#maybe i would be pretty if i was deep in the ocean under insane amounts of pressure...

[xutokawa]

aahh the s/o finding scratch marks is fulfilling my angst needs 😭🤚🏽 could u maybe do one with bokuto & suna 🥺 i love your writing so much!! xx

pairings: suna x reader, bokuto x reader

genre(s): fluff to angst, cheating

warnings: langauge, cheating

wc: 2.3k

» masterlist

a/n: thank you for your support! I tried adding more plot to it this time hehe. breaking bokuto’s heart broke mine bro :( hope you like it! also TYSM GUYS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS FDJSKF i love every single one of yu :D <3 mwah mwah mwah

atsumu and oikawa ver.

osamu and iwazumi ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

akaashi and hinata ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Suna

“Rin, hand me the soy sauce,” you asked, not looking up from the dish you were stir frying.

“Get it yourself,” Suna teased back. Rolling your eyes, you stuck out your hand. Laughing, Suna came up behind you, placing the bottle of soy sauce in your hands before wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands snuck under your shirt, laying on your bare stomach. You leaned back into his chest, sighing contently. The two of you rarely had time together anymore. While you were burying yourself in your work in hopes for a promotion, Suna was busy with practices that extended throughout the whole day. Both of you were exhausted by the time you came home to your apartment together, unable to muster the energy to do anything except fall asleep in each other’s arms.

“Mmm, you smell good,” Suna said, taking a deep breath into your neck.

“I think that’s the fried rice you’re smelling,” you joked back. Butterflies stormed your stomach as Suna’s hands gently massaged your sides. Even after living with the middle blocker for three years, he never failed to make you feel like a crushing high school student. Suddenly, Suna’s gentle hands grew antsy, teasingly tickling your sides. Jumping, you tell him, “Rin, stop! I’m going to spill something!”

“I think I’ll keep going,” Suna teased back, his hands continuing to tickle you. With one poke to your side, your entire body jerked, causing the soy sauce in your hand to fling into the air, and onto Suna’s shirt.

“Y/n! I really liked this shirt!” Suna whined. 

“That’s your fault, baby. I told you to stop,” you shrugged, laughing at his expression.

“Whatever, I’m going to go change,” Suna pouted, turning away.

As you finished cooking, you went into your shared bedroom to tell Suna dinner was ready. You were stopped in your tracks, however, when you saw his changing form. Back to you, long scratch marks ran down the length of his back. Scratches that were not put there by you. 

“R-rin, what is this?” You asked, voice beginning to waver.

Suna spun around, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Y/n! Why didn’t you knock?” Suna nervously asked, rushing to push his t-shirt over his head, “It’s nothing, babe, just uh, got in a fight!”

“Are you sure it was a fight? Or was it a late night in someone else's bed?” You asked accusingly, brows furrowing. Would your Suna cheat on you? You had felt pretty secure about your relationship before now, never having a reason to doubt your trust in your boyfriend. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to make excuses for the lines raked down his back. 

Pain and guilt flashed across Suna’s eyes, and that’s when you knew. You were wrong to believe you gave him everything he needed in a relationship.

“Look, y/n, we can figure this out, just let me-” Suna began.

“Please, stop,” you choked out, eyes welling up with tears. The middle blocker felt his heart shatter watching you back away from him as if he were a plague. 

“No, you don’t understand! I can’t lose you like this,” Suna said, walking towards you, wanting nothing more than to pull you in his arms and wipe your tears away. He stopped in his tracks, however, when you flinched away from his touch, hatred flickering in your eyes. At that moment, Suna felt like the scum of the earth.

“Please, get away from me. Get out of this room, get out of this apartment! I don’t need your excuses,” You said, voice raising. When you finally looked up to meet Suna’s eyes, you found nothing but despair and regret. 

“No! I won’t leave you, y/n! You don’t understand how much I need-” Suna started.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Rintarou,” you scoffed. The pain in Suna’s chest grew at the use of his full name.

“I-it’s Rin. You always call me Rin. Please, call me Rin,” Suna pleaded, voice beginning to shake, “Stop distancing yourself from me. I’m your Rin. Please, don’t leave. I’m so sorry, let me make it up to you!”

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Rintarou! Cheating on me and then begging for me to stay and forgive you? Tell me, what was your plan? Did you just want a quick fuck one night? Or did you plan to keep cheating on me for the rest of our relationship?” You angrily walked towards him. Suna watched as the love you once held in your eyes for him turned into agony. He felt himself crumple knowing he was the sole cause of your anger and hurt.

“No! It was a mistake! Please, let me make it up to you,” Suna reached for your hands, desperate to have you with him.

“The only mistake that was made here was me trusting you,” You said, spinning around as you headed for the door. Suna physically flinched at your words, hurt and shame flooding his body. Panic filled his mind at the sound of your keys jingling and the sound of you putting on your shoes.

“Wait! Y/n, where are you going? Please don’t leave, it’s not safe for you to go out right now. Just stay and let us talk about it,” Suna pleaded, walking up behind you.

“I’d rather be anywhere but here with you right now,” you coldly replied, reaching out for the door handle. Suna rushed to stop you from turning the knob.

“Please, y/n, I can’t handle you leaving me,” Suna whispered.

“Just leave it, Suna. No amount of begging or love can fix my trust for you,” you replied, back towards his sobbing figure. Suna finally fell to his knees in defeat as you walked out of the apartment, knowing he lost you forever.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Bokuto

“Ugh, I’m so ready to just relax,” you sighed out, dramatically splaying your arms across the center console in your fiancé’s car. A tingle ran up your spine at the sound of Bokuto chuckling from beside you, not taking his eyes off the road. You could never get used to his laugh, no matter how many times you’ve heard it.

“I know, baby. You deserve it,” Bokuto replied, taking one hand off the steering wheel to place on your thigh, giving a light squeeze. The two of you had been insanely busy the month leading up to this trip. From your boss’ unrelenting demands at work to your family’s constant nagging and opinions on your wedding decorations, the two of you just needed to catch a break. So, when Bokuto brought up the idea of a weekend beach trip, you immediately agreed, jumping up and down in excitement.

The beaming sun immediately warmed your skin as you stepped out of the car. Warmth spread through your body as you glanced back at Bokuto as he started pulling out your stuff from the trunk, looking up to flash you his smile you had fallen in love with ages ago. 

“You go on ahead and find a spot for us, I’ll follow in a second,” Bokuto called out to you. Giving a thumbs up, you started towards the gleaming ocean, excitement filling your body as you felt the sand beneath your feet. Finally, choosing a spot, you unfolded your beach chair, spreading your towel across the top. A smile settled on your face as you laid down, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the harsh rays. Your eyes drifted closed, the sounds of waves crashing and children giggling putting you in a serene state.

Bokuto chuckled at your appearance before setting up his own beach chair next to you, situating a beach umbrella between the two chairs. He felt his heart speed up as he gazed at your relaxing figure, wanting nothing more than to cover your face in kisses. The spiker felt so much love for you, so he felt nothing but confusion as to how he woke up in another person’s bed two nights ago, naked. His adoration for you was replaced with guilt. Bokuto still hadn’t figured out how to approach the situation, how to tell you without you breaking off the engagement. He wanted nothing more than to watch you walk down the aisle in a few months, than to have children running around the two of you as you prepared dinner, than to grow old with you by his side. Bokuto was still unsure of what happened that night to cause him to slip out of a random person’s apartment in his clothes from the previous night.

The spiker was shook from his thoughts at the sound of your voice. 

“Are you going into the water?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I think I will just to cool off,” Bokuto replied, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Okay, I’ll join you in a bit, I just want to lay for a little longer,” you replied to him, closing your eyes again.

“Okay, baby. Take your time,” Bokuto said, placing a kiss on your forehead before starting towards the water. You giggled as you watched your fiancé run towards the ocean. Your laughter quickly died, however, once you saw his back.

Your eyes widen with a mixture of shock and confusion, racking your brain for an explanation for the long, red strips that lined your fiance's back, but, no matter how hard you thought, nothing came up. The past month had been too hectic for the two of you to ever get close to intimate. Tears began pricking your eyes as the realization that Bokuto had cheated on you settled in your mind. 

Does he know he has scratch marks on his back? Is this his subtle way of telling me he wants to end this? That I wasn’t enough for him?

As soon as Bokuto hit the ocean, the salty water stung his back. His initial confusion as to where the pain came from was quickly replaced with realization. He shot up at the water, turning to watch you get up from your seat. 

Maybe they didn’t see, he hoped. His hopes, however, were quickly crushed as his heart dropped to his feet. You began to gather your things, rummaging through Bokuto’s belongings until you found the keys to his car.

Panicking, Bokuto ran out of the ocean as fast as he could, cursing at the water for resisting his movements. He watched helplessly as you began walking back towards the parking lot. You saw. You saw the scratch marks, and now you were leaving Bokuto. The spiker’s worst nightmares were turning into a reality right in front of his eyes.

The dull shouting of your name from down the beach sounded in your ears. You ignored Bokuto’s incessant calls for you, the ache in your heart overpowering every emotion you were feeling. 

Bokuto ran through the sand as fast as he could, hoping to catch up to you before you left his life forever. His lungs and legs were screaming, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain of you leaving. Panic rose in his eyes as he watched you get into the driver's seat, starting the engine to his car. 

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you took a shaky breath, a weak attempt to try and calm your heart. You looked down at your engagement ring, memories of that night flashing through your mind, forcing another sob to rack your body knowing that your memories now meant nothing. Banging on the car window startled you as you looked up to find a panicked Bokuto. His frantic words were muffled as you watched him desperately attempt to stop you from leaving. 

“Please, y/n, roll down the window. Let me explain, please,” Bokuto blabbered, “Y/n, please don’t leave me, you have to let me explain. I love you! I want to marry you, and you only!”

Anger surged through your body as you scoffed at his words. Rage blinded your thoughts at the mention of your impending marriage. How dare he tell you he wants to get married after cheating on you? Your brain didn’t have time to process your movements as you pulled your ring off your left hand. You watched as a glimmer of hope flickered in Bokuto’s eyes as you began to roll down the window, only to have his eyes widen in pain and shock as you handed him your engagement ring.

“You’re really a piece of shit, Bokuto. You know that?” Tears began welling up in the spiker’s eyes as he stared at the piece of metal that laid in his hands. 

“No, y/n, please. Give me your hand, please,” Bokuto frantically pleaded, reaching for your hand. The ring in his hand belonged nowhere else except your ring finger. 

“Just stop, Bokuto, you’ve already ruined everything,” you scoffed out. As his eyes met yours, he was met with a whirlwind of hurt, shame, and pity. That’s when he realized. To you, he was pathetic. The love and adoration that made your eyes shine brighter than the sun was now replaced with hatred and pain, making them burn greater than the depths of hell.

Bokuto’s heart shattered into pieces knowing you would never love him the same, knowing he broke your trust. 

“I-,” Bokuto paused, unsure of what else he could say to get you back.

“I’m sorry, y/n” the man in front of you choked out. Bokuto felt helpless as he watched you roll up your window and drive away from him, leaving him in shattered pieces.

That night, when Bokuto finally returned to his shared apartment, the reality of the situation hit him. The empty aura filling the space that he used to share with you was all it took for Bokuto to fall onto his knees, becoming a shell of his former self. You were gone.

[cringelordlikesplaz]

Ocean’s Eternity

So. I’ve been thinking about the end of Obsidian Age a little too much. Basically this is the 3000 years Plastic Man spent on the bottom of the ocean. I might do a follow up to this later.

When he woke, everything was dark. There was a sensation throughout his body which felt like suffocation, and there was this... itch. All over. But it was mild. It wasn't important compared to the other, more pressing matter at hand.

He couldn't move. He couldn't see. He couldn't feel or hear or smell or taste or do anything.

Well, that's not true.

He could wait.

~~~

He was on the ocean floor, this much he knew.

~~~

He wasn't being saved. After waiting for however long he'd waited, that was becoming clear. His team was most likely all dead. That was the only scenario he could see where they didn't save him. 

He was in the thick of it, that was for sure.

~~~

He was going to be stuck for a long, long time.

~~~

He mourned for his team. He would have cried if he'd had eyes, but he didn't. Not like the ocean needed any more salt water. He mourned for a lot longer than he should have, honestly. But it wasn't like there was anything else to do but sit there and be sorry.

What finally got him to stop, however, was the fact that they all probably went somewhere nice. Excuse his pun, but there was no way in Hell that the Justice League didn't go to heaven.

~~~

This couldn't be fixed.

~~~

He wasn't sure how long he'd been there. It had been a long while.

He'd taken to counting the seconds, unsure if he was anywhere near correct. No one really concerned themselves so much if the space between beats were too long or short enough. Maybe the Flash, actually. But even he didn't count the seconds.

Or maybe he did. He didn't know. He couldn't ask.

He was going crazy.

He was going very, very crazy.

He knew this. He was pretty sure crazy people weren't supposed to be so aware of their craziness. But when you are aware of nothing else but your mind, he supposed you had to be self aware.

~~~

Every once in a while, he'd have something happen to him that felt like a seizure. It was painful and sudden and sharp and he begged any gods that would listen to let him be. And maybe something out there listened. Maybe something took pity on this wretched thing on the bottom of the sea because when the seizure ended, he'd black out.

Peaceful oblivion.

~~~

He was mad. In more than one way, he was mad. He was pissed, would be the more correct term in this situation. He was mad at his team. At the Justice League. He was so, so angry. How dare they. How dare they?!

They talked shit about him. Sometimes behind his back. Sometimes to his face. They never gave him an ounce of respect. They never gave a damn.

And then they had the audacity to die and leave him there, on the bottom of the sea. Forever. With nothing to do but count the seconds which was probably wrong now that he was so worked up. Great job, Justice League, you made me lose count!

He fumed and raged and plotted and didn't scream because he had no mouth.

~~~ 

The itching was bad. It was really, really bad. It was so, so bad. It was the only thing he could feel. It was consuming every memory of every other sensation. He didn't remember what sunshine felt like, or the rain. He couldn't even feel the coldness or the water or the pressure that was certainly around him.

He could only feel that damned itching.

He hated it. He hated it so much. 

He wanted to turn into a monster and rake his claws across the Earth, he wanted to pull up the land and have magma flow out like the world's life blood. He wanted to shriek and yell and cry and tear his brain out of his skull and slam it into the center of their planet and then maybe- just maybe- he could finally die.

Or maybe he'd infect the planet with his strange body, and then the world and everyone on it would know his pain, know this madness that crawled like a million spiders made of razor blades just under skin that wasn't there.

~~~

His dreams offered no reprieve. His dreams were too lucid, nowadays. Too much time alone in your head would make you a master at your subconscious, he supposed. Except he was still very very very crazy, and so he wasn't quite a master at anything.

But sometimes- sometimes.... his dreams weren't lucid. Maybe he wasn't even asleep when he dreamed, anymore. Maybe it didn't matter. But sometimes, his mind finally calmed, the insanity put away for a few hours, minutes, seconds, all would be soft.

His dreams, the not-lucid ones, whether he was awake or not, had a common theme.

He would be spending time with his son. Whose face, despite so much time alone and insane and in pain on the bottom of the sea, had remained clear as day.

He would be holding someone's hand, and despite how he can't remember the warmth of the sun or a fireplace or a hug, would be warm anyway.

He would be smiling, calm, and happy. He wouldn't be so alone.

When he woke, the madness usually got worse.

~~~

He was no longer mad at the Justice League. He'd finally calmed down. He was still mad, he was certain of that, but that was in the sense that he was insane. He was no longer angry at his old, dead team.

Because rational thought, something he thought had died within him, had found a way to resurrect itself. Like some shambling zombie, it crawled its way up from the bottom of his soul and started to whisper facts to him.

And he was so, so tired of being mad.

They didn't put him here. They would save him, if they were alive. They'd pull him from the depths of this dark Hell and they'd put him back together, piece by piece. They would take away the pain and the darkness and they'd give him back his sunshine and his family and his heart.

Because they were the Justice League. And they were good. 

He mourned for them again, because they deserved to be remembered, even if the only thing that could remember them was the dust at the bottom of the world.

~~~

He was no longer mad. Probably. He wasn't in the best position to tell, honestly. Oh, and he means mad in the sense of insanity, this time.

He was no longer crazy.

It lost its appeal, strangely enough. If he was correct with his counting, it had been around a thousand years. Maybe more, maybe less. Maybe he was completely off. It didn't matter. 

What mattered was that, even though he was sane -saner- his mind was still a wreck. In the expanse of his mind, he stood, hands on his hips. He surveyed the damage. Memories shredded, emotions lost, fear and despair and loneliness on a rampage.

He cracked his metaphorical knuckles.

It was time to start picking up the pieces.

~~~

Slowly, very slowly, he pieced together his memories. Some were beyond repair. He tried to fix them anyway. With patience and care and all the time in the world, he glued his old life back together. His name was Plastic Man, Eel O'Brian, Patrick. Huh.

He was a thief. A hero. A father. 

He had a son. He remembered his son. He never forgot his son, despite it all. But his son's memory did get warped- he'd have to smooth that out.

But, he noted with no small amount of pride, he'd remembered his son's face. Not his height or his age or his voice, but he remembered his face. 

He also remembered that he wasn't a very good father. That came with much less pride.

~~~

In the wake of his madness came clarity. Acceptance. He made his peace with his eternal damnation. Some sort of thousand-year long five-stages-of-grief thing. With a lot more insanity than was usually recommended.

He wasn't going to lie to himself: it sucked. There was nothing good about his situation. But there was nothing he could do, and going mad had only made things worse.

In the wake of his madness came clarity, and with clarity came the realization that he was lonely. Eternally so. He was lonely and regretful and sad. He had so many things he wanted to do. So many places to go, people to see. He had wanted so much.

He didn't know if he deserved it.

He probably did.

~~~

So he was probably still a little bit crazy. Not like before. He was, what he considered, a healthy amount of crazy. 

Just enough to pass the time. Talking to yourself was never considered 'sane' anyway. 

~~~

He was still counting the seconds. It helped things stay in order. He was counting in his dreams, in the deepest part of his subconscious, he counted. He had built quite the internal clock for himself, it seemed.

~~~

Sometimes, he'd stop for a while. Not counting, of course. He had probably forgotten how to stop counting. But everything else. Sometimes, everything else would stop.

His mind would be ever so slow, and nothing truly mattered in those moments. He simply existed, pieces of plastic on the ocean floor.

And it would take a while to come back. He didn't really want to go back, but he always did. And when he did, he'd laugh.

He was plastic in the ocean. He'd been polluting the waters before plastic had even been invented.

It wasn't very funny, but he'd laugh anyway.

~~~

He was in the middle of replaying a baseball game in his mind for the nth time when something happened. Another seizure. Hadn't had one of those in a while.

But something- something was off. It-

He woke up. 

~~~

His thoughts were sluggish. There was- noises and- lights? Pressure. He must have really gone off the deep end now.

And he felt like a pile of mush- of goo or slime- and-

And the itching wasn't there.

The itching was always there.

And he could move.

He may have freaked out a little bit.

~~~

"Plastic Man, you need to calm down!" Superman yelled.

He snarled, "Don't tell me what to do! You're not even real!" 

"We are real! Please, we need you to listen to us-" Martian Manhunter was cut off as he wrenched up a metal panel from the floor and chucked it at him. It phased through the martian, of course, but it did seem to surprise the green guy. His hallucination was very convincing, he'd admit.

The sensations being too loud and painful and too much. The light too bright, the air too fresh. He didn't even know he'd remembered how to breathe.

Suddenly, Superman was in front of his face and was- well he was petting him. It was kinda weird.

But- but his hands were warm. Not only that they had- they had texture and he could feel how tense Superman was, but as the seconds passed and he calmed, so did the tension leave Superman's hands.

"Oh." He whispered. He reached up and took Superman's hand, inspecting it. It was strong, like steel, and he could feel a pulse beat just beneath the skin.

"Oh." He said, interlocking his fingers with Superman's. He gave a light squeeze and Superman squeezed back. He looked up at the man of steel, noticing for the first time he'd shrunken back down into a reasonable size.

A pressure was draped across his back- A black cape had been wrapped around him. He looked over to see Batman kneeling beside him, a hand on his shoulder. He touched the cape on his shoulders- it was heavy and thick and made of something smooth on one side and soft on the other. 

He dragged his fingers across it, reveling in the sensations.

Martian Manhunter was there too, now, and he reached out and gently touched the martian’s face. J'onn allowed him to do that, his eyes shut.

"Oh wow," He said, his voice strange to his own ears.

"...Is this real?" He asked, finally pulling away to look at his hands. They were melted slightly. His entire form was melted slightly. He was also naked. He hadn't even noticed. No wonder Batman covered him up.

"Yes." Batman said, his grip tightening like he could convince him through sheer force of will. Maybe he could.

"...Oh," He said, letting his hands fall.

He swallowed.

"Oh my God." He said, his voice cracking. He buried his head in his hands, feeling his body melt even further.

Someone hugged him. He wasn't sure who. He rested his chin on their shoulder. They put their arms around him and somehow that helped his body stay stable.

And everything was still too much and too close but it was real. It was real. 

He was back.

The Justice League saved him.

~~~

He knocked on the door. He stood there, anxious. The sky was dark. It was dusk. Clouds covered up the sunset. Smog was in the air. Cars drove in the street and the wind howled overhead.

He couldn't stop staring at it all. It was real. It was real. Real in a way he'd forgotten. Real in a way his mind couldn't replicate, not in 3000 years. Though it had come very, very close.

The door opened.

"Patrick," Angel greeted, "How nice to see-"

She paused, taking him in.

"Did something-?"

"Yes." He said, his voice hoarse.

She opened the door for him, and he stepped inside.

"Where's Luke?" He asked.

"Living room." she said, "Come."

Their apartment was small. But not too small. 

Luke sat on the couch, cartoons playing on the TV.

"Dad?" Luke said, brightening. He jumped up from the couch and hugged him tight. He returned the hug, stretching his arms out of his sleeves and holding his son close.

"Dad!" Luke said, pulling away, "You're back!" 

"Yes." He said, "And I'm here to stay."

He turned to look at Angel.

"If that's alright...?"

"Of course." She said, smiling softly, "But I'm going to need help around the house."

He smiled at her, and nodded.

"Dad?" Luke said, weary, "What happened? You and the Justice League saved the day, right?"

"Yeah, Luke. We did." He said, "But I'm not a part of the Justice League anymore."

There was a pause. Angel sat down in a chair.

"Did they kick you out...?" Luke asked.

"No, son, they didn't. I didn't do anything wrong, either. I just-" He choked back a sob, "I can't go back."

Luke hugged him tighter.

"I love you, Luke. With all my heart." He said, failing to keep the tears at bay.

Luke nodded into his chest. He thought he could feel his shirt getting wet.

"So I'm going to stop being Plastic Man."

[free-pancakes]

Dreams and Nightmares

Summary: Canon-Divergence fic

Hange barely survives the final fight against Eren, and is saved by inheriting the Beast Titan from Zeke Yeager in the end. However, the Scouts soon find that this would come with a heavy price--particularly at Levi's expense.

Chapter 3/? Chapter 2 Chapter 1

crossposted to ao3 here: link

Notes: meeeeeep another chapter here ya go

CHAPTER 3

Levi paced back and forth, looking up every so often to stare out at the ocean. He came out to the shore every day this week. Living here on the outskirts of Marley had been pretty jarring, unfamiliar. But the sea was the one thing that brought him at least a little bit of solace. It used to be something quite terrifying to him, but Hange showed him that it wasn’t so bad. She really did have a way of making any situation feel at least a little brighter and a little less hopeless, he thought.

Onyankopon had urged him to relax and not to worry, assuring him that he’d look after Hange for him. Meanwhile, Armin assured him that he deserved to rest and did not need him to help out with his commander duties this week. But Levi knew he wouldn’t be able to rest or relax—how could he?

He held onto what little hope he had—Armin said that Bertholdt’s memories bothered him only a few times, and then they were gone. Maybe it would only be temporary. Levi had scared Jean into telling him a little bit about how Hange was over the past few days, and he mentioned that her biggest concern was that the memories would be enough to cause her to hurt Levi. But Armin had said that his titan shifters memories only ever affected him in his sleep, and the feelings never carried over into action. Again, it made Levi a bit hopeful.

However, his fear that Hange might never recover lingered in the back of his mind—and with that, he still kept that pact he made for himself. If his presence would continue to make her recoil and fall apart as she did that horrible morning, he would leave, so she could live happily. He sighed—he’d find out soon enough if this was the route he’d have to take.

It was just one more day. One more. And he’d find out if…

If he would ever get the chance to hold her again.

That night, Levi tossed and turned even more than usual, so he began wandering the complex in hopes that it would tire him out a bit. But, he soon found himself standing right outside Hange’s door. He stared at the doorknob and reached his hand towards it, and only then did he realize he was shaking from the nerves. Lowering his hand, Levi hung his head and sighed. Before he could walk away, he heard foot steps approach and come to a sudden stop.

“Levi?”

He turned quickly to see Hange standing at the end of the dimly lit hallway, a surprised look on her face. Levi saw her squeeze her eyes shut and grit her teeth, and watched her hands ball into tight fists.

Oh no.

“Hange, I’m sorry, I was going to wait, I swear, please. I’ll go get Jean—“

He paused to wait for an answer, but none came. Instead, Hange came running at full speed towards him, jumping straight into his arms, burying her face into his chest. Levi’s heart raced, afraid to lay a hand on her in the chance that it might frighten her again. But he stared down at her face—her eyes were still squeezed shut, but she seemed okay. He carefully wrapped his arms around her and placed his forehead on the crown of her head.

The subtle scent of coffee and lavender shampoo reached his nose, and like clockwork, Levi felt all the tension in his muscles release.

Hange.

———

Hange held Levi tightly, her mind focused on the feel of him, his rough hands gently rubbing at her back, the smell of his honey-based soap filling her with comfort. The sound of his breaths lulled her into a sense of calm. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused—and it was working!

All week, Armin and Jean had told her to simply relax and rest, but how could she?

Onyankopon shared the same opinion, but he gave in. Hange couldn’t just... lie there. Doing nothing? Preposterous. By her request, he brought her all the Marleyan books and journals he could on memory. And with that, she convinced him to sneak in Annie and Reiner behind Armin and Jean’s back—Hange was that desperate. She only had a week to make progress.

Unfortunately the literature didn’t come with too much more than what she knew already, and she was in a bit too unique of a situation—Annie and Reiner didn’t know their previous titan shifters too well, nor did they have any connection to any of their loved ones. Hange was going in with very little, but she was determined as always. Nothing would stand between her and Levi, not after surviving everything that they did up until now.

She tested different techniques for herself to help rewrite her memories over Zeke’s—essentially focusing on happy memories of Levi along with what she had seen. It was grueling work, she was emotionally wrecked every night that week facing Zeke’s fears again and again, playing it over and over, hoping it would become less menacing with each time she tried. What worked the most for her in the end was closing her eyes and focusing on one object in her hand. For example, she would hold a flower as she sprung herself into remembering Zeke’s fear, honing in on the smoothness of the stem, the softness of the petals, the sweet smell of its nectar. And it calmed her.

And with this trial, it was indeed working. She held Levi and wanted to scream with joy and relief and excitement and a multitude of other feelings she couldn’t even verbalize while hugging her beloved shorty with a clear mind, only her own.

Eventually they both fell tired, as it was the dead of night after all. Hange brought him into the room with her, and patted the bed next to her.

“Hange... are you sure you’re okay with this?” Levi wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.

But with this big victory won, Hange was quite optimistic. She was able to hug him and talk without feeling that same horrid rush of fear and pain like before. And on top of that, she hadn’t had a nightmare since. Dreamless sleep, calm and restful.

It was over, Zeke didn’t have a hold on Levi anymore, and she was grateful.

She gestured Levi to lay next to her once again. But as he put his hand on top of her, she felt a fleeting urge to pull away.

But, she was able to suppress it. She peeked at Levi—he didn’t seem to notice. So, she fit her head right into the crook of his neck, perfectly snug like a final puzzle piece being snapped into place. She focused on his breathing and the sound of his voice nagging her not to drool all over him tonight. She drifted off to sleep, a tiny smile lingering on her lips as he hugged her tight.

———

The sound of ODM gear reeled, echoing into the air. Hange was running through the thick foliage, deep inside a forest. Fear bubbled up inside her and anxiety spread like wildfire all over her skin. Loud thuds echoed through the forest as titans dropped left and right from all sides. She felt the fear increase even more, it’s like she knew only person was taking down all these titans. Oddly enough, the smell of wine also lingered in the air, and Hange wondered why that was.

Suddenly she felt blades slash at her legs, an insane amount of pain zapping through her. She fell, almost in slow motion, and saw the culprit before her eyes.

Levi descended from the trees above, his face showing nothing but determination to kill her. She felt herself wanting to reach her Beast Titan arms forward and strangle him.

——- “Four-eyes!” Levi gasped.

Hange suddenly felt herself holding down Levi under knee, one hand pushing on his throat, and one hand held in a fist in the air, blood dripping over it.

She gasped and saw Levi beneath her, his face bloodied, his eyes wide as he coughed and inhaled sharply.

Hange felt arms grip at her shoulders and pull her back, restraining her.

“Hange! Are you awake?!” Jean yelled.

Hange stared, dumbfounded, trying to make sense of what was happening. Jean figured she wasn’t going to move, and ran for help as Armin stood over Levi trying to keep a compress on his wounds.

Hange felt tears streaming down her face, and she stared down at her hands. She was trembling and her vision was still going in and out of focus. She saw the color red all over her hands, and some splattered over her shirt. She stared at Armin who stood above Levi laying in bed, asking him if he could hear him. Her eyes glazed over the floor, a smashed mug and coffee over the floorboards.

Hange slowly put everything together. But the worst part of it was, Levi easily could have overpowered her—but he probably tried to figure out a way to wake her up without hurting her. He took the beating just so she’d go unscathed.

Jean ran in with Onyankopon and they came to check on Levi while Hange slowly backed out of the room. And then, she ran.

Zeke’s memories had a stronger hold on her than she had thought—one simple dream was a enough to set her off in real life. And it was her fault. Why did she let him sleep next to her? She scolded herself, wondering why she could have been so selfish.

More tears welled up in her eyes and she ran outside, and collapsed on her hands and knees, right onto the grass. She let out a scream and cried out—her worst fear about all of this had come true.

She hurt Levi, and she’d never forgive herself for it.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Fish

For @whump-advent-calendar‘s day 4-6, Burn/Candles

CW: Referenced medical whump and dehumanization, light burn (accidental), captivity, muzzling, drugging reference, reluctant whumper turned caretaker

Introduction | Siren Song | Cries | Here | Not Sure | Draw Blood | Fish | Signs

---

BAHRAM’S NOTES NOTE TO SELF - SAVE IN EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE. DO NOT LET DR. L SEE.

October 22nd, 20XX 3:45 am Mer in Residence: 19 Days

It’s time to admit I’m more or less keeping a diary at this point as I get to understanding him. So far I’ve written separate notes to myself… for ten or so straight days of the nineteen we’ve had him here, and it’s getting harder to write the official transcriptions the way Dr. L wants me to.

Dr. Lachlan insists I call the mer ‘it’, that it’s to help me distance myself emotionally since it’s such a good mimic of humanity, but I don’t think it’s a damn mimic, I think it’s just… human.

I mean, obviously it’s not HUMAN, but… Miah spelled it out for me, we had an argument about this when he first got here. She gets so angry that he’s getting hurt and you know, I guess I believed Dr. L - mer aren’t my specialty field, I’m a snake man really, I don’t know the first bloody thing about fucking cetaceans. 

Anyway, I said to her at the time, “It’s not human.”

She told me, “Maybe not H-U-M-A-N, but P-E-R-S-O-N,” just like jabbing me in the chest afterward. Also, Miah can fingerspell in a way that really makes you feel like a six year old getting yelled at by your mother, for the record. I can’t describe it any other way. I was ready to just melt away from personal embarrassment before she even finished signing “person.”

That’s not the point of this. 

I didn’t start a diary just to tell myself how right Miah is about all of this, but hey, here we are.

I need some days off so badly.

Miah wasn’t around today, it’s really just been me and the mer - I’m off for four days coming up here, after 20 days of work, and she’s going to come in and do 24-hour watch until I’m back. It’s not so bad - I don’t really know anyone here, and the bed’s comfortable enough. Dr. L’s paying rent on my apartment so I won’t lose it while I’m working, anyway.

I still feel like some low-level henchman, though. Like any moment some asshole in a tank top is going to show up with guns and I’ll just be a faceless evil stepping stone before the boss fight with Dr. L. 

I mean, we all know that Dr. L’s going to be the boss fight, right? Anders would just like lay down or throw Miah in front of himself or something.

No, that’s not fair, he really does love her.

Bahram this is all hypotheticals about a video game. Get back on track, man.

So Miah must have gone shopping or something. She came back with a bag full of these candles from this bookstore she really likes. I mean she came back with an insane amount of books, too, but she had this candle she pulled out and put down on my desk.

She set down the candle - it’s this really nice deep blue and has some kind of like ocean scene painted on the label, like, isn’t that thematic - and smiled at me. “This one reminded me of what we’re doing,” She told me, and her signs were… softer. Her expressions were softer alongside them.

Does that mean… anything? I don’t know. She just put it on my desk and then wandered off. I thanked her but I had to take her shoulder and get her to look at me, first. Maybe her face was a little red.

Maybe not. 

We keep the tank room pretty warm, I’m sort of cold-natured and the mer seems more active when we keep the lights really warm, so… 

I don’t get why she bought me a candle and why she looked away before I could thank her for it. I don’t get it, and I feel like I should, but I don’t. Is she not looking because it wasn’t a big deal, or because it was a big deal, or… what?

I really WOULD sink into the floor if Dr. L or Miah ever saw that I wrote this. Get it together, Bahram. You are not writing a diary about Miah fucking Kirsse. 

It’s been just me and the mer, all day. Dr. L was gone, too, meeting with whoever’s funding this whole thing. She’ll be gone until next week, so there’s no real work getting done, for now. Just blood draws.

She’s showing them its claws she took off. I don’t know why. Honestly, I have such a bad feeling about this, but I needed the cash and nowhere else was hiring for a job that would give me room and board and still time to work on my own research. Not that I’ve done a bit of THAT in a week.

I get too distracted by the mer.

He swims in circles. He stares at nothing, or pokes the plastic coral and ferns we got him, or hides in his cave. I can switch the screens over to watch the camera feed from inside the cave, but he doesn’t do much in there, either. I caught him picking at his scales, and I need to ask Dr. L about that. She took three scales off his tail, which for the record I had nothing to do with (whose record? I’m writing this to myself, and what the fuck does it matter about scales when I’m the one sticking the damn needle in his elbow twice a week), and I caught him sort of whistling sadly and picking at the empty spaces. 

They’ll grow back, Dr. L says. She’s not worried.

I am.

A little.

I’m starting to think Dr. L is lying about a lot of things, and I’m not sure what to do about that. If anything. This is a job, and I get paid better than I’ve ever been paid in my life. So… what do I do?

I could call the hotline and report him. It’s anonymous. 

She’d know I did it.

I don’t know why, but… I don’t want her to know it was me. Cowardice, I guess. Pure bloody cowardice.

But Miah hasn’t emailed the hotline, either. We can’t both be cowards, right?

Anyway.

Tonight was tank cleaning, which is a bloody fucking chore. Anders was around long enough to help me get the mer tranq’d and into the lift and then the rolling tank where he can just sit until I get my work done. Poor thing just lolls around when he’s tranq’d up. Barely blinks. 

Doesn’t stop its fucking crying, though.

We took a lot of blood from him today, too, so he was very weak. Barely moved, just curled himself up small so he was totally in the water and watched me work after Anders left. We’ve got a scrubber machine that does the hard work, I just have to hose some things down and then make sure its filter is still operating correctly. Watch the scrubber. Whole process takes about three hours from start to tank totally refilled, as long as I do it weekly. It’ll take much longer if I let it slide.

Double-checked the camera in the cave, and when I walked out of it I saw the mer’s head was up, watching everything I was doing. He dropped right back down under the water when he saw me looking at him. The muzzle looks so monstrous on him, but more than that, it makes him look like a monster.

Maybe Dr. L doesn’t muzzle him to keep us safe, but to keep me from seeing his expressions while I’m here with him all day.

No, that’s stupid. She doesn’t even think he’s sentient, right?

I finished up, and when I came to roll him back to the lift, I saw he’d popped his head up out of the rolling tank and was looking around the room itself. He hasn’t really looked around at all before this, and he was still tranq’d but maybe I fucked up the dosage? Because he was pretty alert, kind of whistling to himself and giving little chirps and clicks. He sounds like some weird mix of killer whale and fucking otters or something. When he saw me, he flinched back down under the water, but I had this idea.

Dr. L took his claws, and he’s still muzzled except when he’s on the table or when he eats, so like, it’s not like he can hurt me, right?

His eyes had gone to my desk, looking at… I guess all my books and papers and my laptop and everything. Maybe the candle. I waved my hand around until I saw that he was watching me again. With those big eyes it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s looking at, but when I clapped my hands he blinked at me, so I know he can hear it, can see me.

Then - and I swear I’m not lying - he moved himself up out of the water, and put his palms together. His earfins twitched out and back against his scalp, and his white hair dripped water all down his shoulders. 

He cocked his head at me. Then he put his hands together, harder this time. He clapped, and then… he clicked.

I KNEW it. I KNEW clicks were questions. Dr. L said their brains don’t work that way, but I bet they do. Who’s even considered how their brains work? Maybe they’re just like us. All the studying I’ve been doing shows that the scans we’ve done of dead ones are pretty similar in overall size and placement of their center of language. They’ve shown that mer populations have their own dialects if they don’t interact with each other, like the Atlantic transients sound totally different than the Pacific transients, which sound different than the residents that stick close to the coastlines up by Alaska...

Making my own head hurt. I don’t even care about fucking mammals, but I guess I do now. 

“That’s right,” I said when he clapped, not like he can understand but still. I said it, and I clapped again, and he clapped back. “Can you give me your head? I’ll take your muzzle off, yeah? If you don’t bite.”

Dumbest fucking idea ever, but hey. 

I think maybe he knows the word muzzle, because he whistled and shrunk down again, lowering his hands. His ear flaps flattened again. I saw the deep red marks around his neck, from how we have to use the catch-pole to get him out, and I just. I just felt like shit, you know?

I’m shit, that’s what I am, we’re torturing a child, more or less, who hasn’t done a thing to anyone but be by himself because he lost his bloody fucking family. I can’t keep telling myself I’m not the bad guy, you know? 

I’m going to jail if I report him, aren’t I? I helped bring him in, after all. There’s my whole career down the drain.

Is this how it felt when everyone was being shit to monkeys in the 70′s and calling it psychology? Did some of them just go along with it because they thought they had to?

This is not helpful, Bahram.

I sat down at my desk and tried to figure it out. His eyes were on me the whole time. I looked over at Miah’s candle, and looked at the label. Like I said, ocean scene. Fronds and ferns and…

I turned the label to face the mer, and tapped on the image with my finger. “Fish,” I said, feeling dumb as hell. I told myself, it’s a bloody animal, Dr. L would roll around laughing at you for this.

But he came back up out of the water. There was a long moment, and I heard him click, and then a soft, “Sssshhhhhh,” sound came from behind his muzzle. They have lips like ours, although their way of communicating is basically whalesong and relies heavily on underwater acoustics. He’s louder in the tank than out of it, although I guess fear might make him quiet, too.

The recordings I found on youtube they get in the ocean are deafening loud. Their voices travel so well underwater, it’s amazing. People sell fucking CDs with mersong over piano to fall asleep to. 

I poked at the ocean scene on the label again. “Fish,” I said firmly. “Do you want fish?”

He knows fish. 

I KNOW he knows fish because he sat up, held out his right arm, and tapped his elbow with a blunt-edged, broken-off claw before he looked back at me, trembling with fear. He clicked again, twice.

I can’t even tell you how shit I feel, realizing he was asking if I was going to take his blood first. That’s what he meant, it has to be. He poked at the exact spot where he’s bruised up from the needle. 

But it makes sense, right? 

He’s been here twenty days, more or less. Every couple of days, when he’s hungry enough, we bribe him with fish to get the pole on him, take blood or whatever else, and then he eats. 

No, WE don’t take his blood. I take his blood.

He thinks - and he’s fucking thinking, I know he is - that he only eats if we stick a needle in him.

I’m hurting a child.

I’m teaching a child to be hurt.

I’m not religious but this feels like the sort of thing you ask for forgiveness for, doesn’t it? I should call Maman and ask her who I could talk to. I’m going to call Maman or Baba tomorrow.

No I’m not.

What would I tell them I need to speak to someone about?

What if whoever I speak to calls and reports him, and Dr. L knows it was because of me?

I need to stop thinking about this. 

“No, NOT draw blood,” I said, and he whimpered again, held out his arm further, closer to me, tapped his elbow again. I knew he could still hurt me - their strength is prodigious, the first time we got him out of the tank he nearly pulled Dr. L down into the water with him - but I decided it was worth the risk. 

I kept thinking, he’s more scared of me than I am of him, but you know, of course he is. He’s the one with bruises.

I stretched my own arm out and showed it to him. He flinched back a little, and then leaned forward again, sitting in the little rolling tank that’s barely big enough to hold him. His blunt claws touched my arm, delicate as a feather, clicking as he poked at the sleeve of my sweater. 

“No draw blood,” I said. “Just fish. Eat.” I mimed chewing.

He looked at me and clicked twice, cocking his head, then looked at my candle from Miah, pointing at the ocean scene. “Ffff-sshhhh,” he said, muffled. 

“No, that’s a candle, it just has fish painted on it. Candle. Fire. Yes?”

Blank stare. 

Then, repeated, “Ffff-sssshhh.”

I sighed and pulled out my little lighter. I don’t smoke or anything, but I hate the way matches smell, so I have a lighter on me basically all the time. Plus, having lighters was a pretty good way to make friends back in undergrad when I gave a fuck about that. 

I flicked on the lighter, and the mer chirped, curiously. 

Has it never seen fire before?

Why would it, it lives in the ocean. Don’t be a dumbshit, Bahram.

“Fire,” I said, and held it out a little for a closer look. “Fire.” I tilted it and lit the candle, and the mer leaned forward, rapt, as the wick sparked up to flame and I blew the smaller flame on the lighter out. 

“FFfffff,” The mer said, barely audible. It clicked and held out its hand, and I wasn’t fast enough.

“No, wait stop-”

The mer’s fingertips touched the flame and it let out a deafening loud cry of pain and jerked its hand back down into the water, whimpering at the new kind of hurt, looking at me like it was MY fault, and maybe it was. Eyebrows furrowed, little crease in its forehead, big sad eyes. 

The big sad eyes are wrecking me.

“Well, don’t touch fire and you won’t burn,” I said, shaking my head. “No touch fire. Fire bad. Fire burn.”

He held out his hand to show me. “Ffff-rrrrr.” It was a plaintive little breath of air, not quite a real sound. 

The ends of two fingers were a little dark, that’s all. I could explain that by saying he’d hurt himself in the tank, maybe. I shook my head and pointed at the water, and it put its hand back in there, huffing a little breath of relief, I think. The water probably helped with the sting. 

“Right. Fire bad. No fire.”

“Ffff-rrr... buh-ddd.” 

“Right. Fire bad.” I stood up and walked over behind him, and he tried to turn and watch me but I shook my head and pointed back at the candle and he sort of huffed again and looked away. I felt him tense when my fingers touched the back of his head, but he sat still.

Probably because if he struggles when she goes to take the muzzle off or gets her fingers near his mouth, Dr. L has this electricity stick thing… 

I’m not supposed to mention that in the transcripts.

I’m not supposed to mention how he screams, and he doesn’t sound like a whale or an otter, then. He doesn’t sound like an animal.

He sounds like a child.

He IS a child

He’s just

I’m a fucking

No. I need to focus. This is stuff I can’t tell Dr. L, I need to write it down here where it’s safe.

The muzzle is easy to get off, you just need to be looking right at it, and I unbuckled and pulled it free, feeling a little resistance from how well it stuck to his face. Without it on, there are deep red lines along his cheeks and jaw, not open or bleeding, just irritated. 

He didn't grab at me, or bite. Just watched me with his big eyes as I laid it down on my desk. For a second we were both just quiet, looking at each other. 

Then he pointed at the candle again. “Ffff-sssshh.”

“No,” I said. “Candle. Fire.”

The mer’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head, echoing what I did earlier. His hair slapped around. His teeth look like shark’s teeth up close, only there’s a lot less of them. “Nnnn-nnnuh,” He tried, shaking his head again.” Nnn-uh. Ffff-sssshhh.” Then he pointed at his mouth, opening wide, showing me the tongue behind his teeth. “Fffff-sssshhh. Ffff-ssshhh.”

I laughed, covering my mouth - he seems to be scared when we show too much teeth, probably in the ocean it’s a threat and they don’t smile like we do. Which, why would they? 

But, see, I realized that he wasn’t pointing at the candle at all, but at the fish painted on it. Then he moved to look at the bucket of fish he gets as a reward for obedience, and pointed at that, then looked back at me to see if I was paying attention.

Of course I was. I was barely fucking breathing. This is signs of abstract thought process, recognizing that the image of a thing isn’t the thing itself. That he can point at it to represent what he wants. “You want fish? Is that it? You’re hungry? Want to eat some fish?”

The mer blinked and made a sound like a chirp, clapped his hands together. “Rrrrr. Fff-sssshhh.” He pointed at his mouth again. “Ffff-ssshhh. Buh-rrrrmm. Ffffsshh.”

“What did you say?” I whispered. My heart went cold. I can’t describe it any other way.

“Buh-rrrrmmmm. Ffff-sssshh, Buh-rrrmm.”

The bloody thing knows my fucking name. 

He knows we have names and he knows mine and that means-... that means he has one, doesn’t it? If he has a name, if he has

I’m his fucking nightmare aren’t I 

I’m the worst fucking thing that could happen to him, me and Miah and Dr. L and Anders and this is a job but it’s the worst thing that’s happened to him and it’s only

It’s going to get worse for him.

He’s going to die here and he’ll know all our names when he does.

Anyway, so... you know... I brought him a bucket of fish.

What else was I supposed to do? 

He knows my name!

He let me put the muzzle on him again without fighting after he finished, and I got him back in the tank once the water was refreshed, and he’s sleeping off his meal now. I can see him on the feed, curled up inside the cave.

But I’m wide awake, so I thought I’d write this, because…

Because what the hell do I do now?

I can’t tell Miah.

Can I?

 ---

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @misspelledwitch @whumpfigure @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @whumpywhumper

[haikyuu-boys-headcanons]

hola dude/sis/pal, i got a suggestion for like a scenario. maybe the hq boys reacting to having their s/o stare at them in a lovesick way? im female but i dont mind it being gender neutral. have a nice day (or night)🥰

thank you for the first request kind stranger , hope you have a great day/night <3

KARASUNO BOYS REACTING TO LOVESICK STARE FROM S/O

𝙳𝙰𝙸𝙲𝙷𝙸 𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙰

“good job everyone, just another round of flying laps and we’re done for the day!” daichi announced as you silently stared at him. usually, waiting for him to finish practice was tiring and dull, yet this time you decided to pay more close attention to the training. it was one of your first times actually seeing daichi as a captain rather than your boyfriend. the way he watched everyone do as he said was oddly attractive. you glared at his tall stance, watching his eyes follow each and every one of his team’s movements. you could tell he was looking out for errors. you sat there wondering if he ever looked at you like that when you weren’t aware. 

“y/n? you okay there?” daichi shouted from across the court, diverting his team’s attention to you. you didn’t expect so many eyes to suddenly focus on you. you abruptly sat up straighter and gave a quick thumbs up with a small smile. daichi nodded but his eyes stayed on you. everyone else went back to what they were doing, but daichi was still staring at you. he gave you a warm smile, glancing down in embarrassment of calling you out in front of his whole team. he went back to guiding his team, but this time, his confidence was slightly higher knowing you were there observing him.

𝙺𝙾𝚂𝙷𝙸 𝚂𝚄𝙶𝙰𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙰

you and suga were out on your usual afternoon lunch breaks together, and today you decided to pick the outside tables. the sun was shining brighter than ever, yet it was calmed down by a cool breeze. you sat there as you watched suga recite your usual order to the waiter. ‘peach ice tea with extra ice, and a side of blueberry muffins’ it was almost fascinating watching him repeating it every time, almost as if he’d spent days memorizing it. you slumped your chin onto your resting palm, watching how the sun brings out the deep hazel in his eyes, how the breeze swifts by his hair at just the right amount of pressure, how his smile comes so-

“y/n? off in dreamyland again?” he smiled as he leaned in closer towards you. you nodded slowly, gently fluttering your eyes closed. suga always had a small tendency to tease you, but he only did it to make you smile. he gently grasped your free hand, resting on the glass table. you looked down to see his pretty setter hands giving you a tight squeeze. as you looked back up, it’s almost as if suga was admiring you in the exact way you were before. 

𝙰𝚂𝙰𝙷𝙸 𝙰𝚉𝚄𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙴

“asahi, trust me! braids on guys are really in right now!” you giggled, struggling to tie the last knot in his hair as he tried to wriggle out under you. his tall, muscular stance was no match for your determination. you sat back as you gazed at your creation. the braids were messy and almost impossible to notice but that’s not all you were gazing at. asahi was truly beautiful in that moment, with the sun reflecting onto his soft face. you slowly smiled, admiring his perfection. when he realised you weren’t looking at his hair anymore, a bright rose color flushed over his soft cheek.

“what is it y/n? does it look bad” he muttered, glancing up at you. 

“not at all” you whispered, leaning in closer and giving him a soft peck on his lips. you could feel his face burning up right before you as he wrapped his hands around you. you couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed about the braids or flustered about catching you staring. either way, you were glad you made him blush.

𝚁𝚈𝚄𝙽𝙾𝚂𝚄𝙺𝙴 𝚃𝙰𝙽𝙰𝙺𝙰

“do you really have to go right now?” you whined as tanaka picked up his training bag and plopped it by the door.

“i know, i know, i really wish i could just stay here with you, but tournaments are coming up this week, i really can’t afford to miss a session” he groaned, slowly pulling his graphic T over his head, revealing his glistening abs. his body was truly perfection, there wasn’t a single flaw on his skin. you began to get lost in thought as you wondered how far those toned arms could throw you. 

“hey hot-stuff? my eyes are up here” he laughed, throwing his head back. you weren’t aware of how hard you were goggling at his blessed body, so you were embarrassed to say the least. tanaka walked over to you, lifting your chin up so your eyes meet his. 

“i never said to stop staring angel, i’m all yours” tanaka whispered as a small smile grew on your face. now you REALLY didn’t want him to leave.

𝚈𝚄  𝙽𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚈𝙰

“noya!” you panted as he sped past you, “wait up!” your boyfriend’s obsession with having races with you after practice was practically making your lungs collapse. you stopped momentarily to take a breather as you watched noya speed off into the distance. the amount of energy he had was insane, it’s almost like seeing a toddler on acid, yet it intrigued you. you watched him jog back and forth, waiting for you to supposedly catch your breathe (you were really just admiring him). eventually, he noticed it doesn’t take 3 minutes to catch your breath and decided to run back to you.

“hey! y/n! what’s taking you so long slow-poke? i think coach ukai’s granddad can catch his breathe better than you” he chuckled, slowly panting as his hands slipped down to his knees. lost in daydreams, you were still maintaining your direct stare into his eyes.

“what is it y/n?” he said groggily. 

“oh, nothing. go back, i can catch up” you uttered between breaths as a sly grin grew on noya’s face. he turned around, getting ready to run again.

“oh and y/n, next time you decide to have a staring contest with me, make sure  i’m actually playing” he grinned as he sped off once again, leaving you with your jaw hanging open.

𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙸𝙾 𝙺𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚈𝙰𝙼𝙰

you and kags were finally taking the train home after an exhausting day of your work and his training and dinner with his teammates. the train was empty, cold, you could still smell the faint scent of kag’s usual body spray. you two were practically almost the only ones on the train, so a little pda was okay with kags rn. your head slowly drifted onto his shoulder, and for once he didn’t flinch or get flustered. he just... stayed like that with you? you looked up to see his side profile, and my, my, was it a gorgeous sight to see. his nose tip was perfectly aligned with the bridge, no bump in sight. it was almost satisfying to see how flawless his face was. you began a deep gaze into his ocean eyes, until his eyes met yours. 

“hm?” he said as he raised and eyebrow. you were clearly flustered, as you quickly shook your head and glanced down at your shoes. he didn’t wanna say anything to ruin the moment, so he just pulled you slightly closer and it’s like you could almost feel him smiling.

please tell me if you would like a part two <3

[imaginepirates]

Modern! Jack

Another modern au where Jack stumbles upon your house in the woods. This is an outdoorsy one for everyone who loves Jack being Jack. You try to convince Jack that the mountains are just as beautiful as the sea. (Poll: which do you like better?)

@emdrabbles​ @tesserphantom​ @paljonkaikenlaista​ @viper-official​ 

~3000 words

~~~~~~~

          The wind whispered through the trees, the light dappling through the leaves to fall across the ground in mesmerizing patterns. You stood under them, watching the movement in the undergrowth. Mice scuttled through the bushes, insects skittered across the ground, and a thrush took flight from its place in the grasses. You walked along a path that led away from your small home and out into the woods. You lived in a secluded area, away from the hustle and bustle of city life. It was nice, out in nature. It was relaxing, and your walks always took you somewhere new.

          You stepped off the path, letting your feet lead you. You knew the area well enough that you wouldn’t get lost. You made your way to a small brook, using the stones jutting out from the water as a pathway across. The stream burbled up at you as you crossed. You were glad to have this space to yourself. Sometimes, hikers came along, and you held pleasant conversation with them. They came down from the hills behind your home, a beautiful range of white-topped mountains that stretched for miles, carved out by glaciers. You could swear that they were the most beautiful land formations on earth. A bird cawed somewhere nearby, taking off from its perch. You watched it fly overhead, admiring its deep blue coloring.

          You noticed the man not long after. He came stumbling through the trees, looking disoriented. He carried no pack, and you worried that something might have happened to him while he had been out hiking. Your fear was amplified by the fresh bloodstain on his shirt. You both stared at each other a shocked moment before either of you moved.

          You moved toward him, taking his arm. He must have been one of those modern hippies; his dreadlocks reached his lower back. There was some sort of dark makeup around his eyes, and his clothes were strange, too hot for hiking in. You brushed the thoughts of his strangeness out of your mind, intent on getting him some help. “I live not far from here. I can help you.”

          “Thank you, love. But may I ask: where exactly is ‘here’?”

          You glanced over at his face, realizing that he was sincere. Surely he had to have some idea of where he was. He’d likely gotten lost while out on the path, but there was no way that he could be utterly confused as to his location. “You’re by the Cascade Mountain Range.” Seeing his still-confused expression, you decided that the injury on his chest might be taking more out of him than you originally thought.

          You rushed him back to the house, a little surprised to find how steadily the man walked across the rocks in the stream. Once inside, you sat him on your couch and went to the bathroom for your first aid kit. You kept one around just in case, especially considering the fact that accidents like this did, in fact, happen.

          When you stepped back into your living room, you saw that the man was standing in your kitchen, casting a curious glance at your toaster-oven. Seeing the kit in your hands, he nodded, stepping back over toward the sofa.

          You pulled his shirt to the side to find a long gash. It was shallow, but it had bled a concerning amount. You bandaged it as best as you could, making sure to apply generous amounts of disinfectant. With the bleeding stopped, you took another look at your patient.

          He wore a bandana around his head with trinkets dangling from it, including a rather large piece of what you assumed to be plastic, though it looked convincingly like bone. His outfit was…interesting, to say the least. He wore what appeared to be a worn waistcoat over a billowing shirt, and he had thick belts around his chest and middle. The very personification of a swashbuckling pirate, you thought. He was the strangest person you’d met in the woods to date.

          “I know you might feel a little confused,” you said, carefully folding a bloodstained washcloth. “You seem to have lost some blood. Would you mind telling me what happened?”

          “Confused is a bit of an understatement, love. I’m baffled. Bewildered. Befuddled, if you will.”

          “And why is that, Mr…”

          “Sparrow.”

          “Mr. Sparrow.” Sparrow? you thought. Certainly not Sparrow as in Jack Sparrow, fictional pirate and dashing rogue?

          “Because I have no idea where I am. In perfect honesty, I have no idea when I am.”

          You almost laughed. The notion seemed so ridiculous. Then you realized he might have passed out somewhere, and was probably asking for the day of week. “It’s Thursday,” you said. “March thirteenth.”

          He nodded.

          “Do you mind telling me how you got hurt?”

          “Oh! That.” He looked down at the injury, as if analyzing it for the first time. “Swordfight.”

          “Swordfight?” At this point, you were fairly sure that you were hallucinating. You’d heard of strange things happening to people, encounters that left people shocked, but you’d never thought that you would have one. You couldn’t tell if the man was a very good actor, or if he was simply insane. You realized that it would be best to call the police. “You should get some rest,” you told him. “You look tired. When you wake up, I’ll have some food ready.”

          He thanked you, sprawling out across your couch to take a nap. You moved over to the kitchen, picking up the phone on the way there. Any man who claimed that he had been injured in the middle of the woods in a swordfight wasn’t the type you wanted to be around. You looked back at Sparrow, who had his thick leather boots slung over the edge of your sofa.

          A glint of metal caught your eye. There, resting by his hip, was a belt. A large sheath hung off one side, and a sword seemed to be inside it. “Excuse me,” you said without thinking. “Is that a real sword?” The pommel looked lovely, and you wanted to know where he might have gotten something so convincing.

          Sparrow cracked an eye. “Of course it is.” He flashed a glint of steel, then returned to his nap.

          You put down the phone. Maybe he's not crazy. You busied yourself making a snack, trying to calm your panicking mind. The man laying on your couch was too much like the actual Jack Sparrow, and you were afraid that you’d hit your head in the shower, or that you were still dreaming.

          By the time he woke up, he seemed very thankful for the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that you handed him. He ate it with gusto, eyes widening with what you knew was the unusual taste of peanut butter.

          “Thank you, love.” He licked the jelly off his fingers. “It seems that I’m in need of a place to stay. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to provide?”

          “Of course,” you squeaked.

          “Unfortunately, I don’t know my way home, and I don’t know how long I’m supposed to be here. I hope it’s not too inconvenient.”

          “Not at all.” It really wasn’t, but it was certainly odd to keep a strange man in your house for an undetermined amount of time.

          The next few days passed blissfully uneventfully, leaving you to tend to Jack’s injury and introduce him to modern technology. Hilariously, the bed was probably the thing he enjoyed most. You had a guest bed, and he flopped into it unceremoniously all the time. You supposed that if this truly was Jack, then he hadn’t slept in a proper bed in ages.

          He was wary of the shower, but you convinced him that scrubbing some of the grime off his face and body would make him feel better. He admitted, later, that it did.

          His wound healed up nicely. It hadn’t needed stitches, which you were thankful for. It had been a shallow cut, but it had bled a lot in the beginning, which had concerned you for obvious reasons.

          He kept flicking open a compass that looked suspiciously like the real one, staring at it before snapping it closed again, annoyed.

          “What do you keep looking at your compass for?”

          “Nothing.”

          You raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that.”

          “Look, lassie. I appreciate the hospitality, but the compass is my business.”

          You frowned. You hadn’t realized that Jack probably kept the compass a secret. From most people, at least. You supposed the people who knew about it were exceptions, given that they had known him for a while.

           You could tell he was growing fidgety, and that he needed something to do. He paced around the room sometimes, and he kept toying with some of the beads in his hair.

          “Do you want to go for a walk?” You asked. “You seem like you could use something to do.”

          He agreed. You left the house with a backpack full of food and water, just in case you needed it. Always better to be safe than sorry. You walked back along the little path you’d found him on. Again, he was surefooted crossing the rocks in the stream, and you wondered what would make his balance so good. The mountains rose up ahead of you, a hundred trails splitting off into the wilderness.

          “How can you tell where you are with all these trees?” Jack asked.

          “I suppose you have to know the paths. Or get a map. Or look for landmarks. It’s pretty easy to tell where you are in comparison to what mountains are around.”

          He looked up. “All your mountains look the same.”

          “That’s not true.” You pointed out the jagged rocks at the top of a mountain to your left, and the smoother top of the one to your right.

          “It’s easier to see things on the open ocean. The sea is the most beautiful thing in the world.” He spoke with such reverence, you could tell that he really believed it. He must love the ocean.

          “There’s nothing out there!” you said. “There aren’t any landmarks to tell you where you are.”

          “Stars, lassy.”

          “That’s only good at night,” you pointed out. “And I think the mountains are more beautiful than the ocean.”

          Jack made a face.

          “Have you ever hiked up to the top of one and looked off at everything down below?”

          “Why would I?”

          “Because it’s amazing. I’ll prove it to you.”

          Jack looked up at some of the towering peaks. “I’m not sure I can make it up there, love.”

          “It’s not so bad, I promise. We won’t go all the way up to the top, anyway. That requires rock-climbing gear.” Jack still looked dubious, but you kept on. “You can’t say that something isn’t beautiful if you haven’t experienced it. I’ve been to the ocean. I know it’s pretty, but not as lovely as the sight off the top of the hills.”

          “If you say so.”

          You led him up a dusty path that connected to the base of one of the mountains. There was a ledge of rock that you could climb up to and look out at all the things down below. You started leading him up through the trees and bushes.

          Jack looked around at all the foliage. His eyes followed flying birds, gliding butterflies, and flowers lining the path. He stared, wide eyed, at all of it. As you climbed higher, he looked out between the trees to see the view. You enjoyed the look of surprise on his face when he gazed out over your home.

          “I don’t think I’ve ever been this high up before,” he said.

          “We still have a ways to go, too. You’re going to love it when we reach the top.”

          He looked back at you with a silly grin. “You’re right: this is beautiful. Not sure it beats freedom on the ocean yet, but it’s something.”

          You couldn’t wait for him to see it all sprawling out underneath him. The true views were something else. You loved looking down over the little valley you were in, trying to find your house in the trees, looking across at more towering mountains, the sun framed by the peaks.

          When you finally reached the top, the afternoon sun hung overhead in the sky. Jack stopped a moment to catch his breath before walking out onto the shelf of rock that extended from the cliff face. He sucked in a breath as he looked out at the view.

          The trees had fallen away behind you, and the shelf of rock gave you an unobscured view of the valley below. You could just pic out your small house among the trees far beneath you. The sky seemed to stretch on forever, over the mountains opposite you, bright blue in the midday sun. Everything looked so small; the stream you’d crossed earlier was a winding ribbon, and the road leading up to your house was no wider than a finger from where you stood.

          “This is…there aren’t words, love.” Jack gazed out over the expanse. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And the air is crisp, crisper than on the sea, even. And there’s no sound. It just...disappears.”

          “I know. Now you can see why I love it so much.”

          “I do.”

          You sat on the rock, enjoying the view and eating snacks. There was the occasional bird whistle, but other than that, you were in complete silence. No sounds from the road traveled up to greet you, and you were there all alone. Jack couldn’t stop staring. Obviously, he’d never hiked up anything in his life.

          He flipped open his compass with a practiced flick. Chewing on a granola bar, he looked down, almost lazily, and the expression on his face changed at once. He was on his feet in an instant. He stepped out off the outcropping, back onto the trail, and took a few short strides to the left. Then, he turned in a few circles, finally stooping down to pick something up.

          He brought it back to you, inspecting it carefully. It seemed to be some kind of broach. Why his compass pointed him to a broach, you couldn’t understand, but you were beginning to understand that this was, in fact, the real Jack Sparrow in front of you. He sat back down, and pulled at a piece of string attached to the object. It had some paper on the end of it. A note, probably. His eyes widened, and he cursed under his breath.

          “What is it?”

          “Nothing.” He shoved it in a pocket.

          You looked at him suspiciously, but decided to leave it. He’d tell you if he wanted to. Besides, you had to head back down the mountain if you wanted anything to eat for dinner.

          You headed back with Jack in a dark mood. He glared testily at the trees and shrubs. Obviously, whatever he’d found in the woods was bothering him. You didn’t want to pry, but you were curious to know what made his mood change so quickly.

          You arrived back at your house just as the sun was beginning to sink over the opposite mountains. The air conditioning felt blissful against your warm skin. A shower was in order, you knew, but you decided to clear the air first. Jack had dropped onto the couch, and you walked up, sitting down beside him.

         “What was it?” You asked gently.

          “What was what?”

          “You know what.” You sighed. “The thing you found while we were out hiking.”

          “My ticket home, is what.”

          “Your ticket home?” You didn’t understand.

          He moved closer, showing you the broach. It was a silver ship, and the light bounced off the reflective surface. Then, he grabbed the note, holding it up for you to read.

          Jack, it seems you’re doing well where I put you. You were never very good at facing your problems, so I decided to give you one you couldn’t run away from. You seem to have acclimated to the future, and you deserve a way back. Just rub on the ship and think of home.

          You stared, flabbergasted. What did it mean? The initials at the end caught your notice. T.D. Surely that had to be Tia Dalma. Was Jack going already, then? Was he leaving you to go back to your everyday life? You’d enjoyed his company, and the more you thought on it, the less you wanted him to go.

          “Damned woman put me in the future herself! I can’t believe her, sometimes. But that’s women for you.” He turned to you. “Well, not all women, I guess.”

          “Are you leaving, then?” You asked, a little afraid of the answer.

          “I do want to get back to my Pearl,” he said, “but I like it here. It’s a nice rest from the ship. Besides, Tia said I needed to do some learning. I don’t suppose it would hurt to do a little more.” He grinned cheekily. “So, tell me about yourself.”

          “I don’t think that’s what she meant.” You smiled in spite of yourself.

          “You’re right. She wanted me to face my problems. And you’re certainly not a problem, love.”

          Oh dear. You rolled your eyes. It was going to be different, if he decided to stick around. Different, but decidedly worthwhile.

          “Tell me one thing,” he said. “Does my not-problem kiss? They’ve certainly deserved it. I mean, they’ve patched me up, and given me a place to stay, and shown me some beautiful views.” With that statement, he raked your body over with his eyes. “I think we can do more beautiful things, too.”

          You blushed furiously. “I suppose that depends. Are you a good kisser?”

          “You’re going to have to come over here to find out.” He winked.

          He was. And he insisted on proving it to you quite a few times. Not that you minded.

[myheadinthecloudsnotcomingdown]

Hi!! So I’m a really big fan of both your quirkless!izuku fics and was wondering if you had any recommendations for similar stories? I dont have a preference for either villain or hero Izuku, or any particular pairing, I’m just looking for well written multi-chapter fix’s to see me through the apocalypse.

So, I have taken this ask as a challenge!

Quirkless Apocalypse (Over 50,000 words)

*WIP

Sorry most of these are WIPs, but I just went through my bookmarks and picked out some of my favorites. 

Entropy*

Maybe it was All Might's betrayal that finally broke him. Maybe it was the torment from his friends, day in and day out, or the crushing weight of society's collective dismissal of his existence. The reason isn't important anymore- only the consequences. Two years after he and three other students vanished from U.A., Midoriya Izuku is the leader of the fastest-growing group of villains in Japan, and no one is left to stand in his way- no one aside from All Might's successor, the next Symbol of Peace.

All orderly systems descend into chaos. No one is immune to entropy, heroes least of all.

One of my favorite villain fics, basically Izuku becoming worse than the league of villains ever was. 

Four Makes One Team*

“Kacchan,” Izuku said, getting the attention of the boy beside him. “What if I don’t want to be a hero?”

Izuku spoke as if he was setting the world on fire. As if he’d broken time in half and let the fabric of the universe collapse like a folding chair.

Katsuki twitched. “Then what else do you want to be?” There was a tinge of anger in Katsuki’s words, the hint of a shout tipping each consonant.

“Well,” Izuku scratched his neck, eyes locked on the stars attached to the ceiling that shown an odd neon yellow in the afternoon light. “Well, what if I wanted to help heroes or something instead.”

(Where Izuku decides he wants to be hero support, learns computer code, and digs way to deep into a villain case all for the sake of teamwork.)

Basically, Izuku and Katsuki meet some other canon characters as kids and basically become genius vigilantes.

Subject: A Comprehensive Report*

Izuku decides early on that heroics is not the only path to heroism.

I did not know that I needed parental Nighteye, but I definitely did. 

Finding Abandoned Hope*

Nothing in life was fair. Some people just had more luck than others. Midoriya Izuku was not one of those people. He learned that the hard way.

Not everyone gets good quirks. Not every quirk is accepted by people. This was a cruel and unforgiving world and Shinso Hitoshi knew that quite well.

Together, maybe they can have the life they both want.

Runaways, Vigilantes, Dadzawa. What else could you ask for?

Ripples on Deep Water*

Midoriya Izuku didn’t expect much from life. He knew it expected everything of him, and he was always trying to rise up and meet that challenge.Except for one little mutation in his genes that made all the difference.Except for one little change in the route home after a pretty depressing day.Or:When All Might crushes Izuku’s dreams, he crosses the path of someone who rebuilds them. Izuku’s going to be a hero... even if it won’t be exactly as planned.Or:How the tiniest wingbeat of a butterfly over the still ocean brings tsunamis to distant lands.

Izuku meets Mei at the right moment and basically keeps his dream alive. Support!Deku with an eye toward the hero course. 

Black Rabbit*

For most people, waking up in the secret base of one of Japan's most wanted vigilantes would probably be terrifying. For Shouto Todoroki it ends up being first stroke of luck he's ever had. Black Rabbit is nothing like the rumors and ends up being his first real friend. For once in his life Todoroki feels like someone actually cares about and supports him, Black rabbit going as far as to get him a new identity so he wouldn't have to go back to Endeavor. It also helps that, on top of being the embodiment of sunshine personality wise, under the mask Black Rabbit is the gosh darn cutest boy Todoroki has ever laid eyes on.

Izuku Midoriya is the vigilante known as Black Rabbit. Pros all over Japan have tried to catch him but all have failed. Nothing is known about him and he's been doing this for years, living in his secret base alone. He never had a friend until he rescued Todoroki. It's a relief and a blessing to finally have someone who knows him out of the mask and likes him as a person. There's a personal connection and closeness between them that he's never had before and he'll follow it as far as it takes him.

Now if they can only keep their respective identities a secret while attending UA

Vigilante!Deku with a healthy helping of Dadzawa and some sweet TodoDeku on the side. 

Who said the only thing green about him is his hair?*

All Might isn't able to get away from the reporters after saving Bakugou and Midoriya during the sludge incident.

Midoriya Izuku, without motivation, Bakugou's words of suicide ringing through his head. He makes a decision, something that wouldn't ruin Bakuguou's chances of becoming a hero, something where he could get away from everything that was hurting.

Izuku decides to run away. Impulsive and hasty, desperate and in shock, he decides that running away and surviving would hurt less than any other option when reality hits him full force.

Runaway!Deku, enough said.

Swan Dive*

The Slime Villain Incident, and the events leading up to it happen one year earlier. Izuku, broken and lost in the face of All Might's words, decides to take Kacchan's advice. But a familiar Underground Hero won't let a young life end so quickly. How will a simple right-place-right time scenario change things?

OR:

Aizawa Shouta saves the life of Midoriya Izuku and finds himself with a new apprentice and surrounded by a quickly growing family circle. What has he gotten himself into? Heavy Dadzawa and Dadmic. Auntie Nemuri and eventual redeemed Bakugo.

The sweetness! The trauma! This fic will definitely punch you in the heart in more ways than one. 

I’m Here*

What if All Might never dropped that bottle...? There was never a chance to prove himself. Midoriya never became a hero. Take a dive off the roof of the building, that's what Bakugo wanted, right? But a stranger stops him and gives him a new dream for the future. A boy's descent into madness and obsession but not without finding a family amongst a number of misfits. To kill some major league heroes. It's all they want to do and change society. What's the cost?

Insane!Villain!Deku. Literal chills, seriously. It definatly gets dark, so be ready for that. Also the league of villains as family and obsessive TodoDeku. 

I’m Doing This For Them*

Izuku always wanted to be a hero, but without a quirk almost everyone he met said that was impossible, but Izuku's stubborn and he never took no for an answer. So he decides to take his dream into his own hands and do the impossible. Even if he can't legally become a hero what's to stop him from doing it illegally?

A lie-detecting detective, a purple-haired kid, and an insomniac pro hero, that's who.

Or

Izuku decides to try his luck at becoming a vigilante and subsequently annoys the shit out of everyone he meets.

Sassy Viligante!Deku, EraserMic with Shinso, basically so much family!

The Yakuza isn’t that bad*

After Izuku was told by his idol that he can't be a hero without a quirk, he realized something. This world, where the quirked do whatever they want, and the quirkless are treated as less than human, is flawed. And what better way to repair a flawed world than returning it to when it wasn't?

Do you want Mafia!Deku? Very unique fic about Izuku taking over Overhaul’s operation (don’t worry about Eri, she’ll be fine) and pursuing a quirkless world.

Independence*

All Might is the number one hero, and has a beautiful wife, they are a beautiful, loving family. What no one knows is they have a quirkless son. When telling he him he can’t be a hero, Midoriya Izuku takes fate into his own hands, and tries to warn his parents he isn’t going to listen is the silliest of ways. He is still planning to be the best hero, even if he has to tear apart the society norms around him.

Bad bio-dadmight. Izuku is basically running on sheer spite at this point and it’s working. 

Nii-Chan! Nii-Chan!*

Aizawa Shouta is a teen who lives by the rules of logic and rationality, in his second year of Yuuei. When his parents kick him out when discovering he has a boyfriend, he finds himself alone on the street.

Midoriya Inko lives in a small flat with her young and only son after her ex-husband ran learning she was pregnant. With Mother and Son sharing a huge heart with un-measurable amounts of love, they find and help Aizawa.

With a new Mom and a little Brother, Aizawa finally has a family to be proud of.

How much found family can we incorporate into one story? The answer is a lot more than you’d think. Basically once Izuku adopts someone, they are family. Lots of fluff. 

Erased Potential*

Midoriya Izuku, determined to become a hero before ever meeting All Might, looks for another way. He might not have a quirk, but that can’t be all that being a hero is about. He has the intelligence, the drive, the determination. All he needs now is to know how to use it. Enter Aizawa Shouta.

Pretty much my favorite Dadzawa fic. 

Net Neutrality (series)

I feel like this should be included even if each fic isn’t over 50,000 words. Info Broker!Deku and Vigilante!Deku with Eri getting the love she deserves. This inspired some parts of Mastermind, actually. 

One-Choice: Vigilante*

Time is a funny thing, the way even a single choice can change the world forever. Every single choice can turn the course of fate in unexpected directions.

Midoriya Izuku always wanted to be a hero. Ever since he was a child, he wanted to be someone who saves other with a fearless smile. But when his world comes crashing down around him, when even the tiniest spark of hope is crashed, what would he do?

This entire series is really good. It’s basically another take on what I’m doing with my For the Want of a Nail series. 

Secondary Colors*

"You got pushed down the stairs... and you're apologizing for it," he stated blandly. "That seems counterintuitive.""Um... sorry?" Izuku whispered. He was starting to shake a little, adrenaline flooding his veins and leaving him cold. He had no idea what Purple was going for with his blunt statements and the hand reaching toward his shoulder as if to steady him, but apologizing was generally safe."You don't have to apologize, dude. I don't know your name, but I doubt it's actually Deku.""Um. Midoriya." Izuku peered sideways at Purple as they rounded the corner. "Izuku Midoriya. Deku is just, um, just what my... friends call me." He winced."Sounds real friendly."

Izuku and Shinso are best friends with a lot of Dadzawa and Dadmic.

Pied Piper*

If they wouldn’t give him a chance then the solution seemed simple, he’d give himself one. He’d force the world to see him, force them to recognize his hard work. He wasn’t missing a quirk, it was simply that everyone else had been given an advantage. He wasn’t broken, or useless, or incapable, and he’d prove it by outrunning all of them, he who was quirkless, he who had started in last.

One of my favorite Vigilante!Deku fics, hands down. Izuku is an absolute mad lad in this. 

We Don’t Need No Fuckin’ Heroes* 

Almost half a year before Izuku's fated meeting with the Slime Villain, our protagonist finds himself running away from his fears.But instead of letting his fears overtake him and drag him back down to the darkness where they think he belongs, he finds friendship in the most unusual places and with the help of his friends they all claw their way up into the light where they want to be and where they truly belong.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Izuku met Dabi and Toga before they could join the league of villains? Amazing Vigilante!Deku

Detective Midoriya*

After the sludge incident, Izuku Midoriya's dream was officially crushed. However, a later experience takes the boy in a new direction. Izuku had never really contemplated being a detective, but his whole life he'd only ever wanted to help people with a smile on his face. Thanks to some luck and an entire police station, Izuku's dream is reborn.

Izuku joins the police force and basically proves that he’s as amazing as we all know he is. 

There is No Such Thing as Competely Forgiven

Deku doesn't become a hero, though he might be considered one to people that have been rejected by society. He can be petty, twisted, and is loyal to a fault. That hardly makes him evil. No, he just knows the worlds got to change and he can't do that from a side that praises people like Bakagou Katsuki and All Might. He also would love nothing better than to get even with a few people that ruined his life...

Katsuki knows that he is the reason that Deku is dead. He just can hope one day he can forgive himself and that others can as well for the role he played in it. He needs to make the world a better place, one that Izuku would have wanted. He needs to be a hero that does more than punch villains in the face. But its really hard to be a needed change when he can't trust most of his own decisions are the right ones.

One of my favorite villian!Deku fics of all time, mostly because of the found family stuff it’s got going on with the league. It’s also got a sequel if you want more. 

A Deadman’s Gun

“I—“ Izuku hesitated, gaping wordlessly, before admitting softly. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to go home. There’s nothing for me, there.”

“So you filled this hole by playing detective— And how long is that going to last, I wonder?” Stain replied, still massaging his chin. “But you— You have potential.”

Izuku blinked at Stain’s chest, before looking up. “Excuse me?”

“What a waste would it be, to let you become a red splatter on the sidewalk.” Stain continued, almost contemplating. “No. No, kid, what you need is a new purpose. Your old one is gone? Well, time to get off your ass and find something else—“

Ok, there need to be more parental Stain fics in this fandom, because this is absolutely amazing!

Hero Class Civil Warfare

Heroes lead by Bakugo.Villains lead by Midoriya.Seven days prep time.Three days for Izuku Midoriya to show why they should be glad he's not a real villain.

Ok! Ok! I know this isn’t Quirkless!Deku but I have to include it because it’s a classic and it’s pretty similar to my fics, so I know you’ll love it anyway. It focuses on Izuku’s intelligence rather than his quirk. 

[criticalrolo]

almost, always (limwen x cassiopeia)

It’s very basic: four times Limwen really, really wanted to kiss Cass, and one time she finally did. 

(your move, @stormslesbian)

The thing is, glitching is never an easy process. Plane shifting is tiring enough, without it being an involuntary process that feels closer to being dragged through a hole than to jumping into space. As it is, when Limwen's feet hit the ground, it's with the full weight of the multiverse punting her around. There's an audible snap as the temporary portal seals itself shut behind her, and her knees buckle under the force of gravity aggressively reasserting itself. She falls on all fours, heaving in a gasp that feels like her first in ages. Wherever she is, it's relatively quiet, and the sudden sound of her panting breaths cracks through the silence. 

Silence, meaning that she is alone. Unlike a few moments before, when a small starry hand had been clutching at her own pale fingers, asking her what all this energy was, why was she phasing in and out of sight, Limwen what's happening – 

Limwen opens her eyes.

She's glitched to some sort of forest, surrounded by tall trees with black bark and creeping dark vines looping across their branches. What little she can make out of the sky from her hunched over position on the ground is as dark as pitch as well, with no visible moon or stars that could help her navigate. And, as she suspected, there is no softly glowing pink figure anywhere nearby, laughing at how she's ripped her leggings in her fall and reaching down to help her up.

Her next inhale catches in her throat, and the next as well. The heavy weight on her chest feels less like the familiar press of new gravity and more like a hand that has reached between her ribs to squeeze her lungs closed. 

A bit frantically, Limwen staggers up from her knees, reaching out to the nearest black tree to steady herself. The rough bark scratches at her palm, and she knows vertigo is to be expected after being forced across the universe in the blink of an eye, but that doesn't explain the dizzy feeling building behind her eyes or the way her throat constricts at how she can't hear a single living thing nearby, or how she should have known better when she thought she'd found someone who she could count on to stay - 

There's another snapping noise, and although she's never glitched twice in a row so quickly, Limwen instinctively braces herself for the familiar pull and tug of the universe tossing her away. 

The feeling never comes. Instead, there's a nearby thump and the sound of twigs snapping under approaching footsteps. 

"Wow, Limwen, you should have told me you were going to jump so we could travel together!"

Cass shakes off the residual energy from her own planeshift and beams at Limwen, who doesn't realize her jaw is slack with surprise and relief. 

"I... didn't realize it was going to happen," Limwen mumbles, her voice rough with adrenaline. "I should have told you, I don't really get a say in the matter." Her hands are shaking as she runs them through her long dark hair.

Cass's face twists into an expression of surprise touched with sadness. "Oh, I hadn't realized. That doesn't sound very fun. Explains why it took me a second to find you though. " She turns her vivid starry eyes to look around at the forest they've both landed in. "Where are we anyway?"

The second Cass glances away, Limwen is seized by the insane desire to reach out and kiss her out of sheer relief that she somehow hasn't been left alone. 

She doesn't do that. Instead, she just says, "I'm not sure. I don't get to decide where I land either."

Cass smiles softly, and holds out a hand towards her. "Want to find out together?"

Limwen takes the hand.

--

"You," Limwen says, pushing Cass to sit down on a flat rock covered in lime green lichen, "have no sense of self preservation whatsoever. Are you still pressing down on that like I told you to?"

Cass grimaces, her normally cheerful glow dimmed to practically nothing as she holds the wad of fabric down over her freely bleeding shoulder. "I didn't think he would react like that! He seemed like such a nice man and those glass sculptures he was selling were so beautiful."

Limwen lets out a sigh, glancing back towards the town walls that the two of them had just been chased from. If she squints, she can just make out the front gates, but it doesn't seem like their pursuers felt the need to follow them further than the city limits. "They were lovely, I suppose. But that doesn't mean you should just grab one of them."

Cass looks at her with an expression so miserable Limwen almost flinches. "It wasn't like I was going to steal it or anything! I just wanted a closer look at the details."

Her voice is earnest, but tight with suppressed pain as Limwen reaches out to peel away the cloth that she'd hurriedly tried to wrap Cass's shoulder in when the shop owner had snapped and lunged at her with a knife. "We're going to have to be more careful for as long as we're here. People are... touchier than expected. Also, this cut looks like it's going to need stitches."

Cass's eyes go wide, the faint starlight that always dances in her irises flaring for a moment. "I've never had stitches before. Do they hurt?"

The rough satchel Limwen always carries is full to the brim with the food she'd haggled for earlier, and it takes her a moment to dig out the medicinal kit. She kneels down next to Cass and tugs her shirt sleeve aside to give herself more room to work. "It can sting a bit. Hold still so I don't mess up."

Before she can think too much about what she's doing, Limwen threads the needle, gently positions Cass's arm, and pierces through the skin to begin sewing her up. The high pitched whine that Cass quickly cuts off feels like a needle piercing into her own heart, but she firmly buries that feeling. Limwen has given herself plenty of stitches before, and knows how to move efficiently for the least amount of pain. She narrows her eyes and focuses on getting Cass patched back together.

When she pulls the last stitch into place, there's just the barest trace of moisture building in Cass's eyes. Limwen cuts off the thread and is seized by the insane desire to lean forward and... kiss it better? She shakes her head and settles back, brow furrowed. Cass doesn't say anything, just sucks in a slightly shaky breath, so she asks, "Hey, are you okay?"

Cass hesitates, and then reaches forward with her good arm to pull Limwen into a hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Not your fault, Cass. That guy was an asshole. If you want, I'll go back in there and stab him right back." Cass lets out a slightly watery laugh, but shakes her head and squeezes Limwen a bit tighter. 

She squeezes back.

--

"Have you seen how gorgeous these flowers are? I've never seen such a bright shade of orange in a plant like this!"

"I... wow, that's really..."

"And look -- when you hold it like this -- yeah, there you go, when you angle it just right they're reflective! You can see the sun setting in them."

"Very pretty, Cass."

"It looks like they're on fire, but in a good way. Don't you think?"

"Yes."

"Limwen, you're not even looking at the flowers, you're looking at me. You've got to angle your head just right..."

"...Yeah, of course, right."

--

The whole world is grey and faint, just bleary shadows that smudge and blur on the edges of Limwen's vision. She tries to blink, tries to clear her head, but every time she closes her eyelids everything seems to shift and spin in a way that makes everything pulse and throb horribly.

Was it the last glitch that had felt so awful, or was it the one before that? They'd been coming more frequently in the past couple of months. Limwen has a vague memory of being forced through a few jumps in a row and the sensation of the universe tearing her whole body apart at the seams, before slamming into solid ground at last and cracking her head against something rough and solid. After that, everything went hazy and dark, until she awoke with a fire lit under her skin and no way to make sense of anything around her. 

She works on forcing air in and out of her lungs. Even though she feels trapped inside her own skin, the sound of her wheezing seems to come from far away. There's an even more distant noise that sounds vaguely musical... or maybe it's someone speaking? It's too hard for her to tell, so she doesn't try to focus in.

What she does notice is the feeling of something cool being draped over where she assumes her forehead is. It feels so nice in comparison to the raging heat that threatens to burn her from the inside out that for a second she's able to make out a glimmer of pink and purple that stands out against all the grey. 

“Limwen? Are you awake?” the music says. The vague shape of a hand reaches out to press against her cheek. 

Limwen’s brain must really be boiling, because if she could have mustered the energy to move, she would have reached out to brush a kiss against the star dotted fingers on her face. For some reason, it feels important and like the thing she has to do. 

She doesn’t have the energy though, so she settles for a brief keening noise that was supposed to be words but definitely isn’t. 

The music sighs, and the thumb gently caresses her cheekbone. “That’s okay. I’ll keep a look out here, and you go back to sleep.”

She trusts the music, so she does. 

–

After glitching so deep underwater, Limwen had thought that surely this was when the universe finally got its act together and actually managed to kill her off. The shifting ocean floor had risen up like a living beast to swallow her down, growls rumbling deep through the water as it pulled at her, when a pink hand wrapped itself around her wrist, clutching her arm and dragging her away.

It’s with a desperate gasp that they both burst above the surface of the ocean, a hundred yards from the shore. Cass is still holding onto her tight enough to turn her knuckles white, panting and running her hands over whatever part of Limwen she can reach, checking for blood or injuries. After brushing so close to death and being convinced she’d never see Cass’s face again, Limwen can’t tear her gaze away from the way the sunlight bouncing off the water reflects off Cass’s beautiful star filled eyes. 

They’re both treading water and trying to catch their breath when Cass presses a hand against her cheek in such a tender manner that Limwen feels like her heart is breaking. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Limwen blames the oxygen deprivation for why she doesn’t think at all before leaning in and kissing Cass right there in the middle of the ocean. 

There’s a moment where Cass stiffens out of shock, and then the hand on Limwen’s face moves to the back of her neck to pull her in closer as Cass kisses her back. The water they’re both drenched in is salty, but underneath it Cass tastes like starlight. 

It’s hard to tread water without both hands though, and neither of them really have caught their breath yet, so they break apart after a few moments. Limwen stares at Cass with wide eyes, suddenly mortified that she might have done something wrong, when Cass grins and splashes her. 

“Limwen, you couldn’t have waited ten seconds until we were on dry land where we wouldn’t have to stop?” Cass laughs at Limwen’s stricken expression. “Come on. I’ll race you to shore!” She pushes away and starts to swim towards the beach.

There’s a light burning in Limwen’s chest as she blinks and watches Cass swim away. Then, with a small smile of her own, she hurries after her. 

[welllpthisishappening]

All Was Golden in the Sky (14/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—

Rating: Mature AN: I love Will Scarlet. That’s it. Also, here’s, like, the explanation for a lot more stuff. Thanks for reading it. As always @resident-of-storybrooke​ @distant-rose​ and @bmbbcs4evr​ are great. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam || 

It’s sunny out. 

Strictly speaking, Emma finds that absolutely and completely offensive. 

She resents it, honestly, the heat on her cheeks and the tiny pinpricks of sweat on the back of her neck, small beads of moisture that fall down her skin in a pattern she can’t begin to think about. She’s far too busy being wholly and entirely pissed off. 

And that’s not even really right. 

Pissed off would suggest that she feels anything. 

At all. 

She doesn’t. 

She feels nothing. An empty shell of withering magic and a distinct lack of True Love because it’s been four days and she hasn’t done much except snap her eyes open when that same sun peeks through the curtains of her apartment, tug on a pair of jeans and t-shirt that are both in desperate need of soap, and slide her feet into sandals that have a hole in the bottom. 

Only on the right side. 

Even her fucked up sandals are wrong. 

Emma assumes that’s par for the course now, or something. But she puts them on anyway, trudging down the stairs and never bothering to check if the door behind her is locked. She’s not sure where the bad guys have gone, is fairly certain she doesn’t care at all and even more positive that Mary Margaret and David are taking care of it, but if they are still some sort of threat Emma is not entirely opposed to them, simply, ransacking her apartment. 

None of it feels right anymore anyway. The jeans are too scratchy and the shirts are strange, a red leather jacket that she feels like she needs but can’t quite wrap her mind around, so different from flowing gowns and shoes that very rarely had holes in them and even further removed from rags and magically repaired stitches. 

She genuinely hopes someone robs her. 

It would give her something to do, paperwork to fill out or a gun to brandish and maybe she could even test out her magic. Emma hasn’t really tried to do anything, the fluttering at the ends of her fingers a reminder of what she’s had and lost and won’t get back, and she’s well aware that everyone is walking on eggshells around her. 

They glance at her and look away quickly, lips pressed together and nostrils flaring in unspoken concern. They mutter under their breath when she stalks down Main Street, which is an absolutely atrocious word, but even Emma can’t come up with another descriptor for what she’s been doing. 

She stalks. 

In her broken sandals. 

And sits. At the end of the dock, sandals next to her because she may be drifting towards the edge of several different mental states, but she’s, at least, got the wherewithal to make sure her sandals don’t fall in the ocean. 

It’s a slim victory, but it’s one she’s going to hold onto with both hands.

Because she’s not sure what happens next. Or, rather, isn’t willing to acknowledge what has to happen next. 

They have to go back to Misthaven. 

And she’s got to get them there. Somehow. With her recharged magic and Isaac’s stupid, bloody pen and neither one of those things are particularly appealing because both of those things mean leaving Storybrooke. 

Emma also can’t wrap her mind around those specific words in that very specific order. 

She takes a deep breath, more salt-tinged air and humidity that she’s sure she can taste at this point, hair curling over the sides of her shoulders. 

The water under her feet keeps moving. She’s kind of offended by that too. The water should be more aware of what’s going on, take a moment to mourn as well, and Emma is quick to realize she hasn’t cried much in the last few days. 

Four days. 

It’s been four days. 

There was no body, so there wasn’t really a funeral, but there was a magically-formed plot in the graveyard that Storybrooke inexplicably has. And Ruby’s muttered joke about good planning on Regina’s part falls impossibly flat, Mary Margaret’s eyes bugging and David scowling and Emma doesn’t respond. 

That’s becoming a bit of a trend. 

And the sun had shone then too, bright rays and more heat and some kind of misplaced metaphor about being alive that Emma resolutely refused to acknowledge. It didn’t matter. The metaphor took root in her brain, sinking into every facet of her being and she can’t get that goddamn Céline Dion song out of her head. 

It’s ironic. 

Or something. 

Obnoxious, maybe. That’s probably a better word for it. 

Emma sighs, body slumping like the rest of her muscles have given up as well and, for the second time, she’s loathe to realize that he would absolutely hate this. He’d glance at her – in all of her depressing and lack-of-muscle glory, eyebrow arching and the ends of his mouth curling, and he’d tell her to stop that, love, it’s not worth it, which is just--  “That’s absurd,” Emma says out loud, probably a sign of that impending insanity and that would make him smirk at her. 

He’d do something stupid with his tongue. She’s positive. She’s…

“Oh, fuck,” she breathes. Her breath catches, teeth digging into her lower lip until she can feel blood. The salt in the air turns overpowering, the taste of it finding its way into her mouth and it’s a strange counterbalance to the bitter tang of blood. Emma swallows, squeezing her eyes shut. 

It doesn’t help. 

The world spins and her stomach lurches, a burst of magic behind her eyelids that feels like a small supernova. 

She hates the cyclical nature of it all. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Emma chants, doing her best to not start panting. That doesn’t worth either. Damn. Fuck, damn, shit, god fucking it all to fucking hell. “Get a goddamn grip.”

She doesn’t mean to follow her own advice so literally, but there is a dock right underneath her and Emma is slightly worried she’s actually going to fall into the ocean at some point. 

That water isn’t very deep. 

She’ll probably break something. 

Then, at least, it will be obvious.

“Shit, that’s melodramatic,” she grumbles. She needs to stop talking to herself. She needs to start talking to other people. 

She knows Regina is frustrated she hasn’t tried talking to Isaac yet. And Emma’s got some increasingly horrible suspicions about Isaac and the longevity of his pen and she’s fully aware that she’s on borrowed time, but that means limited time here by this water and a different dock than the first dock and--

The tears that land on her cheek sting her skin. 

Like they’re branding her. Magically. It’s ridiculous. 

And she doesn’t hear the footsteps at first, is far too preoccupied with consistent oxygen to her brain and at least a few of her major organs, but then the footsteps are a pair and he’d tell her they’re joined at the hip, love, did you think they’d stage an intervention any other way?

“Idiot,” Emma mumbles, mostly to a ghost she isn’t entirely sure she wants to shake. She’s insane. That’s it’s. 

That’s the only answer. 

At least we’re not like that, huh? Able to function on our own, right? 

He definitely smirks and his eyes flash, the end of his tongue making his cheek protrude in a way that’s equal parts ridiculous and endearing and--

“Em,” David says cautiously, a soft hand falling on her shoulder and Emma doesn’t flinch. That’s also a victory. 

Two victories at this point is very impressive. 

Emma swallows, the blood only just lingering in her mouth. Her tongue flashes between dry lips, and she’s only a little confident that she’s actually got ChapStick in her apartment. She’s not sure how they got stuff in their apartments to begin with. 

She hasn’t really asked Regina much about the specifics of the curse. Or if they’ll be required to pack things before going back to Misthaven. 

She kind of wants to bring her coffee maker with her. Just, like, maybe magically enhance it so it doesn’t make that awkward squeaking noise when it’s been used for too long. 

“Em,” David repeats, like she hadn’t heard him before and isn’t simply ignoring him. She makes a noise in the back of her throat, something that might be an agreement, but he also hasn’t actually asked a question and Emma doesn’t need to pull her eyes away from the waves to know that David’s gaze flits towards Mary Margaret. 

Staring at her like he’s looking for marching orders. Do you think our very brave captain of the guard genuinely enjoys plaid as much as he’s been making it seem these last few cursed years or is he simply too stubborn to admit it’s a horrible fashion choice? 

Emma scoffs, not quite a laugh and Mary Margaret clicks her tongue. “Don’t do that,” Emma warns, and she might not actually be talking to Mary Margaret. 

Insane. Absolutely. 

She might just jump into the ocean at this point. 

“I’m sorry,” Mary Margaret whispers, which isn’t exactly the worst thing she could ever say, but it’s pretty damn close and Emma’s neck cracks when she twists around. Her eyebrows pull low when she notices the expression staring at her, glossy eyes and thin lips and David seems incapable of staying still. 

He rocks back and forth, eyes looking anywhere except Emma. She doesn’t blink. She breathes, which is a step in the right direction –  three in and four out, Swan, or your lungs will disintegrate and I really do enjoy your lungs – trying not to consider all the incredibly horrible things that they could be there to report. 

“Do you know what happened to Ursula?” 

Mary Margaret’s eyes bulge. It’s gross. Bulge is a gross word. “What?” “Ursula,” Emma repeats, swinging her legs back onto the dock so she can rest her chin on her knees. “I’ve just--I’ve been wondering, I mean--” “--Is it because you’ve been staring at the water?” David asks, a bit of sarcasm in the question and that almost makes it easier to get oxygen to those organs. 

Emma’s lips quirk. “No one’s really needed me for anything else.” “Oh, you can’t possibly think that.” “Eh,” she shrugs. “I’m sure her majesty has got it all figured out and you guys--did we actually come up with titles? I mean, if Regina’s going to be overlord of all of us…” “I don’t think she’d appreciate that title,” Mary Margaret reasons. She drops next to Emma, careful not to nudge the sandals, but her face shifts slightly when she notices the state the sandals are in and insanity, at least, affords a fairly good excuse for laughing like a crazy person. “It’s kind of...you know, aggressive.” What she’d deserve, don’t you think, love? Those in supreme power and ultimate control should be willing to bend to the wants of the people. 

Emma scowls at her, pointedly ignoring whatever look that sparks between David and Mary Margaret. “Honestly,” she says. “There’s got to be an official hierarchy now, right? Regina up top and c’mon, M’s, what are you? I know it’s there. I know it.” Mary Margaret sighs. 

And David answers. 

“Captain of the guard and--” He huffs, gritted teeth and an uncomfortable air around him that Emma probably shouldn’t appreciate. She tries not to laugh. It doesn’t work. “Her royal highness, the grand princess, Mary Margaret.”

Emma has to wrap her arms around her waist to stay upright. Her whole body shakes with the force of her laughter, David’s quiet mumblings barely making it to her ears, until Mary Margaret is laughing as well, a little cautious and decidedly quiet, like she’s not sure if it’s appropriate and it probably isn’t, but then it’s easier and louder and Emma doesn’t totally hate the tears in her eyes that time. 

“Oh my God,” Emma chuckles. She drags the backs of her knuckles against her skin, likely leaving red streaks in her wake, but it feels like another step and maybe she should throw her sandals away later. 

“It’s kind of ridiculous,” Mary Margaret admits. 

“Kind of?” “You’re more than welcome to grand princess’dom.” “Nah, I’m good, thanks.” “Yeah, that’s what I figured.” “Did you just?” Mary Margaret rolls her eyes – and there goes any smile. Her tongue darts between her lips again and it might be Emma’s small intestine, twisting and knotting and decidedly painful when she sits up straighter again. “I did,” Mary Margaret promises softly. “I’ve--Emma, you are wanted here, you have to know that.” She doesn’t answer. She might hum, is dimly aware of some kind of noise working its way out of her, but it is disingenuous at best. 

Mary Margaret looks distraught. And it requires some finagling and David’s hands on her waist, sure arms and ridiculous upper-body strength, but he takes her grumbling in stride, muttering just don’t flail your arms into me when he moves her. The dock creaks precariously underneath them, all three sitting far too close and Emma definitely elbows him in the side more than once. 

Don’t run, love, it’s ok. It’s going to be ok. 

“It’s going to be ok, Emma,” Mary Margaret says, and she can’t possibly know. Well, that’s probably wrong too. Mary Margaret knows and Ruby knows and even Regina, in all her hierarchy and power-focused glory, knows. 

That’s why they’ve all kept their distance. That’s why they wouldn’t let Emma sit in her apartment when she managed to teleport them to Storybrooke, a last-ditch magical effort that left her legs feeling like jello and half-cooked pasta. 

Because there’s a place. 

And a group. And, maybe, eventually, it will be ok. 

Just not now. 

“How did you decide on the royal titles?” “Belle helped,” Mary Margaret says, and Emma should have figured that. They’d arrived on the Storybrooke town line two days before because, as Will said, if that idiot is getting a funeral, then we’re going to be here and Emma couldn’t argue with that. 

She wanted them there. 

“She’s a genius, you know that,” David continues. “Honestly, and there’s a ton of books in that library below the clock tower we didn’t even know were there, stuff Regina had--”

Emma’s neck cracks again. He squeezes one eye shut. “What?” she snaps. “Stuff that Regina had what? Dark magic shit?” “Emma,” Mary Margaret cries, but she doesn’t turn her head, just keeps staring at David with magic searing through every one of her veins and the dock starts to shake. 

“It’s ok,” he says. His voice is steady, calm, even, a soft determination and confidence that reminds Emma of snow drifts and castle walls and she presses her teeth together so hard her jaw pops. 

None of these things should be happening to her body. 

She assumes it comes from a lack of sleep. 

She hasn’t really been sleeping. 

It’s not good for you, Swan, staring at the ceiling like that every night. You get headaches when you’re tired. And grumpy. 

Emma huffs out an exhale, surprise coloring the sound. David doesn’t blink. 

Don’t do that, darling, you know you do. Despise the mornings like they exist solely to ruin your day before they begin. They’ll get there earlier if you don’t try and sleep beforehand. 

Emma takes a deep breath, a measured inhale and even slower exhale, letting her fingers flutter at her side and the bits of light hanging from the ends of her hair disappear. That’s the first time that’s happened in four days. 

Impressive. That could get you home. You’ve got to go home, Swan.

It’s silent after that. Almost too silent. The echo in between Emma’s ears is far too vast and entirely too depressing, breathing staying normal and maybe even a bit hopeful, but part of her mind reaches out for the voice again and she wants, wants... misses. Him. 

Completely. And totally. 

Her hand moves back towards her neck, searching for something that isn’t there and she hasn’t been able to find it. She’s looked. More than once. More times than she can count. 

She even moved the coffee maker. 

But the ring isn’t there and she doesn’t know where it is and Emma isn’t sure why that makes it feel as if every inch of her is slowly, but surely turning to ash, but thinking about it for too long makes it difficult to remember anything else. 

Anything good. 

You can’t stay here, love. We both know it. We knew it before you got here. 

“Ursula,” Emma repeats, and David’s mouth twitches with something that may actually be pride That’s kind of nice. His thumb reaches out, brushing away tears she’d almost forgotten she was still crying and the touch leave goosebumps in his wake. 

Mary Margaret shifts slightly, wrapping her fingers around Emma’s wrist and keeping her own thumb steady over her pulse point, a light pressure that feels almost grounding against suddenly aggressive waves. 

“When you--” David starts, gritting his teeth at the thought of saying the next few words. 

Emma tries to smile. “It’s ok.” “You’re an awful liar, anyone ever tell you that?” “Yeah,” she laughs. “Several thousand times, I think.” “Smart guy.” “Sometimes.” “Anyway, uh....well, you saved everything, Em. According to Regina and even what Belle was able to find in those books--” “--Not dark magic, by the way,” Mary Margaret interjects, and David chuckles when Emma rolls her eyes. “Just...we’ll get to that part eventually.” Emma hisses in a breath. “That’s foreboding.” “We are bearers of a variety of news,” David admits. “But you’re making it very difficult to stay on task here and--” “--Is there a schedule?” Emma asks. He nods. “Figures.” “Try not to interrupt again, ok?” She sticks her tongue out. And she’s not really sure what happens next, only because the whole thing happens so quickly she’s not even sure it does happen, but David jerks forward and his lips ghost over the top of her forehead and--”You saved us, Emma. Every one of us. The Darkness wouldn’t have stopped, no matter what Killian tried to do.”

He winces at the use of the name, realizing belatedly that Emma hasn’t in the last four days and she can’t shake off his apology with Mary Margaret’s fingers digging into the back of her wrist. 

“It’s ok.” “God, the lying.” “Ok, ok, but I mean…” Emma snaps her jaw several times, not sure how to phrase the words and the waves get stronger. “Well, Rumplestilskin had a point. I kind of made the problem myself. I just--I didn’t think he’d kill him.”

“That’s the part we don’t entirely understand,” Mary Margaret admits, not much more than a whisper. “When we were still home you said a woman in a field told you that the sword you’d given Killian could destroy the Dark One.” Emma shakes her head, disappointment rattling down her spine and threatening to yank her vertebrae out of her back. It’s a disgusting thought. “Nah, that’s not really what she said. She said it would cut ties. That we’d created something with our True Love--” “--I knew it was True Love.” “Yeah, fat lot of good that’s done me,” Emma snaps. “Sorry that was super shitty, huh?” “Eh, you haven’t heard the rest of our story yet.” “M’s, the foreboding shit has got to stop.” She hums, half a smile and repentant eyes. “You two left,” she says, and it’s not the accusation it probably could be. “To use the sword, right?” “The woman. The one in the field, she wasn’t--Killian didn’t think she was human and she...she knew things. Said she knew what he’d be willing to do. I--I didn’t think that would be dying. That’s seems unfair, doesn’t it?” “Absolutely,” David promises, another quick kiss and arm slung around her shoulders. She’s going to sweat to death at the end of that dock. “But he would have done more, Em. You’ve got to know that.”

She nods. Or hums. Maybe both. Emma’s lost control of most of her limbs. “Yeah, I do,” she whispers. “I just...it was us the whole time. The whole stupid prophecy. All that work George did for nothing, huh? I should have killed Rumplestilskin as soon as I saw him.” “You wouldn’t be you if you had.” “That’s also shitty.”

“No,” Mary Margaret objects lightly, tugging on the front of Emma’s shirt. It takes her a moment to realize it’s exactly where her ring would normally land. “That’s good. And that’s what you are, Emma, good. To the depths of your soul and the tips of your fingers. David is right, you saved all of us. It’s how we’re going to get home.” “Explain that.” “Belle thinks magic got....retracted,” David starts. “So, this is where it gets kind of confusing.” “Gets,” Emma echoes in disbelief. 

He makes a noise in the back of her throat and her laugh is wrong. It’s scratchy and shaky, but it’s almost there and--

Sounds alright to me, love. 

“Ok, so...here we go.” David nods once, which Emma will eventually think is kind of weird, but in the moment she’s very curious and a little exhausted and Mary Margaret’s nails are pinching her skin. “We were in Misthaven. There was the mob and the pitchforks and Regina--”

“--Refusing to believe in the sword,” Emma finishes. 

Mary Margaret nudges in the side. It’s not subtle. “She thought the curse was a good idea.” “Yuh huh.” “She did,” David nods, and Emma gets the feeling she’s being grounded. These are not her parents. “Anyway, I’m going to start keeping track of your interruptions and tell Granny not to let you have any coffee or something.”

“If we don’t bring any coffee back to Misthaven, I’m telling you I’m not going. Whatever sludge we had there makes me want to gag.” “You’re a picture of refinement, princess.”

“Tell the goddamn story, David!”

He salutes, which is only a little ridiculous, but also entirely expected and Emma’s smile twists her mouth before she can think better of it. “You were gone,” he says simply. “We were fighting and I...turned around and nothing. And we know Ruby let you go, which, that’s a discussion for another day, but--” “--We also know you were doing what you thought was right,” Mary Margaret adds. 

Emma widens her eyes. “Are you going to take away her coffee?” He doesn’t acknowledge her. 

“The mob got bigger,” he continues, “but then it got...well, weird. It was as if the spell had been lifted and--” “--That was probably around the time I pulled the darkness out of Rumplestilskin.” “See, we weren’t aware of that.”

Emma’s shoulders drop. “Yeah, I know that. And, I um...I mean, I know I should have left, but I...it was wrong,” she admits, words she’s been trying not to voice for the last four days because she knows everything she’d done was selfish and a word far worse than that, but she couldn’t or wouldn’t and she’s going to scratch her neck if she keeps clawing at her own skin like that. 

“I shouldn’t have done it,” Emma whispers. “He didn’t want me to, said he wouldn’t be able to...it would have been too easy to give into the darkness.” “He didn’t entirely though,” Mary Margaret points out, a bit of unsurprising hope when a few clouds start to dot the sky. “Not really.” “The light in the dark,” David adds. “That was you, Em. For him.” “God, that’s sentimental.” “Yeah, that’s kind of True Love’s schtick, isn’t it?” “You guys would know.” He grimaces – not the response Emma expected and she still hasn’t gotten answers to any of her questions. 

“See, that’s kind of the crux of why we’re here.” Emma blinks. “The giving me space wasn’t entirely giving me space, was it?” “We sound like assholes that way.” “Well…”

He barks out a laugh, shaking a few birds off a nearby power line and Emma is going to miss electricity too. Mary Margaret has to let go of her hand to wave her own, calming the birds and mumbling words under her breath. 

David’s breath hitches. 

“You said Belle believes magic kind of pulled in on itself,” Emma says slowly, as if taking time on each letter will make them easier to understand. “Was that...ok, so darkness got defeated and all the good magic--” “--Your magic,” Mary Margaret amends. “Savior magic?” David nods, mumbling something that sounds like keep going under his breath. “So, that um...that kind of yanked everything back here to Storybrooke because that’s where we landed after the curse and that was--what’s an appropriate cliché for that?” “Eye of the storm.” “Oh, that’s good, actually.” “Granny came up with that,” Mary Margaret mutters. “Don’t let him take credit for it.”

Emma scoffs, another slightly pitiful laugh. “Ok, ok, so we’re here and in the center of it all and that means the rest of this realm is...magicless? Again?” “Ding, ding, ding,” David says. “So, really, you don’t have to worry about any of the lackies you left behind in New York because they’re stuck. No magic, no nothing. You kind of yanked it with you when you got rid of the Dark One.” “Killian.” David shakes his head. “The Dark One.” “And its minions,” Emma adds, appreciating whatever his face does when he corrects him. Mary Margaret’s laughing. “We decided on minions and I don’t think it’s right, at this point in the story, to start calling them something different just because you can’t remember. I think that’s a sign of you age, o ye captain of the guard.”

He scowls, but there’s no frustration in it – just generic gratitude and that same sense of pride that Emma is very quickly starting to hoard and hold, a soft glow in the center of her that makes her remember good things and good moments and--

You’ve got to be able to let me go, love. You have to. 

Emma exhales, far too much emotion. She’ll be damned if she cries again. “How did we get here, though?”

Mary Margaret stops laughing. Suddenly. Abruptly. And David’s whole body goes stiff, lips all but disappearing from his face, the top line of his teeth obvious as soon as he digs them far enough down that Emma is briefly worried about his chin. 

She lowers her brows. “I just...I guess I’ve been wondering about that for a little while, why Regina would pick Maine and middle of nowhere Maine really, we’re not even near Boston or anything and--why did we remember that we had magic if we didn’t remember who we were and--you know, maybe I should just ask her, do you guys have paper or something? I should have a list of demands or whatever.”

Emma pushes up, wobbly, but incredibly determined legs, and she barely regains her center of balance before it’s threatened again, David’s fingers yanking at her wrist. She gapes at him, magic flaring in self-defense. 

That’s weird. 

She can see him swallow, a tension in his jaw and terror in his gaze and they’ve won. The minions are magicless. She could not possibly care less what happened to Rumplestilskin. 

There should be no more terror. 

There should be--

“It was us,” Mary Margaret whispers. 

Emma’s lungs evaporate. It’s painful. And not. Which is also weird. It’s kind of...empty again, a return to husk form and that is another terrible word, but Emma’s body suddenly feels very brittle and incredibly fragile, like one good gust of wind or another secret could shatter her completely. 

She lifts her eyebrows that time. 

“What? What does that mean?” “Us,” Mary Margaret repeats, tears already streaming down her cheeks and David is going to have to look up spells on how to replace body parts. His lips are just...gone. “Us. Not Regina. The, um...the curse. We cast it.”

Emma is a little disappointed at her reaction. More specifically – her lack of reaction. She doesn’t move She doesn’t blink or open her mouth. She stares ahead at open water and choppy waves. She wishes she could do something. 

She wants to do something. 

Desperately. 

She wants to scream and shout and he’d remembered her, even when they were cursed and after they were cursed and he kept trying to find a way back. Her magic had pulled her to him.

Emma doesn’t do any of those things. 

She inhales, tongue swiping over the front of her teeth, and pulling her hand out of David’s grip. “How is that possible?” Emma asks, a picture of poise that is, very likely, the worst lie she’s ever told in her life. 

Mary Margaret sniffles. “You said it yourself. When we were--in the throne room.” It’s strange that she can’t call Misthaven home anymore. “When Regina was talking about the curse, she said that the only way to enact it was to crush the heart of the thing you love the most. And she--well, there wasn’t really another option.” “Nope. Try that again. Because what you just told me doesn’t make any sense.” “It does,” Mary Margaret says, voice turning almost pleading. “It’s...ok, you said it, Emma! Regina didn’t have anyone. No one that she felt strongly enough about to send us here.” “Seems like a shitty curse to suggest then.” She resists the growing urge to pace, far too aware of the lack of sandals on her feet, opting, instead, to fist her hands at her side and whatever noise she makes doesn’t sound particularly human. “Ok, ok, ok,” Emma mumbles, a pitiful attempt at psyching herself up for the rest of this conversation. “So...how do you guys factor into this? I don’t--” Emma cuts herself off, nearly snapping her tongue in half in the process. Her magic flares, beams of light at the tips of her fingers and a circle around her right knee and it takes her one quick jerk of her arms and narrowed eyes for it to disappear. 

She can still feel it, the pulse of it beating out a steady rhythm in her ears, but it’s the first time in...ever, maybe, that she’s been that controlled. She’s never felt that confident. Ever.

“Damn,” David breathes, a hand running through his hair and Emma can’t even bring herself to be annoyed by the glance he shoots Mary Margaret. 

Mostly because Mary Margaret doesn’t react. 

She’s staring at Emma – a mix of trepidation and regret and knowing about True Love before just about anyone else. 

“You could feel David’s magic here,” Emma says. “That never happened in Misthaven. You told me that.”

Mary Margaret nods slowly, chewing on the side of her tongue. “I think that’s why this is...our fault. Kind of.” “Kind of?” “Entirely.” “Explain that,” Emma mutters, but the words sound more like a demand and Mary Margaret nods quicker that time. 

“Regina couldn’t cast the curse. You were--we knew you’d gone to find the Dark One, but, like David said, the mob kind of lost its will at some point. And then it was...a disaster, honestly. It was people from town with magic and without magic and all of them questioning us and what we were going to do and where you had gone and the pirate threat.”

Emma scoffs at that, working half a smile out of Mary Margaret. David reaches for both of their hands. “So, we were trying to fix everything and we had no idea what had happened. We...we tried to find you, Emma. We couldn’t.” “What?” “We couldn’t,” David echoes. “Scoured the whole kingdom, even went towards that hill you had talked about, but there was no one there. It was--” He shakes his head at the memory, all teeth and obvious regret. “It was like we were being pushed away from it. I could barely keep my feet when I got there.” “Magic?” “Kind of makes it seem like it’s very possible that you could pull all the magic in this realm to Storybrooke, huh? And keep people from getting in.” “You think that was me?” Emma shouts, disbelief ringing in the suddenly-heavy air around them. David shrugs. “I wasn’t---I wasn’t trying to do that, though. Especially not here. That’s insane.” “A savior and the protector of magic,” David reasons. “It really makes sense, Em. It makes more sense at home. If you were...what were you waiting for?”

Emma doesn’t answer. Can’t. Won’t. The specifics really don’t matter, not when the questions sitting on the tip of her tongue are getting heavier the longer they stay there. 

Mary Margaret winces. “We couldn’t find you,” she mutters. “But we were, well I was, hopeful, at least, that you were still in the kingdom and Regina was certain the curse would only pull in the people we wanted it to.” “That’s why Killian didn’t come with it. The darkness got in the way.” “I’m so sorry, Emma.” “I still don’t understand why.”

“I told you,” Mary Margaret murmurs, and it’s getting more and more difficult to understand her when her tears keep falling faster and faster. “It was us. We didn’t think we had any other options. We--the curse made sense, hiding in a different realm and even if the magic disappeared eventually, well...we’d be together, wouldn’t we?” “Not all of us.” “I know, I know, but we didn’t--” “--Know that Rumplestilskin had tried to kill Killian.” “Exactly.” “So…” “So. Regina said the only way to get here was to crush the heart, but there was no one. And Ruby wouldn’t do it, so that left--” “--Us,” David cuts in, the letters hard and defensive. “Hurt like hell.”

Emma’s left knee gives out. Only her left one. She’s worried she’s got splinters in her foot. “What, that’s--what?” she sputters, breathless and stunned and her head hurts. “How is that possible? Mary Margaret crushed your heart?” He hums. “Yeah, I’ll admit I was kind of selfish about it. I wasn’t all that interested in killing her and we weren’t sure if it would work, so…”

“What wouldn’t work?” “I couldn’t kill him,” Mary Margaret explains. “I--I can’t even think about doing that, even now, I...” “Yeah, I get that,” Emma mumbles, earning a soft smile and cool palm on her cheek. 

“I know you do. And that’s why I am so sorry. I am...I won’t ever be able to tell you how sorry I am because I think that’s what messed it all up.” She swallows, a quick exhale that reeks of determination and Emma’s smile is very out of place. “I’d heard about it,” Mary Margaret adds, “the idea that one heart could exist in two bodies. Regina agreed that it should be possible.” “David’s not dead, though.” “Yeah, it worked out pretty well, huh?” he quips, and Emma doesn’t consider her feet before she kicks him in the shin. 

“It all happened very quickly and so impossibly slowly,” Mary Margaret continues. “Regina took his heart and it--I’d forgotten....what it felt like, but as soon as the curse broke, that’s the first thing I remembered, the feel of it in my hand, not quite ash, but scratchier, like it was carving into me.

And he was dead. He was. Right in front of me. The magic was already starting to move, a sea of purple and a cloud of power and Regina’s hand in my chest.” “Shit,” Emma mumbles, Mary Margaret humming in agreement. 

“That’s about the best way to describe it. I felt like I was getting ripped apart.” “You were.” Mary Margaret scrunches her nose. “Well, it hurt. And then Regina was snapping it in half and that hurt even more. The rest is all a little blurry, but I kind of remember her putting half of my heart into David. And I know, I think I know, at least, I heard him breathing again before the cloud touched us and then we were--” “--Here?” “Here,” Mary Margaret repeats. “Middle of nowhere Maine.” She lets out a watery laugh when Emma does the same and for a moment they’re not much more than twisted limbs and foreheads resting against each other. “I’m so sorry,” Mary Margaret says eventually. “For...for all of it. For not finding you and not knowing and--oh, he loved you more than anything, Emma.”

Emma isn’t sure there is a word in any language – English or Greek or Egyptian hieroglyphics – to describe whatever noise bubbles out of her, but it might be close to a whimper and it’s so goddamn depressing. 

She is so goddamn depressing. 

They have to get out of the middle of nowhere Maine. 

They’ve still got a kingdom to save. 

“So, let me get this straight,” she mutters. “You two have been sharing the same heart the entire time we’ve been here, but you didn’t remember it? That’s absolutely nuts, you realize that?” “You may have to reexamine your barometer for nuts, Em,” David says. 

“That’s a fair point.” “We’ve been talking to Regina about that too,” Mary Margaret admits, eyeing Emma when her mouth drops. “Ok, we really weren’t avoiding you. Or this conversation. We just--” “Weren’t gunning for it either,” David interrupts. “Also, Mary Margaret is right. He would have done everything and then some for you, your highness. Willingly, even.” “I was never looking for him to play martyr,” Emma sneers. 

Mary Margaret’s hand is still on her cheek. It must be hurting her arm. “And he wasn’t,” she guarantees, words Emma can’t bring herself to argue. “That’s not what it was, Emma. It was--ok, you want truth? Here’s truth. He shouldn’t have died. He shouldn’t have. Killian didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve that. The whole goddamn world deserved a better ending than anything that we’ve gotten so far, but we have made mistakes. All of us. We’ve been twisted and turned and thrown into a story that wasn’t really ours to begin with, falling into a prophecy that claimed us before we even knew what those words could possibly mean. 

And it’s not fair. It’s the opposite of that. But we have fought and clawed for every bit of happiness we have gotten and Killian Jones loved you Emma Swan. More than anything else. Enough that anything else wasn’t even remotely important when it stacked up against you. He fought the darkness to get back to you. He could feel your magic, Emma. That kind of thing doesn’t happen every day.”

She’s crying again. 

It’s patently stupid. And entirely expected. 

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” Mary Margaret adds, another round of mind reading that Emma appreciates because she seems to have misplaced her ability to communicate. “I’m not sure it ever will.” “This is not one of your best speeches, M’s,” Emma grumbles. 

Mary Margaret smiles. “Let me finish then. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. And I am sorry to have been even part of the cause of that. But we weren’t avoiding you, Emma. We would never do that. Because we love you too. And it shouldn’t have happened like this, but maybe, eventually, that pain can recede just a bit and you won’t hate the sun quite so much.” “Gods, how do you do that?” “Years of experience.” “I love you too, you know that?” “I do,” Mary Margaret nods, a quick kiss to the bridge of Emma’s nose. “Ask your last question.”

“Why didn’t we remember who we were?”

“All magic comes with a price,” David answers. “And we didn’t really pay it, did we?” Emma groans. “Are you fucking kidding me?” “Regina thinks it makes sense. We didn’t give into the rules of the curse or whatever, found a loophole and then magic was like--” “--Fuck you guys for doing that?” “You’re going to have to watch that mouth once we get back to court.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Emma mumbles, another huff of overly dramatic breathing. “Do you think there are still non-magic folk who didn’t get pulled with the curse? Killian said--” She grits her teeth, both Mary Margaret and David tensing at the name and the ease with which she says it. “He said that he’d been trying to get here for years. Both he and Rumplestilskin knew where we were, but I can’t imagine there would be many people in town who’d just have that kind of innate knowledge of other realms.” David practically beams. “A smart and concerned monarch.” “I’m going to curse you.” “We tried that already, didn’t take.” “Oh my God,” Mary Margaret mumbles, and it will be interesting to see how they fit back into their old lives, this mix of past and present and Emma’s going to bring leggings with her. Fuck court rules. 

Maybe they can just burn down the wing of the castle George was in. 

“Serious answer?” David asks, Emma making a ridiculous noise at the ridiculous question. There are more footsteps coming towards them. “I have no idea,” he admits. “It seems likely and, uh, that’s kind of why we want to get out of here as quickly as possible.” “Yuh huh.” “We don’t want to push though,” Mary Margaret adds quickly, sounding suspiciously like they rehearsed this part. 

Emma hums. “I know you don’t. But I think--I think you might be right anyway. If Regina can get Isaac to not be a dick, then I think we’ll be able to do it right?” “In theory,” David answers. “That’s not helpful.” “That’s what I’ve got right now.” “Fair,” Emma mumbles, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers and the footsteps sound like they’re rocking back and forth now. Something about waves. Or...whatever. Emma’s too tired to come up with more metaphors. “If that’s anyone I don’t like I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions.” “Ah, that depends on the semantics of like I guess,” Will calls. Emma nearly falls over. 

He grins when she spins, hand stuffed in his pockets and weight resting on his heels. “You got a second or you going to teleport back to your mythical kingdom, like, right now?” “I think I can hold off for a couple minutes.” “Ok, cool.” He doesn’t actually move though, and it takes a few moments for David and Mary Margaret to realize they’ve been effectively dismissed. “Oh,” Mary Margaret gaps, jerking her arm back to reach for David’s hand. “Right, right, we’ll, um...we were going to get some food at Granny’s later. If you want to--” Emma before she can keep rambling. “Thanks, M’s.” “Ok. C’mon, David, I bet Regina’s got more books we can stare at.” David clicks his tongue, gaze darting between Emma and Will and back to Emma again. She smiles. “Go ahead, your highness, I’m perfectly safe.”

“Yeah, if anything she’ll just totally fuck me up with her magic, so…” Will shrugs, head tilted and expression teasing. Emma laughs. 

That’s weird. 

“Ok,” David agrees. “If you’re not at Granny’s by seven, I’m going to send out something drastic I will think of eventually.” “You’re the most eloquent person I’ve ever met.” He kisses her hair. That’s less weird. 

And it’s only a few moments before Mary Margaret and David disappear down the corner, Will taking slow steps towards the dock like he’s a little nervous it’s going to fall apart if he puts too much weight on the soles of his shoes. 

“I’m not going to let you drown if that’s what you’re worried about,” Emma says, working an actual guffaw out of him. She’s claiming that as another victory. 

“I’m not, really.” “Then…” “I’m kind of--I don’t know, if I tell you that I’m totally freaking out and having a very hard time believing any of this is real is that going to do irreparable damage to my rep?” “Only if you keep using the word rep in actual conversation.” He chuckles, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck. There’s something else in his pocket. Emma nods towards the end of the dock. “C’mon, sit, I don’t know how much longer how much I can stay upright.” “That’s not really sparking my confidence. Princess? God, do I call you princess?” “Please don’t.” Will groans, but he does sit down and that seems like a good start. “It’s so weird,” he mumbles. “The whole thing. I mean--I was almost cool with you having magic and Ruby being able to turn into a wolf and even the fucked up shit that happened at my bar.” “Was that expensive? I could, like, magic you money or something.” “Is that illegal?” “Is that your only caveat?” Emma asks, fingers already twisting and she wonders if she can fabricate a check out of mid-air. That’d be impressive. “Because, honestly, we’ve got like the whole treasury of Misthaven to work with here and I’m not entirely sure what the conversion rate is, but I bet we could just decide on that ourselves and--” “--Emma,” Will interrupts sharply. “That’s not why I’m here. Not really.” “No?” “No. Although maybe eventually we’ll circle back to the royal treasury.”

Her laugh wobbles out of her. “Deal,” Emma says. “Ok, so if you weren’t here to talk magical economics, what is it?” “I went through some of Killian’s stuff.” Emma knocks one of her sandals in the ocean. “Ah, goddamnit!” She waves her hand, far more force than is actually necessary because it only results in a wave cresting over both her and Will’s dangling feet and the water is freezing cold. “Oh my God,” she yelps. “Fuck the entire state of Maine, honestly!”

He throws his whole head back when he laughs. “Shit, you are the worst princess I have ever seen.” “Yeah, you are the not the first person who’s told me that, actually,” Emma mumbles. Her sandal lands next to her. 

“Sorry for springing that on you,” Will adds. “That’s--I practiced like sixteen different ways to tell you that I did this on the way over here and even asked Belle for advice, but--” “--That’s actually really nice.” “Yeah, well, this whole thing is a festering piece of garbage, so I figured you could use a little bit of nice. He’s really...he’s really dead then?”

The words don’t quite cut through Emma, but they might stab at her and that is even worse. Her nod feels forced. “Yeah,” she says, short and succinct. It doesn’t help. “That was the only way to do it. To make sure the darkness didn’t stay or linger. If--if we hadn’t done that then it would have consumed him eventually. Taken over all the realms.” “That sounds less than ideal.” “It’s not great, no.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not your fault. None of it is really anybody’s fault. If anything, it’s...well, it’s me. I mean, we walked right into it. When we were--” “--In your fairy tale.” “It wasn’t a fairy tale,” Emma corrects lightly, and her fingers keep drifting up towards the collar of her shirt. There’s still nothing there. “It was our life and I was…oh, damn.” She lets out a shaky breath, tears stinging her eyes and she really thought she’d finished this. Her throat feels very tight. “There were moments here, though. Sometimes he’d say something or he’d look a certain way and I...I knew. It was exactly the same.” “You know, I’ve known him for years,” Will says, and Emma doesn’t miss that he keeps using present tense. “He hated that I never washed the dishes the same night I used them.” “Well, that’s gross, that’s why.” “I’m trying to set up an anecdote here.” “Right, right,” Emma mutters. “Don’t let me stop you.” “He folded everything perfectly, it was ridiculous. But he was kind of a dick too. In a nice way, you know. Like I knew he would have beat down for Belle in a second. He loved her. Not like--not like you, I mean--” “--I get what you’re saying, Scarlet.” Will nods, shifting so whatever is still stuck in his pocket doesn’t stab the side of his leg. “I’ve known him forever and I’ve never seen anything like that,” he says, voice dropping low with the weight of his emotion. “The way he was around you. It was like...watching the moon or something. Ah, that’s a shit way of explaining it.” “I’ll take the sentiment of it.” “Generous of you.” He runs a hand over his face, exhale loud even over the waves and the water and whatever birds are still in the sky. “It was like something switched for him. Like someone turned him back on or got him to full power. It was like a fairy tale.”

Emma whimpers again. God, that’s so lame. “Yeah,” she agrees softly. “I guess it might have been, actually.”

“I know I’m kind of on the outside looking in here and you guys have to go back where you came from, but I just...I thought I’d throw my two cents in for whatever it’s worth.” “At least a quarter.” “See,” Will crows. “You’re funny. No wonder he loved you.”

Emma brushes away tears and her smile doesn't settle perfectly on her face. It’s there though. And she gives herself this – this moment and the relative silence, a bit of normal and hint of easy, nothing more than the smell of saltwater to keep her grounded. 

It doesn’t last as long as she hopes. 

She’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“I’ve never seen him like that,” Will murmurs, twisting again and the scratch of the box on his jeans is far too loud. “So, I know I’m making assumptions, but--” He flips the top of the box open with his thumb, and Emma refuses to be held accountable for that noise either. It’s a ring. Not her ring, but maybe the ring and--

“Oh fucking hell,” Emma breathes, Will chuckling lightly when he bumps his shoulder against hers.

“Were you not expecting that wherever you’re from?”

She shakes her head slowly, not a disagreement, but not entirely an agreement either, because--”He said he wanted to be the one to ask. That, um...well, the pirate was real, you know?” Will widens his eyes, a sarcastic hum low in his throat. Emma presses her fingers into her cheek, scratching at skin and brushing away even more tears. “He did that for me. Or because of me. And I---it was never a normal kingdom, but there were still traditions, courting and balls and--” Her eyes fall shut, a breath of feeling and could have been. “He would have looked incredibly dashing at an engagement ball.” Will’s laugh isn’t sarcastic. It’s pure and loud and it warms Emma from the inside out when she reaches for the ring, shaky fingers and cool metal and the light reflects off the stone there. 

And it happens suddenly, but these things always seem to, a flash on the edge of her vision and a surge of power that races up her spine and latches on the back of her brain, a push and a want and she can’t seem to catch her breath. 

Her whole being soars with the rush of it, magic and emotion and most of it is just love because she knows, she’s always known and--

“He had it before then,” Emma whispers, Will’s quiet noise of confusion hardly making it to her ears. She grins. “He had it before. Before the ship and before we--it all happened after that. There was no time after, not...you don’t buy a ring for the person who cursed you, right?” “Probably not,” Will nods, and Emma knows he’s only agreeing because she’s kind of freaking him out. The muscles in her face ache. 

She ducks down, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

“I’m going to act like I know what you’re talking about.” “That’s probably for the best.”

She twists her wrist, leaving her sandals and a stunned Will Scarlet in her wake, a cloud of magic and another bust of heat and Emma’s feet land with practiced ease in the middle of her bedroom. She glances around, certain she’ll find it immediately and it’s not quite that perfect, but it’s pretty damn close. 

Her eyes fall on her bed, a slightly lopsided pillow that wasn’t that way when she crawled out from under the blankets that morning. 

It’s still on the chain. 

Emma doesn’t stumble. She walks, slow and certain and magical, flush with all of it and maybe True Love itself, fingers curling around the ring that has suddenly appeared on her slightly disgusting pillows. It’s heavier than she remembers, lowering her head to let the chain drape over her neck, but the weight only lasts a moment before it seems to settle, like it’s fitting back where it belongs and that’s more sentimental than anything else. 

Emma presses her palm against it, pushing it back against her chest. And, she’s never really sure what happens next, can never explain the tug of the magic or the feel in the very center of her, as if something is just a bit off kilter and she tilts her head at the feel of it, a bit of déjà vu and desperation and she doesn’t use magic that time. 

She runs. 

Barefoot. 

Across the entire goddamn town to a makeshift graveyard and a stone with nothing underneath it, pulse racing and hope flying, as if that’s something that hope is capable of doing and--

“Damn,” Emma breathes, mostly because she is out of breath. And disappointed. At the mess of nothing in front of her. 

There’s a stick in between her toes. 

“What the fuck,” she grumbles, twisting her head and glancing around and still nothing. That’s not right. She’d felt it. Something. Everything. Him. It had to be, the ring and the magic and--”Idiot,” Emma sighs, leaning forward to rest her hand on the stone in front of her. 

Someone’s magic’ed his name there. 

As if that makes it better. 

“That’s really not fair,” Emma grumbles, and she’s back to talking to herself. Cyclical, or whatever. 

She lets her head drop, hair falling over her shoulders and every breath is a very specific type of challenge. Her other hand tugs on her ring. “I miss you,” she whispers to nothing and no one. “I thought--ah, it doesn’t matter, I guess. I just--” Emma doesn’t finish. The light that radiates around her makes sure of that, another burst that she’s certain rattles the entire planet or, at least, her knees, the joints knocking together and nails digging into her palm. 

Her mouth goes dry. 

And she doesn’t dare look. 

Until. 

“Swan?”

[korebringerofded]

Bucky X Reader- Who’s Bucky?

Summary- You, Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff are sent on a crucial mission, find and eliminate the Winter Soldier. What neither of you know is the mysterious killer is your lost love, Bucky Barnes.

Warnings- Violence, crying, blood, near character death. Just lots of violence honestly.

Words-1378

A/N- I hope you enjoy! I haven’t written in so long and I’m excited to be getting back into it! Requests are 100% open! I am into pretty much everything so if you want something other than avengers stuff I can probably do it! I will also probably do a second part to this.

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Your brain rattled against your skull, choked gasps escaping your lips as you struggle to breath, the taste of blood lingering on your pink tongue.As much as you hated to admit it, the three of you were definitely in over your heads. Outnumbered 3 to 30 against the hydra soldiers. Normally 30 hydra soldiers were nothing to the three of you, but with the addition of the metal armed super soldier the odds were definitely not in your favor.

“We need to stay close together.” Natasha muttered, blood running down her pale face. Steve nods, his blue eyes staring into yours as he gasps for, the three of you were kneeling behind a turned over car. You honestly couldn’t think straight, no matter how many soldiers you took out more appeared just as quickly as they were taken out.

“Got it.” You nod, taking in a deep breath before stretching out your fingers, purple lights danced over your palms and wrists gently before spreading over your entire body. You notice Steve’s eyes following your every movement, you smile a little at this thought before hauling yourself over the car, your feet never hitting the ground as your feet drag just above the cement beneath you. You feel bullets whiz towards you but just as fast as they came they bounce off the purple lights surrounding you. You giggle at this. Most weaponry had little effect when faced against your abilities

You raise your arms above your head, the light purple darkening with each movement, several large vehicles raise with your palms, glowing the same purple as yourself. In a swift movement you outstretch your arms towards a line of oncoming soldiers, seeing them made your blood boil. Thinking about what they had done to him. Thinking of the pain they caused you. It was enough to drive you insane. The vehicles fly forward, crushing the long line of men and causing an unnerving silence to fall over the street. You stare for a moment, blood flowing onto the cement, the tires of the vehicles you threw were coated in skin and crimson liquid.

You knew it wasn’t over, in just seconds more soldiers would arrive. You sigh, relaxing your body and you softly fall to the ground, your palms no longer glowing. You stare at the scene in front of you and you find yourself struggling to breath. These men took everything from you. They kill without any mercy.

“Hey.” A deep voice growls, you spin on your heels and stare at the tall man, his metal arm clunking loudly as he drops his large gun to the ground. You are frozen, you know your limits, this man was definitely out of your abilities. Facing him hand to hand would not end well. You glance around, no sign of Natasha or Steve. You had no choice but to face him alone. You swallow hard, clenching your fist, you see a soft pink glow wrap around your arm. The man's eyes are glued onto you, animalistic grunts leaving him as he watches you closely.

“What's wrong?” You call out. “Never dealt with someone like me before?” You stare at him, his eyes felt somehow familiar the more you look into them.

“Do I-” You start but are quickly interrupted by a deep voice.

“You can give up now.” Steve is now standing behind you, his eyes glued on this ‘winter solider’ as he uses his ‘captain-voice’. “No one else has to get hurt.” He continues.

“We have company.” Natasha mumbles, and several large black vans unload a countless amount of other hydra operatives. We were once again drastically outnumbered.  

The man is silent for a moment, his eyes still glued on you before you hear another small growl from him, it makes your stomach turn as he charges towards you. You’re frozen at first, his large frame tensed and shook, he was so full of rage. You shake your head and race towards him , leaping off the ground, your palms and feet glowing pink, your foot collides with his jaw, sending him back for a moment before he grips your ankle and swings your entire body into the concrete with ease. Your vision is blurry, your back laying flat on the hot concrete. Blood flows from your head, matting up in your hair and over your face.

“(Y/N)!” You hear Steve’s voice distantly as the large man with the metal arm sits on your stomach, holding you down. You glance over at Steve lazily; his eyes wide with fear, he snaps the neck of the man he is currently fighting with but is met with a fist to the face by another. You  look up at the Winter Soldier, he wraps his metal fingers around your throat and slowly starts to squeeze, you fight against his hands, pushing him away and screaming as much as you can, it comes out in quiet sobs, you punch at the mans face despretaly, clawing at his skin, in the process you tear his mask off his face and onto your chest and at that moment your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. You're sure you’ve died. The man releases your throat for a moment to collide his fist with Natasha’s face, she falls to the ground, tears streaming down her face as she scrambles to stand up.

“Bucky?” You mumble, pressing your palm to his face. He stares at you and for a moment his glare softens into confusion, when he speaks his voice is quiet- almost childlike.

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

“Hey there doll.” His voice is smooth as he twirls your hair between his fingers, his ocean eyes are soft and loving.

“Hey there, soldier.” You mock, giggling lightly before kissing his cheek quickly. He rolls his eyes at this but laughs.

“You better stop kissing me so much otherwise I won’t wanna leave for this mission.” He sighs, sitting up quietly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go then.” You stare into his eyes. You had known how important this mission was, but something about it made your stomach go sour. You weren’t allowed to go with him and Steve because of how dangerous it would be and yet that only made you want to go more.

‘Doll. I’ll be back before you know it okay?” He holds your face in his hands and kisses you softly.

“Promise?” You mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck

“I promise.”

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

“Who’s Bucky?” He mumbles as he stands up, glancing up at Steve who is standing a few feet away, his eyes wide as he stares at the man. Before anyone else can say anything the large man rushes off, disappearing without a trace.

You stare at the sky, unable to move. “Bucky..” You mumble, your whole body is trembling.

“We need a medic NOW!” Nat yells into her com, racing to your side as she examines your neck. “Buck-” You mumble before blackness engulfs you and your mind goes blank.

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

Everything that happens next is a complete blur, but you awake in a brightly lit room, the smell of saline filling your nose as you stir awake, your eyes bloodshot. You open your mouth to speak but it comes out in soft gasps.

“Buc-” You start but are quickly hushed. You blink slowly, adjusting to the lighting. Steve and Natasha let out a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“It’s okay. Your vocal cords are damaged, don’t try to talk.” Natasha smiles, you notice there are deep bags under her eyes.

You glance at Steve, he looks even worse than Nat, his cheeks tear stained and his face sunken in drastically. The two have you were sure you had lost Bucky so long ago but there he was, inches away from your face. You had frozen up, and it had gotten you severely hurt. Bucky had always been yours and Steve’s biggest weakness.

You stare at Steve for a while, waiting for him to say anything. You sigh and look at Natasha desperately, she smiles and hands you a whiteboard and marker. You silently thank her before writing on the board sloppily, your head still spinning. The squeaking of the marker echoing in the room before you turn the board to face them. “Where is Bucky?”

[theoriginalsfan124]

The Day Will Come When You Won’t Be

Chapter One

Four and half of moths have passed since the day the world, which we all knew, went to shit. Corpses started walking and literally eating people. As you all can guess there are little to no survivors left. I don’t know the exact number, I don’t know if there’s anyone besides two people left to roam this earth. Why am I sure there’s two people? The answers simple - it’s me and the guy sitting next to me in the car.

You could say we were on this ride from the start, although that’s not exactly the truth. We met only after the world ended. To be honest I don’t even know his full name or his age(though we should be close in age). You’re probably thinking - why the hell are you with a guy you barely know. It’s because he saved me right when I was left alone amongst the crumbles.

I remember clearly how I ran, that it seemed like I was flying, but that wasn’t enough. Walkers were hot on my tail. I ran into an alley, looked around where I could run in, close myself in and hide, hide from those things that were once people. However, nothing seemed safe enough. My legs carried me further down the street as I silently prayed to stay alive, but the hope I had was lessening by the second. The adrenaline pumped though my veins, however, it was getting harder and harder to breath, sharp pain appeared in my side, my body screamed for me to stop, but I couldn’t. Stopping meant death and never in my life have I wanted to live more. Slowly, I could feel my steps getting slower. Hot tears were streaming down my face. I knew I was done for. This was the end. This was how I’ll die - alone, scared and ripped apart by corpses.

-In here!- an unknown voice yelled.

As I ran I looked around - nothing. “Am I going insane now too?” I thought.

-I’m on the buildings rooftop, dumbass!

I looked up( dangerous I know, but I had nothing to loose) . In the distance, on a not so tall building, I could make out a figure of a man, who waved his hands in the air.

Run towards me, after you reach the building I’m on take a turn to the right. You’ll run into a dead end, but don’t worry, on your left there’s going to be a ladder leading towards the roof, which I’m on. Climb that and for the love of God, don’t look back! - The stranger yelled.

I was hesitant. Will I trust a complete stranger?

-Goddamit! Are you seriously hesitating?! - His now angry voice yelled.

Death was breathing down my neck, I had no choice. I did what he said. I made my way to the building, which he stood on, I turners right and climbed the emergency ladder to the roof with no hesitation. I thanked God the walkers were dumb enough and didn’t know anything a human would, but overall they were dangerous creatures with no thoughts or feelings whatsoever.

After I climbed up I dropped my backpack and then plopped myself on it, finally letting myself breath.

-Nice going there, dumbass? Did you want to attract all the cities walkers or something? - the mean voice of the stranger, who was now blocking the sun, spoke.

-They were chasing me, I had nowhere to go, - my voice was filled with the same amount of anger as his.

Whatever bullshit you did there has the streets swarming with walkers, - he furrowed his eyebrows and turned to scan over the surroundings.

I looked him up and down several times. I got to admit, he was good-looking, screw that, he was a that man was handsome as hell. He was tall, well-built, muscular, the stranger had short blond hair and ocean blue eyes that shone in the sunlight. Amanda or Margarit would have called him a full- course meal or snack already. Margaret or Amanda...God, did I miss them...

-Well fuck, - he cursed under his breath. - We’ll have to wait in the building until they scatter around.

He went to the door close by and opened it.

-You’re going with me or not? I don’t care either way, - he said and took the backpack laying next to the door in his hands before he put it on his shoulders and went though the door.

I shook my head and stood up to follow me.

-Are you alone? - I asked.

The blond male didn’t say anything, only nodded his head.

-I’m Caroline, - I stopped in the middle of the stairs and extended my arm to him.

-Noel, - he took it and slightly shook it.

He didn’t necessarily like the idea of me tagging along and he made that clear the first couple of days, but I’m very stubborn and after a week he just gave up. And here we are now, almost four moths on the road, and only hell knows where we are going.

I looked at him with the corner of my eye. Noel was focused as he looked at the road, one of his arms elbow rested against the car window, his other arm gripping the wheel. Out of both of us, he drove the best, maybe that’s why he was almost always the one behind the wheel. We drove our minivan in shifts, although my shifts were pretty short, and almost always interrupted by Noel getting fed up with my “driving skills”( out of habit I still followed all the laws except I did speed a lot), so he would usher me out the drivers seat and take the wheel instead, his excuse was mostly that we needed to save gas, because I was spreading to much or that “Goddamit, Caroline, it’s the end of the bloody world! Why are you stopping at the Stop sign?!”. I tried not to tell him to shove it, because even though we were somewhat friends, almost everything in the car, including the car itself, Noel had before me, so he could kick my ass out any second. He never did even if I did call him a chicken nugget, to which he would respond with “WOW! I’m so insulted.”.

On nights we would stop somewhere more deserted, turn off the engine and while one was sleeping, the other would stay up to keep a look out for walker. If a walker got close, we would start the car and drive elsewhere, or what Noel mostly done, got out of the van to kill it with a knife to make as less noise as possible, because the mostly only reacted to sound. A lot of sound meant a lot of walkers. This was we got rest and some sleep without letting our guard down.

I reached my hand out to press the button, which would turn on a song, which played at the stereo in the car.

-I swear to God, if I hear despacito one more time, I’ll throw this stereo out the window and leave your ass on the side of the road, - Noel threatened, forcing me to stop my movements.

-But it’s the only disk we have, a that’s the only song on it! - I reasoned.

-I don’t care, - he answered.

I sighed. I know I can’t win the argument, but I’m not me if I still didn’t try.

I wouldn’t need to repeat this song constantly, if you just talked to me,- I argued.

I saw him roll his eyes. I knew he wasn’t the biggest fan of talking, barely spearing a good morning or goodnight thought-out the whole day sometimes.

Can’t we just stay in silence?- He asked clearly annoyed.

-That’s the only thing we do - stay quiet! - I whined and threw my hands in the air.

-No one told you to come with me you know.

I frowned. He’s at it again - throwing the “no body told you to come with me” excuse again. He does this every time I do something he does this on occasion too.

-My god are you an ass...- I muttered under my breath as I folded my arms.

-Say the girl, who owns duck printed underwear.

-How did you even?! - I got flustered that I almost jumped out of my seat.

-Careful there, captain duckling. Also, pro tip, don’t leave your underwear on the top of your bag.

I can’t believe you... you-you- you fudge ball!

-That’s a new one. Besides, you’re the one that asked me to find your sweater, while you were driving.

Noel turned to face me and smiled. He rarely smiled, usually he was focused and serious, so his smile made me smile.

-Well, at least I’m not boring...- I shrugged.

He shook his head and turned back to the road and continued driving silently.

-We’ll stop at the nearest town. We need supplies, more clean water and some gas, - he spoke after a while.

I’ll come clean, this part I hated as much as I loved it. From one hand, we’ll finally stretch out legs out, take a walk, breath in some fresh air, but on the other hand, we’ll risk more than driving. Without even feeling it, I put my hand on my necklace. It was a dog tag, given to me right on the edge of my life falling apart, in other words, the world falling apart, by someone important to me.

-I hope nothing happens...-I spoke softly.

-Let’s hope for the best.

After a couple of minutes Noel took a turn to the left, towards a small town. More time passed and the van stopped next to a small shop and he opened the car door, and left the van. I took a deep breath and followed him out. I was silently praying all that time that nothing bad would happen to us, but life was never so simple....

[vinku-iikku]

Yay I finally finished 2018 inktober! If you want to just scroll through them all please go here, and if you want to see some comments on each please look under the cut.

Day 01 Flowey and Overgrown Ruins This prompt I picked as is because as far as I remember Flowey stayed behind when the monsters left. If you can’t find him, he’s near the big root on the left. All other days the second prompt got randomised by a die (except when I reached the last two).

Day 02 Grillby and Exotic Flora Grillby’s on a journey to look at all the flowers that aren’t living in a wet environment. Maybe he’ll make some wine from the non-poisonous ones.

Day 03 Chara and Cave Entrance They are still curious about morbid things and places that could be portentially dangerous, practically running at danger.

Day 04 Undyne and Astral Plains/Dreamland Welp I’d rather have had her with some other prompt, but now she has an anime showdown/faceoff with a mean monster that harasses a moldsmal.

Day 05 Asgore and Rocky Ruins Asgore had a trip down memory lane and visited the place where their castle used to be, before the war. Not much is left any more.

Day 06 Frisk and Ancient Tree They are still precariously looking for adventure. I saw this article about a 800 year-old Finnish tree, as soon as I saw that top I wanted to climb that, looks like a perfect spot to see everything around you and chill for a bit.

Day 07 Temmie and Nature Untouched I did some research in a nearby forest for this one, the sales-Temmie has made a nest in a tree that has fallen down in a storm. The soil is shallow before solid rock so trees have their roots mostly close to the surface, when they fall the roots go up as well. Temmie on the left is sitting on an ant nest lol. There are seven Temmies in total.

Day 08 Muffet and Crystal Coves Crystal Coves is either a place where crystal business is the main employer, a cove that has crystals, or a cove with crystal clear water, I think. I tried to implement them all just to make sure. Muffet has now made a business in making spider-products with glass expertise.

Day 09 Fuku Fire and Freezing Fjord Finally back to the ‘monsters travelling’ theme, Fuku is taking a longer trip and is currently on a boat by Norway.

Day 10 Gaster Blasters and Townsquare The blasters are on their own for whatever convenient reason, Pap’s one is figuring how things work by destroying them, Sans’ is... playing with local children. :D The fountain is loosely based on Havis Amanda.

Day 11 Nice Cream Guy & Shanty Town He’s travelling the world and selling nice cream! Definitely inspired by Beadle in BotW.

Day 12 Mettaton EX & Cemetery This combination took me a moment, Mettaton is a bit loud and showy for a cemetery. Then I remembered that Napstablook said they’re already dead when you try to kill them, so here Mettaton’s visiting haunted places and telling everyone about this wonderful body he got and where to get one if you’re interested in becoming physical again. I worked in a cemetery for one summer years ago, felt weird pulling those visual memories to this...

Day 13 Toriel & Hall of Deities In order to become a teacher I’d imagine she’d have to brush up her knowledge on lots of things that’ve happened on the surface, and here she’s in a secret underground place with some sacred scriptures or something, she reads them and writes down notes and then returns the scrolls.

Day 14 Annoying Dog & Volcanic Terrain Another weird combination, but eh, it’s the dog. It’s feeding bones to the vulkins and admiring danger up close.

Day 15 Monster Kid & Path Along the Water I made a huge area with different textures so I could try learn something new by scribbling around, and I’m really happy how the boulders on top of the waterfall and the water itself look like.

Day 16 Doggo & Ancient Altar Room Took a moment to come up with an idea, then I read Doggo likes squirrels. So now he’s travelling the world too, and he always has time and seeds for any squirrel population he discovers.

Day 17 Alphys & Summoning Altar I thought I’d not be drawing Mew Mew, but here was a perfect opportunity for that! Alphys isn’t travelling, but discovering new things in her home, humans have such interesting books! All of the Japanese text mean something; the bowl has the kanji for ’love’, books under it are Mew Mew manga, there’s two yury books, a reference to Free!, Digimon, Pokémon, Rose of Versailles, Natsume Book of Friends... and it’s fine if you don’t get the one that says ‘corn’.

Day 18 Photoshop Flowey & Windmills and Grasslands I think the modern wind generators look super cool. I tried to make Flowey as cute as possible so he’d be more fun to draw there, this is some dream stuff or alternate universe since Flowey did stay behind.

Day 19 Papyrus & Desserted Drylands I’m pretty sure that’s an accidental typo, but since it was Papyrus I wanted to roll with the new pun meaning. First thought was Papyrus somehow being in the drylands and dropping a huge cake, thus ’desserting’ it, but that would’ve been a bit mean. This cake is made with 100% organic sand (some of which he ground himself when grooming Rocky), the tiny cow ornaments are modified mouse skeletons. :) The chef hat would be straight but there wasn’t enough room on the page of the notebook I draw these on... I remembered he had a triangle on the battle armor, but didn’t remember what way it points so avoided it by replacing it with a heart. :D

Day 20 Sans & By the Beach Sans is getting some more sand for Papyrus with his shortcut, then he took a nap unfortunately close to the tide..? The shore felt a bit bare so I added some animals to keep him company. I h/c that animals don’t mind having monsters around unlike how they usually try to run away when a human is near.

Day 21 Shyren & Buried Statue(s) She’s doing that Disney princess thing where you sit down and start singing and all small animals within hearing range come to listen.

Day 22 Asriel & Underwater Temple Another dream thing since Flowey stayed behind, this is how he imagines the oceans look like outside.

Day 23 Lesser Dog & Market Place Some people have to learn the hard way to not trust a dog that has opposable thumbs.

Day 24 Box Mettaton & Merchant’s Store Any website run by a popular monster must get an insane amount of curious folk, which leads to ad revenue being a good way to fund the next tour. There’s some.. insider jokes there if you’re in any kind of website business.

Day 25 Rocky the pet rock & Eldritch Forest I don’t actually know what the latter means, looking at Google images it’s probably just a forest that’s very dark or something. Wanted to try a different perspective for a change. Rocky has a bowl of food there but I can’t really think of any non-sad reason for why it’s in this forest.

Day 26 Froggit & Inn in th Middle of Nowhere Had to take a break for one day, regardless I’m proud of myself on being consistent this far despite everything going on. I first only had the top Froggit and the bg in the sketch, and didn’t like how it looked. Somehow adding more Froggits made it look a lot better to me...

Day 27 Burgerpants & By the Docs Birsd with human arms and birds sitting like humans will never not be hilarious to me.

Day 28 Bratty and Catty & Deep in the Woods Tried to play with perspective with this one, it’s kind of the opposite of the Rocky drawing.

Day 29 God of Hyperdeath & Idle Portal I had a hard time coming up with anything for this, so now poor goat is somewhere in a completely white dimention and the only way out is not active, though he’s quite chill about it.

Day 30 Amalgamate & Abnormal Formations This and last one’s world I didn’t leave for the die to decide, I really wanted to do Tetris with Napstablook and out of the two still left this prompt suits Endogeny more anyway. There’s a forest in Poland where several of the trees bend to north like this.

Day 31 Napstablook & Puzzling Platforms Only one I did during morning, my hands shake more then so all the lines are more or less wobbly. Every Tetris piece has it’s own signature design except the L-shape which is just blank to keep it interesting. Napstablook is enjoying game music while inside the game, maybe ghosts can possess videogames..? This also shows the notebook I drew all of these in and the tools I used most of the time.

It’s hard to tell if I’ve improved at all when comparing these to 2017 inktober, I haven’t draw regularly through the year and the main focus point this time was on backgrounds and not so much on lines and characters. I did learn new things and that’s always exiting, I think my trees, glass and rocks look way better than before I started, and I did some progress in shading metal too. All of these took 3 hours or less to finish, some only took an hour. I didn’t need to erase pencils like last year because I used a trick where I placed the sketch under the notebook page and my tablet with 100% brightness and a white bg under them, and traced that with ink. The notebook paper is pretty thin, you can see the Amalgamate drawing’s clouds showing through in the Napstablook photo. Anyway, this was fun, and I think I’ll try do it next year too!

[alluringholland]

the good die young, but so did this #4 | t.h.

WARNINGS: angst, smut, alcoholism, drug abuse, manipulation, an all around bad time

part 4: now or never (previous)

“Wishing you were round with me/But you in a different town than me”

Present day.

“When do you think it started to go downhill?” Paula inquired.

Another week, another hour. Tom hadn't even gotten to the deep shit in his brain yet. A majority of these sessions were just about the dead relationship. When would he talk about his childhood, or the stressors of his career? When would he talk about the drugs and alcohol? He knew Paula would want to hear about that, but Tom could not stop talking about his ex. There were plenty of things to talk about, but his ex was the biggest thing in his mind. As always.

He was lying across the couch as opposed to sitting today. Thinking about her gave him a headache. Talking about her was much less painful than having to actually see her again, though.

“I invited her to go to London with me,” he recalled. “I wanted her to meet my parents. The only problem was that until I invited her, we hadn't spoken for about a month.”

“And why is that?”

Tom shrugged. “I think we were just insanely busy. We promised to talk at least once a day, and one day she didn't text me back…” It clicked. “Oh.”

~

5 years ago.

“Alright then,” he mumbled as he threw his phone to the side, unable to look at the read receipt any longer. He rolled over onto his back, feeling completely restless despite sleeping less than four hours. And that wasn't because he had been texting her all night. She hadn't texted him at all.

Perhaps she was just busy with… modeling things. Or maybe she had already gone to sleep. But she always sent a goodnight text if that were the case. What the hell?

Tom tried not to worry. There were always huge gaps between text messages. They were oceans away from each other and they were both doing different things, of course there wouldn't be time to text. He just had to pet his dog and keep himself from blowing up her phone.

He went about his day. Signed a massive amount of posters. Took Tessa out for a walk. Stalked his girlfriend's Instagram page. He never actually spoke to her, though. He found out why when he saw her Instagram story update when he refreshed the page.

“Mate, did you see Nessa’s Snapchat?” asked Harrison, who was also scrolling on his phone.

Things began and ended quickly with those two, so Tom was a little surprised to hear him speak of her. But that's not what made his stomach turn. He viewed the Instagram story he was on and saw his own girlfriend in what looked to be a club.

She was posing with Nessa, both of them holding shot glasses. The next snap was a video of the pair of them downing the shots. The one after that was the two of them dancing provocatively to the music.

“Having fun without me…” he mumbled before sending a text.

“I know, it sucks,” Harrison agreed, oblivious to his friend's annoyance. “That's why I ended things with Nessa. Can't always keep an eye on her. Can't always be with her.”

“You can keep an eye on them as long as they stay online,” Tom said back, staring at his phone with intense focus.

“Call me as soon as you're not hammered.” Send.

It was like, what? Five in the morning in Los Angeles? Surely she must have been home by now…  if her stupid friend didn't talk her into doing other reckless things. Or if she hasn't been picked up by some other guy. Oh god, what if another guy took her away?

“Or call me when you get home. Just call me,” he added. Hopefully the punctuation showed how serious this was.

“It's like she doesn't even care,” Tom said with a small scoff.

Harrison chuckled in disbelief. “You're serious, mate? What have we been doing since we got back?”

Tom rolled his eyes. Why was he so upset over this? “At least I have the decency to tell her when I'm home.”

“No, I had the decency. You passed out in the cab, while you were texting her.”

Tom stayed quiet and waited for the inevitable phone call.

~

It was a Skype call, and it was at two in the morning, London time. Tom didn't care, he was just glad to hear from her after spending the day trying not to worry. He didn't worry, he was only very pissed off.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked when he finally had her on his laptop screen. She was taken aback, it showed on her face. “I've been busy all day. Sorry I didn't answer your texts.”

“That's it? You wanna tell me where you were last night and why you couldn't tell me about any of it?” he demanded.

“I went out, me and Nessa went to some bars-”

“A night club,” Tom corrected. “I saw Instagram and Snapchat, you don't have to lie.”

Clearly, that struck a nerve. “I'm not lying! I went out and had fun! And I passed out as soon as I got home. When I woke up, I had a really long, uh, meeting with Nancy and Charlotte, and I just got back, and I have a shoot to do at seven. Believe it or not, I can have fun without you! I can still have a life without you!”

“I just don't want you to be with anybody else!” he told her, wanting to yank his own hair out.

They just looked at each other through the screen. Was this their first fight?

“We knew this wouldn't be easy,” she said. “We never have time off at the same time anymore. We barely have time to talk. We live on separate parts of the world.”

“But we can do it,” Tom said. “Why else would I want you to call me if I thought we couldn't do it?”

Her silence was not reassuring.

“I could go over there,” Tom offered. “I could stay over there.”

“And leave your family behind?”

“They'll understand. I've been wanting to move to LA, anyway.”

He was thinking on the spot, but when he said it out loud, it felt right. He just wasn't reassured by the frown on the screen. Was she not going to be on board with this? Was it too soon? What was she thinking?

“Say something,” he pleaded.

She shrugged. “I don't wanna make you do anything.”

“Don't you think it would be good for us, though?”

“I mean, probably, but like I said, your family is over there and you'll be over here. Most of my relatives are on the east coast and I'm not sure how I've coped with it over time.”

This would have been a good time to hold her hand and stroke her hair, but she was thousands of miles away. “We can cope together.”

She didn't seemed comforted by those words. She wasn't even looking at him. “I don't know, just do whatever you want. Don't let me influence you.”

It was like talking to a wall.

“I… I guess I'll stay here then,” Tom said, disgruntled.

A month later, he asked her to come visit him in London. He wanted her to meet his family, so she could see what they're like. So she could see that they understood and fully supported Tom's decisions.

Even after hardly speaking after that Skype call, she agreed to make the trip. At the time, it was reassuring. It was just what Tom needed for him to continue pursuing her.

~

The couple had spent practically the entire day with the family. Tom's parents loved her, she got along with his brothers, Tessa warmed up to her immediately. The day was perfect.

Now they were back at Tom's apartment, getting ready for bed. Tom went into the bathroom, where his wonderful lady was brushing her teeth. He hopped up onto the counter and looked at her, a grin on his face.

“So…?” he asked expectantly.

She gave him a look, her eyes darting down to the toothbrush in her mouth.

“Sorry, I just really want to know how you got on with my parents,” he said, bouncing a little from the excitement. “Do you like them? Do you like it here in London?”

She finished up and then wiped her mouth. “I like them, everyone's really sweet. And this city is pretty great… from what I’ve seen of it.”

And she turned on her heel to go to the bedroom. Tom followed after her, wanting more than just a sentence.

“Anything else?” he asked as he flopped facefirst onto the bed. “Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?” He placed his chin in his hands and smiled up at her.

She shrugged. “My comment is that I have no concerns. My thoughts on the other hand…” She raised her eyebrows and crawled onto the bed.

The two of them got under the covers and just held each other for a moment. Tom kissed the top of her head, oddly content. He was glad they got past the tense, over-the-phone silence. Things were okay now.

_____

next.

[camilawalkerr]

"if i had to do the same again I would.” // "would you laugh at me if I said I care for you?" // "you are a wonderful person. your friendship means a lot to me and you look very beautiful." // “i have an idea, it’s very uncool. it’s not illegal, technically. but it is a dick move.” // "i’m a simple man. i like pretty, dark-haired women and breakfast food.”

"If i had to do the same again I would.”

“So you’re going straight in for the kill, you know the rules.” she said with a strained laugh. It felt like drowning. She couldn’t breathe, but  she didn’t want to. If Liam meant throwing herself into the deepest part of the ocean, God she was going in headfirst. She watched him. The booze clouded her brain and sent ripples of warmth through her body like waves blanketing the sand. She hummed softly, the touch nearly tickling her, as her eyes drifted to the dock. “Liam?” She’s disappointed when he looks away, her fingers subconsciously dancing patterns on his skin, as her stare raised to his features. She felt his eyes on her before they followed his gaze. Camila watched their boat, with it’s chipping paint and fading words, rock softly in the water. Her thoughts were slowed, her judgement altered by the beer in her system, “Kissing you, Liam Torrcs,” Cami whispered and leaned in close to him. She felt his warm breath on her nose. “Would be anything but small nor stupid.” Her voice faded when the right punishment never came to mind. Pieces of his hair fell, tickling the curve of his eyebrow, as Cami swiftly pushes it away. Under the bleak light of the moon, she searched his features. Despite their glassy eyes, she looked sober, serious, about her decision. Cami hummed in agreement as she looked up to Liam. The light from the moon bounced off of the water and perfectly hit his cut features. The mocha in his eyes matched the color of the teddy bear he once won her sitting on her window sill. They were often red underneath, whether from countless sleepless nights he spent staring at his ceiling or the constant joint in his hands that dilated his blood vessels, she didn’t know. “Good, cause I think I wanna do it again.” Cami felt her cheeks flush scarlet and met his eyes. Their noses touched. Everything in her felt warm and electrified. In one second she was prepared and anxious and in the next, all she could think about was how warm Liam’s mouth was pressed against her own. She felt as if there was a raging inferno inside her heart. Cami felt her chest plummet and closed her eyes. “That’s a relief. I was beginning to think this entire thing was one sided.”

"Would you laugh at me if I said I care for you?”

Camila lay on the damp grass of the large field; the sun beating down harshly upon her. It was late afternoon. She moaned in pain as she lay on her side, clutching her knees to her chest with a growl of irritation, she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. Cami’s knees bounced up and down from the adrenaline that coursed through her. Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks, her anger cooled when Liam glanced down at the ground, fiddling with his fingers. She rolled the inside of her lip between her teeth, “Do I gather from your polite lack of response, as I’m bleeding out in a strangers backyard that you’re planning my eulogy?”  Camila responded, and lip, despite her anguish, cracked a smile, however subtle.  This is what Cami was masterful at; supporting the group in spite of their dysfunction. This tempestuous boy whose brain was on fire with knowledge and alcohol and compassion.  When she was a little girl, she wondered if he would not just love her back, but love her how she loved him; wholly, unconditionally, and with purpose. She knew the answer now. “At this point, I’ll take what i can get from you. Can't help but wonder if this Is the last time that I'll see you,” she mused dramatically now, before laughing weakly. He was like the peace that she had always searched for. Her heart pounded in the same way as when she danced, her nerves stood on end like when she was buzzed, her breath hitched like when she stepped into the ocean on a cold day, “I wish I could say something that doesn't sound insane, but I’d never laugh at you Torrcs. I thought it was obvious that we care about each other moron. Now help me up, before I really drop dead.”

"You are a wonderful person. your friendship means a lot to me and you look very beautiful."

The flowers were woven perfectly into a crown that she bore on her soft brown curls, and yet the fairy lights hanging high above were arranged into pretty patterns, the absurd amount of lighting made her head pulse. The people surrounding her wore shining smiles complimented with kind words, and yet they were all liars. She hated it here mostly because the crowding conversations, the same ones her parents made her join, always seemed to completely drown the sounds of the ocean crashing against the sand. Camila never wanted to go to Midsommer for she never found the appeal of heavy jewelry and heels that made her feet ache, and yet here she was staring out at the horizon, that could no longer be seen in the dark of the night, trapped in a conversation she faded from a long time ago. A deep, audible exhale escaped her nose as she tried desperately to put out the fire in her chest. It had grown stronger and harsher by the interaction with the boy. Her shaky hands smoothed the fabric of his suit as if to release the building energy in her body, as she fiddled with his tie. “Please,” she stood straighter, “you flatter me too much. Seriously, do you see how good you look in the suit? Ladies are going to be lining up,” She played with the stray strands of her hair to busy her hands and conceal the shaking of her fingers.Liam Torrcs. Of course. His eyes were bright as always, his lips stretching into an effortlessly pure grin. The freckles adoring his sun kissed skin were pronounced under the fairy lights. The reflection of the shining moon could almost be seen in his rich brown hair. “Hey,” her fingers subconsciously tapped to the beat of the song as a bubble of laughter escaped her. At the melody of her best friend’s laugh, the one true familiarity Camila had always clung to, she began to feel the tightness in her chest fade as if it were a knot being untied, “things aren’t quite as bad when I have you around. You’ll always be my person.” She muses, as she places a chaste kiss against his cheek now. “Come on, one last dance?”

“i have an idea, it’s very uncool. it’s not illegal, technically. but it is a dick move.”

A handful of small, faint scars littered his face; one forming on the peak of his cheek where a gash opened a week prior and a fading bruise still sat. His lips were pursed, jaw tight, as her stare lingered. “This probably isn’t gonna end well, is it?” she asked delicately, her voice fighting against the sounds of the night. A pause fell between the four, inviting either to back out, as they all watched as Camila finished her piece. The quiet doesn’t last forever, unfortunately. She stands for as long as she can in the calm, listening to the routine chirp of birds echoing around her, as makes her last rounds before the customers leave the shop but Barron’s money floats in the back of her mind, insistent, prodding, like a fresh paper cut. Consciously, she glances back towards her friends, where both the money and their newly acquired gun lie inside, safely rolled up in the sleeves of the van. “ Thank you for your confidence, which i will now betray. We’ve already got people looking for Thomas, last week we almost had to bail you out of jail. Now, is not the fucking time for technicalities, before one of you end up dead.” But lately, Camila had taken to staring at Liam’s hands. At the way his sunglasses sat on his face and the way they often didn’t. At his arms and his legs. At the occasional flash of a tan line on his feet. At the way he furrowed his brow and bit his lip and beamed and frowned and laughed and held her hand like he’d never held anything so wonderful before. “ I get that whatever’s in that safe is the answer to all our problems. But people are washing up dead, every week. I can’t afford losing you guys too, so whatever it is… just do it without me.”

"i’m a simple man. i like pretty, dark-haired women and breakfast food.”

They’re sitting on the back porch swing of Thomas’s place, their thighs sticking to the seats like bubblegum from the summertime humidity.  There’s melodies pouring from the radio as she  hums along with the rhythm. Camila hands him his breakfast as she is draped across the seating, smoking a cigarette, and Liam is watching her.  She catches him staring and she feels her cheeks redden into crimson.“Why don’t you take a picture, photographer Liam?  it’ll last longer,” she punches his arm in jest, and  she laughs, they both do, a real laugh that eats away at her throat like a rabbit burrowing out of the earthen soil. They shove each other, sticking out her tongue, and she snickers to herself. He has a way of getting under her skin. Maybe that’s why she bruise so easily.  She’s smiling like she knows something he doesn’t. “Oh, totally. And I don’t like the quiet, that’s why you got invited.” She teases now, everything is quiet around them. A sleeping Lux and Thomas hidden away somewhere,  a winsome silence that wraps around you like a silk ribbon tenderly swaddles around a gift; that holds you together, so you don’t fall apart. It’s impossible to collapse around Liam, but so utterly possible at times, he makes her into a mosaic and thoughtfully pieces her  back together with calloused hands. “today feels like a memory already,”  She whispers more to herself than to him.  Liam smiles and she feels like it’s the first time she's seen his eyes illuminate in a twinkle of bokeh in weeks. The two  of them sit side-by-side, Cami and his fingers intertwined, she’s barely touched her food now. “Eat up, let’s catch some waves have a you and I day, hm?”

[dansphlevels]

Smelling of Smoke (And Hearing Voices Not There)

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5, Pt 6, Epilogue, ao3

Summary: Phil was a quiet type of crazy. Dan's eyes were so loud that they made everyone take a step back from his madness- everyone but Phil, who instead, stepped forwards.

Length: Chapter 1 of 7

Themes: chaptered fic, au, mental asylum, trigger warning, insanity, dark TW: mental illness, schizophrenia, depression, mentions of suicide/suicide attempts, mental hospital, abuse

 Everything, every single thing stunk of hand sanitizer and bleach. The bleach was assumably from intense cleanings, but in a place like this, you never knew. 

 Phil lay in his new room, covering his eyes with the back of his arm. That same hand was responsible for, not a few hours earlier, signing the forms declaring him in the official care of the doctors and therapists at St. James Psychiatric Hospital. He would live there for an extended amount of time, until either he was signed out by his parents, or until the doctors decided it was time for him to leave. Don't be confused- Phil chose to be there. His... state was getting worse and worse until he found the voices carrying him to a bridge and telling him to jump.  There were no bridges to jump from here. He'd be taken care of until he was stabilized once more. But for now, he was safe.  If only he knew. ---  Three days later, Phil was already settled in and thriving under the new medication and therapy, along with the regular schedules and rigorous care he was given by all of the staff.  The voices hadn't quieted yet, but he was sure they would before too long. And he'd only had one hallucination since he was checked in- at least, Phil thought. It could be hard to tell what wasn't really there, but he was pretty sure the beetles that had scampered across his floor the first night weren't really there.  Phil was walking back to his room when a loud commotion was heard, and the double doors at the end of the hall burst open, a group of at least 5 people pushing through, pushing one man taller than all of them along. The man was something else; over 6 feet of raw power and utter insanity, the only restraint holding him back a pair of handcuffs pinning his hands behind his back. But it was clear more was needed, as even then his eyes flickered around, absorbing the walls like he was considering tearing them down, like if he wanted to, he could. Despite the hoard of doctors surrounding him and holding him in, he struggled playfully, shoving the doctors off his shoulders and occasionally causing one to stumble. They could barely control him, barely handle him at all.  And through it all, the crazy man smiled, smirked with a sort of intense pride. He reminded Phil of a toddler who did something naughty and knew it, but just couldn't feel guilty. Just looking at him, you knew he was a jackal, a wolf disguised as himself, a sly smile ready to rip you apart.  The voices rose in volume, and Phil looked around before realizing no one else heard them. He could hardly make out the confused chatter, words that sounded familiar, but couldn't be interpreted. As the man grew closer, the voices got louder until Phil was pressing his fingers to his temples, muttering for them to be quiet, please be quiet, I can't hear anything.  A few minutes later, Phil was aware of a hand on his shoulder, a nurse looking at him with sincere concern. The man was gone, making Phil wonder if he had been real at all. ----  The next day, Phil found out that he truly didn't hallucinate the man when he sat next to Phil at lunch.  "Good, there's an open seat," the man said, his voice deep with a texture like the ocean, and more posh than Phil would have imagined. He sat next to Phil, not too close though it certainly felt that way. Phil sat at his own table in the cafeteria, alone with his thoughts and their thoughts. Sometimes alone was better. So when the crazed man sat next to him, Phil was already upset. That emotion quickly changed to intrigue and a little bit of worry at the man next to him. Even taller than him, with messy dark brown curls that likely hadn't been washed in more than a few days. The man smelled of aluminum, and something else.... smoke.  "Are you mute?" The man asked, almost sincerely, except for his little smirk. His eyes were wide and unblinking, and Phil wondered if he could see through people's clothes with them. It certainly seemed like it with the way the man looked around greedily, absorbing and claiming everything within sight. And now, his gaze was fixed on Phil.  He'd said something, didn't he? Phil couldn't remember, he just knew that the man stared at him expectantly, head tilted slightly. He was most certainly mad.  "My name is Phil," Phil offered, hoping he was answering the man's question.  "I'm Dan," the man said, eyes twitching to a spot a few feet away then back on Phil, intensely. He took his hand and shook loosely, despite Phil not offering his hand to shake.  Phil wondered how in the hell this man wasn't still in handcuffs. Or a straight jacket, perhaps.  Dan sat forwards and began eating, his eyes still tracking everyone in the room. Phil reminded himself that he needed to focus on eating lunch, and did just that.  Wonder what he did.  I bet he killed someone.  Maybe he'll kill Phil.  Let's hope so.   Phil looked over his shoulder, but no one was there. He could've sworn those words were real, spoken right behind him. But he knew better.  The man- Dan- had stopped eating, watching Phil with a careful intensity. "What's wrong with you?" He asked, not in a rude way, but more of blatant honesty.  "Yes," Phil muttered. "I'm in a mental hospital."  Dan's gaze told him that's not what he'd been asked.  "I have... voices, behind me," Phil explained. "Erm... in my head. Schizophrenia. And when the voices told me to throw myself off a bridge, I admitted myself here instead of listening," he explained.  Dan's expression was hard to read, besides making it clear that it had answered his question- and likely given him a dozen more to ask.  Phil cleared his throat. "And, um, you?"  The man's eyes were fully dilated. That's what it seemed, at least. Maybe his eyes were just so black that there was little difference between pupil and iris.  Maybe, Phil realized, maybe Dan was an addict. Though he'd never thought of it before, perhaps people with drug addictions came here too? To recover?  Dan was watching him, looking him directly in the eyes as if reading Phil's thoughts.  "Are you, um... a recovering addict?"    That was the first time Phil heard Dan laugh, and he almost jumped out of his skin. Loud, purely joyous laughter, and for a second the man squeezed his eyes closed in delight. Everyone stopped talking, shifting and watching them uncomfortably. Phil saw a nurse watching them, holding onto something out of sight, wielding it like a weapon she didn't want to use.  "Yes Phil, I'm a recovering addict," Dan said, his eyes gleaming obsessively. He lowered his voice along with his chin, so he was speaking quietly, dark shadows casting across his face. "I'm a pyromaniac," he muttered lowly. "I'm here on court orders after I burnt a building to the ground."  Phil's hand was trembling, but his voice remained steady- for the most part. "Was anyone inside?"  For the first time, Phil saw what Dan looked like when he was disappointed. "No. Unfortunately." His eyes flickered back up, and Phil wanted to scoot back, move away, but he held his ground. "But don't worry. I won't be in here for long."

Fic Masterlist / Request a fic / Next Chapter

[uursaminors]

you’ll look good (in between my sheets)

prompt: person A and person B meet at a bar, each nursing a broken heart after a recent breakup. bonus for a selfie and smut. 

word count: 3,654 (*aaron burr voice* sweet jesus)

pairing: daveed diggs x reader

warnings: smut, daveed “i can charm the skirts off a nun” diggs, “okay so we’re doing this” reader. 

a/n: when i die, delete this so daveed never finds this sin. 

So here's the thing, Your boyfriend Peter (Captain Dickhead, your friends would call him) called you this afternoon and so sweetly said "Hey babe, it's not gonna work out anymore! I found a sugar momma to pay my way through life so bye, it's been real" (Those weren't his exact words but that pretty much covers it)

So here you are, sulking and painfully single at a bar, drowning your sorrows in your fifth gin and tonic.

To add insult to the injury, not a single guy had approached you. You must be emitting the "I'm getting drunk because I'm miserable and self destructive and I have no self control" vibes.

You lay your head down on the bar, pressing your flushed cheek against the cool wood and trace the rim of your glass with a lazy finger.

The song on the radio changes to one of those stupid cheesy 80s love songs, you screw your eyes shut and let out a soft groan, "Nooo, I hate this song"

"Why?" A voice startles you, you peek up under long lashes to see a man sitting next to you, nursing tequila.

Wow.

Seriously wow.

He was super, stupidly attractive. Like the type of attractive that made you stop in your tracks and stare, the type of attractive that you can't help but secretly marvel at.

"Uh...um...what?" You mentally face palm, really smooth, You're practically a master of seduction.

"This song" He waves a hand, "Why do you hate it?"

You lift up, tucking your hair behind your ears and then turn to him, "I hate it because it's a love song"

"You have something against love?" He asks, quirking an inquisitive brow

"Actually I do" You reply, picking at a scratch in the wood.

He considers it for a moment before nodding, "I guess I do to"

"Really?" You reply, sending him a sidelong glance, "Why?"

"Because me and my girlfriend broke up"

"What?" You're in disbelief, "Same! But it was me and my boyfriend, not to say I couldn't have a girlfriend, that's not my orientation but of course there's nothing about that, I'm 100% for equal rights for the lgbt community and---

He laughs, it was a deep throaty sound that sends warm fuzzy feelings through your bones, "Darling, you are rambling"

"Oh" You flush deep scarlet, "That happens when I'm buzzed"

"Interesting" He comments before taking a swig of his drink, "Why did you and your boyfriend break up?"

"He found a sugar momma" You answer with a heavy sigh

He blinks in confusion and shakes his head, "Excuse me, what?"

"I know" You groan, "It's horrible! Embarrassing! My boyfriend traded me in for a granny with a fat bank account"

He laughs, you find yourself perking up, "What about you? Why are you single?"

"Let's say...different values" He replies with a wry smile

"Vague" You nod

"I don't want to talk about her" He leans in and brushes a stray eyelash from your cheek, You feel warmth bloom at the brush of his thumb against your skin, "I wanna talk about you"

                                                          . . .

Daveed, to put it lightly, was completely enamored by the beautiful spit-fire sitting next to him, he found himself admiring the shape of your waist and the length if your legs more than once.

You throw your head back a laugh, eyes shimmering with an ocean of stars, "You're playing me"

"I'm not" Daveed swears, raising his hand, "Scout's honor"

"How lame" You tease poking your tongue out at him

"So you're really a broadway star huh?" You say with a grin, tapping your fingernails against the countertop 

"I am" He insists, "I star in Hamilton, how have you never heard of it before? You live in New York"

"I know" You sigh wistfully, "I'm painfully uncultured"

"We can change that" Daveed says, "I'll get you a seat"

You raise a brow, "Oh no, I wouldn't be able to contain myself seeing your period garb"

"Really?"

"Yeah" You nod, "Mr. Darcy was absolutely my one true love for the longest time"

"How can I compete with Mr. Darcy?" Daveed wonders aloud

"You could dance with me" You reply, feeling brave and breathless and bold, "It took Mr. Darcy ages to ask for a proper dance"

"Dancing" Daveed takes your hand, “Is something I happen to excel in” He leads you out to the dance floor, there wasn't anyone dancing (after all it was a Tuesday night and this wasn't exactly a dancing sort of bar) but there was something utterly enchanting about the way Daveed pull you in, settling his hands on your waist.

You begin to more or less sway to the 80s songs that didn't seem so bad anymore.

Dancing with Daveed was nice...more than nice actually. He was so tall and masculine, and the warmth that he naturally emitted made you lightheaded.

"Hey" You whisper

"What up?" He whispers back

"Take a selfie with me" You say

He breaks into a grin, "Who are you?"

"I'm [Y/N]" You reply, "and you're Daveed Diggs, broadway star extraordinaire, and you gonna take a selfie with me so this moment can forever be immortalized on instagram"

Daveed pauses to considers it for a moment

"And it will make our exes insanely jealous" You add

"You've convinced me" Daveed replies

You laugh and pull out your phone, you slip it into Daveed's hands, "You have longer arms than me"

He grins and opens the camera app, "What pose should we do? Duck face?"

You snort, "What are we? 8th grade girls?"

"I'll take that as a no" Daveed chuckles, "What do suggest then"

"Snapchat!" You exclaim excitedly, bouncing on your toes, "We can use the cute little dog filter!"

Daveed grins in slight exasperation before opening snapchat, he applied the filter to your faces and you giggle in delight, "We look so cute!"

Daveed rolls his eyes but smiles fondly and pulls you in, at this angle you are resting your head against his chest, a one-zillion watt smile tugging on your lips while Daveed has an arm wrapped snugly around your waist.

"Cheese!" You both say as Daveed takes the picture

"Wow" You say once Daveed hands your phone back, you look at the selfie with a drunken smile, "We are a catch, why would anyone dump us?"

Daveed shrugs, "Because we're too good for them obviously"

You laugh, "I'll drink to that!"

"No, no, no" Daveed shakes his head, "No more for you, you're already drunk as it is"

You pout and lean in, laying your palms flat against his chest (You are in slight awe of the hardness of his muscles beneath you fingertips) and say "Please Daveed"

                                                          . . .

"Please Daveed"

In three things that cross his mind:

1. This night that of innocent fun with [Y/N] had turned into something else entirely aka Daveed was doing the bad, bad thing by flirting with you.

2. The way you pressed against him, looking all too doable with your lips in an adorable pout and big doe eyes that were screaming "Kiss me Daveed!"

3. He had a hard on

Daveed looks down at you with hooded eyes and takes your hands in his, his thumb rubs small soothing circles against your knuckles, a wry smile teasing his lips.

"Baby girl, come home with me tonight"

                                                           . . .

Okay.

Holy fuck.

You consider options:

You could either come home a mess and watch the Notebook (Yes you were that cliché) on repeat while drowning yourself in copious amounts of double choco chunk ice cream.

or

You could home with a insanely attractive, insanely charming man with full kissable lips and dark eyes that screamed sex.

When was the last time you actually hooked up with a stranger?

Oh that's right.

Goddamn never.

But, You feel something akin to doubt stir within. No matter how much you actually enjoyed Daveed's company or found him unreasonably attractive, there was a part of you that feel insecure with the idea of sleeping with a stranger.

"Um" You look away, shoulders drawn tight with tension, "I have to go to t- the...the...bathroom"

The moment is all but lost.

A flicker of knowing disappointment shines in Daveed's dark eyes, he nods and forces a smile, "I'm going to grab a drink...or three"

You chuckle weakly before making a beeline for the bathroom, you lock the door behind you and place a hand on your forehead.

"I'm an idiot" You mutter, "Literally I am a walking trash can"

You stumble over to the mirror and steady yourself over the sink and look at your reflection and frown.

What are you scared of? You wonder aloud, You're not scared of Daveed nor of the thought of spending the night with him. So what was it?

You look down, focusing on the anything other than reflection in the mirror.

Or, your hands tighten against the smooth porcelain of the sink, maybe you were afraid of what would happen afterward.

You've never been brave enough to do the whole one night stand deal, no matter how many times your friends tried to hustle you into it.

You were afraid of waking up to a warm spot next to you, afraid of a lack of intimacy and vulnerability.

No, you shake your head, you shouldn't think like that. You deserve to have a night where you can lose any fears, any insecurities and just let go.

You primp your appearance, making sure a hair wasn't out of place and you makeup wasn't smeared.

You inhale deeply and point at the mirror,  “[Y/N] you are a strong, independent, glowing goddess and you are going to go out there and go home with Daveed Diggs goddammit"

You nod at your reflection and straighten you shoulders and you walk out of the restroom. You see Daveed sitting at the bar, nursing his drink and looking like a defeated puppy and there is no way that you are not going home with him tonight.

You stride over to him, determination clinging to your features. Daveed turns to face you, surprise lighting his face.

In one fluid motion, you take his face in your hands and kiss him.

Daveed instantly takes control of the kiss (hot) and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer so that you were standing in between his legs. Daveed groans into your mouth, drawing your bottom lip in and sucking (super hot).

You separate after a moment, you heart running a mile a minute in your chest and you touch curious fingertips to your swollen lips and oh wow, you've never been kissed like that.

"Take me home" You find your voice as you run a thumb down Daveed's cheek, the hairs on his face tickling your skin.

He captures your hand and presses a kiss to your fingertips to your knuckles to the hollow of your wrist, his cool breath sending shivers dancing down your spine. He looks up at you through sooty long lashes and you feel something twist and rise inside you, making you feel all gooey, "C'mon then"

                                                           . . . 

You stand in the living room of Daveed's apartment and goddamn, he wasn't lying about being an broadway star (if the Grammy and Tony wasn't any indication, the niceness of his apartment was).

You immediate response was to peep around and look at all the pictures he had hanging on the wall and the vinyl he kept on display but you didn't want to seem rude.

"[Y/N]" You turn at the sound of your name to see Daveed approaching you, a grin teasing the corner of his lips, "You look suspicious just standing there like that"

"Oh" You toe the ground nervously, "Sorry"

Daveed grabs your hand, his eyes dark and he leads you into his bedroom. You swallow nervously, all bravery you felt at the bar vanished the moment you laid eyes on the bed.

"Daveed" You say suddenly, "I'm nervous"

You look down, preparing for him to be angry at you for being so hesitant but instead he tips your chin gently, forcing you to look up at him.

"Don't be scared" He replies softly, "If you feel uncomfortable or scared at anytime we can stop, I promise"

You nod silently, letting his gentle voice soothe your frazzled nerves. Daveed leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, then a kiss to your cheek, and the corner of your mouth.

He pulls away for a moment, eyes searching your face before leaning down to capture your lips. His mouth was searing hot and soft against yours, he presses against you until you back up against the wall. One of his hands weave in your hair, and he gently tugs your head to the side to reveal the smooth expanse of your neck.

Daveed trails a hot string of kisses down your neck, his teeth nipping and tugging against your skin and you nearly jump at the press of his tongue against your skin.

He pulls down the strap of you dress and kisses the newly exposed skin there before his fingers find the hem of your dress and pull experimentally, "Can I take this off?"

You nod in consent and he pulls your dress off in one fell swoop, leaving you pressed against him only dressed in your bra and undies--and thank god you were wearing your favorite set from Victoria's Secret.

"Goddamn" Daveed whispers, his voice throaty and so incredibly sexy against the shell of your ear, "You are so beautiful"

You flush at the compliment, red blossoming on your cheeks and ears. Daveed smiles at that and grabs you, lifting you onto his bed.

You land on your bed with a soft oof as Daveed hovers above you with smirk on his face. He leans down and presses a kiss to the center of your chest while his hand gently cups your breast.

You let out a whimper, slightly squirming before Daveed lifts ups and looks down at you with a grin, "My, my aren't you eager?"

"Shut up" You pout

Daveed chuckles darkly, "I love it when you talk dirty"

He unclasps you bra and tosses the undergarment to the side, he groans at the sight of your naked breasts before leaning down to capture a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the feel of wetness and moan as his tongue circles and sucks the rosy bud while he other hand gently kneads your other breast.

You lean your head back and moan as he trails a wet line from your chest, down your torso to the waistband of your panties.

You stomach coils in anticipation as he toys with the edge of your underwear, "God I want to taste you"

Your eyes grow wide and you whisper thickly, "N-no one has ever done that for me"

Daveed looks up, looking personally offended, "Excuse me?"

"No one has ever y'know, gone down on me" You say shyly

Daveed shakes his head and tsks, "I take personal offense to that [Y/N]"

He pulls down your panties, you're completely naked in front of his eyes now, "I'll take care of you now, baby girl"

Daveed spreads your legs and leans down to kiss to the juncture of your thigh, you bite down on your lip as he spreads your folds with inquisitive fingers and draws a line down your heated pink flesh with his tongue.

"O-oh my god" You cry out as his mouth finds you clit and fastens on your most sensitive area. Daveed slides two fingers into your slick entrance and works them in and out at a fast rhythm as he continues his sinful ministrations with his mouth.

Your fingers tangle in his thick curls, pressing him closer. Daveed moans hungrily against your sex as he teases your clit with his tongue, you feel your release stir and rise and rise and rise inside of you as he scissors his fingers in and out of you. He sucks on your clit one last time, burying his fingers inside of you and your body lifts as you come.

Daveed lifts up, chin wet and looking utterly and wholly pleased with himself. You place your hand against your chest and feel your racing heart.

"Daveed" You breath, voice hoarse, "C'mere"

He wipes his mouth with the back of his palm (Seriously this man was too hot for his own good) and hovers over you. You swallow thickly and run curious fingers underneath his shirt, "Take this off" You say, eager to touch more skin.

Daveed complies with a easy smile and sheds the shirt of effortlessly, revealing his toned chest. You rake your nails up the length of his abdomen, stopping to tease his mocha brown nipples with your mouth. You smile at the sound of his delicious moan echoing through the air as you move your mouth to teasingly bite at the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

You fingers fumble with his belt and the button of his jeans, but after a short moment your able to undo his jean and slide them down to reveal his straining hardness.

Your hand dips down past the waistband of his boxers and your fingers wrap around his length. Daveed bites back a groan and leans into you, pressing his head against the crook of your neck as you pump his member.

"Wanna be inside you" He slurs against your skin and you nod

"How do you want me?" You ask, thumb teasing the tip of his cock.

"On your hands and knees" Daveed says, you move into position, arching your back as you feel his hands on your ass.

Daveed lines the head of his cock with your entrances and without a moment of hesitation he enters you.

You keen at the fullness you feel once Daveed enters you, your fingers twist in his sheets as he begins to slowly pump in and out of you, drawing himself languidly before entering you again with an achingly hot laziness.

He is either teasing you (asshole) or thinks you're too soft to take him at a fast pace (seriously what an asshole!)

"Harder" You growl, "Goddammit Daveed, faster"

He stops all together and pulls out, causing you to whimper at the loss. That was the exact opposite what you wanted.

You turn with a pout to see Daveed looking down at you with a nefarious smirk.

"Beg" He says

"What!" You exclaim in surprise

"Tell me what you want baby girl" Daveed says

"Bite me" You reply snottily

Daveed bends down to bite your shoulder, you gasp, "Not literally"

"I couldn't resist" Daveed smiles, "Everything about you is so...delicious"

"What's your ex boyfriend's name?" He asks suddenly, completely changing the subject

A foul taste invades your mouth as you think of you horrible, cougar chasing ex and why in the world is Daveed bringing him up at a time like this? "Peter"

"Hmm" Daveed says, his fingers finding the space in between your thighs and he grins at the wetness he finds there, "By the end of tonight, you won't even remember Peter's name"

You blink in shock as Daveed hooks your legs over his shoulders and enters you again in a slick motion. You nearly shriek at the sensation as he pounds into you, filling you to the core.

Incoherent noises fall from your lips as Daveed hits that one special spot, His brow furrows in concentration as his hand slips in between your heated bodies to work your clit.

You barrel head first into your second orgasm.

"Daveed" you pant, grasping at the sheets as he thrusts into you again and again and again in a delicious rhythm. He trails one hand up the length of your body and wraps it around your neck in a gentle but firm hold.

You moan helplessly, eyes screwing shut in pleasure as he continues to fuck you.

"I'm close" Daveed murmurs, his voice thick as his pace begins to become uncontrolled.

You lift your hips, meeting every thrust and you don't even have time to catch your breath before your third and last release sneaks up.

You see stars when you come.

A deep groan draws from Daveed's lips as he spills inside of you, his fingers tightening a fraction around your neck in a delicious hold and wow, he looks beautiful--mythic even when he comes undone.

He pulls out of you with a satisfied sigh, running a hand through the tangle of his thick hair. He lowers himself on top of you, a smile on his face as he captures your lips in a soft, sweet kiss.

"Hmm" You hum happily into the kiss, stretching out your legs and running your toes against his calves.

Daveed chuckles slightly, it was a deep throaty sound that vibrated in his chest and he falls next to you, stretching out on his bed like a fat lazy cat.

"Goddamn" He breathes out, "You...now you, wow [Y/N]. You were incredible"

You lean back, very smug and very happy, "They don't call me dick slayer for nothing"

Daveed sent you an incredulous look before erupting in a fit of laughter, "Please do not ever say that again"

You giggle with him, finding his laughter absolutely contagious. Daveed moves to his side and pulls your back against his sculpted chest.

"When I wake up in the morning..." Daveed says, toying with a lock of your hair, "You better be here"

You smile, "What's in it for me?"

"Morning sex and free coffee"

You laugh and pretend to consider your options, "I'll stay...but only for the coffee"

Daveed laughs and bites your shoulder playfully, "I'll make sure it's the best coffee you've ever had so you'll keep coming back"

You grin, pressing a kiss to the open palm next to you, "I don't think that will be a problem"