#it was basically nightmare saying that if dream made the “wrong” choice he would be more than happy to make him see the error of it

[stargazeraldroth]

Balanceswap: A Bittersweet Reunion

Summary: An event that takes place in my Balanceswap AU. After running away from the self-proclaimed Destroyer, Dream seeks out his twin brother. Though the two are glad to see each other after so many centuries, the reunion isn't quite as pleasant as Dream had been hoping for. At least Nightmare seems to be happy... maybe a little too happy... and Dream has Mental Health Problems (TM).

Warnings: Platonic yandere character, mental health issues.

Word Count: Around 4,281 words.

Dream wasn't sure if he was going to regret this plan or not.

He knew his life was far from perfect. He'd been aware of that fact ever since he was a child, living under the shade of the Tree of Feelings. Although life had never been anywhere near perfect for him, he enjoyed it regardless. Sure, some moments were harder than others, but he needed to keep going. That's what he's been telling himself since his days in the village, when he would get faced with hurtful words and thrown objects simply for existing. And it's what he still told himself now, when he was constantly on the move, hopping from one place to the next.

Dream looked up from the table, his hand coming to a halt. Everything was still quiet in the tiny, rundown apartment they'd moved into, save for noises coming from outside its thin walls. It wasn't like anyone would be coming by, anyway. This part of the town had been largely vacant for a while, from what Ink could gather. They would be safe here for a few days, assuming there weren't any unexpected searches from his brother's forces. It wasn't likely, given that this was a predominantly negative AU, but... they'd been caught off-guard before. And, from Ink had told him, Nightmare could be very, very persistent in his searches.

Nightmare...

He hadn't really seen his twin ever since that fateful day. Back when he was so naive and trusting, despite his own hardships. He still remembered it as though it was yesterday; how Nightmare told him to pick his favorite apple from the Tree, and even helped him reach the branch to do so. That same apple, black with purple undertones, now resided in his ribcage, concealed from the world. The last Black Apple remaining from the Tree's branches, just as the last Golden Apple resided in Nightmare's body. They had both changed so much since they were children.

Nightmare was now a prominent, highly influential member of the greater Multiverse. A high-ranking member of an organization that was simply referred to as The Council. Or, rather, that's what Ink referred to it as. Dream didn't know if it had a different, more official name. But regardless of what it was called, it was an incredibly important group in the Multiverse. It was significant enough for the Protector of the AUs to be involved with it, too, even if he technically wasn't an official member. But beyond that, Nightmare also had a group of his own. From what Ink told him and the bits he was able to gather from old newspapers, they worked to bring relief to those who were suffering. That was the simple version of it, anyway. He wondered... if Nightmare was able to move on from his bitterness regarding the village and its people.

Dream... wasn't sure how he had changed, but he knew he had to have. Even if it was something small and insignificant, he had to have changed at least a little bit. But maybe his changes weren't for the better, either. He didn't know if he was considered a criminal or not, but given his close association with Ink, it was reasonable to assume he had some kind of bounty. He hadn't done anything wrong, but... it seemed even existing was a crime when it came to him. Nightmare would tell him that it was only because mortals were stupid and didn't understand his importance, but even so...

Once he was done with his letter, he read it over with what lighting he could get from the moon. Everything seemed right... he just hoped Ink wouldn't be too upset with him when he woke up in the morning. Setting down the pencil, he grabbed the bag he'd prepared and headed towards the door. Resting a hand on the doorknob, he looked over his shoulder. The self-proclaimed Destroyer was still in a deep sleep on the couch, having insisted that Dream took the one bedroom.

Dream felt as though he was betraying Ink, in a way. He'd been nothing but kind to Dream ever since he initially rescued him from his brother's castle, even if taking care of another person was difficult work. Ink barely even had the means to properly take care of himself; aside from having to stay in rundown or abandoned apartments like this, they had no real way of getting any money. Ink insisted he didn't actually need to eat in order to live, so any food they did manage to get was given to him. He felt... bad. Like he was nothing more than a hindrance or inconvenience. It didn't help that he was one of the primary reasons they had to frequently move from one place to the next. His negative aura risked giving their location, should Nightmare be looking... and based on what Ink's told him, Nightmare was always searching for him.

I'm sorry, Ink... but I need to make this decision for myself.

~~~~

When Nightmare took the rest of the Tree's fruit and turned into... whatever he could be called now, Dreamtale- the world they called their home- changed with him. He could feel the oppressive intensity of positive energy as soon as he stepped foot through the portal. Though he cringed, he moved forward, determined to see his self-appointed mission through.

He wouldn't lie to himself, the place was beautiful. It almost looked like something out of one of the fairytales Nightmare would read him when they were children. Everything was so bright and colorful. It looked like a place where people would want to live- and, judging by the amount of people he'd seen so far, it was precisely that kind of place. Everyone seemed so content and happy, but maybe that was because of the abundance of positive energy. Regardless of whatever the cause might be, it brought him an odd sense of peace to know that his brother's domain had become a safe haven for people of different backgrounds. He wished he had been around to watch it all happen.

"Excuse me?" An ethereal, airy voice broke through his thoughts. "Are you lost?"

The Guardian turned around to face the one who spoke to him. Rather than being met with a human or monster, he found himself looking at... something else entirely. He wasn't even sure how to describe them. They appeared to be delicate and elegant, carrying themself with grace. Their eyes reminded him of a skeleton monster's, but rather than being met with dark sockets and glowing pupils, he found himself looking into what he could only think of as pools of warmth. A pair of pristine, feathery wings was attached to their backside, like those of an angel. The only familiar part of their figure was their uniform. It seemed to be a classical maid's uniform, with a skirt that reached their ankles and long sleeves.

"I... I..." Dream stammered, trying to find the right words. "I'm looking for... m-my brother..."

"Were you separated? I can help you find him again," the servant offered. "Can you tell me what he looks like?"

"W-Well... you see, um... he's... he's... N-Nightmare, the... Guardian...?"

Dream gave an awkward smile, hoping he sounded at least somewhat believable. He wasn't lying, but the idea of Nightmare having a younger brother could be a bit... unbelievable for a number of reasons. He didn't actually know what information was available about him. Did people... know about his existence? As more than Ink's little sidekick? He supposed the maid's response would tell him all he needed to know. If they didn't, then maybe that was an indicator as to how Nightmare felt about him now. Maybe... Dream should've thought harder about this before deciding to leave.

What if... Nightmare didn't want him around? It's been centuries since they last saw each other... Nightmare's life has changed since then. He had a kingdom and people to take care of now. Unlike when they lived in the village, Nightmare was willing to look after these people and take care of them. He shouldn't... have to worry about him, too. Could he even bring anything new to this place? Was there anything his presence or involvement would benefit? What good could negativity ever bring? Feeling negative emotions was inevitable, of course, but would it not be in everyone's best interest to minimize how often they feel them?

He wasn't sure when he had last been consistently positive- while it's true it isn't exactly in his nature, being made from negative energy, he could still feel things like happiness and love. But he didn't feel them as strongly as he used to, if his positive feelings were ever strong at all. There were so many people who felt those things stronger than he did. What could someone like him, who was a physical embodiment of unwanted feelings, possibly bring to a community? What could someone like him do to prove that he had a right to stay?

Nothing, he realized. His aura would undo everything these people worked to achieve. Even if he had an iron grip on his aura at all times, keeping as much negative energy trapped in a bottle as he could, he had his limits. It wasn't helped by the fact that he had hardly any training when it came to his powers. His abilities were completely different from Ink's. Without proper training to control his aura and minimize its effects, he would continue to hurt people simply by being around them. He posed a risk to their happiness and well-being merely by existing. Coming here was a mistake.

He'd be nothing but a stain. A constant reminder of their pain and suffering. He needed to leave before he could hurt anyone, and before he intruded on Nightmare's new life.

Dream flinched when he felt something touch his head. He looked up from the ground, trying to meet the servant's eyes. He hadn't even realized he started crying. He must look so stupid and pathetic, crying in a place where he wasn't wanted in the first place. But there was no sign of contempt or disgust on the servant's face, nor did their aura become darker. If anything, it became... lighter? He didn't think it was possible.

"You're Dream, aren't you?" The servant asked, giving him a kind smile. "His Majesty has been looking for you."

Dream took a step back, reaching up to rub away the tears in his eyes. Ink told him that Nightmare was, but... how likely was it that the reason behind that was something good? If it wasn't for something bad, then why was Ink so insistent that they move locations before he could find them? He'd taken notice of Ink's tendency to get paranoid and resort to extremes, but Nightmare was his brother. Surely Ink would be able to take that into consideration, even with his anxieties... unless he had a good reason to suspect that Nightmare would want to hurt him.

If there was one thing he learned from the villagers, it was that people didn't need to have good reasons to hurt others.

"Young one, where are you going?" The servant asked. "You do not need to be afraid. I will not bring you any harm- none of us will."

Dream shook his head. "Don't lie to me! You... you're just pretending to be nice!"

Before he realized what he was doing, he turned on his heels and ran in the opposite direction, away from what he could only describe as a servant made of light. He barely registered the servant's voice as they called out to him, too focused on returning the way he came and escaping from this place. If he was lucky, he would be able to make it back to that AU before Ink could wake up and read his letter. It was a slim chance, but a chance regardless. He just needed to get out of Dreamtale, preferably without having Nightmare tracking his every movement.

Unfortunately, it seemed his escape wouldn't be as smooth as he'd been hoping for. A knightly figure, tall and shaped like a skeleton monster, stepped out just in time to block his exit. He wasn't sure how the others at the castle found out so soon. Was there some sort of telepathic bond? It sounded highly unlikely, but... well... according to Ink, he was still around the mental age of a child. However relevant that statement was. The important thing was that more people were becoming aware of his presence, something that could end up spelling disaster for him. Not only were more knights starting to show up, but those Light Servants were as well. How were there so many of them!? They were... too similar to each other, almost like perfect replicas. It was unnatural.

Despite the fear pumping through his bones, Dream could feel his energy and strength beginning to drain. Normally, his soul would be able to provide him with the minimal amount of negative energy he needed to keep himself going. But the structure of Dreamtale- and its emotional balance- was drastically different from what he was used to dealing with. There was simply too much positive energy for his soul to counter, and its effects on his body were already showing. He could feel himself slowing down, the aches in his legs growing by the minute, if not the second.

Finally, his legs gave out under him. He groaned in pain as he tripped on his own feet, falling against the hard pavement of the walkway. By the time he managed to pull himself together, the others had caught up to him. He threw his arms over his head, preparing to shield himself from any incoming blows. It was a survival tactic he'd learned and used back in the village.

But instead of being met with violence, he was carefully pulled close to one of the servants. He slowly opened one of his eyes to glance at his surroundings, finding that the ones who caught up to him were whispering things to each other. Though he couldn't catch everything over the pounding in his head, he did hear them inquiring about Nightmare's whereabouts. The Light Servant glanced down at him, taking notice of his drained condition. Standing up from the ground, they adjusted his position in their arms, almost like they were holding a baby or a cat over their shoulder.

"Shh... it's okay, little one. Just close your eyes and rest easy," the servant said in that same sweet, soothing voice. "Does the sunlight hurt your eyes?"

Dream gave a small nod. It wasn't necessarily the sunlight that was the problem, but... regardless, the servant shifted their wings so that one was covering him, blocking out the sunlight from his eyes. A warm feeling washed over his body a moment later, seeping into his bones. Achiness turned into exhaustion and, with some gentle coaxing from the Light Servant's embrace, he drifted off into the blissful darkness of sleep.

~~~~

He couldn't feel his body. Not like he should be able to, at least. Something about it was... different. That much was clear in how he struggled to open his eyes, or how there was a certain numbness to his body.

When he finally managed to pry his eyes open, he found himself in a completely different place from where he fell asleep. It didn't take long for him to figure out that he was in a bedroom of some kind. The bed itself was bigger and comfier than any he'd had before, and it felt... clean, if that made sense. He tried not to be too fussy about this kind of stuff, considering he used to sleep on the ground as a child, but sometimes he could tell the beds he slept in weren't taken care of for a long time. Still, it was better than sleeping on the hard floor, so... he wasn't used to having a blanket that was this thick or warm, either. It was... nice.

"I see you're awake." A hand reached out from his bedside, brushing a finger against his cheek and poking him gently. "Did you sleep well, brother?"

'Brother'.

Reluctantly, Dream looked to his side. Next to him, there was a radiant figure much like those otherworldly servants he encountered before. Nightmare was watching him carefully and, though his one visible eye held nothing but warmth, something was peculiar about his aura. It was brimming with positive feelings- happiness, most notably, but also eagerness and love. There was even a hint or two of satisfaction. But behind that, there was something else... something darker... was he concerned for him?

"Don't look so confused. Did you think I wouldn't be worried about you?" Nightmare asked. "You're not used to this kind of environment. Your soul's response to the change was to turn your body to stone. It's a miracle you even woke up at all."

"... Where am I?" He asked in return.

"You're in your bedroom. Did you think I wouldn't take care of you?"

"I don't... what? Why would I have a...?"

"... I've been hoping you would be able to live here someday, you know. I admit I might have gotten a bit carried away with it and prepared a room in advance... but it turned out to be the right thing to do! You're here now, with me... where you belong."

"But... I... I have to..."

"You have to what, Dream? Right now you should be resting. Your body's going to have a significant loss of energy due to how much positivity there is."

"I need to... let Ink know I'm okay..."

In his goodbye letter to Ink, though he said it would be possible he'd come back depending on what happened, he also said that- should he decide to stay with Nightmare- he would still try to keep in touch with him. Nightmare didn't seem to be quite pleased with this information, his expression turning unreadable for a moment. With the lack of expression, Dream turned to his aura, trying to latch onto anything that might indicate his mood. But what was previously readable (to a certain extent) was now rigid and harsh, like an invisible wall. The older twin moved to pat him on the head, a smile returning to his face. But it didn't have that same warmth to it. As though it was simply for show rather than actually meaning anything.

"We'll talk more about that later. For now, just get some more rest until you can adjust to the environment."

Dream watched in silence as Nightmare stood up from his chair, headed over to the door and left the bedroom. He could hear the faint sounds of a conversation between him and some others, perhaps some servants or something, but he couldn't make out any specific words. Hopefully, the 'later' that he spoke of wouldn't take too long... Dream didn't want to sound impatient, but it was... kind of urgent. To him, at least. He knew Nightmare had other priorities and things to take care of.

Actually... now that he thought about it, he didn't necessarily need Nightmare's help in writing a letter to Ink. Maybe he would need his help when it came to delivering the letter, but he could at least get his message started, right?

Time seemed to prove him wrong.

Whenever Nightmare was absent from his new bedroom, there would always be at least two of those special Light Servants on standby. They would tend to Dream's every need if he asked them to do so. Even though he never asked for anything, the servants seemed to take it upon themselves to provide him with whatever they could. They were so proactive and attentive that he didn't even need to ask them to do anything; any potential wants or needs were taken care of before they could even be realized. The only request that couldn't always be immediately fulfilled was when he wanted to see Nightmare. It was understandable, given his brother's position and responsibilities, and he didn't mind having to wait. And yet, despite his insistence that it was fine, the Light Servants were always far too apologetic for the inconvenience.

Whenever Nightmare did come to visit him, Dream tried to bring up the subject of delivering a message to Ink. But whenever he did, Nightmare either pretended to have not heard him or changed the subject. It was strange. Almost as if Nightmare didn't want him to say anything to Ink ever again. While it made sense from Nightmare's perspective, with Ink being the Destroyer and all, he knew there was more to Ink than that. It wasn't like Ink was malicious with his destructive behavior or intentions. From Dream's understanding of his motives, anyway.

"Nightmare, I want to send a letter to Ink," he said again. "I already have an idea of what I want to say. I just need help delivering it."

"You're still pushing the matter? Oh, Dream..." Nightmare sighed. His tentacles coiled for a moment, expressing his displeasure. "Don't you realize it yet? You don't need to talk to Ink anymore. The only person you truly need is me."

"But... he's my friend." Frowning, the smaller Guardian tried to sit upright. Being bedridden sucked more than having to sleep on a dirty, old mattress. "I promised him I would let him know I'm okay."

"But why would he care?"

"... What?"

"Think about it, Dream. You're the Guardian of Negativity and he's the Destroyer of Worlds. He's a wanted criminal on the loose, a horrible influence! But besides that, he was only using you. I know who you are- despite everything that's happened to you, from the villagers to Ink, you still have a good heart. You don't like violence or fighting, and you especially don't like hurting people. All Ink does is hurt people. You know what the Omega Timeline is, correct?"

"Y-Yeah... Ink told me about it..."

"Then I'll assume you're aware of all the displaced people living there. People who were forced to relocate to a new home because of Ink. How do you think they felt? While it is true that negativity is necessary, there's a good kind of negativity and a bad kind. Just like how there's good positivity and bad positivity."

"... You don't have to talk to me like I'm still six."

"Well, I don't know where you are in terms of mental age."

"But... but Ink does care about me! I know he does! He's been looking after me this whole time! He's made sure I'm fed and he's been trying to help me with my powers! If you just let me, I can show you he isn't as bad as you think!"

"He's wreaking havoc and destroying worlds because of one temper tantrum he threw in the past. I won't say The Creators are saints or have pure hearts- that's an impossible feat, even for someone made from pure positive energy- but they don't control how Ink or Error live their lives. That's for them to decide. The Creators can make worlds, write a guideline story, and make changes as they please, but we have our free will. Everyone gets to make choices in life, and Ink made his."

"But he has his reasons!"

"And the villagers had their reasons for how they treated you. Does that make their actions right?"

"W-Well... no, but-!"

"It's the same for Ink. How many people has he hurt or killed, Dream? How many people have had their families torn apart and their lives ruined because of him? You need to think about these things. His actions aren't excused just because he's hurt by The Creators' choices."

Nightmare let out a heavy exhale, reaching up to rub the space between his eyes. When his hand fell back down to his side, he gave Dream a small smile.

"I don't mean to make you upset. But you need to realize that Ink isn't someone you should be associating with, regardless of what he might've told you about his motives."

With that, Nightmare looked at the clock in the room.

"It's almost your bedtime, anyway. Here, I'll tell you what: I'll... bring this up to Error after the next meeting with the Council, okay? We'll see what he has to say about it and if he thinks it's safe to do so, then I'll let you send him a letter."

Dream thought for a moment, but soon nodded. "Okay... but you have to promise! Pinky promise!"

"... Of course, Dream."

The two brothers locked their pinky fingers together for the sake of the promise. Once the younger Guardian was put to sleep, Nightmare stood there for a moment, watching over his sleeping form. When he finally left the bedroom, he was met with one of the Light Servants, as his brother fondly nicknamed them.

"Your Majesty, about the promise... do you truly intend to keep it?" They asked. "What should we say if the little one asks?"

"... No, I don't intend to keep it," Nightmare confessed. "Dream's heart is too big for his own good. Ink can't be trusted- that much is obvious to anyone. He'll just have to live with how things are going to be from now on. How things should have always been."

The two shared some more brief words before Nightmare finally departed for his own chambers. As he walked, the Guardian of Positivity couldn't help but think about everything that had happened. A smile came to his face, but no one would be able to see the glint in his eye. He truly hadn't been expecting Dream to come back to Dreamtale on his own. He thought he would've had to take him by force. Perhaps it would be a bit harder to keep him around, given his insistence on staying in touch with Ink, but... Nightmare had faith. Dream could be gullible and naive, but he wasn't stupid.

In the end, Dream would make the right decision. He was sure of it.

[lover-of-mine]

Let's talk about this and patterns in the show, shaw we?

Okay, so Buck wearing green here is stressing me out now. I have a really long meta in Buck and green and red clothing (you can read it here), but I'll explain the green side of the point here if you don't want to read that. Basically, Buck wears a lot of red, enough for it to be a stable color for him, and red's complementary color is green. He's usually on the reds, pinks, and oranges.

The point of a complementary color, is to create contrast, and they used green on Buck in the coma world, so we would feel like something is wrong even if we can't quite figure out why.

They made a lot of choices about his wardrobe in the coma dream that just looked weird, up to getting him black vans instead of the usual white hightops, and that creates a contrast with the usual Buck that's unsettling.

Why is that relevant? Well, green is his something is wrong color. The coma world being the most blatant example because that sweater is green, BUT he wears green during breakups and when he's doing misguided stupid shit in the name of love. The breakup with Ali, the breakup with Taylor, and I will throw in the graveyard as a breakup with Eddie, because that's the feel of the scene and he's wearing green, but technically he's just being an idiot about love.

He's also wearing green when he takes Red to see Cindy, subsequently when he talks to Maddie about how it feels to always be left, when he's hiding at Eddie's place because he doesn't want to confront Taylor because that would lead to them breaking up and he's not there yet, and when he is trying to convince himself Abby is coming back (this last one really confused me but I did color picked a palette out of that shirt and that's green).

But if we established enough of a pattern to say he does misguided shit when it comes to love, like inserting himself in Red's love life, saying this random woman he met 5 minutes ago really sees him, trying to convince himself the women who fled the country is coming back to him, then Buck wearing green with Eddie is worrying.

Because if you look at the conversations they have in the firehouse, they are usually close to the point but still need something else to truly fix the situation, they hiding something or holding on to something they shouldn't, and it goes from the first fight at the gym with the way Buck is making his insecurities about Eddie and not really working through what's really bothering him, after the lawsuit, they do clear the air but Eddie is still hiding the whole fighting thing and the fighting thing actually makes Eddie flinch away from Buck, when they are talking after the dinner with Buck's parents, Eddie is trying to have a conversation but Buck wants to hold on to anger, when they are talking about the panic attacks, Eddie shuts Buck out because he doesn't want to admit Buck is right yet, and when they are talking about Chris having nightmares, Eddie is fully taking the blame for Chris missing Shannon, even if that's something completely out of his control and that eventually even leads to Eddie quitting and the thought process starts there.

So they always involve one of them wanting to have a conversation but the other not being fully ready to be honest about everything so they are talking but they are not on the same wavelength. They also always end with one of them walking out.

I have a really long meta about the framing in a lot of their big conversations (you can read it here if you want all the thoughts), but basically if they are on the same level, as they are both sitting down they are usually talking about Eddie.

Because when they are talking about Buck, Eddie is usually standing up and Buck is looking up at him. (I have a meta on the looking-up thing if you feel like reading more thoughts on that)

And if they are discussing their relationship, they are face to face.

Random add on, if they are talking about Chris, they are usually sitting side by side on the same surface in a sense, yes I'm counting the counter as one surface lol

So signs point to the new stills being Buck forcing Eddie to talk about something he's not ready to talk about. But when you add the green while Eddie is not wearing blue, so the green is not about the blue and green thing, (I have a meta on the blue and green thing in general and it applied to buddie too that one is truly unhinged tho), and the way talks at the station mean holding on to something they shouldn't and the still of Eddie talking to Bobby, this conversation can very easily be a moment of tension.

AND, I know I'm not the only one who saw those stills and immediately thought about the panic attacks conversation, BUT, stay with me because now I'm reaching, the graveyard conversation tries to call back to the dumb luck conversation (I also have a meta on the graveyard that touches on that if you want thoughts)

But basically, similar outfits and angles, locations we never saw before and probably will never see again. But, while the equine therapy talk works to give Eddie hope and bring them closer together, the cemetery has the exact opposite effect. It creates space between them.

If we consider this and the way it seems to be calling back to a conversation that led Eddie to do the right thing about Ana, they could very much be calling back to that just to do the opposite and having Eddie refuse to listen to Buck for whatever reason.

Because one thing about the dumb luck conversation is also the movement, they are walking, the camera is moving, the conversation is moving and they are making progress, something we don't feel in the cemetery because they are in the same place, the conversation is not leading them anywhere besides away from each other.

And the conversation about the panic attacks that happen while Buck corners Eddie while Eddie is trying to sleep, so Eddie will be in a more relaxed state than when Buck is walking in wearing civilian clothes and Eddie is so deep in his workout he's glistening with sweat, so Buck is walking in on Eddie with a completely different energy. And assuming conflict to the point Buck feels the need to corner him in the gym? That means fight.

This is a very long way to say divorced era 2.0 is upon us lol basically they are arguing and it's about Eddie refusing to listen to Buck about something. Maybe even love related.

If you reached this I love you 🫶

If you liked my brand of crazy, you can find all my metas here.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I once read a fanfic somewhere a few years ago where Nightmare—Corrupted and Passive—were two different people, and something happened that made Passive come back of course as his 6 year old self and Corrupted was still trapped in his head, talking to him.

And like passive knew something was wrong but didn’t know or remember anything, feeling like Dream and the rest of the Stars were hiding stuff from him.

Anyway the fanfic ended with the Murder Time Trio ganging up on passive and beating the poor kid until Corrupted came back in like a bout of desperate group hysteria.

I distinctly remember killer being so terrified going back into stage 1–as if being that way, feeling those emotions, was something he believed to be a genuine threat to his life—that he believed he needed corrupted to not be that way. Codependency 🤝 Killer!Sans, it’s just like that.

Shit was well written but crazy. Many times I found myself just having to pause and think because holy hell these guys are fucked up. And I think that author, whoever they were because I sure as shit can’t remember anymore, did a good job at showcasing that.

And if I remember correctly this was made in the era where everyone thought Killer’s tear goop was hate, so I’m pretty sure “determination” and “stages” weren’t used in reference to killer, but the writing was interesting and still something I can potentially see happening. (Some parts at least)

There also another fanfic, maybe it was a sequel this one I don’t know, where st1 killer basically went “fuck you, I’ll do my own thing” to both nightmare and color and attempted to run off on his own.

But his process was always hindered because nightmare always reverted him back into Stage 2–who didn’t care about escaping or about being “fixed” or being “sans again.”

It was interesting because nightmare was written as if he desperately wanted some emotional response from killer and also didn’t want him leaving him and would also never ever show or admit to wanting any of that at all, but stage 2 was never capable of giving him exactly what he wanted besides not expressing any desires to leave, besides being convinced that he needs Nightmare.

I remember there was beef between Cross and st1 Killer, where cross had a stick up his ass and used the shit Killer did in st2 against him, and st1 was like, “at least you had a choice and you still did the same shit I did. So what’s that say about you?”

I also distinctly remember Cross and st2 Killer being sent on a mission together by nightmare, and killer was already so unstable that when they encountered an au of Chara, he completely lost shit, I think was triggered into something like st3, and started brutally attacking them.

[abhainnwhump]

Continuation prompt of the Driller plotline: Dream walks away ranting about how Cross always needs someone to take care of him, that he insists on eating ramen with a spoon because it is soup, that he gets drunk off of chocolate milk, that he doesn't eat or drink anything unless someone puts food in front of him or he is more mentally well than usual. Dream says he has to prep all his meals and lists off everything he thinks will be useful for taking care of Cross.

Before he knew it, he reached the exit. (By just sticking the wall. lol)

-Gothic Ribbon Anon.

First Part

Dream kept his eye sockets closed as he stumbled through the halls, a mix of pain, exhaustion, and anger. One hand stayed on the wall so he wouldn't get lost. The angry thoughts about Cross stirred.

"He just . . . left me, when I needed him the most, when we had to stick together." Dream whispered to himself. He had to keep his temper in control. He couldn't lose it and become an easy target. Yet despite his best efforts, his thoughts twisted. They did so much for everyone all the time, and especially Cross. "He would have never made it without me. I helped him into the guard. I helped redeem him. I helped him get into therapy. I loved and supported him for years. And this is how he thanked me?"

Deep down, he knew he was angry at the wrong person, but he couldn't help it. "Ramen is not a soup! Why doesn't he understand that? He's the top of his class and still can't figure that microwave ramen is mostly noodle! How could he have such a high IQ and still not come to the most basic conclusions?"

"And I'm always the one needing to remind him to take care of himself because of his stupid ego! He'd pass out on the battlefield if I didn't tell him not to starve himself! Ergh!" Dream kicked the wall, only hurting himself in the process. Nightmare's malice crawled on the floor behind him, trying to corrupt him like it did Cross and Blue. Dream ignored it. He didn't need it, he didn't need Cross, he just had to go home. Could they manage to hide from Nightmare when this was over? Or would he lie about the rules and kill him anyways? Or would he send one of his friends to kill him? Send Cross-

No, they had to focus. His attention had to go to the big objective, not the little things. Dream kicked the malice out of the way and kept walking along the wall. He took the pressure off his eye socket. The labyrinth shifted again and he took the left path, though his heart wanted to take the right. Whatever felt right was the wrong choice it seemed.

"I don't need him, I don't. I can't save any of them. They're gone . . ." Dream muttered to himself. Their eye socket stayed close. They followed the path, barely caring where it took them anymore. Their hand never left the wall. But then, the wall was gone. Dream stepped out in a open field. At first, he assumed it was a trap, another illusion. But the cold air tickling his bones told him otherwise.

"Oh." Dream paused as he looked down at the green grass below. A portal's shing echoed in the distance. Silence, and Nightmare's teal eye flashed opened. Killer, Horror, and Dust teleported behind him. Dream peered behind himself before focusing back on his brother and Ribbon, who tilted his head. His aura grew terrified.

"Dream . . . well then. I wasn't expecting you to escape." Nightmare took a double take, confused with a hint of nervousness. He took note of his bloodied eye; his smile returned. "I see you didn't get out unharmed."

Dream's eye socket twitched at his twin's sheer arrogance. How dare he snuggle with his former best friend who he turned into a husk of his former self, how dare he take all his loved ones away. Dream pulled out his two daggers and charged with rage.

[scrip-doodles]

Nightmare and his baby gang Chapter 2

1-

Hi so new update on the chapter on Tumblr! Hope you’ll like it for those you didn’t read it yet.

Saying that Nightmare was lost would be an understatement, he wasn’t just lost he was freaking out, not that he show them his emotions, he never did. All the children were around him and he could feel a hungry Horror trying to chew his tentacles. Okay so first get them food. Easy you would say, except that it was Horror that cooked all their meals and that now he was like five years old or something. Wait, how old were they? Nightmare looked at his gang trying to determine how old they could be. They looked so small and fragile, especially in those oversized clothes. He’s going to need to find stuff for them starting with clothes, they can’t just keep wandering around with those. They were too big for their new tiny body, what if they fall and hurt themself? He can’t get them to work like that but that’s not a reason for them to be hurt, besides he hated the sound of crying children.

When he got to the kitchen with small baby bones on his trail like some duck mother and her ducklings, he started searching for something they could eat that would be quick to cook. Pasta seemed like a nice choice, he could add some ketchup to it, they liked it before when they were basic sanses so they should still like it right?

The guardian could feel the intense looks of his gang while he was cooking their meal, a familiar and uneasy feeling crawling on his back. He moved his shoulders like it would make it go away, he wasn’t a big fan of people staring at him when he couldn’t see them. There wasn’t any sound except those of the pot, are kids supposed to be this quiet? Nightmare remembered that Dream was way noisier than that, maybe they were afraid. Cross seemed to be when Error was still here and that they were about to fight but there was no fight anymore.

Nightmare lowered one of his tentacles to grab the cooked pot and put their meal on plates in front of the boys. Seeing that they ate the pasta made him feel a little lighter, at least they were eating.

“So uh…do you remember anything about this place?” Asked Nightmare, hoping that they had at least a few memories.

They lifted their heads from their plates pretty quickly after the question, like they weren't waiting for it. That made Nightmare wonder if for them everything was normal in the situation. Little Killer looked at him like he was speaking nonsense, they all did.

“We live here with you Mister. It’s like that since uh…forever I think” The smile that his first henchman always wore began to fade after saying that and Nightmare sensed fear from all of his gang.

“ Yes, I know that! But don’t you notice something strange now?”

That made Nightmare a little anxious didn’t they know what was wrong since they remember living here with him? Why did they call him “Mister” then, they always call him Boss or Nightmare.

Seeing their faces they didn’t find anything weird, Cross even looked around them like he changed the wallpaper or something. So they knew him but called him “Mister”, everything was normal for them and the only weird one here is him. Great, just great.

“I don’t see anything strange except that we have big clothes but uh we live here with you mister! You took us from bad places and brought us home!” Said Cross like it was evidence, he looked worried about him when Nightmare looked at him.

Now it seemed like they were going somewhere, so basically they remember that he took them here and were familiar with him and the place. He could work with that. Now he needed to know how old they were, Horror looked smaller than the other, and Cross bigger.

“ Good. I know that too, don't worry Cross. Now I need to know how old you are, all of you.”

They all appeared to be surprised by his question. He never asked them when they were adults but now he had to know, to make sure that they won’t get hurt or anything and that he will get everything they could be needed. He’ll have to take all the knives and weapons out of the manor, urgh.

“Uh…I’m six, Killer and Dust are five, and-”

“I’m four!!” screamed happily Horror with pasta in his mouth. At least one of them was at ease.

Unsure of what to do, Nightmare patted his head as if to say “yes good job”, this was so awkward… The others were even more surprised than before which made Nightmare frown. Wasn’t it like this that you take care of children, by petting or hugging them and giving them food and toys and also love? He didn’t exactly do this for his henchmen before but they were adults they didn’t need it right? Or did he mess them up like he messed everything with people before?

“Is the black glitched bad guy gone for good?” Asked Cross playing with his fork without looking at the guardian.

Nightmare wasn’t sure of what he could say to cross, Error had to come back with the solution to their problem but the kid was afraid of the glitch, Nightmare could sense it. The fight must haven’t helped with that.

“Not when I’m not here, you won't be alone with him and I don’t really like him going around my house so better not come back before he found what I asked for”

Well, he didn’t really ask for it but Error understood that he needed it and go on his own so it should be okay. Cross looked a little better after he said that but fear could still be felt from him, it won’t go without time, the ex-soldier was never really comfortable with the destroyer anyway.

“Okay, well uh it’s late now so it’s time to go to bed. Come with me” Said the guardian when they finished their meal.

He couldn't let them sleep in their rooms, they were full of weapons and other stuff clearly not for children, so he brought them to his room. His bed was big enough for all of them now so by the time he “cleaned up” their room they could sleep here.

“Alright you sleep here tonight, your rooms are uh…under reparation because of an accident”

Again surprised looks were all over their faces when they saw his kingsize bed, come on he wasn’t that bad with them! Right? He got them out of their own hell and gave them food, a home, and a purpose that was good of him! Heck, it was too good from the King of negativity! He was supposed to be evil and cruel, not caring about a bunch of kids. But then why did his heart shake when they acted like that? He didn’t understand.

“We are sleeping in your bed? Like for real? Asked Dust with a little voice.

It was the first thing he has said since the accident, his voice was so soft. Before all of this mess Dust was sure of himself and made sure that everyone knew that, that was what caused most of his battle with Killer. But now it looked like he wanted to disappear in the oversized hoodie he was wearing. He was hiding in the bottom of his hood avoiding every eye contact.

“Yes now get in there and close your eyes I have some work to do”

That seemed to be the kind of answer they were waiting for because they all jumped under the blanket and wished him a good night. He looked at them for the last time and closed the door to let them sleep.

“Good night”

[tru-ho]

so i’m rereading acowar and it’s at the part where feyre sees elain and az and wondering if the cauldren could make mistakes in putting people who don’t belong together as mates. disregarding the can of worms w elain’s mate, i had thought of another fanfic idea that i will never fully flesh out and write.

but basically it’s a nessian angst. where nesta still thinks about the concepts of mates and essentially not having any choice and regardless of how she really feels about cassian, she’ll still choose him bc of the bond. anyway, w that in mind, she comes across this witch while out across illyria to save this other women who had requested their highlord’s help. she and az go on behalf of rhys. nesta doesnt know she’s a witch, but the witch basically gets nes to talk about something she really desires. at this point nesta has everything. elain and feyre are happy and she’s happy with cas. gwyn and emerie are also content and the valkyries are growing in both size and strength. sometimes though she just has that anxiety over the fact that she didn’t choose cassian and neither he chose her. they were chosen for each other. so then after making sure the witch is safe, she reconvenes with cassian but she feels dizzy and lightheaded and she blacks out.

then she feels cold, darkness, and the void. she’s back in the cauldren. she thinks it’s a nightmare, she stills her mind, she hears muffled sounds, but she focuses on her body, on her senses. she thinks that everything feels too real, too detailed, to be a dream. she’s then pulled out. out of the cauldren and she sees the scene back when she was made. back to the worst days of her life. but it felt different. felt like something was missing. she has this terrible feeling in her gut. she sees elain on the ground, lucien hovering. feyre crying out. the horrible, wretched, mortal queens watching with wicked smiles. she sees cassian, his wings. her heart lurches but it feels feint. like it only lurches in memory. she calls out to him and he tries to go to her. he can’t. something is wrong. something has gone terribly wrong.

this isn’t a dream. this is real. this is reality. she was too focused to trying to get out of the “nightmare”, too focused on calming herself that she didn’t take from the cauldren. she didn’t have her death powers. her silver flames were still inside the cauldren. as if sensing what she realized, the cauldren did something, she passed out.

she wakes up in the house of wind, in her room. she tries to talk to the house, no answer. rhys and mor visit, saying there’s food. reluctantly she goes if only to see cassian. cassian, who’s wings had been badly hurt, cassian her mate, cassian who had always been her friend, the one who would help her through whatever this is. something is different, she is different, and not just that she’d recently been turned fae. she helps him recover, to everyone’s utter surprise. she actually becomes helpful. she seeks goes to the library, seeks out gwynn but in increments as to not freak her out. she also find emerie. she just wants her friends. even though at this point they weren’t. she didn’t even have the house. while cassian recovers, she trains with him. she helps elain. who is also different this time around. nesta thinks elain knows that this isn’t where nesta is supposed to be.

one of the more important part though is that despite his flirtatious advances, nesta doesn’t feel the bond. they are not mates. they werent chosen for each other. she is less mean to him this time around though. occasionally flirting back, to his utter surprise, but still having that banter. she has her memories of them being mates. she thinks this time they are not, but she’s okay being with him despite it. when feyre gets back from destroying the spring court, and they go to the high lord meeting. nesta meets eris.

and oh boy she definitely felt that mating bond. she wasn’t as oblivious this time around. wasn’t as avoidant in the original timeline. he feels it too but is reluctant, not thinking too much of it, knows not to hope. she ignores him regardless because she knows him. knows how horrible and wretched he is. she thinks it is better to avoid and hope to never see him again. until rhys and feyre need eris. elain mentions her dancing abilities, and her ability to woo and make any guy fall for her through the dance floor. they persuade nesta to get eris to fold. she really doesn’t want to but knows how the story will unfold. they do need him.

she meets eris again. there’s no denying of the bond. her body yearns for him and it makes her sick. why tf is she mated to this fucker. she gets not having the death powers bc she was preoccupied while in the cauldren, but it had chosen nesta and cassian first. it was cas and nes, not nesta and eris, how is it that mates can change? in their first dance, eris has decided she is going back with him to the autumn court. one way or another, today or next year. he doesn’t care how long it’s going to take, whatever it’s going to take but he will do whatever to be with his mate. even if that includes betraying his father and teaming up with the night court losers.

in the sidelines, cassian is having a panic attack. he watches them dancing. everyone else had stopped to watch them. noticing how perfectly they seemed to fit together, how her blue flames swirl with his red, how the way he looks at her as if she was the sun moon and stars. how she doesn’t seem to hate him despite telling her what cas knows. he wants to stop them, he’s not thinking and his body takes him to them. he hears rhys, ordering him to stop. cassian doesn’t. but seconds later, a few feet before them, his body stops walking. rhys is using his powers to physically stop cassian from reaching them. the music stops and cassian can move. he goes to interrupt the two. despite not wanting to, eris gives her to him.

eris talks to rhys. nesta and cassian talk. he’s nervous. super fucking nervous. he makes small talk. something about the hor d’oeuvres. she gives him this one last dance. cassian barely keeping up. afterwards, she takes him someplace not too crowded but still in the room.

she tells cassian, eris is his mate. she can feel it. and so can he. cassian’s face is solid, but his eyes well up.

yeah so angst central right. things happen. nesta feels obligated to stay with eris. despite wanting a choice. against her better judgement. against her instincts. she gives eris a chance. only bc he lets her stay in the house of wind for a while. eris fucking hates cassian and vice versa, but eris knows if he picks a fight, he’ll lose her. so he plays good guy. he tells nesta of his plan to get rid of his father so the autumn highlord title goes to him. but he needs help. even wo her death powers nesta’s pretty powerful. instead of the silver freezing and deathly flames. the cauldron had originally granted her blue flames that burn hotter than ever. she helps him because honestly fuck the autumn court and also she sees how genuine he is. how his walls came down just for her. how vulnerable he is with her. she’s mean but she isn’t evil. this eris is quite different from the other eris. she think she could be okay with this new reality. things are working out. she feels contented. eris crowns her higady of autumn. but she goes back to the house of wind one last time. and she sees cassian.

her world as she knew it just falls apart. he’s wearing his illyrian fighting armor. his siphons seem to glow, calling out for her. his hands into fists at his sides. his eyes filled with yearning. he cocks a smirk, “hello nes”.

and basically then and there she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to the autumn court. apparently rhys had been ordering him to be scarce when nesta was still wondering if she should choose eris. cassian had been temporarily stationed in windhaven until nesta is officially with the autumn court.

so long story short though, despite eris having this kind of redemption. nesta still chooses cassian. despite the bond, despite what the cauldren decided, she chose cassian. she sees the witch again. and the witch brings her back to the original timeline.

she’s back to being mates with cassian and is content. but then she sees eris still waiting for beron to die and notices something that she had never seen before. something that if she hadn’t gone through what the witch put her through, she would not have seen or even looked for. a feint glimer of a bond. not a broken bond. but a bond that should have been made but was not. nesta considers that while she was in the cauldren, thrashing and pulling and biting, grabbing whatever she could. she may have also erased her original bond with eris and wrote the one with cassian. essentially going back to the idea that before she was even made, she had chosen cassian. and cassian, with his declaration to protect her and her people, had equally chosen her.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he’s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 67: Soulmate (Take 1)

Harry had really great plans for the day that Ginny Weasley turned 18.

He was in the kitchen at Grimmauld making breakfast when she came bounding in through the front door and down into the kitchen.

"Hap-" he started before she had jumped into his arms and kissed him.

With a happy sigh he wrapped one arm around her waist and the other through her long hair and kissed her back.

"Happy Birthday," he finished but she wasn't paying any attention. She had pulled back and was looking at her arms and hands.

"Where is it?" she muttered.

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

She tugged her shirt off over her head to look at her torso.

"Gin, maybe not in the kitchen," Harry started to say, "Ron and Hermione will be down for breakfast any-"

"Do you see it?" she asked quizzically, turning to show Harry her back.

"See what?" he asked.

She shook her head, "My soulmark."

"What?" Harry said, even as Hermione came into the kitchen.

"Hermione," Ginny called, "do you see my soulmark?"

Hermione came over and looked at her back and hummed, "No, sweetie."

"Are you sure?" Ginny whispered, still scouring her front. Ginny looked over at Harry, her eyes desperate, "Did one show up for you?"

(Read more below the cut)

"One what?" Harry asked. "Can someone tell me what is going on?"

"I was so sure," she whispered before she burst into tears.

"Ginny!" Harry said, feeling alarmed and completely lost, he pulled her into his arms and held her close, "Tell me what's wrong," he begged but Ginny didn't say anything at all.

He looked over her head at Hermione, silently entreating her to help him, but she just shook her head.

Finally Ginny seemed to compose herself. She took a few deep breaths and pulled back. "Right," she said, wiping her tears. "I'm going to go. It's probably best if we don't see each other for a while."

"What?" Harry asked, his head spinning, he was dreaming. He had to be.

She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I'll always love you, Harry," she whispered before turning and fleeing from the room.

Harry stood there, completely dumbfounded until the smoke alarm started going off and he looked over to see that the bacon he'd been working on before Ginny arrived was nothing but charred stubs.

He vanished the bacon and set the pan off of the burner before turning to look at Hermione who was watching him with pity in her eyes. "What the hell just happened?" he asked.

-------

So, soulmates were a thing. Apparently.

And Harry couldn't help but wonder why no one had ever told him that once you and your soul mate were both 18 a soul mark would appear on your skin after you kissed, signalling that you'd found the person you were supposed to spend forever with. What was even the point of Hogwarts if they didn't teach you about basic things like soulmates? And honestly, why hadn't Ron and Hermione said anything at the very least?

It took Ginny less than three months to figure out that Blaise Zabini was her soulmate. He tried not to resent her for it, he wanted her to be happy, of course he did, but Harry was still painfully single and had no real interest in trying to date. People never saw him as just Harry, dating would be a complete nightmare.

She'd asked him to be one of her groomsmen for her wedding about six months after they'd broken up and he'd said yes, what choice did he have?

It was a terrible decision, really, even if you were only considering the fact that they'd been dating mere months ago but there was also the unfortunate fact that Draco Malfoy was one of Blaise's groomsmen so he had to see him all of the time.

They didn't fight constantly, like Harry had suspected they might when he'd heard that Malfoy was going to be part of Blaise's party but there was always this weird sort of tension between them.

He couldn't seem to stop watching him, or thinking about him, and so he did the only thing that made sense to him. He decided to become his friend.

"Hey," he said, plopping down next to Malfoy at a planning brunch when the wedding was about six weeks out.

Malfoy looked around before looking back at Harry, "Are you talking to me?"

"Yeah," Harry said, popping a grape into his mouth.

His cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink before he said, "Ahm, hello, then."

"How are you?" Harry asked.

Malfoy looked at him, "I'm fine. Are you concussed?"

Harry laughed, he couldn't help it, "No."

"Under a spell of some sort? Potion, perhaps?"

"No," he said, "Don't be ridiculous."

"Of the two of us, I am not the one behaving abnormally."

He sighed, "Look, I just," he trailed off not sure where that sentence was going, "I want to get to know you. It's weird and whatever but I'm just really curious about you, all the time."

"Ah, sixth year all over again," Malfoy said, taking a drink of his mimosa.

"No, nothing like that. I don't think you're up to anything sinister," Harry defended. "I'm just curious." Then he raised an eyebrow, "Admit it, you're curious about me, too."

"I'm no such thing."

"Come on," he said, nudging the other man with his elbow. "I've caught you looking at me almost as many times as you've caught me looking at you."

Malfoy huffed but the corner of his mouth tipped up, "Alright, fine. I'm a little curious. But don't let it go to your head."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

---------

After two weeks of being friends with Draco Malfoy, Harry basically wanted to spend every waking moment with him. Draco was dramatic and snarky, he had sharp sense of humor that often left Harry in stitches.

"So I told him," Draco said, recounting a tale from going shopping for dress robes for the wedding, "that white was for the bride."

Harry giggled, sipping his pint, "And?"

"He told me that Ginerva informed him that she'd be wearing a green dress."

He nodded, "We picked it the other day."

"And when I asked him why, he said it was because she wasn't a virgin but he is."

"Wait, really?" Harry asked, brow furrowing.

"You didn't know that Ginerva wasn't a virgin?"

His skin heated, "Err," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "not that. I knew that because that was..." he trailed off, clearing his throat, "My fault, actually."

Draco looked scandalized.

"Oh, don't give me that!" he said, shoving the other man's shoulder. "Everyone was a mess after the war. I was just surprised that Blaise isn't."

Draco flushed, "It's actually fairly common among pureblood circles to wait for marriage."

"Wait," Harry said, "Are you-" he started, then stopped himself, "Sorry, you don't have to answer that."

Draco straightened his shoulders, "So what if I am?" he asked defensively. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"No," Harry agreed hastily, "Nothing at all. Sorry. Just that infernal curiosity."

"Maybe it would have been different," Draco said softly, like a confession, "After the war. If there was someone that I'd been in love with, like you and Ginerva were."

He took another sip of his drink before replying, "Well, like I was, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head, "Nothing, I'm happy for her. Just," he trailed off, "It's going to sound awful."

"It's just me," Draco said softly.

Harry gave him a little smile, "There's no 'just you' about you."

He huffed, clearly not taking it the way Harry had meant it.

"She just moved on really fast, you know?" He shook his head, "One minute I think we're happy and in love, the next she's telling me that I'm not her soulmate and breaking it off without even a conversation."

"What kind of conversation were you hoping to have?" Draco asked curiously.

"Like if this soulmate lark was really that big of a deal. I mean isn't it possible that I could have made her just as happy?" he asked.

"It's not just about being happy," he said.

He sighed, "Fine, but couldn't I have loved her just as well?"

"Maybe," Draco said, "but soulmates are more than that. They're the one perfect compliment for your soul. Soulmates match in every conceivable way; it's not that they'll never fight or that everything is perfect, it's like," he trailed off, like he was trying to put something difficult into words. "When you can see the water and the sky meeting, like when they blend together so that you can't quite tell which is which and that's okay because they're made of the same thing."

"Do you know who your soulmate is?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head and took a sip of his drink, "I'm not sure people like me get to have one."

"People like you?" Harry asked.

He raised his left arm, "I already have a mark, maybe one is all I get."

"In that case," Harry said, tapping his scar, "Maybe one is all I get, too."

"It's not the same."

He shrugged a shoulder, "you didn't want yours anymore than I wanted mine." Draco was quiet for a minute so Harry bumped him with his shoulder, "If it does turn out to be the case, I'll grow old with you if you'll have me."

----------

In the last month leading up to the wedding, Harry and Draco were pretty much inseparable to the point where people started to ask if they were dating.

They weren't, of course, but it put the thought in Harry's head and he found that he couldn't stop thinking about it.

He watched Draco throughout the wedding, the way his eyes misted over as they were saying their vows, his huge genuine smile when they were officially wed, the wistfulness on his face when toasts were being made. Harry's heart felt like it was somersaulting in his chest.

After Blaise and Ginny had their first dance, people were invited to join them on the dance floor and Harry couldn't take his eyes off of the other man. "Draco?" he said and he genuinely couldn't remember ever being this nervous.

"Hmm?" the other man replied, watching with a little smile as Blaise spun Ginny.

"Will you dance with me?"

Draco's head whipped around to look at him so fast that Harry was worried about his neck. "What?"

He swallowed, "Would you dance with me?"

"Why would you ask me that?" Draco asked. "Are you making fun of me?"

"What? No!"

"Oh, look at pathetic Draco Malfoy, everyone!" he hissed. "No one will ever love him, but I'm Harry Potter and I take pity on all sorts of sad, pathetic creatures." Draco stood up and glared at Harry, "No, thanks. I'm not in need of rescuing today."

He stormed out and after a pause where Harry tried to figure out what had just happened, Harry chased after him.

Draco was making his way down the walkway, "Bloody stupid Manors with stupid anti-apparation wards."

"Draco!" Harry shouted.

"Stop!" Draco begged, turning to look at him. "Please. I know you're trying to be kind but it's tearing me to pieces."

Harry froze in place and held out his hands like he was trying to sooth a startled creature, "Listen to me. Please," he added. Draco didn't reply but he didn't move away either. "I'm not trying to be kind or take pity on you, or whatever," he said. "I genuinely wanted to dance with you."

"Pfft," Draco huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why?"

"Because I like you," Harry confessed. "I thought that would have been obvious by now."

"You like me," Draco repeated incredulously like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"Why do you find that so hard to believe?"

There was a pause as he seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he exploded, "Because you are Harry Potter!"

"And?" Harry asked, then he took another step toward him, "Draco, it's just me," he whispered, echoing the sentiment that Draco had said the last time they had an emotional conversation.

"There's no 'just you' about you," he murmured, shaking his head as a tear slipped down his cheek.

Harry reached out and brushed the tear away, "I really like you," he whispered.

"What if you're not my soulmate?" Draco breathed. "What if I let you dance with me, I let you kiss me but you're not the one for me? How can I-"

"It doesn't matter," Harry said fiercely. "We can just be together. Surely everyone doesn't find their soulmate."

"But won't you always wonder?"

"Won't you always wonder about us if we don't at least try?" Harry returned.

Draco bit his lip but then nodded. "Kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me," he repeated. "I need to know. I can't possibly let myself get any more attached to you if I can't keep you."

Harry cupped his face with both hands and kissed him softly and the moment their lips touched, it felt like something was igniting deep in his soul, his body coming alive and humming at the touch.

Draco must have felt it too as his body surged against Harry's, his hands grasping Harry's waist and pulling him in tighter against his body.

When they broke off panting, Draco rested his forehead against Harry's, "Does kissing always feel like that?"

"No," Harry whispered, brushing his nose over Draco's.

Draco's thumb rubbed over Harry's hip, "I'm afraid to open my eyes," he confessed.

"It doesn't have to matter," Harry said.

"But it matters and we both know it."

Harry groaned and pulled back, "Okay. Where would it be?"

"Could be anywhere," Draco replied, looking at his hands and arms, "But it's most commonly on your hands or..." he trailed off as he pulled up his left sleeve, "arm," he whispered. "Harry."

Harry looked over at him and saw that flowers had bloomed across his forearm where his dark mark had been.

"Your scar," Draco gasped, trailing his fingers over Harry's forehead.

"What?" Harry asked.

A tear slid down Draco's cheek, "It's my constellation," he whispered.

Harry tugged him in close and pressed a kiss to his chin. "I guess you were right," he said.

"About what?"

"I guess we do only get one."

---------------

Day 66: Bond | Day 68: Rain

Okay, so I genuinely love the soulmates trope and it was super hard to write this as a ficlet! I needed more words! Anyway, this one might get fleshed out in the future (and I have a Soulmates chapter fic that's already halfway done). I don't feel like this is my best work but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway! xo

Related note: I wrote a second ficlet for this prompt. I imagine that the people who sent me the prompt were hoping for something along these lines, but here's what I might have written if this was a generated prompt. Day 67: Soulmate (Take 2)

[melodiesofblueroses]

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘓𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

♡ ━ Obey me, Headcanons

»»————————-　♡　————————-««

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Lucifer x reader, Mammon x reader, Leviathan x reader

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: Fluff

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: the older brothers find a love letter addressed to them

𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘱: gn!reader 

»»————-　♡　————-««

✦ Lucifer

he finds the letter on his desk one day, although he doesn’t pay much mind to it given that his desk is always swamped with paperwork

figures that it’s just another form to fill out and hand in to Diavolo, so he sorta just brushes it off to the side until he can make time to get to it

when he finally gets to opening it, however, Lucifer is taken aback

he didn’t think anything could surprise him after having lived thousands of years, but he certainly is shocked to see a handwritten confession (he didn’t like the feeling and tries to deny it)

immediately recognizes your handwriting since he had to read your RAD homework and other forms given to the human exchange students

plus, you did live with them now, so Lucifer got pretty used to your way of speaking, which was undeniably yours given the letter

skims over the letter multiple times, not because of the disbelief of being confessed to, but because he just loved the surge of pride he felt after reading it

i mean, here was this human confessing that they were in love with him

of course they were in love with him, the one and only avatar of pride, strongest demon second only to the prince and king themselves

Lucifer was practically the only choice given the other contenders (he really did love his brothers, but they were just a bit much at times)

smugly smiles to himself and stores it in a drawer as a keepsake, although it was mainly because he wanted to get the chance to reread it whenever he liked

when you two cross paths again, he’d pull you to the side

“by the way y/n, I quite enjoyed your letter”

he kept his cool, or rather he couldn’t hide the smirk on his face, which would only fluster you since you had no idea what he was thinking

was he going to reciprocate your feelings? reject you? make you grovel and beg for him to never tell anyone of it? how did you fall for him again?

“o-oh”

“I accept”

with those two words, Lucifer would walk out of the House of Lamentation as he made his way to RAD, leaving you behind at the house as you tried to process what had just occurred, 

you mentally cursed yourself once you broke out into a stupid grin, knowing full well that the demon had wanted to fluster you, and you had fallen straight into his plot

»»————-　♡　————-««

✧ Mammon

the letter is sitting on the hood of his car that was in his room (you still have no idea how he managed to bring one indoors) but it takes him a few days to realize it’s even there

he doesn’t really have the best perception, so even if he does eye the letter, it won’t register in his mind that there’s a letter sitting atop his car

(you start to worry that you may have given it to the wrong brother or not given it at all)

when he finally does realize that it’s there, Mammon will most likely think it’s some note from the witches he still owed money though

just the thought of them makes him shudder

so he’d put it to the side once again, until he sees the little heart sticker on the opening, which makes him automatically flustered

and the next thing he knew, Mammon was ripping open the letter and reading its contents, turning redder by the minute

someone loved him? like not in a friendly way too?? 

well, I mean, of course. he was THE great Mammon after all. the one and only

Mammon doesn’t even notice that it’s your handwriting, so he’s just hanging on to this letter that he thinks is from a secret admirer and doesn’t bring it up to anyone

meaning that you don’t even know if he saw or even received the letter, and the waiting was eating you up on the inside

confessing was already stressful enough, and now you don’t even get a response?? this was practically a nightmare

one day, you get too anxious from waiting so you decide to confront him about it directly

he tries to say that he has no idea what you’re talking about, but the blush on his face says it all

“w-what love letter? I dunno what yer talking about...”

“Mammon, I see the letter sticking out of your pocket”

tries to brush it off all as if this was a daily occurrence for him, but he was basically a stuttering mess so you knew better

“soo, do you accept?”

“of cour-I mean, if that’s what ya want then sure. I am THE great Mammon, and of course ya would fall for me, so I’ll be generous and play along”

that was one of his qualities that made you fall for him 

»»————-　♡　————-««

✰ Leviathan

when he first finds the letter at the bottom of his bathtub, Levi is convinced that it’s a cruel prank at first

there was no way that someone would even like Levi, the nasty, yucky otaku who spends all his time trapped in his room playing games or watching anime

forget that he’s one of the strongest demons and grand admiral of hell’s navy, he was a good-for-nothing freeloader and-

“ugh, let’s just get this over with,” he mumbled to himself as he tore open the envelope and quickly scanned over the letter

although he was convinced it was a prank, Levi held a tiny bit of hope, just the tiniest bit, that maybe it was genuine. he just didn’t want to get his hopes up to have them viciously crushed in the end

the letter, to his surprise, seemed rather genuine?

although Levi didn’t interact with others much, he could still tell when a person (or demon) was telling the truth

he did live thousands of years after all and experienced so much

immediately, Levi would get flustered and start shaking a bit from all the excitement

someone actually loved him?? this was a scene ripped straight out of a romance manga no doubt about it

him, the social recluse that never interacted with others much, finally having a s/o. gosh, it didn’t sound right at all, but oh did it feel so good

Levi would reread it over and over again, each time his heart beating faster and louder than before as his cheeks got progressively warmer

he never wanted this feeling to end. if this was a dream, he wanted to stay and revel in it

it takes a good few minutes of thinking and analyzing, but Levi is able to figure out that it’s you who wrote the letter

and he’s over the moon, especially because you were his crush, and his feelings were reciprocated

this truly would make for a great romance manga

immediately goes to you in order to confirm that you were, in fact, not lying and trying to pull a cruel prank on him

“um...y/n? so, uh, about the letter, were you, uh, ya know, being serious?”

poor guy, he was he nervous

“of course I was,” you reassure him. “I poured my feelings out into that letter. I’d never lie about something like that.”

once he got your confirmation, he’d go red once more and try, keyword try, to say that he felt the same

although it came out as an incoherent jumble, you perfectly understood him and smiled, happy to know that he felt the same

when you kissed him in response, Levi swore he felt his soul (do demons even have souls?) leave his body, and he practically malfunctioned, although he did gather up the courage to kiss you back in response

he was just too cute

[phoenixyfriend]

Thoughts on “Auntie Soka and Little Leia” now that I’ve actually got it posted:

Call it a director’s cut! The process of actually writing the thing, and also jokes made along the way. Link to the actual fic.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy for image descriptions, even the text screenshots. Might come back that later. Most of this was DMs with @atagotiak​.

This was an entire thing before I even started writing:

Before I decided on ages and stuff Ahsoka, to Jango, who has had zero contact with Kaminoans: Okay I know I'm a Jedi kid so you hate me but this toddler is your clone from the future. Jango, tired: What the FUCK are you talking about. Rex, barely able to talk: Don't you dare leave me with him, Commander! Ahsoka: I'm not going to leave you I just--I'm so tired I'm so fucking tired I haven't slept in five days and someone tried to kidnap Leia two days ago I am so fucking tired I need help

Ben: [twenty years of depression followed by a 'now I'm safe' breakdown over the course of weeks] Sokari: [whatever the FUCK this mess is]

When Ahsoka mentions there only being three other Jedi at the time of her death,  I was thinking Kanan, Yoda, and Obi-Wan (Leia told her about the latter two living past her). She's not counting anyone that received training after the Temple fell, and she didn’t know about Cal.

When Leia says  “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

Depa: I'm no therapist but I diagnose you with "incredibly fucked up." Ahsoka: yeah, that’s fair

"Why did you pick Depa for--" She's pretty and I'm gay. Also because of the Kanan thing But mostly I'm gay "It's not a visual medi--" GAY

Empty of context beyond general post-fic AU: "Hey Sokari, we need to engage in psychological warfare against this individual and--" "I'm going to break into his office and leave a threatening note on his desk and leave no other sign that I was there. He'll see that his security is nothing and the only reason he isn't dead is because I'm too nice to kill him." "...okay, not what we were planning, but that works. Why is that your first choice?" "I really like breaking and entering, it's soothing." Ben just standing there with a bland smile like This Is Normal.

"We need someone to infiltrate a highly guarded facility in hostile territory." "So we're sending the Torrent kids?" [sigh] "We're sending the Torrent kids."

Rex and Sokari insist on both going by "Torrent" even though Rex could be a Fett. Jango really wants him to be a Fett. Rex has too many grudges to agree to being a Fett for... a while.

I really hope it's blatantly obvious that Ahsoka's not a reliable narrator for some things Ahsoka: Fett could care less if I died Jango: jfc even if you are older than me I can see you're fucked up. Drink your hot chocolate. Hells. She's got good reason to expect him to hate her as a Jedi! BUT. THAT IS NOT REFLECTIVE OF REALITY

We don’t get a lot of actual characterization for Jango, but the way I played him out here is he has never really parsed that Jedi are people before all this. It's a lot harder to treat them as a monolith when the traumatized former child soldier is having regular breakdowns in your shitty little kitchen

Fett: I respect you Ahsoka: No, don't do that

Ahsoka’s vigilantism is something that, in my mind, she's associating heavily with Zygerria and then the clones.

I figured that she never bothered to learn Quinlan’s teacher’s name but in the process of looking up some basic facts (whether he had a surname), I found that Wookiepedia was forced to give us a VERY wide range of possible death in Legends.

Please take a moment to imagine Quinlan's FACE when Ahsoka initially dismisses him. Quinlan has put a lot of effort into being rogueishly charming! It's very useful for his line of work! He knows to expect either irritation or a return flirtation when he acts like this with people his own age! Ahsoka is not flustered OR rolling her eyes and insulting him, she's just ignoring him and it's a bit of a blow to the ego

This just makes me really happy:

This was the initial comment I made, as a joke What if Maul is just. There. On one of the planets they make a pitstop at. What if Maul exists as the walking problem he is, but fifteen, and Ahsoka immediately tries to kick his ass and drag him back to Coruscant. I do not have room for this plot but What If

Despite not having room for this plot, I proceeded to write this plot.

Maul is kidnapped and it’s the best thing that ever happened to him HE'S FIFTEEN HE'S DUMB AS SHIT AND HAS A BAD ATTITUDE AND YEAH HE'S A DARKSIDER BUT HE'S FIFTEEN

Ahsoka: I sense... Maul [takes off sprinting] Rex: [immediately takes Jango's blaster and runs after her] Jango: Wait who Tholme: Who Quinlan: Who Jango: [looks at Leia] Leia: I don't know who that is either! Ahsoka, already wrestling a teenager to the ground: Oh no, you're a child, REX STUN HIM AND GRAB THE CUFFS, I'M SURE FETT OR THOLME HAS SOME

Fighting him isn't even legal, they have NO evidence of criminal wrongdoing, so first she needs to yell until he admits to something she can fight him about

Ahsoka: When I see Maul, it's on SIGHT Maul: WHO ARE YOU

Ahsoka: The Force didn't give me hands just to NOT throw them when I run into That Crafty Son Of A Bitch

Ben, when they arrive, after the tearful reunion: You... you brought Maul. Ahsoka: Well, yeah, he's fifteen and kinda dumb. I figured we could drag him here and force him into therapy, see what happens. Ben: I can't quite tell through the gag, but I think he's threatening to feed you your own spleen. Ahsoka: Lol, yeah.

Ben is absolutely on team "get Maul therapy" and will fight the Council on rehabilitating the baby Sith But also it's like. Here's your daughter! And your niece! And your daughter's QPP! Also your best friend, but baby, and his teacher, and the biological origin of a number of people you cared for deeply! AND ALSO THE GUY WHO SPENT LITERAL DECADES CRAVING YOUR DEATH, FOR SOME REASON

I just really want Ahsoka lovingly bullying Maul She gives him noogies and the horns don't protect him because girl has reinforced gloves

Maul's only allowed a low-power training saber and his fights with Sokari involve Much Taunting by her and Eventual Screaming by him, and everyone pops by to see: 1. Sokari doing the most absurd flips, for fun. 2. The bullshit that is ataru-shien reverse-grip jar'kai in the hands of someone who makes it work 3. What a Sith lightsaber form looks like 4. Just the general nonsense that is the way these two fight

Tia said “Wrt ridiculous flips. I'm remembering that time she beheaded four Kryst'ad at once.” and I just Rex brings up the quadruple beheading at one point to get someone to stop asking questions and the awkward, horrified silence almost makes him regret it. And then Sokari just snorts and makes a joke about how Rex once speared a slaver point-blank and everyone's just like hello??? "are you two okay" "no"

Maul absolutely starts crushing on Sokari after a 'sword under chin' moment and she's just very "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you're fifteen, bye" GO MAKE PUPPY EYES AT OBI-WAN OR SOMETHING

The crushes are the worst part of everything, really, she's an attractive young woman that can kick a lot of ass, and a lot of people are into that! Unfortunately, most of those people are a decade younger than she is, mentally, because all the people her actual age look at her and see a child on account of the 17yo body.

It’s almost a good thing she’s in no place mentally for a relationship.

I just want Ahsoka to wear beskar.... I think that would be Nice........

This AU is also what caused this post.

I'm deeply enamored by the idea that Ahsoka can win fights against "older" padawans pretty much unilaterally, even when they team up 2v1 And then she offers to fight 5v1 "But only if I have permission to fight dirty." Ben approves it, a horror show full of "I fought many wars and will scream in your face or kick you in the balls if that's what it takes" follows She wins. There are no permanent injuries, but her reputation certainly gets weirder. Nobody under the rank of Knight agrees to let her fight dirty again. She just lets that stand because, well, she's not actually a padawan, she's thirty-three.

I’m not going to write this but my brain was EVIL and suggested it:

IT WOULD BE REALLY SAD IDK maybe 9yo Anakin has nightmares about what's happening to baby Ahsoka because bullshit about time-traveling force bonds IDK ANYWAY he cries to Sokari about the nightmares and she's like "oh shit" and it's time to go rescue herself from motherfucker unlimited

It's either that or she's like, expecting to welcome mini-me aaaany day now, for like, several months, before she realizes Something Went Wrong. Anakin’s dreams could even start right as she’s starting to realize something’s off.

Obi-Wan has never had a padawan that doesn't at some point bite Even Luke will, when pushed

OH also once the twins get Baby's First Lightsaber (training sabers, not real kyber), Sokari begs to borrow them for a dumb joke and tells Rex to get on her shoulders for a "Grievous Greeting" and they do The Thing

Jango and Ahsoka wrt Quinlan is just “Do I need to beat him up for you” “You realize I’ve beaten up sith lords before?”

JANGO'S TRYING He's just. "Can we be friends? Can I--can I be the guy that just noticeably gets in the way of a creep on the subway so you can be more comfortable without someone making a scene? I'm fucking trying here, give me a hint."

We didn’t actually figure out Jango’s age until this point. The only reason Fett's age matters is for Quinlan making a Wild Oats quip after Jango says he didn't know about Rex until a few weeks ago, and Fett going "How old do you think I am? And how old do you think the kid is?" and Quinlan getting Very Awkward as he does the math. Rex overhears and lets Quinlan sweat for a bit before saying "I'm a genetically-modified clone someone grew in a tube, he didn't know or have reason to know until he saw me with Sokari." Which is like. Eight additional layers of WTF, obviously, but at least Jango gets to avoid awkward wild oats jokes

Like, you’d expect the rebuttal to be ‘he’s my brother just with a biiig age gap’ or ‘he’s my nephew’

I find it very unfortunate for Quinlan that I've decided his defining characteristic in this context is going to be repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth

He’s trying so hard but "That sounds like a cool thing, maybe I'll ask ab--and it's another fucking trauma."

I'm doing Ahsoka&Jango t w i c e (there’s another fic where I’m doing it)

It’s just a fun dynamic! So much resentful respect.

Like she's twenty seconds away from calling him a bitch at any given time and he's just there like "I don't like you but I do see you move like you're about to tell an entire building to get on their knees with their hands in the air and I can respect that" Also she's probably much less judgmental about using blasters than Obi-Wan is The Maul subplot actually started with me daydreaming about Ahsoka grabbing a blaster for Reasons

I like the idea of Jango just deciding the most Useful thing he can do is help teach the Smol how to fight. He's AWKWARD around Rex and Soka because he doesn't know if there's anything he CAN teach them.

I didn’t actually plan for Tholme to figure out the age thing, he just SAID it and I had to sit there like Wait.

Ahsoka, Rex & Leia: ahhh, children Tholme: you say that like you aren’t children

I liked getting to write Rex's little "I have worked with all of them, and they're all Terrible" He loves them But They once got stranded on a planet that didn’t exist and Ahsoka died and Anakin killed a god.

There was research and discussion as to whether Ahsoka could win against Tholme but seeing as she held her own against Vader, and fought Grievous at that physical age without dying, etc.... yeah, the only thing holding her back was her body not being what she was used to, and she’s had a few weeks go adjust.

“I miss being able to just jump off skyscrapers” is such a jedi thing

Jango: I'll take the gun back if he tries to leave, they can't get far before--WHAT THE FUCK He knows Jedi are scary but he’s still not really used to just how over the top ridiculous they are He knows how to deal with Jedi in battle, not Whatever The Fuck These People Are Doing

Rex isn't even a Jedi, he's just so used to working with them. “Oh yes time for free-falling without a parachute again, same shit as always.”

Tia: I’m imagining Jango freaking out and Quinlan and Tholme being like. Concerned but mostly exasperated Clearly if they’re jumping off buildings it must be serious? But jfc they could’ve maybe communicated a bit more?

Leia: I want to finish my juice Tholme: Quin, stay with her while we go figure out what those two are doing. Quinlan: Wait what

Jango: Oh now he’s jumping off a building too??? Tholme: Sokari, you are not registered! You can't legally jump out windows yet! Jango: What the hell is going on? Is this normal?

We don’t necessarily know how often Ahsoka and Maul ran into each other after Mandalore. There was the later thing on Malachor, but other than that I'm just going with the idea that they ran into each other every year or two and just went for the eyes like feral cats

Ahsoka: I need to kick ass and you're coming with me. Rex: Yeah, okay. [several minutes later] Rex: Whose ass are we kicking?

Ahsoka and Rex

Neloms aren’t a SW fruit to the best of my knowledge, I just wanted to mess around with lemons/melons

Jango: you didn’t think any of this through, did you? Rex: you were there, you know we didn’t "When the Jedi says to jump out a window, I jump out a window."

Tholme’s real composed about stalking the ancient nigh-mythical enemy of his people, very “Life is already so goddamn weird”

This fic has been so heavy on the trauma but then I introduce Maul and suddenly it's the worst kind of comedy Nobody is competent, everyone's a little dumb, the bad guy is just grocery shopping

My propensity for banter has turned this into a six-person buddy cop comedy about Maul buying grapes They spend a significant amount to time ineffectually stalking Maul before Quin suggests the sensible option Quinlan just "You remember this is my literal job and specialty right"

Ahsoka sees Maul and all her brain cells go out the window except "Fight good" Usually she doesn’t need to worry about doing things legally. Maybe she needs to worry about someone seeing her do illegal things but she spent the past 15 yrs in a place where her existing was illegal

I feel like he’s also maybe kinda wanting to reassert that yes he is competent. Bc like. Ahsoka’s been kinda condescending this whole time and also can beat everyone up so. It's not his fault that he's actually the youngest person there, but.

Jango is finding this whole being friendly to Jedi thing a lot more overwhelming than he thought it would be. And overwhelming in different ways.

Maul usually signifies things getting worse and more horrifyingly tragic but he's just a dumb teen that they needed to arrest for his own good.

Quinlan: Look, I'm useful! Ahsoka: I've been through hell, wanna hear? Quinlan: NO. I DON'T. WHY.

Quinlan: I understand the concept of joking about your traumas, I do it sometimes myself! But sith hells that’s a lot of trauma.

Quinlan just wanted her to treat him as a Competent Individual, and here she is whipping out stories about Dying and Gods and the Force insists it's the truth and he just???? And apparently emo darksider over there is a Sith. And just, sure. Why not

A lot of people’s interactions with the time travelling disaster lineage is just

Tholme and Fett arguing and  Ahsoka's just waiting for a moment to pop in with "Hey, when's the last time either of you worked with the other's culture before this mess? Yeah, that's what I thought."

Much like Leia and Ahsoka hurting each other earlier, and Tholme figuring out the de-aging, we ALSO have Fett’s confrontation with Ahsoka being something the characters just did, rather than something I planned.

FTR the only time I managed to trigger myself while writing this fic was the “your behavior isn’t actually acceptable and we’ve all been trying really hard to give you room to recover but you have to at least make an effort to not be a bitch”

Writing about people having PTSD and symptoms of such: Yay! Writing about people having PTSD and engaging in toxic behavior to cope: Shit Ahsoka had... basically my exact reaction. It's "remind yourself that you're in the wrong, that they have a point, and then be overly formal in the apology because fuck if you accidentally make them feel sorry for you when they're the injured party"

Quinlan: Can we be friends? I mean, you're an asshole, but you're really cool. Let's be friends. (He MIGHT be nursing a crush) (Neat mysterious girl who can beat him up.)

Also he realises she's probably nicer when not having a slow-motion breakdown He's like "Huh, you'll probably be less of an asshole once you've gotten therapy."

...also, she pretty and got Nice Biceps

I love writing a good mental breakdown

I was so close to including a "he tried to kill me" just early enough for Jango to wildly misinterpret as her thinking Quinlan tried to kill her. He'd have been very confused, considering Quinlan's the one that called them down in a panic and currently has Ahsoka having her massive breakdown in his lap But

Tia:  I could see Jango interpreting it as idk, Quin resembling someone or for a moment acting like someone who tried to kill her and she had a flashback or something like that

There's absolutely room for a couple reasonable interpretations there And "trapped in a flashback about someone who tried to kill her" is absolutely what's happening! Just. You know. For a different reason. Jango probably wouldn’t assume Quin would hurt her, for one thing he seems to like her, for another even if he did he’s smart enough to pick a way that wouldn’t be so likely to get him caught

I had to step back and actually say “Also I'm just. Wow. I'm really just shoveling QPP Rex&Ahsoka at full speed”

Me, a few weeks ago, joking: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist Me, now, entirely seriously: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist

Me, belatedly: Oh, Ahsoka being joyfully mean to people was a form of mania she was unconsciously using to build a barrier between herself and her impending meltdown

She went from "just died" to "in charge of Rex and Leia" in like. Two minutes.

Confession: I've been delighting in the mental image of this whole Mess leading Jango to try to retake Mandalore, and Ahsoka loans him a saber for a 1v1 to get the darksaber.

“Can’t I just fight him barehanded? That’s how I did it on Galidraan.” "But the drama, Fett!"

Probably Rex has learned how to use a saber as well, because you never know when you have to borrow a weapon

I later changed my mind to Jango asking her to help, rather than her just sneak-teaching him, but it was funny.

Background nonsense to all this is Ahsoka and Rex, despite Rex being as force-sensitive as a lump of coal, having developed a process where she can extend her sensitivity to him mind-to-mind for weird symbiotic battle trance that scares everyone around them. It’s very similar to Battle meditation.

CONTEXT FOR LEIA BEING WORRIED ABOUT THOLME HIDING THINGS: Tholme is hiding the fact that the Council reached out and told him that the people he picked up might be connected to Ben and Luke, who showed up after the Depa thing but a solid week and change before Jango's ship makes it to the Temple. They asked that he not share that information to avoid getting anyone's hopes up in case the two situations aren't related. Ben and Luke haven't shared enough information for anyone to really be sure if the other three are connected Because the info Tholme has isn't quite the info Jango has, etc. And they can't just say Ben is a future Obi-Wan over comms

I just have a lot of feelings about people trying to do something right and just. Nobody's at fault! Not really! It's just complicated!

Tia: I like how when Ahsoka isn’t doing maladaptive trauma response stuff she’s very mature. And of course she’s had to be but it’s a good like, contrast. Where when she slows down to think about things she’s very sensible

Jango just spends most of this story lowkey wanting Ahsoka to Be His Friend but there's too much baggage that he's only metaphysically responsible for

Local aroace(?) has a squish

Ahsoka: He just wants to get on my good side because of Rex. Jango: I'm pretty sure you could kill an entire army without trying but you wouldn't because you have actual morals and stuff... and when I met you it was because you were killing yourself trying to keep (what appeared to be) children safe... you seem cool please be my friend.......

Ahsoka’s #1 weakness: mountains of trauma Ahsoka’s #2 weakness: she just doesn’t get why so many people think she’s cool and want her to be their (girl)friend

Jango, a 27yo massacre survivor who's killed Jedi masters with his bare hands: [gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly]

Ahsoka was raised in a religious meritocracy but developed all her opinions during a galactic war and then became a vigilante spy, Rex comes from a military cult, Leia is from an inherited monarchy that participates in democracy, Quinlan was originally from what appears to be a dynastic dictatorship, and IDK about Tholme other than that he is also from the religious meritocracy. And in legends Quinlan came to the religious meritocracy after his aunt sacrificed his parents to a vampire cult and then forced him to experience the psychometric echoes of that. There's just. A lot going on.

Leia at least has knowledge about structure and admin in theory that isn't based in either the military or populations under 10k

Jango: I want to be your friend. Ahsoka: Sounds fake.

I am unfairly fond of "Rex destroys a conversation by bringing up his own horrifying childhood and calling it a cult"

"Why does Sokari call you 'Rex'ika'?" "Because she's older than me." "...can I--?" "No."

Nickname privileges are extended ONLY to Ahsoka and older clones. There are no more older clones, so it's just Ahsoka.

Me joking about Star Wars AUs: Would you like a crackship? Me writing actual Star Wars fic: My favorite character type is apparently “too traumatized to have a relationship” so this is at least 90% gen.

I had to pull a scene opening at one point because Ahsoka's skill with not getting shot is actually much less useful than Tholme's clearance levels.

Now I really want a team-up of Ahsoka, Rex, and Jango where they do have to get in a dogfight of the "she flies, we shoot" variety and Fett just has to scream because the speeder thing to catch Maul was one thing, but this....

Ahsoka, before TCW: I know all the traffic rules but I'm not that great at flying! Ahsoka, after TCW: I'm great at flying but if you let me behind the wheel we are absolutely getting arrested.

She went from "knows the rules but doesn't have the skills" to "has the skills but primarily in the form of not getting shot" which! Is delightful! "Bet I can get us through that alley--" "DO NOT"

Jango and Ahsoka are both just very "Is this friendship? Is this camaraderie? My heart's been fried on platonic love by so many murders that I'm not sure anymore." "I've lost a lot of friends. I kind of forgot how to make those."

I have no idea if "hasn't been closer than Alderaan except that one trip to Chandrila" is canon-compliant but ehhhhhhhh It feels plausible enough?

Belatedly realized that I could just explain my optimal Rex&Ahsoka dynamic as just... drift compatible. It's vague enough on the specifics while still digging into the meat of what they mean to each other and how they work together. The terminology is already in existence. I can just use it.

Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Doesn't matter! They're drift compatible.

They are important to each other and that is what matters

I really like the Leia&Quinlan thing. He's just like "This small child needs a friend that isn't super depressed," and decided he's going to be her friend. I keep trying to toss in "Quinlan volunteers to 'baby'sit." She's not much older and she has a Baby Brain, it works out

There's a running bet as to whether Leia will leave the Order the second she turns thirteen, or if she'll let Sokari "train" her for a few years first. And... that’s how I came up with Leia Antilles, Senator of Serenno.

They'll be bullshitting Ben as her new master to "finish out the padawanship" since they can't tell everyone she's really in her thirties and he's conveniently there and already knows everything and was half her master anyway. Like Ben was planning on taking on Luke, but Luke is "six" and even he can't swing that as old enough to be a Padawan, and it's not like Sokari will take more than a handful of years to justify knighthood, sooooooooo

[glitteryglitter]

hii i have a request for a finnick story. so i was thinking maybe if it was during the quarter quell and the reader is a victor for district 1 or something and her and finnick hate each other but secretly care about each other. the reader ends up leaving her alliance with the careers to join finnicks group forming an alliance at some point in the games. THANKS!!

𝙰𝙽: It's been a while since I read Mockingjay, so I'm sorry if some details are off. Thank you so much for requesting!

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Mentions of violence

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Finnick X District 1! Fem! Reader

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1286

                                                       ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

The quarter quell had been an absolute nightmare for everyone. even the careers

As they all milled around a clearing in the forest, they all had the exact same worries.

They were all terrified, for themselves, and each other.

Y/n had almost gotten stabbed, and Gloss hadn't been doing too well either.

Even Brutus looked visibly stressed.

Meanwhile, Enobaria had been glancing around the small clearing shiftily. The careers had decided to stay in a part of the arena that didn't look as dangerous, yet the tension was almost unbearable.

The entire experience had been even worse than Y/n's first hunger games, mainly because people very close to her were very likely to be killed,

Also the absolutely insufferably cocky district four boy was in the arena with her.

He'd even had the nerve to recited a love poem he'd written to someone in his interview.

Y/n couldn't imagine anyone actually wanting to spend more than five minutes with him and his overall demeanor.

She truly couldn't stand him, or his deep blue eyes. Why anyone would ever want to date him, she didn't know.

Why he thought he had a chance with someone, she didn't know either. But, she wasn't one to judge, and the topic of him dating someone merely made her feel angry, so she decided to shove all thoughts of Finnick and his love life out of her already racing mind.

What y/n did know for certain, was that she'd do everything in her power to make sure that those in her alliance stayed alive.

At that moment, monkey mutts, hundreds of them appeared and began running towards the group.

Y/n tried to focus, but there were so many of them, and she certainly didn't want any of them to catch up with her.

She couldn't place where they were coming from, but she didn't really need to at the moment.

What she needed, was to keep her allies safe.

The careers scattered.

Their previous attempts at sticking together were not working out as well as they had hoped.

Gloss dashed towards the ocean, meanwhile, Brutus ran through some bushes.

Enobaria had already disappeared, no doubt trying to get away from the horrible little mutts as well.

It was at that moment that Y/n realized something: She was all alone.

She really needed a plan.

However, with the monkey's shrieking playing in her head, practically driving her insane, it was hard to think straight.

She ran in the direction she thought Gloss had gone, but only succeeded in getting lost.

Finally, she found an area that was thankfully, small-primate-free.

Y/n was left with the terrifying feeling of being alone, and very very vulnerable.

She'd dropped her spear and there was no way that the others were unarmed.

She knew some hand-to-hand combat, but not enough to save herself if someone else had a knife.

Or worse, a bow and arrow.

                                              ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

At that moment. she heard voices.

Internally swearing, she crouched behind some vines as Finnick, Mags, Johanna, Katniss, and Peeta came into view.

They looked like they were arguing about something, Y/n only hoped that they would leave as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

They all sat down and appeared to be setting up a place to stay.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

She had no way of escaping and Finnick, that idiot was with them.

She just couldn't believe how his hair still looked that good!

Wait, what?

She didn't know where that thought had come from, but she didn't particularly care, as long as she never needed to think about it again. ever.

If only there was a way for her to escape...

At that moment, a tree branch cracked and fell to the ground, startling her.

Y/n promptly tipped over and fell into plain view.

Everyone looked up and froze.

"Who is that?" Peeta asked.

Finnick, that idiot, walked over.

"Look who it is" Finnick pulled her up onto her feet with a hard expression on his face.

Y/n cringed slightly.

You two know each other?" Peeta asked, sounding more confused by the minute.

"Of course, they do. Finnick couldn't take his eyes off of her at the interviews. All through the training, I couldn't tell if they wanted to murder or kiss each other, but it was definitely one of the two. Don't act like you didn't see it." Katniss whispered.

That warranted a glare from the two.

"Listen, I don't think you like me very much, but I need to join your alliance."

Y/n was desperate at this point and this seemed to be her best bet if she didn't want to get murdered.

She really didn't want to rely on anyone, especially not Finnick, but she didn't have any other choice at the moment.

He nodded. "We'll make it work."

Finnick sighed, He didn't want to ever talk with the district 1 girl ever again.

He hated to admit it, but Katniss was right.

Y/n seemed to despise him, despite his best attempts at flirting.

He'd even written her a poem and recited it for the entire capitol to hear.

She certainly was special, and it would be better if he didn't have to kill her.

                                              ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

Several hours passed and the group, plus y/n, decided to move on.

They'd been walking for a while when she recognized the area they were in.

There weren't any monkey mutts this time.

Y/n was just beginning to relax when she heard something.

The sound of wings, along with Finnick shrieking.

"Y/n stop screaming You're not helping anyone!" Finnick yelled.

"Me? You're the one screaming! Could you maybe stop it? Just let me think!"

"Just shut up! You two weren't screaming up until now and it's not helping anything." Johanna was standing off to the side, completely calm as the entire group dissolved into chaos.

She did have a point.

Y/n remembered something.

She'd been told that Jabberjays echoed the screams of the person one cared about the most.

Why on earth were they echoing Finnick?

She realized then and there, it was all so obvious.

Maybe she did want to kiss him.

Had she been jealous all this time?

Why hadn't she noticed this earlier?

How on earth would she deal with this?

She was in the Quarter Quell of all things, definitely not the most romantic place to confess your love to someone.

Y/n took a few deep breaths, she knew that the screams weren't real.

It was a bad time to tell Finnick her feelings, but it was better now than never.

"Finnick, I need to tell you something"

Y/n was practically shaking, but she still persisted.

How do I say this...I hated you- I thought I hated you... She paused to take a deep breath.

Finnick hoped this was going the way he thought it was. Did she like him? She couldn't possibly. After all, she'd basically admitted to wanting to murder him. But had she? She'd never said it specifically.

"I like you. I didn't want to admit it, but I like you. A lot. I understand if you don't feel the same, but- she paused again no doubt, thinking she'd said something very wrong.

"Can we kiss?" Finnick asked.

This must be a dream. A fever dream, but still, a very, very good one.

Y/n thought as she melted into the kiss.

"Oh my god. What is it with you two? I can't believe I decided to ally with this group", Johanna hollered over the Jabberjays.

"Because we're better than the careers, of course! Sorry, y/n not you." Finnick yelled back.

She shook her head.

Y/n could still see a hint of a smile on her lips.

                                               ๑*˚🍓˚*๑

[acourtofbookishdreams]

Azriel ~ Different

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You have been having nightmares frequently and Azriel always is there to help you. This time, though, you finally open up about your nightmares and the things you experienced Under the Mountain.

Warning: Mentions of r*pe and sex*al assault. Please be wary.

Word Count: 1785

Azriel POV

Her screams had woken me again.

"Azriel! Azriel, no!"

This was becoming a recurrent, nightly tradition. A tradition I wished would would just simply not be anymore.

I did what I always did, bursting into her room, Truthteller at the ready to fend off whatever ailed her but we both knew it was mostly for show. Still, I would never not rush to her side, never leave Truthteller behind for the sake of the fact that the one time I didn't would inevitably be the one time something was truly, physically wrong with her and I would kick myself for treating it as any other night - especially since the fear was certainly not all that unfounded.

But it was just a nightmare. Another nightmare.

'YOUR' POV

My screams had woken him again.

He had done the chivalrous thing of course, bursting into my room with Truthteller, prepared to fight the evil lurking in the shadows he couldn't predict or trust but we both knew nothing was there to fight, it was all in my head.

Another nightmare.

One like all the rest but this time...it was worse.

"Y/N" Azriel breathes, lowering the blade

"I'm okay" I shake my head, offering a weak smile, "Routine procedure at this point, right?"

I bite my lip, trying to hold the tears back and averting my gaze. It was usually at this point that Azriel would ask if I wanted him to stay but for some reason tonight was different. He closed the door, left Truthteller on the bedside table and climbed into bed with me immediately after, no questions, no waiting for an invitation.

Of course, I knew if I told him to leave he would do so. It was always my choice. But tonight it appeared maybe he needed this contact as much as I.

"You're safe" Azriel murmurs, gathering me into his arms.

I choke on a sob, curling into his side and resting my head on his bare chest. Usually, when he was shirtless it was an effort to keep focused but at the moment it was just further proof he was here, alive and free. It was proof he was safe.

"It's not my safety that scares me" I breathe. Once again, we were breaking from normal pattern. Previous nights, it had always been my screaming waking him, he would run in, ask if I wanted him to stay, I would agree and then he'd hold me until I fell asleep.

I never talked about the nightmares I had, never. Not even the first time...

"No!" she screamed, thrashing violently in the bedsheets, almost tearing them apart, "No, don't take-NO!"

"Y/N!" Azriel yells, bursting in through the door at the same time she awakens, clutching the sheets to her chest, sweat slick hair plastered to her forehead, tears streaming down in uncontrolled rivers of fear and pain, "Y/N, what is it?!"

"Nothing, Az, I'm sorry for waking you" she sighed, running a hand through her hair, "It was just a nightmare, I've had them for a while."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azriel frowned, Truthteller lowering to his side.

"It wasn't necessary. I've been dealing with these since-before I got back."

"Would you..." Azriel trailed off, "Do you want me to stay?"

"No, I..." she began to reject the proposal but suddenly changed her mind, "Actually, yes, please."

Azriel nods, placing Truthteller on the bedside table before moving to open up the covers, having since nervously been put in some semblance of order as they had spoken but he stops mid-way noting that her resolve had shaken - that she was now shaking, violent sobs wracking her body.

"Y/N" Azriel said and the one word was enough to break her.

"Azriel" she sobbed, tears flowing freely again, face screwed up into an expression of unfiltered pain.

"Y/N" Azriel whispers, sitting on the bed and pulling her onto his lap. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, securing herself to him as she sobbed into his neck until the sun rose.

She had fallen asleep that way, her legs and arms secured around him in a tight embrace, tears dried and leaving her skin slightly sticky with the moisture.

He had placed her down in the bed after he had fixed the sheets with one hand, the other supporting her body, becoming limp each second sleep overtook her.

He had intended to leave but she had subconsciously clung to him with a grip so strong it had surprised him and rather than risk waking you or, worse, upsetting you, he had climbed into bed beside her, tucking her into his chest so her face rested right where his heart was.

He had found it a very fitting place for her to rest.

Azriel had done it every night since, every time a nightmare came around unless you wished otherwise, which had never happened as of yet. Even if you didn't scream out, his shadows were so attuned to you, he would sense it and come in anyhow - where you would be sitting cross legged on the bed, hugging yourself or crying or just staring at the ceiling with a dead expression on your face.

Having him with you, holding you in his arms, stroking your hair, legs intertwined and breathing synchronised. It was the best remedy for your fear.

A cure.

"Then what does scare you?" Azriel asks, his voice hesitant to bring up a memory that causes you pain.

"You do" I breathe, "My nightmares are always about you."

Azriel breathes in deeply, "I scare you?"

"No, no!" I rebuke, "No, not you personally! My nightmares always involve you...they..."

"You don't have to tell me" Azriel whispers

"I think I need to" I admit, "These dreams, they're obviously not getting better. Maybe telling someone...maybe telling someone will help."

Azriel waits patiently. Content to listen or to completely disregard everything you said if that was what you wished, the way he'd always been.

"Most nights, A-Amarantha comes back" I explain, stumbling over the name, "And this time she takes you instead of Rhys and other nights...other nights it had always been you that was taken."

"And she took you because she knew he was hiding something" Azriel confirmed, it was the little knowledge he did have of Amarantha and her motives, "So to punish him further, she took you, his only living relative, and..."

"And that's all you know" I nod, "But what you don't know is that...she didn't just punish Rhys. She punished me too."

Azriel stiffens in my arms, his hand momentarily freezing in it's soothing stroking up and down my spine.

"If any of it gets to be too much, I can stop" I say

"No" Azriel shakes his head, "You lived it. I can at least stand to hear about it, especially if it helps you."

"She used to...make me watch." I spat in disgust, "While she...basically raped Rhys I had to watch. Everything she did to him, the malice in her eyes while she did what she did, the enjoyment in knowing he was doing this not for her but to protect what he loved...Worse, we both had to pretend it was normal. That we enjoyed it. If we didn't, our facade as the Court of Nightmares would fall apart and we couldn't let that happen."

Peering up at Azriel, I stopped for a moment to assess his reaction. His eyes were hard as flint, like chips of hazel ice. He nodded softly, encouraging me to continue.

"On the odd occasion she would also...bring me into the scene. It wasn't often, she didn't like it all that much herself it was mainly just to put us on edge. Thankfully, she never made us do anything...to each other. I never touched Rhys once nor he me and I'll always thank the Mother for that but she would still...it was still..."

"You don't need to say what it was" Azriel cuts in, "I know."

Traumatising.

It was traumatising.

"So, when the nightmares come about. It's not Rhys under Am-under her. It's you. I see her with you. Some nights you're faking it like we had to, others you're genuinely enjoying it, and sometimes you're...screaming and-and begging her to stop-" My tears choke off the words and I sob loudly.

He pulls me ever closer in response, hushing me as his hands stroke my hair, "That's not me. It was never me."

"What if it could be?" I cry, "What if another one of her comes around one day and they take you. I couldn't bear it-"

"You could. I had to" Azriel admits. Both comforting and upfront. He would never lie to you and to say it would never happen again could be a lie, "When you were taken, I...Cauldron, I would always try to leave Velaris, damn the consequences. It was always Amren and sometimes Mor and Cass who would pull me off the ledge. I couldn't stand it, thinking about what she could be doing to Rhys but, to you...it was worse. Infinitely worse."

"If it ever does happen, I need you to be strong" Azriel continues, "I will do everything in my power to keep it from happening but if the Mother decides that's how things play out...I will need you to be strong, to protect yourself because the idea of you ever being hurt for the sake of me...it's not right."

"It would be" I sniffle, "To keep you safe, I would do anything. I did. Rhys did."

"You'll never have to again" Azriel resolves, kissing the top of my head, "Never again."

I exhale loudly, making a sudden decision that could change everything.

"Azriel?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too" His response was automatic. I mean, we had said it a dozen times but this...was different.

"I don't mean it like that" I admit, peering up at him sheepishly, "I'm in love with you. I have been for a...a very long time."

Azriel's silence spurs me on to speak more, explain myself.

"I understand if you don't feel the same and I'm sorry I never told you earlier but at first it was a crush and then...then I got taken and I was stuck without you for so long. After that, I knew it was love and not a crush on my part but I couldn't say anything. I just...I couldn't. But then you came in every night to help with my nightmares and that was-"

My words are cut off as Azriel takes my chin in his hand, dipping his head and kisses me. Soft, tentative, comforting. It wasn't the kind of kiss that made your toes curl or butterflies erupt, it was the kind of kiss that admitted everything words could never express.

He pulls back only slightly, leaving you nose to nose.

"I have always loved you" Azriel breathes, "From the moment I saw you barrelling into the Illyrian camps, bright smile and unruly attitude."

"I love you" I smile, tears sliding down my face, - happy tears, "So much"

"And I you."

After that, neither of you slept alone ever again.

Masterlist

[jawabear]

Rule breaker (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: WHOA. Today’s episode was CRAZY!! But this fic has nothing to do with todays episode. Maybe set between episode 1 and 2, but like my last one, it doesn’t really matter as such. Just remember that this is set during the tomes of tfatws. This is quite short and full of angst, but I was thinking of writing a second part to it so let me know if that’s something you would want. Hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe

Genre: Angst

Warnings: fem!reader, tfatws spoilers (I guess), a lot of angst, sadness, nothing else I don’t think

Summary: Bucky breaks rule number two.

Part 2

Bucky didn’t get why he couldn’t be happy. Even when he had everything he could ever want, he never felt the reward of it. Even when he was dating the most perfect girl in the world, his twisted mind still wouldn’t allow him happiness. And he hated it.

For a while now he had been debating with himself about what to do. All his wanted was to really feel the happiness she gave him. But it was seemingly impossible with the way he was now. So, he decided on quite possibly the worst option for both of them. To end it.

“Listen...(Y/N)” Bucky began quietly, looking at the floor as so to not look into her tearful eyes. It was selfish of him really. He was the one causing the pain in her eyes but he wasn’t man enough to face or accept it. “I don’t know...if I can keep doing this. Being in a relationship. There’s just...so much I need to do, so much I have to get used to, so much I need...to find. I just don’t think I’m ready for a relationship...”

It was now that he decided to lift his gaze to look at her. But he really wished he had stayed looking at the floor. In all his long, painful years, after everything he had ever seen or done, nothing could’ve equalled what he was looking at. The pain in her eyes was a pain he had never seen before. It was life he could physically see her heart breaking because of his words. Bucky knew she loved him. Hell, she was basically devoted to him. And he loved her.

But his words were true. There was just too much else he needed to do. And the truth was, he didn’t feel he deserved to love someone just yet, nor did he deserve the love of someone else. Especially not someone like (Y/N).

He took a step towards her and lifted his hands to her cheeks “but that’s not to say I don’t want to be with you entirely. I do. I really do. I just...things right now...for everyone are just...tough and confusing. And I just need...some...time. Time to figure out everything. To figure out who I am. What I want. And I need someone to help me with that but...not yet. I don’t think. I’m sorry”

(Y/N) didn’t say anything. She was still trying to process what he had first told her. She couldn’t deny that her heart had been shattered completely by him but she could understand his reasoning. But the fact she understood him didn’t make the pain any less.

“No. No, I get it. It’s okay James” she said with a sad smile, letting the tears fall freely down her cheeks “I knew this would be a long shot to being with. I’m just...I’m sorry I wasn’t what you needed me to be...”

“(Y/N)...”

“It’s fine James” she lifted her hands to his and pulled them off her cheeks “You don’t need to say anything. I hope you find what you’re looking for” she gave him one more smile before walking out of his apartment. Walking out of his life.

Bucky stood there for a little while, frozen in the same place she had left him. He was trying to succumb to the reality of his choices. He had no one else to blame for the pain in his chest other than himself. And he knew that. Perhaps that’s what made the pain that much more excruciating.

“What I’m looking for...” he whispered to himself clenching his fists at his sides “is you...”

It had been almost a week since then and the pain still hadn’t ceased, on both sides. Bucky went back into hiding. He didn’t leave his apartment unless he really had to, even then it was a struggle for him. Once again, all he could feel was pain and regret, but again, he knew he had no one to blame other than himself. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About her. She was always on his mind, even before they were dating. The first time he ever met her he had never been able to forget her.

He wondered how she was doing. If she was feeling as awful as he was. Probably not. Only because she wasn’t the one who made the wrong choice. She did the right thing in agreeing with his choices but he wished she had fought for him. Perhaps if she did, he would’ve come to his sense and realise what a stupid idea it was to let a girl like that go. It was a stupid idea. One of the stupidest he ever had. But what’s done is done. He didn’t think he could go back now...

“James” Dr Raynor’s voice cut through his daydreaming, but he wouldn’t really call it dreaming. Are day nightmares a thing? If they were, that’s how he would describe it “You still with me?” She asked.

He was, but he didn’t want to be. But he didn’t have anything better to do now. When he had (Y/N), he had something to look forward to after these god awful therapy sessions. But now he didn’t have that.

“What was rule number two again?” He asked in a low voice, ignoring her question completely. He looked over to her with empty eyes and she sat back in her chair a little bit.

“Don’t hurt anyone” she answered. Bucky swallowed thickly and looked away from her again. He could feel his eyes burning and a lump forming in his throat. But his pride denied him the right to cry in front of his therapist. There were few people he’d allow himself to cry in front of. There were very few of them left. In fact, only two. Sam and (Y/N). But only one could fully heal his pain. But now it seemed he had lost that privilege. By his own fault, he had lost his happiness.

“I broke it...”

09/04/21

[folkloreguk]

❥ My Sweet Evil Heart (C.Chanhee)

A/N: I wrote this as part of an angel/demon collab for The Boyz! You can find the masterlist HERE. This was really fun to write and I got to live out my alternate universe dream in which I'm a detective...I hope you like it, I'm always welcome to any form of feedback!

genre: demon!Chanhee, detective!reader, angst, fluff, reader is constantly sleep deprived, Chanhee is the sweetest demon ever

synopsis: You, a highly respected detective in your department, are investigating a case of a very strange demon who seems hesitant to do evil...but can you trust someone who is supposed to be the personification of wickedness?

words: ~ 10.6k

Have you ever met someone deeply unhappy? Someone who seems to, at all times, be fighting a war inside of themselves? Have you ever felt empathy for somebody, even though they tested you, over and over, as if the worst part inside of them was trying to make them lose you on purpose? Did you hold on and never stop believing in them? Or did you say something to drive them away, making them think they would only hurt you in the process of you trying to make them see clearer?

This is the story of a demon, whose every cell demurred at his evil nature. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and start with the basics.

Being one of the head detectives at the local police station was not an easy-going, nor an amusing job. Whilst working on serious cases, lacking proper sleep was not an uncommon occurrence for you, and in some instances, self-care came up short until the mystery had been solved and the guilty ones were locked away. Every case pulled you in and swallowed you whole, keeping you deeply invested for days and nights until your brain felt like it had turned to mush and your body worked on autopilot, until you functioned a little like a highly intelligent zombie. And yet, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else in your life. The thrill was close to an obsession, and seeing justice being served thanks to your work was more addicting than any drug could ever be to you.

Most crimes in your world were committed by demons, of course. They were your worst enemies, the monsters you saw in your nightmares and the reason you never strolled down a street without a gun by your hip. It wasn’t forbidden for them to walk the earth, so long as they kept to themselves. Their evil nature made it almost impossible for them to uphold these terms, though. You wished you could lock them all away in some putrid prison cell, or better yet, send them back to where they crawled out from originally. But the law couldn’t convict beings before they had done anything wrong. So, it was on you to make sure you kept an eye on the sinister beings, figure out what they were up to and stop them before they could actually hurt somebody. Like that morning, when you were called to a liquor store to investigate a break-in.

“My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, I am the lead investigator,” you greeted the store owner with a handshake upon arrival. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I came here this morning at around 7 to open up the store. When I got out of my car, I saw the broken glass of the window,” he explained.

“What was taken from inside the store?” you inquired further.

“That’s the weird thing. Nothing is missing from inside,” he said.

“We might just be dealing with vandalism,” you thought out loud. “Do you have security cameras?”

He did, and so you went along with him to the back of the store. It was true, the interior of the shop seemed completely untouched. You suspected whoever had done this had never even intentioned on entering. There was a college campus not too far from the store, and you recalled countless times you had witnessed careless vandalism done by some intoxicated students during a Friday night. It was a very human-like crime. Demons weren’t known to do things by halves. Their crimes were usually the go-big-or-go-home-type of crimes. But then, when you watched the security footage, you were stunned.

At precisely 3:29 am, a dark figure appeared in front of the window. They lifted their arms, swinging a baseball bat against the glass. And against your speculation, they did climb through the hole in the window. With no mask or disguise whatsoever, the demon man looked right into the camera in the corner of the room. The abyss of darkness in his pitch black eyes was unmistakable. He looked around, as if he was debating on whether he should have done more, but then, to your utter confusion, spun around on his heel and climbed right back out the window.

You assured the store owner you would be looking into this case. With nothing left to do, you headed back to the police station. You had taken the security footage with you, and the moment you arrived in your office, you played it on your computer screen. Over and over - only puzzling you more, with each rerun you saw. You worried this might only be a warning. Not seldom had you been a witness to demons playing with their prey, feeding off the fear of innocent souls. Was this one indulging in one of those little twisted games? Right away, you uploaded the demon’s face onto the database for criminals, even if vandalism didn’t compare to the serious allegations that stood against other faces on that list. While you turned your attention to other cases, his features wouldn’t leave your mind. Even when you left your office at night, he was still the most prominent person in your memory.

By the time you began your walk to your home, the sun had disappeared. You couldn’t help it, even if technically you could finish work earlier, your desire to solve your assigned cases was always higher. Had you just walked home at 5 pm, you were sure to end up on your computer at home, researching and digging around on the web to discover possible clues. This way, at least you had all resources you would need at your office at the police station.

Now, in the dark, the streets were rather abandoned, most shops had already closed, and the moon dimly cast light through the clouds. Those conditions were what made it a breeze for you to notice your shadow. The figure had been following you for 5 minutes now. Judging by how carelessly loud their steps sounded and by their not-so subtle choices of hiding spots, you could tell this wasn’t something they had practice in. Purposely, you didn’t turn around, so they wouldn’t realize you had caught on to them a while ago. Instead, only a minute or so from your home, you took a turn left into an abandoned alleyway. Your hand was on the gun in your belt.

Just as you had stepped into the alley, you turned. He was right behind you. With dark orbs glaring and teeth snarling he came at you, knife in hand. Your eyes widened – you recalled his face vividly – as you took in the situation in the blink of an eye. After all, you had watched the security tape of him breaking into the liquor store countless times only hours ago. But you had the upper hand from the very moment you had spun around. His build wasn’t particularly strong, but you knew you should never underestimate demons. You grabbed his shoulders and along with him, your body crashed against the red brick wall to your left. He struggled against your grip, but his determined and feisty expression was the by far the most intimidating part about him. His face was inches from yours but looking into the sort of darkness that were demon’s eyes did nothing to you. Your hand was around his wrist with the knife – which he was aggressively trying to bring down on you – but only at first.

Because suddenly, something uncommon occurred. So uncommon, in fact, that not a single cell in your body could believe it. He willingly dropped the blade. It hit the asphalt, the metallic sound echoing in your ears. He relaxed his arm in your iron grip. Demons never gave up. They fought until you had forcefully brought them to the ground or done worse to them. Their ironic god-complex and evilness didn’t allow them to step away from a fight – until this one had come along, apparently. And then, as if his behavior hadn’t already stunned you enough, he did the unthinkable.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Without a doubt you thought you had misheard him. Swiftly, you pulled your gun out of your belt and pointed it at his face. One thing you knew. You weren’t going to play along in his little games. In panic, he rose his hands, showing defeat.

“Quit playing games, devil’s son,” you hissed. “What is it you’re trying to achieve here? You’re sorry? For what?”

He was hesitant. With every second, your curiosity only grew. Either, he was a skilled actor or…you had no idea what else it could’ve been about him.

“I almost killed you. That’s what I’m sorry for,” he said. “Does that get me a prison sentence?”

Your eye twitched because this didn’t seem right at all.

“You broke into a shop and attacked me, but then stopped out of your free will,” you assessed the situation. “You’ll most likely get away with a fine and your name in our register.”

If you had been awaiting an evil grin or any sort of enjoyment in his face, you’d be waiting endlessly. If anything, he seemed to be…disappointed?

“But you’re a cop, right?” he said. “You can lock me up, can’t you?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? You won’t be locked up if you don’t commit a crime severe enough. As much as I hate it, considering you demons are running free, it’s the law,” you said.

“You don’t get it,” he said. And he was right, you really had no idea. “I should be locked up. You need to get me to jail before I hurt somebody.”

His face was dead serious, but you didn’t want to believe a single word. How could you, when your daily life consisted of hunting down his kind, because all they brought upon the earth was chaos and death?

“Give me one good reason why I should believe you,” you said, unimpressed.

“I will tell you anything you want to hear,” he said. “If you bring me to a police station. You guys have these lie detectors, don’t you? I will take a test if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

~

So, that was how half an hour later you still hadn’t returned at home, but rather found yourself back at the police station. Almost everyone had gone home by now, so you took the liberty to choose the biggest interrogation room available. A few minutes and he was sitting in front of you, hands in handcuffs and his body connected to the lie detector.

“Okay, here’s how this works. I’ll start by asking some simple questions, and then we’ll get to the bottom of whatever your intentions are,” you explained.

“Alright. Go ahead,” he said. This was your first time seeing a demon take this sort of test. Usually, you couldn’t be bothered because you knew all they did was lie whilst smiling you in the face.

“What’s your name?”

“Choi Chanhee.”

“Where were you born?”

“In hell.”

“Did you break into a liquor store last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you intend on killing me tonight?”

“…Yes.”

“Is that your definite answer?”

“…No.”

“How come both of your last two answers are lies?” you asked. “You didn’t intend on killing me, but yes is your definite answer?”

“I can’t stop the evil in me but I’m trying,” he said. You were stunned. The answer was the most truthful of them all.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I was never like the others since I came to earth. I’ve never felt a rush like they do, causing mischief and hurting humans. I don’t belong. It’s as if there was a demon inside of me, but it’s not controlling all of me, do you understand?” he said.

“I’m not sure, but go on,” you said.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody or destroy things. But on some days, I’m walking down the street and my body starts following the devil’s orders instead. I usually snap out of it quickly and stop myself. That’s why you’re still alive,” he explained.

“You’re telling me you’re some sort of good demon?” you asked. “Why don’t you go back to hell, if you’re struggling so much on earth?”

“I hate it there,” he said. “And either way, I’m banned from there forever.”

Your head raised as you stared at him.

“Banned?” you asked.

“I stopped a bunch of demons from killing a woman once,” he said. “Safe to say they weren’t happy to hear that, back at home. I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to.”

“Can you tell me the name of the woman?” you asked. And he did. All this time, he really had been telling the truth. When you searched up the woman’s name in the computer, it only confirmed your suspicion. She really had been under attack when an unidentified person had interrupted and saved her life.

“I can tell you names of demons,” he said. “If you do me the favor of locking me up, I can sell out everyone I know about.”

You massaged the sides of your head and sighed. This guy really was one of a kind.

“I already told you, I can’t put you in jail for something you didn’t do,” you said. “That’s against the law, and then it’ll be me who ends up behind bars instead of you. I’ll have to let you go.”

“What if I mess up?” he said. The amounts of firsts you were experiencing in the timespan of an hour were giving you a headache. Never had you felt compassion for a demon before. But you were only human, and when you noticed the genuine concern and insecurity in his soft voice, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“How long have you been on earth for?” you asked.

“I don’t know, a few years, I guess?” he said.

“And in those few years, which of your deeds would you rate the most criminal out of all?” you asked. Any other demon would have been able to give you multiple answers, one more vicious than the other. He, on the other hand, took his time and even when he answered, he didn’t sound at all sure.

“I’ve broken into a house before, destroyed a car window and one time I stole a dog,” he confessed with his head tilted towards the floor.

“What happened to the dog?”

“I…gave it back,” he said. A laughter erupted from your throat against your will. In a friendly manner, you pat his shoulder before retrieving the keys to his handcuffs.

“Trust me, you’ll be just fine out there,” you said. “Whatever it is you’re doing to stop yourself from being evil, it’s working. I will let you go now."

Even though he wasn’t happy with your answer, he knew he had no choice but to comply. As you walked him through the hallways towards the exit of the station, you could only think of one thing: your beloved bed. Not only your body but especially your brain was drained from energy. You desperately needed a refill by getting a good night’s sleep.

“You’re the first person who’s been really kind to me,” he said, as you held the door open for him. The night air was cool, and you quickly zipped up your jacket to your chin.

“You gave me no reason not to be,” you replied.

“I almost stabbed you,” he said, bluntly.

“Almost.”

“For most people, me being a demon is reason enough to loathe me.”

“Well I guess I’m not most people,” you said. His smile was gentle, but his black eyes would always give him away. “I’ll be here at the station every day, if you have any concerns or need somebody to consult. But right now, all I want is my bed.”

“I understand,” he replied. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Good night,” you said, before you parted ways. Once more, you journeyed home. He remained on your mind until the moment you slipped off to dreamland that night.

~

The days passed without a trace of him. You followed your routine, but one thing you couldn’t help. You simply had to tell every person who worked with you about the changed demon you had met. No one really wanted to believe you. It was kind of understandable. Some thought you were testing their skills, seeing if they could figure out you were lying. Others went as far as to suspect your lack of sleep had given you hallucinations. But you didn’t let it go. And after all, you were a highly respected member of the police force. Some said they wanted to meet this demon gentleman, as they had renamed him.

But then you were called to a brand new homicide investigation and all of the jokes at the station were blown away by the intensity and buzz the case brought with it. You had a murder to solve. There was no place for sweet demon men in any part of your brain. Not for now. And as always, you slipped into old habits – staying up all night, living on coffee and quick meals – the toxic behavior was almost inescapable. Your fellow detectives tried their best to keep you healthy and most importantly, sane. They took you with them to get salad for lunch, invited you over for game nights (a futile attempt at giving you a break) and told you to go to sleep on time. After all, they needed your brain to function at full capacity for the case. You knew people were relying on your knowledge, and you weren’t doubting your capabilities. But a highly intelligent zombie was still a zombie. And so it happened that one Thursday night your boss sent you home. Not because you weren’t doing a good job – rather for of the opposite reason.

“You are allowed back at the station when you’ve caught a full night’s sleep. Do what it takes to take care of yourself,” your boss had said. Her tone displayed as much strictness as her eyes showed concern. Truth be told, you were too exhausted to even argue against her order. That’s when you knew. You really needed a rest. You dragged your body home.

“Hello sweetheart,” you greeted your pet bird, who chirped excitedly when you set foot into your apartment. “Guess what. I’m home early.”

As much as you wanted to drop into a slumber right away, your stomach growled. And you weren’t in the mood to wake up half-starved. As you prepared some left-overs from the fridge, you heard your bird call from the living room. “Peek-a-boo!” he sang. It caught your attention. He only played this game with you – when you were outside in your small garden and he was watching you through the window. So who exactly was he talking to, now?

You picked up a knife, because as a detective it was practically your job to be paranoid, and tiptoed into the living room. It would be harder for an intruder to spot you in the dark, so you pushed the light switch. Slowly, you advanced to the window and gently pulled the curtains aside. A shiver ran down your spine when you saw the figure standing between the trees. They didn’t seem to be hiding, if anything they were lazily resting their back against the garden fence. Maybe they weren’t aware you were watching them. Bold of them to assume they could intimidate you by acting so nonchalant. You cracked the window open slightly.

“If you don’t leave my property within the next ten seconds, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” you announced. The figure flinched. The moment he stepped into the moonlight and raised his arms, you remembered his face.

“Choi Chanhee?” You opened the terrasse door and stepped outside.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he asked, eyes glued to the knife in your hands. Quickly, you lowered your hand.

“What are you doing here?” you asked instead of answering his question.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he admitted.

“And so you thought creeping around in a police woman’s backyard was an appropriate thing to do? Wait…have you been stalking me?” you asked. You should have cut back on the sharp tone, but you felt half-asleep and this was the last thing you needed. Plus, the immanent realization hit you, that you had not noticed him at all. You had been so caught up in your work that you had not recognized a demon lingering around your home address, watching you. It hurt your pride a little – and could have ended very differently, had it been a more malovent demon than the one standing in front of you. This one looked terrified, kneading his hands nervously.

“I thought you wouldn’t be upset with me…that maybe you would understand. Because you’ve been the only one who’s listened to me. I’m just trying to find a purpose,” he said, “And my head tells me you’re the right direction.”

Demons. They’ve always had a fondness for the dramatic. But his words tore at your heart strings. His behavior resembled a child who had done wrong and was in the process of being scolded.

“Do you have no home?” you asked, softening your voice.

“I’ve lived with other demons. But they don’t want me there, anymore,” he said. For obvious reasons, you thought. Your head was racing. There was no way you could leave him standing there in the cold. But letting a demon into your home sounded like you must have had a death wish. It’s not like you didn’t have enough space, though. With an extra guest bedroom that nobody had ever used before, he would be just fine. There was no excuse. You cursed your parents for making you get a bigger apartment “In case you got married and had children soon.” You never know what could happen, they had said. And how wrong they had been, but how right they had been on that last part.

“Would you say you’re a tidy person?” you asked. A gigantic yawn came over you, and once again your stomach grumbled.

“What? I mean…I think so?” he said.

“Are you hungry?” You were in disbelief. Maybe it was the zombie in you that had a heart so soft, it took pity on a demon.

“I’m starving,” he said.

And that was how you came to have dinner with a demon. Spoiler alert: It wouldn’t be the last time. You ate quietly, trying hard to fight tiredness but it was no use. Afterwards, you showed him the room he could stay in.

“How do I make this up to you?” he asked.

“We’ll think about that another time, alright?” you said, “I need to sleep now. I’ve got an unsolved murder case waiting on me tomorrow.”

That night, you locked your bedroom door and slept with your gun on your nightstand. Just in case. Even though you were almost fully convinced the demon in the bedroom across the hall was more harmless than a five-year-old, he was still a demon.

~

When you woke up and saw your boss’ message on your phone, you couldn’t believe it. She wanted you to stay at home for the day. Apparently, you needed the rest and she had no interest in getting into trouble for overworking you (which she obviously wasn’t, you were the one doing this to yourself). When you walked down the stairs, you had almost forgotten about the previous night. It felt a little like it had all just been one wild fever dream – that was, until you spotted the demon sitting on your sofa, your pet bird on his shoulder.

“I let him out, I hope that was okay,” he said. You were dumbfounded. “Listen, I just wanted to say…thank you. Tell me whatever you need me to do and I’ll get it done for you.”

You wanted to go to work. But you knew he would be no help making that possible. Your mind was already wandering off to your case, the tips of your fingers burning with anticipation to search the internet for clues. Your grumbling belly interrupted your eagerness.

“Um…you could go to the grocery store for me?” you asked.

~

You went back to work the next day. Unsure of what to do, you decided to keep your demon housemate a secret for now. The other detectives would have probably written you off as insane, and you needed them to take you seriously. To be fair, maybe you were a little crazy. But he had been really good on the first day. Only one incident, which involved him dropping an egg on the kitchen floor, stood out to you. Of course, that could happen to anyone. But any other person would not have apologized in the way that he did. Normal people wouldn’t have acted so guilty, had it been an accident. But as long as his malice remained to that extent, you could live with it. You almost laughed at the idea of him purposely watching the egg roll off the counter and not doing anything.

He sure was strange. But little did you know, his egg-dropping shananigans were only the beginning of his uncontrollable little pranks he would pull on you.

Once he let your bird fly out the window. When you came home you discovered him outside, talking to your bird, begging him to come back inside. Little did he know, all it took was a whistle and a few treats and you had him sitting on your shoulder, ready to go back inside. One night you returned home to find him staring at the ceiling in the dining room, a kitchen towel in his hand. When you asked him what he was trying to achieve there, he told you there was a mosquito sitting above him.

“So, why don’t you kill it?” you asked. He looked shocked.

“Kill it?” he asked, “We should probably just shoo it outside.”

That’s when you knew. Choi Chanhee wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. All those times you had worried about leaving him home alone with your bird vanished in an instant as you laughed.

“You’re right. Killing is one of the worst sins. But sometimes, especially when it comes to mosquitoes, you don’t need to worry about any consequences. If anything, I’ll be grateful,” you assured him.

Another instance made you think maybe you had been too quick to judge him as harmless. When you walked into your bathroom in the morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you almost jumped out of your skin. A red substance stuck to your mirror in what seemed to be random shapes. On impulse, you called his name. On second look, you realized what he had done. The red was merely ketchup, and the random shapes weren’t so random, but they spelled “meeting at 2 pm”. When Chanhee appeared in the doorframe, he already wore his sorry expression.

“What did you think you were doing here?” you said. “You know where the post-it notes are!”

“I- He- The demon in me wanted to scare you…I’m so sorry,” he said. It was difficult to be mad at him when he was so sweet. You had, after all, told him to remind you of your meeting you had that day. He was so easy to forgive, too. Whenever he went to buy groceries, he returned with a bouquet of flowers, and after he had figured out your favorite candy, he made sure you never ran out of your supply. You liked being alone, but suddenly it felt nice to have someone waiting for you at home. A warm sensation filled your heart whenever he asked you about your day during dinner.

Even if after dinner you had to argue with him as if he was your son, because the demon in him had decided to take on the form of a teenage boy who was too lazy to take out the trash. You were still seated at the table, rolling your eyes at the demon’s horrible attempt at being evil.

“Don’t make me ask you one more time,” you threatened him, although you didn’t know what you would have done had he continued to argue against you. Only when he reached for the knife that he had already put down tidily on his plate, your eyes widened. His knuckles were white around the metal and you leaned back instinctively. Your gun was still in your belt – you had sat down for dinner straight after returning home – but you didn’t want to use it. Not on him.

“Chanhee,” you spoke in a calm tone. His face was unreadable. He wasn’t making eye contact. Instead, his gaze was glued onto the blade in his hand, staring blankly. His eyes blinked, almost robotically. Something changed in his demeanor then. There was a tremble in the hand that was clutching the knife. It grew more uneasy by each passing moment. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you kept your eyes trained on him, trusting your reflexes.

“Fine,” he suddenly said in a grumpy tone. Then he dropped the knife. The metallic sound rang in your ears for seconds afterward. You let out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding on to, as you watched him get up and retrieve the full trash bag from under the sink. You had been sleeping with your bedroom door unlocked for weeks. Even though it pained you, that night you locked your door again.

~

At 3:28 am you awoke to the sound of breaking glass. You allowed yourself to yawn and rub the sleep out of your eyes for just a moment, then you were on your feet. Gun in hand, you opened your door. Across the hall, the door to Chanhee’s room stood ajar. Light came from downstairs.

“Chanhee?” you called quietly. No answer. But your ears picked up shuffling and the sound of shards of glass being moved around. You approached slowly, trying not to give yourself away. Then you heard the quiet sobs. Your arm with the gun dropped to your side when you stepped into the kitchen.

He was sitting on the floor like he was one of the shattered pieces of glass himself. When he saw you, he flinched and tried to dry away his tears. But it was no use. They kept coming, and you had already seen them either way.

“I dropped it on purpose,” he said, referring to the broken glass. Another sob went through his body, making your chest ache at the sight of him. “I’m sorry.”

“I have nine more of those. It’s alright,” you assured him. Gently, you sat down by his side. You put your arms around his hunched frame. He stiffened at first but calmed his muscles after a moment and let you hold him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you said. Whatever it was that was hurting him so much, you’d be here to fight it off for him.

“I can’t stop the evil in me,” he cried. His weeps seeped through your skin and tugged at your organs. It felt like a thousand tiny, sharp needles in your heart.

“It’s a part of you. It’ll never fully go away. But look at you, you’re doing such a good job holding it inside of you,” you whispered. He shuddered.

“I tried to kill you,” he stated. “I don’t deserve you. You’re so kind. You do all this for me, and I tried to kill you.”

“But you didn’t,” you said. “And that’s what counts. We all have urges inside of us…but it’s what we end up doing that truly counts and makes us who we are.”

“But it’s so hard,” he cried. His face was in the crook of your neck as he sniffled. The small teardrops that touched your skin felt like ice. “And all I do is bother you. I’m an inconvenience. Why don’t you just lock me up with the other demons? Why give me another chance every time I mess up?”

You couldn’t believe he would hate himself so much. Chanhee had more compassion than a lot of the humans you knew had. Some days he sat and pet your bird for hours just because it made him happy, he always had money on him to give to the homeless people in front of the grocery store and he almost cried thinking he forgot to pay for an item at the store (which you had obviously paid for).

“How could you even compare yourself to other demons?” you said. “If you want, I will take you in to work with me sometime. Then you’ll see the atrocities others commit. Even among humans, you’d still be sorted into the best of the best. I believe in you and that you will do good.”

He only sobbed harder at what you had said, and you felt the need to pull him in just a little tighter. You softly rocked your bodies in an attempt to calm him down.

“I would fall apart without you.” Between the hiccups and tears his words sounded like a broken confession, but that’s why they hit so hard.

“You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you,” you whispered, lips right by his ear. Your hands were in his hair, stroking his head as if you could pour all your emotions into this one gesture. What else could you do to show him you would never abandon him the way his demon people had? And it seemed to do the trick. His fists that had been clutching your shirt loosened up and his sorrowful crying turned into mellow breathing on your skin.

“Aren’t you sleepy?” you asked. “Let’s get you back to sleep. Tomorrow things will be better.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep well for three days,” he said. “But I need to clean this up first.”

He let go of you and started to pick up shards of glass. There was still a haggard expression on him, and his cheeks were painted red and tear stained. And yet he was determined.

“Let me do this,” you said, touching his arm. “You can’t even keep your eyes open. Go to bed, Chanhee.”

This time, he didn’t argue. But his good behavior didn’t stop the apologetic, almost battered look at you. He knew you would be by his side no matter what – but what he needed most was his own forgiveness. And you could tell by the way he spoke about himself that it would take a while until he was ready to accept himself as he was.

You heard his heavy steps on the stairs as he walked to his room. Quickly, you gathered the biggest shards of glass and then used a hand brush to collect the tiny pieces. This wasn’t what you had signed up for when you had taken him in. You thought you’d have to argue with him daily and that you’d miss having your personal space and privacy. You knew it would be new, living with another person after living alone for so long. But nothing could have prepared you for the way Chanhee had swept you off your feet with his adorable charms. You didn’t need to fake excitement when you came home to him, nor did you ever have to force yourself to tell him about your day or have any conversation with him, for that matter. He was truly enchanting with the way he made you care so much. Especially when you had assumed all demons were your sworn enemies.

When you finally dragged your tired body upstairs, you softly pushed open the door to his room, only to see him lying wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked. “Even though you’re so exhausted?”

“No,” he spoke. Even his voice made no attempt at hiding the sleepiness. His look was pleading. “Can you please stay with me…just for a little while?”

There was no way you could say no to his lovely gaze and messy hair and outstretched arms. So, you crawled in next to him under the covers. Your faces were inches apart. The last time you had been looking into a demon’s eyes this close-up he had been lying face-up and dead on the side of a road. Those eyes had been lifeless, and yet you felt like they had still held so much ferociousness, even in death. Now you only saw concern and genuine care in the black orbs across from you. You admired his softly sculpted face. It was one that seemed like it would much rather belong to an angel.

“You’ve been working so much,” he whispered. “You must be much more tired than me.”

“I’m used to it,” you said, “I enjoy my work because I’m doing it to help others.”

“You’re a good person,” he stated. There was something in his voice you couldn’t make out. Regret? Admiration?Maybe it was both.

“So are you, Chanhee,” you said. Without second thought, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek. He didn’t flinch nor pull away. Instead, his pretty lips curled into a smile as he closed his eyes, ready to finally drift off to dreamland.

~

From that night on he seemed to improve a little, day by day. No more breaking things or having to argue about simple house chores. It occurred to you almost as if he had turned into something more human – so much that you dared to take him to work with you. People there had found the idea of your new demon friend strange, and you were sure some would take more than a little convincing to let down their guard around him. You couldn’t blame them for the prejudices – you had once been the same, after all. But Chanhee was okay with it, even when you had explained to him that some people might hate him, just because of his black eyes and what they meant to people. He had lived years of receiving that sort of treatment. Nonetheless, it pained you to think about how used he was to it. It took bravery and thick skin to walk into a police station the way he did that day. He was fascinated, looking behind the scenes. Perhaps you found it amusing how alarmed everyone was when they first laid eyes on him at the station. His ability to turn around their views of his species within twenty seconds or less was nothing but astonishing. He very willingly took it upon himself to walk down to the nearest coffee shop and order ten cups, also earning him the sympathy from the last few sceptics. When you were deep in conversation with another detective, discussing the possible whereabouts of a highly wanted demon, Chanhee suddenly interrupted you.

“I know an underground club where they like to go after…committing crimes,” he said. “Every demon in this city knows about it.”

At that moment you realized his full potential and what good he could really do. That was, if he was ready to sacrifice his people. But he just had – without even blinking. He could be an immense help to you.

“Young man I can see you have a bright future, should you ever decide to join the police force,” said your boss from across the room. Seemed like she had the same idea as you. Chanhee only smiled shyly but couldn’t hide the glint of pride in his eyes.

~

The following days you instantly made arrangements to get Chanhee an interview with the head of the station. He had been scared, at first.

“What if the other people there hate me?” he suspected.

“They might make assumptions about you in their heads, you know, because you’re a demon. They only know demons to be evil. But the moment they realize how good of a person you are, I promise they’ll change their mind,” you said. “You’ll be precious to us, and if you want to do good, the police is where you can be the most helpful. You’ll change lives, maybe even save people.”

“Yes, I want to help,” he said. “I’m done with my kind.”

“I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow,” you assured him. “If you’re too anxious to come in to the station, maybe she’ll allow you to work from home, from my office here. This is just a try, okay? If you really enjoy this work, you’ll have to learn and earn your badge.”

The way he looked at you filled you with so much pride. He seemed to have found some hope. Like he could finally spend his time in a productive and truly good manner. You couldn’t wait to see how he would do.

~

A tiring day and many discussions with higher-ups at workplace later, you returned at your home, late at always. Your fingers tingled with excitement and you wanted to yell for Chanhee the moment you walked through your door. You had managed to score an internship for him at your station. He was allowed to start as early as the following week. As you walked up the stairs, following the shuffling noise you heard, you imagined his face when you told him the news. You knew he’d be ecstatic. His smile would make you so happy, and you almost grinned at the mere thought of it. The noises were coming out of your office.

“Hi, Chanhee. Guess what my boss-,” you started. Then you fell speechless. Paper was scattered all over the floor. Drawers stood wide open. The orderly sorted piles of case files you had been working on were dispersed into every corner of the small room. Photos and pieces of paper were falling out of the folders. And in midst of it all stood Chanhee.

“Y/N- I’m so-,” he said, helpless.

“Don’t,” you said. Every ounce of excitement was gone from your voice, replaced by an ice cold tone you didn’t know you had in you. He flinched, but you couldn’t keep in what you had to say. “You’re impossible. I can’t fucking believe this! These are real cases, Chanhee! I’m trying to save real people here! This isn’t some broken mirror or a spilled cup of water. I can look past a shattered glass, but this is too much…I honestly thought you were getting better…”

Somewhere you knew you were being too harsh. But your job was your entire reason for existing. This was your life mission, laid out in front of you as if a hurricane had rampaged through the room. It would take days for you to rearrange the files. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find the correct places for each piece of paper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking because he was about to cry.

“I don’t want to see you right now. Please get out. I need to clean this up and you can’t help me with this,” you said, trying hard not to scream out of frustration. Your eyes were already scanning the floor. You had no idea where to even start. With low-hanging shoulders and teary eyes that were threatening to spill over, Chanhee slipped past you. He granted you one more look before he scurried out of the office like a frightened animal.

Even though your stomach was grumbling from starvation and you could barely stay awake – as always – you needed to get some of the cleaning done. Now. Or you would go insane. Plus, you needed time away from Chanhee. While you collected the paper from every inch of the wooden floor, guilt slowly started to nag at you. You had never raised your voice at him to this extent. And he was sensitive. It wasn’t his fault, that’s what you always told him when he blamed himself for messing things up. He knew that. You cursed at yourself. How could you be so impulsive? All too well you knew how he felt about his demon half. You were supposed to be there for him, to tell him he was doing a good job and to make sure he didn’t beat himself up. Now you had achieved the complete opposite. A dull ache in your chest accompanied your hungry stomach.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. In a haze, you stepped down the stairs and to the door. You needed to apologize to Chanhee. When you opened the door, a delivery girl from your favorite restaurant stood there, handing you an order. You were puzzled.

“Already payed for,” she checked with a beaming smile, “Enjoy your meal!”

“Thank you,” you said, voice numb. Before you knew it, she had turned on her heel and was on the way back to the car.

“Chanhee! Your food is here,” you shouted, assuming he was the one who had made the order. You got no answer. When you set the bag down on the kitchen table, you saw a note, addressed to you.

Y/N,

Words can’t express how sorry I am about what I’ve done. All my life I only wanted someone to love me. In you, I thought I might have found what I had been searching for all this time. But I messed up. I always do. I drove you away from what we had. I’ve wondered why I always end up disappointing people. Now I know it’s because it’s the only thing I’m truly good at. You deserve someone you can trust blindly, someone who will walk through fire for you, someone who will take a bullet for you. I can’t give you that. I can’t even trust myself. Thank you for giving me a home and for being the most generous person I have ever met. You will always be in my sweet evil heart. Don’t worry about me too much. I will find my way and you will find yours. Who knows, our paths may cross again. I ordered your favorite food. I know you’re always starving when you get home from work. Enjoy it and don’t let it go cold. Make sure you get enough sleep tonight, and don’t forget to take your water bottle with you tomorrow, you left it here this morning.

I’ll hold you in my happiest thoughts forever,

Chanhee

You only snapped out of your motionless state when one single tear dropped down your cheek and onto the note. A heavy blanket of sorrow and regret sunk into your whole body. The emotions seeped through your skin and before you knew it, you were a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor. You wanted to take him in your arms and tell him you forgave him. Hell, you had forgiven him minutes after you had yelled at him. You should have gone to him then. Had you only apologized quickly enough, perhaps he’d still be here. Then he’d be eating dinner with you, and although you’d be frustrated, you both wouldn’t be alone.

Your tears fell into your food while you ate it, unable to control your sadness and frustration you had against yourself. They mixed with the shower water as you stood in silence under the hot stream, overthinking everything. Your pillow was wet from the crying as you struggled to fall asleep. Like a broken-hearted zombie you trudged across the hall and into his room. Chanhee’s covers still smelled like him and you hugged them tightly, as if you could hold a piece of him and bring him back that way. But there was nothing you could have done. He had left, and it was alone your fault.

~

The next day passed like a vivid fever dream. While you were sat in your meeting, you couldn’t possibly focus on the case your team was discussing. Instead, you pondered whether your makeup was able to conceal your puffy face and the dark circles under your eyes. If it was obvious, at least people didn’t seem to point it out. Maybe they were so used to seeing you tired that it would take a lot more than some tiredness and lack of concentration to arise concern. It was the first time in years you really wanted to go home after work. In fact, you couldn’t stand the laughter and good mood at the police station for one more second. All you wanted to do was scream and cry, and seeing people joke around without any idea about your feelings only intensified your desire. Of course, you could have confided in somebody. But you were afraid they would tell you Serves you right or I told you. You don’t think you’d be able to handle those blatant assumptions and the mocking.

Your plan for the night was set: You’d sit in the bathtub for half an hour, then you’d wrap yourself into a human burrito in a blanket and fill your brain with some brutal movie that would make your life seem like it was mere child’s play. But as most things in your life lately, nothing went as planned. Because after only five minutes in the hot tub, your phone rang on the other side of the room. The first time you ignored it. You really tried. But then it rang again, and you looked up to see the caller ID. It was your boss.

You groaned and quickly stood up, not giving up on the prospects of a peaceful night just yet. But then you heard her message – a break-in at a bank, one dead bank employee, five hostages, a possible shoot out. They were calling for back up. And when there was a chance to throw bad guys behind bars, the most inviting bath or an exciting movie suddenly turned dull.

Not fifteen minutes later you had jumped out the bath, gotten dressed in your uniform, taken your gun and ammunition, and were pulling up at the scene your boss had ordered you to. The bank was in the city center, close to the main square. The police team was stationed in a side street. Some of the team had already been sent to the front of the bank, where the police was attempting to make contact with the robbers.

“They’re holding four hostages in the back of the bank. One of them is at the front, right by the glass doors for us to see. The robbers have guns to their heads. If we come closer, they’ll shoot them,” your colleague informed you.

“Demons?” you asked. Against your will, Chanhee appeared in your mind. You wondered how he was doing. Was he hiding out in somebody else’s garden right now? Had he found a bed to sleep in? Then you quickly shook your head. This was not the time for heavy emotions of any kind.

“Yes. Five of them,” your colleague added. You huffed.

“What do they want us to do? Are they demanding anything?” you asked.

“They want us to let them leave with the money,” she said. You grinned bitterly and nodded.

“What about the back entrance?” you asked. You knew the layout of this bank and had been there multiple times in the past.

“That’s our route. Besides the one at the front, the other demons are inside the bank. The entrance isn’t guarded. A team of four will go to the back and try to sneak up on them. When we have a clear line of fire on all the robbers, we’ll take them out at the same time,” she explained.

“Alright,” you nodded, fixing your bulletproof vest around your upper body. You were ready for this. To others, missions like these would have been nerve-wrecking, and you would have been lying if you said you were completely calm. But the adrenaline was already rushing through your body, and fear was something you hadn’t felt since your very first operation.

“All ready?” your colleague asked the other two members of the team who would go into the bank. You received nods and professional expressions. You had all trained together and were used to functioning like one unit. Sticking close together, you rounded the bank, using a side street so the demons wouldn’t see you approaching. In your ear, the voice of your boss was giving orders and checking in on you. The street was dark and devoid of any life except for your team. Multiple of the surrounding streets had been evacuated and shut off to the public. The scene had something straight out of a heist movie. Except this time, the robbers weren’t going to pull of the perfect theft and get away. You would make sure of it.

“We’re almost there,” you said. “Twenty meters to the entrance. Awaiting permission to go inside.”

“You have permission,” your boss spoke over your earpiece. One last look at your teammates, and you were on the move. Sneaking inside soundlessly was easy. The backrooms were all empty. As you passed abandoned offices, you saw knocked over office equipment and paper scattered on the floors. Lamps had been left on and you heard the faint buzzing of a running computer that was most certainly unoccupied. Moving swiftly, you walked along the corridors, guns pointed ahead at all times. Your teamwork was untouchable. One of you made sure the path was clear, then the rest followed.

“You are one room away from the entry hall,” your boss said.

“Understood,” you answered and slowed down your steps. A cat wouldn’t have been able to walk more silently than you did. Now your ears picked up voices. Somebody was crying. There was shuffling of feet on marble.

“Shut up!” a male voice yelled. The crying faded out into muteness. In the dark, you could make out figures. A few countertops and a good distance separated you and your team from the demons and the hostages. You nodded to your colleagues and they understood. The four of you parted ways, moving into the room and taking shelter behind the bank counters. Once again, you checked the situation. Close to you, four hostages sat on the floor. A woman was still crying, and you could tell she was struggling to keep herself quiet. Around them, four demons stood, dressed in black. Their ski masks kept their faces hidden, but their body languages told you enough. They were not to be messed with. By the far entrance, the fifth demon was positioned with the remaining hostage, and you could spot the police cars outside in the town square. From behind your hiding spots, each of your teammates had a clear line of fire on the demons. The fifth one would be taken out from police outside the bank. You were just about to send a signal to your boss to let her know you were in position. Suddenly, the scraping of feet on the floor alarmed you.

“What was that?” one of the demons barked. The noise had come from your colleague beside you, who was now flinching. You had no time to think. No time to complain about her mistake. If you didn’t act now, they were going to close in on you.

You jumped up, pointing your gun at the closest demon. Right away, the remaining demons had their guns aimed at the hostages’ heads. Your colleagues had done as you, guns held towards the demons. Now you got a proper look at them. They were towering over the hostages, who were crouched on the floor in intimidation. The one in front of you only chuckled. Humans didn’t laugh like this. It was pure malice and recklessness displayed in front of you.

“I thought we told you to stay away,” he began. The only thing you could truly note about him was his mouth. The rest was covered by his mask and where the white of eyes should have been, two orbs of darkness sat, eying you like prey.

“Let the hostages go and we won’t shoot you,” you ordered, with a surprisingly calm voice.

“And why would we do that when we can just kill them?” he asked. His gaze momentarily focused on his fellow demons, as if he was a stand-up comedian and he had just delivered the funniest punch line.

“You will die if you harm even one of the hostages,” you stated.

“Oh, is that so? Humans never learn, do they?” he said. This monster was completely insane. And suicidal too, it seemed. “Go on, shoot.”

First, you thought he was urging your team to shoot. Then you realized, he was looking at the demon closest to you. The very demon you had your gun pointed at. He was asking the other demon to shoot at the hostages. You were preparing to pull the trigger.

But then your mind started racing. You stared at him intensely as your heartbeat quickened uncontrollably in your chest. The dark eyes. The soft lips. His skinny frame and gentle hands. You knew exactly who this demon was. You’d be able to pick him out of any crowd. What the hell was he doing here?

“Shoot!” the bigger demon shouted again, but Chanhee didn’t budge.

“I told you he was goddamn useless,” one of the others said. “Get rid of him.”

“You don’t deserve any of this money,” the bigger demon snarled, and his hand went to his belt. You knew there were human lives on the line. What you were about to do could be considered not only stupid, but wildly imprudent. Emotions were supposed to be left out of police operations. But how could you not have been blind with shock? You were going to let your heart control your body over your mind, and if it was deadly so be it. The bigger demon was now raising his arm at Chanhee.

Before you knew it, you had jumped out from behind the counter. You mirrored the demon’s actions and you pointed at him, pulling the trigger. At the same time, his gun went off. Just in time, you had pushed your body between the two demons.

“Y/N!” Chanhee shouted.

The bullet hit your shoulder and you fell backwards. Burning heat spread through your insides as you stumbled and reached for anything, anyone to hold on to. You could only think of Chanhee, and how your bullet had pierced through the big demon’s skull perfectly. Then, your colleagues opened the gunfire. The shots sounded almost muffled through the intense amount of adrenaline in your blood and the initial effect of being hit. Your body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and a wave of agony spread through you. You grimaced at the excruciating pain, hands grasping at your shoulder. All you could see was white, before you sank onto your back and the world went dark.

~approximately 18 months later~

“Y/N,” Chanhee said, for the sixth time within the last ten minutes. You pressed your phone harder against your ear, holding it up with your shoulder. Your hands were too busy writing a police report on your laptop.

“Chanhee, I promise I’m writing the last few sentences already,” you assured him. He liked it when you came home early, leaving enough time to relax on the couch with him, instead of falling into bed like a corpse. Today, he was especially insistent, urging you to stay on the phone with him until you had finally packed up your things and left the police department. You guessed he was just trying to make sure you couldn’t stop somewhere along the way and start working on something new. And maybe that fear wasn’t so far off the truth.

“I’m done,” you said. “Status report: I’m switching off the laptop. Now I’m taking my bag. I’m getting up. I’m locking my office behind me. I’ll be home in twenty minutes or less.”

His laughter on the other side of the line made you smile. You couldn’t wait to see his face and get to hug him.

“Alright. I can’t wait,” he said. “I’ll see you.”

The walk home was calm. A soft breeze went through your hair and in the distance, you heard sirens of an ambulance. Promptly you were catapulted back to your memories and into the vehicle after you had been shot. Going in and out of consciousness, you kept repeating one name: Chanhee. When you woke up in the hospital bed, you half-expected him to be sitting there, waiting for you to wake up. But of course that was not the case. He had committed a crime – or at least tried to commit one. The prosecution was in his favor. They acknowledged his compliance with the police and his hesitation to hurt the hostage. Plus, he sold out the other demons and showed no resistance at any point. His regret and sorrow was apparent, nonetheless his mistake caused him 11 months in prison – by far less than the other robbers got.

People had called you insane for standing by him. Others thought you brave and newspapers named him the first good demon in the world. Every week you visited him in prison, often more than once. You made the most of your short time to talk, and with your kindest words you let him know that you were still here for him. Every visit you learned a bit more about how he had ended up in that bank.

After he had walked out on you, he had nowhere to go. So, after strolling the street mazes for days he found himself in the very demon night club he had once warned you about. Most unsavory figures twisted his mind into thinking doing good was no use. They made him believe he would never be able to escape the demon in him, and he might as well embrace the malice. They more or less pulled him along to the robbery, while he overthought the whole thing. It hurt you, seeing him cry as he recounted how scared he was when he saw the hostages. Some of them ended up injured, but all survived. You knew he would have never forgiven himself, had one of them died.

The day you picked him up from prison was a day you’d never forget. Holding each other in your arms felt so right, and you had missed it tremendously. His months at the prison hadn’t been easy, but you made sure he felt loved and cared for when he finally returned. He almost refused to believe that you would open your doors to him again. It was no question to you. You’d always be here for him. Even when he insisted you keep your office at home locked at all times. You trusted him almost a hundred percent by now. His demon only came out rarely, especially in times of stress or intense negative emotions. But you only treated him with kindness, and he gave back just as much of it.

“Chanhee I’m home!” you shouted as you entered your home.

“I’m up here,” he spoke. You ran up the stairs, excited to see him. Your eyes fell onto the open door of your office. For a moment, your heartbeat quickened as you approached it. You must have forgotten to lock the door that morning. Slowly, you pushed it open.

“Hello,” he grinned. You only chuckled as you watched him, sitting by your desk, a book in his hands. “I hope you don’t mind me being in here. This chair is so comfortable.”

“It’s all good,” you said. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Umm…Friday?” he asked.

“It’s been exactly two years since you first started living here,” you said. “I think we should get some take out and celebrate, what do you say?”

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” he said. “I’d love that. And you know what? I think I’m ready to start the internship at the police station.”

You smiled proudly. He had put his book down and was getting up.

“You’re going to do good things,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. He finally had found his place. His home. And you were never going to give up on him.

[impala-in-gotham]

This Destiel/finale fix-it ficlet I wrote...

This is my first attempt at writing fic so be gentle haha but I had a dream close to this and kinda tweaked it from there but it’s basically a finale fix-it in which I’ve decided Dean’s still alive. He lost consciousness a few sentences into his speech and imagined the rest, which is what we saw. There’s just too much about “heaven” that has been used before as a façade. So here goes…

“Okay. P-Please. I'm fading pretty quick, so...there's a few things that I-...” before he can even start the next words Dean’s head lolls to the side and his eyes fall closed.

Sam feels like everything is moving in slow motion as the nightmare of losing his brother plays out in front of his eyes.

“Dean??”

Sam holds Dean in place the best he can and his dread drains away slightly as he hears Dean’s shallow breaths despite his sudden loss of consciousness.

Sam's thoughts start racing, time-induced panic ticking away. Nothing they haven’t dealt with before but this isn’t Chuck’s tale of heroes anymore. It’s just them now.

"Shit, shit, shit...the nearest hospital is still too far...I can't...there's too many bodies to even try to explain...I can't even let Dean go to hide them...shit. Shit...Jack!"

"Hang on, Dean. Just hang on as long as you can. I'll fix this."

Sam prays loudly into the empty barn, "Jack?? Jack, I know you can see this, I hope you can do something, please. It can't end like this. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not after everything we've been through, everything Dean's survived, he doesn't deserve this. You know he doesn't. Please, Jack. He's not gone yet, he can still be saved. I'm not asking for resurrection here, just...just heal him, please, he deserves to be saved."

As if on cue, the barn roof starts to rattle, a few bulbs burst overhead and Cas walks through the barn doors, rushing to their side while Sam's eyes widen in shock.

"Cas?!? but...", Sam stammers out with only a little bit of shock and a lot more relief.

Cas darts his eyes straight at him and it feels like he's looking straight at his soul.

"Sam, I need you to hold him steady, I'll start healing, but I need you to slowly pull him forward as I heal, alright?... Sam?!...Ok?!"

"Yeah...Yes...Ok, I'm ready.", Sam’s words stumble out as he refocuses onto Dean's weight in his arms.

The familiar golden glow pours from Cas steadier than it did the last time Sam watched him heal Dean's hand. So easily that Sam is holding all of Dean's weight mere seconds later. Cas helps him lay Dean down. Dean's breathing has evened out, but his face is still clammy and pale.

Cas holds Dean's head in his lap for a few moments, as he pulls off his trench coat and folds it up as a makeshift pillow, easing his head onto it. The care and intimacy of the moment, it feels like Sam needs to look away, but then Cas stands and looks up at the relief and tears on Sam's face.

"He'll be alright, Sam. He lost a fair amount of blood so he just nee-".

Sam practically slams his entire body into Cas as he crushes him into a hug, "Cas, I can't believe you're here. Of course, you're here. You saved him. You always save him. Thank you, Cas. I didn't know what to do. Jack said he'd be hands-off but it's Dean."

"Of course. Jack sent me as soon as he heard you. We’re lucky we made it in time.", Cas looks around at the lifeless bodies and their lost heads strewn about, "I'll help you clean this up but first, I'll get those boys home."

As Sam piles up the bodies a familiar but long since heard sound of wings flutter near Dean and Cas is back. He's looking down at Dean with such adoration but with his matter-of-fact tone states, "They're back with their mother, who was thankful to you both...and to have her tongue healed back. I took the liberty of altering their memories. They shouldn't have to live with that trauma." His eyes still lost to watching Dean’s chest rise and fall.

"You got your wings back," Sam says without realizing he thought it aloud.

Cas smiles coyly and looks back at Sam, visibly spreading them out, while Sam watches in awe as their shadows encompass the barn behind him. "Along with a few other powers I've missed now that Jack has restored heaven to what it should be."

Sam sighs, "Yeah, about that..."

While cleaning up the barn, Sam and Cas catch each other up on what happened since they last saw each other. Sam talks about defeating Chuck, Jack bringing everyone back, and how mundane the past months of freedom have been. Cas tells Sam how Jack rescued him from the Empty as well as other angels like Michael (with Adam), Gabriel, Hannah, Samandriel, and Balthazar to name a few.

Sam throws his lighter into the pile of vamps and looks over at Cas, "It's great to have you back, Cas. Dean didn't...well more like couldn't I guess. He couldn't talk about you much after... all he told us was you made a deal and you summoned the Empty to save him from Billie...but after that, he could barely say your name. Didn't stop him from asking Chuck to bring you back", he says with a small smirk, then presses his lips together and sighs, "but it was like a part of him had shut down or just broke. He wouldn't tell me and if you don't want to, I won't push it but you're my best friend, Cas and I...I still don’t know...Can you tell me what happened?"

Cas looks into Sam's puppy dog eyes, now glistening either from the fire or the topic, and then over at Dean still peacefully asleep a few feet away. He reaches out his grace and maybe Dean's soul recognizes it because he is sleeping soundly as if he hasn't in months. Cas guesses that's probably true. Contemplating how much of the story is his to tell and how much Dean would allow him to say since Sam and Cas both know it's not that he won't, he can't.

Cas reaches out and squeezes Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry for any pain I caused you, I didn't have a choice. I knew it was the only way to beat Chuck. That only you and Dean could find a way. I made the deal to save Jack when he was dying, the Shadow agreed to take me instead but not until I had experienced true happiness. With Chuck in charge, any happiness seemed impossible, but I thought proving to Dean that he is worth saving, that all he's ever done was driven by love, not anger, prove to him why I love him." His voice betrays him by cracking on the last words. Still new to his mouth and his ears.

Cas searches Sam's face for any sort of shock or surprise but finds none. Instead, there’s a kind understanding that only Sam would have.

Sam sighs and says, "That's why." he continues as Cas' head tilts, "When we faced Chuck, he called Dean the ultimate killer but Dean just walked past him, no anger or malice, and just said 'that's not who I am'. It was because of you. He must have finally started to see himself the way you see him. How we all see him."

Cas brightens at that, looking back over at Dean, "Then it worked. The only thing I ever wanted was for Dean to love himself. I didn't ever think I'd be enough. That how I feel about him was enough after everything...after every time I tried to prove it. It was never enough before."

Sam smiles warmly, "You were enough, Cas. I've been trying almost our whole lives to get Dean to believe he wasn't a killer, that his life was worth more. I think we all tried, but you got through to him. He tried so hard after you...he tried but I could tell he was forcing it. Tonight, before you got here, it sounded like he'd given up. It sounded like the last time we lost you.” Sam shakes his head, trying to push away the image of Dean plunging a syringe into his heart, “Cas…every time we lost you it's been hard. For me too, but for Dean... it's different, each time it was different. He’d close himself off. He’d lose all faith. He’d give up. He’d want to die. I think...I think that he loves you more than he lets on. He's better when you're back. He's only happy when you're back."

Cas looks back over at Sam, a trace of a smile, "I know. I always felt it, just... well", he huffs, "We both know he's not one for words. But I know how he feels. I think his fear was more so in having something to lose. We’ve lost each other too many times."

The fire is dying down with the bodies not quite recognizable. Sam collects their gear into Baby's trunk. Cas walks out of the barn carrying Dean as if he's as light as a feather. Sam offers to drive Baby back to the bunker if Cas wants to fly Dean back instead. Cas nods and another flutter of wings echoes in the space left behind. Sam climbs into Baby, places his hands tightly on the wheel, closes his eyes, and prays to Jack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, Dean wakes up. He slowly realizes he's back in the bunker, he's in his room, there's no pain in his back, and his hand is being held. He looks over to meet gleaming blue eyes he thought he’d never see again and can barely get anything out. “Cas... but how... you...?” and just pulls him into an awkwardly angled hug but holds on so tightly. It's just them. He doesn't have a time limit.

Dean feels as Cas inhales to explain but Dean cuts him off with “It doesn’t matter how. Is this real? Are you really back? For good."

Cas smiles as if his true happiness reaches a new level and simply says, “Hello, Dean." tightening his embrace, "Yes, Jack brought me back-- new and improved”.

Dean holds him and breathes in that familiar ozone smell, feels the pulse of grace within him stronger than before, something only he seems to be able to feel. "I thought I lost you forever. I thought you...wait," he pulls back to look at Cas again, "Didn't I die? I was in heaven, but it felt...wrong, you were there but you didn't come to see me, Bobby was there but he didn't even hug me after... what? 8 years?! No one else showed up. I just drove to a bridge…Tell me you didn't make a deal or -" his face freezes and his entire body goes tense, "Where's Sam?"

"No, you didn't die. Sam prayed to Jack and I came straight to you. You're healed but the blood loss left you pretty lethargic; though, I think that was your own exhaustion. Sam’s fine, he took the Impala. Should be here soon. You’re safe, it was just a dream. Those boys are back with their mother. I healed her. Altered their memories. Everyone's safe now. Sam told me everything that happened since...I...," a brief sadness flashes in his eyes before he brightens and smiles at Dean, "I knew you would save the world."

“I’ve been trying to find a way into the Empty for months, Cas. I…I read everything I could find but there was barely anything. I tried to use your blood from the sigil to summon you like what Nick tried to do but I guess I didn’t get the ingredients right or I don’t know…nothing worked. Jack never answered any of my prayers but I kept asking him to bring you back. I tried--…”

“Dean.” The tone over that one syllable calmed Dean the same way only Cas has always managed to be able to do.

Cas continued, “I’m back. Jack only recently was able to get me back but he heard your prayers. It took a lot of time and bargaining to get me and as many angels as we could save back out. The Shadow’s asleep again. I’m back and I’m not going anywhere. This is my home. I’m home.”

Dean sits processing this. Shaking off the fake heaven and submerging himself in Cas being alive and here. Now. In his grasp. He doesn't know how he gets to have a second...or seventh? chance but all that matters is everyone he loves, everyone he cares about is safe.

Dean meets Cas’s eyes and stares into the bright, deep blue he's fallen in love with so many times, eyes that have seen every part of who he is, good and bad, and says, “I love you too, Cas.”

Cas smiles very much like he did before the Empty was summoned but without tears because the one thing he wants is right in front of him. Looking at him like he is the most important being in every possible alternate universe. Still so beautiful.

Dean's eyes drift to Cas's lips as they have many times before, asking the same question Cas has yet to answer. Cas places a hand behind the base of Dean's neck, his fingers warm and strong as they pull Dean closer. Finally, their lips come together and it feels like no other kiss either of them has ever had. It feels like swirling grace entangling into his soul; it feels like being healed. It feels like every jagged piece of each other is clicking into place, completing and filling what was empty and longing before. It feels like being saved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam parks in the garage and leaves everything as-is to deal with later. He heads down the hallway to check on Dean when suddenly the overhead lights flicker but before he can run for iron or salt, the bulbs burst. First the one over Dean's door, then a few more heading his direction, then nothing. Sam relaxes and sighs deeply, “Finally!”

[vydante]

Restart | END | Avengers x Male! Reader

I am discontinuing my Restart series because I've simply lost creative juices for it. That's it, no elaborate or other reason. Anyways, I didn't want to just end it on the last chapter, and as someone who loves to overshare (especially if it's unsolicited), I thought some might like to see what drafts I had in plan, going chapter by chapter.

It goes up to Ch. 20 with additional bonus chapters, and chapters where I wasn't sure where they were going to be placed in the timeline.

If you have any comments, let me know! I'd love to read them :)

Here goes! Warning: very long, since the formatting is weird! The reader will be referred to as (Name) and "you", as in the story.

Right after Ch. 12 (Circumvention), are 2 special chapters (High Caliber Bullet) & (America's Sweethearts).

(High Caliber Bullet)'s basic plot was that Barnes, now # amount of weeks since the last chapter, has gained some freedoms and can now go out and about with either (Name) or DAHLIA for supervision (via his phone, and through the cameras everywhere).

In this particular chapter, he basically goes out for a typical grocery run with DAHLIA "accompanying" him, since before, he remembers (Name) telling him that "I won't always be there with you". But something bad happens! Wooo! (Maybe an attempted robbery, I didn't have the details sorted out yet.)

Either way, DAHLIA loses contact with him, and she tries to contact you ASAP, but it takes a little while since your dumbass was asleep the whole time! Wow! The suit had to manually power on and shake you awake.

Anyways, the only thing I had "written down" after that was that, after a failed search attempt for James, you go back home and are greeted with a surprise... "Kabedon"? Or, you're pinned to the walls by James... Or, rather, the Winter Soldier! 

You're not sure what's going on, only that, "Wow, Barnes is acting weird. Why is he suddenly Russian? Wh- Okay, wow, he's suddenly gotten a lot closer. Now, wait a fuckin' minute-!"

Either way, you and James make a discovery of a second personality living inside his body- the Soldier! Or Winter, I'm still unsure which I would have gone for. If you're familiar with certain WinterIron tropes, this is one of them. Anyways, that's the end of that chapter, or what I had written so far, anyway.

This chapter is really important to the canon of Restart since it establishes Soldier, but it didn't fit into my initial plans of 10 chapters an arc, so. That's why it's a "special" chapter.

The next "special" chapter after that was (America's Sweethearts). I had written 2 "chunks" of text for this chapter. The main plot is, basically, you and Steve spent a platonic (promise!) Valentine's Day together. Hence the title. Cute, right? This was referenced in Ch. 9 (Revelation) during Future! Steve's reminiscing.

Anyways, below the next text is what I had written for that chapter. It will be in normal text.

No other thoughts on that, so let's move on.

"You live like this?"

In his defense, Steve's apartment wasn't messy in the slightest. In fact, it was the other way around- everything was too clean, too pristine, too detached. The only saving grace he's getting from standing in the middle of his apartment is the fact that compared to the chilly Brooklyn weather, it was almost obnoxiously warm in his apartment. 

Not only did he have the heater going on, but he had another separate, portable heater blasting hot air in the corner.

(Sometimes, and only sometimes, Steve will stand in front of the heater and slowly spin around like a rotisserie chicken. The heat feels good, in his defense.)

The heat was something that you, thankfully, didn't comment on as you shed your jacket and slung it around the coat hanger near the door. You're wearing an over-sized tee- Thor's tee, he absentmindedly notes- and some sweats, both like and unlike the (Name) he often sees.

(It's not uncommon for Steve to glance at a newspaper or TV still shot and see you with your hair slicked back and dressed head to toe in a suit so expensive he's confident it costs at least a few years' worths of a typical New Yorker's rent.

Neither is uncommon to see you on the front cover of Men's Magazine, wearing a simple tee that shouldn't look that good on you but still does and posing confidently for the camera.

But despite all that, all of the clearly flattering outfits you could possibly wear at the tips of your fingers, often Steve will see you wear a disparagingly obnoxious, dirty shirt, and an old pair of sweats as your go-to outfit.)

(No, he will never admit that he really likes seeing you like that. Even with the mysterious smudged substance often found on the bottom of your sweats, as if you had swing danced in mud and crude oil.)

Regardless, while he often questions your private life fashion choices (and this is coming from a man who willingly wears khakis), he at least knows why you're wearing what you are, given the fact that he's also dressed in an overused tee and some joggers.

"What's wrong with my apartment? Not up to par with your penthouse standards?" Steve jests.

"Steve. Please." You threw him an unimpressed glare, much to Steve's never-ending amusement.

You glanced back to the inside of the apartment and squinted at it with what Steve could only describe as a rich man's scrutinizing gaze, before shrugging nonchalantly. You strolled into his apartment with a confidence Steve can still never get used to, one that reminds him so much of Tony's, and even Howard on his bad days.

(He understands why Tony doesn't like it when he brings Howard up, as he belatedly realizes that Howard didn't die the same man he knew him as, but he never understood why you've suddenly gotten bitter about Howard as well.)

He follows you into the hallway, and if it weren't for the fact that this was his apartment, he would've looked like a lost puppy following its new owner.

His apartment's not really that big, so it doesn't take long before you've both reached the living room. A simple TV, simple couch, simple table. Nothing really exciting in his living room, but it serves its purposes, in Steve's opinion.

(This is the end of that chunk. Next is where I picked up in writing. Short time skip, they both fall asleep and now Steve's waking up.)

It was the change in the smell that woke him up.

It's always the scent of fresh linen that greeted him early in the morning, something that's become so attuned to his everyday life. So when, instead, popcorn and sweets drifts his way, for a brief second his heart rate jumps.

'What?', his mind asks as he opens his eyes, bleary but cautious.

'Oh,' his mind responds back at him when his eyes drift down to your sleeping form laying splayed right on top of him, body glued to his side. You're mainly hogging the blanket, but he doesn't really mind as he runs hot 24/7. 

'Oh', his mind repeats softly, as something deep unfurls from his stomach and rises to his throat, clenching up and unable to say anything as his eyes fixate themselves on your steady breathing. Your lips are too close to his neck, each breath too warm, even for him. His skin burns where it meets yours, and absently he thinks, 'this is nice'.

'Yeah,' he lifts his hand to brush away a strand of hair away from your eyes, 'This is nice.'

Steve blearily throws a glance at the clock on his nightstand. 4 more minutes until he'd typically wake up and start his day with a morning jog.

'No,' his body protests.

'Okay,' his mind agrees without a fight.

He carefully reaches over and presses the silence button on his alarm. Above him, a breathy exhale escapes your lips at the sudden movement, and if possible, you curl closer to him than you were before. He pauses, unsure if you're going to wake up or not, but relax when he realizes that you're still in a deep slumber.

(Another break. Next sentence was supposed to be the final sentence of the chapter.)

In the end, neither of you commented about how Steve had missed his daily morning run as his limbs were straddled in between yours.

Ch. 13 (Upheaval) and 14 (Airlocked) are short in terms of drafting, so I'll combine them into one section here. Ch. 13 (Upheaval) was about taking down SHIELDRA in a better manner than the mess that was CA:TWS. And (Name) also forces Steve and Natasha to fess up immediately about Tony's parent's murderer. ((Name) threatens them.)

As for Ch. 14 (Airlocked), it's pretty much a filler chapter of sorts. (Name) graduates, there's now an official class-action lawsuit against Ross, also now keeping an eye on Baron Zemo, and we see some progression on Barne's therapy session. Not much, but some.

I really was not looking forward to these two chapters, as I knew they were gonna be boring as hell.

Ch. 15 (Spiralling) has actual written chunks. It's basically about the early prevention of Ultron. The Avengers go to a Sokovian HYDRA base, take out baddies, and the Super Twins get captured first- wow! But not before Wanda does... something to (Name), causing you to hallucinate and lose contact with the team- uh oh!

But don't worry! You get run over by a car. Lol. Below is what I had written for it, sans minor text.

A/N: In Ch. 7 (Summer), there was a 'dream-sequence' that happened where (Name) was on Titan with Tony, Peter, Stephen, and the GOTG. I've now decided that in canon, (Name) was not on Titan- instead, you were on Earth instead during IW helping at Wakanda. Just a brief plot-hole wrap-up; let's imply that (Name) had watched video footage of the fight at Titan via Tony's suit afterward, and that's where the nightmare came from. Okay bye.

(VERY abrupt start into the story, not meant to be the start of the chapter in the final draft, just where I wanted to start writing. Intro to Wanda.)

You jerked your head, catching a glimpse of brunette hair in the corner of your eyes. You swung your gauntlet instinctively and made instant contact with whatever was next to you. Flutters of red wisps followed your eyes, and you instantly knew what just happened as a body dropped next to you. 

You grunted and leaned onto the nearest wall, watching the girl's limp body with caution. Your shoulder plate lifted, and a tranquilizing dart connected to her thigh.

Just in case.

"Guys, I- I've been- ugh..." You wanted to vomit, the pounding in your head worsening with each millisecond that passes. Already, your surroundings distort you with each blink, walls melting and the floor sinking in on itself. "I've been- com-," you swallowed back your bile, "-compromised... Sending- location... Ergh..."

You didn't even have enough time to hear a response before the whole world around you shifted. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to calm your thundering heartbeat. The pounding got worse as the armor around you dissipated into nothing but the under-suit you were wearing. Before, where there were the shouting and gunshots, is now replaced with an eerie silence filled with just your laborious breathing.

You didn't know the full extent of what visions you were about to see, but you needed to remember that none of this is real. Scientifically, that was your only safe haven from possibly losing your mind for what's about to come. And it was worse because you had no idea what visions you'd see. Would you see Thanos? The Chitauri, just like your father once had? Or would it be something more close to home; the bunker? Tony's dead body, splayed with vomit around him, frostbitten to the touch and still like a marbled statue? 

Ready to go up and arms at whatever it was you're about to see, you cautiously opened your eyes.

(Line break, there's meant to be an "oh shit" line, like "Only, you were met with eyes far too similar to yours." but I still didn't know what I wanted to do for the hallucination sequence. Maybe meeting an older you, a younger you, or your dream life without the Avengers or meta-humans.)

(Below is an abrupt shift in the story; same general setting, but outside POV! What I had was dialogue only, alternating between people in bold, as a POV switch.)

(Name) "Guys, I- I've been- ugh... I've been- com-compromised... Sending- location... Ergh..." 

(Steve) "Apex, do you copy? (Name)!" 

(Steve) "Shit, (Name) isn't answering! Tony!"

(Tony) "Got his location, he's inside the base. J.A.R.V.I.S., what's his status?" 

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "I'm sorry, Sir, but it appears that I am not in contact with his suit." 

(Tony) "Wha- the hell do you mean you're not in contact?!" 

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "I cannot connect to his suit; it appears that Young Sir has somehow deprogrammed me from his suit." 

(Tony) "Wha-!" 

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "However, it seems as if there is an A.I. present nonetheless. Though..." 

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "I do not recognize the code. Would you like me to attempt at forming a mode of communication?" 

(Tony) "Yeah, just- God, make sure (Name)'s okay, please." 

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "On it." 

(J.A.R.V.I.S.) "Establishing a connection." 

(DAHLIA) "Mister Stark?"

(Tony) "Wha- I'm sorry- who are you?"

(DAHLIA), ignoring Tony, "An enhanced got to (Name). The operative is down, but (Name)'s experiencing hallucinations. I can't get through to him- you need to get to him, now. I fear he may hurt himself more than he already has."

(DAHLIA) "And if I may be privy to a request?"

(Tony) "What?"

(DAHLIA) "Don't bring Rogers." (I don't remember why I wrote this bit.)

(Steve) "Any updates on (Name)?"

(Tony) "Yep, and by the looks of it," there was a loud boom coming from the base, and as Tony looked up to see an all too familiar suit fly out of the building. Or, rather, flying was an interesting way to put it- it was more of a free-falling more than anything else.

(Steve) "What was that?"

(Tony) "That was (Name), and he's not havin' a great time I'll tell you that."

His voice was light and joking, but he'd be lying if he didn't say that his heart wasn't in his throat by the sight of you flying out of the building and falling back into the forests.

(Line break, another POV switch)

Steve sprinted towards the loud boom, movements quick and calculated, but mind racing a thousand miles an hour. He saw a red and gold glint fly up above him, zipping in and out between trees gracefully. 

(Line break, but no switch, same place. Another story POV shift, sort of. Steve makes contact with (Name), or so he thinks.)

"(Name)? Hey, do you copy?"

The suit was eerily silent, glowing eyes that once gave comfort to the soldier now bringing nothing but an awful, gripping dread; one that he'd get when there were Nazi soldiers nearby, but he couldn't tell where even with his enhanced senses. The suit gave away nothing that usually screamed out everything that was you- no head swaying, no restless and constantly shifting feet, only a stillness that looked so unnatural. Almost as if there was no one in there.

"(Name)?"

There was no response from you.

The hairs on Steve's neck stood up, everything in his system suddenly screaming to get out of there, run, leave, get away from the suit, but he ignored it as he took a cautious step forward.

Again, you didn't seem to react.

Then, the suit took a step forward.

Then another one.

And another one.

"(Name)-"

Before he could say anything more, the suit lunged forward. Only for a moment could Steve react, but even he wasn't as fast as you could be when you're in the suit. He raised his shield, ready to be shot at, but only the sound of harsh metal on metal makes it to his ears. By the sounds of it, it sounded like Tony had managed to land a direct hit on you, from wherever position he was at. Cautiously, Steve lowers his shield to look.

But instead of the familiar red and gold suit of armor greeting him, it's the sight of two (color) suits wrestling on the ground with each other that manages to sucker-punch all air from his lungs.

(Basically, you went bat shit insane and got out of the older suit, then prematurely activating the nano suit instead, in a fit of panicked hallucination. The older suit, now operating by DAHLIA, was trying to protect Steve from being ambushed by (Name), and now they're wrestling.)

(Another big break, but I think I had a hallucination sequence from (Name)'s POV planned here. Not sure what I was gonna do here since I planned this like, maybe in 2018, early 2019. It's... 2021 now...)

"-(Name)!"

Your eyes widened as the world around you suddenly shifts out of existence, and instead, you're outside in the dim, snowy alps once again. Someone called out to you, you don't know who, but there's a light in the corner of your eyes that's so goddamn bright. You turn your head in the direction of the light, and amidst all of the yelling and gunshots, DAHLIA's cool, chilling voice rings the loudest in your ear.

"Aborting protoc-"

And then the world turned black.

Ch. 16 (Enflamed) also has written text. Basically, you're recovering from being caught slipping by a car, the team is now aware of certain secrets you've been keeping behind their backs, and you realize that you have to get back to Barnes to let him know you're okay.

This chapter was meant to be focused on the twins, but I guess I forgot that as I was "writing" it. Basically, the gist was that their parent's deaths weren't by officially licensed Stark tech (maybe even a counterfeit since Stark weapons are the best, and don't malfunction as it did in WandaVision ep. 8). Maybe HYDRA was the one that did it in order to recruit more people. Or something like that. Basically, Tony wasn't the one who authorized those weapons to be sold and used there, but it was Stane. Either way, they get their own healthy moment to mourn and lament over it all.

Here's the text below. Italics for a dream sequence, since you were unconscious/ in a coma from being bOnked on by a car.

"Hey, sweetheart."

You smile, turning around to face the voice only to be greeted with lips on yours. You chuckle, amused that this was the first thing you'd be greeted with, but lean into the kiss anyways as you wrapped your fingers around their cheek.

They pull back first, but their eyes are warm as they smile, lingering in the space between the two of you. Where their hands laid on your hips, your skin burned bright hot, but you paid no mind to it. 

(There's supposed to be more, maybe foreshadowing, but I stopped here in terms of the dream sequence. Jump cut to another POV, but you're waking up!)

(Name) "Hnng..."

(Steve) "Stay down! You're in no condition to move at all, just- just rest, okay? The doctors- and- your dad are coming."

(Steve) "How're you feeling? You want some water?"

You tried to turn your head to look at the blonde but hissed suddenly.

(Name) "S'nnof'a' b'ch..." (Son of a bitch.)

Steve helped you settle back onto your pillow- which even he'll admit doesn't look like the most comfortable setting in the world.

"Language, (Name)..."

He reprimanded, but there's no heat in his words as he's just so thankful that you're even capable of forming any words, no matter how profane they may be.

Beside him, Clint laughs a bit too loud for comfort. Steve wants to tell him to be quiet, as he's sure you're sensitive to noise right now, but God he can't blame the archer for his overwhelming relief. 

Lord knows Clint wasn't the only one to stress over their youngest Avenger.

"First words after a damn coma, and it's 'son of a bitch'! I told you he's a fighter!"

"Of course he is, he's a Stark after all."

All eyes turn to see the billionaire and assassin walk into the room. They look clean and pristine as always, but by the slight sheen of sweat on both of them, Steve knew they rushed here as soon as word spread that you were awake.

(Natasha) "Tooting your own horn a little much there?"

Natasha's smile betrays her words as she looks fondly from the senior Stark to the junior. Even the ironclad wall she has up 24/7 has a soft spot for the team's junior member.

(Especially for the junior member, but you didn't hear that from Steve.)

(Tony) "It's both of our horns, excuse you."

Tony turns his attention to you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"You sure took a hit back there, champ."

"Mmm... 'm feel like a... Nn... A damn Make A W'sh kid...", (Mm, am feeling like a damn Make A Wish kid...) your eyes, though blown out from still being drugged up, wandered across each Avenger. You frowned, then smirked- well, as best as you could, anyways. 

"Where's th' Hul'k? T'or?" (Where's the Hulk? Thor? (As a joke, since usually the whole gang visits, but they're missing))

"Relax junior, you're not that special. We can only afford so many Avengers to visit you."

Despite his harsh words, Tony places a kiss right on your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed, lashes delicately batting as Tony leans away.

(Big block of nothing, there were supposed to be more text here, more dialogue or something. Same setting!)

(Tony) "So. We need to talk about what happened back there. Y'know. The brand-smackin' new A.I. that's in your suit- she's been awfully quiet. Oh, and the- lord, the thing's a work of art- the- what is it? Nanite suit? That's in a collar- a collar? I mean, I'm not one to judge questionable fashion statements, but-"

(Steve, or someone else) "Tony."

(Tony) "Right- but, we are going to talk about all that, okay?"

"L'ter, ple's? Am tir'd..." (Later, please? Am tired.)

"An' b'sides, chok'r's fun..." (And besides, chokers are fun.)

(Line break, basically, you remember you have a certain Winter Soldier that's been sitting at home without any word from you.)

’Oh fuck.’

(Big line break, basically, you get discharged from the hospital, and now you visit the safehouse Barnes is in to check up on him.)

It was eerily quiet when you opened the door to the safe house. You limped into the door, thankful that the ride on the way back, there were no paparazzi to see you leave at all. (Really, Happy should get a raise.) Lord knows how much of a rile that'll get out of the news media.

'Avengers' Golden Boy: Fatally Injured?' or something dumb like that.

You'd love to roll your eyes, but the tension that's coiling up in your gut surpasses the want as you slowly step into the house. It's warm, more so than the slow brewing chill that's been tempering outside. James never liked the cold, but even so, the house was warmer than you remembered. His shoes are still near the doorway, in the exact place that you remembered it to be, so he definitely hasn't gone anywhere.

(Though, the alerts that were on your phone from DAHLIA definitely show that he wanted to.)

For a brief moment, you were concerned that there wasn't enough food; but even then, DAHLIA would still be up, so she could place an online order to refill the fridge at a moment's notice, so it's not like James (even with his super-soldiered appetite) would starve himself here.

You quietly slipped out of your shoes, slowly as to not incur another cramp in your back, and stepped into the hallway barefooted. You glance into each room you pass by, but not a single sign of the soldier was anywhere to be found.

You stopped when you stood in front of one specific lounge room; yours and James' favorite lounge room.

Lurking into the room, you glanced around.

The room looked exactly like how it did days before when you were still conscious. There are a few mugs strewn about. Most empty, conjoined in one area of the table (James' area), but there's one that's filled with your favorite drink. A drink that you don't remember making for yourself.

And it's placed right in front of your favorite chair, too. Something squeezes at your heartstrings as you couldn't help but smile fondly.

It's gone cold, you absently note as you dip a finger into it. Wiping your finger on your pants, you grabbed it and the rest of the empty cups, making a note to place them into the dishwasher when you make it into the kitchen.

"James?"

You called out, but only your voice echoed back. The cups quietly rattled with each step, and it's not long before you make it into the kitchen. It, too, looks the same, but there's a thin layer of dust only a clean freak would notice. The sink is empty and clear of any beads of water. Unused for a little bit, you concluded.

Yeesh.

You placed all of the cups into the dishwasher, which was also dry and empty as well. Sighing, you turned on the machine and jumped out of your skin when you felt a pair of built arms wrap themselves around you tightly.

It only takes a split second for you to realize that, no, this is not some ax murderer that's about to choke the life out of you, it's just James.

James who, apparently, is holding you flush against his chest, fingers curling themselves against your bandaged abdomen. You held back a wince of pain, careful not to make your breathing waver, as James nuzzle his whole head against the crook of your neck. 

(Honestly, for someone named the Winter Soldier, he sure is warm because whew, boy-)

"Ja-"

"I thought you were gone."

His name is caught in your throat as James' voice- gritty, deep, unused- rumbles into your skin. You freeze, unsure of what to say to that as you shuddered, suddenly breathless as he mouths at your neck. Your ears turn bright red as he takes that moment to speak up, not once letting up on his fingers ghosting a trail on each muscle on your abdomen.

"You were gone. One second you were in my arms, and the next... The next, DAHLIA's tellin' me you're in a damn coma."

You winced, not sure how to respond to both what he said or the growl that accompanied it. You looked up at the camera that was in a nearby corner and threw it a withering glance, feeling slightly betrayed by DAHLIA for telling James that.

Thankfully (or probably not), James isn't really looking for a response as he continues on.

"Моя звездная пыль (My stardust)," Russian slips out, bringing a chill up your spine as bits of Winter spills out from James' fingertips, "The witch got to you, didn't she?"

Goosebumps raised on your skin, and to your silence, James snarled. You can barely feel his teeth graze on your nape, and you really don't know if you should feel embarrassed or something else.

And wow, okay, maybe you should tell James to ease up on the "hug", because holy shit, his grip's getting tighter and it's starting to actually hurt.

(Ah, he might tear the stitches.)

"HYDRA сукa...! Я убью ее...!" (HYDRA bitch...! I'll kill her...!)

You huffed, still red in the face as he hasn't even nudged away from letting you go. You patted his forearm, signaling for him to loosen up his grip, and to his credit, he does. Barely, but it was still something. 

"I dunno what ya' just said in Russian, but I know what Hydra сукa means. No cussing in Russian, only in English."

He mumbles something incoherent into your shoulder, rubbing circles into your stomach with a tantalizingly slow speed. You coughed; in literally any other situation this would be one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, but considering that James was more Winter than James right now, and your stomach is literally burning in pain from the rubbing, you opted to ignore the fact that you really liked that James was this close and spoke up.

"Not to alarm you or anything, but uh, if you keep rubbing my stomach like that," your breath hitched, the pain starting to become a little too much, "I'm gonna pass out from the pain," you said, with clenched teeth.

(End of what I had written down. Anyways, not sure where I was gonna go from here.)

Ch. 17-20 are relatively short in terms of what I had written down.

Ch. 17 (Reconditioning) has 3 things typed down:

integrating the twins, thoughts of integrating bucky

supreme distrust between you and the twins

meanwhile maybe thoughts from twins abt you? you're around their age 

3rd bullet introduces the idea that they might be love interests. Maybe. Shrugs. That chapter would be heavier on the character developments of the twins, both as their own persons and their relationship with you, specifically. They don't like you because you're Tony's son, still some bitter feelings there, and you don't like them because... Well... there's just a lot of bad feelings. They helped kill J.A.R.V.I.S. in your original timeline. Wanda basically fucked off with Vision. She antagonized Tony. (And there is a hypocrisy there since I would've written you to have done the same thing there. (Name) isn't perfect.)

You just didn't get along with Pietro since, back when he wasn't dead, you were immature and not yet accustomed to dealing with people who're purposefully frustrating/ teasing/ mocking/ etc. Nothing really personal with him, it's Wanda that you had beef with. But you'll get over it one day.

Ch. 18 (Longstanding) is shorter.

you and james have a talk, and after a year or two being solitary, you agree that he should be in the avengers

he joins the avengers

That's it, that's the chapter.

Ch. 19 (Accountability) deals with newer Accords (not a Sokovian one! Just from the proposed need for accountability).

It goes better around this time, as basically all of the Avengers agree to it, with their own caveats of course. Steve especially, but of course, he's willing to work with the governments about it this time around. Also, Peter Parker gets introduced, in accordance with the "underaged enhanced/ superheroes" clause, or some bull like that.

Ch. 20 (Wakanda) is basically the intro to CA:CW but like, civilized. No bombing since Zemo still has his family. Introduces Wakanda, and T'Challa as a potential love interest. If you're interested in IronPanther, I highly recommend reading the IronPanther Collection by Okyverlo on AO3. It's great and got me a lot of interest in T'Challa as a love interest.

As for official chapters with the plot, that's about it. I wasn't sure what to do afterward.

There were some loose ideas I had about what would happen to (Name). Maybe the truth is revealed, that you're actually from the future, and Dr. Strange separates past and future you into two separate bodies. Future! you into your original future body, and past! you into the current body. Past! you still have the same memories and thoughts that future! you had, but with less angst. Future! you is noticeably more depressed and just a bummer. Lol.

And after that, 2023! you would go back to the future where you belonged, and Past! you would stay in the present since, duh, that's still Past! you's original timeline. It's a little confusing when I type it down haha.

I was thinking maybe 2023! you would pair up with Steve since you realized how burdensome it is to continue to resent someone. Now you understood what Tony meant.

And Past! you would definitely pair up with James, but maybe Steve too. A nice lil' polygamous relationship. 

Now here's the other, non-official chapters.

2 What If's, and 3 Specials, in the order they're listed at the moment.

What If (2013 Counterpart) plays with an initial idea I had, where Past! (Name) was actually sent into the future into 2023! (Name)'s body during the prologue. Not sure where I was gonna go with this chapter, but I really wanted to mess with that possibility, and show just how immature and teenager-y Past! you were.

What If (Swapped Places) plays with the idea that you and Tony, in the original timeline, had swapped places. You were on Titan with Spiderman, Dr. Strange, and the GOTG, while Tony was on Earth with everyone else. That's all I had planned. Maybe you actually won and managed to get the gauntlet off of Thanos when you realized that Peter Quill was about to go crazy over his ex's death, and you knocked him down in time.

Special (Find My Body, Only At The Oak Tree), deals with you and your depression over the reality that you might have to relive the blip again, and aside from the Avengers, you really don't have anyone else and nothing's worth really living for at this point. I actually have a lot written for this one. Not sure if I wanted this to be canon.

Trigger warning: suicidal tendencies.

(Below is the general idea I had for the plot.)

(names) birthdays across the years so far

we see slow mental deterioration of (name) as he aches

we see as we reach closer and closer to the deadline, (name) dreads even thinking about thanos and wants to die before even looking at him, a symbol of their failure 

lowkey highkey suicidal

___

The first time you celebrated your 17th birthday was in 2014. 

The second time you celebrated your 17th birthday was also in 2014... Obviously. 

The first time you celebrated your 17th birthday, the whole tower was flooded with people who you knew and people who you couldn't care to know. It was filled with what little was left of your friend group outside of the Avengers; it was also filled with the rich, the pompous, the irritating of New York.

You got into a yelling match with your dad that night, over something you couldn't even bother to remember, and stormed off into your room, fuming as the party still went on without their birthday boy present.

(It's always like that as if you're replaceable. Surely, you must be; the Avengers can and will, if need be, exist without you.)

The second time you celebrated your 17th birthday, you told your dad you wanted it to be small and personal. Only the Avengers were there, as a few days ago did you spend a pre-birthday celebration with some of your high school 'friends' (which only mainly consisted of playing Smash Bros Brawl in your room and eating an ungodly amount of junk food as you fake laughed along with their shitty jokes.) (Steve promptly made you burn those calories off in training.).

(What Steve doesn't know is that you purposefully ate that much to train with him; otherwise, you had the whole day off the next day.

You didn't want to be alone.)

It was sweet as everyone gave their gifts to you (which you already knew what it was, but said nothing of it), and as everyone got drunk off of the expensive liquor or Asgardian mead, you quietly snuck out of the building and back into the safe house where James was waiting for you.

(He waits, but how much of it is because he has no other choice?

It is not like that, you keep reminding yourself.

Who is to say, other than you?

James never says anything of it, and you start to wonder if he feels as if he has no choice.

As if he feels like he's been made another prisoner, once again.

At what point, what is separating the distinction between you and HYDRA, in his mind?

You're not too keen on finding out the answer anytime soon.)

The whole way there, you thought of nothing in particular.

You quietly celebrated with him too, shared a few slices of cake he made just for you before you quietly said goodnight to him. He kissed you on the cheek, said a simple goodnight, and slipped away into his own bedroom.

Meanwhile, you spent the rest of the night drinking too much alcohol, alone, in the dark of your room, staring at nothing in particular, thinking about nothing in particular.

The next morning, you jokingly wished you had just died last night as you're bent over the toilet emptying your stomach contents.

___

The first time you celebrated your 18th birthday, you spent it outside in another country with your friends.

The second time you celebrated your 18th birthday party, you rented out a bumper kart arena with the Avengers.

The first time you celebrated your 18th birthday, you tried desperately to hang onto the remaining friends you had outside of the Avengers, a chance to feel normal for once. You practically went hiking across Europe and into Asia over the week of your birthday, and by God did you visit so many places. From the Louvre to the casinos in New Deli, you trekked everywhere with your friends and acted as a cash pig for their endeavors under the guise of celebrating your birthday. Least to say, you always got 'accidentally' blackout drunk on multiple occasions, oblivious to their actions.

Later you found out and cut them off instantly without another word. They didn't seem to notice that you stopped talking to them.

It hurt.

Pointless of you to try to maintain that friendship.

So on your next 18th birthday, having long forgone those friendships ages ago, you suggested going bumper karting with the Avengers. Bruce operated as the 'coach' of sorts, but he seemed to have enjoyed it as well. 

It was fun, obviously.

It went on for a few hours, as you all had made up mini-games to play along with as they got bored of chasing after each other aimlessly for half an hour. A few games had you pairing up with some of the Avengers; the other had them actually using their skills to try to maim each other.

(Wanda at one point lifted everyone into the air as Pietro zoomed through the rink; though, he did slip and slam into the wall. Everyone laughed, but it was interrupted as Wanda promptly dropped everyone out of shock.

Everyone was too busy in their own shock as well to notice your labored breathes, wild crazed eyes, or how you clawed viciously at your throat at the sight of Wanda's red wisps. Your fingers were tinted a sick vermilion.

Thankfully, the arena was relatively dim, so no one could tell what just happened.)

It was fun. Everyone didn't hold their shoves back, and when things riled up, it turned into who would break a bone first. No one did, but everyone was definitely sore afterward. Of course, the enhanced ones didn't limp as much, but it made your limp nothing out of the ordinary.

(You tried your most damn not to just collapse completely, both exhaustion and pain threatening to snap your spine into little bits and pieces.

You jokingly wished it did.)

Thankfully, during the whole ordeal, no one noticed how you didn't avoid obvious hits, instead opting to just get harshly jostled in your kart and neck snapped haphazardly to the side at the sudden jolt. Or how you 'accidentally' keep forgetting to put on your seat belt or keep your fingers inside the kart.

Or at least, if they noticed, no one said anything as you limped around the tower the next day, bruises marred everywhere on your skin, a sheen of sweat blanketed on your skin throughout the whole day.

___

The first time you celebrated your 19th birthday, you were too swamped with both college and SI to actually... Celebrate.

You didn't even realize it was your birthday. No one did, actually; it took one of your professors to comment on how your name was trending on Twitter to actually get you to realize what the day was.

But even that didn't change your schedule, and as you moved on with your day, so did Twitter and the Avengers. 

You never got to celebrate your 19th birthday, too swamped with other things to care.

The second time you celebrated your 19th birthday, you had too much free time in the world.

It ended up being just like your 17th. The Avengers had a little get-together (they remembered this time; what made it so different?) and all of them got drunk wildly off their asses. Once again, you slipped away from the main lounge, and stalked silently, blank-faced, towards a balcony.

You adjusted your collar appropriately and stood there. You stared outside into the bustling busy streets of New York, the city that never sleeps.

(Strange, that it's named that when often times it's the quietest whenever you're there to see it.)

You spend maybe 10 minutes standing there, staring into the oblivion that is New York.

And then, you climbed onto the railings.

Standing there, there was no rush of adrenaline that coursed its way through your veins, nor was there any fear or dread.

Only an overwhelming and crippling exhaustion that made waves through your body. No longer are you in your 19-year-old body, but your 27th. No longer are you in your younger, former self; one that shone brightly above the others, aspiring as both a heroic figure and one that would help pave the way towards a better, peaceful world.

No, instead, your soul feels like it's settled deep into your bones, an aching tire that keeps rocking and rattling at your already fractured, beaten down body, laughing at how pathetic you look.

(You're so tired.

You just wanted to live normally.

You never can, you eventually come to realize on your first 24th birthday.

That thought, now fully realized, would come to permeate it's way deep into your bones.)

All you wanted to do was to just take one step forward, off of the railing that you're so delicately balanced upon, and dive into air headfirst.

Really, all it takes is just one step.

And truly, you've never felt more at peace as your body dropped from the railings, descended quickly towards the streets below you.

What should've been a quick few seconds of a dive felt like an eternity drowning in a bottomless pool. The lights of New York flashed and beamed at you, but it changed rapidly from one to another. Your throat closes, shuttering, and you want so desperately to start screaming.

Only, no one would hear them. 

The winds would carry away your screams, rushing a sound of its own that would overpower yours.

You wonder, absently, was this similar to what Rhodey felt that day? 

Well.

You'd never really find out, now, will you?

Too late to ask.

(There's no way to get back home.

You can never see Morgan again- the Morgan that called you her big Care Bear, the Morgan that cried and threw a temper tantrum because you forgot to give her a goodnight kiss. 

You can never see mom and dad again- while they're still here, it's just not the same. You'll never get to see the same Pepper who was so relieved just to see you alive after the Battle of Wakanda, even if you were practically on your death bed. You'll never get to see the same Tony who you spent hours crying into the shoulder of after the Blip.

You can never see the same Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, anyone, ever again. 

Years spent just trying to be better, to help the world, to mend and build any relationships you could, gone.

And even if they weren't?

There's just no way to get back home anymore. Not back to the person you used to be.)

The next day, you got an earful from your parents when photos of your falling body appear all over the internet. All the meanwhile, you're not really listening to them, just staring right back at them.

Odd.

('When did you start looking at me with contempt?', you'd ask one day.

Tony just stares at you, then out the window. In his hand, he's holding a cup of coffee; in yours, water. You've since stopped drinking anything remotely sugary, caffeinated, or alcoholic, though you've never told anyone why.

'When did you start mistaking concern with contempt.', he responded, though it was more of a statement rather than a question.

You stared at him, then followed his gaze out the window. 

Neither of you says anything, even as the hours go by in the blink of an eye.)

(That's all I had written down so far. Not sure where I wanted to go with this afterwards.)

Special (Vapidity, Testament To Absence) deals with future DAHLIA realizing what it means to mourn someone.

The house is empty.

It is an irrelevant thought, DAHLIA notes.

Technically speaking, the house has been empty quite often than not; after all, you were a busy man with an equally busy schedule. Being the CEO of SI and a huge contributing factor to the world's rebuilding made it more or less impossible for you to stay at home for long. Though, she also doesn't linger long in the house, either. But she's still there regardless, even if she's also with you on the other side of the planet for diplomatic reasons.

She knows of the emptiness inside this house; it was never an unfamiliar concept.

But with this emptiness, she's never once associated loneliness with it either. 

It's a bit better when Virginia occasionally comes around to the house to do some maintenance. She might even bring along little Morgan with her.

("You keep saying she's a pest, but I know I sure as hell ain't the one that keeps shifting the TV to the kids' channels when she's around," you comment, not even taking your eyes off of the pan. DAHLIA says nothing towards your accusations, instead opting to tell you that you're burning your eggs.

You aren't, but she says nothing amidst your panic.)

A few others occasionally visit, too, much to DAHLIA's internal disapproval.

Rogers used to visit every day ever since she first noted the emptiness. His behavior was also peculiar. He'd prowl around the house, pausing here and there at random parts of the house. He'd often just... Stand there, seemingly looking at nothing for a long period, before jolting back and continue what he was doing. She's thankful that he hasn't noted her silence when he's around.

Often Banner would come along too, and he'd be talking quietly with Rogers. As of recently, they've stopped visiting though. Probably because of the recent news (that (Name) might still be alive, just lost in time), DAHLIA almost bitterly notes.

James ("Just call him Rhodey- literally no one calls him James nowadays." you laugh, eyes crinkling with amusement) visits too. He doesn't linger for long, but he makes sure to check up on DAHLIA, help tend to the flowers... She'd even dare say she wishes he'd visit more often.

Peter also visits here and there as well. He often comes with Morgan and Virginia, but there have been a few occasions where he's come here by himself. He'd spend most of his time in the garden, your favorite place. And when he's alone, she'd given him privacy out of respect, but even at a long distance, she can hear him talking by himself. He'd come back eyes red and swollen, but he's always smiling afterward.

A few others have visited too, but not as often as the others. Though, none of that really helps negate the emptiness she feels as she wordlessly navigates through a routine she devoted herself to after your disappearance.

And the final chapter, Special (Chemically Compromised) is basically a fluff filler with (Name) chaperoning Peter's field trip, inspired by an Instagram post.

Written in bits and pieces, unfinished. Not sure if I wanted it to be romantic (the name implies it in a nerdy way) or just a fun, platonic, "dude you're literally embarrassing me" way.

(Peter) "I can't believe you're doing this...!"

(Name) "What? What's wrong with this?"

Pan to (Name) dressing like he's a Typical, Normal Civilian Man, but it's clearly (Name) Stark, son of Tony Stark, and an Avenger.

(Peter) "I don't need you to chaperone my field trip...! May could've done this-"

(Name) "No, she really couldn't, sweetheart. She's got a busy shift, and even told me that no one else's parents was free."

(Name) "Listen- this really could have gone worse if, say, Tony, knew. God knows Tony would've dropped everythin' and just embarrass ya- he did that shit to me every chance he got," Peter winces, almost forgetting that Tony was still your dad, and a chill ran up his spine as he imagined what it would have been like for you. 

(Peter) "But still..."

(Name) "Don't worry, I'll just wear a cap and sunglasses."

(Peter) "That can't possibly work."

(Name) "You'd be surprised- Sam's standin' down there, right near that phone booth."

Peter's head snapped over to where you were pointing at, and indeed, right on the floors of the Manhattan streets, there was a relatively built black guy that's wearing a cap, sunglasses, and a brown leather jacket. Peter tilted his head.

He hasn't been around Sam all that much, but he still knows what the Avenger looked like. But even then, he wasn't sure if that man was actually Sam. He's built right, but Peter can't see much of his hair or eyes. Plus, he's kind of far away.

He squinted at the man, before glancing back at you, now unsure of himself.

(Peter) "That's really the Falcon?"

You stared at him, before snorting.

(Name) "Nah, I'm joshin' ya, that's just some random guy...", you glance at the man, sniffing, "... Probably."

That's... pretty much it. That's all I had for Restart, as far as writing goes.

Now here are some closing thoughts, just to wrap all of this up nice and tight, sort of.

I'm not really happy with how the initial chapters were paced and how they were written. My writing style has mildly changed, and if I had the motivation to, I'd love to rewrite them. But alas, I don't.

I think about this story often; or at least, variations of it. It's like when you daydream, and you restart it but to the left. But unfortunately, writing a plot without too many plot holes while remaining as canonically correct as possible, and making it interesting without being a complete word-by-word remake of the movies, is difficult.

I'm not sure if I would ever pick up this story again, especially since this whole chapter told you what I had in store anyways. 

Thank you to those who took the time out of their day to write nice and encouraging comments about this story. It's unfortunate it had to end this way, but I'm glad it happened anyways. And hopefully, it's the same for you.

And remember: the one thing writers love to do is talk about their story! If you have any other comments, questions, or just general thoughts about the story, I'd love to discuss it further!

Anyways. If you're reading this now, thanks for sticking with Restart for as long as you did.

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Masterlist

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I know I had people on the tagged list, but it’s a bit hard to get them all as URL’s change, so I opted not to. Sorry!