes, the flash of your teeth. He lingers on you, commits you to memory as if he could ever forget you. Maybe someday he will. Maybe he won’t have to, if you come back to him.

But he won’t wait on it, in an apartment that still has traces of you in it’s corners and crevices. No, he has more to do, bigger than him. Bigger than you.

Even if the horrible tempo of his heart begs differently, even if the shaking in his shoulders is an indication otherwise.

One last look of you– you’re talking, saying something with your hands. The little girl laughs again, her red eyes crinkling up happily.

Tomura turns away.

He walks a familiar path to the apartment, the wind tries to slice through his jacket, kicks up leaves and litter in shadowed alleyways.

He enters and there is no one trailing behind him, your hands twisted into the back of his hoodie, or his sleeves. It’s quiet. Empty. He surveys it once, the bed with unmade sheets. The window that let in beams of colored light, that Ryuji would sit at.

And then he sets his hands on the wall, all ten of his fingers down, the way he used to touch you.

The wall begins to decay, cracks and crumbles beneath his hands. It spreads, and spreads, and spreads like a disease filling out the body of the apartment. Dust begins to fall like early snow.

His heart squeezes painfully, his eyes suddenly flooding with pressure, with tears he tries to keep back. His head throbs, feels like it’s going to cleave apart. His ribs ache– hurt so bad it’s like he can feel the one you took from him, the gaping part of his chest.

His Quirk flares hard and hot and fast. It burns through him, floods his veins in a way that makes him cry out, suddenly shaking, suddenly pained.

He destroys the apartment, disintegrates the tiny world he created with you that existed outside of the real one. He unpauses the game. He takes apart what the world should’ve been, when he was here, with you. He sees now that a world like this cannot exist.

The peace, the ideal, the way you had understood him. Your unending compassion. It’s rare. Not enough to save the rest of them.

So he tears it all apart, pushes at his Quirk in a way he hasn’t been able to before, nudges at its strength to test it. It flares outward, eating away at the entire space, at the furniture, at the floor. Everywhere.

He seethes, blooming, finally allowing that livid and vicious thing inside of him to burst forward. It’s explosive, wrenching out of him in the form of terrible destruction.

He’ll grow into what he was supposed to–

I wanted to be a hero– when I was a kid.

The only option he ever really had, the hand extended to him a villain’s, gentle when he’d taken it.

He destroys the boy inside him, the one that was naive and hopeful and weak. He let’s that boy inside of him fall apart, split open and leaks gore before turning to dust, too. He kills the part of him that he had only ever shared with you, in the blue-dark of night, when you were lulled to sleep with just the sound of his heart.

He swallows down his anguish and his jealousy and his bitterness, keeps it safe inside him, like All For One always said to do. He’ll nourish it, let it grow, fester inside of him until the only thing it can do is explode out of him to tear the world apart, too.

When he’s standing in the rubble of the tiny world you’d made with him, the apartment complex demolished, the people inside gone, he knows what he has to do.

And he has so much work to do in order to achieve it.

He tries to forget you, to destroy your memory, too. He will not carry the weight of you around inside him.

(But in his dreams, you sit cross-legged in front of him, serene and beautiful, like a painting he knows nothing about.

In his dreams, you ask for his hands to have, and he gives you them to hold.)

[mimisempai]

My biggest fear

Summary:

A nightmare and in a moment of weakness, Greg confesses to Mycroft his greatest fear.

Notes:

Mystrade Monday #10 « I’m scared »

@mystradepromptsandscenarios Totally cheesy, but you know me by now...

On AO3

642 words - Rating G

Mycroft looked up and looked at the clock when he heard Greg's footsteps entering his office.

It was only 10pm.

Turning around, he said in an annoyed tone, "It's not that late, so why-" 

He stopped short. Greg stood before him, his hair completely disheveled and his eyes haunted.

"Gregory, what the-" 

Greg crashed into Mycroft, throwing his arms around him and pulling him toward him. Mycroft slowly wrapped his hands around Greg, and asked, perplexed, "What the hell is going on?"

When Greg broke away from the embrace to look at Mycroft, almost looking panicked, "Are you okay? Nothing happened?" 

Mycroft, even more confused, replied softly, "I'm fine. Why are you asking me that?"

Greg sighed and broke away from his embrace with Mycroft, but Mycroft held him back by keeping his arms around him. 

"I had a nightmare about you and I wanted to make sure you were here and okay." 

Mycroft couldn't help but be moved by Greg's unfeigned concern and pulled him to him until he was astride him.

Greg wrapped his arms around his neck and watched him closely as if he wanted to be sure Mycroft was okay.

Mycroft reassured him by repeating softly, "I'm fine, Greg, I promise," and then he held him close until he felt his heartbeat calm down and his breathing become regular again.

Greg whispered incomprehensible words against Mycroft's neck, who only heard the word ’scared'.

"What did you say?" asked Mycroft making Greg look up.

"I wonder what I'm going to do when you leave," Greg muttered.

"What?" Mycroft was getting more and more confused, "But I'm staying here, I'm here."

Greg, left feeling vulnerable by the nightmare he had just had, couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth, probably revealing his greatest fear.

"I mean when you leave me, because I am scared that one day you will realize that you can have anyone younger, better looking, smarter than me. "

Mycroft retorted without losing his cool, "You idiot!"

"Hey, you could be nice."

"Trust me I'm being nice here, otherwise I would have given you a dressing down to make you realize the absurdity of what you are saying. You are not a consolation prize!"

Greg tried to protest but Mycroft wouldn't let him get a word in.

"Greg, I've had younger, better looking and perhaps more attractive men and women in my life, but none of them come close to you, let it be here..." Mycroft pointed to his head, "or there" then pointed to his heart.

Seeing that Greg was overcome with emotion, Mycroft took his head between his hands.

"You are not in a state to fully realize what I am about to tell you, but I will tell you again when you are in full possession of your senses and not controlled by your nightmare memory. I love you Greg. You are my love, my peace, my life, you are my soft place to fall, in you I see our happily ever after. Because of you I laugh, I smile and I dare to dream more than I ever did. There is no one better for me than you."

He wiped a single tear rolling down Greg's cheek with his thumb and kissed him on the forehead, then simply remained silent as he held him in his arms.

Greg wanted to say a lot of things, but fatigue made it hard for him to sort through his thoughts.

Mycroft's hands were making hypnotic circles on Greg's back and he saw that Greg was trying to fight off sleep, not wanting to lose anything from this moment.

Mycroft told him softly, "Come on, let's go to bed my love, afterwards everything will seem easier, I'll be here when you wake up."

"You promise?" Greg couldn't help but ask.

Mycroft simply replied, "I promise."

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade masterlist here

[hajimesh]

𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁

⥅ eren jaeger / 1.8k words

warnings. manga spoilers, fluff and angst, gender neutral reader

a/n. my entry for anilysium's collab, don't forget to check the masterlist !! thank u sm temi for the beta ♡ @thefairywalker

hope is what makes someone hold onto a promise. and that hope it's worse than the broken promise itself.

—

845.

an autumn-like breeze cooled down the summer afternoon, and with the sky barren of any clouds, it was easier for the sun rays to land on those familiar blond strands.

"over there!"

eren's small hand—even though it was big enough to cover yours—wrapped around your wrist before it tugged you through the crowd. your rapid breaths were all you could hear while you mentally prayed to make it on time, just a couple more steps and you would be within reach, already staring at armin’s frightened face which caused your heart to jump. but what finally managed to send you in a state of despair was the sight of eren shoving the bigger kid away.

“what do you think you’re doing, yeager?!”

“are you hurt?” tears gathered at the corners of your eyes while you helped armin up on his feet, you didn’t have to turn around to know eren had received a punch, his pained wail making you flinch.

armin took your hand and together faced the scene before your eyes, holding onto each other's hands while tears dampened your cheeks.

“leave him alone!” the tremble in your voice was obvious, even after multiple fights with those kids it always ended up the same way. armin and you crying in fear for eren and mikasa's safety.

only this time mikasa was nowhere to be seen.

“shut up!” 

“don’t talk to them like that!” with a kick on the shin, eren managed to keep the bully out of commission for a few seconds. but that was enough for your saviour to arrive.

“leave before i call the garrison.”

relief began to relax your tense stance, you all knew that it wasn’t the moment to be wasting their time in a kid’s fight, the shortage of food seemed to worsen each day and keeping the people on a tight leash became harder as the days went by.

the kid seemed to finally realize he wouldn't win this time, so with a scoff he took a couple of steps back, "this isn't over," his annoyed gaze traveled from eren to you, "and try not to piss your pants next time."

the three of you watched him run away while the rush of adrenaline began to wear out on your bodies and gave in to the tiredness. had mikasa not intervened, the outcome would've been way worse.

"hey," eren was the first one to break the silence, turning towards you and landing a hand on your shoulder. unfortunately, the softness in his voice was your catalyst and soon you allowed the distress to overcome you, "oh no, don't cry!"

it was useless to try to get your tears to stop, falling one after another as your chest racked with broken sobs, "i-i'm sorry i couldn't be o-of help!"

armin watched in worry as eren tried and failed to get you to calm down. he could tell you were scared when you confronted the bully, your hold on his hand so tight he feared you would end up hurting yourselves. but even so, you had pulled through your fear and stood your ground, something he admired from you.

with a tug on your shirt, mikasa signaled you to start walking, her impassive yet reassuring gaze letting you know she was there for you.

"let's go home."

—

the warm steam that blew onto your blotchy face felt soothing, the taste of mrs. yeager's freshly brewed tea successfully relaxing the tightness in your chest as it ran down your throat.

you could already feel the tiredness hitting you all at once, begging you to lie down and close your eyes so you could rest your mind after the afternoon's occurrences. but with eren's eyes observing you, you knew you weren't off the hook yet.

"better?"

not trusting your voice, you hummed and smiled behind the cup resting on your lips, sniffling slightly when a flashback of eren being punched on the face appeared on your mind.

however, he didn't seem to be done with the topic.

"why did you stand up to him if you were so scared? you were lucky he didn't go for you." 

"'cause i didn't want him to keep punching you."

"i don't need your help," his tone gave you the wrong impression. were you bothering him? a frown pulled your lips in a wobbly pout but he was quick to realize his error, "i mean, we should focus on armin, right? he's the one always in trouble."

you rocked your feet back and forth, watching them dangle from the chair as you mulled over his words. he wasn't lying, it was armin who often ended up as the victim of those bullies. at least when neither of you were around to aid him.

"i have a plan!" eren suddenly perked up, eyes brimming with excitement and pride as he obviously found his plan a good one, "dad always says that it's his duty to protect mom because they're married. so, if we get married, i can protect you and we can protect armin—together!"

you couldn't help but gasp, "married?! but we are too little!"

"not now, dummy. when we grow up!"

"what if i cry again and can't protect armin?" you voiced out your biggest worry as you pushed the cup away and made room on the table for your arm, resting your chin on top of it after yawning.

"i'll protect all of us," he didn't even hesitate, “and we have mikasa too.”

the silly promise made so much sense to your 10-year-old brain, which is why you held onto the hope and safety it gave you and agreed.

carla yeager squealed the news to her husband once eren and you had fallen asleep.

—

850.

there wasn't a day where you didn't regret not going with them.

the lively days soon became dull without eren and armin’s excited voices as they discussed the fire and icy lands in armin’s book, mikasa’s reassuring presence gone as well. but you knew you wouldn’t make it through the strenuous military training—or at least that was what you had told yourself.

truthfully, you wondered how were they not scared of continuing with their suicide mission of joining the legion, all those sacrifices just to see what was outside the walls. why couldn’t they be happy with what you already had? it wasn’t much, but you had each other, which was more than what most people could say.

with shiganshina gone, you became one of the refugees that lurked in the streets of trost. the conditions to live growing harsher, food and shelter becoming escarse and a luxury, but eren’s promise gave you enough strength to go on with your days until you landed a job as a waitress at a pub. 

you missed them, all of them.

their names flew from the mouths of the military police and other higher ups that passed by, making you wonder what they were up to. however, when news spread about eren’s abilities to shift into one of those creatures, that old sense of worry shook you to your very core.

was he hurt? mikasa wouldn't let anyone lay a finger on him, but what if they separated them?

multiple scenarios ran through your head, many of them not so pleasing and only worsening your nerves. but if their names kept coming up in the authorities’ conversations after each and every mission, then it meant they were still alive.

unfortunately, all you could do was pray for their well-being and silently beg them to return.

—

854.

after years of not hearing his voice, it took you several seconds to recognize it.

“where– where are we? why–”

“you’ve changed,” his tone was soft yet hints of curiosity sept through as he marveled at you, “you look older..." prettier, he wanted to say.

having spent so many years without the intensity of his gaze, you realized you had grown unused to it, “you’ve changed too.”

it seemed like everyone had disappeared, except for you and him. dunes of fine sand slithered under your feet and a bright light illuminated the starry sky, converging by the horizon and causing his green eyes to shine in a way you had never seen before.

“eren… what’s all this?”

one moment you were surrounded by chaos, people screaming while an army of colossal titans walked south and eren declared war against the rest of the world; and the next it all had gone quiet, a man—eren—standing next to you while holding your hand.

"they will pay, and then we will be free," his thumb rubbed the skin on the back of your hand gently.

you caught the way his gaze hardened for a second, rage clear in his features but what confused you the most was the amount of hurt swirling in his eyes.

​​what did he mean by 'they'? you were aware of marley's feelings towards the eldians but was it truly that bad? there were so many questions you wanted to ask, but something told you that you didn’t have enough time so you chose to stick to the most important ones. 

“how's mikasa? armin... is it true? he’s the colossal now?”

eren pulled you closer to him by tugging on your hand, cradling the side of your face with his free hand as a smile took over his lips.

"mikasa's busy kicking everyone's asses," he joked and you couldn't help but laugh, relieved at the sudden lightness in his voice. your eyes closed briefly when he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, licking his lips before continuing, "armin... yeah, he's the colossal. looks like i need to find another excuse to marry you, hm?” 

you found it unfair how after almost a decade, he could still hold such a power over your heart, the butterflies in your stomach feeling worse than what you recalled.

“you remember?”

he didn't miss the hope in your tone, his own heart aching at the thought of you assuming he had forgotten about your existence. there wasn't a day where he hadn't wondered about your well-being, were you safe? had a titan stole your life just like they had done with his mom? it was armin and mikasa who consoled him whenever the intrusive thoughts became too much to his already stressed mind.

“i never forgot.”

it was subtle, the way that kids promise evolved into a lifetime vow—but neither of you minded.

“i need you to promise me one more thing," he murmured, his breath fanning over your lips while your own faltered at his proximity.

“you’re leaving again,” it wasn't a question.

“i have to.”

it pained him to no end, but it had to be done. the warmth of his lips touched your forehead, your cheeks, and lips; staying longer on the latter while your hearts synchronized for a moment, sharing years worth of affection.

"stay here, on the island. find somewhere safe to stay until it all ends.”

a mere murmur on your lips, that was all it took to harm your hopeful soul.

"and don't wait for me."

[butt-watch]

Deltarune Chapter 2 Theory

DELTARUNE SPOILERS AHEAD

I'll put under a read more, but just in case it doesn't work. Here's your warning to block "#delatrune spoilers" or scroll really fast.

Spoilers for end game and bonus boss, and a long ass dump of all the ideas I have in my head before I forget them. So, sorry if I got anything wrong or it's a mess.

I've seen a lot of theories flying around, but haven't seen this one yet. (Sorry if it is already out there and I just haven't seen it, I'm sure somebody will already have put it together better than me.) This is just some funky ideas I've been throwing around, because I'll be honest here, I love the main 3 so much, and would be sad to see any of them turn out to be evil like so many theories are suggesting.

Maybe I'm just trying to be optimistic, maybe it's the weird nb kid deep inside me latching onto a kindred spirit, maybe I'm on to something.

So here's the thing. I don't believe Kris is the knight.

I know, I know, but stay with me here.

There's no denying that at the end of the chapter, Kris created a new fountain, and with it, likely a new dark world. But I'd like to argue, this is the first one they've created. My evidence is shaky, but I think there's something there that could blossom.

I'll start off with the simple fact that multiple characters who have met the knight, Spades King especially, didn't recognise Kris at all, and you would have thought they'd recognise the person who's been feeding them so much information. You do also have a couple of dialogue options with the king this time, and definitely with the Queen, so it seems strange that neither of them recognise the voice of their Knight in shining armour.

This is where stuff starts to get a bit flaky, but also, a lot more intriguing.

At the end of the chapter Kris opened a fountain, and the night before, we saw Kris remove the soul inside them and brandish their knife. Assuming that Kris spent that time without the soul creating a fountain is a fair assumption to make, and I think it's possible that was Kris's intention, perhaps they have some connection to the knight, and knew how the fountains could be opened. But, they were missing one important ingredient.

In Chapter 2 we get an explanation from the Queen about how dark fountains are created, and with it a word that has largely been missing from Deltarune.

That's right, good old Determination.

Fountains are created when a determined Lightner plunges a sharp object into the ground. And here's where the theory comes in. I believe prior to the end of chapter 2, Kris didn't have Determination. Throughout the game, they've been filled with various sources of power, from Fluffy Boys and Mean Girls, to Cat signs. But at every save point we've been missing the signature Determination.

The closest we get is at the end of Chapter 2, just before the fight against the queen, when "a certain power" is alluded to.

And that lack of Determination, would have made opening the fountain impossible for them, after all, Queen spent the whole game building Noelle's determination high enough to open a new fountain. A smidge of determination doesn't seem to cut it.

So how did Kris get the determination?

Through the good old power of Friendship. Through the trials with their new friends, Kris has gained determination, even without the soul inhabiting them. And even though that started as half a joke (only half), whilst writing this post and trying to find screencaps, for the next section, I realised it's actually more likely than I suspected.

And that brings me to everyone's new favourite:

Spamton. During his dialogue and initial boss fight he offers a deal, rewarding Kris with [[Hyperlink Blocked]] if they accept. As far as I'm aware you're forced to accept the deal. (If anyone else tolerated more than a few minutes of smashing no deal like I did and managed to get a different outcome, kudos to your perseverance.)

What is [[Hyperlink Blocked]]? Well I'm sure you can guess where I'm going with this. I believe it may well be Determination or something similar.

During the initial confrontation, Spamton refers to the players Soul as [[HeartShapedObject]].

But prior to the boss fight against Spamton NEO, he has no qualms about saying SOUL.

I've seen a lot of people theorising Spamton is being censored, and I agree that definitely seems to be the case. From a meta standpoint though I think it's interesting that the [[Hyperlink Blocked]] he mentioned so much in his first encounter doesn't seem to be mentioned at all, now the he has slightly more freedom of speech. I personally believe it's because revealing whatever Spamton was offering would have given too much away.

So how does this come back to the power of friendship? Well, upon defeating Spamton, whether through ACTing or beating the crap out of him, he realises the real treasure was the friends we made along the way.

He suggests that together, the three of them could "break their own strings"

Following the fight, there's a moment, where Susie notices that Kris is acting out of sorts. Whichever option you choose, it's obvious that Kris is shaken by the event, even going as far as to yell the answer if you let them admit how they're feeling.

The similarity to Kris's own situation, being puppeted by the player is a valid reason for the response. Whatever shook them did so with enough effect that the fear showed despite the players control. Either that, or Kris has something they didn't have, more control. More... Determination to overcome the soul.

That last part is reaching a little, which is saying something, given the amount of shaky evidence presented in this post, so I want to wrap this up mostly with something slightly unrelated, but still a Kris theory.

Why do they open the fountain?

There are a lot of theories, about being a pawn for Gaster, being an asshole, etc.

I'd like to think Kris is just a weird kid who's gotten caught up in a mess they don't really understand. They created a scenario where Susie would be forced to stay the night, and opened up a new dark world, that Susie, their friend, expressed a want for before they left the dark world.

A place where they could get away from their lives for a little while and have more adventures together. And I can understand the reasoning, opening a new fountain isn't bad, I mean, as long as they close it at the end, nobody gets hurt and they have more memories. Where's the harm in that? Right?

As much as Kris obviously wishes to be free of the soul's control, that very soul has helped them make real friends. It's taken them on adventures and well.

Somebody had to let it out before the morning.

So to summarise, the strongest power known to man is a group of lonely teenagers, if you run through a peaceful game murdering everything and then blame a video game character for the decision you made, I'll kick your ass, and I guess I'm a Kris stan now, oh god.

[fanficwritinggirl]

Thunder (Fred Weasley x reader)

You could say that thunderstorms scared you. I mean the loud bangs of the thunder and the heavy pour of the rain really caused you to panic. It just made you feel trapped. That there was nowhere you could go to get away from it that you were stuck. It sucked to say the least and it made you feel quite childish in all honesty. I mean you were 18 years old for god sakes. You should grow up and get over it right. But this was easier said than done.

It had been dull all day and you knew that it was at least going to rain. But you didn't realise that it was going to be a thunderstorm. And even though you were in the safety of the Weasley home you still were unsettled. The only thing about the Weasley home was that you didn't really get much privacy. There was always someone there and sometimes when you were in a state of panic you just wanted to be on your own. You just wanted to be able to curl up into a ball and forget that it is happening. This is purely due to the fact that you are ashamed of the fact that you are scared of thunder and don't want anyone to know this fact.

You had tried your best to stay downstairs with everyone as the storm grew outside. Everyone was just normal. They were fazed by the heavy rain outside and it made you feel stupid to be honest. The fact that everyone else was fine and you weren't. So that was when you decided that you were going to go to bed. It was a good reason for you to be left alone for the rest of the night. It also meant that you could crawl under the covers and hide from the storm.

So after saying goodnight to everyone and going to bed you try to go to sleep. Lying there for hours just trying to get some sort of sleep even if it was for a few minutes but the adrenaline in your body was not helping you. Everytime a crack of thunder came your heart beated faster and faster and you could feel tears at the brink of your eyes but they never fell. You turned over and looked towards Ginny and Hermione who were both fast asleep, something that you envied.You were sick of lying in bed so you decided that you should go downstairs and get something to drink to lower your nerves.

You sneak down stairs being as quiet as possible trying not to wake anyone up. If anyone saw you in the state that you were now you would never be able to live it down. You get into the kitchen and put some water in the kettle and warm up some water for the tea and you stand waiting for it to boil you look outside. You look at the rain and see that it is coming down very heavily. It makes your heart race again so you try to keep your head down and look at the kettle. When the water is finished boiling you put it into a mug that has a teabag in it and let it steep for a minute while you grab some milk from the fridge. After making your cup of tea you sit down at the table and drink it trying to engross yourself in it so that you can try to ignore the storm.

Though when a huge crack of lightning comes down and you can see the white from the window of where it came down you freaked. You felt unsafe again so without even really thinking you get under the table and curl into a ball rocking back and forth with heavy breathing trying to calm yourself down not being able to.

When Fred walked down to the kitchen in the middle of the night after hearing someone up he didn't really expect the scene that he saw when he walked in. The first thing he saw was the cup of tea on the table and the chair pulled back but when he lowered himself ever so slightly so that he could look to see who was under the table he was shocked to see you in the state that you were in. It broke his heart. "Y/N" he whispers as he circles the table so that he is closer to you and gets down on the floor next to you. He shuffles a bit so that he is right next to you. He could see that you were too frightened to even acknowledge that he was there. You just started on forward with your eyes wide in a trance. He didn't know what to do. Yes he had dealt with frightened people before. I mean he had younger siblings who used to get nightmares all the time but this wasn't just someone who was scared. This was someone who was petrified. "Hey Y/N. Hey, it's ok with me. You're ok. Im here" he says trying to get you to come out of the trance. Give you some comfort.

You could hear him talking to you. Feel him. But you were frozen with fear it was like you couldn't pull out of it. "Hey, I'm here. Im here" he kept saying over and over again and then you feel him wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. It was then that you could feel yourself calming down. "Listen to my heart Y/N. Listen to my heart" he says. You felt safe. The sound of his heart beating normally in rhythm calmed you down. Something you hated was when your heart started beating faster than normal making your breathing increase and you panicked thinking you could get it under control. It scared you. But the fact that Fred could keep you from thinking about your breathing and just his heart so that you would just naturally start breathing normally was comforting.

You didn't know how long you sat there for but it didn't feel that long to you if anything you just wanted it to last forever. But Fred pulls back and looks at you. He puts your hair out of your face and takes a good look at you. "How do you feel now?" he asks you. You nod your head at him. "Better" you tell him. He nods his head and you are happy with the answer. You stare at each other for a second before he speaks again.

"How long have you been scared of storms?" he asks you quietly. You knew that you were going to be asked for it. I mean of course you were. Like you couldn't just expect him to calm you down and then just not expect questions. But the thing was other times people asked you about this and this was less than a handful of times. You felt uncomfortable and just brushed it off but you felt comfortable feelling Fred.

"Umm... since I was 7 years old. Ummm... me and my family used to live in the country near some corn fields and something that I used to love to do when I was younger was to go play in them. It was pretty fun when playing hide and seek with your friends. One day it was nice and warm. Sunny. And I decided that I was going to play in the fields like I did all of the time. I must have been running around in them for an hour or so when within the course of about 15 minutes the sky went from sunny to just pure black and heavy rain was coming down. I remember trying to jump up and see where I was but it was just so dark and the rain was just coming down so hard I could see anything. I just keep trying to get home. Or to find shelter to stop the water coming down on my body. And then the thunder started and it just kept getting louder and louder. I could hear it getting closer and closer and I could go anywhere. I was in the middle of nowhere drenched. I was so cold. So cold. I was in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that didn't have sleeves and I was just so cold. I remember I was walking when all of a sudden thunder came down super close to me. Everything around me just went white and I thought that I had died. After a few seconds everything came back into view and I freaked. I ran in a random direction just hoping that it would be the right way and then I slipped and fell. I was covered in mud and I just had no energy. So I lay there until the morning. I remember waking up to the sound of dogs and voices calling my names. A dog camping running towards me and then sitting and barking its head off. The next thing I know I was in the hospital after having really bad hyperthermia and I had to stay for a few days due to me having a really bad cold. They said that I wouldn't have lasted much longer if I had stayed out any longer than I was ''I recount with tears going down my face.

Fred just pulls me closer and kisses my head. "Im sorry Y/N. I had no idea. Why didn't you say anything? '' he asked me. I shake my head. "Because I was ashamed that people would judge me. I mean it was 11 years ago. I should be over it by now. But everytime i hear the thunder and the rain I just can't forget that night. '' I cry and he sighs. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. It is ok to be scared of storms. But you most of all. Don't be ashamed of it. We all have our fears" he explains and I smile. This was why he was my favorite. I pull back and smile at him. "Thanks Fred". He nods his head at me. "No problem".

We sit for a few more minutes before he gets up. "Come on, let's get you back to bed," he says. I nod and stand up taking his hand as a help. When I stand up another crack of lightning comes down and I grab onto Freds waist and cling onto him for dear life. He wraps his arms around him and puts his chin on my head. "Why don't we sleep on the couch tonight. That way I can stay with you" he asks. I nod my head quickly. I didn't want him to leave me. When I was in his arms I felt safe.

We move towards the sitting room and Fred sits down on the couch and lies down. He pulls me towards him and I lie on top of him. He wraps his arms around me as I put my head in the crook of his neck. I smile as I finally feel sleep overcome me.

The next morning we both wake up to the smell of food in the air. I move my head a little bit and feel that I am still on top of Fred. I smile. "Well this is not what i thought i was going to see this morning. Finally found where you went to Freddie" George says smuggly. I groan. Great, now I am going to have to deal with teasing. "George why don't you shut up and go and help mum with breakfast yeah" Fred says as he slowly wakes up. George chuckles and nods his head. "Ok loverboy i will do that" he says before walking out. I sit up and get off of Fred. I look down at him and he is rubbing his eyes trying to wake up. "Umm... thanks for last night" I thank him awkwardly as I'm looking at the floor. He nods and gets up. "No problem" he says. I nod before starting to walk towards the stairs.

"Hey Y/N" he calls. I turn and look at him. He walks up to me and presses his lips to mine in a short but sweet kiss. I pull back and breathe out in shock but I have a huge grin on my face. "Umm..." I said quietly. "I'll see you at breakfast, yeah" I asked him. He nods with a smirk on his face. He kisses my cheek before I turn and run up the stairs feeling shocked but happy.

Fred stands at the bottom of the stairs with a smirk on his face. "Well took you long enough" George calls and Fred groans. "Shut up Georgie".

[hyakki59]

Corazon x Reader - Inappropriate movie

(I don't own the picture)

You and Corazon like to watch movies and series together. Most of them contains more adult contents, because they mainly have violent and brutal scenes. That's why you and Corazon prefer to watch them late at night when Law is sleeping. Law is still a small child and you wouldn't like to watch those kind of movies and series when he is awake. Also, what you and Corazon watch usually have many sex scenes and that's another reason you two prefer to watch all these in private.

As usually, at nights, you, Corazon and Law are sitting on the couch. Law is very attached to you and as the most of the times he is laying on your lap. What you use to do is caressing Law's hair or shoulder as he is laying on you. He fells asleep though.

"Looks like someone is sleeping and needs to go to bed"

Corazon says to Law, touching lightly Law's leg. Law though shake his leg making an 'mgh' sound with a frowning face. He also tighten his arms around you.

"Come on Law, time for bed. Washing teeth first."

You tell Law taping lightly his shoulder. Law doesn't respond at first.

"I will come with you to help you cover yourself with the blankets"

You add and that's when Law sit up with a frowning face and a messy hair. He heads towards the bathroom.

"He listens to you more easily"

Corazon says to you

"What can we do. It seems only women can have an impact on someone"

You answered teasingly, resting your elbow on the couch's arm and then your head on your hand. You also put your legs on the couch benting them. This sight of yours with your body bented and your butt pointed at Corazon, is making him to crave you.

"Well, I can see that"

Corazon says quietly approaching you and observing your body. He sits exactly behind you and caresses slowly down your thigh. He also gives you a slow kiss at the side of your neck. It doesn't take long for Law to go out from the bathroom.

"Y/N will you come?"

Law asks you

"Won't you 'goodnight' me?"

Corazon asks Law turning his head towards him. Law approaches quickly Corazon from behind and gives him a hug, kissing also Corazon's cheek.

"Goodnight Cora"

Law says and heads towards his room with little jumping steps. You follow Law on his room. Law climbs his bed with a jumb. You bring out of Law's closet his blankets and start to cover him with them. You see Law having a worried face as he is laying down.

"Y/N?"

Law says looking at you

"What is it Law?"

You ask him sitting beside him on the bed

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

He asks still having a worried face

"No Law, such things don't exist. Don't be afraid"

You tell him caressing his chest, your hand touching the blanket, in order to reassure him.

"But, my friend Shachi says that a friend of his has seen one"

You are now trying to think the right thing to say to him. Usually many kids have once in their life fears like this.

"Be sure he hadn't ever seen one. As a kid I was afraid too at nights of scary things that I was imagining. It's all in our minds."

Law is now staring at nowhere thinking of what you said.

"So don't be afraid, okay?"

You tell him and Law nods but doesn't seem like overcoming his fear.

"I can keep you company till you sleep, do you want to?"

He nod again wrapping his blankets till his ears and turning on his side. Your hand reaches his hair, starting caressing his short hair which making him sleepy. To keep his mind out of his thoughts you ask him

"What would you like for lunch tomorrow?"

He opens his eyes thinking a little

"Fried chicken"

He says and closes his eyes. You wanted to chuckle because he was so cute answering like that, but hold it to not wake him. You lean down to kiss lightly the top of his head. Law then falls asleep. Corazon appears at the door, looking both of you with a smile. You stand up carefully from the bed and head towards the door. You and Corazon were now on the house's hallway.

"It makes me happy seeing you two like this"

He says, caressing with his both arms your upper limbs. You answer with a smile. Then Corazon leans down to kiss your lips. But as his slightly open mouth approaches yours and it's about to touch it, you lean back avoiding him.

"Not here"

You say taking steps back. You also do with your index a motion like saying 'come here', having a playful expression on your face. Corazon smirks and starts taking steps forward. You then turn him your back starting heading towards your shared bedroom. Corazon's eyes are hypnotized by the moving of your ass. Actually, he always stares there. A 'heat' feeling was awakening inside of him. As you both enter your room, Corazon closes the door behind him and then coming behind you. He grabs with his arms your waist turning you towards him. He leans down again to kiss you, giving you a very passionate kiss, him taking a deep breath. His arms immediately lower down to your ass to grab it firmly. You then break the kiss like you want to stop him. You look at each other and Corazon attack your neck, sucking it. You let out a small moan.

"Corazon.. Maybe Law hasn't fallen asleep completely. We will wake him"

You whisper at Corazon, having one arm behind his head and the other on his chest. He doesn't seem to stop though. He continues to suck your neck and his hands to play with your butt. You are reaching the clouds with that feeling but you need to fall down to the ground.

"Why don't we watch a movie or something? It's a chance now, we haven't seen in a while. We can continue the fun later."

You tell Corazon pushing lightly his chest. As he takes apart, a red mark is now visible on your neck from his sucking. He is sure in the mood for something else. He is heavy breathing.

"You are driving me crazy, you know?"

He says with his chest going up and down. He looks now at your chest which is also going up and down. Oh, how he wanted you. With a sudden motion he squeezes your both clothed boobs and he bites his lower lip. You open your mouth because of the pleasure but choke your moan, so you won't be hearable and also for not turning Corazon even more. Corazon remembers the last thing you said and he now tries to calm himself. His arms leaving your body and he shoves an arm on his hair moving them back. At the same time, he sighs. He heads towards to bathroom, to throw cold water on his face to calm his self from all this heat. You on the other hand are flustered from all this tension with pink cheeks. You try to calm yourself too and start walking inside the room.

You take off your clothes so you could wear your pijamas. When you get yourself ready, Corazon enters in, wearing pijamas too. He observes your change, noticing that you don't wear a bra inside your cloth. He wants to mentally slap himself thinking 'Stop. Not now.' You both climb quietly the bed, shoving your legs under the blankets. You have a sitting position on the bed, with your backs on pillows resting on the headboard.

"Laptop?"

Corazon asks you

"Laptop"

You answer and you lean towards your bedside table to catch your laptop. You place the laptop between you and Corazon and Corazon wraps an arm around your shoulders. You both decide on a movie and start watching it. Some time passed, you and Corazon engrossed in the movie. A scene appears in the screen where the two protagonists are kissing each other with passion and things are getting heated between them. You and Corazon are staring the screen with an interest. Suddenly, the tension between the protagonists stop.

"Fuck them!! They didn't get into the real thing!!"

You exclaim, not that loud to awake Law, throwing your arm at the air. Corazon looks at you with an raising eyebrow, smirking at the same time.

"Don't worry baby, you will get it later"

Corazon tells you shoving his hand between your thighs, his hand reaching almost your womanhood. Your eyes widen slightly because of the enthusiasm and you move your hips and thighs, while Corazon's hand is still between you. His hand never left, it still remains between your thighs as you continue to watch. Eventually, the two protagonists are moving into the real thing. They both are with no clothes, you and Corazon watching nude bodies, and they are touching and grabbing each other's body parts, giving sloppy hearable kisses. You and Corazon are both quiet, enjoying movie's moment. You can tell Corazon is turning on, because his hand that it is between your thighs, squeezes lightly your thigh and his thumb caressing it too. You would lie if you tell that you aren't turned on too. The inside of you wants to kick the laptop and climb on Corazon. The intense scene continues, the woman of the movie starts to moan, her moans gets louder every second. You are sure that you have pink cheeks right now, because you were enjoying all this. At this time, the door of your bedroom opens. It is Law. You pause the movie as fast as you can, hoping Law didn't hear anything.

"Cora.. Y/N.. Can I sleep with you?"

Law asks holding door's knob, having the same worried expression as you saw before.

"Of course Law!"

You answer immediately, closing at the same time the laptop to leave it on the bedside table

"Come here"

Corazon says to Law, patting the bed. Law comes quickly at you two, climbing the bed.

"Tell us what's wrong little guy"

Corazon tells Law covering him also with the blankets

"I'm afraid to sleep alone"

Law admits, getting himself comfortable under the blankets.

"Let's sleep in a hug"

Corazon says to Law opening his arm

"I want Y/N"

Law says turning his back at Corazon and coming towards you. You let out a giggle and wrap an arm around Law. Corazon smiles and get close to you two hugging you both.

[jediken0bi]

Home

Summary:

After a rough case Spencer knows exactly what he needs to feel okay again. Or rather, who he needs

(no smut, pure fluff)

word count: 1747

-

On days like today, the only thing Spencer wants to do is be held by you. It took him some time to figure out that physical affection was something that could make him feel calm and content as opposed to the feeling of discomfort he used to experience every time someone invaded his personal space to go in for a hug or something of that sort. His best guess was that it's different with you because he loves you. Not like he loves Derek or JJ or any other member on his team, but in a way that feels all consuming sometimes.

He means that in the best way possible.

He fell in love with you almost as quickly as you fall asleep after a hard day in the shop. It overwhelmed him at first. He wasn't used to feeling with such intensity.

There was a time where Spencer believed he couldn't love and be loved in return. He didn't think he knew how. But you just walked into his life one day and before he realized it his heart had made the decision to love you.

He'd like to say that he doesn't remember what life used to be like without your constant reminders that you fell in love with him because of what he considers his quirks and not despite of them, or your cuddles that were usually followed by praise or words of encouragement, but the truth is he does remember.

He remembers how dull life felt before you. How lonely he was and how undeserving of love he felt all his life.

Sometimes he can't help but fear what would happen if you suddenly got tired of him.

But then he remembers the words you whisper to him ever so often when you feel him growing anxious:

"You're the brightest star in my galaxy, Spence"

It's cheesy and it's cliche but it soothes his soul like nothing else. Hearing you say those words makes him feel like he can finally let out that breath he's been holding all day long.

It's cheesy and it's cliche but it is perfect.

It's been a little over a week since you and Spencer have last seen each other. Sure, you've texted and called as often as your schedules let you and you even convinced him to facetime you once, but it just doesn't compare to actually being with each other.

The team had just wrapped up a horrible case involving young women. Without going into detail it's fair to say that Spencer couldn't wait to wrap his arms around you tight enough to ensure that you're here with him, that you're safe.

The Metro was late, delaying his arrival by approximately 20 minutes. While that's not enough time to raise concern for a lot of people Spencer knows better than to not let you know.

His job puts him at risk every day and you're not naive enough to believe that safety is a given for people in Spencers line of work.

He shoots you a quick text letting you know he'll be late and you reply with lots of exclamation points, emphasizing how excited you are to see him.

He can't help but smile to himself. He closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. He's struggling with letting the events of that recent case go.

The victims looked too much like you and it sometimes took Spencers focus away from what was right in front of him. He can't help but feel like he should've been quicker.

There's no doubt in his mind that you'll start questioning him as soon as you spot the distressed look on his face and you're going to want him to tell you what happened. And he will. Just maybe not tonight. You two agreed to have no secrets and the key to that is total transparency when it comes to what's on your mind.

He doesn't worry though. You never make him talk about work when he tells you he doesn't want to yet.

You don't push because you know that he'll tell you the next day once he is rested and convinced that both of you are safe.

Completely lost in his thoughts, he almost missed his stop. He managed to get off in time and from there it was only a 5 minute walk to your place.

Your Place.

These words are starting to taste bitter on Spencers tongue. He's been wanting to ask you to move in with him for weeks now but every time the opportunity presents itself he chickens out.

Part of him is so scared you're going to reject him and he's going to lose you.

Realistically speaking he knows that you value your time together as much as he does and he can't imagine you'd ever laugh at him or leave him for something like that but it's those pesky insecurities he's been trying to overcome that tell him that he can't really be sure.

He's confident though. Tonight is the night. As much as he doesn't mind going to your place to see you after cases, he can't shake the thoughts of him being able to come home to you. Thoughts of you waiting for him with open arms and a overall presence of love that will fills your shared apartment.

Before he can get too lost in his thoughts he knocks on your door and starts nervously shifting around on his feet.

It's not that he's afraid you're not happy to see him. Quite the opposite actually you've made sure he knows you've missed him just as much as he missed you. It's just that Spencer never really got used to being on the receiving end of such strong affection.

He loves it. God, he loves it so much but it still feels like it's too good to be true. His job makes him paranoid and as much as he wants to, he can't quite shake his anxieties about losing you just yet.

You open the door and he looks up with wide eyes.

There you are in your worn out Star Wars shirt with those adorable matching shorts practically beaming at him. You look so happy to see him. Because of him. His eyes immediately soften and he opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

"Spence!! You're back!"

Before he knows it you're already in his arms. Legs wrapped around his middle and arms around his neck squeezing him tightly before leaning back to press a firm kiss to his head.

He doesn't waste a single second. Wrapping his arms around you and pressing you closer to his chest. He lets out a breathy laugh.

"Hey there beautiful. I missed you so much"

You let out a small giggle before leaving the embrace to properly look at him. One of your hands goes to rest on his cheek while the other starts brushing through his messy hair.

You look at him with a wide smile.

"I can almost guarantee i missed you more, handsome. Now come in we haven't cuddled in over a week and i'm starting to feel very serious withdrawal symptoms!"

This time he lets out a proper laugh, nodding his head and taking your hands in his.

"Yeah i know a thing or two about that. We got a lot catching up to do then"

You only smile wider and drag him inside, promptly closing the door behind you.

"Indeed we do so go get changed. You must be uncomfortable in those clothes. You're in luck sir your pj's just got out of the dryer"

You push him towards the bedroom door and both of you laugh at the domestic scene at hand before Spencer stops, turns out and wraps one of his arms around your waist.

"Can i get a 'welcome home' first"

He looks at you with such love in his eyes you almost forget what you want to say.

"Hmm well technically you're not home yet"

You say teasingly knowing exactly what he is actually asking for. You're more than willing to give it to him considering it's all you could think about this past week and a half but you always did enjoy watching him squirm.

Spencer doesn't seem fazed by your comment. He looks a bit nervous but other than that he radiates a certain confidence you're finding incredibly attractive on him.

"You're here, aren't you? My home isn't a place. It's a person and that person is standing in front me right now"

You stare at him with shiny eyes. Despite what he may think, Spencer is actually quite the romantic. It's not unusual for him to compliment you out of nowhere. You're fairly confident you never experienced genuine love until you've met Spencer.

But this? This was so much more than a compliment. It's him wanting to make you understand just how committed he is to you. How much he loves you.

Not wanting to wait any longer you just grab him by the collar of his vest and press a firm kiss to his lips. You only hope that Spencer can feel the extent of your love through this kiss.

What starts out as a innocent way to proof that he is your home too quickly turns more heated when Spencer presses you closer to him.

His tongue asks for entrance and you grand it to him. You're completely lost in the feeling of Spencer and every second that passes you get more desperate to proof your love to him like he did by telling you you're his home.

Your hands start roaming through his hair before landing on the nape of his neck.

He lets out a soft sigh as you start playing with his curls. After some time the two of you are starting to slow down until it was only an exchange of little pecks and reassuring kisses to the forehead, nose or cheek.

Lips just millimeters apart you whisper: "You're my home, too, Spence"

He smiles and presses another soft kiss to your lips.

Not ready to break the embrace just yet, you hug him tight. He, obviously not wanting to let go of you either, starts rubbing small circles on the sides of your hips.

"Welcome home baby"

You whisper into his neck. Loud enough so he could hear it but not loud enough so it would break the quiet atmosphere around you two.

[nsfwnct]

Killing Me

Pairing: Jaehyun + F Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Murderer!au, Non Con, force, bondage (duct tape), degradation, manipulation (gaslighting), HARDCORE THEMES, blood, death threats, body fluids.

Word Count: 1282

WARNING: This fic contains EXTREME themes that are PURELY for fantasy purposes. I do not condone any of these actions outside of a fantasy setting. This fic contains NON CONSENSUAL penetration. This fic should not be read by ANY person who does not take interest in CNC/NONCON, Heavy dark themes and/or horror.

Summary: Reader walks in on their boyfriend, Jaehyun, having just commit murder. Jaehyun is furious that she would ever think he would hurt her and takes it out in the reader.

This has to be a dream.

You stood in the hallway of the home you shared with Jaehyun, speechless as your blood ran cold at the scene you had walked in to.

Your beloved boyfriend was stood Infront of the bathroom door, dishevelled and covered in stains of deep red. You had to be seeing things.

"Baby. You weren't supposed to be home for a few hours..." He speaks as gentle as he could but the man speaking isn't YOUR Jae. He couldn't be. His eyes are almost pitch black and there's a hint of something devilish deep in his voice as he steps toward you, wiping his hands on his light wash jeans only to add to the smears of crimson that had already tainted the fabric.

"What... What's going on... Jae..." He can hear the fear in your voice and, though he hadn't intended for this to happen, he can't help but find a sick sense of pleasure at the sight of you inching away from him, your instincts telling you to make yourself small as if it were possible for you to disappear from your nightmare.

"He deserved it, angel. You know me. Why would I ever do something if it wasn't necessary?" You startled when he takes another step forward, taking 3 back out of fear of what he may do. How could this be the man you had spent the last year and a half of your life with.

"Come on, baby. You don't think I'd hurt you, do you?" He shakes his head, your lower back bumping against the kitchen table. He has you trapped where you are, a hand meeting your hips softly as the other holds your chin. "How could you possibly think so lowly of me? I've always been good to you, haven't I? I've never hurt you, baby." Your mind is fuzzy with a mixture of fear, confusion and adrenaline, his words twisting in your mind.

"You... Is he..." He presses a cold kiss against your lips, a copper taste meeting your tongue from where his lip had been cut, assumably during the struggle of his crime. It's a taste that makes you want to push him away from you and run but you knew you didn't stand a chance against him.

"Well of course. I always finish what I start, don't I?" There's a hint of a smile tainting his lips as he stares down at you, pressing another more aggressive kiss to your lips. His displeasure is clear when you don't return his kiss and his grip moves from your jaw to your cheeks, squeezing slightly and holding your head still.

You try to avoid eye contact, angering him further. "How could you be so cruel, my love? I've always given you everything you could possibly want and yet you act like this over a moral disagreement?" He's truly a master manipulator, succeeded in planting a seed of guilt in the pit of your stomach.

"Jaehyun... Please let me go.." A low growl escapes his lips at the suggestion. You would really have the audacity to try and leave him?

"You're so fucking ungrateful." The hand that was holding your cheeks is quickly moved to your hair, grabbing a handful to help him stand you up properly, dragging you forward toward your bedroom. You dare to look into the bathroom as you pass and your heart practically stops when you see the blood painting your once shining white tile.

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted as you're pushed into the bedroom, your body stumbling toward to bed as Jaehyun moves to grab something off your drawers. You don't see what it is as you regain stability for only a second before your arms are being yanked behind your back, duct tape wrapping around your wrist painfully tight. Your struggling is useless, the man you loved shoving you down onto your bed. You stare up at him with pleading eyes.

"Jaehyun, please don't-" Your begging is cut short, tape slapping over your mouth. You can no longer hold back your tears as they spill down your cheeks, the sight only heightening Jaehyun's enjoyment.

"I've always thought you were so pretty when you cried." He muttered, crawling between your legs. He pries them apart, pushing up your skirt and groaning deep withing his throat as he sees the thin fabric of your thong completely soaked. You couldn't help it, of course. He knew that. Your body was sexualising your fear as a coping mechanism. But he loved that. He loved watching your useless struggling as your pussy dripped.

"You know... You're lucky I love you so much, baby." He whispers against your ear, his tongue trailing down your neck as his fingers duck beneath your underwear to rub your clit. "You could have been another victim. That could have been you laying lifeless on the bathroom floor." A moan is forced from you, muffled by the tape as he easily presses two fingers inside of your soaking cunt, thrusting them in and out of you slowly. "But this pussy is too good to kill you."

Your cheeks are covered with mascara, Jaehyun moaning happily when you start crying harder, his jeans being tugged down to free his cock enough for him to start sliding it against your slit. You hate him. Or, you wish you hated him. You were overcome with a heavy feeling of shame upon realising how disgustingly good it felt to have him touch you, almost WANTING him to fuck you. You don't have a choice in that however, his thick cock forcing it's way inside of you. He isn't met with any resistance, your pussy always adjusting to him so easily. He had a power over you that you have never been able to explain.

"Fuck, baby. It's almost like you're enjoying yourself, hm? You're so fucking wet for me." He thrust are rough and messy, his hand wrapping around your throat so tight that you could have sworn you blacked out for a moment.

"I could still kill you. I could end your precious little life with my cock shoved inside you. Wouldn't that feel so good? To die being fucked like a filthy fucking slut?" His words should disgust you. They should make you wish your suffering would end. But they don't. Instead of rejecting the thought, your pussy squeezes tight around him, suddenly hit by your orgasm. Jaehyun is absolutely thrilled, relishing in your uncontrollable whines as your body convulses and twitches.

You do black out at some point, coming to as Jaehyun pulls out of you, grabbing the bottom of your thighs and forcing them toward your chest, crossing your legs and thrusting his cock between your thighs in search of his own high. It's only a minute before he's painting you with his cum, some on your chest and some reaching your face. He could have cum in you, sure, but you look absolutely broken this way.

He doesn't clean you up or attempt to move you off of the now blood stained sheets. You were sure some of it was yours, only now feeling the sting of various cuts along your skin from his nails digging in. He quickly rolls you on to your side, pleased to see how red and marked your wrist were around the tape. He wouldn't be removing it, or the tape over your mouth.

"I'm not done with you, my dearest Bunny. I have to decide how I'm going to keep you in line." He climbs off the bed, pulling his jeans up and reaching for a towel to wipe his hands. "Be sure not to go anywhere."

[jjmaybanksblog]

Sunshine- JJ Maybank

( not my gif!)

hi girl 💕 i was hoping you’d be interested in doing another jj x reader? Where JJ finds her hidden, having a panic attack and it takes a little bit to calm her down? 52, 84, 92, 125 , 152 were the numbers I picked but if there’s too many or you can’t make them all work, you can pick whichever. 💜

Word count: 1,552 

Summary: JJ finds you having a panic attack and is right by your side to help you calm down.

Prompts:

52. “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

84. “Take your medicine.”

92. “I feel like I can’t breathe.”

125. “Don’t do anything stupid, I’m gonna help you.”

152. “It happened again.”

17 years. 17 years of constant arguments between your parents that ended with screaming and cussing. 17 years of flinching everytime a door slammed. 17 years of wondering if it would end with violence or a drunk mother and/or father. 

There was one person who stayed by your side those entire 17 years, your best friend JJ Maybank. JJ was your neighbor since you two were in diapers, becoming his best friend after he asked you if you would like to go to the local playground to go collect bugs for his insect tank. He was always there for you no matter what the issue was, whether it be a boy who broke your heart, your parents arguing, hell even if you had cramps he would be over in a minute with snacks and medicine for the pain.

JJ knew you more than you knew yourself; he knew when you were stressed, he knew when you haven't eaten, he knew if you needed to leave a situation, he always knew if you didn't take your medication. He was always on top of you with your medication for your anxiety. Everyday at 3 p.m. and he wasn't with you, he would call or text you to make sure you took the pills.

He was the reason you were still alive and functioning, the reason you were still smiling even with everything you were facing. He was there right by your side holding your hand when you went to your first therapy session. He was there for you when you had your first panic attack. JJ was the ray of sunshine in the tunnel of darkness that suffocated you.

It was 5 in the morning when you first heard the shouts of your parents. Their screams echoed through the halls, slamming against the sound of the closed bathroom door. You sat in the bathtub, knees pulled up to your chest as you rested your head on your arms. You rocked back and forth softly trying to catch your breath as it felt like the walls were closing in.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clamped your hands over your ears as you heard a harsh slapping sound and a broken cry escape your mother's lips. The feeling of a cement block slowly felt like it was pushing on your chest, making it feel like your throat closed up with each breath you took. "It's okay, I'm okay." You quietly repeated to yourself, trying to trick yourself into believing it.

You opened your eyes, quickly shutting them again when you saw black splotches in the air; like when you rub your eyes too hard and you see the white spots in the back of your mind. You were too focused on trying to calm yourself down, you didn't notice the door slamming twice signaling that both your parents left you alone in the house. 

JJ was out in his backyard hearing the whole thing, eyes trained on your house praying that you were okay. As soon as he saw your parents storm out the front door he hopped over his fence and ran straight  into your house. Panic was written on his face as he checked every room in the house, not seeing any sign of you. He checked your bedroom to see messed up sheets and your prescription medication on your night stand. 

He ran to the bathroom directly across the hall to hear your broken whimpers coming from inside. He didn't want to burst into the room, knowing that would only make your panic attack worse. He gently knocked on the door, feeling panicked when you didn't answer in any way. He opened the door to see an empty bathroom, but he quickly realized you were sitting in the bathtub. Pulling the curtain back, his heart shattered seeing you in such a distressed state.

You popped your head up at the sound of the curtain moving, afraid your parents found you there. You instantly felt a wave of relief rush through your body, but you still felt like you were frozen in fear. "I feel like I can't breathe." You stuttered, still feeling the crushing weight on your chest. He quickly got down on his knees to become face to face with you. He slowly reached his hand out and held onto your shoulders, waiting for you to allow him to hug you. 

You turned your body towards him and that's when he knew he could hug you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, the other holding the back of your head; entangling itself in your hair. Tucking your face into the crook of your neck, you felt as if you could slowly start to breathe again. "It happened again." You mumbled, attempting to stop your body from shaking. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before slowly pulling back. 

“Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore." He pressed his forehead against yours, placing your hand on his chest, right on top of his heart. "Follow my breathing, okay? In… out… in… out… there we go, sunshine." You repeated his actions, feeling your lungs inhale the air properly. The heavy weight was no longer on your chest, leaving a small aching feeling.

“Don’t do anything stupid, I’m gonna help you," he said, "I'll be right back." You swallowed harshly, realizing how dry your mouth had gotten. You wiped away the stray tears with the back of your hand and blew your nose with toilet paper before JJ came back with your pill bottle and a glass of water.

“Take your medicine.” He instructed, passing you a pill into your hand. You sighed loudly before looking up at JJ. He gave you a look you knew all too well. It was the 'Please take this before I have to forcefully cram it down your throat' look that he's been giving you since you first got the prescription. You tossed the pill into your mouth, quickly chugging the glass of water. You fanned yourself with your hands, body feeling hot from feeling so claustrophobic.

"Hot?" He asked, sitting on the lid of the toilet. You nodded your head, running your hand through your hair to push it out of your face. "You trust me?" He asked you as he stood up. You nodded your head, "of course." "Okay, just sit there but scoot forwards." You obeyed him as scooted towards the front of the tub, your eyelids feeling heavy. 

JJ slowly turned the faucet on and plugged the tub, allowing it to begin to fill with cold water. You instantly relaxed at the cool touch, softly grinning as you saw JJ take his shoes off before stepping into the tub behind you. You reached forward and shut the water off once it reached up to your thighs. JJ rested against the back wall, allowing you to lay yourself between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. His arms reached around your front as he looped his fingers on top of yours. Your body shivered as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine." He started softly singing, earning a soft giggle from you. "You make me happy when skies are gray." You sang with him, letting the feeling of happiness overcome your emotions. "You never know dear, how much I love you." You tilted your head back against his chest, fluttering your eyes shut as he pecked your forehead. "Please don't take my sunshine away." 

You could feel your heartbeat find a steady pace once again as you surrounded yourself in JJ's touch. He rested his cheek on the top of your head, smiling to himself as he heard you sigh in relief. "You okay princess?" He whispered into your ear, triggering a patch of goosebumps to appear on your arms. 

"Is it okay if I go get us some dry clothes?" You nodded your head as JJ carefully exited the tub, grabbing a towel to dry his lower half off. You stretched your body out in the tub, letting the cool water splash against your torso. JJ went to your closet, immediately taking his extra clothes he leaves there for nights like this one. He picked out shorts and a shirt for you to sleep in, hoping it would be comfortable enough for you. 

He walked back towards the bathroom, passing you a towel and your dry clothes. You two faced away from each other as you both quickly changed out of your clothes. You giggled as JJ almost fell over trying to put his shorts on, hearing him grunt in annoyance at his action. 

Being too lazy to put your clothes in the washer, you left your clothes in the bathtub along with JJ's. You led him to your room, closing the door before you threw yourself onto your bed. JJ turned the bedroom lights off before joining you in bed, carefully tucking the sheets around your body. You faced him, your eyes slowly shutting as JJ held the side of your face, his thumb delicately skimming your cheek. 

"Goodnight, sunshine." You mumbled, angling your head to kiss the palm of his hand. He smiled at you with an adoring look in his eyes, "goodnight, princess."

[ilovel0ki]

Burning Light

loki x oc

warnings: blood, war, almost deaths

Writing this has been super enjoyable for me. It's based off of Safe & Sound by Taylor Swift and The Central Wars. I really like the song and it gave me a jolt of inspiration.

Some angst and fluff, with a happy ending

Word count: 3.5k

I'm looking forward to have some of you read it. I know it may not reach lots of people but I do hope it brightens up someone's day :)

Unmistakeable clashing and clanging of swords echoed through the once-peaceful city - which lay in eerie unrest. Warriors strapped in bloodstained armour, which was once a lustrous luminescent gold, rushed around with panic-stricken faces, bringing their injured colleages with them. Their faces unrecognisable - smeared with tainted, crimson blood. Eyes once filled with joy and life had become dull with exhaustion. Even the children could tell something had gone quite wrong as they were being scrambled to safety. How couldn’t they, when only hours before they had been blithely engaging in play. Now they were being dragged into the promised safety of their homes. Still, on this side of town, the situation was slightly better.

Nevertheless, the fact was painfully clear; Asgard was at war.

A war that had only just begun. A war that would wreak just as much havoc as any other, unless handled conscientiously. Currently, that wasn’t going so well. The opposing kingdom hadn’t spoken of a reason to wage this sanguinary battle. They just barged in guns-a-blazing. One could only hope it would be over soon.

In the opposite side of town, the infamous Asgardian army, known for its expertise and experience, was busy and bustling. Healers were tending to those caught in the crossfire while others were getting ready to join it. The warriors were determined; they were trained meticulously for situations like these.

One such warrior was buckling up her hefty armor on her body, following that by trying to tie back her flowing vermillion-red hair. Unsuccessful, she stood straight. Tall, dignified and regal; she was a sophisticated beauty. And she knew it.

In need of help, the girl surveyed her surroundings. Brilliant blue eyes darted to and fro to gauge someone who could possibly help. Then, gleefully, she spotted a familiar face walk by. A very familiar face indeed.

With a hastily thought out plan-of-attack, Ilaire sauntered towards the aformentioned person. Wrapping her arms around him, she sultrily whispered in his ear, “Hey, Loki. Could you help me with my tiresome hair”.

Though Ilaire couldn’t see it, a slow smirk settled upon the trickster’s face. Loki turned on his heel and susurrated, “Darling, you need not put on that act. I would help you if you simply asked, after all have we not been friends since adolescence?”.

Ilaire flippantly nodded in answer as a chesire cat grin took over her face at having succeeded in her task. She flipped around to give Loki better access to her hair. Without complaint, Loki took charge of her fiery silken hair and began to masterfully twist her hair into an elegant yet practical fashion, as if he had done it all his life. In a sort of way, he had. With a raised hand, Ilaire tried - in vain - to pass a ribbon to Loki to tie her hair back.

“Don’t bother, I have already used my seidr to place a ribbon in your hair”, Loki acknowledged, amused. “It’s emerald green, isn’t it?”,exasperated, the warrior questioned with her hand on the bridge of her nose.

Loki chuckled in response.

“Well, thank you anyway”, she said as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

For a second, Loki’s mask of cold indifference slipped and gave way to something softer, akin to endearment. But it came back up just as Thor’s voice boomed across the army quarters.

“WARRIORS! The next waves must get ready to leave. Wave 32 and 33 get into position in 10 minutes, with Leaders Prince Loki and Lady Ilaire on the frontlines!”.

Centuries ago, Loki and Ilaire had trained together diligently and achieved higher ranks in the army hierarchy together. Both had now been promoted to a Leader position, the second highest position, preceded only by the Chief.

Thor’s information brought a surge of sobriety to the bantering friends as they realised what they were about to go into. They looked to each other, their eyes met and both nodded at the same time with locked jaws and unyielding glares. Synchronised, they turned to their corresponding waves and bellowed, “GET INTO POSITION WARRIORS!”.

A clangour resonated as the warriors began to put the remaining pieces of armour on. Ilaire’s usually welcoming eyes grew dark. Loki’s gaze grew steely. With a grave expression, Thor strode to their area. Without missing a beat, he trapped both Ilaire and Loki in an unwavering hug. It portrayed all of his emotions: distress; fear and concern. As he continued to not let them go, Loki’s choked voice broke out, “Brother, you must let us go”. Reluctantly, Thor pulled back and Ilaire could’ve sworn that his eyes were wetter than before. “Brother. Sister. Be careful. And most of all come back alive,” Thor spoke in a brittle voice.

Somewhere along the line, Ilaire had become an honorary Odinson family member. To Thor she was a sister and to Loki, she hoped she was something more. Still, a new wave of emotion passed over Ilaire as she heard Thor call her his sister. She fought valiantly to not be overcome with tearful sobs.

“Do not worry, Chief,” she called him in unbridled affection “We will try our best”, she replied in a hoarse manner. “Don’t miss us too much,” Loki too replied, with a rare smile and a suave salute.

The red-haired warrior clashed her sword on her shield to catch the attention of her assigned wave. “Alright, team! We’ve trained together for 150 years. We will continue to train far longer than that! We must! So go out and show those brutely creatures WHO’S BOSS!”, Ilaire’s battlecry washed over her warriors.

As the gates opened and perfectly formed formations walked out, merciless stony gazes could be seen all around. Loki and Ilaire stood at the frontlines, the wind amplifying their battle-hardened gazes. They both walked on the bloodsoaked ground, unfaltering, with a mission. As they got closer to the first of the aliens, Ilaire slashed at one, sending it accross the battleground. Beneath her feet, alien remains squelched and the air zinged with bloodshed.

The aliens were a sickly yellow with a strange slimy goo coating them. They were of a medium stature. Not too big but not too small. Ilaire had never seen such creatures.

Loki snarkily thought ‘They’re about Thor’s size. Doesn’t seem like this will be too hard’.

All around the two leaders, fights were breaking out and more yellow creatures were going down with them. Soldiers were slashing and punching with unmatched gusto. A pile of miserable dead opponents was starting to build up. Then something strange happened.

Something no one would’ve expected.

Something that shocked everyone.

Something that made perfect sense considering the earlier bloodshed.

The creatures that had been piled on top of each other started to melt and then meld together. It was a ghastly view. Bones shifting and rotting skin stretching. The creatures had melded together to become one mega-creature. A mega-creature larger than the small aliens before. Larger than Thor.

This truth dawned on the fighting forces and panic started brimming. Nothing like this had ever been faced before. It was entirely unprecedented. The Asgardian army certainly wasn’t trained for this. And judging by the drained, feeble warriors taken back to the healers, the other waves hadn’t realised this either. Alarm bells started ringing in Loki and Ilaire’s minds.

Loki’s mind started racing while simultaneously fighting off more of the alien soldiers.

Ilaire was frantically trying to think of a solution.

All thoughts seemed to evade them. The realm’s greatest minds had gone suddenly blank.

Panic was bubbling and almost tangible in the air.

One of the warriors, thankfully, came to the rescue, saving the situation like it was a damsel in distress. “SEPARATE THEM ONCE YOU KILL THEM, THAT WAY THEY CAN’T MOLD TOGETHER!”.

Ilaire let out a much-needed sigh of relief, yet she knew the real battle still remained. With a new plan, the waves started fighting with renewed vigour. After each kill, the creature was picked up and thrown on an empty space. Swords pierced and clanged, blood spattered and the beginnings of victory were starting to be seen. It was so close yet so far. Right within a hand’s reach, yet victory had not yet been snatched.

As Ilaire swerved to fight off another mega-creature, one approached from behind. WIth her eyes on the creature she was fighting, Ilaire did not notice the second creature. Loki’s mouth started to open in warning as he watched in fright. Unfortunately, his warning was a few seconds too slow. The creature grabbed a fallen sword and gashed at the sliver of skin between Ilaire’s chest and back armour with a mighty roar. Then a few things happened in succession.

A breathy gasp left Ilaire’s mouth as her hands grasped at her side, trying to gauge the situation. Her sword had unceremoniously dropped to the floor and lay lackadaisical. Her hands came away covered in her own blood, as more started to seep out. Crimson. Her breaths became raspy as she fell to her knees, head bowed. Several screams could be heard. Two of those were Loki and Thor.

Loki elbowed and slashed his way with an unmatched rage to reach his best friend. His mind was racing with denial, 'It could not end like this. It would not end like this.’

“Get out of the WAY!” he barked with barely held back anger.

Near the army quarters, Thor was making his way out to the battlefield. He would not sit by idly as his family was attacked. It was his turn.

As Thor reached his brother, he saw him kneeling beside Ilaire, undoing her armor and ripping a shred of his tunic to wrap it around her bleeding torso. “Take her to the healers, I will take care of this now,” Thor uttered quietly, yet if one looked closely, the simmering anger under his words was visible.

Then he yelled and charged towards his sorry opponents.

This left Loki. He looped his arms under her knees and shoulders and picked up Ilaire, and began to carry her towards the army quarters. “Love, look at me,” he spoke softly with a tender gaze.

It was getting harder for Ilaire to see by the minute as more blood was lost and her vision was spotting. “I can’t… I can’t,” Ilaire answered. A weak whimper escaped her lips.

“Yes, you can! Just focus on me”

Loki was starting to jog now, in desperation.

Commandingly, a shrill sound reverberated throughout the air. “LOKI ODINSON. WE ARE HERE TO COLLECT YOU. COME WITH US OR HAVE YOUR REALM FACE THE DISASTROUS CONSEQUENCES”.

Everything was going wrong. How could it have gone so wrong? Too much blood spilt and too many lives being lost by the minute.

Ilaire didn’t know what to do with this new command. Loki continued walking with an unreadable look on his face.

Ilaire struggled to keep her eyes open, but she got through until they had reached the healers.

A healer began to assess her; poking and prodding at the wound. Loki’s deperate voice rose, “Do something! Help her!”.

“The salve may take too long to brew. It could be too late for her,” the healer replied with an apologetic gaze.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN! HELP HER! I AM THE PRINCE OF ASGARD AND SHE, A LADY OF THE COURT! THERE MUST BE SOMETHING YOU CAN DO!” Loki hissed.

“Prince Loki, we will try our best but there’s no guarantee”.

Loki growled and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He was mad. He had injured himself too much to be able to use his magic. If only he fought more efficiently, if only he did more - maybe he could have healed her. If only.

After a grueling half hour, the healer gave the confirmation.

A half hour of desperate waiting for the news.

A half hour that seemed miles longer than it was.

Ilaire would make it.

'She's gonna make it'

Loki let out the breath he had been holding and slumped in a chair with relief. He had refused to let her out of his sight. A weary smile took shape on his face and he let out a breathless laugh of joy.

“Prince Loki, take her to the royal chambers and allow her to sleep. Until now she has had to stay awake until her healing was confirmed, in case of her becoming comatose,” the healer instructed Loki.

He walked to the stretcher Ilaire was laid upon and picked her up in the same style again. Ilaire wrapped her arms around Loki’s neck in a hug. “You’re alright,” Loki spoke through deep breaths with a reciprocated hug, rubbing her back to soothe her. Ilaire hugged him tightly. She almost died. She hugged him like it was her last time, because it very well could be. She didn’t want to waste this precious time.

God, Loki was grateful. Grateful she made it. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if something happened to her.

_______

Ilaire was carried to the Royal Palace adjoining to the army quarters. As she was gently dropped on her bed, she spoke for the first time since her attack. She knew Loki would go to the opposing kingdom. He would not wage a war on his own kingdom. “Don’t go Loki,” she pleaded, “I’ll never let you go”.

“Ilaire, I have to go. You know I do,” a tear ran down his face as he spoke the words that would seal his fate. A fate without her.

“Don’t leave me here alone,” Ilaire choked out as hot tears brimed in her eyes. “You’ll always have my spirit. Just think of me,” Loki smiled through the gut-wrenching pain. He really, really didn’t want to leave. But, for once, he wanted to do the right thing. For once, he wanted to earn her friendship.

“Go to sleep, Ilaire. You need it to heal,” Loki cleared his throat before speaking. A protest fought to release itself from Ilaire’s mouth but Loki raised a hand to cut it off. “You know I must do this. There is no use in arguing. I just want you to be safe”, his voice grew hoarse at his last words.

Loki spoke again, “Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you’ll be safe and sound”.

As much as she tried to fight it, Ilaire could not hold off sleep any longer. She wished she could stay awake so that she could convince the love of her life to stay. She wished he didn’t have to sacrifice himself. She wished he didn’t have to go at all. She wished to say and hear so many things that had been left unsaid. But sleep was consuming her. And time was running out. The sand in the hypothetical hourglass was falling at an ever-faster rate.

As her eyelides fluttered, she started to speak, “I lo…,” before sleep consumed her and she trailed off.

She had failed to say those three small words. Three small words. The ones that could’ve changed her life. The ones she will never get to say to him again.

Loki stood and wiped the tears off her face and kissed her cheek, before bringing up a blanket to cover her.

“I love you, Ilaire. I wish we had more time. But we do not. Maybe, one day, we’ll find each other in a another life and live peacefully. Who knows, we could have had a beautiful castle with the most magnificent grounds. Overlooking a view almost as beautiful as you. Or maybe we could’ve had a cottage. On the edge of the woods, next to a crystal clear lake", Loki spoke. He knew as he uttered those words that they will never get to do that now.

Neither heard the words of the other.

With that, he left, making his way back on to the battlefield.

__________

"IT IS I, LOKI ODINSON,” he presented himself. The alien leader made his way to the front. “Goodness, you’re a puny one. Whatever. Chain him, minions”, the yellow leader commanded. Thor watched in shocked silence. But even he knew that this had to be done. The brothers nodded to each other in farewell.

Loki was dragged, in chains, to the ostentatious spaceship of the aliens.

“You have stolen from me, Odinson,” a voice reached him. Loki struggled to remember what he had stolen. There were so many things he had recently pilfered. Then it hit him. He had stolen Maricusan. The most versatile and strong material in the nine realms. This material was used to make the Odinson family armors. And it came from Maricus. The planet known for being deceitful. This meant that their word was false. Unsurprisingly, they were also known for making false deals.

They would not only kill Loki but pillage Asgard too. At this moment, Loki realised he was in deep shit.

A minute ago, he had gone willingly. Now he would fight back. He would fight back to see his brother. He would fight back to see his beloved. With one swift motion, he pulled his hands apart, resulting in the chains snapping with an audible snap. As creatures advanced on him, he kicked and punched while using his clones to distract. Then, through the corner of his eye, he saw an opening in the door, which he managed to slip through.

As he re-entered the battlefield once again, he signaled to Thor. Thor’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of his brother. By now, he too had discovered the yellow Maricusians’ melding properties. The two brother came up with the quickest battle strategy they had ever made and got to work.

____________

In the Royal Palace, Ilaire had woken up. Her sleep was restless and a headache plagued her along with her rampant thoughts. Her beloved was going to sacrifice himself. Or maybe he had done so already. Pain stabbed her heart and tears started to collect in her eyes again. She did not want to be a whiny mess, but what else was she supposed to do? She was helpless against fate.

Sobs warcked her body. Then she saw a glint through her window. She curiously peeked towards it. Then she noticed the ongoing battle. The war was raging on. Now she was confused. Brows furrowed, she looked harder. Then. Then she saw the trademark emerald green and gold. Her heart soared in hope she dared not have.

'Was that Loki?'

She impatiently waited for the man to turn around, biting her nails in nervousness. Sand fell tantalizingly slow in the hypothetical hourglass. Time trickled by leisurely. Never had a moment seemed so long.

It was Loki.

The man was Loki.

A beaming smile broke out on her face as her tears turned to those of joy. She could hear a joyful tune playing in her head. It was a victory song. She felt victorious. She felt victorious for the first time on that horrendous day.

Their eyes met, and their smiles matched. Loki's eyes glinted with affection.

Too weak to join her warriors, Ilaire looked out at the battlefield. Nervously, waiting and hoping. And when the last blow happened, she was lost in felicity. They had done it. They had won. They got through unscathed. Sort of.

Hurriedly, Ilaire raced as fast as she could with her striking injury to get out to the battlefield. She saw Loki and he saw her. He held his arms out and she jumped into them, hugging him ferociously.

“Darling, you should be resting. That is a rather large wound,” he spoke in relief. He was glad to see her.

“You were supposed to die!” she replied.

“Good to know you like me alive,” Loki grumbled.

Like that, the two continued to banter, as Loki walked her back to her chambers, a hand around her shoulders too keep her steady.

When Ilaire entered her room, she started to speak, “Loki, there are many things I wish to say to you. One thing in particular. As I was thinking about possibly losing you, I thought of the things I never got to say”. She paused to gather her breath and to collect strength. She oh-so-very desperately hoped her words didn't come out as verbal diarrhoea.

“I love you. I love you, Loki. I have ever since you picked out that flower bouquet for me. Or when you spar with me. Or when we argue.” She chuckled, “I still keep those flowers preserved because its such a lovely memory.”

She stood with bated breath and nervousness running through her veins.

Loki's face had become softer somehow. His eyes were warm. And when Ilaire realised that this warmth was directed towards her, butterflies collected in her stomach.

“Ilaire, I adore you. I love you with the heat of a thousand suns. Yes, I know that’s cliche. But those are my feelings. You are my beacon when everything else fails. So, I wish to ask you something."

A pause.

Be mine?” he asked with a tender smile and soft blue eyes.

“Say that again,” Ilaire commanded hoarsely.

“Be mine” he smirked.

“Yes,” Ilaire whispered breathily.

Loki rushed forward and gathered Ilaire in his arms, glad to have found his love; his best friend.

“Come morning light, you and I’ll be… safe and sound”

This is what I imagine my OC to look like. Feel free to change as you please :)

Let me know your thoughts and if you'd like me to write something else <3

[the-satellite]

Hello friends and welcome to ☆Hateful Nostalgia☆. I was exposed to the mob talker mod WAY too young bc I was an unsupervised child on the internet watching mod showcases and SkyDoesMinecraft. Looking back these sucked, the stories were often bland and the designs were milk toast at best and tits out at worst. So for the sake of procrastinating on working on anything substantial I grabbed the main 6 I remembered and gussied em up. Redesigns, rewrites, better names, all that bullshit. If your interested in better photos, design notes, story details and rambling hit the basement, otherwise here's a line up you should click for better quality.

Also I wrote all this once before already but I deleted it like a dumb bitch. On the night Unus Annus was murdered in front of my eyes no less. Was a rough fuckin night.

The Creeper- Kupa. An explosive pyromaniac with a habit of making empty threats and yelling. She protects what she believes to be her territory with a suicidal passion, but if you manage to get her to cool down and soften up she's pretty sick to hand out with. Hard of hearing, has at least one bout of head trauma at all times, and deathly allergic to cats.

Because the creeper is kinda the og I wanted to reference AT2's design more than the others, but I'm p sure the only thing I actually kept was the red hair and brown gloves. Otherwise I was doing whatever. I really wanted to lean into the explody bit of creepers, so I gave her some bite and dressed her in clothes referenced from Irish railroad workers. This may also be why I keep imaging her with a very heavy Irish or Scottish accent, whichever would be most incomprehensible when angry. Every color but her skin was color picked from one of the references, with some minor alterations for makes my eyes happy reasons.

With Kupa I imagine a story line with her would largely be about her as a character and her development than like an actual adventure narrative like everyone else. She starts off ready to blow up both you and herself in a misguided attempt to defend what she sees as her's and opens up and learns not everyone is out to get her. Lots of time taken to understand her childhood and how she ended up how she is. Very simple, probably the default or tutorial run people would go through.

The Zombie- Bee. The ill husk of a missing explorer suffering from a less than conventional appetite. She wallows in her self imposed loneliness, believing herself to be an irredeemable monster doomed to hurt those around her. What she really needs is a buddy and some clue to who she used to be. Rough voiced, chronically fatigued, and prone to spontaneous combustion in sunlight.

 I definitely consider this one the weakest for design sadly. I imagined Zombies as humans who went into strange caves and caverns and didn't come out for years, only to pop up as completely different people. I just tossed AT2's design. The first thing I did was make her a bit of a genderbent Steve and tinted her green bc Zombies in game are just Steve but green. Tore up her clothes, colored picked the darkest colors I could from the clothes on the in game and boom, Bee. I do vaguely regret not making her eyes pure black but I also still wanted her to be human enough to fit with the other overworld mods.

 Ok so Bee actually has a basic story. When you meet her she's aggressive, but as a warning. She fears the possibility she may hurt somebody so heads for threats immediately. Going back and forth between her cave and village for a while you learn more about the situation with the missing folks who come back and Bee as a person. After a bit you pick her up off her depressed ass and start a nocturnal adventure of refinding your past, adapting to who your becoming, overcoming self destuction, and slow burn babey!!! 

The Skeleton- Ulna. One of the few surviving warriors of a now destroyed kingdom and dead culture. She spends most of her time now traveling alone, hiding in trees and shooting anything see sees as a threat- which is everything- in the face with homemade arrows. Very much suffering from loss of her home and a bad case of lost purpose. A woman of few words, very antisocial, and naturally nocturnal.

 I came in with the Skeleton wanting to make her seem mysterious, so my first thought was immediately a cloak and a mask, but I wanted her face to like be visible so I went with the face paint. I didn't actually know that I wanted to do under there so I went with wraps that are reminiscent of the original outfit but still not tits out bc it's so fucking easy! Gave her a quiver, color picked the cloak and face paint from the in game model and the wraps from AT2'S art. I did like. Subconsciously draw her eyes the way I do Asian characters but I didn't have anything specific in mind so like go nuts with what you think she is.

 Ulna's deal is very much her lack of purpose or home and the entire thing is about finding that again. She's found sitting up in a tree during a storm pointing a bow and arrow into your face. She eventually let's you stick around until the storm is over and theres some bonding into deep night until the rain stops. You ask if she wants to come with on your little travelling sword for hire business, she says sure, sleep schedule shenanigans, backstory angst, and road trip bonding happens and she eventually decides that helping people is her new purpose and you're her new home

The Spider- Park. A young adult experiencing the world for the first time through her tribe's rite of passage. She's really just trying to figure out how to live life outside of the cave she's been stuck in her entire life and aggressively trying to be an independent adult despite not knowing anything about being an independent adult. Its projection. Blind in the daylight, naive and excitable, and taken to refusing help at her own risk.

 Ok so. I don't know who looked at the spider and said "purple haired loli with puffy pants" so I once again yeeted the whole thing, only really keeping the kinda cutesy and childish bits. Spiders are a tribe of humans what live in caves unless they've broken off to live on the surface. Kids are kept inside until they hit a certain milestone, where they come up to explore at night. They're usually small and pale, but are pretty kickass when necessary. Again picked the colors off the in game model, played with the lightest gray for the skin, and bc I couldn't figure out anyway to use the stripes so they're on the patches lol.

 Park's meeting is probably the funniest and most meet cute one here, in that she accidentally drops on top of you from a little cliff drop off. Cue loads of apologies and an explanation about the spider deal and being blind in light. She asks for some help getting around and bam babey friendship and emotional attachment! What follows is kinda a buddy of coming of age story with the obligatory goes home and is miserable scene. Generally it's just about being a scared young adult and having someone to fall back on and why that's important. Also crushes and young people being bad at that.

 The Blaze- Amber. A demonic entity who would let the world burn and the sun die if it meant she'd get her soul back. She's known for being ruthless, taking souls through force instead of making deals like other Blazes. Keeps this forceful nature even once she's become friendly, makes you do dump shit. Territorial, eyes glow and dim with her life, and runs remarkably warm.

 Amber here is the first one I actually did! I was just. Really tired that she was in a bikini. I decided early on I wanted overworld mobs to be human and everyone else was decidedly not, so Blazes are demons who gave up their souls under false pretenses to other Blazes. Because of how little clothes AT2's design wore I had essentially free reign and my thought was immediately to lean on golden knight bc of how Blazes are found protecting fortresses. The gold isn't picked from anything bc I was looser with the colors, but everything else is, and the hair is supposed to represent the smoke. Also the sticks in her hair are blaze rods bc I don't like them just floating around her.

Amber is found in the Nether obviously, protecting a fortress and immediately trying beat your ass and either incinerate you or make you give up your soul. During you prove yourself a p damn good fighter and she makes a deal to show you how Blazes exist and pursade you to give your soul up willingly. Bonding happens and she explains where the souls go and what happened to her. Insert line about how she dug in the sand for her soul until her fingers bleed bc I'm an Arcana freak lol. In general I'd just like her to learn to adapt to who she is now and learning to live life well instead of letting her anger burn her up from the inside out.

 The Enderman- Violet. A confused but sweet young bit of void created by and connected to the Ender Dragon. Her relationship with reality is tenuous at best and abusive at worst, making stable existence rather difficult. She doesn't know a name, age, gender, anything about herself aside from that she likes sweaters. Communicates primarily through psychic connections, docile and sweet, and melts like a witch in water.

 Violet was incredibly easy, so this may be way short. Endermen are decidedly human shaped void from the End with varying sentience. They're direct extensions of the Ender Dragon, and nobody knows how they're made or where they come from, not even they do. Adventurers who escaped The End say they seem scared of it though. Violet in particular is pretty damn new and extraordinary nonconforming, and I tried to show that with her sweater and ponytail. Once again, literally all colors picked. Definitely the simplest but one of my favs.

Violet is the sweetest meet up I think. As your traveling between villages you notice a strange enderman watching you and plant a little flower in front of her. She picks it and you hear a happy little trill come from you and a pretty voice say thank you in your head. Now you have a tall dark teleporting travel buddy! After a little bit of back and forth she tells you in some broken English that the Ender Dragon made her but she doesnt know how, and that it's bad and needs to be killed for the sake of Endermen and that's the new goal. Spoiler they're the corrupted souls of those that died fighting it, with it gone Endermen are free to exist as their own being and do whatever, hurray!