#me trying to accept reality while simultaneously hoping for better but also knowing it could never be and just being completely conflicted

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

Aftermath

Guess who’s back with another Rick and Morty centric fic? This season has had a severe lack of Rick and Morty together (and Morty as a whole tbh) so I guess the way to remedy that is fanficfion! Also everyone was so nice and encouraging to me before (thank you all so much again for being so supportive!) so I decided to post it. I also wanted to explore the issues with how Rick treats Morty since it’s an important part of their dynamic that I don’t want to ignore and even though I love some wholesomeness between the two of them, I don’t want to ignore Rick’s shittiness.

Summary: the aftermath of Rick: A Mort Well Lived. Rick knows he’s a shitty grandpa and feels bad, and tries to make things better with Morty, who is struggling a lot. Hurt/comfort, ~2k words. Quick disclaimer that this is entirely platonic, please don’t tag as ship.

Morty is uncharacteristically quiet on the flight home. At first, Rick gladly accepts Morty’s willingness to listen in silence while his sister rambles on excitedly about her Die Hard adventure, since it means he’s less likely to give away any signs that a part of him is missing. However, as more and more time passes, Rick starts to tune out what Summer is saying - despite the grandfatherly pride he feels blooming in his chest as she recaps her adventure - as he becomes increasingly concerned about Morty. It isn’t unheard of for Morty to sit quietly after a particularly intense or traumatic experience, but Morty’s face betrays the hard work he’s doing to puzzle his way through what has just happened to him. Almost like someone who’d been split into 5 billion separate parts trying to put them back together, Rick thinks wryly. He can’t be sure exactly what Morty remembers from his time in Roy, but there is one thing Rick can be sure Morty doesn’t remember, and it makes guilt bubble uncomfortably in his stomach. For once, Rick knows he has to be an adult and take responsibility for the situation.

Snapping back into reality, Rick realises Summer is looking at him expectantly.

“Ha! R-real cool, Sum-Sum!” he replies, reaching across to touch her shoulder and hoping it’s not obvious he hasn’t been paying attention. Summer beams in response, telling Rick that he’s convinced her, but simultaneously making him feel like an even worse grandpa than normal.

“Hey, you know, I think I have the audiobook of Tower Man on here somewhere,” he taps on the dashboard, indicating the ship’s hard drive. “You can finally find out what a Die Hard really is.”

“Psh! I already out-Die Hard-ed those aliens, what’s their shitty book gonna teach me?” Summer snarks back. Rick loves Summer’s attitude and thinks she’s badass, cooler than he can ever dare to let her know, but right now his main concern is the fact that his distraction has failed and they’re still about an hour away from home.

He sees Summer notice his disappointed expression and change her tone. “But, y’know, we could listen to it… just to make fun of it.” she adds, inspecting her nails coolly but betraying her facade with a glance to see his reaction, and Rick knows that she’s seeking his approval. He wonders briefly if she truly wants his validation, or if she’s just trying to make him happy by going along with what she thinks he wants, but either way he’s got his distraction.

He grins and extends a fist out to her. “Hell yes.” 

Summer responds with a grin of her own and meets his outstretched hand in a fist bump. Rick puts the audiobook on, the two of them exchanging quips and insults every now and then. Gradually, Rick starts to relax a bit and enjoy the banter, only occasionally letting his eyes flick to the mirror to check on the silent, unresponsive boy in the back.

When they make it home, Space Beth’s ship is parked in the drive, and Summer leaps out excitedly to brag to her as well. With the sole witness finally gone, Rick lets his guard drop just a little as he turns around to speak to Morty.

“H-hey, buddy. Look, since we didn’t get to stay at Blips and Chitz, whaddya say we go get some ice cream?” He offers, making his voice as gentle as his own aversion to vulnerability will allow.

Morty continues to stare vaguely at the floor. “Sure, Rick. Whatever you want.” he replies glumly, as if Rick had proposed a typical unpleasant adventure instead of a frozen dessert.

“Or w-what about pizza? You want pizza?” Rick tries again. Morty merely shrugs, not even responding this time.

“Come on Morty, work with me here. You tell me where you want to go.” Despite his best efforts, Rick hears the frustration he’s feeling spill over into his voice.

“I don’t know, Rick! OK?” Morty shouts, finally looking up at him. Rick’s brow raises in surprise as he sees tears forming in Morty’s eyes, his fists curled into balls at his sides. “You’re in charge, remember? I’m just the sidekick. You tell me what we’re doing.” As he speaks, the volume and emotion in his voice begin to peter out, and he slumps back into his seat. Even though he’s more worried than ever, Rick has to fight the automatic reaction to snap back at Morty in retaliation. Unfortunately, it’s a fight he rarely wins, and this time is no exception.

“Alright, fine! I-I-I was just trying to do something nice for you, but fuck me, I guess! Y-y-y-you wanna be a whiny little piece of shit, Morty? Fine!” Even as the words are spilling out of his mouth, Rick regrets them, wants to take them back, but they just keep coming. Morty just huffs and crosses his arms, curling into himself.

Rick takes off again, and they fly in angry, tense silence for a few minutes before landing at a nearby ice cream parlour of Rick’s choice. Rick is half-surprised when Morty climbs out of the car and follows him, but decides not to call attention to it. When they enter, Rick orders for them both, having a feeling Morty will refuse to speak anyway, but making sure to get a flavour he remembers Morty loving - mainly because he remembers that he spent most of the time making fun of Morty for choosing such a lame and boring option. Great. Yet another way I’m a shitty excuse for a grandpa. 

When they sit down with their ice creams, neither of them speak, or even show much interest in their desserts. Morty pokes at his moodily with a spoon, while Rick chokes down a few mouthfuls before giving up altogether. Eventually, when it becomes clear both of them are done, Rick stands and throws some of the local currency down on the table before leaving, hearing Morty follow behind him.

They get back into the car, Morty choosing to sit next to Rick this time. The two sit silently in the parked ship until the building tension starts to become suffocating.

“Morty, look, just, just tell me what’s wrong, OK?” Rick stutters, trying to soften his tone as much as he can.

Morty looks up at him and bursts into tears. “Rick, I’m so confused.” he heaves the words out between sobs. “I-I don’t know what happened to me in that Roy machine but I feel like something’s wrong and I-I-I don’t know what it is but it’s missing and I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back and I’m scared!” His face is dripping with tears and snot, and Rick isn’t particularly big on physical affection at the best of times, but his guilt overpowers these factors enough for him to wrap his arms around Morty and pull him into a hug. 

At first, Morty stiffens in shock, but quickly buries his head in Rick’s chest, sobbing violently and clinging to Rick like a life preserver. The combination of noise and mess and Morty’s intense emotions and his own guilt threaten to overwhelm Rick, but he swallows and tries his best to push through it. He knows he should comfort Morty, wants to comfort Morty, but he is wildly out of his depth. He brings one hand up to Morty’s head and strokes his hair, muttering gentle ‘sh’ noises to him.

The sensation of Morty’s hair between his fingers helps calm Rick down enough to bring him back to thinking clearly. Unfortunately, with clarity comes an awareness of his responsibility, and with that comes the full weight of his guilt. 

“Sh, Morty, it’s OK, I’m here. Grandpa’s here.” he murmurs, then swallows hard and struggles to get the words out. “I love you, Morty.”  

At this, Morty pauses and pulls back just enough to look at Rick’s face. He looks so hopeful yet distrustful, as if wanting to believe it but not daring to let himself. Rick can’t blame him for this, but he feels a heavy sinking feeling in his chest and stomach at the realisation that he is to blame for his own grandson feeling this way.

“Do you mean it, Rick?” Morty asks, his voice and bottom lip both wobbling in a manner more suited to a child half his age. Rick nods mutely, feeling as if his throat is too tight to speak. Morty presses again. “Do you promise?”

Rick pulls Morty back to his chest, partly because it’s easier to say it without looking at Morty, partly because he’s worried he’ll start crying too and he doesn’t want Morty to see.

“Yes, Morty. Yes, of course I do. I… I love you, and I respect you, a-and I’m sorry I never said it before.” Rick replies, fighting to keep his voice steady. Morty tightens his grip on Rick.

“I love you too, Grandpa.”

Rick loses his composure at that, just a bit. Thankfully, Morty shows no sign of letting go for the few minutes it takes for Rick to collect himself. 

They remain holding each other, silent except for Morty’s occasional sniffles. They hold each other for longer than Rick thinks he’s ever held anyone or been held by anyone in his life. It’s the kind of hug he’s imagined he would give his original Beth and Diane if he could somehow have one more day, one more hour, even one more minute with them again. 

Eventually, Morty pulls back, not fully, just enough that the hug is loose instead of tight, and rests his head against Rick’s shoulder. In turn, Rick rests his own head on top of Morty’s.

“Rick?” Morty’s voice is shaky, tentative.

“Mm?”

“Do you think… will I… will I be OK? After all the Roy stuff, I mean.”

“I did my best, Morty. I came in straight after you. I got you back. You should start feeling like yourself again soon.” Rick chooses his words carefully, not quite able to bring himself to outright lie to Morty, but still not prepared to tell him the truth. 

“OK, Rick. I trust you.”

Fuck.

Rick tries to ignore the way his stomach drops and churns at that statement.

“H-hey, Rick? You know what you said earlier?”

Rick instantly panics, trying to mentally scan every word he’s said to Morty that day. Has Morty figured it out?

“W-w-what’s that, Morty?” He tries to sound casual.

“A-about pizza?” Morty looks hopeful, innocent, and Rick hates himself for feeling so relieved at getting away with his dishonesty. He forces a smile and ruffles Morty’s hair.

“Sure thing, buddy.”

They fly in silence, again, but it’s more comfortable this time, both of them simply too emotionally and mentally drained to make conversation. Morty is practically falling asleep by the time they arrive, but as soon as their food is ready, he perks up enough to wolf down his pizza. Rick can’t blame him; once he takes his first bite, he barely even pauses for breath until he’s finished. By the time he glances over at Morty, the kid is already asleep, and Rick can’t see a reason to disturb him. In a rare moment of tenderness, he removes his lab coat and drapes it over his grandson’s sleeping body.

Morty stays asleep, dead to the world, for the whole flight back. He stirs, very slightly, when the ship lands with a jolt in their driveway, but only stays awake for the briefest of moments before slipping back into sleep. Rick resigns himself to carrying Morty up to bed and scoops him up. Rick isn’t particularly strong, even with all the cybernetic enhancements, but Morty is small and skinny for his age, so it’s more of an awkward task than a strenuous one. As he places Morty into bed, he’s reminded painfully of doing the same for a much younger Beth, and he feels a paternal instinct rise from dormancy and take over. He tucks Morty in and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I love you.” he mumbles, almost under his breath, figuring he might as well get used to saying it. Morty doesn’t respond, and he adds, “I-I’ll get you all back, Morty. All of you.”

#rick and morty #rick and morty spoilers #rnm #rnm spoilers #rick: a mort well lived #rick a mort well lived #rick sanchez #morty smith #summer smith #autistic rick #autistic rick sanchez #autistic morty #autistic morty smith #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #my fic #rick and morty fanfic #rnm fanfic #i never remember what tags i use so i use all of them

[instantartific]

For the lovesick event, could we get Nova with "Shouldn’t you be spending more time with me?" Feels very him tbh lol

|ও DJ SUBATOMIC SUPERNOVA: "Shouldn't you be spending more time with me?"

587 words |

contains heavy themes of manipulation, themes that can be read as gaslighting, themes that can be read as coercion, heavy themes of forced isolation. |

Going for my heart with the first request being Nova. Anyways, I like the thought of a Nova that tries to guilt-trip you into only ever thinking about him and this would be part of the descent into that. Hope you enjoy! |

✧

It starts sweeter this time.

A better word may be gentle.

Soft phrases, words close to hushed pleas, fluttering across the room. They take so, so much care in delivering each vowel in dowries laced with silk. It's difficult to resist.

"While it grates me to no end to sound childish, it really doesn't seem fair for you to do this to me."

But you know him.

You know this changes, in late-night calls like this, where he only wanted a sliver more of your time.

As sleep tinges your senses with an off numbing hue, the words grow oh so colder. They grow oh so thin. They truly give his name such an apt meaning.

And he's only being patient.

"When I do try to make enough time for us to make plans, you want to cancel. Because of—what? What is it this time?"

You also know it wouldn't have mattered what you said.

Friends are irrelevant, you can simply reschedule for some other time that isn't already his. Which is understandable. It's wrong to promise someone your time when... you could've sworn you had no plans that day. He's chided you more than once for being oblivious to your own schedule.

Work is really quite trivial when someone with his degree of prestige offers to cover about any expense you wish, with minimal exceptions. He's mentioned in the past that housing falls right within his capabilities. It's truly a wonderful offer.

Family are clearly important to most, but don't they become too overbearing over time? You're not a child anymore. You don't need to be checked up on every interval they please. Besides, some get-togethers would really go better over the phone rather than going through all that trouble, wouldn't they? And at that, while it is a sad reality, certain relatives really only care about the status you have as their, well—relative. They don't even know you anymore, do they? You aren't the little one you used to be or the one they want you to be, and if they cannot accept that, then perhaps some distance is necessary.

So there really should be no excuse unless you don't want to spend time with him.

And you think that's the case, he cannot—he will not allow you to continue to socialize with whoever keeps poisoning your mind.

"I'll make this as easy as possible. You are going to arrive here in the next..." A slow, dragging sigh echoes through the reciever. He muttered bitter nothings too low to hear. But you can tell what they meant: you've made another mistake. "Two hours should be sufficient time for you to get your belongings together, should it not?"

Your final mistake.

"Don't act like you don't understand. You're smart enough to know that both in- and improper- action has as much consequence as action would. However, you're simultaneously distracted enough to continuously fail to manage your time and efforts properly. I'm giving you the opportunity to be distracted no longer. I'm sure you realize that, don't you?"

... As heavy as the lack of sleep weighs on your mind, perhaps this would be best. Less awkward reservations. Less irritating work hours. Less people who don't know you.

He's being generous. He's only worrying.

You know that, too.

So much so that it's difficult to refuse as his voice lulls into that near-heavenly tune, and he helps walk you through the most logical way to pack your things.

#... do i main tag this is the question. #why not. #nsr headcanons #dj subatomic supernova #djss #ও ~ ask game! #ও ~ writing event! #ও ~ writing

[feminexisting]

The 13th Reality: The Journal of Curious Letters by James Dashner

I’ve presumably owned this book for several years now, but I don’t remember getting it. There is no price sticker on the book, so I don’t know where it came from or how much it was purchased for. Maybe it was one of the advanced copies I got in junior high? I chose to read this book because I thought it could be interesting and I liked the colors on the cover. 

The premise is that one day 13 year old Atticus “Tick” Higginbottom gets a mysterious letter in the mail, promising danger and adventure in the coming weeks and months, and that this can be circumvented by burning the letter, but at the cost of never finding out why the letter was written, or by who. Tick has to uncover the secrets of the letters to find out what’s in store for him so that he can eventually save his life and, potentially, the lives of everybody in the multiverse, along the way meeting new friends and making new enemies, all on the countdown to the coming adventure. 

If there’s nothing else I can say about this book, I can at least say that it helped remind me that I prefer science fiction over fantasy - well, I suppose this book might technically fall into the realm of science fiction due to its multiversal happenings, but it’s written so whimsically that that much is easy to forget. Listen... this book was. Fine. I guess. But it had nothing great going for it. Nothing really stood out about it. Sure, it had interesting parts, but, like, the writing style wasn’t great, the characters weren’t particularly endearing, and the journey wasn’t particularly enjoyable. It was just... a very middling book. 

While reading fantasy, it’s important to have a healthy suspension of disbelief. This is how you come to accept things like, for instance, being able to want something so badly you can alter a timeline just by thought, or by believing that preteens would be better for situations like this instead of adults. That said, some of the things in this book just couldn’t be overlooked. Mainly the fact that no children/preteens/teens have ever spoken Like That. I have to wonder if the author has ever been 13 or has ever met 13 year olds. I also have to wonder, based on Tick’s dialogue with his sisters (especially his older sister), if the author was an only child, because siblings Don’t Talk Like That. 

In every book, I allow myself a sort of wishlist, you know, the things that I want to happen. In this book, I hoped that Tick would grow up to be gay. Now, there were a few things working against me - namely, the fact that this book was written in 2008, and the fact that it was written for children. I know that the likelihood of Tick growing up to be gay is highly unlikely. That said, since we never saw a glimpse into the future (at least, not in this book), it could happen! And I want it to happen, because from the way Tick was written, it’s apparent that he really idolizes the men in his life while simultaneously not caring much, if at all, for girls. Even Sofia, the girl who is the most likely one for him to be interested in, was very firmly just a friend to him. Compare this to Tick’s interactions with, say, Sato, and I have to say, I see more romantic chemistry there than with her. 

I thought it was interesting how Tick opted to tell his dad everything about the letters. In most YA novels I’ve read, the protagonist doesn’t confide in their parents, and only occasionally in their friends, so the fact that he felt comfortable enough to tell his dad about what was going on was a really cool direction. That said, I kind of feared and kind of hoped that his dad would try to burn the letters when he learned about everything that was happening. I understand that he trusted his son, and maybe he thought Tick was the only person capable of stopping things, but... I don’t know, how can you see your child get viciously attacked by a swarm of metal gnats and then still send him on his way, y’know? 

I guessed that the Mr. Chu from Chu Industries was an alternate version of Mr. Chu from school before it was revealed. Not much to say about it, just that I was proud of myself for figuring it out, haha. One thing to note, though - at one point, while Tick was thinking about the Chu Industries Mr. Chu, he briefly considered whether it were time travel, but dismissed it because he didn’t think Mr. Chu would travel back in time just to antagonize his students. I have to disagree. If he were one and the same person using time travel, then in the future wouldn’t he have known about Tick’s involvement working against him? Wouldn’t it have been far easier to travel to the past and make Tick trust him, just so he would have a chance at getting him to join him or, at the least, throw him off his game long enough to beat him?

I didn’t like how everyone was being so unfair to Sato. Why shouldn’t he be suspicious of everybody and everything? Tick, Sofia, and Paul all had the luck to find each other online, but Sato didn’t find them, so he has no reason to trust them. Plus, he was whisked away from his home in the middle of the night to a strange and dangerous new place. Isn’t that scary? Isn’t it understandable why he would react like a cornered dog? And, of course, that isn’t even to mention his past and his trauma surrounding Master George and his family’s deaths (I didn’t mention this part because the kids weren’t aware of it, either, so I won’t blame them for it). 

There was one point, after everybody met up in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, where Master George reveals that he was the one who set loose the Gnat Rat on Tick and played other tricks on the kids. The kids are, understandably, very upset and uncomfortable at this prospect, and voice their discomfort, only for George to belittle them for it. He explained that he only did it to weed out the people that couldn’t handle it, but, I don’t know, the fact that he screamed at them over it and tried to make them think it was completely understandable and reasonable to attack children like that... I don’t like that. Maybe George is the lesser of two evils, but I still don’t trust him at all. This is a moot point, I’m sure, because I doubt in the future he reveals himself to be evil or whatever, but it was a part that sat uncomfortably with me and made me wish I could grab the kids and run away from him, because who knows what he might say or do if they did something he didn’t like?

At one point, Sofia, the rich and presumably white Italian girl, calls Paul, the black boy who doesn’t have money enough to buy a flight to Alaska (beyond that, we don’t know his financial situation), a “talentless bum in every reality.” I really, really didn’t like that. She also was very unforgiving towards Sato, the Japanese boy. I don’t know, I don’t think we had to have her being so mean to the only two people of color in the book. 

I didn’t like that Sato chose to stay with Master George in the end. It felt kind of manipulative, George saying that he doubted Sato’s foster family would even notice he was gone. Sato accepted the invitation too readily, almost like he trusted George at that point, rather than wanting to stay close to keep an eye on things. I wish we knew more about Sato... and I wish he could get a therapist. At least he trusts Tick so much now, though. I thought it was sweet how comfortable he was around him after Tick saved his life. 

At the end of the book, I wish all four kids had shown a possibility that they could control the mysterious new power, rather than just Tick. I know he’s the protagonist, but I hope it’s something that everyone can eventually harness. 

One final thing I didn’t like about the book was the fact that Tick never dropped the nickname Tick and instead went by his real name, Atticus, and that he never stopped wearing his scarf, which covered his birthmark that he was embarrassed about. Earlier in the book, he had lost his scarf, but while sitting with Sofia, he realized he didn’t mind it, because she wasn’t treating him any differently, and he had explicitly thought to himself that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to leave the scarf off, only to crush his own spirit and tell himself that he needed to keep it. And, of course, the nickname is terrible; it was given to him by his school bully and instead of retaliating against it or hating it, he just accepted it and wants everybody to call him by it? Isn’t that sad? Isn’t it sad that his self esteem is so low that he can’t lose his scarf crutch and he goes by the name of a disease-ridden, blood sucking insect? Shouldn’t he, as the protagonist, be allowed freedom from these after a time? 

The book was... fine. That’s all it was. Not fine enough to be a true middle fine, but fine all the same. 2/5. 

My bookmark for this book was a lime green ribbed ribbon with knots at both ends.

#april 2023

[scxrlettwxtches]

i’ll be here, always and forever. | lee minho 

genre: sick!fic, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, female!reader

warnings: description of migraines

prompt: i called you at 2am because i need you

description: no matter the situation, lee minho would never hesitate to drop everything to come to your aide, even if it was ass o’clock in the morning.

word count: ~2.7k

a/n: im not sure if this was what you wanted anon but i hope it suffices! >.< also, the descriptions of the migraines come from my own personal experience with them, so i hope they aren’t entirely inaccurate. i’ve been struggling with them for a long time now, so this fic was honestly a little therapeutic to write. hope everyone enjoys! love you all! <3

You never liked to bother people.

It was just your personality; asking people for help meant that you were taking up their time, taking up their time meant that you were annoying them, annoying them meant that you were dislikeable. So, to avoid this whole domino effect, you just never bothered people for anything at all.

That began to change when you starting dating Minho.

Lee Minho was an angel and a devil all rolled into one combination package. You couldn’t get one without the other, and to be honest, you didn’t want one without the other. You loved his softer side, his gentle care and affection, but you also adored his rather brash pranks and antics. Life would be boring if he wasn’t trying to annoy you in some way.

Minho was the first person to coax you out of your shell. He was the first person to tell you bluntly:

“You’re not bothering anyone by asking for help, Y/N. If anything, it makes people feel good about themselves when you come to them. It validates them.”

Slowly, you started to accept that as reality. You started to take off days when you weren’t feeling well, started to ask other people to share some of the burden when your asshole of a boss assigned you to the paperwork meant for at least three people because he knew you were a pushover. 

But sometimes, Minho’s brash words can push you further into slumps rather than get you out of them.

You hadn’t meant to be pushy. You didn’t mean to nag unnecessarily. You were just worried about him. There was so much pressure that he was shouldering, the weight of the new choreography, having to create it, teach it, and execute it himself. It was affecting his health, and you just wanted to alleviate his burden for a while.

You probably caught him at a bad time. You probably shouldn’t have visited the practice room to drop off some food. You probably said something that just ticked him off the wrong way, or used a tone of voice that wasn’t so sweet because you were truly frustrated by your boyfriend not taking care of himself. You weren’t sure what exactly set him off, but once you did, he lashed out at you in a way he’d never done before.

“God, can’t you see that I’m working?! I don’t need rest! I don’t need food! I need this to be perfect!” Minho snapped, whirling at you like an angry spirit. 

Your temper raged, and you retorted, “Minho, I’m just trying to take care of you! Why can’t you see that--”

“You’re such a fucking bother!”

The blood drained from your face as Minho pulled at his own hair in frustration, “W-what?” You asked softly, not quite believing what you were hearing. He wouldn’t say that, right?

“I said, you’re a bother,” Minho spat, his emotions getting the best of him, “You’re always asking me to spend time with you, always wanting me to coddle you. Can’t you do anything yourself for a change?”

His words burned, lashed at you, and wordlessly, you fled the room, tears rolling down your cheeks. You probably should’ve been more rational. Minho was already at high tensions the whole week; you could sense it whenever he came by your apartment, and his members had also messaged you about it. He most likely didn’t mean it.

But as you left the company building, your mind was like your own worst enemy, repeating his words in your head.

A bother. Do something by yourself for a change. 

You hadn’t spoken to Minho at all since that awful fight, and neither has Minho opted to contact you. You’d long stopped checking your phone for any missed texts or calls. You’d long stopped replying to the boys who were asking--no, begging--you to come over to the dorms. 

It felt like your relationship with him was on the verge of breaking, and you were shattering along with it, too.

.

Minho let out an annoyed groan when he heard his phone vibrate violently against his bedside time. What time was it? He glanced out the window, seeing nothing but pitch darkness and the minute glow of the stars that managed to shine through the city lights. His eyes darted to the digital clock on the window sill and he scoffed in disgust.

Great, someone was calling him at 2:14 am. 

He wanted to ignore it. Why does he have to answer a phone call at two in the fucking morning?

But there was something weird about the whole thing, and outside of his better judgement, he groaned, grabbing the phone and picking it up without even glancing at the caller ID, ready to give whoever was calling at that hour a piece of his mind.

“Who the fuck--”

“Minmin?” 

Minho felt his heart sink down to the floor at the sound of your voice, and the guilt flooded every inch of his being. 

“Y/N?” He asked, immediately alert as he sat upright in bed. He didn’t like the tone of you voice. Even through the speaker, he could tell immediately that something was wrong. And the fact that you were even willing to call him, meant that things must’ve been dire.

“I-I’m so sorry to bother you--” You croaked out, and Minho wanted to cry at how nervous you sounded. It was his fault. It was all his fault, “I-I just--I thought--never mind…”

“No, no, baby. Please,” Minho panicked like he never panicked before as he heard shuffling from the other side of the phone, sounding like you were about to hang up, “My angel, don’t hang up, please. I’m not angry. I’m not annoyed. Could you please talk to me, baby? Tell me what’s going on?”

His voice as gentle and soothing as he could make it, his only priority being to calm you down. Your breath hitched at his words, and he let out a silent sigh of relief as you didn’t end the call.

“My head feels like it’s going to s-split in half--I keep seeing spots in my vision, a-and I feel like throwing up,” you said shakily, letting out a whimper of pain as you spoke which sent Minho into another tizzy of panic. He was already well out of bed, pulling a sweater over his head while simultaneously trying to keep his phone pressed against his ear.

“I’m coming, baby, don’t worry, okay?” He cooed, continuing to calm you down as he waved off Chan’s concerned glance. Of course that man wasn’t sleeping yet.

“W-what?” Your voice broke in confusion as the reception crackled, the way it always did when Minho left the dorms and switched to cellular instead of wifi, “N-no, you don’t have to--I don’t even know why I-I called--”

“My angel,” Minho stopped in his tracks as he took a deep breath, “I’m coming over because I’m worried. Because I want to take care of you. Because I want to hold you, and I want to tell you in person how fucking sorry I am.”

You were completely silent, and for a moment, Minho feared that he had royally screwed up by bringing up such a clearly painful memory when you were already in pain. Then, a rustle of bedsheets sounded through the phone, and your soft, weak voice came through.

“Do you still have the key to the a-apartment or do I need to open the door for you?”

Minho felt the weight and worry in his chest loosen at your words, “You don’t have to do a single thing, baby,” he reassured you, skipping two steps at a time as he rushed down the stairs, too hurried to even stand waiting for the elevator.

He burst out of his apartment complex and immediately began sprinting towards your building, which was a ten minute walk away. He was always glad that you were close by, but in the moment, you were ten minutes too far. These were ten precious minutes that he was wasting when he could be already by your side.

“How bad is it, angel?” Minho asked as he ran down the street, haphazardly putting on his mask as he held his phone to his ear with the other hand.

You took a moment to respond, letting out another whimper of pain that caused Minho’s heart to twist, “R-really bad. Like a 9,” you croaked out, sounding immensely distressed.

Minho cursed under his breath and ran faster, “Alright, kitten. It’s going to be okay. Put me on speaker and put the phone under your pillow, okay? You shouldn’t be looking at any screens.” 

He heard the rustling of the bed sheets and the sounds began to muffle, “Keep me on the phone and make a noise if anything gets worse. I’ll be there as soon as I can angel. As soon as I can,” he promised, and he ran like his life depended on it.

.

Minho made the ten minute travel time into a record of five minutes, almost crashing into your door as he fumbled for his keys. The key to your place was on the chain right beside his, because he never wanted to break your trust and lose them accidentally. He unlocked the door and burst into your apartment, blinking to adjust to the darkness.

All of the lights were off, which was to be expected. You were always incredibly sensitive to it when your migraines hit, and Minho did his best to navigate through the hallway using the dim glow of his phone to guide him.

He knew he’d succeeded in making it to your bedroom when his ears caught muffled whimpers of pain. He hung up the phone and gently creaked open your door, “Baby?”

From the city lights outside your window, he could see a lumpy figure underneath your duvet covers, and his heart ached as he made his way towards you. You were still awake from what he could tell, and the lumpy ball squirmed and wiggled underneath the sheets as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Angel, I’m here,” he cooed as softly as possible, his hands tentatively reaching to rest along what was probably the curve of your waist. You only whined, muffled noises of agony coming through the covers, and Minho took it as a green light. You were like putty in his arms as he gently guided your body along with his, maneuvering you until you were safely curled up in his lap, your head resting against his chest.

“You really came,” you murmured, and Minho tried not to feel hurt by the disbelief that colored your voice. 

Instead, he swallowed his pride, because he knew he deserved the disbelief, “I came, darling. Everything’s going to be okay now,” he reassured you, his fingers buried in your soft hair as he hummed softly. 

You shifted your head, probably to nod at his words, but even that slight movement aggravated your headache, and a choked sob bubbled out of your throat. Minho immediately held you tighter, and one of his hands reached for yours, pressing down on the pressure point between your thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, angel, how could you let it get this bad?” He mumbled mostly to himself as you began to calm, the throbbing against your temple receding as Minho squeezed the pressure point. Vaguely, you wondered how he was able to remember that spot so easily, especially since you only recalled showing him once. 

“B-been having headaches for d-days,” you replied shakily, nestling into his chest. Minho immediately felt you shift closer and took the opportunity to hold you even closer, bundling you in the blankets as he propped himself up against the headboard, “Didn’t want to take s-so many painkillers...but it hurts, Min…”

Minho wanted nothing than to sock your migraines in the face, but doing that would mean hurting you. So, he could ultimately do nothing but hug the living daylights out of you, wishing that your pain would go away.

He tisked, massaging the pressure point soothingly as he kissed your hair, “Days? Why didn’t you tell me? You know you can barely get out of bed when you have migraines. Have you even been eating?” 

The worried questions tumbled out of Minho’s mouth as he fretted over you like a mother hen. He knew how debilitating these headaches were for you, especially on the worst days. Every movement you made would aggravate them, and there were even a couple times that Minho was on the verge of forcing you to go to the hospital. Just thinking about you being in such a dangerous state alone scared Minho more than he could stomach.

Before he could continuing worrying, your next words lashed at him like knives to the heart, “T-thought you wanted space. Don’t wanna bother you, Min...You’re s-so busy already. How could I burden you even more?”

If Minho was ever had to identify the most heartbreaking moment of his life, this would be way up there as a top contender. He never meant to do this. He never meant to make you feel like you weren’t worthy of his time. 

“Angel, I know this is a bad time,” he said, his voice raspy and low as he held you to him. You could feel the vibrations of his chest as he spoke, and you nestled into the safety he provided.

“I know this is a bad time, but I need to tell you. I’m so fucking sorry for that day,” Minho continued, holding you as if he was afraid you’d leave, that you’d walk out of his life, “I don’t have any excuses. I was frustrated with myself and I took it out on you.”

You’d known this. You’d known all of this, of course. But hearing these very words come out of his mouth made them more real, and the knot of unease and self-hatred that coiled around your heart began to loosen. 

“I know you were just looking out for me. I know you were just trying to care for me, a-and I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am for you,” Minho spoke, every word laced with regret and guilt as he continued.

“You’re not a bother. You’re not at all. You’re the farthest away from a bother. You’re perfect. You’re so kind and gentle and loving and beautiful,” The poor man was rambling at this point, lost in his love for you as you gently shifted your hand to rest over his.

As always, it was your touch, your presence that grounded him back to reality, and he took a deep breath, brushing his lips against your temple, “‘M sorry. Didn’t mean to go off on a tangent,” he said sheepishly. Fuck, he couldn’t even apologize correctly.

But you only smiled, rubbing his hand with your thumb as you murmured, “Silly, Minmin...I don’t blame you for anything. It’s okay. Thank you for apologizing.”

Minho let out a broken sigh of relief as he cradled you in his arms, kissing your hair, your cheeks,  your nose, your lips, anywhere he could.

“I love coddling you, you know?” He mumbled, kissing you again and again, “You’re my baby, my precious angel. You always take such good care of me, always making me remember my roots when I get caught up in my own work. I want to be that for you, too. I wanna hold you every night and make you happy.”

You giggled at his words, not daring to nod in case your headache got worse, but you very subtly pressed a light kiss to his jaw, “Love you…” you mumbled, “You already make me happy.”

Minho felt his heart soar your simple words, and they brought him a happiness he never thought he’d experience, or even want to experience. Taking note of your drooping eyes and the way your hand was relaxing in his, he stayed silent, only humming under his breath to help you sleep.

When he saw you had dozed off, he attempted to position you on the bed so he could do some house chores for you. The moment he shifted you, though, a cry left your lips and your fingers blindly gripped at his shirt, “N-no--”

“I’m here, angel. I’m here,” Minho immediately held you again, burying his face in your soft locks as he cradled you to his chest, “I’m here.”

You were still half asleep, mumbling fitfully as his fingers massaged your temple, “P-please stay,” you murmured, curling into his arms.

Minho felt his heart ease as you fell asleep, and under the starlight and the darkness of your bedroom, he murmured his response, sure and true.

“Always.”

#inkidz #districtninewriters #stayhavennet #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #lee minho scenarios #lee minho imagines #lee minho blurbs #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz blurbs #skz x reader #my fics

[servicetopkaradanvers]

I'm not sure if this is exactly the right place to say this, but I don't know if there is. And you're a smart person and critical thinker who has talked about this before. If this is totally weird, you can just delete it ofc. I've never properly watched Supergirl but I started reading fanfic around the time my mental health got real bad so it was a comfort thing I didn't bring too much thought to. I really identify with Lena and in the past, part of me has understood her actions-

and I know that they're wrong. The anti-alien rhetoric is obviously an allegory for racism or homophobia. She's violated people's basic human rights. And I'm scared that I'm a bad person because sometimes, I kind of get it. Which is insane because i'm a lesbian enby of color, i mean i get targeted by most of the -ist/ism actions. And I'm also too tired to think about things critically all the time. Supercorp was my comfort fic, content thing-

I knew it was problematic (the whole James thing makes me sick to my stomach, scared and sad) but I didn't know that Lena as a character was written that way. The metaphors never really clicked in my head because I never thought about it, but now I feel absolutely horrible about myself because I like and identify with Lena. I'm not really sure how to move on from here- I'm just tired. I wish there could be just one thing, one piece of media that wasn't prejudiced (granted sg is not the place to go if you want decent rep and the like) and all of those things I said earlier. Its just me somehow trying to justify how I felt and empathized with something I shouldn't have. So yeah, sorry that was really long. I hope you have a lovely day- sorry for the spam

FIRST of all, you’re fine, babe! Both in sending me this and in enjoying The Bad Media. That’s my thesis here: You’re fine. With this in mind, let’s unpack this big ol suitcase:

We’re living in a fandom moment where more than ever before, we’re thinking about the ideas we consume in fiction and how they may or may not affect us. This is a net positive! Fiction is not reality, but it undeniably impacts it, so for this and many other reasons, we should always think critically about what resonates with us and why. Does this mean dissecting every facet of something to find all the ways it might fall in line with oppressive power structures? Absolutely not.

You, as an individual, do not owe anyone an explanation for why you enjoy anything. Period. How you relate to a given character or why you like them is nobody's business but your own.

Supergirl, as a piece of media, is singularly awful in its lackluster lipservice to progressivism while simultaneously refusing to deliver any progressive themes. Socially and politically, it is a useless liberal wet dream. Kara is an immigrant from a dead culture working as the muscle for a secret FBI offshoot with zero accountability for all of the other aliens in diaspora she has rounded up and dumped into a cell without trial. Alex is allegedly a lesbian, but the key points of her endgame relationship are constantly deemed not important enough to get screen time, which is made even more absurd when examined from the angle that this series is marketed directly toward LGBT people. An embarrassing percentage of villains on this show are women of color, which is particularly loud when there are only 2 women in the main cast who aren't white. And "main" is extremely generous, given that Kelly is just there to Give Advice Good and everything M'gann says and does is as dry as toast.

My point here is that the whole show is rotted to its roots, and whatever quietly libertarian or even fascism-enabling bullshit they push onto Lena in a given week is par for the crusty, shitty course. Kara deciding that she's ok with the alien detection device because "there are bad aliens" is a lovely (read: awful) microcosm of why this show sucks so fucking hard. "People are entitled to their opinions" is for debates on whether pineapple goes on pizza, not for whether we should casually out, endanger, and disenfranchise our [insert minority metaphor here] because some of them are mean.

But what I would love for this fandom to wrap its head around, and what I hope you understand, anon, is that just because it happens on the show, doesn't mean we have to give a rat's ass about it. What the hell is The Canon, anyway? Especially in the case for Supergirl, which can't even get its own continuity right. Especially for an IP that has been rebooted dozens of times before and will be rebooted again in the future. We can just decide that Lena realized the horrible injustices she enabled through her position of power. We can even decide that they just didn't happen at all! This is all fake. It's not set in stone. Who came up with it, anyway? A network with a list of buzzwords they want included and a couple of D-tier showrunners cranking down caffeine to meet an absurdly tight deadline. It's not special. I can guarantee that you care about it infinitely more than they do, and you haven't even watched the damn show.

On a more personal level, people who are hurt, depressed, or traumatized have always and will always look for themselves in fiction. Myself included! And despite what lofty platitudes there may be on the matter, suffering does not make us kind. It does not make us better. Sometimes it's just suffering. Often it pulls us further from who we are meant to be. Often it just makes us "worse."

Trauma has made Lena emotionally brittle. A lifetime of manipulation and abuse has taught her to compartmentalize herself and lock her feelings behind a maze of doors. When she does let love in, she accepts it so wild and vulnerable that she can't see the red flags behind the rosy lenses. She latches so hard onto people she deems virtuous that she holds them to a standard none could fulfill. Her pain has to go somewhere, so it oozes out of her, into Non Nocere, into the post-reveal rift. She's a powder keg, and Kara spent 4 years shoveling more gunpowder onto the pile while holding the match between her teeth.

And despite these fatal flaws that make perfect sense through the eyes of Lena's trauma, she is so full of love. Like Kara, her suffering did not make her kind. She is kind in spite of her suffering. These are the characters we are drawn to when we're hurting. Lena’s trauma is an inextricable part of her, but it is not all of her, and neither are her mistakes.

There truly is not and never will be a piece of media that is absolutely innocent of the harmful structures thrust upon us by society, because we ourselves also participate in that society whether we are critical of it or not, whether we strive to change it or not. I'm flawed. You're flawed. Bettering ourselves is not a journey toward an ultimate destination of perfection. It is a garden we nurture in an endless labor of love because the joy that comes from seeing it flourish and change vastly outweighs the work we put into it and the weeds popping up around its unkempt edges. This is a lesson Lena herself could probably stand to internalize. Probably with lots and lots of therapy. Lots. And lots.

So, to circle back to the start of this? You're fine. You recognized the logic in a traumatized character's mistakes because our own gravest errors more often than not stem from the ways we have been harmed in the past. It's what makes Lena (or, at the very least, the many adaptations of Lena that exist in this fandom) a good character. She is, to her core, characterized proof that a crumbling foundation and poisonous soil do not define us. Which is why watching her heal and grow and learn a healthier kind of love is so, so wonderful.

In closing, I think it's worth mentioning that being critical of media does not mean that we stop enjoying the parts of it we like. There is a lot of gold to be pulled from the steaming pile of shit that is CW Supergirl, and that's why we're all here in the first place. So I really hope you can continue to enjoy it in whatever way makes you smile <3

#Anonymous #lena

[sly-merlin]

GOT PLAYED | JENO

Hello mam can I request a lawyer jeno scenario where reader (gender neutral so everyone can read) is a prosecutor and they are in the same court together

Lawyer Boyfriend jeno , gender neutral lawyer reader

Genre : fluff with nonsense bickering

Words: 1.5k

a/n: jeno is a big boi now! Happy jeno-ing!! Also the terms used are local to my country. It may vary in your state.

----

your butt was itching to dance out in the centre of the courtroom. Clicking your forefinger on the watch, you observed the lovely minute hand completing another circle, indicating the approaching end of the waiting time. The opposing party being a minute more late would mean nothing but good news for your client, resulting in another victory for you.

But when had you ever won anything without a little struggle! As the clock on the wall hit 11, the door of the room opened and across the room stood Jeno, breathing heavily like he had been running since hours. You rolled your eyes at his awful timing. He handed over his briefcase to his client and wore his blazer hurriedly while simultaneously bowing to the judge in deference and apology. The judge, disregarding his gesture with his hand called him to the front. You got up as well, in annoyance of course. You had very much hoped for his car to have punctured on its way but it seemed like he needed to get on your nerves even in the court as well. standing beside him, you couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles on the right side of his blazer. The oddity puzzled you at first but suddenly, with a subtle glare from his side, you were made aware of the reason behind his change of clothes. Not wearing the ones that you steam ironed last night was a show of anger towards you, even if it made him look like a fool in front of the whole chamber.

“a minute late and I’d have passed an interlocutory order against your client Mr.lee” breaking your trance, the judge warned him. He bowed again and mumbled a mannerly apology, the like of which you deserved too.

“today the hearing would start with the counter evidence of the defendant side, that is,” he sifted through the list of the evidence provided beforehand, “the bank records of both the parties. Please proceed advocate lee”

“yes, your honour. As I explained in a previous hearing, my client, mrs. Shin has been working as a manager of the Kwon industries since 14 years. On the other hand, mr. shin started a poker business with the money she used to save up for their only son’s future. All the transactions from her personal accounts to mr. shin’s were innocently carried out by her as she was kept under a false impression regarding the use of her money, which she never would have allowed in her right mind. The proof of these transfers is the evidence I’m going to present that is the receipts and annual reports.”

The urge to smack his tongue for the lies it told was uncontrollable but you breathed in. you inhaled all the bitterness back to your throat and stood there like an obedient child with a face ridden of any expressions.

After what felt like minutes, you snapped your head in his direction to notice the browsing he was doing in his briefcase. The questionable look on his face drew a smirk into your own as you understood the sensitiveness of the matter in hand. He forgot. The papers!

Throwing your charitable side out of the door, you turned towards the judge,

“it seems like the opposing counsel has nothing to produce, your honour.”

You felt his clenching jaw and irritated eyes.

“mr. lee, if you are unable to proceed then i’ll have to pass a maintenance order against your client.”

“no!” he interrupted, “that would be unfair to this poor lady sir. don’t penalise her for my negligence. The evidence can turn the course of this whole case. if you may, I’d request another date-

“he’s going to forget again. He forgets everything these days” before you could control, you spit out.

The judge didn’t seem to be impressed by your uncalled interruption so he warned you to speak only when allowed. But with a mouth as big as his, jeno never knew what resistance meant so he remarked,

“and my dear friend here forgets the ethics of a courtroom, disrespecting seniors like this! There is not much difference between us then I must say.”

Your lip twitched at the not so subtle mention of the fight you had in the morning, right before the breakfast. Now you were adamant on proving that no matter the place and circumstances, you were definitely not similar to him in any way.

“disrespecting and raising matters of importance are two varied things and my dear counsel should be reading those ethic rules for himself as he’s the one jeopardising the position of his client in the court due to his own manners. I request the court to grant mr. shin all the rights to his properties that mrs. Shin had seized years ago. He’s a disabled man and he cannot work by himself and the lack of evidence is a clear indication that the defendants are just trying to waste the time of the court. Along with the rights of the properties, a lawful possession of the house and maintenance charges are also requested. All the claims can be found on the page 15 of the-

“I object, your honour. I am accepting my mistake. This woman deserves a second chance. My junior was sick and since he has no near and dear in this town, I had to go and care for him. in the hurry, I forgot the papers at home. It was not delibra-

“what if you don’t remember this next time either? Until then my client is going to suffer in a small and stinky apartment and all because of your carelessness.”

“I’m not careless,” He whispered yelled.

“yes,” now facing him, you said, arms crossed in front of you torso, “a man who can’t even hold a mug properly shouldn’t be the one talking about-

“you started it by smashing the music box. It was a gift by jaemin. I bet you did it deliberately too!”

“I was sleep walking! I apologised already! There was no need to break my favourite mug you bit-

The sound of gavel reverberated in the small family courtroom, snapping both of you in the reality.

You gulped slightly, eyes boring into jeno’s but with unknown fear. In an instant, the worst consequences of blunder you both had knowingly-unknowingly committed flashed across your eyes and you both whirled around, backs bent like you both never knew what a straight spine ever looked like!

“keep your personal and professional life separate or choose the one most suitable. The court is adjourned for two days. You both shall be heavily fined for your inappropriate behaviour. Next time, I won’t be lenient. Collect your slips from the clerk.”

Apologising verbally, you took your leave.

Standing outside, you waited for the lunch time to pass so you could pay the fine. you were mad at jeno but more than him, you were furious with yourself for losing your direction. You had done exactly what you were trying to accuse jeno of in the court.

Your eyes were closed in regret when you felt soft lips on your forehead.

Smiling widely, jeno stood there as if he hadn’t been scolded for the unprofessionalism just a few hours ago.

“don’t talk to me.” You uttered, lowering your gaze.

“awww! Look how easy it is to rile you up. Thank you though”

unsure of what he said, you asked,

“for what?”

“for fighting with me! Your bickering saved my ass. The old man was going to decide the case but your cute brain worked at the wrong time! Now I have two days to turn all my lies into a living truth. All because of you my darling.”

“what the fuck I’m gonna ki-

“yeah yeah. kiss me all you want when we are home. Be professional here!” he breathed out. “how about I treat you to a nice meal to return the favour.”

Chest heaving up and down, you looked him dead in the eye, his revelations not sounding too amusing to your ears. Raising your hand up and waving the fine slip in front of him, you challenged,

“I dare you to repeat this again and I promise you wont get enough time to regret it!”

Not that you actually expected him to cry in front of you in intimidation, a hearty laugh from his body wasn’t anticipated either.

“what the fuck je-

You were once again cut off by his lips that met your cheek in a wet kiss, lasting too long for a public setting.

You hated the way he loved testing your patience.

Moving his soft lips from your cheek to your ear, he sighed before murmuring in an indecently low voice,

“you better get a new music box before jaemin visits me or I know how to make you regret your actions.”

Unmoved, you stared at him with doe eyes. He walked away before returning back only to snatch the paper slip from your hands.

“I’ll pay and sign. Go have lunch. Try to finish early today, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Innocently smiling, he left as if everything that had happened was nothing but delusion. And you hated the way he knew you like the back of his hand. But you were going to make sure he lost this one to you. Once and forever.

#nct-writers #kafenetwork #neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #nct reactions #nct x reader #nct drabbles #nct smut #jeno smut #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #lee jeno #jeno blurbs #nct soft hours #jeno fanfic #nct fanfic

[wrenhyperfixates]

Gold Writing

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When a charming, handsome stranger gives you inspiration for the first time in weeks, you try to guess what it is he’s famous for in exchange for his name. Warnings: none at all :) A/N: Just a little idea I’d been toying around with for a bit. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack​ @mythicalgarlicknot​

Disclaimer: Gif and picture not mine

It was an uncharacteristically warm day for this time of year in New York City. Or so you’d been told, anyway. You had been living here for three months, tops; not really long enough to have a feel for the weather patterns. Either way, you were grateful for the sun’s rays coating your face, bathing you in their heat.

You turned your face away from the sky and down towards the sketchbook in your lap. It had been your hope that Central Park might inspire you, but you were still having artist’s block. It was at least better than being cooped up in your apartment all day. You didn’t really know anyone yet, save for your old friend who you had moved in next to. If it hadn’t been for them encouraging you, you probably never would have packed up and moved. They’d promised to introduce you to some people they knew, too, so you wouldn’t get lonely. Sadly, the scheduling never worked out.

And so, here you were, alone on a bench. Looking at all the couples and families and friends bustling and laughing around you, you thought you might be the only person all by yourself on this Saturday afternoon. Well, no, not the only one, you realized, spying a raven-haired man on a bench not too far away. His nose was buried in a book, a few locks of his shiny, dark hair falling out of his bun and framing his face. He looked familiar, but not in a "you knew him" sort of way. More in that you thought he might be famous somehow. No one else seemed to notice him, though.

You glanced back down at the empty pages, waiting to be filled by the strokes of your pencil. Then you looked back at the mystery man again, scooting a little closer to the end of your bench. Without really thinking about it, your deft fingers picked up your standard 2B pencil and began to sketch.

Starting with the sharp lines of his jaw, you moved onto his hair that intrigued you so. You don’t think you’d ever seen another person with hair that dark a color. Trying to get every last detail right, you kept glancing up and down. By the time you were onto the shading, you were certain that you had seen him somewhere before. The next time you glanced up, he was gone, and a frown settled on your features as you looked left and right, searching for the only subject to inspire you in days.

“It is a lovely drawing, darling,” a smooth baritone voice with a British accent said from behind you, “but I do not really think that is my best angle.”

You squeaked in surprise and dropped your sketchbook. The man somehow managed to reach out in front of you and catch it. He came to sit next to you, and as he walked around the bench, you realized just how tall he was.

“I think you dropped this,” he said with a charming smile, handing your sketchbook to you.

“I, uh, yeah. I did,” you stammered, hating how you couldn’t be as suave as him. Plus, he was unfairly good looking. “Thank you. And, um, sorry. About, you know, drawing you.”

“On the contrary, darling, there is no need to apologize. I am quite happy to have my likeness captured in such a flattering light,” he chuckled, taking off his sunglasses and revealing his brilliant blue-green eyes. “Really, I should be thanking you.”

With all the small details you were gathering, it felt like his name was on the tip of your tongue. Infuriatingly enough, you still couldn’t place it. You didn’t think he was a singer, that didn’t feel right. Though you did feel like his mesmerizing voice would be well suited to it. So, a well-known author, perhaps? He had been reading, after all. But you were woefully behind on your own reading list, so you had a feeling it wasn’t that either. You briefly wondered what even happened to the book he’d had; it was nowhere on him, almost like he’d stored it in some pocket of space.

“Oh,” you finally responded, nervously laughing. “You’re welcome, in that case. And thank you. For the compliments, I mean.”

“Ah, you are very welcome, too. It is not often I meet such a talented artist.” He somehow managed to sprawl out on the somewhat uncomfortable park bench, his long legs spread wide. It wasn’t indecent, exactly, but it somehow felt like it was. His arms were resting on the back of the seat so that, had you been leaning back, one of them would have been wrapped around your shoulder. “I do somehow find it hard to believe I was the most interesting thing in the vicinity, however. Though, I suppose I am rather flattered by that notion, too.”

His mischievous grin sent pleasant shivers down your spine. “Well, when inspiration strikes,” you anxiously chuckled with a shrug. Your nerves were still telling you he was about to get mad at any second.

“I do suppose that is true.” He cocked his head at you in the most adorable way. “Then I am honored to provide you with it.”

You suddenly felt even warmer than you had before, but you knew it had nothing to do with the sun anymore, but rather was from this enrapturing stranger. Though, this man’s smile certainly rivaled the sun.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” you began, “but you seem awfully familiar. You don’t happen to be famous, do you?”

“Oh, so you have not yet figured it out, then. I had been wondering. I suppose that, yes, I could be considered famous.”

When he didn’t say anything else, you continued, “Can I get a name then? I’m afraid I don’t really keep up with pop culture all that much.”

“Well, I suppose I could tell you my name.” His grin somehow grew to be even more mischievous. “But where is the fun in that? Besides, I am afraid you might start treating me differently if you knew.”

“Ok, that’s fair.” A spark of excitement lit behind your eyes as you got an idea and turned to face the captivating stranger. “How about this, I get three guesses about what it is you’re known for. If I get it right, you have to tell me your name. If not, then it can stay a mystery forever, if you want it to.”

“A most intriguing proposition. Alright, I accept. First guess?”

“Hang on,” you said, putting up your hand. “If I only get three guesses, I feel like it would be fair if I got to talk to you for a bit longer, at least. Unless I’m holding you up from something, of course.”

“I have time to spare, darling.” He stood up and offered you his hand. “Join me on a walk?”

An easy dialogue flowed between you as you strolled through the park. The way the light was illuminating his features made your hands itch to sketch him again. That reminded you to ask about his book, which he pulled out from seemingly nowhere.

“Hang on,” you said, getting your first idea. “Are you like a-a magician or a, um, an illusionist or something?”

“Well, it is interesting that you mention that. Magic is more a hobby than anything else,” he replied. “But not what I am known for, per se. Two guesses left.”

You frowned and flipped through the pages of the book he’d handed you. Hoping he’d made some kind of foolish error, you checked the covers for his name. No such luck. Absorbed in your hunt for clues, you weren’t paying attention to the world around you. Your companion suddenly grabbed you and jerked you to a stop. A ball whizzed past your head. If you’d kept walking, it surely would have hit you.

“You really should be more careful,” he playfully tsked. Then he grew more serious as he gently turned your head, checking for injuries. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, feeling flustered from the attention of his piercing gaze. He also felt surprisingly cool for how warm out it was. You looked up at him and saw him raising his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe you. “I’m fine, really,” you added more convincingly. “Just my pride that’s wounded, I guess. But you stopped me in time. So, thank you.”

“It was no problem, darling,” he replied as you set off on the path again. “After all, I can’t have you getting hurt before you finish guessing, now can I?”

Again, you giggled, simultaneously loving and hating how he had that effect on you. “No, I guess not.”

“So, have you found whatever it is your looking for in my book?”

Glancing down at the page you had open, you saw it was the story of Rumpelstiltskin. How ironic. You tried to forge a connection between the book of fairytales and this man in your mind, but were coming up empty. Unless, of course, he was going to the source material for some reason, like he was preparing for a role.

“An actor!” you said, feeling sure you’d gotten it now. You’d definitely felt like you’d seen him on your TV screen before. Plus, he was definitely handsome enough for it. “That’s got to be it.”

“While I have appeared on television before, that is still incorrect, darling. One guess remaining.”

Oh how you wanted to wipe that smug yet ridiculously captivating grin from his face. Maybe with a kiss... Nope, no. That was ridiculous; you just met him. Besides, he was famous. Why on God’s green earth would he be interested in you as anything more than an entertaining encounter to pass the afternoon? So, you’d just have to do it with the right guess. You put your thinking cap on.

“Ok, well if you were on TV but aren’t an actor, maybe it was in an interview,” you thought out loud, gauging his reaction. You were excited, but also sad that your game was coming to a close. He’d surely leave after, whether you got it right or not. You supposed you could always try to look it up once you got home, if you couldn’t guess correctly. At least it would make for a fun story then. “I suppose there’s reality shows too, but that doesn’t quite seem your style. And, I guess you could be doing the interviewing—like a reporter or something—but that doesn’t sit quite right either. Sports! They televise sports. Plus I’m not really a fan, so I could believe I’ve heard of you but not totally recognize you. So, my final guess is athlete.”

“And you are certain that is your final guess?” He had a wonderful poker face and gave away nothing as to whether or not it was right. “Last chance to turn back.”

You appraised him, thinking he looked like he could be an athlete. And maybe it was some reverse psychology, trying to get you to abandon the correct guess. You didn’t really have any better ideas, anyway.

“Yes?”

“So sorry, but that is incorrect. And you are regretfully out of guesses, darling.”

“Of course it's not,” you sighed. He seemed genuinely saddened by how dismayed you seemed, so you perked up. “It was fun, though. So I, uh, I guess I won’t hold you up any longer.”

“You are correct; this was quite fun. Unfortunately, I do have another arrangement to get to,” he said in a way that made you believe he was actually upset over it. “How about that sketch that started this all, though? That one you made of me?”

“What of it?” you asked.

“May I buy it off of you?”

Your mouth formed a surprised little circle. “I mean, you can honestly have it for free. It is an unsolicited picture of you, after all. I wouldn’t feel right accepting your money for it.”

“Nonsense, I am only offering a small amount, anyway. Say, the price of a cup of coffee?”

You smiled at your feet as you caught onto what he was saying. It made your insides feel fuzzy. Maybe you wouldn’t accept, though. After all, you still didn’t know who he was. But if you were to go on a date, then certainly he would tell you.

“Sure,” you agreed. “I would love that.”

You tore out the sketch and handed it to him. In exchange, he gave you his card and said to call him to set a time and place. You glanced down at the small paper in your hands, not yet reading it. By the time you looked back up, he was already gone. With your handsome stranger nowhere to be found, you went to actually read his information. Unable to contain your surprise, not to mention shock at how foolish you were, you gasped, and your jaw hung open.

Gold writing on a green card held the secret you’d been trying to find the answer to all afternoon. Of course he was an Avenger, a hero. You ran your fingers over his name, a small smile forming on your lips. You quickly punched the contact into your phone and headed off in the direction of your apartment.

“Well, I’m glad this isn’t goodbye, Loki Laufeyson,” you mused to yourself, relishing in the way his name rolled off your tongue. “I’ll see you soon.”

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #mcu loki #loki fluff #fluff #mcu fluff #marvel fluff #reader insert #gender netural reader #marvel #mcu #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction #loki fanfic #mcu reader insert #loki friggason #loki friggason x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki oneshot #marvel oneshot #loki x y/n

[monsterfuneral]

sparks in the rain | bill and ted | ch. 2

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Coming Soon

Relationship: Poly!Bill and Ted x Fem!Reader

Summary: A malfunction with the booth lands Bill and Ted into the most peculiar situation they’ve been in, stuck in the year 2021 standing in front of a woman they never thought they’d meet. 

Words: 1.5

Warnings/Tags: nothing

Author’s Note: After like actually outlining this a little more, I think this story will end up being one of my favorites I’ve written.

REQUESTS OPEN | MASTERLIST

(please read my “I do NOT write” section before sending in anything <3)

---

This was the most unusual day for both Bill and Ted. Sure they had experienced mishaps with the booth, and sure they had also met people that they vaguely knew about. But they had never met someone that knew about them. Especially when it came to an on screen babe like Armageddon Lady, who had totally been Bill’s biggest crush for a majority of his teenage years. Not that he’d admit that to anyone other than Ted though. And here she was in the weirdest of coincidences, standing right in front of them. 

“What?” Ted asked dumbly as he heard the girl in front of them blurt their names. His brain struggled to keep up with the situation. 

“Dude she totally knows who we are somehow!” Bill said with an almost starstruck look on his face, his eyes sparkling in amazement. 

You stayed silent though, staring at them like a deer in the headlights. Your mouth agape as you, like Ted, tried to process what you was going on. While running into celebrities in the middle of your apartment complex was one thing that would never happen, seeing two movie characters that you liked standing just seven feet away from you was next to impossible… No it was impossible. 

You had to be dreaming still. A very vivid dream where you were going to the crafts store to pick up a new set of markers, before suddenly running into Bill and Ted of all people... In a dream. There was literally no other logical explanation. 

“Woah, you look like you’re going to hurl, Miss. Armageddon Lady, dude- babe.” Bill stumbled on his words like a nervous child talking to his first crush. Which honestly wasn’t far from the truth. 

“I- This isn’t real.” You concluded, finally removing your hand from inside of your purse and straightening your back. You were almost tempted to just turn around and walk back into your apartment, but you didn’t. Instead you thought over the jumbled words Bill had said to you, something sticking out more than anything else. “Why do you keep calling me that?” You asked, your brows drawing together as you looked at the blonde for answers who looked at you with widened eyes. 

Ted suddenly remembered something Rufus had told them not too long ago, alternative universes and whatnot, where things are different from their world but can also connect somehow. He talked about how sometimes the booth can malfunction and send them rocking into another circuit without them even noticing. That’s probably how they ended up here! 

“Bill... I don’t think we’re in our world anymore.” Ted chimed before Bill could even attempt to come up with a sufficient answer that would satisfy you. 

“What?” Bill asked, looking up at Ted. 

“Yeah! Remember the thing Rufus told us a few months back?” 

“Don’t over-tighten the guitar strings because they could break?” Bill answered, bringing up an entirely different conversation they had with Rufus. 

Ted shook his head looking behind his shoulder and to the still sparking booth “No dude! The whole alternate dimension thingy.” 

“OH YEAH!” 

You watched the both of them converse, your own brain still trying to catch up with the bizarre situation, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream. You tried pinching your arm a few times, at least testing it out to see if that trick even worked, but you were still standing in the same place right in front of them. It was all so much to process at once and so early in the day, even though it may have been 11am, it was still too much. 

“So you really didn’t put in the wrong number then.” 

“I told you so Bill!” 

They paused, smiling at each other before both shouting “Excellent!” in unison before air guitaring. The action was all too familiar but unfortunately missed the overlapping guitar that would play when they did it. Both boys stared at each other for a second afterwards, beaming smiles still ontheir faces. Their stare lasted a beat longer than you were used to seeing on screen. 

A shiver wracked through your body, the jacket you had not shielding you from the cold that the rain brought like you had hoped it would. You clutched your arms, pulling them a little tighter to your chest. It only continued to solidify the fact that this was probably real and not a dream at all, like you had thought. I mean, sure you had considered the possibility of fictional universes being real, who hasn’t? But it was just a theory you played into half-heartedly but never considered it to actually be true. 

A hand waved in front of your face, jolting from your deep train of thought where everything you previously thought was impossible could be and it was just too much. Reality as you knew it was both expanding and collapsing all at the same time. 

“You good, other dimension babe?” Bill asked, a small smile on his face as you stared at him with wide eyes.

Ted tilted his head as he watched you curiously. Sure you looked like Armageddon Lady and her actress, but you were neither, you just looked like them. He had an easier time accepting this as a reality than you did though, already having his experience with the impossible. But you looked like you were about to explode from the overload of information. He felt sympathetic. He thought back to a conversation he had with Rufus a year after their first time traveling in the booth, remembering how Rufus told him how he had seen others cope with the discovery of time travel, how some people just could not handle the information and it literally drove them to insanity. Ted would feel like such a dick if that happened to you, even if he didn’t know you. 

“I-” You started, abruptly stopping as you tried to piece your words together “I think so?” You clutched the strap to your purse a little harder, blunt nails digging into the leather slightly “This is all just… A lot to process.” 

“That’s okay!” Ted reassured softly with a wide grin, his hair falling in front of his eyes slightly as he nodded and looked down at Bill who was also nodding along. 

Your fingers were starting to feel numb and you shifted on your feet for the first time since you were stopped in your tracks. Your knees felt stiff from not moving for so long and you were shaking a lot more than you thought, the cold starting to deep into your bones and making your teeth chatter. You were sure they weren’t feeling any better as they were both wearing short sleeved shirts, and Bill was wearing a crop top. 

“I know you guys don’t know me but it’s freezing out here and it’s supposed to get colder.” You said looking back at your apartment door, trying to draw your coat closer around you “Would you like to come inside? I can make some coffee-” You watched Bill pull a face at the mention of the bitter beverage “Or some hot chocolate, up to you.” 

“Sounds great.” Ted answered, glancing behind him once more at the booth before back at you, “Lead the way!” 

The warmth of your apartment was more welcoming than the quickly dropping temperature outside. The rain clouds had left the sky dark and your living room was close to being pitch black. You carefully maneuvered past the couch and over the bean bags that were carelessly strewn across the floor in front of the TV stand. You felt for the pull-chain underneath the lamp shade, the black tassels tickling against your forearm. Finally your fingers grasped around the thin chain, gently yanking it and letting the light finally fill most of the room. The large leg lamp glowed on the small table tucked in the corner of your living room. A lovely gag gift you had been rewarded on christmas a year or two before at a friend’s party. While A Christmas Story was very much an overplayed movie on the holiday’s and certainly not your favorite, you still enjoyed the gift. Finding it pretty cool that someone had gone through the effort of getting something like this as the winner’s gift.

“Woah...” One of the boy’s muttered from behind your couch. You turned around and gave them a small smile, walking over to the other side of the living room to turn on the other lamp so the room was fully lit up and you weren’t going to trip over your own feet by accident. 

“Pretty neat huh?” You asked, always finding people’s reactions to the infamous lamp rather funny.

They both looked at you simultaneously, their eyes sparkling in wonder.

“You’re so cool…” Ted whispered. 

You let out a quiet laugh, trying to push down the heat that had suddenly started to rise up your neck, to your cheeks, and finally finishing at your ears. Never in your life did you think you could be receiving praise from Ted Theodore Logan himself. This really felt like it was too good to be true. 

“Thanks.” You replied, turning your back to them so they didn’t catch on to your flustered state. “So, how about that hot chocolate?” You asked, walking over to the white cabinet that held your collection of mugs.

#bill bnt #ted bnt #bill and ted #bill s preston x reader #bill s preston imagine #bill s preston esquire #ted theodore logan x reader #ted theodore logan imagine #ted theodore logan #bnt imagine #bnt x reader #monster writes

[wings-of-a-storm]

I have a question. My favorite character is obviously Benji, but this season I started to get an ultimate rancidity of him.In the end I understood why he was acting like this, he has a PTSD because of dating Derek, his parents shitting him and alcohol and the accident. It's about the accident I wanted to know about, I didn't quite understand what this accident was and why he started drinking. I get upset that Benji's story is the least explored in the series, in my opinion, it should be explored more

Sorry for late reply to this, Anon! I know a few others already replied to this but I figure I’d still add my take into the mix for you. :)

I think many of us share your frustrations about Benji’s story being drip fed to us instead of being looked at more deeply. It’s a very interesting history so I really hope that in season three we might actually get a more decent look at it…

BENJI’S HISTORY / WHY HE STARTED DRINKING:

Throughout both seasons we learn that Benji has struggled with mental health.

In the most simplest of summaries: Benji struggled with internalised homophobia -- he hated himself for being homosexual and fought against it. He even experimented sexually with girls (which he briefly mentioned in S1), but in the end, he couldn’t deny that he was gay. But acknowledging he was gay and being able to accept it are two different things. He hated being gay.

In order to cope with that self-hatred and fear, he turned to alcohol to dull his reality and in turn everything he felt. He’s still learning to like himself even now in season two.

In Benji’s own words: “Before I came out, I was kind of a mess. I knew I was gay but I didn't want to be. So I drank. A lot. (1x07)” And: “Coming out was really hard for me, Victor. And it is still hard for me to be who I am. (1x05)”

BENJI’S CAR ACCIDENT:

Benji said that when he was younger, he drank 'a lot'. From that statement alone we can infer that he knew he was drinking more than his peers were. Most likely that went beyond social drinking -- he was probably also drinking by himself at any opportunity.

There is an age limit for drinking for good reason: our brains don’t fully develop until we are in our twenties, and as such, when we are younger we are more likely to make riskier choices. Adding alcohol into the mix is just asking for trouble -- as Benji found out when, one night, severely inebriated, he lost control of his vehicle (or misjudged his surroundings) and drove through/into a building. “One night I got super wasted and decided that I wanted Wendys real bad. So I took my Dad's car to the drive thru and that's exactly what I did -- drove through the Wendys. (1x07)”

That is some serious stuff right there! On so many levels!

Firstly the physical toll: he ‘totalled’ his dad’s car. To have a car written off as too smashed to be driven, that car had a huge impact! And not surprising since Benji said he drove through the building. Whether that was through glass or a into a sturdy wall, to crunch up the metal of his car, that is a massive hit. We don’t know the extent of his injuries (he just said he was ‘banged up’) but we do know that he was at the very least knocked unconscious and/or had a head injury from it (“Waking up in the hospital with my parents standing over me…” 1x07).

Secondly, the emotional toll: when Benji gained consciousness and woke up in hospital, he said he “realised that I could have died." (1x07) That is a very frightening thing to confront -- your mortality. It spooked him enough that it was the catalyst for his Coming Out. He didn’t want to die without “ever really being who I was” (1x07); to have only lived his life as a lie and not known his true self…

Most of us, I’d wager, haven’t had to confront our mortality at such a young age -- like truly confront it after going through a life-threatening experience. In that sense, he is on a different level to his peers and Victor -- a big part of his innocence has been broken and re-formed.

There is more to the emotional toll though -- not explicitly mentioned in canon but pretty much common sense:

The pain of recovery in hospital and at home (whatever “banged up” means, he was injured in some way)

The guilt of knowing his actions could have caused innocent people to have been hurt or killed. No one was hurt, he said, but just knowing they could have been is a really heavy thing to have on your conscience.

The stress of dealing with insurance (for the Wendys, for the car). He would have had to burden his parents with sorting that all out.

Police would have been involved to investigate the incident and lay charges. That’s pretty darn scary.

Losing his licence and thus part of his independence

Seeing the physical damage of the Wendys if he ever went past it again -- knowing he had done it, knowing he had been in the car that made that damage and reliving the knowledge he could have killed himself…

He was so ashamed by it all, he didn’t want anyone at school knowing about the accident or about his drinking that caused it. In 1x07 the school still didn’t know so he really guarded that secret hard.

There’s just so much heaviness linked to that accident. And Benji has only had one year to process all of that. On some level, that stuff has got to linger.

THE INITIAL AFTERMATH:

We learn that after the car accident, Benji was in an ever worse state of mind than when he was drinking his life away before it. His mother reveals: “After your car accident last year you were so hard on yourself and things were pretty dark for a while there. And you decided to put in the hard work [to go to AA and get better]. (2x07)”

Referring to Benji's post-accident self as being in 'a pretty dark place' is a pretty big alarm bell. His mental health sounds like it was pretty much destroyed. It is so hard to rebuild yourself after falling into such a dark well, but over the year he must have pulled himself back from the brink. That is so, so heavy!

It’s hard to gauge whether Benji chose to go to AA himself (which seems to be implied), or whether it was a condition of his charge through the police, but he went there none-the-less to change his life and learn healthier coping mechanisms to handle stress/his inner conflicts.

Something else worth noting is that, timeline-wise (as messy as that always is in LV), Benji was dating Derek through all of this. His one year anniversary with Derek was in S1 but his one year sobriety was only in S2. Who knows how that would have complicated things. He wasn’t Out to his parents or anyone but he was dating a (adult) man. So he was simultaneously hating that he was gay and drinking his mind blank but still dating a man. That is a super stressful and conflicting dichotomy that he was dealing with in amongst all this… (“It is still hard for me to be who I am.” 1x05)

THE MOST IMPORTANT INSIGHT FROM BENJI’S DRINKING AND AA:

It is so important to take time and realise what being in AA means about Benji: as a young teen, Benji self-medicated his way through his worsening mental health by drinking to handle stress and internalised homophobia. He didn’t have any proper methods of handling stressful situations. He is now having to unlearn those behaviours and learn new strategies through AA and his sponsor. But he has only been doing that for one year! That is a blip of time in the hourglass.

Now let’s look at the events of S2: Benji has been inundated with stress while still learning how to cope with it without drinking. And he’s had to learn and practise these new coping strategies while:

Being in high school

Holding down an assistant manager job

Watching his significant other being emotionally wrung out by his mother’s treatment of him; dealing with his own rejection and banishment from Isabel

Reliving both his own coming out stress and homophobic aggressions at school directed this time at his significant other

Trying to deal with the shame of being in AA and keeping that a secret from all of his peers at school

Like far out, that is a ton of stress! Anyone would crack under all of that, let alone a young and recovering alcoholic!

So yes, when faced with stressful situations, Benji is not always going to react in the right way or say the right things. He’s still learning how to do that with his sponsor and AA meetings. He might come off as ‘rancid’ in S2, but really he is just a kid who is struggling and trying to do his best.

#LV ask #Love Victor #LV S2 analysis #Benji Campbell

[tartagilicious]

snezhnaya does not believe in broken hearts > childe

→ pov: there is no pov i’m in love with another fictional man. I’m a little rusty writing wise because of school, but someone said childe enemies to lovers and who i am i to say no to that 🥴 so, here’s his boss battle with a ✨twist✨

→ ib: this comic on twt, pls go support it i love it and cry whenever someone mentions it. also, like the comic, childe’s delusion form won’t have a mask just so it’s easier to write his expressions!

→ *there are a good amount of lines that are taken directly from his battle in the game, so beware of detailed spoilers!

You can trust him. But, don’t get too involved. The battle he pursues is dangerous; it’s not something a normal person can withstand.

Whether you realised it or not, every moment you had spent with him began to carve out a hole in your chest, bittersweetly wearing away every layer of protection you had unconsciously built up. It wasn’t a well-done job by any means; the edges it left were particularly jagged, but the softness Childe still managed to pull from them left you stunned every time it chose to peek its head out.

“Don’t be so on edge, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

It suddenly became a daily routine to expect him at some point, whether it entailed him coming upon you doing a commission in the middle of the mountains, or you crossing paths in Liyue while some type of street food balanced precariously in his grip.

Yet, what you failed to notice was that most times, he would take care to place another of the same delicacy into your hand, as if expecting to see you. Childe would meet you in the middle of the mountains not by chance, but rather by a sense of curious boredom, wherein your company was the only suitable way to pass the time.

Subsequently, the only question remaining in a scenario such as this, was what the other meant to each of them — were you truly able to push your obligations aside, or were you only getting close enough to have enough leverage to strike?

On any occasion a disarming laugh left his mouth, or he lent you his support without question, you failed to remember that you were pitched as enemies in the first place. You inevitably no longer felt the same wariness towards the harbinger over time, but it only made you that much more guilty to know just how easily you had begun to trust him.

Yet no matter the hopeful sentiments your sputtering heart provided you, you knew one thing to be true that would always remain so: you would never be on the same side.

“You’ve already fulfilled your task as guide, so why do you still linger here? Haven’t you already seen enough trouble for today?”

You had entered the Golden House apprehensively, perhaps hoping even over the Exuvia’s safety that you wouldn’t meet him there. But coming upon it and hearing the one voice you had been dreading, you begrudgingly came to terms with the fact that you would have to face reality eventually.

“Huh?” Paimon is startled by the sudden disembodied voice. “Who’s there?!”

Childe reveals himself by coming up the stairs you had just now ascended, his saunter maddeningly casual. “If you were Fatui, I imagine that you would be entitled to a generous reward from the Tsaritsa yourself.”

The way he tilts his head with such fake amiability grates across you like nails on a chalkboard. “But now you’re nothing but dross -- and you’re in my way.”

“It looks like I was just in time, then.”

Childe laughs. “Although I’m deeply grateful to you for helping me so effortlessly find this secret location… don’t you think that trying to stop me now would only be a wasted effort?”

“Stopping the mora mints, hiding away the Exuvia,” He laughs again, and your hand instinctively makes a small stretch for your weapon. “And sending you. The Qixing are really pulling out all the stops this time.”

“So you were planning to take the gnosis all along?” You ask flatly, your words swallowed by your own hesitation just after you’d barely gotten out the last word. Even though this mishap wasn’t very detectable, shame burns the back of your throat at the honesty of the reflex.

“As one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, it’s my duty to see the will of the Tsaritsa fulfilled. And she will get which she desires.”

You shake your head, fully grounding your hand and preparing to draw your sword. “Not if I don’t allow you to get near the Exuvia.”

“I’m not looking for your blessing, ___.” Childe narrows his eyes and takes note of this action, the implications of it drawing up a wanton sense of disappointment he had long been expecting. This varies little from your own dismay, unbeknownst to him. “There’s nothing you could do to stop me anyways.”

“The time for discussion and diplomacy has already long passed. I mean, if it were up to me, I would have skipped that stage to begin with… but, I’m willing to do as the Tsaritsa deems fit.”

“Either way,” An eyebrow arches as an equally intrigued smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “It seems we’re now coming upon my favourite part --  a simple pleasure, and one that I am oh-so delighted to be sharing with you.”

it’s as if a pin drops, and he grins. “The battle.”

You now stand at a fork. Two paths stare at you with expectant eyes, both equally enticing; but the drawbacks of the indulgent solution unfortunately long outweigh those of their obvious counterpart. It’s a decision that must be made on behalf of Liyue, not the hurt of a single heart.

Paimon scoffs, drawing you from your thoughts. “So you’re the type that goes looking for trouble, huh?”

Childe’s laughter rings out, and he throws his head back as if he had heard something particularly funny. “I guess you could say that!”

“When Signora offended the deities outside of the cathedral in Mondstadt, she swiftly left the scene once her mission was accomplished. Instead of confronting you directly, she chose to rely on the snow and ice to make an escape.”

“I would take that as far more than its face value. When she faces a worthy opponent, she will prioritise her mission, weigh the outcomes, and consider the consequences of her actions…” He explains, trailing off with an inexplicable smile. “But as for me, the greatest pleasure of being a harbinger lies in the opportunities I have to cross blades with such opponents.”

“That doesn’t mean we’ll let what happened in Mondstadt ever happen again.”

“Oh? So you do intend to fight me? Good.” Childe’s excitement baffles you and pumps adrenaline into your veins simultaneously. “I won’t kill you, ___, I’ll just play along. To feel the thrill of battle!”

“Besides,” He puts his hands out in an aimless gesture. “You could never defeat me, not even in your wildest dreams. But hey, try to relish in the fight anyways, because if you ask me… without that, what else is there?”

“I could never defeat you?!” His words get the better of you and you laugh in disbelief. “You’re completely delusional.”

He returns the laugh delightedly, igniting a fire of mixed emotions in your chest. “Fighting talk, I love it! Now, let’s see you live up to it.”

You draw your sword at the drop of his last word, taking a step back in preparation for what was to come. Childe, meanwhile, stands watching you with a brewing sensation of glee.

“This chance isn’t easy to come by, so show me all you’ve got.” Arrows infused with water begin to fly in your direction, though you avoid them in haste. “So very few ever get the chance to square off with a Fatui Harbinger, so come now, amuse me. And don’t you dare disappoint.”

You find yourself gritting your teeth at the arrogant words, taken aback at his challenging tone. “You say your colleague has found me praiseworthy, but tell me to only amuse you? That’s a disappointing downgrade.”

A lapse in the time Childe has to shoot gives you enough time to approach him, throwing out a strike of your sword that he catches with his own weapon moulded by water.

“It’s by no means an insult, ___, I’m merely proposing a challenge.” He looks at the way your blades grit against each other and grins. “And it seems you’ve accepted it.” You jump back with the force of his attack to propel yourself. A barrage of geo-aligned magic is summoned beneath your opponent with a stomp to the marble floor.

However, he sidesteps it in a similar fashion, and through a quick exchange of harsh blows, both of you stand back to scope things out. Still, the one aspect that continues to overshadow the rest of your thoughts is the way that Childe’s personality has changed under the scrutiny of battle.

The playful tone he normally sports is long gone, now replaced with a deeper and more realistic one; perhaps even slightly more menacing. It’s as if he’s been flipped into a completely different person.

He laughs maniacally as he uses his hydro vision to drive waves of water out towards you, fully intent on at least knocking you off your feet. The burst of elemental energy ends when Childe leaps back onto the ground. This gives you the leverage you need to go in with another geo attack, this time catching him off guard and launching him to the side.

Childe coughs at the force of the action, his lips curving up into a smile. “Good! No wonder signora was so wary of you.”

His body is encased in an impenetrable bubble of water in an instant, a flash of deep light lashing out from the centre before revealing Childe once again. His swords of water have since been infused by electro energy, and his clothes are darker -- the most noticeable difference, however, is the Fatui mask that had previously been slung over his hair now laid properly over his face.

“Well, that just means I can go all out! Brace yourself, this is about to get tough…” He takes a few preliminary steps. “Show me what you can do against the might of a Harbinger!”

The strikes do indeed get faster. Childe toughens up against seemingly every one of your attacks, dodging most if not all of with even more ease than before. you grit your teeth as you rush to keep up with the frequent blows thrown at you. But, in a panic and reflexive drawback, you retract your sword and desperately block with your arm instead.

Silence entraps the incredibly large room as your sword clatters noisily to the floor. Both the cloth running up the expanse of your arm and wrist piece are slashed considerably, all to reveal a shallow but long gash.

The sensation of electro wastes little time in taking effect, burning up your arm and inducing an inevitable cry of pain as both of you take a step back. Malleable emotion hangs in the heavy atmosphere, waiting to be addressed or otherwise plucked down from their higher place.

Though, his reaction in that split second shows that he might not be just as lost as you’d thought.

Childe has little courage to speak up on any of these topics, but in whatever way he chooses to ignore the berating voice in his head, he can’t push away the sensation of regret swimming in his chest. Watching your face briefly contort in pain you try so hard to hide, yet standing close and being unable to do anything about it -- it’s more real than any understating word his brain could ever feed him.

“What are you doing just standing there?” You suddenly taunt, your voice slightly hoarse as you turn to hide the blood that seeps into your clothing. “I thought you said that you were going to go all out.”

Childe knows that you're right. He had said that, but what would it mean for him to continue? Brawling with you brought the same drunkening high of adrenaline he’s been chasing since he escaped from the abyss all those years ago-- although hurting you wasn’t any sort of intention he’d ever had.

“...I’m only offering a moment to buffer, but I must say -- you’re not bad. Your swordsmanship is quite impressive.” Childe desperately swallows back anything extra that pops into his head and twirls his electrified staff. Personal desires are the last thing he can afford to pay attention to. “But, that’s about as far as you’ll get.”

You sloppily intercept a rough attack that threatens to send you flying backwards, gritting your teeth as you push back with the force of your Anemo power. It goes well for all but the way your arm begins to falter under the stress. Your head naturally follows your body’s trajectory, yet in your panic, the stroke your toed boot makes across the floor leaves a trail of blistering geo behind.

The elements present react immediately, resulting in a blinding explosion. You’re thrown off too quickly and land unsteadily, pain shooting up your arm as you exhale shakily -- you’d never had the misfortune of experiencing a hydro and electro vision working together before now.

“___, are you okay?” Paimon asks frantically, your tiny hands trying their best to locate the heart of the wound on your injured arm. “That cut looks deep, do you really think it’s a good idea to keep pushing yourself?”

You shake your head in dismissal as your eyes move with the clearing dust. “It’s fine, but my sword--?”

Once the haze disperses, you spot your sword almost instantly -- however, you also find Childe’s staff sticking haphazardly into the marble floor right next to it, its owner nowhere to be found.

A laugh sounds from behind you. “I really didn’t think you had that card hidden up your sleeve!”

Your heart drops into your stomach when you whip around to see Childe standing beside Rex Lapis’ corpse, his grin wide like he’d already won the match between you.

“You were just playing us to get close to the Exuvia!”

“Oh, quiet down. Don’t be so quick to judge. You’ve seen this world, you of all people should know...” Childe steadily gathers a ball of electro energy in his palm, the lightning fusing around his gloved hand before materialising. “That this should have been expected!”

The sound is deafening as Childe forces his hand into the Exuvia, opposing elements colliding and responding in turn. “I’ll be taking Morax’s gnosis now!”

Shockwaves come out like tides as the entire room shakes under the pressure of the single action. You’re quick to shield your injured arm from the battering wind, while Paimon latches onto the ornament covering your elbow.

Yet, much to everyone’s surprise, the hand that emerges and unfolds under the glaring light is very much empty.

Childe is taken aback by the particles of light that float from his gloved hand, laughing in frustration as well as bewilderment. “I see. Well, this is most unexpected.”

He turns to look at you through his mask, taking in the equally as surprised expression that moulds your features. But the detail that begins to surface ignites a different, and entirely real type of irritation in him, is the way that your eyes begin to change.

“Morax’s gnosis is far from another old antique,” Ningguang had prefaced this when you had visited her in the Jade Chamber, her words stable and forward. “It is a sign of Liyue’s reigning power, and also a symbol for the people to look towards; as not only a god, but also the keeper of peace. This is not something that would be hidden carelessly.”

“Many people throughout my years as a Qixing have tried to outsmart the layers close to the gnosis, however, none have succeeded. Its protector is someone of utmost secrecy whose identity I must not reveal, not even to you.”

She had sighed, placing a warm yet distant smile on her face. “But, I believe this method will continue to deter unwanted hands, along with you in their capable stead.”

Your eyes widen as you take an instinctual step back. You’d found it nearly impossible when tasked with feeding the Harbinger outdated details, though your heart feels heavy in realising that it had gone to show how much Childe truly did learn to trust you.

But, it had worked, hadn’t it? Because of this, the exuvia was somewhere far away -- in capable hands, as Ningguang had phrased it. Yet you feel little want to celebrate this small victory, immediately reminded of the situation it’s caused as Childe’s vision flares up around him, warping his figure in your eyes.

“You… You beat me to it, didn’t you?” Childe doesn’t miss your sense of victory being quickly replaced by fear, but in a fit of irritation, he takes no time in disregarding it.

He leaps haphazardly into the centre of the room, forcing you to careen out of the way as his electro vision fries the air around you. It becomes stuffy and unbearably hot in the enclosed space entirely too quickly. But, throughout the sudden drastic change in their atmosphere, you can’t help but notice the second transformation that Childe has gone through; yet rather this time, it’s much more drastic.

Once the air dissipates, Childe leaps back to the floor once again, his heavy military boots marking his step indefinitely. The attire he wears is fittingly close to armour -- presenting a deep blue and purple suit that fits like a second skin.

“Not a bad trick,” His spear of water that had since been lodged in the marble floor flies into his hand, twirling to rest on his shoulder as his voice stabilises. “But, this is going to cost you!”

The same weapon is pushed into the ground with overflowing destructive power. It quickly runs veins out like web beneath your feet, electro charge roughly and abruptly breaking the floor to reveal another space below.

You're dragged down indiscriminately amongst the falling debris, roughly colliding with the sharp edges before hitting the ground once again. Your arm, still slightly bleeding and swollen, screams at the harsh impact. Though having landed on your stomach meant that other parts of your body had absorbed most of the shock, natural reflexes had forced you to receive some of the heavier damage in your arm regardless.

There wasn’t a lot that you could do about this, however, other than pick yourself up again and hope that Childe was still too high up to see your pain clearly. Thankfully, lo and behold, a purple light just then begins to descend almost hauntingly through the smoke. It blinks out briefly before revealing Childe again as every messy part of the room is blown away by an incredible elemental power.

You hold up your uninjured arm to combat against the strong wind, wincing as your body is forced back.

“You got to the gnosis ahead of me, didn’t you?” Childe’s staff finally rests in his hand, however, the aura he gives off alone is enough to make you antsy. “Did you simply move faster? Or… did you leak the information regarding the Golden House to me on purpose?”

“...You’ve outsmarted me, ___. But that doesn’t mean the information won’t be in my hands by the time we’re done.” Another electric current fills the room as he moves to make an attack. “So, fight hard knowing there's something of such value on the line.”

Your eyes flicker around the room for your sword as you say, “How do you know that I have any of the information you need? That’s betting a lot on nothing.”

He laughs, the familiar sound chilling.

“You don’t have to be omnipotent to take a best guess. Besides, I’m confident enough in knowing that you’re smart enough to play me, so a battle between friends to determine that isn’t too much of a stretch, is it?”

You spot the sword and take a hesitant step towards it, attempting to return his words as a distraction. “It’s strange to call me a friend and threaten to put a knife in my chest in the same sentence. I thought you said that you weren’t going to kill me?”

Childe pauses, debating his next words carefully. “...Conditions are ever-changing.”

“If they were going to change so drastically, you should have told me earlier. Maybe then I could’ve figured out how to explain something I don’t know the answer to.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, ___.” His delusion’s deeper tone makes even the most playful of his words sound threatening. You stand your ground, though, knowing that no matter what your apprehension presents, nothing will change the fact that your weapon is only a mere step away.

“I know that you can tell me.”

You know I can? The supposedly comforting statement bounces around in your head, creating a ringing in your ears and a painful drumming against your temples. It’s not that simple, you think. There's little he wouldn’t be able to get from you if gone about the right way, however, as long as the information remained important, it would stay unattainable to even him.

You grit your teeth, feet twisting boldly into a position that’ll make it easier to leap in the direction you need. “I won’t tell you anything,” The leap is short and filled with almost too much strength, but you make up for any shortcomings by turning to block the incredibly close blow Childe had thrust out to stop you.

You push your sword against his with the force of all of your irritation, jaw clenched as your words come out in a single breath. “Because I know that I don’t have anything to say to the person that betrayed me.”

Unsurprisingly, words like those are some of the last that Childe wants to hear at that moment. No amount of guilt tripping or humiliation was typically enough to get to him, however, your simple declaration hits him in a spot that he’s long tried to bury.

Childe scoffs, pretending that he hadn’t blatantly hesitated. “You’re not fit to be here if you’re shaken by the betrayal of someone like me. Take it from me and give up while you’re ahead.”

You’re stunned by Childe’s brutal words for a brief moment, leaving him an important window to more easily knock your weapon away, out of your weakened hands. His blade meets your throat with little hesitation, the cool water stinging against your overheated skin.

Childe’s eyes wander to the way your body turns slightly to protect your injured arm, and disregarding the way his stomach twists, he shakes his head. “What’s wrong, ___? The way you are now won’t be able to defeat me.”

He looks at the way you hesitate and the already putrid feeling in his gut turns rotting. You make no more effort to fight back despite your strength, nor move the weapon lying firmly right over one of your weakest points.

“I might end up killing you if you don’t tell me where the gnosis is.” Childe tries to push you further, but is taken aback when your brows knit as if frustrated. You know very well that he’s someone with bad intentions, yet why do you continue to yearn to see the good in him? To see the carefree person you’d known before today?

You don’t respond, unmoving beneath his heavy gaze for all but the way your hands begin to slowly hover up towards the sword pressuring your neck.

Why can’t you stop?

Your shaking hands take the blade lightly in your grip, the vision-adjacent water searing your battered skin. A droplet of sweat slides down your cheek yet all you can focus on is the way Childe’s eyes instantly delve into panic.

“If you’re going to kill me, you should hurry up and save us both the suffering.”

The sudden powerful statement sounds unreal coming from such a weakened person, blood running down your fingers as you force his sword away.

“What makes you think that your death would cause me any harm?” Childe’s heart thumps wildly beneath his clothes as he lets his weapon be redirectioned, but his brows furrow. “I used you. Do you have yet to realise that?”

“You think I’m so inept that I would believe in someone so fast?” Your fingers go to nestle in the fabric of your skirt, the clothing acting as a temporary shield from the pain. “It was no secret that you weren’t someone to be trusted.”

“Then why lead me here if you’re so confident in yourself? Surely you don’t think that picking a fight with me was a sound idea?”

“You came here yourself. I was never looking to fight.” You mumble truthfully, taking your hand away from your skirt to reveal your palms stained with blood. “...I only said what I did because I don't like hurting those I care about.”

Childe stands paralysed in shock upon hearing such honest words, his mouth opening and closing as he rushes to process their meaning. What could he possibly say to that?

You hadn’t left a single mark on him despite believing that you were fighting for your life, whereas he had prioritised outside matters over listening to his internal backlash -- he had hurt you in a simple twisted warning.

“___, you--”

He’s barely able to get a sentence out before you sigh, going up to him with little hope before wrapping your arms around him.

Childe exhales unsteadily, his weapons then evaporating as his torso and arms instinctively straighten up. Moments of complete stillness go by unhindered. But, you wait patiently for any type of response from the man in your arms.

“...___.” He finally mumbles this from above your head, voice incredibly soft. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You’re at a loss as for how to respond, because truthfully -- the answer is mostly lost even to you. All you can do is drown in the silence that you’ve created, heart picking out the worst parts of the way his posture stays tense.

Childe groans abruptly, his delusion slowly beginning to break down to reveal his normal clothes. “Come on,”

As if something restricting him had suddenly been removed, he staggers and sinks to his knees, body going limp at the sudden lapse in support of his vision. Though fortunately, you follow him even while he goes down.

Your arms struggle to support the sudden weight as his chin lulls forward, colliding with your shoulder just as your knees hit the floor. He’s not entirely weak, you think, noticing the way he purposely tries to shift a lot of pressure off of you. Though you don’t know much about his delusion, it seems viable to assume that the form had just exhausted a decent amount of energy.

You feel the heat of his hands hesitantly coming upon your sides, but much to your disappointment, they quickly retract before he mumbles, “You’re a fool.”

“I know.” You whisper. “But, it’s too late. I can’t give up on you now.”

Childe scoffs, the sound muffled by your shoulder as he brings his arms up around you. He embraces you so tightly that it’s as if you’ve struck something inside him.

Those words are so unfair, they almost give me hope.

#hey I’m only like 75% satisfied with this but content is content baby #genshin impact #genshin impact childe #genshin impact tartaglia #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #chilumi #yall thought you got rid of me huh #I’m here to spam writings within the next week to the best of my ability and there’s nothing you can do to stop me >:D

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Two Bros Chilling in A Hot Tub/Lightning Struck

Summary: Freed knew he had a lot to learn about being a professional wizard, and when he was paired up with Laxus for a mission he expected to learn a lot. He didn't expect to spend a day with him in a hot tub, and he certainly didn't expect to get an entirely unrelated education about life and about love.

Notes: Hello everyone, happy Fraxus Week. For the two bonus days, I've murged the prmopts together to make a two-shot. The second chapter will be uploaded on July the 22nd. I hope you all enjoy it, and head over to @fuckyeahfraxus to see all the other content for the event.

Links: Chapter Two ||| Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

Chapter One

Year: X782

Location: Magnolia, Fiore

Professional Wizardry was still new to Freed. He hadn't wandered into the profession without the expectation that he'd be forced to do things that previously would have been unthinkable, or that his life wouldn't change entirely the moment he had joined a guild, but he felt like he was learning a new aspect to his profession every day. His expectations of the job and the reality of the job was almost entirely different, and Freed found himself enjoying the challenge.

He'd thought he'd be on missions near constantly. He'd go to some place in Fiore, use his magic to fight off a monster or dark wizard, and get paid for it. He hadn't expected there to be a community attached to it, that they'd be such a rigid tier system of missions, and how missions could be anything from finding a lost item, to being on a team attempting to disband a cult. There was so much more, and it was all fascinating.

After his eighteenth birthday three months prior, the jobs that he was allowed to accept had greatly opened up. They were more difficult, presented him with a greater threat to his life, and he was relishing the challenge. He could have gone on those missions earlier, but he much preferred working alone. While he was accepting that being in Fairy Tail meant there was a certain level of comradery with fellow guildmates, and that with that comradery there also came obligations, he didn't see the point in splitting his finances with others while he was powerful enough to perform these missions on his own and take home all the money himself.

The exception to this was Laxus Dreyar.

Master Makarov had approached Freed on his birthday with a proposition. He was worried for his grandson, wanted someone to look after him, and wondered if Freed would mind occasionally attending missions with him. He claimed that, while officially the money would be split between them, Makarov himself would make up the difference for Freed so that he would be paid in full. Freed had agreed, and that had been that.

Up until that afternoon, Freed had not gone on any missions with Laxus. They'd hardly spoken, even with Makarov's assurances that they'd get along. Freed would only be on certain missions and that afternoon's mission was apparently one of them. Makarov told Laxus Freed needed training in more advanced missions, and that he should be the one to do it. Laxus hadn't argued.

Somehow, while attending to a supposedly A-Class mission, they found themselves in Magnolia's hot spring and spa resort.

It was surveillance, so the mission stated. The Rune Army themselves had place the job, stating that they believed that members of a potential dark guild were using the site to host meetings and plan attacks. The resort had been trying to get rid of the suspects but couldn't do so without putting their staff in danger, and having an army presence suddenly appearing would tip the dark guild off and give them time to hide all evidence. The Rune Army wanted mages from Magnolia who could plausibly be in the spa for leisure time, but could also defend themselves from attack, to watch them for suspicious activity. Freed had a feeling that Laxus had taken the job to have a day relaxing in a spa, rather than because he felt the Rune Army needed the help.

None of this would have been a problem for Freed – he'd long since accepted that what constituted a job was a wide array of things – if it weren't for the elephant in the room. Or to be more precise, the Adonis wearing nothing but swimming trunks in the room.

Freed was a professional, but he was also eighteen years old and in the presence of an undeniably handsome man. Nobody, no matter their opinions on Laxus, would state that he was anything but sexy. Tall, blonde, square jawed, barrel chested with a scar over his eye and a tattoo over his pecs. His abs looked to be cut from steel and his legs comparable to tree trunks and, well, Freed was only human. Laxus was distracting.

"So," Laxus suddenly spoke as he slung a towel over his shoulder. "I don't exactly know what Gramps wants you to learn from this, but I'll try and teach ya some shit. Surveillance rule number one: fit in with yer surroundings. You seem pretty good at that."

It was only a moment, but Laxus' assessing gaze over Freed's body was exhilarating. But unprofessional.

Laxus didn't seem to notice, and instead started to walk out of the locker room they'd both changed in, and towards the area where they were meant to be watching. Freed followed, making sure to look straight ahead, rather than give into temptation to check out the man's back and his ass, and it wasn't a difficult task. While Freed had no qualms admitting his attraction to the blonde, he knew where his focus needed to be put. The mission was important, not his hormonal desire for his guildmate.

"That's the door we need to watch," Laxus said as he tilted his head to the door. Freed knew that of course, but Laxus was speaking again before he could say anything. "Pretty open room, lots of vantage points. Where should we go?"

Ah, it was a test then. Good, a worthy distraction and hopefully it would nip any ideas that Freed was in some way Laxus' inferior in the bud. Freed looked around the room quickly, glanced towards the door that they needed to keep in their sights, and quickly made a plan of how the rest of the day would go. Strategy was his strong suit.

"The hot tub," He said firmly. "At least for now."

"Why only for now?" Laxus asked. There was no condensation in his tone, he was simply asking for Freed's reasoning.

"Staying in the same place throughout the afternoon would be suspicious. We know who the suspects are, but that doesn't mean they're the only people involved, so we need to look like regular customers constantly," Freed explained, speaking quietly as they walked further into the room. "As we've only just got here, it makes sense for us to use a facility instantly. Going to sit by the pool or at the juice bar would be odd, at least for now. The massage tables and spa treatments are too distracting, but the hot tub allows us to sit and watch without anyone questioning it. It'll give us the lay of the land without drawing any attention on us."

"And we both have to do it?" Laxus probed. "Wouldn't it make more sense to split up and cover more ground.

"Later," Freed dismissed. "We came in together; we'll need to do things at the same time at least once in a while. As I said, the treatments are distracting and as such we should do them one at a time rather than simultaneously. If we spend the whole day apart after we've arrived together, it'll raise suspicion. The hot tub is a good vantage point, and so a good way to be seen together while not losing an advantage."

Laxus thought for a moment, before nodding, clasping Freed on the bare shoulder, and giving him the smallest of grins. "Yer good at this."

"Of course I am," Freed retorted, and that seemed to make Laxus grin wider.

They walked towards the hot tub, which was at the back wall, attached to the main pool. As it was a Tuesday afternoon, only a few people were loitering around the resort and the hot tub was empty. Freed placed his towel on the handle provided and walked into the hot tub, soaking his entire body sans his head in the hot, bubbling water. His muscles relaxed instantly, and he felt himself slinking down ever so slightly.

"You ain't here to relax," Laxus said in a voice almost teasing as he climbed the stairs into the tub. "Eyes on the mission, remember."

Freed went to point out that, given Laxus was looking at him rather than at the door, he was just as distracted. But Laxus chose that moment to sit down, submerging his chest in water and spreading his arms wide. His left hand was close to Freed's shoulder, and Freed felt that it was an act of great resilience that he didn't give into base urges and watch Laxus as he adjusted to his relaxed, wet – very very wet – state.

"I will if you will," Freed eventually said back, looking towards the door. He missed how Laxus' gaze lingered on his body just a little too long.

They fell into silence, and Freed made a genuine effort to keep his gaze away from the man who shared the hot tub with him. He truly hadn't thought this through. He hadn't realised that, as good as Laxus looked from afar, he looked better up-close. Maybe he should have denied the request to join the mission. And maybe he should have worn a looser swimsuit…

"So," Laxus said after a while, looking up at the ceiling for a moment to crack his neck. "How much is the old man paying you to spy on me?"

Freed halted, and removed his eyes from the door and looked towards Laxus. His face only, of course. "Excuse me."

"Rule two, you gotta trust the guys you're working with. So don't bullshit yer team members," Laxus said with a little grin. "Answer the question."

"For every mission that I do with you, he'll cover all the money you take from it, so I'm fully paid," Freed explained. He saw no point in lying.

"Guess we're gonna be doing some well-paying missions together then, if we wanna bleed the old bastard dry," Laxus smirked, and it was an oddly alluring look on the man. Freed looked away from it, and towards the door again. "You gonna tell him that I'm onto him?"

"I'd rather keep the deal up, I can get good money doing this," Freed shrugged, and he saw Laxus grinning a little from the corner of his eye. He tried not to pay attention to the expression, and instead focused on a man who could fit the description of a suspect. The man walked past the door, but that didn't mean he wasn't who they were looking for. "Why did you agree to this if you knew your grandfather wants reports on you?"

"Because it's gonna happen anyway, might as well accept it," Laxus shrugged. "I knew he was gonna get someone to do it, kinda glad that it's you."

"Why?"

"Because yer interesting," Laxus said, looking up at the ceiling again and closing his eyes as he lowered himself deeper into the water. Freed's gaze flickered low on the man's abs for a moment before looking to the door again. "We get a hell of a lot of mages joining Fairy Tail. Lots of people who think they're tough shit and wanna become the next powerhouse. Yer the only person I think whose got a chance of actually doing it."

The compliment was flattering. Laxus had something of a reputation for being generally rude and selfish, and either they were exaggerated or Laxus was making an exception. Freed felt it was a combination of both, but he accepted the compliment without complaint.

"You know my magic?" He asked.

"I've been keeping tabs on you since you came here, yer interesting," Laxus nodded, wading a hand through the water absently and sending ripples through the bubbles. "People give the darker magics a lot of shit. They're idiots. You can kick ass, and you're not bad to be around. Pretty much the opposite of a Fairy Tail mage right now."

"Does that opinion extend to you?"

"What d'you think?" Laxus asked with a cocky expression that Freed found himself enjoying.

"I wouldn't be here if I thought you weak."

"Good."

They fell into a silence, with the bubbling water warming Freed and making his muscles loose and relaxed. He kept a steady gaze on the door, making sure to avert his eyes when someone walked into the room, so his staring wasn't too obvious. It was a worthy distraction, and one well needed now that Laxus had apparently been watching him for all of eight months. That, combined with the fact that Laxus was wearing swimming trunks and was less than five feet away, could all become rather an issue if Freed didn't focus on anything else.

"Okay, your turn to relax now," Laxus said, cutting through Freed's thoughts. His voice was a little more relaxed. "You can't stay lookin' at the door all day. You'll get a crick in the neck."

"I'll be fine," Freed dismissed.

"Doesn't matter," Laxus stated, shifting slightly to get closer to Freed. It was to get a better view of the door, but the body heat that rivalled the warmth of the water was a noticeable feeling and Freed tensed. "Rule Three: lean on yer teammates. Sometimes you'll need to slack off, that ain't something to fight against. So long as someone in the team is on full alert it isn't too bad a problem. So sit back, close yer eyes, and let me take over for a while."

Freed was hesitant, but Laxus was clearly taking over keeping his gaze on the door, and Freed eventually found himself sliding down to further cover his body in water, and closed his eyes as relaxation flowed through him.

When his mind began to slip, Freed found himself thinking that Laxus was actually rather helpful. Freed wasn't quite so arrogant to think he knew everything about wizarding work, and an S-Class mage would have things to teach. Laxus especially would be useful to learn from, given their apparently similarities in working styles. Freed would need to learn how to work in a team, even if it wasn't fond of the idea, and Laxus might know how to offer actual advice rather than pointless mantras like 'your team should be your family' and other nonsense he'd heard from Fairy Tail. Without lying about why he was there, his team-ups with Laxus might be mutually beneficial.

Perhaps relaxing wasn't too bad an idea, either. Freed's mind had been somewhat consumed by his work. Finding a place to live as a seventeen-year-old had been difficult, and he'd put in a lot of effort in getting rent on time. But now he got better paying jobs, that urgency could fall away a little.

With a bit of effort, he tried to push the fact he was on a job to the back of his mind.

Once this whole thing was dealt with, maybe he would invest in a pass for the resort. In his preliminary research for the mission, he'd heard good things about the facilities, and even though he'd only been in the hot tub as of yet, he felt inclined to agree.

Though perhaps Laxus' company was partially to blame for his mood.

Fairy Tail had sometimes felt like a lonely place. Their focus on friendship, family and their revoltingly sentimental ideas about goodness were nice in principle, but when you were on the outside looking in it could get under your skin. Freed knew he was at fault for his lack of relationships with his guildmates, but perhaps Laxus might be a good starting point. Ironic, given that nearly everyone had told him Laxus was off-putting and rude.

The bubbles sent a pleasant chill over him, and Freed felt his tenseness ebbing away. When he got a pass for the resort, he'd have to explore the idea of a massage. He'd never thought it appealing, but perhaps he could be convinced.

There wouldn't be much convincing needed if Laxus were the one massaging him.

"Shit," Laxus hissed, and Freed's eyes whipped open. A rush of panic filled him that somehow he might have said that aloud, but the idea was ridiculous. He looked to Laxus to see worry flickering over him. "The suspect saw me looking, I think he went to get backup."

"Are you sure?" Freed asked, mind suddenly back on focus again.

"No, but we made eye contact. He's suspicious of me," Laxus was clenching his teeth, seemingly annoyed at himself. "We can't fuck it up, the Rune Army don't take shit like this lightly. We need a distraction or to get out."

"A distraction will be easier," Freed concluded. "Does he know for sure that we're looking out for him?"

"I wasn't being careful. I was watching him for about a full minute without being subtle. Pretty sure he knows it's not a passing glance."

"But that doesn't mean you know what he's doing, it just means you were looking at him," Freed mused aloud. "What if we throw him off the scent, give him another reason for why you were so focused on him."

"The hell would that be?" Laxus growled a little, and Freed scanned the room. They were the only two people in there now.

"Maybe you wanted him gone," Freed thought, plans forming in his head. Many of them he had to dismiss outright. "Perhaps if he sees something he wasn't meant to see, he'll think you were looking at him because you wanted him to leave."

"What the hell would I wanna do that I wouldn't want him seeing?" Laxus snapped, agitation rising. An idea came to Freed. It was good, it would get them out of the situation no doubt, but it might have a few repercussions in the future. Many arguments both for and against it flung through his mind, and his indecision must have been obvious, as Laxus continued talking a moment later. "Rule four, if a mission's going to shit and you think you can salvage it, you do it. So if you've got any ideas, I'd love to hear them."

Freed went to open his mouth to explain his idea, but he heard movement from across the room and glanced towards the door. It was opening, and two more suspects were walking through it, stone-faced and angry.

Before he could second guess himself, he launched himself onto Laxus and began to kiss him.

It was a sloppy, energetic, and passionate kiss. Laxus was frozen for a few moments, but Freed forced himself to push on in the hope that Laxus was trying to understand what was happening. Laxus quickly started to kiss back, and a hand ran down Freed's back, pulling him close. Freed began to mess his hands through Laxus' hair, heart pounding and a ringing in his ears cutting through his panic. He couldn't think of how bad an idea this was, about how there were probably hundreds of other ways to deal with this, because rumours stated that the dark mages were powerful, and he didn't want to get into a fight he could avoid.

Kissing wasn't enough for his plan. People kissed all the time. They needed to get… intimate. Freed began to run his hands over Laxus' torso – damn was he strong – and he felt large hands groping at his ass in return. He gasped into the kiss, and forced himself to remember that it was just for the mission.

The sound of a door closing snapped him back to reality, and he glanced to the side without breaking the kiss to see the suspects had left. He pulled himself off of Laxus, to find he'd been dragged so he was straddling the man's thigh at some point, and turned away with a blush, panting quietly.

"Good plan," Laxus said, voice also breathless. "Think it threw them off."

"Yes," Freed agreed. He couldn't look towards Laxus now. He simply couldn't. "I'm sorry for doing-"

"Don't, you did what you had to do," Laxus cut him off, voice somewhat stern, which wasn't helping the situation. "I would've done the same if I thought of it, and you fixed my fuck up. So no complaints."

"Okay," Freed didn't feel any better. He stood up and reached for his towel, still not looking at Laxus. "I think I should sit at the juice bar for a while, we've been together for long enough."

"Wait," Laxus began, shifting slightly but Freed was climbing from the hot tub before he could reach for him. "This ain't- you don't have to leave on my account."

"I'm not," Freed lied. Because of course he was. Laxus might be straight, he might not like Freed, and he might not appreciate being kissed like that at random. "If we spend all out time in the hot tub, it'll look odd. It was overdue, more so now they've seen us."

Laxus looked ready to argue, but sighed and nodded. Freed walked towards the juice bar, fighting the urge to touch his lips. Electricity danced over them.

Kissing Laxus… it felt like being struck by lightning.

#Fraxus Week #Fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Two-Shot #Chapter One #canon divergence #Word Count: 3.5k

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

Okay, what are your thoughts on Ian's relationships? With his family, his boyfriends, and Mandy (since I think that's the only friend he's had)

Oh, no. Ohhhhhhhh, no. Now you’ve done it. You’ve asked about my dear, darling favorite character on the show. My love for one Ian Gallagher runs deep, which means this answer is going to run super long. The good, the bad, and everything in between—Ian Gallagher lives rent free in my brain and always will. I derive so much satisfaction from seeing Ian interact with other people, in whatever capacity that might be. I admire and aspire to the compassion he has shown for others over the years, even and perhaps most especially those who arguably haven’t earned it. He tries so hard to be good to people, and seeing their love for him manifest when he’s reached such lows where he can’t even fathom why the love of his life would want to be with him forever? That’s powerful.

So, yeah. I said I could write essays on these characters, and that’s exactly what you’re about to get: five hours and 6k words’ worth of my thoughts. (I am so sorry. There will be text walls.)

Let’s dive into Ian’s many and multifaceted relationships—his family, his friends, and his romantic pursuits.

Ian and Family

Ian told us where he stood on this in the very first season, and it set the standard for his character for eleven years to come. Faced with a prospect that others in his position could only dream of—not being Frank’s son and having a wealthy father with a functional, prosperous lifestyle mere miles away—Ian refused to buy into it. He refused to do what might have been objectively better for his future by seeking a relationship with Clayton. In that household, he would have had access to a better public school, more financial resources, a tutor to help him where he was struggling, and less urgency for him to work so that he could enjoy being a kid. When he got sick, he would have had access to better healthcare, too. Perhaps he would have had a better shot at West Point from that background than he did at home. But that’s just it: home was with his family, and he was very clear that they didn’t live in that nice house. All he wanted—all he wanted—was to be with his brothers and sisters. He has never referred to them as only half-siblings or half-cousins; he has never even used the words, “you’re not my dad,” on Frank. That’s his family, the people he loves most in the world, and he’s always been at his best when he’s with them and at his worst when he’s not. Let’s look at each of them:

1.      Frank: It is so striking to me that Ian doesn’t appear to hold the outright contempt for Frank that Fiona, Lip, and Debbie have exhibited at different points over the years. Aside from the handful of instances where they’ve gotten into physical altercations (which Frank always initiated) and kicking him out of the house on occasion, Ian is simply indifferent to him. But there are these moments, these brief glimmers of mutual attachment and loyalty, if those are the right words. In the scene where Ian famously doesn’t count to three before using the pepper spray on him, Frank starts saying how his New Gallaghers weren’t his real kids—that Ian is his real son, and Frank is his real father. It’s a passing thought uttered while trying to manipulate his way into the house that neither of them think much of, nor does the audience…until you remember that biologically, Frank isn’t his father, and he certainly hasn’t behaved like one either. Ian has more right than anyone to comment on that, but he doesn’t because Frank is his father. He’s the father that Ian idly hoped wouldn’t come to his wedding yet sat joking about with Debbie rather than getting pissed off that he was making out with some lady in front of everyone. He’s the father who sat at the table with them eating breakfast in 11x03 and claimed Mickey was the man in their relationship without Ian saying a word to him about it, and who Ian saw no issue with taking Franny to school when no one else could. In s4, as far removed from his family as he’d been for a while, Ian still went straight to the hospital when he heard that Frank was at death’s door. We focus so much on his attitude towards Monica because of how obvious it was that we frequently miss these tiny moments and their implications. It would take an awful lot of patience, compassion, and love not to write Frank off completely after all he’s done. Not necessarily our standard definition of love between a son and his father, perhaps, but a loving soul.

2.      Monica: I have actually written a pretty lengthy post about his relationship with her because while their shared mental illness definitely plays a role in his feelings toward her, that grew complicated far earlier than his diagnosis. The first time we meet her, we see that he has a visceral reaction to news of her presence. He runs. When Ian can’t process strong emotions, that’s what he’s done in the past. I happened upon an interview Cameron did just after the end of s1 where he mentioned something I had already been thinking: Ian’s age when Monica left is extremely important. He was a kid in s1, but one who could roll with the punches, sometimes literally. She left them two years before that. Ian would have been in middle school, roughly as old as Debbie was when she still called Frank “daddy” and forgave him for everything he did. It’s an awkward age that once again set Ian in something of a danger zone—too old to accept an excuse or no explanation at all, but not old enough to process the situation in a healthy way. And then she’s back all of a sudden with no warning. Ian doesn’t cry like Debbie, and he doesn’t typically get explosively angry like Fiona. He can’t deal, so he runs. He hangs back. He only speaks when he has to and compartmentalizes: Monica wants to take Liam, and they need to stop her. It doesn’t have to be about her leaving. They have a goal—he can focus on that. And then she’s back a year later, saying she’s here to stay while Fiona seems to take her at her word and Lip isn’t there to ground everyone. Ian tries so hard to behave like Lip would with his biting sarcasm and attempts to stay emotionally distant in a way that seemed pretty exaggerated for Ian, but he’s also dealing with a fresh wave of guilt over Mickey going to juvie—and Monica gets it. She’s the only person to acknowledge that he’s in pain and actively try to make it better. She’s the only one who really knows at the time, but that hardly matters. This poor kid, whose mother left him when he still needed her, has her standing in front of him and saying she’s sorry and listening when he speaks and taking him dancing—just the two of them. Embarrassing as it was and harmful as it could have been, she tried to facilitate his dreams when no one else wanted him to go into the military. She was there for him when he went AWOL. She came for him when he was arrested and even wanted to make a place for him in her new life, unrealistic as it was. This goes so much deeper than them both being bipolar. Ian’s comment about her parachuting into their lives in s7 wasn’t about Mickey or her role in them breaking up. He trusted her. He wanted her. He needed her. And she’d convinced him that she would be there—until she left. Over and over again. She was there for him and unintentionally took advantage of how desperately he still needed his mother. She made him keep loving her, and that’s both a blessing that has him crying into a voluminous man’s arms when she passes and a curse that wrecked him more than once.

3.      Fiona: The trust these two have for each other cannot be understated. Fiona has discussed things with Ian that she never brought up around any of the other kids throughout the entire series. In the pilot episode, she tells him about feeling needed and takes his opinion on the matter to heart. At the end of the season, he’s the one she talks to about the car because she can trust him to give her an answer even without speaking. In s2, she tells Lip that the two of them are her rocks, and we see that time and time again. That’s part of what makes their falling out over the church hit that much harder: it’s Ian and Fiona. The only time they’d been on the outs in any serious manner up to that point was when Ian was adjusting to his new reality and they were trying to find a balance between sister and caretaker. Otherwise, that bond of trust had never been severed—not until Ian literally sold himself only for it to amount to nothing in the end because she had no idea the lengths to which he’d gone to get that building. That damage gets mended, thankfully, but what a powerful period of time when those two were the only ones who’d never really been at each other’s throats. There is a downside to that trust, though. As I mentioned before, Ian was so responsible and put together when he was younger that Fiona didn’t think twice about his situation with Ned or that he ran away. Not even seventeen yet, and she was telling Debbie that she didn’t like his decision to leave but trusted him. That is one of the things I love about this show—even something like trust that we always prop up as an important factor in our relationships can betray us in the most unexpected ways.

4.      Lip: I won’t go into it here, but the relationship they share is something that means a lot to me on a personal level. It’s part of how I knew that Ian would become my favorite character pretty early on. The way he simultaneously admires and envies Lip, loves and is annoyed by him, relies on him and is desperate to pave his own path in the world—what a beautiful and accurate depiction of what it means to be a younger sibling. Lip is the first person to discover that he’s gay and openly accept him for it. (I think what he tried with Karen came from a well-meaning place even if it was horribly, horribly misguided.) Lip is the one who tries to get him into West Point, hate it as he does. He helps Ian when Terry is after him, takes care of him in the aftermath of the wedding when he realizes just how deeply Ian feels for Mickey, searches the whole damn city for him when he finds out that Ian is in trouble, gets him a job, leans on him in his own time of need… He’s not perfect. He slips up, just like Ian does. Some things break my heart, like Lip insisting that he’s earned his own space when his little brother is asking him for safe harbor or Ian thanking him for being his brother outside the prison. But they love each other so much, and I just… I can’t possibly put into words how much I love their dynamic.

5.      Debbie, Carl, and Liam: I’m grouping these three together because they’re further separated from Ian in age, so we see a lot of the same trends with them as a whole. Ian loves taking care of people. We know this. We also know that Fiona and Lip don’t typically want him taking care of them—they’re the ones who take care of him when he needs it, specifically Lip. With the younger three, however, Ian can be the Big Brother. He can shake his head in utter bafflement at Debbie’s obsession with holding her breath for two minutes, walk Carl through what he needs to go camping, and promise his baby brother postcards when he leaves. The difference here is that his relationship with them is so much less fraught with conflict. We don’t see him fight with Debbie, Carl, or Liam the way he has with Fiona or Lip. While Ian tends to be the voice of reason during conflicts overall, I think it’s also because he relies on his older siblings in a way that he doesn’t with his younger siblings, and the latter don’t tend to rely on him as much as Fiona or Lip as well. There’s a lack of tension in most of their interactions growing up because that pressure isn’t there. Perhaps this is where Ian’s age and standing in the family is a bit more beneficial: young enough to have people he can rely on while too young for anyone to really rely on him for more than his share of the squirrel fund.

Ian and Friends

I’ve seen it mentioned that Ian (and Mickey) not having more friends is bad or lazy writing. I tend to believe that that fails to take something into account that, admittedly, most of us don’t really have to think about: having friends is a luxury. It requires time and effort to cultivate friendships, especially lasting ones. As a kid, Ian spent a lot of his free time working or helping to manage one family crisis after another. Going AWOL, losing his health, struggling to acclimate to his illness, trying to find a new career path, spiraling into the Gay Jesus movement, going to prison, adjusting once again to normal life, getting married, a pandemic… I’m sure he’s had plenty of acquaintances over the years, but having a family to support and constant upheavals would have made it extremely difficult to really forge strong relationships with them. I think that’s part of what makes his relationship with Mandy so special and valuable to him: she’s sort of the same way.

When we met Mandy in s1, she had other friends. We saw her meet up with them and go shopping; she told Ian a story about how one was mad at her for not sharing her make-up. As the trauma in the Milkovich household reached its zenith for her in s2 and she started thinking seriously about getting out of there, we saw those friends fall by the wayside—all except Ian. He saw her and let her see him early on. That’s a level of trust and respect that nobody else in their neighborhood would have displayed, certainly not to her. But then there’s this guy who defended her against their creepy, perverted teacher and treated her like a human being, not an object. It’s no wonder she developed an obvious, unrequited crush and sought physical comfort from him occasionally. It’s no wonder she tried to repay the favor by giving Mickey a hard time in s3 and s4, misguided and rather uninformed as we know it was at the time. (It’s also no wonder that she went for the closest Gallagher to Ian, either, but that’s for another meta.)

And Ian… Ian is loyal to a fault. We have watched Ian cut out his own heart and let the blood drip down his arm to pool on the floor at his feet if it would make a damn bit of difference for the people he loves. Like Fiona and Lip, Mandy immediately accepted him for who he is and suggested an arrangement that would protect him as well as benefit her. That is enormous where they came from. To him, that had to feel like the ultimate sign of friendship: he could trust her with a part of him that he hadn’t even entrusted to most of his family yet. From that point on, she was on the List of People Ian Gallagher Would Do Anything For. Finding out about Terry and what had happened? He held a bake sale, of all things, to fundraise for her. Seeing that his brother—his best friend—was treating her like garbage? He put him in his place. Her boyfriend was beating her? He brought her home and made it his goal to find a safe place for her to stay, even if it ultimately didn’t work. She was going to move away from all of her meager support with that boyfriend? He didn’t just rally his own arguments—he brought in outside help with Lip, who he thought might tip the scales. It’s usually just a saying that true friends will help each other hide a body, but Ian literally tried to do that. Lucky for him, he has a good head on his shoulders and used it.

No, Ian doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends. We’ve seen that he has spheres of influence, if you will, and acquaintances that he can call upon when he needs them. (For example, the guys that helped with the preacher.) However, Ian has always struck me as a “quality over quantity” type of person. Being a soldier or an EMT isn’t lucrative, but they’re meaningful for someone who sees them as vehicles for helping people. Seeing more parts of the world than just Chicago has appealed to him in the past, but he seems perfectly content to carve out a spot for himself right here at home. Having only three best friends—Lip, Mandy, and Mickey—doesn’t seem like much of a hardship for him.

Ian and Romantic Pursuits

I hate to say that there were five, but from Ian’s perspective, there were. So, let’s talk about all five. Even though…there weren’t five. There was only one. We’ll save the best for last.

1.      Kash: The first of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. I hope it goes without saying that I hate this man with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I hate him so much. However, their interactions taught me a whole lot about how kind and compassionate Ian really is—and how naïve. Of course, he would believe that Kash loved him. The man was buying him all sorts of expensive gifts, and that’s what we see on all the commercials and in so many movies, isn’t it? Grand gestures of affection through expensive gifts. Poor as they were, Ian still scraped together the money to buy him baseball tickets and CDs, convinced as he was that that was all part of what you did in a relationship. That desire to do things like a “normal” married couple in s11? Yeah, that starts here. Ian has always been a planner, and he’s always bought into certain stereotypes. We can see that here. What we can also see is Ian’s compassionate, kind, loving soul. He cares so deeply for other people, even ones that he doesn’t know very well, especially if they are living in circumstances that mean something to him. (For example, the mentally ill woman they tried to help at work and the shelter kids whose situations were so similar to Mickey’s.) Kash being a closeted gay man living in misery with a wife he didn’t love and two children he never meant to have clearly tugged at Ian’s heartstrings. Even after everything that happens, even though Ian behaves as though they’re awkward exes who just happen to work together, he still covers for Kash. He gives him that head start and takes it upon himself to break the news to Linda that he’s gone. He defends Kash to Lip when the latter finally says exactly what we all know: he was a pedophile who deserved to rot in prison for what he did. As with Fiona’s trust, Ian’s loving soul, compassionate heart, and desire for love outside his siblings are virtues that have done him harm in the past. This is one such instance.

2.      Ned: The second of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. To be honest, I don’t believe that Ian would even characterize it that way. He seemed very aware that Ned was a distraction from his problems—from Mickey being in juvie, Monica falling into a depressive episode, the money in the squirrel fund being gone, Lip moving out, losing his shot at West Point, and getting denied for service due to his age. Again, though, Ian has always wanted to feel valued, and this rich dude was letting him stay in a fancy hotel room with anything he wanted readily available. This (disgusting predator) guy was giving him attention and a distraction with no strings attached. Then the complications roll in, and he’s once again faced with being the mistress to a closeted, married man. The difference here is that he’s not comfortable with it. He tries to tell Fiona twice, which is enormous for Ian when he has never been very good at communicating if it means burdening others with or even merely facing his own problems. But he tries to tell her. He rejects the GPS unit and tells Ned that he has a boyfriend, boxing him into a strictly sexual arrangement. (This, unfortunately, makes sense. It aligns with how Fiona viewed things: where Jimmy was concerned about it, she told him that it was “just sex.”) He is also visibly embarrassed to admit to Lip and Fiona what has been going on with Ned. By that point, Ian is a year and a half older and, while still scarred and warped in his views because of Kash, perhaps a bit wiser. Emotionally, he kept Ned at arm’s length most of the time. He used Ned not just as a distraction, but as a way to galvanize Mickey into taking their relationship a step forward. But Ian is still Ian, and Ian is compassionate to a fault. Ned played that card by asking if he could have a little understanding for a man whose life was falling apart. Sure, he can. He’s Ian, the Gallagher too empathetic for his own good at times. We know how that spirals out of control. It just goes to show that even when Ian was trying to maintain some emotional distance, his heart is simply too big and his perceptions too heavily impacted by the grooming he’d experienced with two different people by then, and so he [SPOILER ALERT] still feels enough of a connection to Ned after all these years to be mildly bothered that he passed away.

3.      Caleb: The third of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Ian’s relationship with Caleb strikes me as being similar to what he had with Ned. While more age-appropriate, Ian was very much using Caleb, just as Caleb was using him. That’s why it was so easy for both of them to walk away. Ian was in a difficult spot when they met. He was grateful to the firefighters who saved his life, but he had also just saved someone else at a moment when he was perhaps at his absolute lowest. That’s what he’s always wanted, isn’t it—to be a bit of a hero and help people? So, he’s understandably drawn there, first out of gratitude and then to be surrounded by very attractive gay firemen who helped people, saved his life, and invited him to be part of a function they were holding. But he made himself pretty clear from the start: he was interested in sex with Caleb. That was the draw. He still hasn’t come to terms with being bipolar and losing Mickey, but Ian has never not been with anyone for any extended length of time. That’s just who he is: he’s always sought some level of outward validation—from the army, Kash, Monica, Mickey, and so many others. We’re seeing him struggle with that now as he deals with the opportunities available to him as a mentally ill ex-con felon. So, he pursues Caleb as a distraction just like he did with Ned, only Caleb is a predator in his own right and can smell that his interest is coming from a place of weakness. He immediately (and initially unintentionally) preys on Ian’s desperate need for structure and order by insisting on a traditional date where Ian is very much out of his element and even goes so far as to instruct Ian on how to be intimate. It’s no wonder he mentions Mickey in these moments, as Mickey never wanted him to change, and Ian leans heavily (even slightly hyperbolically) into the fact that Mickey wasn’t a paragon of order and stability like Caleb outwardly appears. 

And I think why Ian puts up with it so long—being taught like a child, being used to upset Caleb’s parents, being paraded in front of his friends to make them jealous—is because he was getting something out of it too, just like with Ned. A stable place to live when their home ownership was in flux, a place away from his family when they weren’t providing the support he needed as he adjusted to his disorder, someone who validated his desires to help people regardless of their ulterior motives, and a physical distraction from his own problems. All of these parallel his relationship with Ned very closely. It was never going to last, of course. Ian is a strong person who temporarily forgot how strong he was because he forgot who he was, and Caleb didn’t want to be cared for—he wanted a project, like all of his sculptures. Being a project, being something that others see as needing to be fixed? That’s a hard no for Ian. It always has been. There’s a moment I love later in their relationship where Caleb tells him to turn off the lights when he goes out and lightly reprimands him for leaving one on the day prior. Ian is in a better place at that point, having regained a lot of his sense of self, and stares after him with indignation at being treated like a kid. He’s then lied to and cheated on, but I think that to mention those things to Caleb when they break up is to admit weakness on his own part—that he stuck with Caleb knowing that he was being mistreated, and Ian is not one to be called a victim. So, while we know from his discussions with Lip and Sue that the cheating and distrust bothered him most, he merely focused on Caleb lying about his sexuality, which removed a lot of the emotion from the situation—just like he did with Ned. It ultimately turned out to be a bad move since Caleb, being a skilled predator, made him question even his own sexuality in return, but we’re starting to see that Ian isn’t here to be someone’s toy anymore. Not an older, married man like Ned, but definitely not anyone his age either. I’m glad this pseudo-relationship happened because it showed Ian how strong he really was and that he could be in control of his own life. Sure, it destabilized him a little in the aftermath, but he worked through it. He leaned on his family, specifically Lip, who has always been his rock without the blurred lines that Fiona represented between sister/mother-figure/caretaker. Caleb is a garbage person, but Ian was the one who pulled the treasure from the trash, not him.

4.      Trevor: The fourth of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Trevor is perhaps the first relationship where we don’t see Ian dive in. Whether that’s because of his confusion over Trevor’s gender identity or the fact that he was really beginning to fully mature as an adult by that point (ostensibly finishing his education, getting a career, being fully self-sufficient, etc.), he tried to take his time and not jump right in. They hung out, talked around the neighborhood, and yes, engaged in some casual intimacy at the club. Again, Ian might not be in a full relationship, but he’s never without someone for long. At that point in the series, all he was missing was a relationship when it comes to traditional, “normal” goals for people to have. But Trevor posed a situation he’s never been in before since, while gay himself, Ian has never been very interested in activism or engaging in the LGBT community. It’s just not in his culture or environment, so to be faced with someone he’s interested in that challenges a lot of his views of gender and sexuality is something he takes his time with. Unfortunately, Trevor is younger than him and not quite as mature, not quite as experienced. He tells Ian he has plenty of friends and doesn’t need another, which is an ultimatum that has never really sat very well with me personally because I’m generally of the mind that if a person needs time and you really care for them, you’ll let them have that time. I’m not unsympathetic to Trevor: he’s been burned before and has his own trauma stemming from responses to his identity, so it makes complete sense for him not to be patient in this regard. He shouldn’t have to be—but then, Ian shouldn’t have to rush into anything he’s not 100% certain he wants either. That’s exactly what he does, though, because Ian does for others without thinking of the implications for himself a lot of the time. They make great friends, but they don’t make great partners. Trevor treats Ian similarly to Caleb in that he’s a bit of a project. Trevor educates him on the LGBT community and incorporates him into his ventures for the shelter without ever really showing much interest in Ian’s life or family, which suits Ian just fine because for as interested as he is in helping with the shelter and as attracted to Trevor as he is, he seems to know they’re not compatible. Ian, who has been having sex since he was far too young, takes a step back from it when they run into compatibility issues. (And pushes back on the pressure to bottom with some of his own—neither of them were in the right on that.) He doesn’t ask much about Trevor’s family or try to be part of his personal life. They sort of embody the “friends with benefits” stereotype: they hang out, they have sex, and that’s really all there is to their relationship. 

The reason Ian doubles down on trying to make it work isn’t because there was a future for them before Mickey broke out. It’s because he thinks he’s lost Mickey forever, he knows he’s lost Monica forever, and he’s not going to get the support he needs from his family when they couldn’t stand Monica and Fiona told him what he already knew to be true, namely that Mickey being an escaped convict would destroy everything Ian worked so hard for if he got involved. So, he does what Ian does. He needs that distraction—he needs to run from these strong emotions he can’t process, so he bottles them up and unfairly hopes that Trevor will provide some of that comfort after cheating on him with Mickey. (Had Mickey been released, I think they would have broken up. Instead, that was the first match Ian lit, but certainly not the last.) Now, the thing is, Trevor said at the start that he didn’t want to be Ian’s friend. He’s also younger and less mature in a relationship, which means he threw the concept of love out there prematurely, just like Ian thought what he had with Kash was love. The death throes of their relationship were a back and forth where Ian was spiraling and seeking comfort, and Trevor was providing some while keeping their relationship pretty amorphous. (Were they exes? Were they friends? Were they people who shared interests and danced around each other? Were they going to get back together? They never officially broke up—it fizzled and resurged, then fizzled for good.) Ultimately, whatever it was that they had couldn’t survive Mickey, Monica, or Gay Jesus. Trevor wasn’t prepared to deal with a full-blown manic episode, and based on his hands-off approach with involving himself in Ian’s life even before the Mickey-shaped bomb got dropped on them, it doesn’t seem like he really wanted to anyway. He did what he’s always done: prioritized his shelter, which I’m not deriding in the slightest. By that point, Ian was too far gone to care that he disappeared anyway. Had the situation been different and he was getting the support from his family that he needed, it doesn’t seem like he would have cared much there either.

5.      Mickey: Finally. Only took over five thousand words to get here. I’ll preface this with something that anyone who knows me from other fandoms is already well aware of, namely that I don’t do romance. Ever. Never been interested. The relationships I’ve always been most passionately interested in are platonic ones, especially “found families” and siblings, which is probably obvious from the other five thousand words here. Ian and Mickey are the first relationship I’ve actively shipped or written for in a fandom. They’re the first I’ve been invested in to this extent. As such, one of the biggest pet peeves I had when I first joined this fandom was the saying, “Ian fell first, Mickey fell harder.” These two wonderful dumbasses face planted on the concrete in front of the Kash and Grab in s1 and never recovered. I could go on forever about these two, but that particular wall of text would probably be too daunting for even the most avid Gallavich stan to traverse, so I’ll keep it fairly brief. As we can see above, Ian has a very strict sense of what he “should” want in a partner. Someone who is moderately successful in their chosen field, makes enough money to at least live comfortably, and typically does something that helps other people (a doctor, a fireman, a youth counselor). These aren’t passionate people. They’re not men who operate on instinct the way most of the people in his life have always had to by virtue of their social standing. They have life goals and opportunities that he envies, and Ian has a great deal of compassion for them when they hit a roadblock or things don’t work out. The amazing dichotomy of Ian Gallagher is that he straddles a line most people can’t between the rough neighborhood that has instilled in him all of his values/behaviors and the middle-class mentality of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and aspiring to more. Ian has always aimed for what Lip said wasn’t possible for poor people: being successful without having to scam or steal. But as I said way back at the beginning of this manifesto, the South Side is his home. His family is his family. And none of the people he’s been with personify the South Side quite like Mickey—they don’t personify home like Mickey. 

And I think that’s where the initial draw for Ian is. (I’m going to focus on Ian’s side since he’s who your question focused on.) The other guys look great on paper, and Ian’s brain says that that’s what he should aim for. We know better, though. We know that Ian has an enormous heart that belongs first and foremost to his family and their home. His heart says that this person—this dirty, rude, mean, violent person—is home. His heart says this person is everything about himself that he denies having, just like Ian was everything about Mickey that the latter declined to openly acknowledge for so long. I don’t like relationships built on “making each other better.” I really don’t. The wonderful thing about this is that it’s never been that way. Ian didn’t change Mickey. He’s exactly who he’s always been, but he’s grown past the fear of his own emotions and Terry’s response to them. He’s still a thief, a con artist, violent, and rude. Mickey didn’t change Ian either. He’s still rigidly conforming to certain stereotypes of what he thinks he should want, seeking structure (to his own detriment at times), and not a great communicator. The point for them is that they complement each other, not that they make the other a better person—not even that they bring something out of each other that wasn’t already there. That’s what Ian’s other relationships did. They made him shave off his edges so that he could fit a square peg into a round hole, and that’s not happiness. It’s simply what he thought he was supposed to do—what “normal” people did. 

With Mickey, he doesn’t have to worry so much about what is normal or acceptable. He doesn’t have to worry about whether or not his life is objectively “on track,” not until fairly recently. Mickey is the only person he’s ever been with who has accepted him for who he is, faults and strengths alike, without the underlying insinuation that he should be aiming for something else or pretending to be whatever the other person needs him to be in order to care for them. Kash needed an escape—Ian provided it. Ned needed a very specific brand of toy—Ian played that role. Caleb needed a project to feel fulfilled—Ian went along with it for a bit. Trevor needed someone who accepted him as he was but did things his way—Ian did that. To care for Mickey has only ever meant being himself because all Mickey ever really needed was him. Mickey didn’t need an escape from his home—his relationship with his family is more complicated than that. Mickey didn’t need to be saved from his upbringing—it’s what made him the person Ian fell in love with and who he is happy to be. Mickey didn’t need someone to change who he is on a fundamental level because unless it is going to get him into trouble and separate them, Ian never wanted him to. (Even then, it’s about what he does, not who he is.) And yes, I’m sure that there’s a level of excitement that Ian finds exhilarating where Mickey is concerned, but I tend to believe it goes a lot deeper than that. What he finds exciting about Mickey is what Mickey embodies about the South Side—about home. About his own upbringing, but also Ian’s. About Frank and Monica, his siblings, school, work, ROTC—existing and surviving in an environment where it’s not guaranteed that you’ll have money to keep the heat on this winter or feed your family. They spent the early seasons living in a constant state of fight or flight. They couldn’t afford not to. And there’s excitement in that. Look at how many people say that the first seasons are their favorite! There hasn’t been a huge shift in the quality or direction of the writing, just the trajectory of the characters. They’ve gotten older, and their problems have been different. It’s not about survival so much of the time anymore, but those are the storylines that excite us. For Ian, that exhilaration in the constant battle of survival in their neighborhood is sewn into the fiber of his being just like it is Mickey’s. He saw his home in Mickey before they truly fell in love, and when that followed, Mickey became home.

In Conclusion

Ian has spent his entire life looking for the “right” path only to realize that it was laid before him: his family, his small circle of friends, and Mickey. I love that that is coming full circle this season, where [SPOILER ALERT] marriage has almost made him regress a bit to that place where there must be a right way of doing things going forward, and slowly but surely, we’re seeing him loosen up.

Good morning. It’s Ian Gallagher loving hours.

#shameless #ian gallagher #it's ian gallagher loving hours #shameless meta #well that took six hours #and I didn't get more writing done #but I feel accomplished

[northlight14]

Not so alone after all

After a lot of enbyphobic comments are made in Virgils class, zie retreat to the bathroom to have a panic attack. Zie is then found by a student who is able to help zim though it.

TW: enbyphobia, internalized enbyphobia, panic attacks, cursing

 Ships: analogical (platonic or romantic)

Virgil wandered into zir biology lesson, already ready for it to be over. Zie didn’t exactly hate the lesson but it was second last period and zie sat with enough assholes to make the lesson unbearable. At this point, Virgil just really wanted to go home.

 Virgil took zir seat and silently waited for the lesson to start as the other students came pouring in, speaking loudly over each other as they did so. The teacher, Miss Richie, did the register and then got on with todays topic: DNA. Virgil half paid attention as the teacher went on.

 Eventually, Miss Richie started talking about chromosomes. “There are only 2 combinations of chromosomes, XX and XY. Your chromosomes are the thing that determine your gender.” That bit really pissed Virgil off. Zie got that this was high school biology and things have to be massively simplified but that was just straight-up incorrect, on multiple levels. There were so many other types of chromosome combinations and even if there weren’t, chromosomes have never dictated gender. Heck, they sometimes didn’t even dictate the persons biological sex! Zie considered for a moment saying something, but zir anxiety decided against it.

 A boy sitting in the back of the class raised his hand “Miss, what about trans people and all that?” Virgil suddenly felt uneasy. Zie knew all too well the opinions of zir classmates and this conversation could only lead to a bad road.

 “Well, trans people can have surgeries to change their outward appearance but the chromosomes can’t be changed.” Miss Richie answered simply. Virgil prayed that would be the end of it. Zie had only recently been able to admit to zirself that zie’s genderqueer and the idea of telling anyone else made zim feel like all the air had been knocked out of zir lungs. Virgil also knew that zie had a long way to go towards self-acceptance. That means that any ignorant comments would be made without the knowledge that they were talking about someone in room (not like that ever-stopped ignorant teens before) and zie definitely didn’t have the confidence to not be affected by whatever was said.

 All zie could do was hope the universe would leave zim alone this once. But, of course, the universe just couldn’t give zim a break, could it?

 “Miss, do you agree with those people who say there are more that 2 genders?” Virgil felt zirself freeze at that, cautiously waiting for the teachers answer.

 “Well, people are born biologically either male or female. However, how someone feels is different from that.” That last part was cut out by the class practically yelling their views on the subject.

 “Yeah I think there’s only 2” said the boy who originally asked the question.

 “It’s basic biology” said another girl.

 “Yeah, I identify as an attack helicopter” joked the guy sitting next to Virgil.

 And Virgil knew, zie knew, that what they were saying was all bullshit. Just a bunch of high schoolers making comments about something they were uneducated on and likely recycling what their parents had taught them. But knowing that didn’t stop all the air leaving Virgil’s lungs. It didn’t stop the shaking of zir hands in zir pockets. It didn’t stop the tears threatening to roll past zir eyes, risking making zim look like an idiot and outing zim to the whole class.

 Miss Richie continued with the lesson but Virgil wasn’t paying attention. Zie was too focused on getting zir breathing under control while simultaneously trying to mask zir distress from the rest of the class. Virgil just desperately wanted to leave, get as far away from this room and these people as possible. But zie knew it would look too suspicious if zie asked to go to the bathroom right after what had just been said. So zie just sat there until the lesson was over before quickly shoving all zir stuff in zir bag and dashing off to the nearest bathroom.

 There didn’t seem to be anyone in there (although it was kind of hard to tell as the edges of zir sight were very blurry) so zie collapsed against the wall and slid zir back down to sit on the floor. Virgil gasped for air but it didn’t seem to be much use. Not with zir brain screaming at them.

 You’re going to have to see a lot of those students for last period!

What’s gonna happen next biology lesson?!

Or when you come out?!

Why are you even having an anxiety attack over this?!

You’re just being an attention seeker!

You’re probably not even genderqueer! You’re probably just a cis guy wanting to be special!

 Virgil was crying now, hugging zir legs close to zir chest and hiding zir face.

 Pathetic! You’re so pathetic!

“Hey, are you alright?” a sudden voice caused Virgil’s head to snap up. Zie was met with concerned navy-blue eyes framed by their rectangle glasses.

 Virgil wasn’t entirely sure zie could speak right now so zie shook zir head quickly. The stranger (Virgil vaguely recognized them, but the panic and tears made it difficult to see clearly) knelt down in front of zim.

 “Is it alright if I touch you?” Virgil slowly nodded, trying to focus on the calming, monotone voice. Zie felt a hand gently touch zir knee and begin to rub calming circles. “I want you to breath with me, ok? In for 4 seconds…” Virgil recognized this breathing pattern but was grateful to have someone guide zim through it. The first time Virgil didn’t quite manage to hold zir breath for the full 7 seconds but the other student adjusted accordingly and continued, Virgil managing the second time around. Soon, zie felt zirself breathing on zir own without much difficulty.

 Zie felt the stranger pull away and Virgil was able to get a proper look at them. Now zie could see the specs of light in their dark ocean eyes, few freckles along their nose were magnified by their glasses. Their dress sense was very formal, at least compared to Virgil who wore the same purple patched hoodie basically every day. Their tie was tied perfectly and matched their eyes. This was contrasted with their black polo shirt. Their dark brown hair was also brushed neatly.

 “Are you feeling better now” they asked.

 “Uh, yeah I think so. Um…thanks for helping…um?” Virgil mumbled.

 “-Logan and it was no problem. My younger brother struggles with anxiety attacks so I know what to do in these situations.”

 Logan stood up and offered Virgil a hand which zie accepted. Zie caught zir appearance in the mirror, slightly horrified at the sight of zir blood-shot eyes, red cheeks and black eye shadow running down zir face. Zie wasted no time in grabbing a makeup wipe from zir bag and attempting to make zirself look slightly presentable.

 “I don’t believe I got your name.” Virgil chuckled slightly to zirself at how formal the student spoke.

 “It’s Virgil.”

 Logan nodded. “Well Virgil, do you wish to talk about what caused you to have an anxiety attack?” Virgil immediately froze. Sure, Logan seemed chill but what if they were actually transphobic?! Or told everyone?! Or a teacher?! What if the teacher or someone else then told zir parents?! Even if they were cool, zie wasn’t ready to come out to anyone yet!

 Logan must have sensed zir hesitation because they followed it up with “If you do not wish to talk about it, that’s fine. However, I am here if you need me.”

 “Thanks.” Virgil answered simply, starting to be reminded of the reality of zir life. That zie was a lonely, questioning genderqueer in a catholic school filled with cishets, most of them who would be ready and willing to beat zim up if they knew. Sure, zie knew a few queer people but no one who was also nonbinary. The more Virgil thought about it, the more isolated zie started to feel.

 “Do you wish me to escort you to class?” Logan asked, taking zim out of zir thoughts.

 “Oh, um, no. It’s alright.” Virgil said, kind of awkwardly, scratching the back of zir neck.

 “Very well.” Logan nodded, picking up their backpack, which had been resting beside them. It was then that Virgil noticed it. A yellow, white, purple and black badge with “he/they” written on it. Virgil stared at it, stunned. Zie slowly started to feel a warmness and sense of belonging growing in zir chest.

 “Is there a problem?” Logan asked, sounding slightly confused.

 “What? Oh, no!” Virgil said quickly before smiling to zirself. “No problem at all.”

 Huh, Virgil thought to zirself guess I’m not so alone after all.

Reblogs > likes

#how i write hurt comfort apparently: write my irl hurt and add the comfort i wish i had :') #virgil sanders #non binary virgil #nb virgil #logan sanders #non binary logan #nb logan #analogical #north writes #tw transphobia #tw enbyphobia #tw anxiety attack #one shot #highschool au

[raziroo]

Chapter Four | I Take A Liking To Lilac All Of A Sudden

Pairing: Lotor x Reader (There you go)

Genre: Angst? I don't knowww

Warnings: Mentions of cancer, mild swearing

Word Count: 1,676

Author’s Note: This is kind of a filler? I can't write long shit in one sitting, so. It's important to reader and lotor's relationship, tho.

‘Good luck. Come back alive, all of you, alright?’ I asked, my eyes roving over the three people standing before me – Matt, Pidge, and Shiro. ‘It’s, like, one of the simplest things you could do. You give Lotor, you get Mr. Holt. Simple. Very simple and easily doable. Right?’ My gaze dragged over all of them once more as I picked at my nails nervously. As much as I was aware of the fact that this trade wasn’t simple and easily doable, I knew that I would legitimately have a nervous breakdown if I didn’t spew lies through my teeth.

Shiro smiled at me lightly. ‘Of course. I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong. You guys take care too.’

‘If, however, anything happens,’ Allura chided, ‘the other lions will arrive as soon as possible.’

‘Yeah,’ Pidge said with a wry smirk, ‘so try not to pass out.’

‘Okay,’ I nodded my head rapidly, ‘yeah, okay, I – I can do that.’

‘Good. Well, we’ll get going then,’ Shiro announced, and turned around, the others following him.

Hopefully, all would go well.

. . . . .

You know what? Everything actually went relatively well. Yes, my hunch turned out to be correct and Zarkon chose to go through with the ‘I was lying all along! Bwahahaha!’ route and ended up getting himself killed at the hands of his son, but overall, I’d say it was a win-win, seeing that we got Pidge’s father back (thank God, who knows what havoc she’d wreak if we ended up not getting Sam back) and the evil maniacal tyrant who’d been ruling over the universe for ten thousand years died.

The one downside was that now there needed to be a new Emperor, because following Zarkon’s death, not only the Galra empire, but simultaneously the entire universe had gone into a state of chaos too. There was no doubt that underlings and generals would try to take over smaller parts of the empire, and once that happened, Voltron being able to do anything would be a stretch.

And, according to Lotor, a ceremony to crown the new emperor, the Kral Zera, would now be taking place. Once he said that, he really didn’t need to say more – it was obvious what his implications were. A new emperor was to be crowned, and if Voltron was to achieve peace, Lotor would have to go and secure the throne. It was a sensible thought to be had, no problem. The thing was, to reach the Kral Zera, which was taking place in two days, in itself was a decision to be taken with utmost thought. The Paladins just didn’t have enough time to decide.

On the one hand, Shiro and Lotor were adamant that the latter be crowned emperor; the other Paladins, however, were justifiably hesitant. I had been standing there listening to them going back and forth, not saying a word myself, like always.

To be honest, I just wanted to go sleep. For some reason, I’d been feeling overly anxious these past few days. White was still not responding to me, I was having regular dreams about the day I woke up here. It was always that one day, that first conversation I had with Shiro. It was as if my subconsciousness too wanted me to reach out to Shiro because there was clearly something weird going on with him.

My suspicions only solidified when I heard Shiro’s voice boom through the room. My head snapped up. Lance with a look of shock and the slightest bit of fear on his face, Shiro’s visage twisted with uncharacteristic anger.

‘Shiro. I think you should just relax a little.’ The man turned to me, brows pinched.

‘I am relaxed -’

‘No, I really think you aren’t… so, like… take it easy, yeah?’ I asked, jumping my eyebrows, arms still folded in front of me, maintaining a calm yet defensive posture. I could feel the entire room’s gazes on me. After all, I almost never spoke in such discussions, or any discussions, really, and indirectly opposing Shiro, of all people, was way too brave a thing for me to do.

Shiro looked at me with slight disbelief, a glint in his eye challenging me to speak up. ‘You want me to take it easy? Take it easy? The fate of the universe depends on this, taking it easy is really not an option right now. I’ve put my foot down – as the Leader of Voltron, I’ve taken this decision. You aren’t someone befitted to oppose me.’

Ok, wow. Everyone shared the same opinion apparently, as now the silence seemed piercing. Clicking my tongue, I tilted my head. ‘Well, maybe not as a Paladin, which I’m not, or a member of the coalition. But as a friend, Shiro, you’ve been acting strange. Everyone realises this. You realise this. … Maybe, I don’t know… maybe all this reflecting on you’ve been doing, maybe the role of leader is taking a toll on you? I, heh,’ I chuckle, ‘I really am not sure. But you’re not relaxed, and you’re not acting yourself.’

‘Could you please not tell me how to be a Paladin?’

‘While you all waste time squabbling, sinister forces are conspiring to fill the Galra power void. If I don’t return to claim the throne, there’s no telling who will.’

Does being royalty instantly make you a hundred times more dramatic? Sinister forces? Deadass?

I walked out.

. . . . .

Shiro went behind our back.

Yeah.

Acting like a complete bitch, he took Lotor to the Kral Zera, where, for your information, he could’ve been blown up. By Keith.

I wanted to deck Shiro. Instead, I visited White. I had hopes she’d respond to me, since I’d been brave and spoken my mind. I prayed on all the Gods and Deities above that my expectations became reality.

Yeah, they didn’t. She didn’t budge. The whole entire two goddamned hours I sat in front of White, she ignored me. Frustrated, I ended up punching her, resulting in bleeding knuckles. Lotor saw that, by the way. He seemed to always be keeping an eye on White, regardless of me being there or not, which I admit is a little strange, but I wasn’t judging. These aliens seemed to worship the Lions.

Lotor also invited us to the Galra headquarters, and lord oh my lord, was it fancy. Allura had gone off to do research with Lotor (I’d been about to make a joke about what “research” those two were really about to do, if you catch my drift, but then I saw Lance looking at the pair glumly, and thought better of it. I’d lightly punched Lance on the shoulder, and raised my eyebrows so as to say ‘They’re gorgeous aliens who could give Bella Hadid and Harry Styles a run for their money, it can’t be helped.’ He laughed.) I accompanied Hunk, Lance and Pidge in their shenanigans for a while, but ended up wandering around the place.

Space was beautiful. Even through a window, I wanted to just stare at it for as long as I could, enjoying a show more realistic than ever before. It was really similar to all the Marvel movies I’d watched; I felt a weird sense of pride at that realization. I remembered how I’d cried at the end of Infinity War, my friends clinging to me and bawling as well; how loud I’d squealed at an absolutely steamy piece of Kakashi fanart Cory had drawn; how happy I’d been when Sasha, my neighbour and childhood friend, had come out victorious after battling cancer for years.

I hadn’t realized when the tears had started slipping down my cheeks. I wiped at them, but they wouldn’t go. Sniffling and wiping so furiously my skin would get burned when I heard footsteps, I turned to see Lotor approaching me.

‘Hey -’ shit, my voice was so thick. Clearing my throat obnoxiously loud, I greeted him again. ‘Hey, uh… what… how’s yours and Allura’s research going?’

‘The research has been going quite smoothly.’

‘Hmm. Nice.’

Lotor was staring – no, correction - scrutinising me. I could feel it, his intense as hell eyes burning into the side of my face. I wasn’t going to give up, though. I stared at the window with as much concentration as he me.

He was the first to speak up. Ha.

‘You’re not of the Paladins.’

‘Really? I didn’t know, thanks,’ I still wasn’t looking at him.

‘Deepest apologies if I offended you -’

‘You didn’t, it’s okay.’

‘…’

‘…’

‘…If you wish to answer, why do you appear… distant, compared to the other Paladins? You say they are your friends, but there’s such scarce interaction… you seem acquaintances at best.’

‘… They are my friends. I like to think so, because, well… because I don’t have anyone to go back home to.’

‘Oh. My apologies, I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘You didn’t pry, chill. It’s not that my family’s dead or anything, it’s just that… no, well, my family is dead, but… like, they’ve been dead for around three hundred or so years…?’ I turned to Lotor, brows furrowed. He looked less confused than me.

‘Sorry, no, that’s – that’s shit explanation, um… you could say… I… I’ve lived past my time. I’m alive when I’m not supposed to be.’

I didn’t explicitly mention, as you can see, that I was a time traveller, because I wasn’t really one with that fact yet. I’d accepted it, yes, but that didn’t mean I was comfortable with it. It was still a foreign truth, something I didn’t take great joy in talking or thinking about.

When I turned to Lotor, I felt like he’d understood what he needed to already.

It was bizarre. A lilac alien was the last person I would expect to understand me so easily, but it was what it was.

#vld #voltron legendary defender #lotor #lotor x reader #shiro #takashi shirogane #hunk garrett #lance mcclain #pidge gunderson #katie holt #keith kogane #galra #allura #coran #honerva #haggar #altea

[wesokkasimp]

impulsive (part one)

TW!! mild swearing, mentions of death, bad makeout scene

word count: 8766

You woke up to a splitting headache. For a few minutes you couldn’t concentrate on, much less remember, anything. All you could do was focus on the pounding in your head while you pitied yourself.

Then, it all started to come back, bit by bit. Azula had split off from you, Mai, and Ty Lee to find the Avatar, tasking the three of you with finding his friends. You had found and fought them pretty easily, but things took a turn for the worse when the sky bison flung your comrades into the water. You  were spared from the lake, but had been knocked unconscious by the male Water Tribe peasants toy. That was probably where your headache had come from. But that didn’t answer the question of where you were. Suddenly, your thoughts were cut off by a shout.

“Guys, something’s moving in the tent. I think she’s awake!”

Okay, that was definitely not Mai, Ty Lee, or Azula. Something wasn’t right.

You tried to sit up and stretch, but found that your hands had been bound. You realized that your ankles were bound, too. An uneasy feeling began to settle in your stomach. It couldn’t be…

The tent flaps began to shuffle. As an unfamiliar figure entered the vicinity, you caught bits and pieces of conversation. Spirits of the islands, now was not the time for a migraine. 

“Are you sure she’s awake?”

“She doesn’t look conscious…”

“Is she falling back asleep?”

“Hey! Whoever you are! Don't…”

****************************

You woke up again, this time with a milder headache and a clearer mind. Unlike the last time you woke up, you were not alone in the tent. The waterbender you had fought with Mai and Ty Lee was sitting by your feet. As if on cue, she noticed that you were no longer passed out.

“Hey, you’re awake again! How are you feeling?” the girl spoke, genuine concern lacing her voice.

“Who are you? Where did Mai and Ty Lee go?” you mumbled.

“My name’s Katara. You and your... group fought me and my brother yesterday. Sok- er, my brother hit you with his boomerang and you were knocked unconscious. Appa knocked your friends into the lake, and they were taking a while to get out of the water. We didn’t just want to leave you there, but we had to get going to see if Aang was alright. So we, um… Took you with us.” the evidently uncomfortable girl explained.

“What’s an Appa? Who’s Aang? And most importantly, who gave you the right to kidnap me!?” you barked at the now annoyed peasant.

“H-hey! We may have just saved your life, so I would be a little more grateful if I were you. My brother hit you pretty hard, I had to heal some of your head injuries after we set up camp. Appa’s our sky bison, and Aang is the Avatar. Y’know, the person you’re trying to kidnap?” the Water Tribe girl snarked.

Suddenly, a boy entered the tent. You recognized him from your fight at the lake the other day, and he looked similar to Katara. He must be her brother.

“Did she finally wake up? I heard shouting.” the boy asked his sister.

“Yeah, she did. Now, if you could kindly untie my hands I can leave and we can pretend this never happened,” you huffed, not wanting to waste another second with these low-life peasants.

“We can’t just let you go! You’ll probably try to kidnap Aang, and even if you don’t, you’ll definitely tell your little girl gang where we are! We need to stay here for a while so that Aang can learn earthbending, Toph said that he’d pick it up quicker if he learned all the basics in the same spot,” the boy sneered.

“Who are you? And who’s Toph?” you asked, seemingly innocent. In reality, you were gathering possibly useful information to give to Azula when you were finally released. 

They would release you, right?

“I’m Sokka, the guy that hit you in the head with a boomerang,” he stated smugly, pride washing over him as he watched you scowl. “Toph is… Well, I’ll just get her in here.”

After a few uncomfortable beats of silence with the waterbender, the boy entered the tent again, this time with a small girl following him.

“This is Toph. She’s teaching Aang earthbending,” Sokka sighed. He was clearly already exasperated.

You took in the girl standing above you. She was quite small and delicate looking. As your eyes traveled to her face, you noticed her eyes were glazed over. Realizing she was blind, you let out a hearty cackle.

“What’s so funny?” the girl demanded. It seemed she also had a bad temper.

“Oh, nothing,” you sighed. “I just think it’s a little funny that the best earthbending teacher the Avatar could find is a tiny blind girl.”

A chunk of earth shot up from the ground and smacked you square in the forehead the second you finished that sentence.

“Hey! H-how can you see where I am?” you squeaked. Perhaps you had underestimated this girl.

“I see everything with my feet, dunderhead. Ever heard of seismic sense? You’re lucky that’s all I did, because trust me, Princess, I’m capable of a lot more,” Toph chuckled.

Okay, this girl was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Your gut was telling you, and your gut never lied. You made a mental note to report all of this to Azula.

“Well, it’s been fun, but I really need to get going. I know you guys don’t trust me, you’d be fools if you did, but what are you going to do with me? I’m a world class combat expert, I’ve been in worse situations, so unless you're planning to keep an eye on me 24/7 and  putting better restraints on me I’ll probably escape by dawn,” you drawled. 

“She has a point, y’know. Azula is the princess of the Fire Nation- it would only make sense for her to have the best team of warriors money can buy,” Toph stated.

“Azula isn’t paying me,” you scoffed. “I’d never accept pay. Serving beside someone in the royal family so closely is the one of the highest honors someone could get- that’s payment enough.”

“You think hunting down and kidnapping the world's last hope for peace is honorable?” Katara said, shooting you the deadliest glare you’d ever received.

“The Avatar isn’t the world's last hope for peace. If the other nations would just cooperate with the Fire Nation-”

“How could you expect us to cooperate with conquest?” Katara screeched, cutting you off in the process.

“Look, now is not the time to get into this argument. Right now, we need to figure out what we’re gonna do with…?” Sokka sent you a questioning look as he realized you hadn’t shared your name yet.

“Y/N.” you sighed.

This may be harder than you initially thought.

****************************

The group had come up with a temporary plan. They replaced your rope restraints with earth ones Toph made. They already had a night watch system in place, so they decided that whoever was doing night watch would simultaneously watch you.

You didn’t get a wink of sleep that night, so lucky you got to stay up through all four shifts. Katara had the first shift. Her shift was uneventful, it seemed she didn’t have the best social skills. She reminded you of Azula in that way. A lot of ways, actually. They were both 14, powerful benders, and overshadowed their older brothers. You couldn’t be positive about anything, but you were pretty good at reading people, and from the small amount of time you’d spent with these four misfits you had picked up a bit of jealousy on Sokka's end. Probably because his sister was a bender and he wasn’t. It was understandable- you’d probably be jealous of your own older brother if he possessed bending and you didn’t, even if it was a weak element like water. Lucky for you, you had firebending, the most superior element. Although you supposed it would be nice to be an earthbender right now. You had been thinking for hours about a way to escape with your firebending, but so far it had been in vain.

The next person on the night watch was Sokka. Unlike Katara, he attempted to make small talk with you.

“So, how long have you known Azula?” the watertribe peasant questioned. You thought about the question, and after deciding there wasn’t a way your answer could be used against you later, you answered,

“About two months. She knew Ty Lee and Mai from The Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girls. I went there too, but we didn’t know each other. When her father asked her to hunt down her brother, she saw my name on the top of a list of elite soldiers. She asked me to join her team, and I accepted.”

“You were in the military?” Sokka asked. His eyes widened, probably wondering why someone as young as you was in the military. After all, you were only 16.

“Yup. My family was pretty poor, until some soldiers came to our house one day and saw my brother and I were firebending prodigies. We got moved to a fancy housing unit near the Fire Nation Royal Academies. After I graduated three years ago, I was enrolled into the military,” you answered. You didn’t know why you were telling him all this, but Sokka was surprisingly easy to talk to.

“Wow. I can’t imagine joining the military that young. In the Southern Water Tribe the minimum age for joining is 17,”  Sokka replied. “I actually tried to join when I was 13, but my father made me stay.”

“That was a mistake on your tribe's part. You’re a strong, able, young man. You could’ve been trained in a few months and then your tribe would’ve had another set of hands,” you stated cooly. 

The boy only hummed in response. He knew it was pointless to try and get you to understand why sending a child into battle was wrong. He knew how the Fire Nation carefully bred its children to be cold-hearted, logical, and violent. Yet he couldn’t help but feel that there was something different about you. On the surface, you seemed like every other Fire Nation noble he’d come across: arrogant, cocky, and ruthless. But underneath, he saw more. Remorse? Guilt? Like you knew in your gut that what you were doing was wrong, but the Fire Nation had trained you to trust them and only them? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he had seen something similar in Zuko. It was more apparent in you, though.

The rest of Sokka's shift went without a word. The third shift belonged to the Avatar himself. This was the first time you really got a good look at the boy. He was shorter than you expected, but besides his height everything about him radiated maturity. You thought about what he had gone through to get that maturity- learning about the genocide of his people a century after it happened, the Northern Water Tribe fiasco, and being hunted down by two of the worlds most powerful firebenders. All in a few months, on top of the normal stresses of being the Avatar. You felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. Even if your loyalties belonged to the Fire Nation, you had never thought the genocide of the Air Nomads was anything less than barbaric, even if you would never dare say that out loud. But the Fire Nation had evolved for the better. Things were different now.

Right?

“You must hate me,” you chuckled darkly. Your voice was humorless.

Aang looked confused as he asked “Why would I hate you?”

“I’ve been hired by someone to kidnap you, and wholeheartedly agree with what they're doing. Don’t worry. I’d hate me too,” you replied.

“I don’t hate anybody. I could only hate someone that truly had no good in them, but there’s good in everyone. Even you,” the monk said. He smiled up at you.

You were surprised at his words. You shouldn’t have been. He was a pacifist monk, after all. Not many people had ever tried to see good in you. Why would they? You were a soldier that served your nation loyally. Nothing more, nothing less. There didn’t need to be good in you. In fact, it was better if there wasn’t any good or bad in you. As long as you stayed loyal and obeyed the Fire Nation, everyone seemed perfectly content with leaving you be. 

The rest of Aang's shift went by without another word between the two of you until the very end. Aang started to stand, eager to get back to sleep, when you started to speak,

“Hey! I just wanted to, um, apologize.”

Aang's eyes widened in surprise. Was it possible? Has his ~inspirational~ words touched your heart this quickly? Reversed the years of brainwashing and abuse the Fire Nation had exposed you to? Maybe you would even willingly join their team! Maybe-

He was cut off by your explanation, “What happened to your people, I mean. Not, uh, trying to kidnap you.”

“Oh,” the young Avatar replied. “It’s alright. It’s not like it was your fault.”

Okay, not exactly what he was looking for. But hey, at least there was some good in you. Not wanting a race of people to be brutally murdered or wishing an entire culture to be wiped out was… a start.

Finally, the fourth shift started. Toph. You didn’t have much respect for any of these kids, but Toph was definitely the one who had garnered most of your respect. Despite her lack of sight, Toph was the most powerful earthbender you had ever seen. In a way, her blindness enhanced her abilities by heightening her other senses. She didn’t take shit from anyone, which was something you were insecure about. Being in the Fire Nation militia, you had to take shit from your superiors, unless you wanted to be discharged. Or worse.

It seemed that Toph was not a morning person, so about 25 minutes after her shift started, Toph dozed off.

For a second, you couldn’t believe your eyes. What luck after such a pitiful few hours! But there was still the problem of your restraints. You hadn’t really taken in the campsite, as you had thought you wouldn’t have the chance to escape. While you were looking around, a sharp rock caught your eye. Perfect.

After scooting over to the rock, which took more time than you would like to admit, you raised your arms and brought them down hard upon the rock. The restraints broke instantly. After doing the same with your ankles, you surveyed the land. You figured you only had about an hour until somebody woke up, so you had to get moving quickly. You had a pretty good sense of direction, and that sense was telling you to go west of the campsite. You began spriniting in that direction. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sprint like this for long, but you had to get a head start. Once “Team Avatar” realized you had left, they might go looking for you on their giant flying bison.

 ****************************

You had been traveling for two days now. You weren’t anxious about a Team Avatar member hunting you down anymore. That was a worry of the past. Now you were more concerned with getting something to eat. You had  found some hope when you came across a town, only to be disappointed after finding it was abandoned. Even though you were hungry and thirsty, you were also absolutely exhausted, and this town could provide shelter. You walked into the first building you saw, ready to pass out as soon as you hit the floor. In fact, you were so completely out of it that you didn’t notice the building was already occupied. You simply entered, found a nice corner, and hit the deck.

While you may not have noticed the other occupants of the decrepit building, they noticed you. Well, one of them. A certain banished prince, to be exact. 

He watched as you slept, not even sparing him a glance before you fell asleep. It was a bit shocking, to say the least. Any normal traveler would walk in, realize the building was occupied, apologize, and find another place to rest. This behaviour was suspicious. Too suspicious to not give you a quick once over.

Zuko walked over to you as quietly as possible, even though he didn’t need to worry about his volume. You were an impressively heavy sleeper, especially when you were exhausted like this. He crouched over you, taking in your features. His face softened for a moment as he saw the pure exhaustion gracing your eyes, hardening again soon after. What did he care if you were well rested or not? You were just some random traveler. He looked around in your corner and saw that there was no weapon. You didn’t even have a small travel bag.

Assured you were no threat, Zuko walked back over to his sleeping uncle and decided to turn in after a long day of training.

 ****************************

You woke up feeling more refreshed than you had in days. That was the best sleep you’d had in, what, seven weeks? You began stretching your limbs, feeling ready to continue your search for Azula. Then the hunger pains hit.

You doubled over, letting out a small moan of pain. That small moan, however, was all it took to awake the Dragon of the West.

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he looked around to make sure his nephew was okay. The prince was sleeping peacefully beside him. As you let out another hiss of pain, Iroh whipped his head around to see you, a young girl, clutching your obnoxiously loud stomach. He had conquered enough small Earth Kingdom villages to know what starving looked like, and that’s exactly what he was seeing. 

“Excuse me, miss,” he all but whispered. You whipped your head around, suddenly on high alert.

“I apologize, I did not mean to startle you. But I noticed that you seem quite hungry,” your stomach growled in response as Iroh spoke. “My nephew and I have a little extra food to spare, as well as some exquisite tea. Would you like to join us for breakfast?”

Under normal circumstances, you would have been way more skeptic of an old man you’d just met offering you food. But you hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the night before you got kidnapped, and this weirdo was your only option. 

“I suppose,” you sighed.

“Wonderful! I will get started on breakfast. Would you like ginseng, green, or jasmine tea?”

“Jasmine,” you responded.

“Good choice. Jasmine is my nephews favorite,” the old man replied, a fond look painting his face.

As Iroh started breakfast, you couldn’t help but feel as if he looked familiar. Perhaps he had been on the news? Or possibly one of your textbooks? You shook off the feeling immediately; no. It wasn’t possible some filthy traveler had made it into a textbook. You laughed internally at the thought.

About 45 minutes had passed since Iroh began preparing breakfast, and he had finally finished cooking the meal. You walked over to the corner of the room the old man and his nephew had been staying in as Iroh beckoned you over. When you got close enough to the younger man to get a good look at him, you got that same familiarity ebbing at your insides. It wasn’t an unsettling familiarity, just… strange. But you supposed everything about this situation was strange. 

Just as you began to sit, you were interrupted.

“I’m sorry, young lady. But could you wake up my nephew? As you can see by the bandages, I got hurt quite badly recently and cannot move around very well,” the old man said sheepishly.

“Sure,” you replied. This old man seemed nice enough, and he was making you, a complete stranger to him, breakfast. So you didn’t mind waking up his nephew. It was an easy task.

Or so you thought.

As you walked over to the sleeping boy and crouched over him, your breath hitched in your throat. Oh wow. This boy was quite the looker. His scar made him look all the more badass. You shook off these thoughts as quickly as he came. No. You didn’t have the time to pursue relationships with boys you didn’t even know.

You put your hand to the sleeping boy's arm gently, shaking him just enough to wake up. Waking him up wasn’t the hard part. The hard part came after he woke up.

You know, the part where he proceeded to attack you.

You let out a squeak of surprise as he leapt onto you, pinning you to the floor in the process. All your normal reflexes and strength had gone with your full stomach. On top of that, you didn’t want to hurt this guy, spirits forbid his uncle reclaim your breakfast invite. His arms were by the sides of your head to keep from crushing you. He leaned down to your face.

“Who are you, and what are you doing?” the boy growled into your ear, his voice extra raspy considering he had just woken up. He sent you a glare that rivaled the one Katara had sent you the other day.

“Lee! This is not how we treat our guests. I invited this young lady to sit with us for breakfast and asked her to wake you up,” Iroh scolded.

“Uncle, you can’t just go around inviting random people to sit with us at meals!” Zuko protested. “It isn’t safe.”

“Hush, nephew. She’s joining us and that’s final,” Iroh retorted. 

Zuko sent you a final glare before getting off of you.

The meal was pretty silent at first, not that you minded. You were pretty focused on stuffing your face. After a few minutes of comfortable silence passed, Iroh started some small talk.

“So, young lady. I don’t believe you told me your name. What is it, if you don’t mind me asking?” Iroh inquired.

“Y/N,” you responded. “I don’t think I caught your name either.”

“Mushi,” the man responded. “And this is my nephew, Lee.” he gestured to the boy sitting next  to him. Said boy sent you another glare. You sent him your snarkiest stare back.

“So,” you began, “Mushi. Where are you from?”

“I come from a small village in the Earth Kingdom, you’ve most likely never heard of it. My nephew and I left a few years ago in search of a better life,” Iroh answered as his gaze traveled to the small travel kettle. “Oh! The tea is ready.”

Mushi took the kettle off of the fire. Huh. Fire. That wasn’t there when the old man had first invited you to breakfast, and you hadn’t heard him trying to make a fire. Unless he was a firebender, which was impossible considering he was from the Earth Kingdom, how did he start a fire so easily?

You brushed it off. He probably just had a lot of experience or something, right? Yeah, yeah. Sure. Instead, you turned your attention back to  ‘Mushi’ (you suspected that wasn’t his real name), who was pouring some jasmine tea for his nephew. The smallest fond smile graced the boy's face as his uncle poured his tea. His smile was a nice change of pace from his usual scowl. You wished you could see him smile more.

Wait, no. What were these thoughts? You couldn’t go around ogling at boys like a school-girl! It was simply out of the question. You had one purpose in life: Serve. The. Fire Nation. Maybe someday your parents would arrange a marriage for you or something of the like, but you had no intention of falling in love.Wishing someone happiness and a crush were two very different things. Besides, you could never fall in love with someone just because of their looks. You weren’t that shallow. 

Once you had finished breakfast, you walked back over to the corner you claimed to pack up. After noting that there was nothing to pack up, anxiety started to settle in. Realizing you didn’t even have a weapon to defend yourself with, you started to feel full on panic. You had been so preoccupied with escaping Team Avatar and staying alive that your lack  of, well, anything had slipped your conscious. 

This was not good. You were in the middle of nowhere with nothing  but the clothes on your back. 

Mushi must have taken in your state of dismay, because he walked over to you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“You seem a little lost, Y/N. Is there any way I could help you?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. But I think I’m going to have to stay in this town another night until I can figure something out,” you sighed. Every moment you became more and more anxious about how Azula would react if- no, when you returned. Would she be angry about it? Or did she view you as a disposable tool? You hoped for the latter. If that was how she saw you, maybe she would be pleasantly surprised when you returned. While “disposable tool” might not have been the exact way you described yourself, it certainly was close to that. Serving your country was a noble thing, and if you died doing it, it would be an honorable death.

“I think you are making a wise choice. It would be foolish to go out traveling with no resources. However, because you are staying, I do have to tell you something. I have not been completely honest,” the man muttered, looking at you sheepishly.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, incredulousness gracing your features. How could he have lied? He’d barely spoken to you, for spirits sake!

“My name’s not Mushi, and my nephew is not Lee. We’re not from the Earth Kingdom. Our names are Iroh and Zuko, and we hail from the Fire Nation,” Iroh explained.

“Oh,” you said, relieved it hadn’t been something worse. “That’s fine. I’m from the Fire Nation too. But why didn’t you just tell me in the first place?”

“I was not sure if you were from the Earth Kingdom or the Fire Nation. Most people are not comfortable revealing that information to strangers. People from the Earth Kingdom do not always react kindly to Fire Nation citizens,” the old man replied.

“Damn right,” you scoffed. “Personally, I think they need a little lesson in respect.”

Iroh hummed in response, not showing any other sign of agreement or disagreement. He didn’t want to scare you off or fight you, but he also didn’t want to show any agreement with what you’d just said.

“Are you a firebender? I’ve been teaching my nephew, so if you’d like to train with us, you’re more than welcome,” Iroh inquired.

You thought about the offer. You hadn’t trained in a week. You had decided not to bend at all while you were traveling to conserve energy, so your bending was probably a little rusty.

“Sure, I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you responded.

“Great! My nephew and I are currently working on a special technique that we started yesterday. We’re redirecting lightning. I actually made it myself,” Iroh replied eagerly.

“Wait, you can redirect lightning? Does that mean you’re a lightning bender?” you asked, dumbfounded. Lightning bending was one of, if not the most, powerful forms of bending. Because it was so powerful, the only people who got to learn it were members of the Fire Nation royal family.

“Yes, I can conjure lightning. But I don’t do it often,” Iroh chuckled.

 Then it all began clicking into place for you- of course! Prince Zuko and former heir to the throne General Iroh! It hadn’t clicked sooner because of Prince Zuko’s banishment. You hadn’t heard his name in a few years, and he had just kind of left your consciousness. 

“So you’re General Iroh? The Dragon of the West? The only man to ever conquer Ba Sing Se?” you squealed. General Iroh was a hero of yours. He was a strong asset to the Fire Nation and an even stronger bender. His loss of Ba Sing Se had been disappointing, and you personally thought he should have stayed. Still, losing a son must be hard. The loss of Lu Ten, whom you had thought was going to be the Fire Lord one day, was devastating for the entire Fire Nation. On top of all that, he was stripped of his heir status. The details on that had always been shady, as Fire Lord Azulon never mentioned anything about his wishes for Ozai to become the Fire Lord while he was still alive. Not to mention Fire Princess Ursa disappearing right before Ozai’s coronation. Still, reading into it too much was a waste of time. Fire Lord Ozai was a strong leader, and that was what the Fire Nation needed.

“Uh, yes. I did conquer Ba Sing Se for some time,” Iroh replied, trying his hardest to hide the discomfort that had now taken over his face. “But let's not focus on that. We should get to training.” he urged.

You walked outside with Iroh towards a cliff, where Zuko was waiting. As he spotted you, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Surprise quickly turned to annoyance as he said,

“Uncle! Was inviting her to breakfast not enough? Why is she out here?”

Iroh looked impatient while saying, “Zuko! Where are your manners today? Y/N here is a bit stranded, so for the time being, she will train with us.”

Realizing his uncle had called him by his real name, Zuko sent Iroh a glare, but he didn’t say anything about it. Zuko didn’t want to give himself away completely.

“I just remembered- you need to be in a calm state of mind for today's exercise. I need to go make some ginseng tea!” Iroh said, hurrying back to the decaying building to start the drink.

You groaned internally. You had grown quite fond of the old man already, but you couldn’t say the same for his nephew. 

An uncomfortable silence took over as he just stood there awkwardly.

“So, how long does it take for your uncle to make tea?” you asked, hoping to quell the silence and get an estimate of when you could begin training.

“Half an hour for ginseng. He likes to get it just right,” Zuko answered. He was clearly annoyed by your presence, as he has hoped to work on the lightning technique his uncle created. But alas, he couldn’t give away that he was from the Fire Nation. I mean, really? Why had his uncle agreed to letting you train them? A free meal was courteous enough, no? Now a whole day of training would be wasted on teaching some random girl the basics of hand to hand combat.

“Is he coming back while the tea steeps to get us started?” you sighed.

“No, he usually stays by the tea. He doesn’t want anything to happen to it,” Zuko explained.

“Well, in that case, do you want to get started without him? Just to warm up?” you asked.

“Sure, why not?” Zuko mumbled sarcastically. Was a moment alone with his uncle too much to ask for?

As Zuko got into a standard position for hand to hand combat, you crossed your arms and shot him a confused look.

“Spirits, don’t tell me you don’t even know basic fighting stances,” Zuko groaned.

“Of course I know basic fighting stances!” you countered. “But why are you in a hand to hand combat stance? I thought this was a firebending session.”

Zuko froze. “You know I’m a firebender?” “Uh, yeah! I also know who you are, princey, in case you haven’t picked up on that either. Now are we starting or not?” you cried.

Zuko stayed frozen. “How do you know who I am?” he demanded.

“Your uncle told me, idiot. You were also the heir to the throne of the country I live in for a hot minute. It took me a while, but you’re not unrecognizable,” you replied. 

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

After another few minutes of awkward silence, you spoke again.

“So hottie, are we sparring or not?” you asked, now impatient.

Zuko started to nod before he realized the nickname you had just given him.

“What did you just call me?” He tried his best to sound intimidating, but it was challenging considering his voice had gone up an octave.

You smirked. “Hottie. Y’know, short for hothead?”

“Oh,” Zuko sighed. He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed.

“You’re also, like, totally hot,” you said nonchalantly. You knew you shouldn’t have been flirting. That’s what you had been telling yourself all day. But he was just too easy! His cheeks flared up immediately after you called him hot. And you never got to flirt! You were always too busy training, or on a mission. Besides, it’s not like this will go anywhere. You’ll have your fun for an hour or two, and by the end of the day you will have figured something out and leave. 

While you were trying to justify your flirting, Zuko was busy having an existential crisis. He was, for lack of a better word, bamboozled. Just… what? How could anyone, much less a pretty girl like you, find him attractive when he had a giant fucking scar covering a third of his face? He had barely even spoken to you, and his words had been cold at best. Why did you still find him attractive? Though he supposed he was thinking the same about you. Sure, he found you annoying and maybe even a little arrogant, but he recognized your attractiveness. 

“O-okay. We can get started now,” Zuko stammered, his blush quickly spreading.

“Alright,” you giggled. “But be warned, I’m a little rusty.”

You and Zuko got into position swiftly. After stretching, Zuko got into an intermediate bending stance. 

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

As the first plumes of fire left your hands, you felt feelings you only ever felt while firebending. Grace. Comfort. Complete and total warmth. Firebending had always been a form of escapism for you, and it had killed you to temporarily stop. But now, as you focused on the flames erupting from your hands, you felt a sense of peace.

Zuko was surprised by your skill. He outmatched you, but not by nearly as much as he thought he would. It was clear you were naturally gifted at firebending; your elegant movements said that much. Zuko had the best private teachers money could buy at his disposal growing up, so he being better than you was a given. He assumed you went to one of the many Fire Nation public schools growing up, but after seeing your bending, he realized you must have gone to a pretty good private school.

After the quick warmup, Iroh came out with the tea.

“Sorry I took so long. Ginseng is always fussy,” the retired general sighed.

“Nephew, since I already told you all this yesterday, how about you take your tea and meditate for a few minutes while I catch Y/N up to speed?” Iroh asked.

“That works,” Zuko said. Oddly, after the brief spar with you, Zuko found all his annoyance at you disappearing.

 ****************************

It had been a grueling day of training. You were a fast learner, but it appeared that you were not going to master this technique any time soon Zuko tried to help you, but so far it had been to no avail. Iroh left to rest about half an hour ago, after raising his eyebrows suggestively at Zuko, who rolled his eyes at the gesture.

“You’re not getting you chi low enough,” Zuko groaned. This was the fourth time he was explaining this to you. “You need to let it travel through your stomach.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” you cried, growing frustrated.

“Just- I’ll help you,” Zuko mumbled, trudging over to where you were standing. He positioned himself behind you, putting his hands on your arms.

“It’s like this,” he explained. He guided your right arm a bit higher, and put your left arm at a much lower angle. His arms dropped from your arms to your waist.

“You have to guide the chi lower,” he repeated.

You did the motion again, making sure your arms were in the position Zuko had put them in. The places he had touched were still tingling from his warm, rough hands.

“Good job,” Zuko muttered. His hands were still placed firmly on your waist.

“Well, you’re a pretty good teacher,” you giggled. Y/N, you thought. You were trying to have as much fun with this boy as you possibly could.

“Is that so?” Zuko murmured, suddenly feeling confident. He didn’t get to have much fun either. And his uncle was always teasing him about not being good with girls. Maybe with you, he could kill two birds with one stone. Have some fun and get some practice around girls. He’d need it someday, to court his future Fire Lady. “Maybe I could teach you other things. Like firebending.”

“I know how to firebend, Zuko,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“You don’t know anything too advanced, though,” Zuko retorted.

“True, true. I guess I could take you up on that offer. But with all the things you’re teaching me, I’m going to have to teach you a few things in return.” “Like what?”

 You smirked, tilting your head back until it was under Zuko's chin. “Oh, you’ll see. But for now, teach me some firebending.”  

Zuko's heart inexplicably started racing at your mysteriousness. Was he simply nervous that he didn’t know what you were going to be teaching him? Or was it the way your voice went a little lower? The new close proximity of your faces? The knowing smirk on your face?

Still nervous, Zuko took his hands from your waist. “Okay, in that case, I’ll teach you something I invented. I call it fire daggers.”

 ****************************

“You’re doing pretty well. You just need to push a little more chi to your wrists,” Zuko explained. He had been teaching you how to create fire daggers for about 45 minutes, and you had almost mastered it.

“Okay,” you replied. You took a deep breath, and tried your hardest to focus all your chi to your hands. You felt the warmth become more concentrated around your palms, and finally, you let out two, very concentrated fire daggers.

“Finally!” you exclaimed. “Wow, you invented this?”

“Yeah, but it took a while to perfect,” Zuko admitted. “So, what are you planning to teach me?”

“Oh, can we do it after we eat? I’m starving,” you said, careful not to tell him what you had in mind.

“I’m actually not very hungry. But you go eat with my uncle. I’ll train until you can come back.” “Sounds good.” You headed to the shabby building, leaving Zuko to train. As you were walking, you began thinking of what you would teach Zuko. You hadn’t planned that far ahead. Spirits, what about this boy made you so impulsive? Oh well, you’d think of something.

“Hello, Miss Y/N!” Iroh greeted.

“Hey, Iroh,” you responded. “What’s cooking? It smells good.” 

“Some jook,” Iroh replied. “Where is my nephew?” “He’s still outside. He’s not hungry so he’s training some more.”

“Classic Zuko,” Iroh sighed.

He served you a bowl of jook, which you happily began to eat. As you were eating, your mind wandered to other places. Team Avatar, to be exact. You thought about how they treated you. Sure, they put cuffs on you, but that was expected. They weren’t complete fools. You thought more about the way they had tried to make you comfortable. They offered you water, like, every fifteen minutes. And food, which you had refused. That wasn’t a good idea in hindsight. Sokka had even tried to make you more comfortable by making small talk, and Aang had been polite when you initiated conversation. If it had been the Fire Nation who captured them, there would be no such hospitality. Why had the enemy been so kind to you? Maybe- no. How could you think such a traitorous thought? Still, now that it was on your mind, you had to let it out.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you asked, fidgeting with your spoon.

“Of course. What is on your mind?” Iroh questioned.

“Do you think this war is… right?” you sighed, not meeting Iroh’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” “Just… I was captured a few days ago, by the Avatar and his group. And some of the things they did and said got me thinking. Is it possible that the Fire Nation is in the wrong? We refuse to see good in anything but ourselves. I was taught from a young age to never show mercy; that mercy is weakness. But the Avatar and his friends were nothing but hospitable to me. I mean, what is the reason for this war? Conquest? Why are we trying to conquer the world? My school books say the Air Nomads were planning to invade us, but the more I think about that, the more absurd it sounds. They were pacifists, for spirits sake!” You hadn’t planned on saying all that, but once you started talking, you couldn’t stop. You felt confused, and now angry. Had the Fire Nation really been lying to you this whole time? Was everything you knew a lie? You felt like you were suffocating, shocked by the things that had come out of your own mouth. If you weren’t a faithful servant to the Fire Nation, who were you?

Iroh stared at his bowl of jook for a few seconds, contemplating what you had just said. Then, he spoke.

“Morals are something you must develop for yourself. Take a look at the facts and your own life experiences, and form a code of ethics to follow. I know how difficult it can be to question what you were taught, but we must always be bettering ourselves. Don’t take the easy way out, and always remember to trust your gut.”

You understood what Iroh meant. It’s easy to just follow someone blindly, especially if they’re manipulating you. Developing your own moral code, while harder, would be more fulfilling and worthwhile in the end. 

“Thanks, Iroh. I have a lot to think about,” you breathed at a barely audible voice.

“Of course, take your time.”

You slinked off to your corner, figuring you had about twenty minutes until you had to go to Zuko. You hadn’t eaten much jook. You thought about your brother, who had always been the perfect Fire Nation citizen. He never questioned the Fire Nations wishes, not for one minute. You had always looked up to him, and longed for his praise so badly, so you didn’t question the Fire Nation either. And look where that got the both of you. You were here, stranded in an abandoned Earth Kingdom village, and he was, well, dead. Killed in battle at the ripe age of 17, just as you were about to graduate from the Fire Nation Royal Academy for Girls. 

It was in that moment that you finally understood what Katara had meant. Why would the remaining two nations comply with the Fire Nation when the Fire Nation was trying to overthrow them? Complying wouldn’t result in peace. It would result in chaos.

Well, fuck. Now what were you going to do? You couldn’t go back to Azula, and your gut was telling you not to stay with Iroh and Zuko. You had to get going by tomorrow morning. 

“Iroh, I have a favor to ask,” you said.

“Anything, my dear,” he answered.

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “Do you have, like, an extra canteen of water I could take? Or a little bit of extra food? I really need to get going tomorrow morning, and-”

Iroh cut you off. “Of course, Y/N. I’ll get a few things packed up for you, but in the meantime, I think my nephew is waiting for you.” “Thanks, Iroh,” you said, smiling. Iroh nodded in your direction as you jogged out the door.

Feeling much more optimistic and more sure of yourself than you had ever been, you sauntered over to Zuko, who was doing a few cooldown stretches.

“Oh, hi Y/N. I was just finishing up. Are you ready to repay me yet?” he chuckled. 

“Not quite yet. Follow me,” you said in a teasing tone. Zuko got up and followed you despite the confused look on his face. Oh, how naive, you thought.

You led Zuko to a crumbling wall you had spotted earlier during training. When you stopped, Zuko began speaking.

“What are we doing over here? What are you even teaching me?”

You could tell he was getting impatient with you. Oh well, just give the boy what he wants.

“Never knew you were the eager type,” you giggled.

Zuko’s witty comeback died in his throat as you yanked him by the arm towards you and effectively pinned him against the wall.

“Wh- what are you-”

“Quiet, hottie,” you murmured. “Class is in session. Would you consider yourself a hands on learner?” “I guess so,” he whispered. The almighty Fire Prince was melting into a puddle right before your eyes, at your hand nonetheless. He really was too cute for his own good at this moment. His eyes wide instead of the default glare they were set in, his entire face red. 

“Good,” you responded. You took his hands, which were hanging limply at his sides, and stationed them on your waist. You then placed your hands firmly onto his shoulders. Zuko shuddered under your touch.

“Ready for the demonstration?” you asked, serious tone not at all fitting for what you were about to do to this boy.

“U-um, well, I… ah-” Zuko sputtered. Was it only this morning he was glaring at you for joining his meal?

You rolled your eyes. “Lesson one: Talk. Less.” you stated.

You leaned in until your lips were just barely brushing Zuko’s. You could hear his breath hitch in his throat. But you weren’t done having fun with him yet.

At the last minute, you turned away from his lips, instead opting to place a feather light kiss on Zuko’s cheek teasingly. 

You pulled away from Zuko slightly with a sly smile, just enough so you could see his face. His expression was shocked, confused, and longing.

Perfect.

“You don’t have to be so stiff, you know,” you giggled. “Move a little. It-”

Zuko cut you off with his lips, grasping at your waist like his life depended on it. You gasped into his mouth before hurriedly kissing back. Sure, you’d kissed a guy or two in your life, but none of them felt like Zuko. He tasted like jasmine and woodsmoke. His lips moved against yours with passion and vigor as he let out little sighs into your mouth. Your hands left Zuko’s shoulders, going to his chest instead as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. 

You pulled away from the kiss, smiling as he chased after your lips.

“Why… did you do that?” he whispered.

“I had to teach you something, didn’t I? Did you learn anything?” you asked.

“Talk less,” Zuko said, his eyes hazy.

You chuckled. “Yeah. Remember that one.”

You walked off, leaving Zuko to contemplate what  just happened.

 ****************************

You left that same night. Iroh had gone to the nearby forest to forage for some plants, and Zuko was still standing at the wall, dumbfounded. That left the building you had stayed in empty. There was a small bag sitting in the corner you had slept in, packed by Iroh. You found a compass in Iroh’s bag, found which way west was, and started off in the direction, taking the compass with you. It didn’t matter; Zuko had one in his bag. You checked.

You weren’t quite sure where you were going. Going back to Azula was obviously not an option, but the Fire Nation wasn’t a good choice either. There would be too many things to explain to your family, and you could be sent to jail for abandoning Azula. Or worse. It would be better for the time being if you were presumed dead, not that anyone besides your parents and perhaps a few of your friends would care.

That left a few options. You could become a nomad of sorts, jumping around from town to town, never staying long. You weren’t built for that sort of life, though. The few weeks traveling with Azula had been enough to last you a lifetime. Omashu, now New Ozai, had become occupied by the Fire Nation. The Northern Water Tribe was secluded and virtually untouched by the war, as the recent invasion attempt had failed. Unfortunately for you, it was nearly impossible to get to, even by high-tech warship.  That left settling down at one of the abandoned Air Temples or Ba Sing Se. The latter seemed less lonely and more attainable, so off to Ba Sing Se it was.

 ****************************

“Fine, but you’re closing tomorrow!”

“Okay okay. Thanks, Xia!”

You washed the flour caked on your hands from hours of work, left the keys in the small tray by the back door, and began your walk back to the small apartment you lived in, apron in hand.

You had been living in Ba Sing Se for two months now. After forging some papers and departing the ferry that took you to the city, you landed a job at a small, but lively bakery that locals of the outer ring loved. Your weekly salary was enough to pay for rent, food, and a few recreational activities too. Overall, you lived a comfortable life, and you would have been happy to spend the rest of your days in the life you’d built for yourself, even if you had to pretend there was no war. 

You had been hearing about a tea shop from some of your neighbors. It wasn’t new, but there was a new employee that really knew his way around the drink. You hadn’t had a cup of tea since the ginseng shared with Zuko and Iroh, and you certainly had the money for it. Deciding to treat yourself, you walked into the store and ordered a cup of jasmine tea. After paying, you sat down at a table by the window and waited for your tea to be served. Drumming your fingers on the table, you thought about how much your life had changed in just a few short months. You had gone from a loyal servant to the Fire Nation, ready to sacrifice anything and everything for a facist tyrant, to a normal young adult working in a bakery. You couldn’t help but feel grateful you had fallen into this timeline. What if Sokka’s aim had just been a bit off and you hadn’t been knocked out? You’d probably still be out there with Azula, hunting down the world's last hope for balance. Crazy how one little action can have such a huge impact. 

As you thought about Azula, your mind wandered to her older brother. You smiled at the thought of Zuko. Your time together had been brief, but you looked back on it fondly. Sure, he could be very aggressive and intimidating, but he could also be quite shy and bashful, if you got him in the right situation. 

Looking back on the kiss the two of you had shared, you blushed. You felt giddy and slightly embarrassed at the same time. You had been so impulsive in that moment, but you couldn’t help it. He was just so cute, stuttering under your soft gaze!

“Order up,” a raspy voice stated behind you.

Ah, your tea. You turned around to accept the steaming cup, tip in hand, but something stopped you from  reaching out to take the drink from the rusted tray.

That something was the wide-eyed stare of a certain Fire Nation royal family member. 

“Oh,” you choked. “Hi again.”

a/n okay i know i said literally yesterday that this would be out in december but you never know when motivation will hit ig. this isn’t the full thing but i think that’s understandable since this bitch is loooong. the second part will probably be shorter. the other zuko h/cs will still be out before thanksgiving! requests are still open as well, but i want to finish this so it may take a little for me to get to them. thank you to @ladyamaya (sorry it’s not letting me tag you :() for requesting this. sorry it took so long. also, sorry if this sucks :)

#Zuko #ba sing se #zuko x you #zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #sokka #katara #aang #toph #iroh #zuko angst #zuko fluff #bad makeout scene sorry

[ziaxkawaii]

“Thank you...” (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Warnings: Cursing.

Summary: Bakugou is passed out so you carry him to his dorm.

Part 1  Part 2

-“God he’s heavy!!!” You grunted as you stopped for a second to get a better grip of the boy on your back.

-Currently you were walking back from the training grounds right before curfew, and you were practically dragging you feet across the pavement while you carried unconscious Bakugou as gently and lightly as possible. 

~You had his body on your back, carrying him in a piggyback style. One of his arms was thrown over your left shoulder and his head rested on your right one, while you held his thighs.

~Your muscles were sore from the earlier excessive training. Your arms and back were littered with burns and bruises, and your tired legs could hardly carry the weight of your body and also your friends slightly heavier body.

~He wasn’t doing any better though. He too had bruises and few tiny cuts from your attacks as well. And of course the obvious, he was out cold like a drunk person. 

~If you had to explain everything that happened just 15 minutes ago in a nutshell, simply you and Bakugou were sparing together in the school gym area and as you were throwing punches and kicks at each other, Bakugou had said something that especially got on your nerves and you accidentally kicked him in the back of the head a little too hard, and he was out like a light.

~Whatever you did, he wouldn’t wake up. You couldn’t just leave him there or wait for him to wake up since you had a curfew. So you opted to just carry him back to the dorms, and it was way harder than you thought.

~The 1-A heights alliance building came in to your view, and you sighed out of relief but also out of nervousness.

~What if Bakugou woke up before you could get him to his room and he gets angry at you for literally trying to help him!?

~This boy was full of pride and didn’t want anyone's help even if he needed it. So if he woke up to see you carrying him like some kid, you probably would have an extra bruise by the end of the night.

~You weren’t ready to be blasted all the way to hell just yet.

~Even so, as much as he seemed to act like a villain in some people eyes. You and some other people like Kirishima saw through his facade. 

~Bakugou just didn’t know how to connect with people since his pride was in the way and how growing up everybody basically worshiped and praised his stupidly powerful quirk and intelligence.

~It didn’t matter if a person is shy, happy, angry, evil or neutral, everyone needs someone to talk to and a person to call a friend. Or in Bakugou's case: an Extra.

~You were one of the people he ‘tolerated’. You and him would talk about topics that came in to mind, study silently or just bicker to each other about something irrelevant.

~It was nice in it’s own weird way. 

~People are kind of like a puzzles. Some puzzles aren’t as easy they seem and you have to learn to understand how to solve it before actually doing so. Or you could do both simultaneously, and enjoy the in betweens of the journey. 

~Bakugou was just a really hard one that tested your patience and your own temper.

~Even after all the headaches and insults that this boy threw at you, your friends and classmates. You still couldn’t deny your attraction towards him. 

~Hell, he was good looking, talented and passionate about what he does, plus he was such a softy on the inside if people took the time to actually observe. Goodness why did he have to be so perfect at everything! It was getting on your nerves!!!

~Still, you pushed your own thoughts aside and continued on with your life as normal. You were happy and your presence didn’t seem to irritate him, so you accepted the reality and were grateful of what you had.

~You walked up the small stairway up to one of the class 1-A dormitory doors and with each step you were almost shitting your pants when Bakugou let out pained groans as if he was gonna be awake soon.

~Sure you were friends. But it didn’t mean you weren’t at least a little bit nervous around him.

~You reached the front door and attempted to open the door while trying not to drop the male on your back. You pulled down the handle, only to realize it’s locked.

~”Fuck…” You cursed silently.

~You did have your keys, you always do. But they were in your back pocket, and your were in no position to get them unless you wanted to wake up your friend and face his wrath.

~You tried awkwardly knocking on the door with your foot and knee, but it didn’t work too well. You took the risk and knocked on the door like a human being and quickly retreated it back to hold Bakugou's other leg.

~After a few moments, you heard movement from the inside and the door opened soon after. You were met with a blond haired teen whose quirk reflected in his hair as a form of a black lightning bolt. 

~Kaminari looked at you two for a second before stepping aside and opening the door wider, allowing you to get in. 

~”Just what were you two do-?” He began but you caught him off as you stepped inside.

~”It’s definitely not what you may think, so don’t even say it.”

~”Then what-” The poor boy was caught off again, but by Kirishima.

~”Whoa… what happened to Bakubro? He Is totally out of it!” Kirishima came out of nowhere and started gently poke Bakugou's cheek to see if what he said was actually real.

~”Don’t wake him up!” You whisper shouted. All the commotion had got some students attention in to common area and it was getting kinda embarrassing when you thought about it from their perspective. “I don’t want to be his next punching back, so can you please quiet down.”

~”Okay okay, but back to what I asked, what happened?” You sighed.

~”Long story short. We were sparing and I accidentally kicked him in the head hard.” You explained. “He should be fine.” At least you hoped he was fine.

~”Wow, well this is a first! Nobody's ever been able to get that kind of hit at Bakugou! I think you deserve a metal.” Mina elbowed you lightly in the arm as a testing manner. 

~Seriously. The bomb is bound to explode soon if your classmates don’t keep it down.

~”Guys, let’s just get him to his room, QUIETLY before he-” It was too late. Bakugou began stirring in his sleep and let out more pained grunts. Your friends all held their breath as they realized they might’ve messed up, while you were just standing there with sweat forming on your forehead.

~’Please don’t be mad…’ You prayed. And as if the spirit heard you, Bakugou in fact didn’t wake up but was half asleep, and mumbling gibberish in your shoulder.

~You mouthed “Let’s just go.” to Kirishima and he nodded. You began to move again but stopped abruptly as you felt an arm snake around your torso and a second one hug your neck. Everyone present watched the scene in awe as Bakugou clung to you like a child to a stuffed animal.

~”So… soft…” He mumbled in your neck.

~You blushed profusely while some people around you gave either shocked or smirking faces. The latter was more prominent.

~Oh, you were in deep now.

~You and Kirishima swiftly rode the elevator up to the correct floor and Kirishima opened Bakugou's door to let you carry him inside.

~”So… warm…” Bakugou kept on mumbling again but seemed like he still hasn’t woken up, or enough so to remember anything after today, at the very least.

~”Okay, it’s time to rest now Bakugou. Let go.” You said as you walked over to the said boys bed and sat on it. Kirishima helped you pry Bakugou’s limbs off of you and you were finally free. You went to get up but you were stopped midway when a hand grabbed your wrist.

~”Where… you going…?” Bakugou whispered with his eyes closed.

~Is this the same Bakugou you’ve gone to school with and hung out on your free time? Because in any other case where you would have found him like this from somewhere, you would’ve been convinced this Bakugou was a decoy. Or...

~”He kinda reminds me of a drunk person.” Kirishima boldly blurted out.

~’Or that…’ You would have laughed but right now it felt wrong to do so, so you just ended up nodding that you were thinking the same thing. 

~Before you two actually left the common room, Kirishima had grabbed a cold gel pack from the freezer to press on the injured boys head. He stepped closer and pressed the pack carefully on the spot you pointed out. The blond boy hissed a bit but didn’t wake up, let alone let go of your hand.

~”Do you think he’s going to be alright?” Kirishima asked next to you.

~”I don’t think this will cause anything critical. I didn’t kick him that hard but surely enough to form a bump.” You explained. “Plus, he’s been really tired lately for some reason, so he’ll probably sleep in tomorrow. I’ll take him to recovery girl tomorrow just in case. Hell, I’ll even drag him there if he wont cooperate.”

~”If you say so, and thanks for caring for him.”

~”He’s my friend too you know. Of course I would care for him.”

~”Yea, but I just said it so that you would at least get a ‘thank you’. You know how he is.” The crimson haired boy motioned to the ash blond.

~”I know.”

~”.....” Bakugou groaned and mumbled something coherent again and it got both of your attention. He pulled on your wrist for you to get closer and you complied, shifting a little closer so you could hear what he had to say.

~”Thank you… babe...” He said and let his head fall onto his pillow, at last getting some precious sleep. You became a blushing mess while Kirishima did his damn hardest to not laugh too loudly, so he resorted to snickering like some spray window cleaner bottle.

~”Wha -What did he just-!!” You whisper shouted, not knowing how to react.

~”I knew it…” Kirishima whispered to himself proudly. He may be a bit weaker in school but he was an expert when it came to knowing his friends and peers.

~You gently but swiftly untangled Bakugou's fingers from your wrist, stood up to pull his blanket over him so he wouldn’t get cold and left the room in a hurry with Kirishima trailing right behind you.

~The said boy was still snickering while you hid your red face in your hands. You already felt embarrassed from the comment alone but Kirishima being there made it two times worse. 

~’I’m so dead.’

~”Please, don’t tell the others Kiri.” You pleaded. The red head smiled.

~”My lips are sealed (y/n).

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #x reader #xreader