#shaking i just want to be Known and Understood without feeling like a burden

[totaly-obsessed]

Big Shoes to fill

Leah Williamson x reader request

pt. 1 here

-> Leah invites her struggling sister to live with her in London, where they support each other through healing and new friendships.

-> A very late pt.2. Please let me know what you think of it! If ya'll are interested I could make a pt.3 of reader meeting the team.

-> Just tagging you guys because you asked for a pt.2 in the comments of pt.1: @the-nameless-queen, @the-hottest-avenger-loves-soccer, @abcdefghijklmmopkrstuvwxyz

-> also a very big thank you to @alotofpockets and @greynatomy who read over it for me and helped with ideas - much love!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Leah sat there, stunned by the weight of her sister's words. She had always known that things weren't easy for you, but she never imagined the extent of the struggles you faced. The guilt of not being there for her little sister when she needed her the most washed over the footballer like a tidal wave.

"I'm so sorry, Bug," Leah whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea you were going through all of this alone."

You shrugged, trying to downplay the situation, ignoring the shame that showed in the redness of your face. "It's okay, Lee. I didn't want to burden you with my problems."

Leah shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "No, it's not okay. I should have been there for you. I should have noticed. I'm supposed to be your big sister, for God's sake."

You reached out and took Leah's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're here now, that's what matters."

Leah sniffled, trying to compose herself. "I promise, things are going to change. I'll talk to Mom and Dad, and we'll figure this out together."

You managed a small smile, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long while. "Thanks, Lee. "I appreciate it."

Leah pulled you into a tight hug, holding onto you as if she never wanted to let go. "I love you, Bug. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

And in that moment, as the rain continued to fall outside, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you wouldn't have to face them alone. With Leah by your side, you felt stronger than ever before. And together, you were ready to take on whatever life threw your way.

When she was back in London and your parents were home again,  Leah couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility that weighed heavily on her shoulders. She knew she couldn't let her sister continue to struggle alone, not when she finally understood the depth of your pain. After numerous conversations with her parents, Leah made a decision.

"Bug, I want you to come live with me in London," Leah said one evening when you were staying with her after watching an Arsenal game, her voice filled with determination.

You blinked in surprise, not expecting such a sudden idea. "But what about Mom and Dad? Won't they be worried?"

Leah shook her head. "They understand, they want what's best for you, and right now, that means being with someone who can support you fully."

A mixture of emotions washed over you, uncertainty mingled with relief. The thought of leaving your childhood home was daunting, but the prospect of starting fresh in a new environment with your sister by your side was undeniably appealing.

"I don't know, Leah. What about your life here? Your career?" you asked, concerned about uprooting your sister's life for your sake.

Leah smiled reassuringly. "My career doesn’t need to stop. You're my family, and family comes first. Plus, I could use some company in this big old house of mine."

Unbeknownst to you, she actually wasn’t all that alone in her house, a certain brunette spent most of her time there as well.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the depth of Leah's love and sacrifice for you. "Thank you, Leah. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Leah pulled you into a warm embrace, holding you close. "You'll never have to find out, Bug. We're in this together."

And so, with the support of your parents and the unwavering love of your sister, you packed your bags and prepared to embark on a new chapter in London. As you looked out the window of the car, watching the familiar scenery of your hometown fade into the distance, you felt a sense of excitement and anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead with your sister by your side.

Things were finally looking up.

—

Leah steered her car through the familiar streets of London, eventually turning onto a quieter road lined with rows of cozy houses. The neighborhood exuded a sense of tranquility, a stark contrast to the bustling city center. As Leah parked the car in the driveway of her quaint home, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you.

Stepping out of the car, you stretched your limbs and took in the familiar surroundings. Leah's house, though not extravagant, emanated a sense of warmth and comfort that immediately put you at ease. The exterior was adorned with climbing ivy and cheerful flower beds, adding a touch of charm to the neighborhood.

With your bags in hand, you followed Leah up the front steps and through the front door. The air inside was filled with the comforting scent of your sister and well-loved furniture that you remember from her old room. The living room greeted you with plush couches arranged around a cozy fireplace, inviting you to sink into their embrace.

It’s surprisingly tidy here, but you could make out two empty cups on the coffee table, an arsenal sweatshirt with a 13 on it, and so many sneakers by the door, that they couldn’t just be Leah’s.

"Here we are," Leah said, turning to you with a smile. "Home sweet home."

You returned her smile, feeling a sense of gratitude for the familiar surroundings. "It's perfect, Leah. Thank you for inviting me."

Leah's smile widened as she led you through the house, showing you to your temporary room. The space was simple but inviting, with a comfortable bed and a large window overlooking the lush backyard. Of course, a little goal was set up. Was this even Leah’s home if there was no goal?

—

The first day with Leah was a whirlwind of emotions and new experiences. As you woke up in her cozy home, sunlight filtering through the curtains, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the warmth and comfort of your surroundings. This felt more like home than the place you had grown up in.

Downstairs, Leah greeted you with a warm smile and a hearty breakfast (the only thing she was confidently able to make), eager to show you around her neighborhood and introduce you to her favorite spots. Together, you explored the quaint streets, stopping to chat with neighbors and browse through local shops before getting a snack in a quaint little café.

With a “Lia always takes the croissant, they’re good.”, you had been convinced easily enough. And the Swiss was correct, the croissants were indeed very good.

Throughout the day, Leah made sure you felt right at home, regaling you with stories from her own adventures in the city and sharing her favorite memories of growing up together. With each passing hour, you felt more and more at ease in your sister’s company, grateful for her unwavering support and understanding.

As the day drew to a close, you found yourself curled up on the couch with Leah, sipping hot tea and sharing laughs over stories of her teammates. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your sister, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

But it would not be life if things didn't get worse again.

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself slipping deeper into the shadows of your own mind. Despite Leah's best efforts to create a loving and supportive environment, the wounds from your past continued to fester, leaving you feeling lost and alone.

Trauma and abandonment issues weighed heavily on your soul, casting a dark shadow over even the brightest moments you shared with your sister. The memories of being ostracized and bullied at school haunted you, triggering waves of anxiety and self-doubt that seemed impossible to overcome.

Leah watched with a heavy heart as you retreated further into yourself, the light in your eyes dimming with each passing day. She tried to offer words of comfort and encouragement, but they seemed to fall on deaf ears, lost in the endless void of your pain.

It hurts to see you suffer, not knowing how to help. So she chose to confront you after talking to Lia in depth about it, not knowing what to do. She ended up seeking a conversation on how to change things, on how to help you. Together, you found a therapist who specializes in childhood trauma and abandonment issues, hoping that they could provide you with the support and guidance you so desperately needed.

As you began your journey towards healing, your sister remained by your side every step of the way, offering a steady hand to hold onto in the darkest of times. Slowly but surely, you started to unravel the tangled web of emotions that had ensnared your heart, finding solace in the love and support of your family.

—

When the new school year started you were deemed well enough to start at the new school. Leah had asked if you wanted to do online school instead, but both your therapist and you didn’t think that to be a good idea. 

The transition to a new school was daunting and filled with uncertainty and anxiety. You couldn't shake the memories of past experiences, the taunts and jeers of classmates echoing in your mind like a cruel refrain. But as you stepped into the halls of your new school, you were met with a surprising kindness that took you off guard.

The kids here were different. They didn't make fun of you or hurl insults your way. Instead, they greeted you with smiles and open arms, eager to welcome you into their midst. It was a stark contrast to the hostile environment you had grown accustomed to, and it filled you with a sense of relief and gratitude.

As time went by, you found yourself slowly but surely coming out of your shell, emboldened by the kindness and acceptance of your peers. You made new friends, shared laughs, and discovered a sense of belonging that you had never known before.

Leah watched with pride as you flourished in your new environment, her heart swelling with joy at the sight of your radiant smile. She knew that the road ahead would still be challenging, filled with ups and downs, but she also knew that you were strong enough to face whatever came your way.

When one day you came home telling her all about two new girls you met, she was so ecstatic that she couldn’t help but cry about it to the Swiss brunette who had a permanent spot at your dinner table. The blonde had refrained from taking you to training as of now, leaving you space to breathe and be alone. With that you couldn’t just call Kyra and Alessia your friends and call it a day, you needed your own.

—

After spending weeks bonding with Charlie and Mia, you couldn't wait to introduce them to your sister Leah. One afternoon, you invited them over to Leah's house for a casual hangout, eager to share your newfound friendships with her.

As Charlie and Mia arrived at Leah's doorstep, you greeted them with a smile and led them inside. Leah welcomed them warmly, offering snacks (that you had made) and drinks as the four of you settled into the cozy living room. They wanted to get to know the sister you couldn’t shut up about.

You watched nervously as Charlie and Mia chatted with Leah, hoping that they would hit it off. To your relief, the conversation flowed easily, with laughter filling the room as they exchanged stories and shared jokes.

"So, how did you two meet?" your sister asked, her eyes flickering between them.

Charlie, a vibrant and outgoing girl, grinned and began the story. "Well, Mia and I actually met in our science class. We were paired up for a project, and the rest is history."

Mia nodded, chiming in, "Yeah, Charlie swooped in to save the day when I accidentally mixed up my chemicals. She's been my lab partner and best friend ever since."

Leah chuckled, nodding in understanding. "It sounds like you two make a great team."

You couldn't help but jump in, eager to share your own thoughts. "They really do. Charlie and Mia have been amazing friends to me since I started at this new school."

Leah's eyes softened as she turned her attention to you. "That's wonderful to hear, Bug. I'm so glad you've found some great friends."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for your sister's support, and thanks to your therapy, you were not afraid to tell them. "Yeah, they've been really supportive. And it's nice to have them here with you."

Leah smiled, her gaze shifting between the three of you. "Well, you're all welcome here anytime. It's nice to see you so happy, Bug."

—

A couple of days later Leah came home from training to you making dinner in the kitchen. Instead of sitting down or waiting she stood in the doorway joking about your apron. Conversation in the middle of doing something was always the best.

As the conversation flowed effortlessly among you, Leah's eyes sparkled with an idea. "You know, Bug, my teammates have been asking about you. They've heard so much about my little sister and they're dying to meet you."

Your heart skipped a beat at Leah's suggestion. Meeting Leah's teammates felt like a significant step, a symbol of how far you'd come since arriving in London. The thought both excited and intimidated you.

Leah must have noticed the mix of emotions flickering across your face because she quickly added, "But only if you're comfortable with it. I don't want to pressure you into anything."

She knew that you had talked to most of them before. But it had always been brief and at the side of the pitch, signing a shirt for you and taking a picture. Aside from Lia, who had been at the house just the evening prior.

You took a moment to consider Leah's offer, the warmth of her support comforting you. With a newfound sense of confidence, you nodded eagerly. "I'd love to meet them, Leah. It sounds like fun."

Leah's smile widened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. "Great! I'll arrange a get-together with the team. I know they'll love you just as much as I do."

Meeting her teammates felt like the next natural step in your journey of growth and self-discovery, and you were ready to embrace it with open arms.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #woso community #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

[hellmouth-manor]

feste || olwin || ch4 body react

When Olwin is forcibly summoned into the funhouse, he sees very little of the body. Maybe he should be grateful for that. Maybe he should be grateful at the metallic scent in the air and the broken shards around him are too much for him to process anything else. He feels his throat begin to close up, panic welling in the pit of his stomach and traveling all the way down to shaking hands. 

He sees himself first—tens of hundreds of himself in each cracked sliver of glass, all wide-eyed and terrified as they stare back at him. He only notices Mirai in the reflection afterwards. It should bring grief. He knows it should. Instead, the sensation mingling with his panic is guilt. 

How selfish was he, that he could only see himself first, rather than the person who had so often tried to fade into the background? Shouldn’t he have known better by now? 

“I dare not burden them more than I ought to. It would.... not feel right."

"Wanting to exist around people doesn't make you a burden. It just makes you a person."

And try as she might, Mirai had never been able to really convince Olwin that she was a burden. He could see that she was just as much of a person as he was. He could see how she often fit herself comfortably into forgotten spaces, rather than trouble anyone to make room for her. He could see how often she carried other people’s burdens, so that she might not become one.

- i think you're a good rock

- I am not so sure, but I can try. And should you need it, I am here for you, too.

But she was a rock. For all intents and purposes, Mirai was a rock to more people than she might have realized. Someone grounding. Someone calming. Someone who was easy to overlook, but waiting there when you needed something solid to cling onto all the same. Someone who maybe preferred it that way—no one can call a rock they don’t pick up a burden, after all.

- lmao i think i’m a little past needing a rock. but the offer is very sweet!

- If you feel like you are drowning then I would like to offer a hand instead!

How many hands had she offered? How many reassuring pats, or soothing circles had her hands provided without him ever having needed to even ask for it? Part of him understood it as an act of friendship. The underlying, calculating part of him understood it as an act of self-preservation. No one can call a hand a burden when they’re the one being pulled up to the surface, after all.

-i'd probably end up dragging you down with me and that's definitely not how you want to go

-I do not think you would do such a thing! You are not a burden. 

It’s always so much easier to tell someone else what you wish you’d been told, rather than accept it for yourself. Maybe that’s what he’d been doing that day in the garden. Maybe that’s what Mirai had been doing, while they’d been texting, trying to figure out how to help anyone but themselves. No one can call you a burden, so long as you offset it with your usefulness, after all.

It's easier to focus outwards. Don’t look at yourself. Look at everyone else. Look at anyone else.

There’s a glance towards Ruby first, then Eli, and then finally Micah, but each one is promptly cut short as Olwin catches sight of himself in the broken mirrors and slips back beneath wave upon wave of panic. He can't help anyone here. He’ll only drag them down with him, just like he’d warned Mirai.

And yet, in the midst of his drowning, Olwin searches for a hand that’s never coming.

#ch4 #reaction #cedric

[dragonji]

uh oh im having an introspective night :fear:

#j.txt #felt not great starting thinking about how impermanent all of my relationships have been and how i dont know how to break that pattern 🙃 #dont get me wrong i care so much about the ppl im friends with but. my track record with meaningful friendships is abyssmal and it hurts lo #the person im closest to in the world to the point where i gen consider them my brother i havent really spent time with in 2yrs #i used to know him better than i knew myself and its. not fun to realize i dont anymore but obv im not gonna bring that up to him #and just thinking back i have 2 friends irl at this point and both of them ive known since high school so 5ish years #while the longest friendship ive had was ~7yrs and we just.. stopping talking and im so scared thats how all my relationships will go #i try not to make a big deal of it but im like. constantly and overwhelmingly lonely all the time and i dont know how to stop it #shaking i just want to be Known and Understood without feeling like a burden #just. hurts a lot rn i need to cry or sleep or something and hopefully ill be able to convince myself its fine in the morning #vent #dont rb #negative

[sixeyesgojo]

I’ll Be Your Enemy

Summary: Gojo Satoru is willing to do anything for you. As long as it helps you heal from what haunted your night.

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Word count: 2,019

Content warning: implied but unspecified mental illness, mentions of self-harm (scratching), mentions of character death

A/N: Kind of stumbled upon this masterpiece of a song and I thought it would be ideal for some Gojo HURT. This entire thing takes place after the Cursed Womb Arc, so to say: after Yuji dies.

Song: Be Your Enemy by Taemin ft. Wendy

PREQUEL HERE: Pictures of You

Quickly, quickly. The key was inserted into the keyhole and turned. The door lock clicked faintly, signaling that the door has been unlocked. Satoru made sure to open and close the door softly as he entered the familiar apartment. Putting the spare key into his pocket, he slid out of his shoes. Usually he would have made some big noise to ‘announce his arrival’ but not this time. He left his shoes neatly at the genkan of the residence and slipped into the white slippers that always stood by the wooden door, an extra pair just for him.

23 minutes ago. “Hello?” Satoru had picked up the phone. “Gojo-san! Finally the call went through. I’m glad I am able to reach you now,” the voice on the other end said. “Yo, Ijichi, what’s up?” Satoru greeted. He had been sent to a pretty rural area of Japan to get rid of some pesky curses and the cell phone reception was poor in that place, so it wasn’t surprising that calls didn’t go through at times. In addition to that, some curses that manifested had an electrical ability, which impaired the cell towers at place even more. Almost as if planned. “Gojo-san, I think you need to come back as fast as you can,” the man with glasses on the other end of the line stated calmly. “Why?” was the only thing the white-haired sorcerer said in response. Somehow, he had a strange feeling in his gut. The tone in Ijichi’s voice didn’t do anything to calm this odd feeling either.

“It’s L/N-san. Something horrible happened and I don’t think she is taking it well. I did my best to calm her but I’m at wits’ end too…” Ichiji explained vaguely. Satoru was experiencing a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time - his stomach churned, it felt like his guts were wrenching inside him - at the mention of your name. “Ijichi,” he said in a relatively calm voice. He was lucky his voice wasn’t betraying him by showing what he truly felt in that moment. Satoru’s feet were set in rapid motion. “Stay calm. I need you to explain to me what exactly happened.”

Gojo Satoru might be many things. A tease, a teacher (supposedly), a cruel man, a strong sorcerer, a crazy coach, a walking menace to some, protective, an inspiration to a handful, a venti-sized manchild, idiotic, a sweets maniac, a lifelong student to Yaga, playful, a pillar of the Jujutsu world… but most importantly, he was a caring person. This goes without saying for his students and especially his loved ones. What Ijichi just said on the phone had left his heart stinging in his chest. He was in the kitchen, leaving the bag he brought with him on the table.

“Alright. I will tell you what happened, Gojo-san.” “I am listening.” “I am not sure if you are aware that this happened,” the suit-clad man began, “but one of the missions that was originally assigned to you - a case of utmost priority of a cursed womb - was suddenly taken off of your pile and reassigned…” Satoru’s eyes narrowed underneath the black fabric. The beginning already left a bad taste in his mouth; missions assigned to him were usually first grade or even special grade and he knew all too well that there were nowhere enough first grade, let alone special grade, sorcerers around. So who had it been assigned to? “...to your three first-year students,” Ijichi finished with a sigh. The sickening hotness of rage filled Satoru’s whole body. Already having realized the scenario that must have taken place, he still asked for confirmation, “What grade?” “...Special grade. One casualty.” The picture that you had taken of him, his first years and yourself (so carefully hung up on your wall at home) flashed in front of his inner eye. He clenched his teeth so hard as he wordlessly hung up; it hurt. It hurt so badly.

Such an atrocious inhumane act coated in malice. He was going to kill these dirty-playing bastards. However, that would have to wait until later. Much later. Satoru couldn’t leave you to your own devices, not in this state. The scenario he concluded for himself earlier replayed in his mind several times as he made his way through your completely dark apartment. His heart stung with each beat. It was almost as if someone drove a blade through his chest repeatedly.

When he stood in front of the closed door of your bedroom, he heard soft sobs coming from inside. Should he knock to let you know someone came? He wasn’t sure what to do. He gave the door two soft knocks and entered the room. It was your hunched form on the bed, no doubt. Satoru could not see your face with the way your back was facing him. Slowly he made his way to your bed and crouched down to face you. Your face was swollen and tear-stained, a sight he didn’t see often. His large hand rested on your shoulder and gently rubbed it, a silent question hung in the air.

Finally, you looked at him with your swollen eyes. Almost instantly, your sobs got louder and you reached out for the tall sorcerer. “S-Satoru…” you hiccuped in-between sobs. “Yeah. I’m here, I’m here,” he reassured you and stroked the wet hair out of your puffy face as you threw yourself around him, relentlessly crying into his broad shoulders. The white-haired man enclosed his arms around you but it wasn’t to hug you for comfort.

He scooped your delicate frame up and wrapped a warm blanket around you before leaning your body against the headboard of the bed. He sat next to you on the bed and guided your head onto his shoulders. Your violent sobbing stopped but tears were still flowing freely. 

If there was someone who understood the agony, bitterness and distress someone in this line of work had to face, it was Gojo Satoru. The path of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was painted black and red by trials and tribulations. This was why Satoru was so hell-bent on resetting the world he called his obligation. “If you feel exhausted, just lean on me for a second,” his calm voice sounded through the room. There was no answer from you. Even if there was silence, your feelings reached his heart and he spoke again. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked gently. Let it go with me. It’ll be easier to shake this burden off and share it, he thought. Of course, he would never dare force you. You nuzzled into his shoulder, as if to get even closer physically.

Ultimately, the woman sucked in a breath and with a shaky voice and recounted everything in her point of view. “I-I.. was on a mission when I… got a call from Ijichi. ‘Something wasn’t right’, he said and… t-told me about the cursed womb. As soon as I heard… that they sent y-your students there, I rushed to the location but…”, you hiccuped, “...I was too late… Y-Yuji, he-” You sobbed hysterically into his shoulder. Satoru turned to you to wipe away the tears and snot with a tissue. “Shhh, I’m here, I’m here”, he reassured once again, “I’ll fix it somehow.” It was just as he thought: those damned higher ups.

“H-How? This is not… something… you can f-fix, Satoru… not even you,” you continued bawling into his shoulders. I’ll kill all the higher ups, he thought to himself. “I don’t know but I’ll be damned if I can’t do something to change this detestable, loathsome and bloody world we live in,” his voice seethed with anger but it quickly died down as he re-focused on the main topic at hand, “there has to be something I can do, I’ll even drag out Sukuna myself if I have to.” “Please, Satoru…” Your whisper was faint and weak, “I… saw Yuji’s corpse... on the ground... I just want to see him one last time…”

Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer undoubtedly put a heavy strain on your mental wellbeing; nobody was spared from it, not even the great Gojo Satoru. Unfortunately, you were one of the people who were much more affected by incidents like these. He realized how badly it hurt your heart, he knew how much all the students meant to you and he knew just how much more fragile you were than you let on in front of other people. Where there is light, there must be shadow. It wasn’t like he was left unscathed by it either but right now, his utmost priority was you.

“Right,” the male sorcerer murmured more to himself. He still had to check something. “I want you to show me your arms, please.” If this had been a command, it had to be the gentlest one you had ever heard. Maybe it was the fact that there was a hint of pain infused in the way he spoke to you just now that made you show your arms so willingly, or maybe it was the fact that he always sounded so earnest when he took care of you like this. He genuinely cared; it was something you shouldn’t be surprised about, considering how long the two of you have known and cared for each other, but it never ceased to leave you in awe. You held out your arms for him to see.

As carefully as possible, the man examined your arms, his touch ghosting over your skin. It was a good thing he came prepared. The angry red lines, dry blood and broken skin on both of your forearms seemed to scream at him: you hurt yourself again. Without a doubt, he felt guilty. “I’ll be right back,” he announced as he slipped away from the bed after fixing your position and stroking your hair tenderly. A few moments later, your tall friend was back with a few medical supplies. Sitting back on the bed, he started to clean and treat your injuries. Besides a few hiccups and whimpers from your side, silence befell the room.

“Don’t you want to curse and insult me?” His eyes were still fixed on bandaging your arms. “No,” was all you said in response, fearing that your voice would give in. “You should though. After all, it was technically my fault...” Even though you were hurting, you knew Satoru was hurting all the same deep down in his heart, seeing that his precious students were the victims in this case. Satoru really treasured disciples. You took a few deep breaths before you replied, “Please don’t ever blame yourself for this… I know you wouldn’t have… let this shit happen. I know how much you adore them.”

“If it makes you feel better... if it can help you heal, I’ll take it. Any words are fine. I can deal with all the painful words…” Strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you to his chest. It was rare but his voice… unmistakably cracked for a second. A shaky chuckle left your lungs, “Please Satoru,” you wrapped your arms around him as well and nuzzled into his shirt again, “I could never treat you like that. You are everything to me but an enemy. Have always been.”

“I’ll be anything you need. I’ll even be your enemy if you ask me to… so please tell me, so that it doesn’t hurt you anymore…” he said shakily. The blindfolded man had masked his pain up until now, for your sake. It was your time to comfort him. Giving him shelter, like he had done for you. He had already experienced far too much hurt.

“Satoru, all I’ll ever need you to be in my life… is the important and comforting presence you have always been. Don’t change. If things are too much, too overwhelming and you become tired, you can lean on me too. I will never leave you.”

There was nothing left to say, no need. It was enough for both of you to be in each other’s comforting presence.

Taglist: @gojos-mochi​ @megumifushi @bleueluna

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #angst #gojo satoru angst #song fic #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jjk #tw: death #tw: mentions of death #tw: mental illness #tw: self harm #taemin #inspired by taemin #shinee #ibye series

[chifuyuzu]

leap of faith — sano manjiro x reader.

word count — 1.3k.

genre — fluff fluff fluff, i love sweet mikey.

contains — cursing, timeskip SPOILERS present, reader is gender neutral.

description — sano manjiro is in love with you, and he realizes how much he loves you at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn.

author's note — hey besties, this is my first published fic here, kinda short but mikey brain rot is heavy. i hope you enjoy this cute fic before i rip your hearts out with some angst in a few days :^) reblogs and likes are always appreciated! and please give me feedback in my inbox! hehe, enjoy.

“it’s late.”

you know. but you still wanted to hear the sound of his voice before bed.

“mm… i missed ya’, is that a crime?” your voice echos through the receiver, the sound of your duvet crinkling in the background as you shift in place. sano manjiro was a busy man. always has been, always will be. being the leader of a biker gang was never easy—let alone some “new age” criminal organization.

you didn’t understand why manjiro persisted to play this game of russian roulette with his life. but it was never your place to overstep, especially since this was his life. it was all he knew, all he understood. you’re not sure what he’s doing, or if he’s even allowed to talk on the phone at this hour, but you still wanted to hear him. just so you know he’s alive and well.

you hear him chuckle, the sound of his feet scurrying against whatever floor his sandals were clacking against. the background noise that accompanied him earlier has dissipated; you realized he probably went outside to hear you better.

“your crime is loving a fool like me way too much. don’t think you’re sane.” he’s right. you’re actually crazy for even pursuing him. there was a lot of push and shove in the beginning, both parties scared of being hurt and getting hurt. but you were always there, even when manjiro went through whatever darkness was eating at his soul.

“crazy for you.”

“corny.”

“you love me.”

a pause. eerie enough to send shivers down your spine. why wasn’t he responding? did something happen? did you smother him too much? is he regretting—

“marry me.”

… not what you were expecting. especially not over the phone.

“sano manjiro, did you just propose over the phone? what kind of shitty rom-com are we in?”

“is that a no?”

“... never said that.” you wanted to marry him. but you wanted him to put that lifestyle behind, for the sake of the family you might have in the future. kids, dogs, cats, etcetera. you wanted him to be in, one hundred percent. but you knew he was too deep into this world to run now—especially since he’s so well-known as the ‘invincible mikey.’ you still longed for a happy home with manjiro, and a normal life.

“maybe you’re right. it’s not my style to ask you this over the phone.”

“try again later. when you’re really ready.”

the gag is, he is ready.

manjiro hurries home, blond locks hidden underneath a thin, black hoodie. he’s shaking, like a pomeranian in the presence of fireworks. his hand meets the left side of his chest, back pressed up against the grey colored wall of your shared apartment as he slides down to sit on the floor. it was four in the morning, and manjiro was about to shit himself.

he gulps, eyes peering around for you, double checking that you were fast asleep before he makes a phone call. his fingers tapped the back of his iphone, impatiently waiting for the other caller to answer. though it was the crack of dawn, he still needed some moral support.

“mikey? fuck you callin’ for at this hour? haven’t heard from you in mo—”

“ken-chin. i’m proposing.”

a loud ‘flop’ rang through the receiver, accompanied by the bedsheets seemingly slipping underneath draken’s feet. it was a huge bomb to drop, especially when the duo has been separated for months on end. manjiro hears more shuffling, followed by a few curses. “you’re fucking lying. the one you’ve been one since—?”

“yeah. i’m crazy as hell. but i love them. head over heels. i’m a goddamn simp.”

“why the hell am i the first to know, man?”

“you’re m’best friend, even if i need to stay away from you. and, also… you’re not the first to know. i asked them already.”

“you WHAT? don’t fuckin’ tell me you did it some dumb way like over the pho— you did. you’re impulsive enough to do it like that, too.” regardless of how long it’s been, draken still knows and understands manjiro like nothing ever happened.

“yeah… not romantic. but i can’t see myself with anyone else. i trust no one else. but i… am…”

“scared? man, you’re the head of a criminal organization. ‘course you’re scared. you don’t want the love of your life… to get hurt…” his voice trails off and manjiro’s heart tenses even more. the memories of the past still felt fresh. all the people they lost in tokyo manji… could never be replaced. not in a million years.

but the living must live.

“i love y/n. never felt like this before. i’d quit everything. but i would have to make sure they’re safe and whatever future we have together is secure. i know i promised takemichi that i’d protect everyone and that future he worked so hard to save… but what about mine?”

manjiro really did sacrifice everything for his friends. being the type of person who carries everyone else’s burdens takes a toll on his mental. he felt selfish for wanting to leave it all behind. but maybe being selfish was beneficial once in a while.

“listen—”

“do you think i’m stupid?”

“mikey. you’re not stupid,” draken sighs, shuffling again in place. “you just want to love someone and be loved in return. nothin’ stupid about that. what is stupid though, is you proposing over the damn phone.”

he’s not wrong. it was a spur of the moment decision that could drastically change his life forever. but with you, he doesn’t care. as long as you’re his, forever.

“how do you think i should do it?”

“well. i guess, tell me some sappy shit. how do you feel about them, and whatnot.”

“i don’t think i could ever imagine me with anyone else. a lot of people have tried to grab my attention but i only have eyes for y/n. sometimes when shit gets real hard…” manjiro takes a deep sigh, fingers threading through his hair, tilting back the hood to let it fall onto his back. “i think of y/n and i remember that even in this shit world, someone is here for me. someone cares about me. they make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.

i have dreams ‘bout us, y’know? me and y/n… kids running around. a little mikey clone. pissin’ them off because we want little flags on our meals. going to the park and letting kids be kids. maybe i’ll teach ‘em at a dojo like gramps did for me and my siblings. maybe i’ll teach ‘em about bikes—with your help, of course.”

draken laughs, letting his friend continue his little speech as he gets comfortable in bed again. don’t think i’ve ever seen mikey like this, ever, draken muses.

“man, we can own a whole zoo if we wanted. chifuyu could hook us up, in secret, of course. still have to protect everyone,” manjiro is grinning from ear to ear, head resting against the wall. “i wanna grow old with them. honestly, i didn’t think i’d make it to my twenties. more so, i didn’t want to live past twenty-something. but now… things are different. wanna be old and gray. see grandkids terrorize our children. die together.”

the tension in manjiro’s chest has faded away, only left with warmth that only you could bring him. his free hand reaches into his pocket to fumble with a small box, snapping it open to reveal the engagement ring his grandfather handed down to him.

he wasn’t the marrying type. but for you, he was.

“that all? you sound good like that, man. make an exception and let us come to the wedding.”

manjiro wants that more than anything. his friends, you... all safe. all happy. but again, the fear creeps up. he doesn’t know what to do with himself if any of you get hurt.

“... how do i tell y/n that?”

“you already have.” your voice makes him jump, knocking the velvet box out of his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. his face pales, followed by a huge lump forming at his throat when he sees your figure emerge from your shared bedroom.

“i-uh… i thought you were a-asleep.” manjiro mumbles, earning a huge laugh from draken on the other side. he hears him say something along the lines of ‘my cue to leave. good luck. send me an invite.’

“i was waiting for you.” 

he’s sweating now, a small bead forming at the base of his neck. his phone is now at his side, the screen flashing from draken’s caller id to the lockscreen photo of you on your first date together, a few years back. your eyes zone into the box, though.

“i was going to do this… better. god, i fucked up, huh?”

you’re laughing now, rubbing your tired eyes before you join him near the wall, picking up the box. “what makes you think that, dummy?”

now he’s confused. you wanted him to ask when he was serious, but in his head, serious meant rose petals, candles, someone singing celine dion in the distance.

without a word, you slip the ring onto its appropriate finger, holding up to the small rays of sunlight that peaked through the window from the approaching sunrise. manjiro’s hands fly up to your face, holding his whole world in his hands. his eyes are shiny, on the brink of tears. you nudge your noses together, foreheads connecting tenderly. your hands hooked onto the hem of his hoodie, bringing his frame closer as you whisper a soft ‘yes.’

“yes?”

“yes, i’ll marry you.”

manjiro’s lips curl up into the silliest grin you’ve ever seen him sport, before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. now he’s kissing you quite desperately. as if he’s trying to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t a dream. you feel his words vibrate against your lips, “gonna make you so happy, i promise. i love you. i love you so, so much.”

“forevermore.”

“forever yours.”

#tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #mikey imagines #🌧 — cloudwrites. #bro i love mikey sm please

[mrslilyrogers]

All I have to do is Dream Part 3

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all.

Author’s notes: This is late and not as long as I hoped it would be but hope you all enjoy! There might be one more part left to this series and maybe an epilogue. 

Eight voicemails and twelve messages. Eight voicemails and twelve messages from the person you wanted to talk to the most. Everyday for the past few weeks since you left, he called. And everyday your hands itched to reach out and call back but you stopped yourself. 

“I love her!” 

His voice echoed in your head. Enough was enough. Your fingers kneaded your temples, trying to alleviate the headache forming there. It didn’t help that there was a dark gnawing feeling in your gut, something was wrong. You knew it. A sixth sense, if you will. It happened the first time your powers manifested. You had been eight then, in front of the television with your dad when suddenly, your heart started to beat faster, your breaths coming in short pants, and your forehead dotted in sweats; a strong sense of foreboding crept under your skin and ever since then, life had never been the same. 

That night, you slept in a restless slumber; trapped under a heavy spell while you watched your father as a young boy. You had no idea how you knew the man who carried you over his shoulders, who seemed so strong and indestructible to your child’s eyes, was this same little boy you watched. You couldn’t understand it, you were dreaming but it was so real. Every detail as crisp as if you had been there and witnessed it. It wasn’t long before it all changed, everything before you cast in a darker shade, the people around you in black, sliding apologetic glances towards the somber boy standing in between his grandparents. You started to break out in a cold sweat, you were at a funeral. The boy’s parents, your father’s parents, just died. You ran, screaming, your heart racing, trying to find a way to get out. You couldn’t stay here, you couldn’t. But the more frantic you became, the more everything jumbled, bringing out his worst fears and nightmares and all you could do was scream, helpless and trapped. 

Oddly enough, that was how you felt now. Despite leaving Steve for the sake of the both of you, you were trapped, helpless to the niggling thought at the back of your mind that something was about to go horribly wrong. You tried to remember everything Xavier Institute has taught you, you were a telepath and with it came a natural intuition you couldn’t ignore. A heightened sense of empathy and awareness. 

You understood people even when they barely gave you a chance to be understood. You still remembered all those times people ran away from you. Those you considered your closest friends, even your teachers, treated you as if you were the plague. Their thoughts filled with dread and terror while you desperately tried to explain yourself but the more agitated you became, the more you lost control. It gave you no other choice but to distance yourself from them, getting homeschooled and keeping to yourself as much as you could. Your father tried his best, you knew he did but he could never look at you the same way. You didn’t have to get into his head to hear his cries at night, worrying and wondering where he went wrong.

It wasn’t long before Professor X found you and invited you to join his school for the gifted. School for the gifted. There was a time you couldn’t say that without a roll to your eyes, how could it have been a gift when all it ever caused you was sorrow? The day it was finally time for you to leave the only home you’ve ever known, your father’s relief was palpable in the air. He never gave voice to it and instead promised to visit as often as he could but even then, you knew he wouldn’t have been able to keep up. He visited you less and less as time went on until your relationship was reduced to a couple of phone calls barely lasting five minutes long. 

That was why you learned never to get too close. You owed to the X-Men who you were today. They had given you a place to call home, somewhere to belong to. For all the years you spent at the institute, they were nothing but kind to you, encouraging you, helping you hone your abilities and to cope with the loss of your former life. They gave you a fresh start, a new family and it should’ve been enough and in some ways, it is. But there was always a part of yourself you couldn’t give no matter how hard you tried and so the moment you could leave, you left. You wandered on your own, occasionally coming back to visit and catch up before leaving again, never planting any roots. That was the way you wanted it, that way you could never get hurt. 

Until Steve.

He instantly broke down your defenses and what was supposed to be a one-timer mission turned longer than you would’ve ever dreamed. You would’ve been lying if you said you didn’t stay with the Avengers because of him. The truth was as much as staying with them was fulfilling, there was a part of him that called out to you. You understood him, a man out of his time. Out of place. All you’ve ever felt your whole life. His loneliness drew you to him like a moth to a flame. He never showed it, too proud to admit it to himself but you knew it the instant you met him. He was untethered, burdened to continue on in a world he didn’t belong in. Your heart ached for him, for a man so lost that he only ever felt alive when he was at war. You tried to help him see the world with color again. “Ironic, coming from you,” you thought to yourself. But the more time you spent with him, the more your cynicism chipped away bit by bit until you became closer to the person you were before your abilities. Free to dream and love as you should’ve been. It was as if you needed him as much as he needed you. 

“Would you like a refill for that, honey?” the kindly old waitress asked, jerking you out of your reverie, her wrinkled face etched into a pitying smile. You shook your head and gave her your thanks, the dread in your chest intensifying once more. 

Look at where you are now, back to square one. 

You huffed at the tiny voice inside your head. She was right. Here you were, sat on a dingy couch at a diner in the middle of nowhere running from the people you loved the most. You looked at your phone again, the gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach screaming at you to do something. You should at least call Nat, you thought to yourself. You’d been planning to call her anyway even though you always chickened out. That seemed the safest thing to do for your sanity, make sure they were alright then you’d be on your merry way again. It was the only way to calm your racing heart, to get rid of that sense of foreboding creeping up at you and pulling you down. You could just be anxious, right? Guilt and shame of leaving plaguing you before you could truly move on. After that phone call, everything will be put back to rights. You’ll feel better, you keep telling yourself. Only your mind wouldn’t listen. 

The ringing on the other end of the line kept you on edge and when Nat’s worried voice greeted you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. 

“Y/N! Where the hell have you been? Steve has been looking everywhere for you! Do you know how worried we’ve been?”

You could hear the hurt in her tone and your heart broke at how you’d left things with your friend, completely forgetting about how she’d react when you impulsively decided to run away. But they were safe. At least, they were safe. Tears pricked at your eyes, you had no idea just how desperate you’ve become to hear her voice on the line, to know that nothing had happened in your absence and the stress of these past few weeks have just been taking its toll.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nat--” you broke off, your voice cracking from trying not to cry. 

“I shouldn’t have left the way I did but it was just too much, I had to leave. I couldn’t stay, not after everything that happened,” you continued, sniffing through it, willing yourself not to break down to your best friend on the phone in the middle of a busy diner.

“I know, sweetie. Steve told me all about it.” She sighed, sounding tired, before continuing, “You know I will never pick any sides right? I’ll support whatever you decide.” 

“Thanks, Nat. I knew you would, I never doubted you. It’s just… it’s been a lot to take in and I can’t… I don’t know how to face him if…” you trailed off, not having the courage to continue what you knew all along. It was one thing to admit it to yourself but another to say it out loud to another person. It made it more real. More final. You picked at the hem of your shirt, shaking your head. It was as if Nat knew what you were thinking, she gave another sigh on the other end of the line.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it now. But Y/N, he really does love you. He hasn’t been the same since you left and--” she immediately cut herself off as if she was about to say something she shouldn’t. You didn’t miss her sharp intake of breath before she continued, “You should really talk to him, Y/N.” 

“Nat, what’s going on? Are you guys alright?”

You felt goosebumps on your flesh. Rubbing your free hand on your thigh, you tried to calm your racing nerves.

“No, no, we’re fine. Don’t worry--” she replied instantaneously, reassuring you but before she could continue, you cut her off, relief washing over you. 

“Good. That’s good. Cause for a while there, I thought you were gonna say something crazy. I’ve just been having this weird feeling that something big is going to happen. But I’m probably just being anxious. Sorry, what were you saying?” 

“You really do have that scary clairvoyant thing going on sometimes,” you heard her laugh at you, teasing, but before you could say anything else, she turned serious, 

“Y/N, we’re gonna try to bring everyone back,” her voice was filled with hope and determination that it made you pause, your brain struggling to keep up. 

What? Did you hear her right? 

She started to explain their plan but your mind was already spinning. You immediately left the booth, slapping a ten dollar bill on the table. Your frantic steps heading into the direction of your car parked outside.

“Nat, Nat, hold on. What do you mean you’re leaving? Traveling through time? Is that even possible?” You slammed the door on your car, your voice hushed as if scared to even wonder, heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

If she really meant what you think she meant then they were all going to risk their lives for an attempt to bring everyone back. But who knew if it would even work? What if they got lost? What if they never came back? You didn’t give yourself a moment to hope. This was too dangerous. Too quick and impulsive. You needed to talk to Steve.

Before Nat could reply, you heard him call her in the background, his voice authoritative and resolute. They were ready. They were going to leave now. 

“Nat, let me talk to him,” you heard yourself say without preamble. There was no need to think it through, it didn’t matter if he hated you, if he wanted nothing to do with you, you just had to talk to him. 

“Who’s that?” You could hear him ask in the background, his voice far, his footsteps approaching. 

The moment he realized who was on the other line, the moment he saw your picture flash on his friend’s screen, his hand shot out frantically for it, scared you’d leave before he even got a chance to hear your voice. 

“Y/N?” he asked softly, worried you might suddenly end the call. You could almost see the look on his face, eyebrows furrowed, eyes searching and concerned. 

“Steve,” All the emotions you felt carried out in a single name. Regret, shame, longing. That was all it took before you broke down into tears. If you hadn’t called Nat, if you had let even one more day pass by, your last fight could’ve been the last time you ever saw him. 

“Is everything alright? What happened? Are you okay?” he was suddenly alert, voice booming with concern and just a little bit of panic. 

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine. Nat told me everything. Are you leaving already? What’s going on?” you managed to choke out, trying to regain as much composure as you can. You heard him let out a sigh of relief on the other end. 

“Oh, doll. Don’t worry about us. It’ll be alright. We’ve got it under control, I promise,” he sounded so sure of himself, his voice so soothing, almost as if he were caressing your back like he usually does to reassure you. You heard his footsteps again and the closing of a door, you assumed he looked for a place more private, quiet. This time, you wouldn’t easily let up. 

“You can’t promise that, Steve. Let me come with you,” you pleaded, exasperation in your tone. You surprised even yourself, your hands already frantically moving to drive.  You had no idea what came over you, had no idea what you were even really getting into. All you knew was that no matter where you stood in your relationship, you’ve been through so much together, you couldn’t let him face this alone. 

“No. Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous, Y/N. Just stay where you are and I’ll come find you when all this is over,” his voice brooked no argument. You could already tell how he looked like, his head shaking vehemently, feet braced apart, eyes flashing with determination. 

“Steve--” you started, voice rising in return but he immediately cut you off. 

“Y/N, listen to me. I don’t have much time but please, just this once, promise me you’ll stay where you are. Keep yourself safe until I come find you--”

“No way am I--” you spoke over him, your patience wearing thin, panic rising in your throat. 

“Y/N, let me finish. Doll, I don’t have much time. We’ve already ran simulations and this works. We’re gonna get them all back but I can’t do that if I think you’re in trouble so please, baby, just promise me you’ll stay put. It’ll only be a minute for you. Just stay where you are, please. I can’t lose you, love.” his voice verged on desperation, making you pause. 

“I know I’ve said some things I can’t take back and god, do I fucking regret them every single day since you left but I love you. And if this fails and I don’t come back, I need to know you’re at least safe. I need you to promise me that,”

“Steve, don’t… don’t talk like that,” you shook your head, not acknowledging what he was saying. This was unfair. Steve was never one to be pessimistic, he never showed any vulnerability before a mission and the fact that he did now made your heart ache. He had one goal and one goal only, he wanted to right what he perceived to be his wrong. He was going into this fully prepared to give his life to get everyone back. But for you, the stakes were too high. Who knew the dangers of what the past held? What if something happens that would keep him there? 

“Love, please. We’re leaving soon,”

You let out a huge breath. “Just promise me you’ll be back?” 

You could almost hear the smile on his face, could almost see his shoulders sag with relief. 

“Then promise me, you’d stop driving while on the phone,” he joked, trying to make light of the situation. He knew how you could get when you excessively worried about him. He didn’t even realize how much he loved it until now that your fussing was reduced to a phone call. 

“Steve, I mean it,” you warned seriously. 

“When have I ever backed down from a fight? And this is just an extraction mission. I’ll be back before you know it, I promise,” his voice sounded so calming, you almost believed it. 

Despite his downplaying, you knew the risks. Time travel? Who could even say they’ve thought this would be possible even in their wildest dreams?

“I’ve gotta go, sweetheart. I love you. I’ll come to you as soon as all this is over,” you heard the scuffle of feet in the background, heard F.R.I.D.A.Y calling out to him, and suddenly, you didn’t have enough time. You had so much to say, so much to apologize for.

“Steve, wait--” you started desperately, ready to beg for forgiveness. 

“Don’t.” he cut you off quickly as if already knowing the direction you were heading in. 

“There’s no need, doll. I love you, we’ll make this work. I promise, I’ll do everything I can to make it work,”

He sounded so sincere, so forgiving that it made your lips tremble into a soft smile.

“I love you too, Steve. I’ll see you guys in a minute,” you replied, trying to sound as lighthearted as you could when you heard Nat scream it to you in the background. You didn’t want to psyche him out with your worry. This was the mission of his lifetime, everyone depended on him. 

You tried to ignore the heavy feeling in your gut, the fear crawling up your veins. 

Something is about to go wrong. 

Steve chuckled, finally feeling a weight being lifted off his chest, finally able to hope again. This was the future he looked forward to. 

“We’ll see you in a minute, baby,”  

You hoped to God you would. 

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

Author’s notes: This was tough to write since everything happens through a phone call. I tried to capture the tension of the situation through that and hope I did. As always, let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! 

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fic #captain america #Steve Rogers

[eligaxy]

Wind

☆ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔭 : Venti x gn!Reader

☆𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 : near death experience, you’re confused asf about everything, bad writing cause i suck, spoilers for the we will be reunited quest!! And also for venti’s backstory, venti is serious for once (yes it’s a legitimate warning🤚)

☆𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 : Some angst, some fluff? Idk bye🤨

☆𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 : "It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask." (2.8k words)

♪𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 : i’m an idiot simp, i did this in one sitting and half asleep, english isnt my first language BLA BLA IM SORRY FOR MY POOR WRITING BUT HAVE THIS

basically you don’t know if you can trust venti or not, head says no, heart screams yes

Also, I was listening to stormterror’s lair ost while writing it, just because its fucking amazing, you might wanna listen to it too

I’m nervous to post this?/&:! This is the second fic i’ve ever finished in my whole life

i love venti and he’s hot in his god outfit i don’t make the rules

KAY ENJOY <3

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

Saying you were exhausted would have been an understatement. After reuniting with your sibling, you had been frantically searching for clues about khaenri'ah and ways to Inazuma. With no luck, you couldn't find any traces of Dainsleif or of your twin. The ruins had been sealed and you had no idea what happened to the inverted statue or the corpse you had found there. Desperately, you clung into every little information you had, you would have turned every rock on this archon damned continent if you had to, which is what led you into those ruins near Guilli plains.

Walking along the destroyed buildings your eyes caught sight of a dandelion and you froze. You missed them so much, why couldn't they go back home with you? All you ever wanted was to be by their side why, why were they running away from you?

You remembered your travels, the moments you shared together, their protectiveness over you, the fondness in their eyes when you smiled at them. You remember the times you got hurt and healed one another with your now missing powers. You remember sleeping by their side and being grateful to the universe to let you keep your ray of sunshine everywhere with you. How ironic.

What had they meant 'once you reach the end of your journey' ? What does that even mean? Stupid twin, if they knew you were here the whole time, why hadn't they come to you? Why were they always leaving just when they were within your grasp? Why? Did they know how much you missed them and how much your heart broke when you finally saw them? Did they?

You only realized you were crying when a small gust of wind had your wet cheek react to the cold, breaking your train of thought. Wind.

The wind is everywhere, you think, free as a bird, always accompanying every citizen of this world, never truly alone. With this in mind, you resumed your exploring, slower this time.

A sigh escaped your mouth. You didn't want to admit it, but the wind did comfort you a little. Almost as if he was here. God of freedom and of the breeze, he was more a singer than a protector and you couldn't bear to think about him. Was it true? What Dain said... Did he destroy this nation? Was he the cause of the scenery that still haunted your nightmares up until 500 years later? Your brain simply couldn't accept that Venti, your Venti, you catch yourself thinking, could have made such an act of wrath. He was the epitome of freedom, why would he take the very thing he based all of his existence on from mere mortals? Barbatos simply couldn't be afraid of being overpowered, he didn't even care about power. All he wanted was freedom and happiness for his people. Surley this couldn't be right?

But then again, who were you to deny the wipe out of an entire nation? The gods did it. They were afraid that Celestia would be overthrown by the pride of humankind, the destruction of khaenri'ah by divine beings was a fact. There was no misunderstanding about this. That was the one thing you were sure of. So why did you feel like crying even more now?

The mere thought of a gentle soul such as Venti committing innocent people to an eternity of suffering didn't sit right with you. Even when his dearest friend Dvalin had turned against him, he didn't try to stop him, didn't even ask the dragon to save him. He healed and helped him, gave him a choice.

'What is freedom if demanded of you by a god?' was the same person that asked this question the same one who committed mass murder? Genocide?

Did the little wine-lover bard you had grown fond of destroy all hopes and light your kin had?

You remember that night when he freed Stanley from his burden, freed his and his friends' spirits. You had marveled at his action, in that instant he was a god, and he definitely hadn't struck you as a murderer. You remember that look of silent pain and grief in his eyes when he sang the tales of the nameless bard he had taken the appearance of. You knew he trusted you enough to share his story, something so personal, you could almost feel the war that took down the tyrant of Mond. Oh how much you cherished that evening, treating him to some well deserved dandelion wine afterwards, his favorite, and asking him to sing you more about the time where was nothing but the spirit of a breeze.

Your heart broke a little, remembering his rosy cheeks and drunk smile, you wish you could talk to him, ask him what happened. What did he do, was he really as dangerous as you had been told? If so, then why did you feel so good around him? Why did you feel like you could give hi-

You stopped walking upon seeing a ruin guard up ahead in the distance. You're so stupid, you think. Feeling this way is not gonna get you anywhere, especially with how the bard had been missing for a few weeks now. Ever since you had last seen your sibling.

Where was he, where was he wandering off to? You walk towards the disabled ruin guard, not really paying any mind to it, still thinking about the god you longed to meet with. If you could see him, what would you even say? Would he even answer your questions? Why did your stomach feel so light and funny when you thought about seeing him, why aren't you angrier?

You're almost at the killing machine's level now, so lost in your thought you don't notice the five other similar robots hidden behind a wall next to it. You notice them only when it's too late and you've already turned them on while thinking about examining them and collecting their serial numbers. When you hear the familiar tick of the mechanism turning on, you internally panic and think about running away only to calm down moments later and think to yourself that you can simply beat it and take what you came here for. Even if you are emotionally and physically tired, you can manage, you think.

That was before hearing five other consecutive ticks right after it, and all around you.

Turning around, your gaze falls upon the small army of field tillers. Fuck.

Paimon wasn't with you today, you had asked for some time alone which she hesitantly accepted, so you couldn't ask her to go fetch help. You would have been worried if you had all your capacities but with the state you were in, you were wondering how you were going to survive this fight. You were alone, none of your companions with you, and deeply weakened by the busy day you had and the few hours of sleep you had managed to steal away from the night. Was it today you would meet your doom, with all your questions and uncertainties unanswered?

You tried your best to fight with the strength you had left, but quickly grew desperate after what felt like hours of efforts to swing your blade and being able to only take one monster down out of the six. It didn't help that you got injured along the way, their blows becoming harder and harder to dodge. After being thrown on the grown for the third time, you understood you had at least two broken ribs and that your shaking legs would soon fail you as well.

Fear crept upon you, you would die here today, alone. Alone. You couldn't talk to your sibling after all, couldn't understand. You didn't even get to talk to him one last time. Him... You would die without the knowledge of the truth about your bard. You would die alone. You didn't want that, you couldn't look death straight in the eye.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

In Mondstadt, there was a musician, a weird singer everyone had heard about at least once. He lived off of his songs and was mostly known for having a great story-telling and being an alcoholic.

The number of people who knew the true nature of his identity were few and he was perfectly content with that. He didn't wish to be a god anymore, his gnosis had been taken away anyway and it's not like he had any power over the city of wind nowadays. Even if his people still worshipped him as Barbatos, it didn't sit right with him to be called a god anymore. It actually never did, he thinks to himself with a smile, he never really took any responsibilities that came with the divine title which is why he was so weak today. But it didn't matter to him, his smile turns into a soft giggle.

Sitting on a mill that was once born from his steps he looks fondly over the city he founded. Even if they were godless, the citizens were still thriving and free. He cared oh so very deeply about the place even if he rarely, if not never, showed the affection within his heart. He remembers the day he grew strong enough to dispel the storms over his actual Mondstadt, and made the weather gentle enough so that there was no need for fireplaces. Nowadays, he loves watching birds nest into the chimney tops and seeing them found their own home. It gave him a sense of belonging like no other, not above his people, but walking among them and watching them nest into this cocoon he created. He was proud of what happened to his land and would do it all over again if he had to.

Especially since it led to him meeting you. This thought doesn't catch him off guard, you often roamed around in his mind after all, and it's not like he didn't write at least three songs about you and your feat, your smile, your courage...

Ah there he goes again, rambling about you in a whisper. He turns around to the statue of him his people erected in his honor, chuckling at how they never made the connection with his signature braids. His, but not really his, since he had stolen this form from someone who was much more deserving of this power than him. Seeing his friend being honored with the statues of the seven around the land made him happy, he hoped that it was a good enough thank you gift in return for everything that the bard whom he couldn't even remember the name of anymore did for him.

Upon gazing at the statue, he remembered telling you of his long gone friend. It was the first time he had talked about him to someone else, he didn't even mention it to Venessa, she who made him believe in himself again. He could ask himself why, but he simply knew that you had something different, more than meets the eye. Perhaps it was because you weren't from Teyvat, or perhaps it was just you being as simple as your natural self but he was simply and utterly captivated by your being. You inspired him to no end, at first he thought it was because he had never met someone like you and he loved new things! But as time grew and he got to know you, he understood quickly the meaning and depth of his passions. He thought of it with a light chuckle, content with your presence alone. He really did need and want you around.

So why did he purposely avoid you like the plague?

The wind had brought to his ears that you had met with Dainsleif.

And your twin.

His first reaction was to search for you, talk to you, he wanted to be here to know what happened! You had searched so long, he couldn't contain himself, still listening to what the wind told him, he started running with excitement but... But wait, Dainsleif was... He told you what?

Oh.

So you heard about Khaenri'ah. He had stopped dead in his tracks and turned back, only sending a warm current of wind your way, hugging you from afar.

He wasn't ready to talk about this yet, not ready to face you and absolutely not ready to answer your questions. He was a coward, he thought, running away like that but what else could he do, really. It was only natural for him to be as uncatchable as air.

A sorry excuse to avoid the fact that even if his past had marvelous story like the one of the nameless bard, it also had its share of darkness, something he wasn't ready to dive back into. Especially not now when your arrival has been shaking this world up like it hasn't been since at least 500 years.

But oh, how he longed to see your face or to hear your voice. So he asked a breeze to report to him what you were up to, and where you were. Just in case! he tells himself, what if you needed help ehe? But he knows you're competent and you won't need the help of a weakling coward like him anytime soon. Or so he thought.

Because when the breeze only gives him a few words back, his blood runs cold.

"Please, anybody... Just help me."

-

As you murmured these words in your desperate state, not really for anyone but yourself as a last resort, a prayer of some sort, you tried to stand by leaning yourself on your sword and failing miserably. You didn't dare look up as you heard the loud footsteps of the metal giants coming your way. It was over, and you barely managed to accept it.

As you rested your forehead against the cold handle of your sword, you closed your eyes, tears starting to make their ways out of your closed eyelids. All you could feel was remorse.

A soft breeze moved your hair slightly and your chest felt like a black hole had taken place where your heart used to be, regretting to not have been able to meet him under the tree at Windrise one last time.

The breeze quickly grew stronger, until it felt unnatural and you looked up from the ground, only to close your eyes again immediately when you realized the wind was too powerful for you to keep them open. If you had struggled to see though, you would have been blinded by the white light that soon illuminated the whole ruins. You didn't have enough time to register the situation when you felt a hand being laid atop your shoulder, snaking around your collarbones and pulling you back into... nothing? Another arm circled your weak form and a voice you immediately recognized said

"I've dealt with things worse than you, now crumble."

You realized that if you couldn't feel a chest behind you while still being embraced by his arms, it was because he was floating above you, and not standing behind you. A look in his direction confirmed your suspicions but what stunned you wasn't the fact that he was flying, but the attire he wore. Barely covering his body, a white set made of materials that seemed like clouds and liquid gold contrasted perfectly with his regular green clothes. His hair was glowing green and his eyes that were focused on the ruin guards up ahead had a marvelous shine that you had never seen before. He had that same aura he did the night he freed Stanley, but there was also something different about the way his hands gripped you a little too tightly or the way his voice sounded.

"Venti.." You muttered his name, relief and affection flooding you all at once, in his presence you felt as if nothing bad could happen to you. How foolish could you be, just a few hours ago you were speculating wether or not he had wiped out an entire civilisation and now here you were, being saved by him and feeling safer than you had in months.

"Close your eyes, I don't want give you a headache" he said, slowly floating legs first towards the ground. His unusually serious voice surprised you (and him) but you did as he told you. Letting go of your sword and leaning back into him, you let him deal with the monsters ahead of you.

"It's okay, it's over now" he kneeled to be at your level, his arms still wrapped around you, and you didn't have the energy to fight your urge of nuzzling into him. "I'll always be here for you, wherever there is wind, remember I'm here too. You only need to ask."

Being protected by a god really didn't feel that bad. Especially when you were in love with said god.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Thank you so much for reading whatever this is until the end :’)

Don’t hesitate to comment or reblog, tysm <3

Ps: venti loves u and so do i do pls take care of urself mwah

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin impact scenario #venti x reader #venti x traveler #venti x lumine #venti x aether #el writes♡

[cosmicjoke]

Ah, and now onto one of the most depressing chapters in all of SnK, chapter 132.

You know, if anyone ever needed a reason to despise Floch any more, how about the fact that he’s literally the reason Hange died?  If this bitch ass ho hadn’t shot the fuel tank of the plane full of holes, Hange wouldn’t have had to engage with the Titans to buy time for them to fix it, and they wouldn’t have died.  So, fuck you Floch.  I wish you’d suffered more before Mikasa finally ended your ass.

Well, anyway, what can I say about this chapter that hasn’t already been discussed?  Probably nothing, but I’ll try my best to give my observations anyway.

This really is Hange’s chapter, and Levi’s, in terms of putting a spot light on the importance of their relationship to one another.  

Hange’s sacrifice in this chapter is heartbreaking, it truly is, and such a major blow to everyone.  But to Levi most of all, and for so many reasons.

First of all, what stands out to me is the exchange between them, after Pieck tells Hange to stop being “gross”.  What I want to talk about here is when Hange asks Levi if he thinks their dead comrades are watching, and if he thinks they’ll be proud of what they do here today.  Levi tells Hange to stop talking like “him”, meaning of course Erwin.  This scene is just heart-wrenching, and part of that is, I think, because of Levi’s reaction to what Hange is saying.  He has, once again, such a weary, resigned looked on his face, and it’s because, I think, of the parallels he sees with Erwin.  I think Levi already knows, at this point, that Hange is going to die, in some way.  He recognizes the same, fatalistic bent to Hange’s mindset as he saw in Erwin, that day in Shinganshina, the same burden of guilt.  Just as Erwin began to bow and break under the weight of all the lives that had been lost under his command, Hange too is beginning to break, overcome by despair and hopelessness at what they perceive to be their failures.  Hange expresses this outright in the scene with Yelena, when Yelena tries forcing everyone to admit that Zeke was right, and Hange just resignedly agrees, saying that it was because of their failure to come up with a plan, because of their loss of hope, that Eren’s done what he has.  Of course, this isn’t true, just like Erwin blaming himself for the deaths of all those soldiers wasn’t based in any kind of truth.  But the sense of guilt is the same.  Hange blames themselves for what’s happening now, and they say this in front of everyone, including Levi.  And then Hange says what they do to Levi, about their dead comrades, and I think this must have been like the worst kind of deja vu to Levi, this kind of guilt driving Hange towards despair and hopelessness.  He tells Hange “Don’t you start talking like him, too...” because he can’t bear it.  He can’t bear to see his last, true friend succumb to the same fate as Erwin.

And then the Rumbling shows up, and Hange refuses for anyone else to engage with the Titans but themselves.  They tell everyone “I’m the one who led us here.  I pressed on, even at the cost of so many lives.  Time to face the music.”, and it’s Hange willingly taking on the role of martyr, the same one Levi had to help Erwin to accept for himself, in order to give their comrades a chance at victory.  Hange’s selflessness here is the definition of heroic.  True, unwavering conviction to what they believe is right.

But once again, similarly to Levi’s final push to help Erwin become the commander everyone believed him to be, Levi recognizes for Hange, in their final moment together, what it is they need.  He doesn’t try to stop Hange, doesn’t try to convince them against their chosen course of action, doesn’t cry out after them.  The same way Levi recognized in Erwin the way he was being crushed under the weight of his guilt, and understood how it would be a mercy and a salvation to make for him the decision to let go of his dream and die, Levi also recognizes in Hange that same burden and suffocating sense of guilt, and knows this is a decision Hange has made for themselves, their final absolution and ownership of their past choices, and that this is the thing Hange needs to relieve them of their burden.  A way for them to bear the burden of their past choices without regret.  Hange implores Levi to let them walk away and do this, and Levi does, because he understands, the same as he understood with Erwin.

But we finally see in full view the consequences for Levi in making these decisions, in letting his two, closest friends go to their deaths for the sake of their cause.  Levi’s expression in the following three panels is one of such unfathomable heartbreak.  He looks like a man utterly resigned to losing every good thing in his life, conscious and accepting of life’s bitter injustice and the grief of loss, but no less affected by it.  Levi is in so much obvious pain here.  Not physical (though obviously there’s that), but emotional and mental.  Hange is it for him.  They’re his last, real connection, his last, true friend, his last person.  And he has to let them go here.  Both for the sake of humanity, and for Hange’s own sake as well.  It truly is the bitterest pill to swallow.  And once again, it is a desperately heartbreaking display of Levi’s own selflessness, that he lets Hange go, that he lets Hange do this thing that needs to be done, without complaint, without protest, without influence from his own feelings, sacrificing once more what would be best for him for the sake of everyone else.  Levi looks devastated as he lays his fist against Hange’s chest and tells them “dedicate your heart”.  This final acceptance of his own, tragic loss, and Hange’s own choice to sacrifice their life.

And it continues when Hange flies away, at last, and we see Levi standing with the rest of their group.  Everyone around Levi has expressions of shock, dismay, and disbelief.  They haven’t yet accepted that this is happening, that Hange is flying to their death to buy them the time they need.  They look astonished and horrified.  But Levi is the lone exception.  He doesn’t look shocked, or disbelieving, but only continues to carry that same expression of weary, despairing resignation and acceptance.  And I think what we see in Levi, in this final arc is, in many ways, the culmination of a lifetime of loss and grief.  Levi’s lost more than probably any other character in SnK.  He’s experienced the most extreme forms of poverty and depravation from the time he was born, and with the death of Hange, has now lost every, single person that he ever formed any kind of close bond with.  With Hange’s death, Levi is left finally, completely alone.  And the look of defeat on Levi’s face throughout this entire arc is, I think, reflective of the affirmation he must feel, of the cruelty and injustice of life’s indifference to the suffering of everyone.  Every experience in Levi’s life has driven home to him the lesson, again and again, of the unfairness and cruelty of existing in this world.  And the events of this final arc, Eren’s betrayal, Zeke’s manipulations and cruelties, the deaths of so many comrades, the Rumbling, violence and destruction and allies turning against one another, and finally, Hange’s death, can only solidify for him the hopeless cynicism he’s fought against all his life, the awful comprehension of life’s brutality.  With Hange’s death, Levi is made to face once more what he’s always, deep down, known, which is that to exist in this world is to suffer with no purpose.  

And yet, still, Levi fights on.  He accepts Hange’s death with all the pain the loss crushes him down with.  He tells Hange goodbye, and asks them to “Just watch us.”.  Because even with the affirmation of all of Levi’s greatest despairs, he still finds a reason to make the fight worth it.  To realize the dream they all fought for, the salvation and future of humanity, and through the realization of that dream, to give meaning and importance to the lives of all those who have died in that dreams name, and meaning and importance to the lives of those yet still there.  Levi refuses, still, to give up, refuses to accept the futility and insignificance of people’s lives, even as he’s so ruthlessly reminded again and again of it.  And it’s in Hange, I think, that Levi finds that strength.  Because Hange also refused to give up.  Like they told Floch as he bled out, “We still can’t give up.  Even if we fail here, now, maybe someday...”  Maybe someday, life really will get better.  Maybe someday, people won’t have to suffer so much.  Maybe someday, there really will be a point to all of it.  Even in the face of total despair, Hange and Levi both found reasons to keep fighting.

Also, just some smaller observations about Levi’s physical state, and what it also says about his determination to not give up, but also about his perception of himself.

Levi is doing BAD here.  I didn’t notice this on my first read through, but when they’re all gearing up with their ODM gear, Levi is the only one sitting down on a crate, while everyone else is standing.  We see earlier in the chapter, when he leaves his room on the boat, he can’t even stand without the support of a handrail on the upper deck, or Armin’s arm around his shoulders.  And then when we see him testing his grip on the handle of his ODM’s blade, his hand is visibly shaking.  Levi’s physically too weak to stand on his own at this point, too weak to even hold his blades steady.  He must be in absolutely horrific pain.  Probably dizzy and lightheaded, probably nauseas even.  He’s FAILING physically.  On the verge, it seems, of collapse.  The fact that he’s even up and making the effort to move is something of a miracle, let alone that he’s prepared to engage in intense, physical combat, which just a short time later, he DOES.  That’s remarkable, and such a testament to Levi’s incredible will and unwavering conviction to fight for humanity.  He’s dying.  I think literally, he’s extremely close to death, genuinely frail.  But he still is ready and willing to give his all.  I think, over the course of the few chapters before this one, it must have been horrifically hard for Levi to sit by and watch as everyone else risked their lives to fight.  This isn’t something Levi is used to, being helpless and unable to fight for others.  He isn’t used to letting others take the risk while he stays back.  When Levi comes out of his cabin and Armin tries to convince him to go back to bed, Levi snaps with impatience that if he keeps resting, they’re all going to forget he even exists.  This reveals a lot about Levi’s perception of himself as someone who needs to make himself useful in order to matter.  As a tool to utilize.  He feels useless and like dead weight if he isn’t able to fight, and so, even on deaths door, he pushes himself to do just that, to become a weapon to be used in the coming battle.  It’s heartbreaking, to see Levi regard himself this way, even as it proves his incredible devotion and heart.  Once again, his own well being takes a backseat to the cause of others.  His health is secondary, in his mind.  For someone who always shows so much compassion and kindness and understanding for others, it makes it doubly heartbreaking, to see that Levi can’t manage the same compassion for himself, can’t give himself a break, or a pass for his weakness.  That he can’t allow himself that vulnerability, or for others to fight for him, even as all his life, he’s done nothing but fight for others.  

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #Levi Ackerman #hange zöe #snk 132 #meta #thoughts

[eliemo]

Love Our Way

Summary: Virgil knew he should have said something right there. But he didn’t, because he knew that would be the end.

Notes: Ace Virgil fic with romantic LAMP

TWs: Mentions of sex but no details. A little bit of internalized acephobia but barely, Virgil just has negative self esteem.

They’d been together a few months now and it had been, without a doubt, the best few months of Virgil’s life. 

It’d been a bit nerve wracking in the beginning, those first couple of weeks, as excited and thrilled as he was, Virgil had been extra paranoid about doing something wrong, about giving them any reason to lose feelings for him. 

He honestly hadn’t thought it could work at first. Relationships rarely worked out with two people, let alone four. Eventually they would fight, or lose feelings, or decide it was all too complicated. And things would get awkward and they could all end up hating each other and who knew what it would do to Thomas if they could no longer stand to be in the same room—

But they didn’t. By some miracle, that never happened.

Things were...things were perfect, as scared as Virgil had been to use the word. They’d been amazing ever since the anxious side was allowed to join their family, the love and warmth a wonderful kind of overwhelming he’d never felt before, but actually dating the people he loved more than anything, no longer needing to be afraid to express his feelings…

It was more than he’d ever thought he would get. More than he ever thought could be possible. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe it was real. 

They fit together like puzzle pieces, making each other stronger, pushing each other to be better, gentle and encouraging, coexisting in peaceful harmony. 

Virgil had never felt so welcomed, so surrounded by unconditional support and affection. They showed him just how much he had to offer. For the first time he’d actually felt like he wasn’t just a burden. 

It was hard, especially when it took a while to convince himself that he wasn’t invited into the relationship out of convenience, but because they actually wanted him. 

But they loved him. He knew that now. They all loved each other, flaws and all. 

And, well...Virgil should have known it wouldn't last forever. 

Not for him. Because...because that was just the way things were, wasn’t it? He’d made progress, he wasn’t the bad guy anymore, but he was still Anxiety. Things were just destined to go wrong. 

He really hadn’t given a single thought. It never crossed his mind as something that could ever be a problem, even when they had initially gotten together. No one else seemed intent on bringing it up, so Virgil had figured they never would. 

But then it had. Logan had brought the topic up about a week ago, somewhat awkward but still painfully casual, the conversation simply to discuss everyone’s level of comfort when it came to intimacy. 

Which...yeah, Virgil guessed it made sense. They were dating, the four of them happy and comfortable with their relationship, and had been for months now. So obviously sex was going to get brought up eventually. Boundaries needed to be set before...anything actually happened. It was routine for a healthy relationship. 

Except Virgil hadn’t actually thought they would ever talk about it. Because he’d known for a long time that he was asexual and he’d just...kind of assumed the others were too.

Which in retrospect, was a stupid conclusion to jump to. 

Virgil had known for years now, long before befriending the others. It had taken him a while to be sure, lots of research and panic and overthinking, but he’d eventually grown comfortable with the label. It was just another part of who he was. 

But he’d also never really understood why. Thomas wasn’t asexual so it didn’t make any sense for Virgil to have a separate identity. 

Unless it was just something all the sides experienced, none of them able to feel that kind of attraction.

But he’d never actually gotten around to asking. No one brought it up, and before the...development in their relationship it never seemed like something that would be an issue. So he’d just assumed, and ran with it. 

But clearly that wasn’t the case. Not when Roman and Patton were responding to Logan’s question with varying levels of eagerness and approval, comfortable and willing to take the next step when they were all ready.  

And Virgil knew he should have said something right there. They had given him the perfect opportunity to come out, quick and easy, and avoid anything uncomfortable in the future. 

But he didn’t. Because...because that would be the end, wouldn’t it? 

They would be sweet about it, of course. Thank him for being honest. But if he was the only one who didn’t want that...well, what was the point of him being a part of things? 

It was a cruel thing to assume, he knew that. None of them were shallow enough to see sex as something necessary, and he knew they would never force him into anything. 

But...but he already offered so little. They already had to jump through so many hoops to accommodate his anxiety, and it wasn’t like he was particularly loving or good at romance, as hard as he tried. As loving and amazing as they were, this could simply be the final straw. 

He wanted to be with them. He wanted them in every other way. He loved them more than anything. But he wouldn’t fight it when they ended up distancing themselves from him. 

Virgil just wasn’t ready for that heartbreak yet. So he plastered on a fake smile, and nodded along with the others.

 He’d tell them tomorrow. The longer he waited, the worse it would be. 

_

“Movie night!” Patton declared, skipping into the living room where Virgil was scrolling aimlessly on his phone. “And don’t think you’re getting out of it this time, Virge!”

Virgil tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted at the phrasing, swallowing against rising panic and sending Patton a smile. It was just movie night, same as every Friday. 

It had been two weeks now, and he still hadn’t told them. He’d managed to avoid last week’s movie night with the excuse of an upset stomach, desperately trying not to think about what they could be doing without him. 

And now...now he’d have to tell. They’d already be upset he waited this long, he couldn’t put it off any longer. 

Besides, they’d all be in the same bed all night, as they often were, relaxed and happy and enjoying each other’s company. They wouldn’t ever force him into something he wasn’t comfortable with, even if they wanted nothing to do with him after he came out. 

He’d lied, after all. He should have told them right away. 

“I'll be right there,” he said, forcing a smile as Patton made his way upstairs to his bedroom where the others were likely waiting. “Just...give me a second.” 

This was it, then. Hopefully afterwards, it wouldn’t be too awkward. Hopefully they would still be willing to keep him around as a friend. 

They were all waiting for him by the time he made it to Roman’s room, the three of them sprawled out on the bed in a pile of laughs and smiles, and Virgil’s heart felt like it was trying to break through his chest. 

He loved them so much. He wanted nothing more than to forget all of this and be held in their arms, content and warm until the sun came up. 

But putting it off wasn’t fair to them. And it wasn’t fair to him either. 

“Virgil!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil felt lightheaded at the fond, excited looks he was being given. “Come help us choose a movie!” 

He almost chickened out again, just for a second. But he couldn’t panic. Not until it was out in the open and he could deal with the consequences. 

After tonight, he could very well end up alone again. Isolated like a villain. 

Why did he have to keep turning out to be different? Why was he always meant to end up alone? 

“In a second,” he said, stopping just inside the doorway. “I...I need to say something first, if that’s ok.”

Their smiles dropped slightly, but their gentle, welcoming expressions never wavered. The three of them sat up in bed, scooting forward as Patton nodded. 

“Of course, honey,” he said. “What’s on your mind?” 

He was actually doing this. He just...had to figure out how to start. 

Virgil took a breath and stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide how they’d begun to shake. “Just to- just to get it out there to make it easier for you guys...I- I get it if you want to break up with me after this.”  

That got their attention, their heads snapping up with wide, wary eyes. Virgil couldn’t quite bring himself to look at them anymore. 

“I’m just saying,” he muttered, and god he was shaking so bad. “I’ll understand.” 

The silence only stretched on another few seconds before Logan cleared his throat. “We’re listening, Virgil.” 

Ok. Ok he could do this. He...really should have planned out what he was going to say first. 

“I should have told you right away,” he started. “I know I should have. It’s not fair to you guys and I’m...I’m really sorry that I didn’t. I wasn’t trying to...to lie or- or lead you on or anything, I just...love you guys. A lot. I’ve loved being with you and I wasn’t ready to...you know...ruin that.” 

“Virge? What...what did you do, darling?” 

It was passed off as a joke, the Prince forcing a small smile, but there was serious concern behind it. 

Virgil quickly shook his head. “It’s not...I didn’t realize that it would be, you know, an issue. But you guys want...you want someone who’s not...me. Because- because I’m…” 

Say it, just say it. 

“I’m asexual. And you guys...I shouldn’t have kept that from you. I’m sorry. I’m just...sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

And that was...it. That was it. They knew now. 

They knew, and they could react how they wanted. If they were angry, Virgil wouldn’t blame him. If they were disgusted and demanded he leave...Virgil wouldn’t fight it, no matter how badly it hurt. 

He knew them better than to truly assume that would be the case, but the thought was still there. 

Furious or not, there was no way they’d trust him enough to keep him in the relationship. 

But he had to hold it together until the end of the conversation. He’d escape as soon as they let him, and then...and then he’d readjust to being alone. 

Unfortunately, none of them seemed particularly inclined to answer, the silence stretching on a moment too long. He risked a glance up from the floor, hunching his shoulders when he caught Logan’s eye. 

“Virgil,” the logical side said. “Come sit down, please.”

He quickly shook his head, taking a step back. He didn’t need a long, drawn out ending to this. He wouldn’t be able to hold it together that long. 

“You...you guys don’t have to--” 

“Virgil,” Patton cut him off, scooting aside to make room. “Come over here and talk to us.” 

And he’d never be able to deny Patton anything, would he? Not when he sounded so desperate. 

Virgil moved forward on shaky legs, focusing solely on his breathing to keep himself from crying, ending up seated in between Patton and Logan, Roman pressed up against the moral side. 

“This doesn’t need to be a conversation,” he said, just wanting to get out. “I...I said I would understand.” 

Virgil jumped when there was a hand against his cheek, Logan suddenly cupping his jaw and turning his head until they were face to face, the logical side’s eyes piercing behind his glasses. 

“Virgil,” Logan started, sounding almost breathless. “How...on earth could you think this would end in a break up?” 

Virgil blinked, wondering if this was some kind of trick question. “What? I don’t--” 

“Darling,” Roman said, and the Prince was suddenly scooting over to sit in front of Virgil, the three of them surrounding him. “You thought we would leave if you came out as Ace?” 

Virgil shook his head because no, that...that wasn’t the problem. Not entirely, anyway. “It’s not...guys I lied. You asked me to be in a relationship with you and I didn’t say anything.” 

“You did not lie,” Logan said, never dropping his hand from Virgil’s face. “You just were not ready to come out yet. You and I both know there is a substantial difference.” 

There was a hand suddenly slipping into his own, and Virgil startled when he realized it was Patton’s, the moral side’s free hand now running fingers through his hair. 

“You weren’t comfortable sharing that part of yourself,” he said. “That’s totally ok, sweetheart. No one’s mad at you. I’m just glad you said something before something...happened.” 

Logan’s hand suddenly dropped, his eyes big and painfully worried, and Virgil had to force himself not to look away. 

“Virgil,” he said slowly. “You do not...owe us anything. Especially not something like sex. If we made you feel like--” 

“What? Jesus- no.” Virgil moved his hand away from Patton, pulling his knees up to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut to try to get a hold of himself. “It wasn’t...I just thought...it would be too...t-too much to deal with, you know?” 

They weren’t breaking up with him. They weren’t. He’d been stupid to think that. There was no reason he should still be so upset. 

He couldn’t make them feel guilty. He couldn’t make them think they’d been the ones to do something wrong when they’d been nothing but perfect. He couldn’t--

“Oh Virgil.” 

Too late he realized the tears had started to spill over, his face burning as he pressed a hand against his mouth to try and muffle any treacherous sobs. 

There was a pair of arms around him, warm and grounding, and it took Virgil a moment to realize it was Roman, gently guiding him into the embrace. He didn’t fight it, falling limp against the Prince’s chest with a pathetic choking noise. 

“S-sorry,” he managed in between sobs. “I’m sorry, I- I don’t know why I’m...I sh-should have told you, I- I thought you’d...I thought you’d run out of reasons to- to want me.” 

“We could never,” Roman whispered, holding him tight. Patton moved forward to rub circles along his back, Logan reaching out to squeeze his hand. “You’re beautiful, Virgil. And this doesn’t change a thing.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense. If one of them had come out, it would be different. But with him...there was already so much to deal with, so much they were forced to handle. 

Eventually, it had to get to be too much, right? He’d already figured they’d get fed up with the extra steps they had to take to respect his boundaries, Virgil always a little more wary when it came to being vulnerable. 

But they all sounded so...genuine. Princey hadn’t once loosened his hold, still whispering quiet reassurances, Patton was back to running his fingers through Virgil’s hair, pressing kisses to his free hand. 

And Logan still held on tight, counting out familiar breathing exercises just loud enough for Virgil to hear, always knowing how to calm him down. 

When he finally managed to calm down, taking in deep, shuddering breaths, he reluctantly pulled away from Roman, wiping at his eyes as he stared down at his lap. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I never thought...I wouldn’t have let you guys do anything. I was always gonna tell you eventually I just...kept putting it off.” 

“That is quite alright,” Logan said, sounding oddly hesitant. “But I...don’t think I could forgive myself if we had taken the next step without realizing you would not enjoy it.” 

Virgil nodded, forcefully pushing down the sickening panic at the thought. “I know. I wouldn’t have let that happen. I promise.” 

Patton and Logan both squeezed his hands, Patton tilting forward to press a kiss to his temple before leaning his forehead on Virgil’s shoulder. He allowed himself to lean into the touch, taking another shaky breath before continuing. 

“I’m...I am sorry though. If this complicates things.” 

Roman cocked his head slightly, frowning. “Complicates things?” 

“Yeah,” Virgil said, hoping he wasn’t about to refute every wonderful thing that had just been said. “We’re...in a relationship. And you all want...I mean, Roman you’re pretty much all romance, so I know you want--” 

He cut himself off, caught completely off guard when Roman started laughing. 

“Sorry,” the Prince said quickly, smiling at the exasperated looks Virgil realized the others were giving him. “Sorry, I just...gosh, Virgil can I kiss you?” 

Virgil blinked, mind suddenly completely blank. “I...uh, sure?” 

True to his word, Roman was suddenly cupping Virgil’s face in both his hands, gently pressing their lips together, and just like always Virgil melted against the touch, completely safe for just a single, blissful moment. 

When Roman pulled back, he met Virgil’s gaze, brimming with nothing but adoration and love. “Virgil, darling, you really think I see something as trivial as sex romantic?”

“I mean...yeah?” 

“Virgil, I love you. You, not...not what you have to offer. I love seeing you in the mornings, and holding you...I love hearing your voice. I want to cook you dinners and pick you flowers and sing for you. That’s romantic, Virge. Not...not something as small as sex. That’s not what’s important. Not to me.” 

“I, for once, am in agreement with Roman,” Logan said. “Sexual intimacy has never been of importance to me. It certainly does not hold enough power to damage our relationship in any way if you do not desire it. And it certainly has no power over my feelings for you.” 

Virgil was suddenly dangerously close to crying again. “I--” 

“Besides, there is no logical reason for us to engage in sexual intercourse. We are not human, so the need to reproduce does not--” 

Roman thankfully cut him off with a kiss, Logan making a noise somewhere between surprise and annoyance, but reciprocated without further complaint. 

Patton was suddenly taking both of Virgil’s hands, their fingers laced together, and Virgil suddenly wasn't quite so scared to meet the moral side’s eyes. 

“I don’t care about something silly like that,” Patton said. “I just care about you, honey. The four of us being safe and happy and together. If we all just cuddle and tell each other how much we love each other...nothing else could ever make me that happy. So don’t you worry about a thing, ok?” 

Virgil wasn’t sure whether he laughed or sobbed, but he was smiling back at Patton, at the people who surrounded him with unconditional love, and he nodded. 

“Ok,” he agreed, feeling lighter than he thought he ever had. “Thank you. All of you. I...I love you all. So much.” 

Within moments they were all tangled up in each other, the television playing an old comfort movie, Virgil wrapped up in Logan’s arms with his head against Roman’s chest, Patton leaned against his legs. 

It was still perfect, and Virgil had a funny feeling it always would be. He loved them, more than anything in the entire world, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind they felt the same way.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #lamp #romantic lamp #prinxiety #analogical #moxiety #logince #logicality #royality #polysanders #asexual virgil #ace virgil #sex mention tw #writing #fanfiction

[lambourngb]

a skeleton of something more [2/6]

previously here. malex wip fic. a short serial leading up the premiere.

spoilers for the trailer and promo, will be instantly AU. If I’m going to the trouble of writing a malex fix-it for the season 3 opener, why not fix 2x13 too?

**** THEN **** 

After Alex closed Tripp’s journal, he met Michael’s gaze across the table at the Crashdown. 

His golden-brown eyes were heavy with pain, the reminder of how his mother’s story had ended was still fresh between them despite the span of months since the fiery end of Caulfield. What had resulted in being the fiery end of them, even though Alex hadn’t known it at the time. The look of sleeplessness in Michael’s face reminded Alex, that outside of this small piece of Nora, he had the weight of Maria still in the hospital recovering from the pathogen Flint had released. The press of the Deep Sky ring in his pocket warred with the hesitation to place one more burden on Michael, would the abacus of their fragile friendship balance out?

He flashed to that last argument in Michael’s bunker, a disaster of his own making, thinking he could believe in his father, but thankfully harm was averted at Crashcon. That recent memory was motive enough for Alex to decide. Whatever happened next, he needed Michael on the same page with him.

As Isobel moved to leave the table, explaining to Michael that she needed to check on Max, Alex held Michael’s gaze deliberately. Then he folded his fingers down, until the last three fanned out in a downward W. 

“After what happened with Maria, maybe you should come with me, Michael. You can help me shake some sense into Max,” Alex heard, tuning back into Isobel’s voice. Her eyes moved back and forth between them, a crease of suspicion wrinkling her upturned nose, as she stopped on him. “It’ll be a good distraction.”

Without looking at Isobel, Michael’s eyes remained trained on Alex’s hand. “No, thanks, I’m good here. I’ve had my fill of stubborn ass people who don’t want to listen to sensible advice from me, so I’ll catch up with you later, Isobel.” 

She made a dismissive huff but did not argue, leaving with the barest semblance of a polite goodbye to Alex, but that was typical Isobel Evans. Michael waited until his sister was on the other side of the door, before speaking quietly, his gaze finally moving up from Alex’s hands to his face. “I haven’t seen you flash that sign to me in years.” 

“Glad to know you haven’t forgotten it.”

“You, making the ‘wait for me, I want you now’ signal? Nah, that’s been burned into my brain over the years.” Michael said it with a faint trace of bitterness. “I guess news travels fast, Maria only dumped my ass this morning.”

Alex winced and looked down, swallowing the surprise and spark of hope that welled in his throat at that disclosure. It was better to concentrate on the unique talent he had of stepping on landmines around Michael, than wonder about what had happened with Maria. It looked like he was still good at causing harm without intention, judging by the stung bite in Michael’s voice. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have-”

“No, I’m sorry,” Michael cut off his apology firmly with a wave of his hand, calling a time-out. Alex waited, his teeth pressed into his lower lip as Michael rubbed his eyes with a weary half-smile. “I’m being an asshole right now, and that’s not fair to take it out on you. It’s been a shitty day already, and — anyway, … you definitely know how to get my attention, Alex.” He tilted his head, self-deprecation on his face, “for better or worse, you’ve always been good at that.” 

It had been the sign they had developed whenever their paths had crossed over the years while Alex had been on leave in Roswell, but it had started that summer after high school. After Michael’s hand had healed poorly from Jesse, the last three fingers had been left frozen in a claw, it had been a shared fuck-you to his dad to use it to form their own secret communication. A three-fingered W, turned upward meant it wasn’t a good time, and he would find Michael later; turned downward, well, that meant it was safe to approach him, and it had often ended in a hurried blowjob in his car. Perhaps he should have used more care in using it now, but Michael wasn’t the only one running on the fumes of insomnia and stress. “Sorry, I needed to talk to you, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave with Isobel-”

“It’s fine, really. It’s not a bad memory either, remembering that we had our little secret language.” Michael wiggled his fingers in reassurance, his left hand still wrapped with a bandanna. “I can make that signal a hell of a lot easier now, too. But anyway, what did you need?”

There was still a voice inside Alex’s head that said ‘you’, no matter how long it had been. He shoved that down deep, along with his curiosity about Maria, and concentrated on his purpose. “Your advice on something, and then if it’s not too much to ask, your help.”

“Anything.” 

Alex blinked, nonplussed by the easy acceptance. 

Michael gestured encouragingly, “seriously, anything, just tell me what’s going on because the way you’re hemming and hawing, it is freaking me out.” Suddenly, all expression washed out of Michael’s face as a horrible thought occurred to him. “Did you get deployed or something?”

“Not exactly, not how you’re thinking,” he winced at the earned glare from Michael as he continued to stall while the words still tripped and fumbled around his mouth, heedless to the mounting frustration between them both. He sighed, and regrouped. Pushing the closed journal aside, Alex dug into his pocket and laid the signet ring on the table before Michael. “Let me start at the beginning, I found this in my dad’s things.” 

“Jesse never seemed like a jewelry kind of guy to me.” Michael picked up the ring, examining it closely with a sarcastic smirk. “Other than parading around town with that wedding ring, when everyone knows your mom left him back during the Bush years, Dubya that is.”

“My father is all, was all, about appearances.” Alex placed the photo of the group on the table, sliding it over to him. “That ring marked his membership in this paramilitary group called Deep Sky. Every man in that photo worked at Caulfield, at one time or another.” He tapped his finger over the face of his father, then moved it to the right. “That’s my dad, and that is Ricky Long.”

Michael frowned, pulling the picture closer to squint at the faces. “Wyatt’s dad?”

“No, Forrest’s.”

“Nazi guy? Seriously?” He rubbed at his chin, the stubble longer than usual painting his jawline. Alex dragged his eyes away with effort as Michael considered that information. There was a reluctant understanding in his eyes, having recalled that Forrest Long wasn’t just ‘Nazi Guy’ to Alex, but someone who had expressed interest in Alex. Personal interest. “I guess that’s something you guys have in common then, dirtbag dads.” 

He didn’t look thrilled to admit that to Alex, but it was a mark of how far they had both come as friends that Michael had said it anyway regardless. It was kind of him. It was the same type of empathy Alex had extended toward Michael, when he had expressed interest in Maria. Cut open, bleeding under his skin from all the ways he had squandered his own chances, he had said something similar to Michael once upon a time. That was what love was all about. Then he had kept saying it, until he believed it most days because wanting Michael to be happy was the easier ask.

It was a gracious sentiment that was entirely wasted by Michael when it came to Forrest Long. 

“It would be, uh, something to bond over, if I hadn’t noticed that Forrest wears the same ring now.” 

Michael’s eyes sharpened. “Family heirloom or do you think he worked at Caulfield?”

“I don’t know, but he is an ex-Army vet.” Alex tapped the photo of the members gathered together, “That was part of what I’ve been looking into, identifying everyone who worked at Caulfield right until the end. As for Deep Sky, I don’t know if it’s military service, Caulfield, or a family legacy that ties every member together, I just know that Dad kept in touch with those who were involved at the prison.” 

“Makes sense, Jesse was able to get a hold of the atomizer and pathogen that Charlie developed from somewhere. For all of his strutting around at Crashcon with a uniform on, that didn’t look like it was an official use of government property.” 

“Right, it definitely wasn’t, and before you tell me to leave it alone-” Alex began, remembering Michael’s response to the investigation into 1947. He had considered Alex’s actions back then to be an act of futility, something that could only hurt by being revisited. The past being the past, unable to be altered. 

This time Michael cut him off, “No, I was wrong about that. I, um, I finally realized that just because I don’t see you connected to that place or the rest of your family, doesn’t mean you don’t. And while I wish that you didn’t, Alex, if digging into this gives you some sort of peace over it, then do it.”

Alex looked down, feeling the weight of relief that Michael understood. After his father’s body had been removed, after the questions and lies had been spun, he had spent the entire night sleepless over having been made into an effective weapon to force Michael’s compliance. Helena had known where all the weak spots were thanks to Flint, and had armed herself with a depowering agent. Once Flint was recovered, there was nothing stopping him from employing a similar tactic in the future.

“If anyone’s going to destroy me, it might as well be you.” Michael had once declared with a bold carelessness that had infuriated and terrified Alex at the time, but that was nothing compared to now having a lived experience to back it up. His mind had easily used the memory of Maria’s collapse after the faintest exposure at the Crashcon and had exchanged her with Michael, being torn apart molecule by molecule, by an invisible threat.

Give him an enemy that he could see any day, especially one that bled. 

“I’ve been fighting so long, I don’t know what peace looks like anymore.” Alex held out his hand for the ring, and Michael gently laid it in his palm, brushing his fingertips over Alex’s skin. A lifetime of controlling himself kept the reaction off his face as he rubbed his thumb over the raised emblem of Deep Sky. “But I have learned recently that when something seems too good to be true, it is.” 

Neither of them mentioned Jesse and his performance from the last few months, but Michael frowned again, “Wait a second, you think Forrest targeted you on purpose?” 

“A member of a secret paramilitary organization just happens to ask me out after I was involved in the destruction of Caulfield? You really think that’s a coincidence?” Alex raised his eyebrow skeptically at Michael, before looking out the window to watch the pedestrians on the street. 

“I think you’re the hottest guy in Roswell, so I’m not surprised he asked you out.” Michael flushed a little when Alex turned back to stare at him in surprise over the flattering comment. “Seriously, you’re a catch, but I will agree, it’s not a good look that he’s got that ring. But maybe it’s crap he wears because of his dad, and he’s got no idea he’s parading around?”

“You’re being awfully generous.”

“Isn’t that what you want? Because last time I checked, you were the one telling me that I should have faith in people, even if they give me no reason to.” Michael flattened his hands on the table, drawing Alex’s attention to the bandanna on his hand again. That damn fight kept echoing between them to Alex’s dismay, but Michael didn’t let him linger over it, “While I stand by what I said about Jesse, ‘cause he messes us both up, all I know about Forrest Long is that he is way too interested in Nazi history and he has good taste in guys.” Michael wetted his lips, nervously to tack on, “I also know that I trust you, and your instincts, so if you say there’s something not right about him, then I believe you.” 

“There’s something not right about him,” Alex repeated seriously.

“Then I believe you, so what do you need me to do?”

“He wants to get close to me for some reason, probably related to what I know about aliens, so I’m going to let him. And I need you to back me up in case something goes wrong, and maybe use that lock pick you have in your brain?” Alex waited until Michael nodded in agreement, feeling the swell of gratitude at his support. Anyone else would probably think he was being paranoid, or that this was a delayed reaction to his father trying to kill them, but Michael, for all of his previous counter-arguments, had never truly believed in the good of humanity. Maybe in a few days, Alex would feel guilty in relying on that. Maybe in a few days, his suspicions about Forrest would be eliminated.

“He’s involved in running the open mike night at the Wild Pony with Maria, so I thought maybe I could perform a song or something? He drives a Prius, and while he’s listening to me sing, you could slip out mid-song and insert this into the code reader of his car.” 

On the table was a small device that mimicked a thumb drive, small and black. It was the type of technology that Alex had used in the Air Force, tracking terrorists abroad. It had taken a fair amount of searching to purchase the equivalent stateside to have on hand. Michael picked it up curiously, turning over his hands.

“It’s designed to download the GPS history of his car,” Alex explained, before rubbing the back of his head in thought. “That’s how I uncovered what my dad was up to, first by tracking his movements. If I let Forrest take me home, I can gain access to his laptop and phone.”

Michael furrowed his brow in concern, “You’re really willing to go that far? And what if he is involved in something shady, what then?”

“My father and brother both used me to get to you, there’s really nothing I wouldn’t do to keep that from happening again and if it means playing along with this guy, letting him lead me to the members of Deep Sky? Then I will.” If anything, his words only deepened the concern on Michael’s face, but Alex had been committed for a long time. Since the red level threat. Since the short ride to the recruitment office. Maybe as far back as his guitar going missing in the music room.

“I’ve slept with guys for worse reasons.”

CONTINUED HERE

#Malex #roswell new mexico #malex fic #alex goes undercover #not forrest long friendly #getting back together #Season 3 speculation

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

we have all eternity (to love the dead)

As a child, Katara had always dreamed of meeting her soulmate, of being swept off her feet by some dashing stranger, of hearing her name fall from their lips like snowflakes fluttering down from the pink sky above. She’d found solace in this perfect person, and she’d used their unlimited potential to distract herself from the horrors of war ever surrounding her icy home.

The day Katara learned she didn’t have a soulmate, she’d wept for hours.

For Katara and Aang, fate works in mysterious ways.

(Written for Day 7 of Kataang Week 2021: The Sea & The Sky/Soulmate AU, hosted by @kataang-week. Read here on AO3 or continue reading below.)

Soulmates were everything a person wanted and more, or so the legends told. As a child, Katara had always dreamed of meeting her soulmate, of being swept off her feet by some dashing stranger, of hearing her name fall from their lips like snowflakes fluttering down from the pink sky above. She’d found solace in this perfect person, and she’d used their unlimited potential to distract herself from the horrors of war ever surrounding her icy home.

Sokka had teased her about it, her tendency to drift into dreams, but she knew he longed to meet his soulmate, too. As such, his barbs never dug deep.

The day Katara learned she didn’t have a soulmate, she’d wept for hours. Her mother’s words of comfort had fallen upon uncaring ears, because what did it matter that a rare few were born without soulmates, what did it matter that she could lead a happy life without one, what did it matter that she had such a unique opportunity for freedom in her passion, why, why did it have to be her? How was that fair?

Deep down, Katara suspected she’d always known. The name of one’s soulmate was the first word spoken on a child’s first birthday, oftentimes the first word they’d ever say. Sokka had known the name of his soulmate for as long as Katara could remember, and he would express his excitement about meeting her on only the quietest of nights.

Yue, he’d say, breathless, the word but a whisper slipping from the tip of his tongue. Have you ever heard a more beautiful name?

Katara would always giggle in reply. No, Sokka, I haven’t.

Sokka would then stare up at the star-dotted, moonlit sky, his face and body washed over with a pale silver glow. You know, I bet the moon doesn’t even hold a candle to her.

Every time, Katara would rest her head on his shoulder and agree. Every time, Katara was unable to offer up a name of her own. The signs were there, they’d always been there, the nagging terror that on her first birthday she had been—

“You were silent, sweetie,” her mother had told her on her eighth birthday, holding Katara’s face in her hands as Katara screamed and cried like a child whose future had been ripped away from her. To eight-year-old Katara, maybe it had been. “But Katara, listen to me. Just because you don’t have a soulmate doesn’t mean you won’t find love.”

“Yes it does, Mom,” Katara had sobbed, shaking her head and trying to pull away from her mother. “It means there’s no one out there who’s perfect for me!” Years of fantasies, years of hopes and dreams, the possibility of freedom and the end of this war were gone, destroyed, torn to pieces, and there was no putting them back together.

“Shh, sweetie, I need you to take a deep breath,” her mother had crooned, thumbing a tear from beneath Katara’s eye. “I need you to listen very closely to what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

It had taken a minute, but Katara remembered that she’d managed to do as instructed, because even—or perhaps especially—at her lowest points, she would always turn to the advice of her mother. When her sobs had faded to quiet hiccups, her mother continued.

“I know it hurts to not have a soulmate, Katara, and it is more than okay for you to let yourself feel that hurt. But in some ways, I promise your life is better this way. Do you want to know why?”

Katara had nodded, doubt riddled in her bones.

“Because without a soulmate, sweetie, it means you get to have a choice. Some soulmates are destined to end in destruction or pain, others in tragedy, but you, Katara?” Her mother had placed a gentle, teary kiss to Katara’s forehead. “You get to choose if that love is worth it. And the power of choice is something hard to find these days.”

At the time, Katara had barely processed those words, instead letting her mother pull her into the tightest of hugs as she began to cry all over again. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair.

But what was truly unfair, Katara now knew, was just how right her mother had been. Some soulmates were fated to end in destruction, in pain, in tragedy.

A week later, the Fire Nation navy had taken her mother’s life before Katara’s own eyes. That same day, her father had lost his own life, his spirit shattered and torn apart into a million little pieces that might never find their way back together. Not another week had gone by before he’d left. Left to fight, he’d told her and Sokka, but Katara had never been so certain.

Destruction.

Now, eight years later, Katara could only watch in unspoken horror as the life faded from Princess Yue’s delicate body, her form slumping weakly against Sokka’s chest as he buried his face in the fur of her coat and screamed. There was no return from such a sacrifice.

Pain.

Katara found Aang later that night, after the Fire Nation’s navy had been turned away from the Northern Water Tribe when he’d channeled the might of the Ocean Spirit. He was sitting atop an icy railing, feet dangling off the edge, either not cold or uncaring of the North Pole’s frigid nature. Katara joined him, resting her elbows on the same railing. Together they stared out over the city, up at the moon, away into the stars.

Tragedy.

Aang sucked in a sharp breath, and Katara suspected she knew what question was headed her way. “They were… They were soulmates, weren’t they?”

Katara nodded. She didn’t need Aang to specify to know the two star-crossed lovers he was referring to. “They were.”

Aang grimaced, eyes closing as he exhaled slowly, a reaction of distress and defeat. “Spirits. Poor Sokka.”

Katara nodded again. She’d tried to get her brother to talk about it earlier, but… he needed time alone. As much as she wanted to be there for him, the way silent sobs had been wracking Sokka’s body spoke for itself, and she’d let him be. Which was how she’d ended up out here, night nearing dawn, standing at Aang’s right.

“You know,” she said after a pause, bitterness seeping into her tone before she could stop it, “for all the eternal bliss soulmates are supposed to bring each other, I don’t know of any two in my life that have ever been lucky enough to be granted a happy ending.”

Her mother and Yue, sacrificing themselves for the sake of others, leaving her father and Sokka behind to mend gaping wounds in their hearts that no stitches could close. Gran Gran’s husband had died long before Katara was born, yet she knew now that her grandmother’s soulmate had never been someone in the Southern Water Tribe but instead a stubborn man on the opposite end of the world. And yet all that time, all those years, her grandmother had held on to Pakku’s necklace, passing it down to Kya and then to her.

Tragedy, destruction, heartbreak.

Aang nodded glumly. “I know what you mean.”

Katara blinked, wincing as his words sunk in. Aang was a kid a hundred years out of time—spirits, of course he understood her sentiment. How callous had it been, no, how egregiously cruel had she been to even mention it?

But it was too late to take the words back.

“Monk Gyatso never told me who his soulmate was,” Aang continued before Katara could apologize. He was staring up at the moon but, Katara suspected, seeing something else entirely. “Just that… they could never be together. And Bumi—”

“The king of Omashu?”

“—yeah, him.” Aang swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I remember that his soulmate was killed in an earthbending accident before either of them turned nine years old.”

He stopped there, but Katara could tell there were words still hidden behind the cloak of silence. Aang’s own soulmate, presumably, a person now lost to time. And seeing as Katara had been the one to bring it up, it was only right she offered to share his burden, too.

Katara placed a hand on top of Aang’s. A beat passed, and he turned his hand over, palm upwards, before gently lacing their fingers together. “Tell me about them,” Katara whispered, and a ghost of a smile flitted across Aang’s lips.

“His name was Kuzon.”

Soon Aang was regaling her with stories of all the mischief they’d gotten into together, how once upon a time it had been only natural for an Air Nomad to have a best friend from the Fire Nation. They’d protected a dragon egg from poachers, taught each other the dances of their respective nations, stayed up until sunrise seeking out their own constellations in the stars, and now—

“And now,” Aang whispered, his grip on her hand slackening as his shoulders fell, “it’s been a hundred years. I don’t know…” He trailed off, but Katara heard the final word, unsaid though it may have been.

Anything.

What fate had met Kuzon, if he’d missed Aang after he’d vanished, if they ever could have been something more than what they were.

“I’m so sorry,” Katara said, and she was.

Aang nodded. “Thank you.” His voice was hushed, fractured, heartbroken when he added, “I’m sorry, too.”

And she knew he was.

Katara gave his hand a gentle squeeze, moving closer to Aang’s side. Their shoulders brushed, and her heart fluttered for a reason she couldn’t quite and maybe didn’t yet want to discern.

“I don’t even have a soulmate,” she admitted after a pause, keeping her eyes glued to the stars. They glittered the same way every night, didn’t they? Unchanging. Permanent. “Naturally, I was devastated to learn that as a child. I cried so much they could have made a sculpture with my frozen tears.”

Aang chuckled at her attempt at humor, or maybe just at her dry tone, but hearing the warm sound made a smile tug at Katara’s lips all the same.

“My mother told me that I was lucky, in some ways,” she continued. “Without a soulmate, she said that I’d get to choose if the love I pursued was worth it.” Katara licked her lips, hesitant, but powered through. “I—I know it’s not exactly the same for you, Aang, with what happened to Kuzon, but if it helps at all—”

“Don’t worry,” Aang said, and he smiled at her as he turned around to jump off the snow-coated railing. “I understand what you mean.” He gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing it. “Thank you, Katara.”

For a moment, all Katara could do was stare. In front of her stood the most powerful bender in the world, able to channel the might of ancient spirits far more powerful than any mere mortal could ever dream to be. This was the man who would end the war and bring peace, harmony, love to the four nations for the first time in a hundred years. But all Katara saw was…

Aang.

Her best friend.

And in his eyes was a silence, an ache, an affection so deep it rivaled—no, it reflected her own.

You get to choose.

Katara met Aang halfway, wrapping her arms around his shoulders while he closed his own around her midsection, embracing each other like it was the last hug they’d ever share. He fit so naturally against her, like a puzzle piece Katara hadn’t known she was missing.

And if Aang inhaled a shuddering breath to hold back tears, and if Katara hugged Aang just a little bit tighter in return, well… that would stay between them and the moon.

#kataang #kataangtag #kataang week #katara #aang #atla #avatar the last airbender #sokka #kya #yue #kuzon #atla fanfic #amy writes

[pastelsandpining]

we’ll meet again

a rewriting to the ending of Ocarina of Time

words: 2347

warnings: angst. a lot of angst. read with caution

Masterlist

When the mangled body of the hog-like monster finally grows still, the sacred sword still hilt-deep in the crumpled corpse, Link knows then that it’s over. The years of sorrow, the loneliness of travel, everything that came with the heavy weight of pulling the world from the clutches of evil, is over. He withdraws the sword, but it takes an effort he didn’t think he had left. It’s heavier--or maybe it’s his limbs that are heavy, too exhausted to carry on any further. Adrenaline is a thing of the past and he takes two steps forward before his foot catches on a bit of loose debris. The Master Sword, his tool of time and of protection, slips to the soiled ground with a clang, and he’s following it. Part of him, the part too used to victories never meaning an end, expected the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

The only thing that wraps around him, catching him from hitting the rocky ground still levitating above the chasm of chaos, is a sea of gentle pink and purple tones. The touch is feather soft and strong enough to ground him all at once, and no longer is the world spinning, or burning in a sea of despair. It’s a comfort he hasn’t known since Saria—over seven years ago, but it feels like so much longer that he’s been craving it.

“Princess,” he greets in a hoarse, broken whisper. It’s swallowed by the fabric of her dress.

“Oh, Link,” she says, and it’s enough to make him lean his head against her chest. When her face finds his shoulder and he feels the warmth of her exhale on his neck, he chokes out a sob and digs his filthy, glove-covered fingers into the satin of the dress covering her back. He isn’t worthy of her touch or her comfort, but he’s too brokenly grateful to let her go.

Seven years of nothing and a mere two of shadow, of death and destruction and desolation, comes to an end, a result of nothing more than a man given too much power to handle, and Link does not feel the relief or the lifted weight that one would expect. All he feels is the suffocating fear that the body would move again, or that the crystal would encase her, and he would find himself stuck in a never ending cycle of heroic trauma.

But the arms of the princess are steady and she whispers another phrase, two of the simplest words that bear a heavy importance: “Thank you.”

He wonders what bit of her magic is responsible for how she still smells so good after running down several swirling cliffs and through burning, stuffy rooms. A vague realization hit him that he must smell awful, but he supposes it doesn’t matter when the world has been ending for the past nine years. His fingers are stiff when he tries to move them. He doesn't realize just how tightly he’s been holding onto her, or how hard they’re both shaking. He flattens his hands against her back, inhales her scent, loosens his arms, and relaxes his shoulders. His leg still stings from where Ganon’s blade had caught him, but it’s dull and doesn’t matter right now.

When he finds the strength to lift his head, everything around him is blue.

It’s a stark contrast to the dark skies that plagued Hyrule for months. It’s so different from the moody interior of blackstone walls and towering mirrors with grotesque mosaics of thirst and power. It’s too bright for his eyes, even if all he wants to look at is her. They’re still kneeling on the ground, except there’s nothing visible beneath them. Blue skies and cotton clouds stretch as far as he can see. The Master Sword is still there, telling him whatever’s holding them up is solid enough, and he reaches blindly for it when he finally retracts his arms. He drives the tip into the transparent (or maybe, reflective) ground and hauls himself up with a wince. It takes a minute for the spinning to stop. When he’s steady again, he extends a hand to her.

She takes it, gentle and promising, and Link helps Princess Zelda to her feet.

“Where…” he tries to ask, but her eyes soften and he no longer has a voice.

“Nowhere,” she replies. He feels her hold on his hand tighten. “We’re in a moment between time, a space away from Hyrule. I figured you, of all people, deserve an explanation.”

For all of his senseless meddling with time, he understood none of what she’d said. Thinking about it gave him a headache, so he didn’t. But why would he need an explanation?

“There’s no explanation worth saying,” he says, shaking his head.

“People go to great lengths when they have been wronged. You are one of them. I was so young, too naive to know what would happen. It was my plan that put you through so much and for that, I’m sorry.”

She looks so sad. It claws into his heart and tries to pull it out. Link shakes his head again, more desperately, and covers her hand with his.

“It’s an honor to help you, Princess,” he argues, as if he could make her forgive herself through the sheer force of will. “I would do it again and again.”

“Because you are kind and courageous. It’s in your blood, to be a hero.”

To be her hero, which was something he couldn’t say aloud.

“I feel empty,” he admits into the stretch of silence. “What happens now that it’s over?”

Because stories are not real. Stories that end with a suddenly happy life, like there was never any threat at all, never sit right with him. What’s a hero’s purpose once the villain is defeated? Princess Zelda, in all of her wisdom and power, is the only person who could answer that.

“What do you want to happen?” she asks.

Link frowns. If he’s honest, he’s never expected an ending. Logically, he knows he couldn’t go on forever. Either he would succeed or he would die trying, but it lasted for so long that the idea of a life after the war was nothing more than a fantasy. Now, with the prospect in front of him and just out of reach, he doesn’t know what he wants. He thinks of the forest, of Saria and of his friends, and knows that having it back is not an option. Even if it was, he knows it wouldn’t be the same.

He thinks about the contrast between the past and the present. He thinks about the lively people and colors and animals that once filled Castle Town to the brim, and the ghost town inhabited only by reanimated corpses that it’d become. He thinks of the civilizations he’s met—the Gorons, the Zora, and how devastated they were destined to be. He thinks of the woman in front of him, the princess with which this all started, and believes that she does not deserve to bear the burden of destruction alone.

He also doesn’t think he’s been asked that before. It’s always been, you must do this, and so he doesn’t know what it is that he wants.

“Is peace an option?” he asks, because he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to quiet the chaos in his head.

“That’s a complicated question,” Princess Zelda replies. Her hands slip from his and he aches with the urge to take them again. “Can you have peace without conflict? Are they really so easy to seperate? Hyrule was peaceful because a civil war brought about chaos. This moment in time is peaceful because you’ve laid to rest a terrible evil. I wish I could grant you what you seek.”

He wants to shrug, brush off her words like there was nothing profound or truthful behind them, but for all his courage, not even he could disrespect the princess. She does not deserve that. Instead, he asks,

“What do you want, Princess?”

Her reply comes fast, with a small and pained smile, “I’m afraid what I want isn’t something you can give me, Hero.”

He doesn’t like that title, Hero. Why can’t he be Link, nothing more, nothing less? For the same reason she can’t simply be Zelda, he supposes, and leaves it there with a frown.

“Is it that bad?” he asks. She shakes her head.

“I want, more than anything, for my people to be spared the suffering that Ganondorf-- that I have put them through. I want to undo my mistake, take back my meddling in something I was too young to understand. I want to restore everything that was, before the world ended.”

It’s a bold desire. Link understands where she’s coming from, because it was easier before the world ended. Back when his only struggle was wondering why he didn’t have a fairy like the rest of the Kokiri children. With all the power that Princess Zelda had, surely it was not impossible.

“You could go back to before,” he suggests, gripping the sword a little tighter.

“I could,” she agrees, “but I would leave so much behind.”

Link furrows his brows and takes a look at their surroundings. What would she be leaving behind? Did she not lose her entire kingdom? There must’ve been something he was missing, something he couldn’t see.

“I don’t understand,” he admits at last, turning his gaze to the Master Sword. “What’s left to lose?”

When he looks back up, Princess Zelda’s eyes are wet. He frowns again, wishing there was any sort of comfort he could offer her.

“I would lose you,” she says, and he feels his heart stop in his chest, “and the friendship we’ve built, and the lessons I’ve learned. Neither are worth giving up. It’s a difficult decision I don’t know how to make.”

Link doesn’t know what to say, so he extends a hand to her in a gesture he can only hope will provide some sort of comfort. When she takes it, he averts his eyes and busies himself looking around at what he could see of the ruined kingdom. He can’t pretend to know how she feels. Right now, he has nothing but her to keep him going. He’s outgrown his friends, his purpose has been fulfilled, what more is there for him to do? He could support Princess Zelda in whatever decision she makes, but even so, what could he do for her, really? Perhaps if there was any remnant of the kingdom that wasn’t fractured, they could rebuild, but at what cost? The expense of exhaustion and of the resources they didn’t have was too great. He knows nothing about governing, or anything else he might be required to do if he stayed with her--and gods, did he want to stay.

For her, he doesn’t think it’s much of a sacrifice at all. A kingdom of thousands of people is worth more than one lowly man. He does not know how to read. It was a silly thing, to be as old as him and not know how to do one of the simplest things. Navi’s done it for him for as long as she’s been around, and he doesn’t think someone who can’t read or write would make for a good companion in a time of need. He can be taught, but the time it would take simply wasn’t worth it.

He brings her gloved hand to his mouth, offers a kiss to her knuckles, and before he knows it, he’s pressing the Ocarina of Time into her hands.

“Your kingdom,” he says, “it needs you.”

“Link,” and she shakes her head and sounds broken but he presses further.

“You’re brilliant and just, and you deserve your fair reign over your people. Please, Princess, you deserve something for yourself.”

“Is a lifelong companion not good enough?” she asks. He feels her grip on the instrument tighten beneath his fingers.

“No. You have the chance to undo it all. Why settle with the cards you’ve been given?”

“I..”

She doesn’t look sure. Link has to admit that the idea is scary. Resetting the timeline was… difficult. It would undo everything he’s done up until now, reducing it to nothing more than a few years of bad dreams, and that idea made him feel sick. The possibility of never knowing her scared him more.

“We can get back what we lost,” he tries to convince her anyway. “You didn’t get to be a child.”

“Neither did you,” she argues, stepping closer. “Why should I get what you never had?”

“Then make it so we both get it.”

Her blue eyes narrow as she looks up at him. He doesn’t back down. The silence is pregnant and her gaze is intense, but he knows what he wants and it’s for her to get the chance she deserves. Backing down is not an option, no matter how much he wants to tell her that she can have whatever she wants from him.

“Link,” she says at last, freeing her hands so she could hold the ocarina to her chest. He thinks she wants to say something else, but she settles for, “Are you sure?” and he nods quickly, despite the tears he can feel stinging in his eyes.

“Go home,” he insists, lifting a hand to gently hold her face, “and I promise I’ll come find you.”

She smiles up at him, mumbling something about keeping the promise, and all he can do is smile back. When she lifts the ocarina to her mouth, Link decides simply to watch her until the arms of time take him back, away from her again but not for long.

When he comes to, in the Temple of Time, with the sword in the pedestal and his hands too small to hold it properly, that’s when Navi takes her leave. Link, renewed with the vigor of youth, turns around and runs towards the castle, as fast as his little legs can carry him.

#zelink #oot zelink #ocarina of time #ocarina of time zelink #my writing

[kj-1130]

Feelings Suck

Uswnt x reader

⚠️T/W: implication to emotional/verbal abuse? Bullying, lil bit of self-harm maybe? lemme know if it’s something else.⚠️

Main Masterlist

Your first call up to the national team came when you were 16. This had been your dream since you first started watching and playing soccer. Being able to train with such inspirational and empowering women was amazing.

When you arrived, you were kind of shy at first. You honestly didn’t expect to be called up again, so you figured there was no point in trying to get to know everyone and develop relationships.

Much to your surprise, you had been asked to attend another camp. Then, you started to get to know the ladies more and you learned that they were amazing people.

The women were so understanding and just nice in general. If only the media and your classmates had been the same.

Before you had been called up, you weren’t very popular at school. Many didn’t notice you were there; you were essentially invisible to everyone even some teachers. But after you made your debut, things started to change.

You had never yearned for popularity, but hoped it was the good kind if it ever did come to you. But when it came to you, it came fast, hard, and unexpected yet not the way you hoped.

People started pointing out flaws; saying you weren’t good enough to be playing with such great athletes or that you didn’t look like other soccer players.

Not only that, but the media had ripping your ass as well. Almost every time you looked, your social media was full of your mistakes. From compilations of your greatest fails to commentators.

The supposed fans of the Uswnt, were absolutely ruthless to you. Always saying that you didn’t deserve your spot and anybody was easily ten times better than you.

You had your teammates and surely they’d understand what you were going through. The thought of asking for help had crossed your mind multiple times; when you saw Christen just watching television the first time you were roomed together. Or when you and Tobin had spent the day together going to get lunch. There were plenty of times you could’ve reached out, but the constant overthinking and weight you had on your shoulders told you otherwise.

You tried not to let it get to you, but when you hear something so much you start to believe it. If being on the national team gave you this much baggage, you’d rather be invisible like before.

You always thought that you’d burden people with your problems. Everybody has issues of their own that some didn’t know about, but they carried on. That’s what you thought. If people can get through their issues then so can you.

Day by day, the team noticed that your behavior had changed. You didn’t talk as much and you weren’t as chipper as usual.

You didn’t do your daily morning yoga with Christen often opting to do some light training instead. You no longer went skateboarding with Ash and Tobin, but spent your time in your hotel room looking at stats or ways to improve your play. It didn’t matter to you how much time it took.

You just wanted someone to recognize that you’re something; that’s what you always longed for. Each time someone said something about your horrible play, your parents were only being proved right. They always told you that you’d never get anywhere with the sport; that there were athletes much better than you. But you always pushed past that, desperate to show them that you could and would make it. Yet now, it just seems like they were just telling the truth.

You had gotten off the phone with your parents not long ago. Both of them screamed at you for a good thirty minutes, complaining that you had wasted their money on soccer. Complaining that you had no right to be such a bad player when they gave you everything you needed. Of course you felt guilty; they manipulated you to think it’s your fault.

So here you were once again, sitting at the hotel’s desk trying to get it together. You had training in an hour so you had to suck it up.

Before you could start getting ready, Alex, your roommate, came in with Kelley, Allie, Christen, and Tobin.

You quickly wiped away your tears and hoped you didn’t look like you were about to breakdown. Thankfully, luck was on your side today.

Alex came over and sat on her bed along with Kelley and Allie, “Hey kiddo, we’re just gonna hang out for a bit til training. What were you up to?”

You hadn’t really been doing anything since the phone call so you just came up with a lie, “Nothing much. Just on my phone.”

The women had started engaging in conversation, so you decided to just get ready.

Grabbing your clothes, you went to take a shower. Once you stepped inside, you tried avoiding the mirror all together, but it was so hard. It was right there; right in front of you. It was impossible for you to ignore.

When you turned and got a glimpse of yourself, all you heard were your classmates. ‘You’re too big to be a soccer player.’ ‘You’re never gonna make it big.’ ‘You’re worthless, whatever you do is for nothing.’

You blocked out their voices, but soon came your parents’. ‘You’re wasting our money.’ ‘You’re not good enough’ ‘We should’ve given you away when we had the chance.’

Those had been things you’d heard before; the last one always hitting you the hardest. Maybe they were right. Maybe you were just a nobody with no guaranteed future with this sport. Maybe you should just quit it all...

Christen had gone quiet after you made it into the bathroom. She noticed some of your odd behavior especially quick since she didn’t have her yoga buddy anymore.

The others kept talking but the more the forward thinks about it, your mood has surely been dampening. You hadn’t spoken to her about anything, but she hoped that you did feel comfortable to speak to her when you were having problems.

Christen speaks up as she no longer can keep this to herself, “Has anybody else noticed (Y/n)’s been acting weird lately?”

The other athletes in the room contemplate for a second before nodding their heads, already trying to figure out what was wrong.

Kelley had been scrolling through social media at the time and happened to come across some comments, “Uh, guys? I think I have an idea of what’s going on.”

Everyone in the room immediately snapped their heads over to the defender and crowded around her. Allie was the first to see and started reading one, “‘(Y/n) (L/n) honestly needs to be removed from the team. Literally anyone would be a better choice, like come on.’ That has over one hundred likes. There’s no way she hasn’t seen any of these.”

The women all shared sad looks. Christen was about to say something but you opened the door, having finished getting ready.

Everyone scrambled back to their respectful spots and you raised an eyebrow at their frantic behavior.

Shaking your head, you decide to go down to the lobby to be alone and hopefully clear your head.

Before you could even make it to the door, someone had called you, “Hey (y/n)?”

You sighed before answering, “Yes, Alex?”

“Where you going?”

You just wanted to go somewhere without being questioned for once. You understood that you were the youngest, but the level of overprotectiveness these women have is off the charts.

“No, I’m not leaving the hotel. Yes, I have my phone. Yes, I have my key card. I’m just going to the lobby to chill for a bit before practice.”

You had been through the exact same interrogation almost every time you wanted to leave your hotel room.

Luckily, before Alex could grill you any further, Christen stepped in, “It’s fine (y/n), just go ahead.”

You muttered a small bye and walked out the door. When you were halfway down the hall and heard the door close, you let one of your tears fall.

-

When it was time for practice, you had just been off your game. You were missing shots you normally wouldn’t, your tackles were messy, and everything was just an overall mess right now. And everyone else could tell.

Every word read or that was spoken to you were just in your brain, making themselves at home. They were right there, always reminding you what a failure you are and that you’ll always be one. They were there letting you know that your parents were right all along. They were there making themselves known in any way possible.

You were so close to breaking down at this point. Vlatko took you off the field and told you to get yourself together. You honestly didn’t know if you could anymore.

You were so close to breaking and didn’t know if anyone could pick up the leftover pieces.

Sitting down on the sidelines, you immediately put your knees to your chest and tucking your head in between them. You tried to calm down, but it was so hard. Your senses were dialed to 11 and everything was too much. You decided to get up and go to your bag where you kept your phones along with your earbuds.

You quickly scrambled to get them on; anything to block out the chaos of your brain was good at the moment. All unaware of the worried eyes on you.

In that moment, the team had decided to get to the bottom of this and help you.

-

You shouldn’t have expected to be able to hide this forever. You shouldn’t have expected to be able to use homework as an excuse to not hang out forever.

When there was a mandatory team bonding called in your and Alex’s room, you knew something was about to happen. Whether that something was about to benefit you was the question.

When you got to the hotel, you expected that you’d be able to shower then relax a bit and prepare yourself for the inevitable conversation you were about to have with all 20+ women on the team.

So when you did step out of the restroom, you absolutely did not expect over 40 eyes already on you.

“Nope.”

“Ah, ah, ah, no,” Ali said while walking over to you, dragging you with her to her spot and pulling you onto her lap. Your eyes widened slightly and you immediately moved yourself to the spot next to her.

Everyone was thinking similar things. You usually loved your cuddles and they’d always make you feel better if you were stressed because of school or anything else.

“So,” Ash said, “you wanna tell us what’s been going on?”

You simply looked down at your fidgeting hands and shrugged your shoulders. “What’s there to tell?”

Ali shrugs her shoulders as well, “Oh I don’t know. Maybe how you were off your game today.”

When have I ever been on my game?

“Or how you’ve been distancing yourself from everyone.”

I don’t deserve to be here anyway.

“Or—“

“Okay, okay. I don’t know what you want me to say,” you muttered.

You were panicking. This is overwhelming you and you didn’t really want to have much human interaction after training.

“Look, you don’t have to go into detail,” Tobin said. She was always chill and her demeanor relaxed you a bit. “You can just give us a gist and let us help you. Please, (y/n). We care about you and your behavior shows something is wrong. Let us help.”

And there was the guilt trip.

Tobin’s words started to make you tear up.

After much hesitation you decide to say something (more like mumbled).

“They say things.”

Ali takes your face in her hands and lifts it up, forcing your bloodshot eyes to make contact with hers.

“Can you speak up sweetie?”

“They say things,” you spoke with a tremble in your voice.

“Who says things?”

“Everybody. They all do.”

Every woman in the room shares glances. They knew you were still going to school when you didn’t have camp so hate could be extended there too.

Christen decides to contribute to the conversation, “You know what anyone says isn’t true, right?”

You shrugged again.

“(Y/n),” Kelley spoke sternly.

“What?” You finally snapped. Every word after this just spilled out of you like a dam.

“I’ve been hearing it for the past 17 years, do you not expect me to believe it! I see it everyday, there's no hiding it.”

There it was. You snapped. Everything was coming out. Your body shook from sobs and Ali quickly pulled you closer into her embrace.

There was no dry eye. No one knew of your home situation and now the cat’s out of the bag.

“(Y/n),” you were pulling your hair; the pain always grounded you.

“(Y/n)!”

“What?!”

Ali grabbed your wrist and gently yanked them from your head.

“You’re having a panic attack. Breathe.”

You were shaking your head, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

It took at least 10 minutes to calm down. The team gave you a few more minutes to regroup.

When you became more aware of your surroundings, you realized how much your head was hurting.

While you were hiding in Ali’s shoulder, everyone asked questions.

“What do you mean 17 years, (y/n)?” Casey asked.

“My parents. They say stuff too. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s just go to sleep, alright?” Ali always knew how to calm you down.

You nodded and hummed into her neck and fell asleep soon after.

From then on, the team was going to protect you. How? They didn’t know at the moment, but they were absolutely determined.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #woso imagines #Uswnt imagine #ali krieger #ashlyn harris #alex morgan #tobin heath #christen press #casey short #allie long #kelley ohara #rose lavelle #emily sonnett #tierna davidson #mal pugh #alyssa naeher #megan rapinoe #abby dahlkemper #x reader #crystal dunn #becky sauerbrunn #lindsey horan #uswnt players #uswnt

[kozukitty]

Forget Me Not

nishinoya yū x fem! reader.

warnings: major character death, mentions/implications of suicide. angst.

count the stars and i’m sure you’ll find me.

yuu nishinoya

january 9th, xxxx

there's a girl on the school rooftop.

her name is (y/n) (l/n)— a girl i've known since middle school. we never talked even though we were in the same class. i've never seen her speak to anyone, we all almost thought she was mute.

i almost didn't recognize her, she looked so much more different than how she did before. her hair was short back then, but now it cascaded down her shoulders like waterfalls— i was almost entranced from just looking at her. she said nothing to me, all she did was stare at me with her (e/c)-eyes that seemed so bright, yet so distant.

i apologized for intruding, and told her i had only came up to retrieve my volleyball. she gave me a perplexed look and said, "who the hell spikes a volleyball all the way up here?"

i knew she wasn't joking, but it still made me laugh. her question had almost caught me off guard, i wasn't expecting her to say anything to me. i didn't even think she would look my way.

she went silent again as i rambled about my teammates and how incidents like this weren't really uncommon. i felt my words get caught in my throat when she handed me my volleyball with delicate fingers that almost seemed like they could crumble like sand.

she didn't speak not another word and turned on her heels, my presence no longer imposing as a burden to her. i also turned to leave, but stopped the moment i felt the winter wind whisper into my ears. i glance back at her with a small smile before saying,

"you should come visit my practice sometime."

yuu nishinoya

february 7th, xxxx

there's a girl in my gym.

i was more surprised than anybody when i saw her walk in. she nearly froze on the spot when she saw all eyes on her, her face erupting into a cherry red blush as she played with her fingers nervously.

"i-i'm here for nishinoya-kun..." she stuttered, her eyes averting from every single person she laid eyes on in the gym. "i'm sorry for the intrusion."

everyone gave me the same confused look, their eyes boring into mine as they wordlessly asked for an explanation. "she's just a friend," i explained. "i invited her here."

tanaka yelled at me, obviously excited that i managed to convince a girl to show up. i could do nothing but give him a sheepish smile as i ran up to the girl who stood by the gym doors awkwardly.

"what are you doing here?"

"you said i could come," she responded shyly. "i-i just wanted to talk to you again..."

and there i stood talking to the girl who i just happened to run into that day in january. i never thought we would ever speak again, i never would've guessed that we would even run into each other at all. yet here she was, cheeks blooming in a rosy red with her silky hair tucked behind her ear neatly.

"d-do you have a valentine?" she asked, her words barely above a whisper. i felt a small blush creep onto my cheeks, giving her a small shake of my head, i responded with,

"no, i don't. do you?"

yuu nishinoya

february 14, xxxx

there's a girl in front of my locker.

she stood there with a deep blush on her face, her dainty hands clutching a box of chocolates. her feet shuffled on the ground nervously, and when her eyes met mine my heart began to race.

"t-these are for you, noya-san," she said, her hands holding out the small box that she was just about to crush mere seconds ago. i took the chocolate into my hands, giving her the biggest smile i could muster.

it was a little awkward, honestly. neither one of us knew what to say. i couldn't keep thanking her for the chocolate, so i tried my best to talk about something that would at least be of interest to her.

she was really just a cute flustered mess the entire time, and we laughed and everything felt surreal. i thought she was perfect for me, i thought she would be the one. why did good things always get taken away?

but at that time, i didn't know that. so i asked her,

"(y/n), do you want to go out sometime?"

yuu nishinoya

march 14, xxxx

there's a girl that i like.

she's the same girl who i saw on the roof that day. she's the same girl who came to my gym. she's the same girl who bought me chocolates on valentine's day.

(y/n) (l/n) was the girl that i liked.

she was beautiful, the most drop dead gorgeous girl that i had ever laid eyes on. seeing her made my knees weak, and it made my heart race faster than it ever would— even during a game.

today was white day. she was standing there outside my gym, waiting for me to walk out. i had invited her originally because i wanted to see her, but i had nearly forgotten that i had bought her something.

i almost thought i would chicken out when i handed her the chocolates in one hand and the tickets to the movies in the other, but i think she nearly fainted just from looking at the gifts alone.

"what's this for?" she asked, her voice still as quiet as it always is. i've gotten so used to it that i could still hear her even if she talked so low that wind could only hear.

"i-it's for you," i barely managed to stutter out. when she took the items from my hands, i felt my ears grow hot even though our hands barely touched. "and i-i have something else to s-say!"

she tilted her head at me. "what is it?" i shook off my nervousness, inhaling deeply before shouting, "i like you a lot! will you be my girlfriend?"

her face went beet red, and before i could catch her,

she fainted.

yuu nishinoya

march 20th, xxxx

there's a girl sitting next to me.

she's not paying attention to me though, she's too busy watching the ducks play in the pond. she catches me staring at her, but i look away before she can say anything to me about it.

after i asked (y/n) out on white day, she fainted. but the next day, she walked up to me and told me this, "take me to the pond on march 20th and i'll give you an answer."

i didn't understand why she gave me a specific day, but i could only guess that it meant something to her. when i looked at her to ask her about it, she spoke over me.

"i'll be your girlfriend." she said with a dark crimson blush. "b-but... p-please don't break my heart. i don't think i could handle that.."

"i would never do that," was what i said. and i meant it.

only one of us had a broken heart in the end. and it wasn't her.

it was me.

but i didn't know that would happen.

at the time, everything seemed perfect but in reality,

it was then that things started to go south.

yuu nishinoya

may 19th, xxxx

there's a girl that i treasure.

i don't treasure her like an object, i treasure her because she has a special place in my heart. i wish she understood that, but she doesn't.

there's something strange about (y/n). something she isn't telling me. i don't want to pester her about it, but i can't help but worry. it always seems like she is never really here— like she's always somewhere else. she had always been that way, even in middle school. i never knew why, not even now.

"noya, you really are amazing," she told me. "i admire you a lot. not just because you're my boyfriend, but just because you're someone who's easy to look up to. not height wise though."

her smile was light, it was seamless, it was beautiful. but for some reason, i couldn't detect an ounce of happiness. i never understood how someone so gorgeous could look so sad.

"(y/n)... is there something you aren't telling me?" i ask, my voice laced with concern. she only smiled at me. she said nothing. she only smiled.

the same smile that was filled with pain.

yuu nishinoya

june 4th, xxxx

there's a girl that i'm always around.

she's rather gloomy, but i've actually grown very attached to her. i don't mind her gloominess, i actually think it's really cute. sometimes, she makes me laugh with the absurd things that she says.

the way i feel around (y/n) is hard to explain, even i don't understand how i feel. i love being around her, and when she's not around i always miss her, even if she's gone for five seconds. i think it's weird, but i feel like she's a part of me now. i can't imagine a day in my life without her.

i wish i could tell her everything i felt about her. i wish she would tell me how she felt from time to time. i know she's keeping a lot of things from me, but i feel like its for a good reason. i tell (y/n) everything, and she normally does the same.

so why does this bother me so much?

i understand. i respect her privacy. but does she not trust me? does she not think that i'll see her the same?

i'll fix it. i'll get her to see me as someone she can trust. i'll get her to see me as someone she can trust with everything she has without judgement.

i want her to trust me with her heart.

yuu nishinoya

july 27th, xxxx

there's a girl that i love.

we were walking home from the fireworks festival. there was an odd vibe surrounding (y/n), like something was bothering her. i didn't ask her about it, because well, i didn't want to pester her or pressure her into thinking she had to tell me anything.

but i had something to tell her, something i had been meaning to tell her for a while now but never had the chance. something that i wanted her to trust me with, something that i wanted her to trust in so blindly that she would always believe in me.

and so, standing in front of her door to her home, i turned to her with flushed cheeks, taking a deep breath before shouting,

"i love you, (y/n)! i'm in love with you. no words could describe the way i feel about you. i love you so much, that even the words alone don't feel like i'm expressing it enough!

i love everything about you! i love the way you dress, i love the way you style your hair everyday, i love how smart you are, i love how funny you can be without trying, i love how you can make me feel like the most luckiest guy in the world! i love you! and i'd shout it to the whole world if you wanted me to! i'd tell the whole school! i love you, (y/n), and i will for eternity!"

even with the flustered look on her face, she gave me a laugh. it was small, it was nearly lifeless, yet it was for me. and i loved it. she holds my hand in hers delicately, her thumbs caressing the back of mines with the most gentle touch.

"yuu, i think you're the best thing that has ever happened to me. i love you more than life itself. you are my entire world, you know? thank you for giving

me this love. thank you for giving me this happiness. i don't want you to ever forget me."

i don't get the chance to respond before she opens the door of her home to step inside. she gives me one last smile before shutting the door, a smile brighter than any star in the night sky, a smile brighter than any diamond i could imagine.

"see you tomorrow."

that tomorrow never came.

all i received the next day was a phone call that i knew would change my life,

"n-nishinoya-san...! (y-y/n)... s-she's..."

my heart raced in my chest, my breathing stopped in that moment,

"s-s-she's dead...!"

there would never be a tomorrow for us.

yuu nishinoya

september 2nd, xxxx

there's was a girl who loved me.

a girl who helped me. she helped me with so many things she didn't know about. she helped me live. she helped me grow. she helped me see. she helped me love.

she was everything i wanted, and more. i loved her with every ounce of my being. i loved her more than i loved anything in this world, i loved her more than my biggest passion.

why didn't i see? why couldn't i see how bad she was hurting? she tried telling me in her own way, i know she did. so why couldn't i figure it out? why am i so stupid? why didn't i do more? why couldn't i do enough?

why do i have to stare at the flowers that rest on your desk in our classroom? why do i have to get looks of pity from everybody? why does everyone whisper and offer condolences as if they knew you?

why didn't you tell me? why won't you answer?

why did you leave me?

—✰—

yuu nishinoya

october 21st, xxxx

there's was a girl who i wanted to spend my life with.

everyday without her feels like a lost cause. i have no motivation. she was the reason why i wanted to keep going, she gave me hope, she gave me encouragement. she told me i gave her happiness, when in reality she was mine.

how does someone cope with this pain? it's been over a month. nothing stops hurting. it just gets worse and worse. i fall in love with her memory more and more everyday. why did it have to be her? why did it have to be me? why did it have to be us?

i wish i could've given her everything she deserved. i wish i could've helped her value her life as much as i did. i wish i could hold her right now. i want to tell her how much i love her again.

i would give anything to have her back. i miss her so much, it hurts. everything hurts so bad. why won't the pain stop? why does it never end? i want to start over. i want to redo everything. i want to press rewind.

i want to live with you again.

a life without you is so hard to live in.

i love you.

—✰—

"good evening, nishinoya-san,” the woman greeted with a soft smile on her face. "its been a while, hasn't it? how have you been faring?"

"alright, i guess."

"i've read your journal entries," the woman pulled out the battered notebook from her bag. "it really helped me better understand what you're going through, nishinoya-san. thank you for trusting me with it."

nishinoya shrugs, his expression blank and eyes void of emotion as he took the notebook from the womans hands. “i mean, you asked for it so..”

the woman nods, crossing her legs with a never-ending smile. “i’m glad you wrote about how you’ve been feeling. it’s healthy to express your emotions in some way— anything is better than keeping them bottled up,” she states, her fingers adjusting her sleeves absent-mindedly, “do you think writing has been helping you cope, nishinoya-san?”

“you could just call me noya.. and i guess so? i think i finally have the motivation to do the things i like now. at first it was hard to get back into the rhythm of things but things are sorta better now…” nishinoya explains, eyes moving to focus on the journal that he clutched in his hands tightly.

“i’m glad you’re easing back into your life, noya-san. take your time, okay? healing takes time, and you have all the time in the world. heal at your own pace, don’t worry about who won’t stick around, just think of who'll be around after the storm. you understand?”

“um, yeah.” nishinoya swallows harshly, a bitter taste suddenly being left in his mouth. who’ll be around after the storm, eh? does it even really matter?

without you, my storm is everlasting.

“i know it doesn’t make sense right now. if i’m being honest with you, you’ll probably never get over miss (l/n)... but the whole point of healing is acceptance, and not allowing grief to take over your life,” the woman places her hand over his reassuringly. “it won’t be easy, it never is. but you’re strong, noya-san. do you know how i know?”

“...how?”

“because, you relived those painful memories of yours and put them in this journal,” she tapped the book in his lap. “you tried to cope with your pain on your own, before you even met me. you felt helpless, and yet you still desperately tried your best to crawl out. do you know what most people do? wallow in their own pain. you should be proud of yourself, you should be motivated. do you know why? because you will heal.”

nishinoya stared at the woman in shock, unable to hold back the tears that gathered in his eyes. “h-how could you say that...?” he asked, endless warm tears slipping from his eyes. “h-how c-could you say that i’m strong? i-i’ve d-done nothing b-but cry and beg to g-god that she would come b-back... i-i’ve done nothing b-but b-beg for my p-pain to be taken away.”

he sobbed. he cried so hard that it hurt. he sobbed so loud that his throat hurt and his lungs helplessly begged for air. “i-it... i-it hurts...! i want her back... i-i want her back so bad…” he wailed desperately. “i-i miss her! i w-want her back... i-i w-want to start over...! e-even just f-for a second, even i-if it’s just a-an illusion... i want to see her again...!”

the woman nods, her arms surrounding him in a comforting embrace, “i know you do. noya-san. i really get it, i promise. you’re doing great, and you know what? i want you to write in your journal again. but for now, i want you to let it all out, right here.”

and so, that evening on january ninth,

nishinoya cried until his eyes could no longer produce tears,

and he shouted until his throat hurt.

—✰—

yuu nishinoya

january 12th, xxxx

there was a girl that i dreamed of.

the roof is empty without her today. it's empty every day without her. everything feels empty sometimes, even my heart.

i tried to heal, i even asked for help, yet i still can't get over you. it's like you took a part of me with you when you left. i love you so, so much, that when i write about you, i have to suppress myself so the words don't spill out like waterfalls,

i have to suppress myself from succumbing to the darkness in my heart. without you, there's no light. even the sunniest days still feel dark. i miss you. i want to hold you again. this time, i won't let you go.

this time, i'll give you everything you deserved. even if you want the world, i would try my best to give it to you.

the rooftop is quiet without her today. it was quiet even when she was here but, now the wind doesn't whisper to me anymore.

when i turned to leave, i stopped. why couldn't i move? why was my heart racing? why was my holding my breath?

when i turned, i dropped to my knees in sorrow. but i also felt relieved.

with a smile of a million angels, there she stood.

she was right in front of me.

#anime #yū nishinoya #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya x you #nishinoya imagine #nishinoya fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyu x reader

[ssadumba55]

Emotions (Bernard the Elf X Calvin!Fem! Reader)

Request: Hi! May I request a Bernard x Calvin! reader where the reader has liked him for a while, but due to her having trouble showing affection/emotions and such so he doesn't know until the reader randomly kisses him shocking both of them while they're hanging out in the reader's room. I hope you're having a good day:)

The Christmas season had just passed and everyone in the North Pole was taking a lot of time to relax. After this week, they’d have to get busy making toys for the next year, but for now Santa, Mrs. Claus and the elves were free to do as they wished for a bit.

You sat on the porch, waiting for Bernard, the head elf, to arrive. Santa himself had gone away for a few days, spending some of his days off with your twin brother, Charlie. He had offered for you to come along and you’d almost considered it, but this was your once chance. Your one chance to spend more time with Bernard before preparations for next year took over and he became completely obsessed with his work.

“Hey, (Y/n), is Santa around?” Bernard had walked up the steps to your house, smiling slightly as he approached. He looked good when he wasn’t burdened down with stress from the holiday season. You quickly clambered to your feet, scratching the back of your neck.

“Oh. Uh. No. Dad’s out visiting Charlie,” You told him as he climbed the porch steps and you opened the door to your house. He followed you in, shaking his boots and hat of the snow that covered them. There was always snow in the North Pole, something you’d gotten used to after living here for so many years.

“Didn’t you want to go back with him? When was the last time you saw your brother?” He asked, shaking his hat and placing it back on top his head. You shrugged, nonchalant.

“Last year. Just because we’re twins doesn’t mean we have to be attached at the hip,” you said shortly. You had never been great at expressing your feelings for people. It was always your parents who initiated any sort of affection. That was part of the reason you’d stopped joining your father when he visited Charlie and the Millers.

Neil was always trying to get you to “open up” about your “feelings”. You had always been more like your father, choosing to keep it in rather than letting it all out, there was nothing you needed to let out anyway. You were perfectly fine.

Bernard didn’t argue with what you said. He had learned long ago that arguing with you on anything regarding emotions or family was a lost cause.

“Well, where’s Carol?” He asked as he followed you to the kitchen.

“She’s around. I think she might be down at the school, I don’t know,” You led him through the kitchen, grabbing some food before beginning the climb up the stairs to your own room. Carol wasn’t a bad stepparent; you actually liked her a lot more than Neil. She understood when to give you space and when you appreciated having someone around.

“So it’s just you around then,” Bernard finished, and you rolled your eyes, looking back at him.

“Is that a problem?”

He hesitated, part of him wanted to say yes. He had never hung out with you completely alone before; he’d never even been in your room. There were just some lines he refused to cross, but he had to admit he was curious. When you’d randomly invited him to hang out, he had been a little confused. The two of you were close but not close enough for that.

You opened the door to your bedroom, walking in as he paused slightly in the doorway. It was a typical teenage girl bedroom, nothing particularly jumped out at him.

The two of you sat in silence in the room, taking in each other’s presence.

“I need to tell you something,” you admitted, finally letting on there was a reason you’d invited him here, out of the blue. He looked up, leaning forward in your desk chair which he had decided was a rather safe place to sit.

You stood from your bed and he stood from the desk chair, not completely clear what was going on. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve said you were nervous. But emotions didn’t show that easily on your face, not since he’d known you and so he wasn’t sure if you were really nervous or not.

You quickly stepped forward, placing your hand on his shoulder and pressing a slight kiss to his lips. You couldn’t figure out how to say it to him without just showing it, even if you weren’t all that great with showing your feelings. You stepped away, looking away, focusing on something else in the room.

“(Y/n)?” Bernard asked tentatively after a moment of quiet shock.

You looked back to him, smiling awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find the right words to say and-“

He stepped forward, pressing his lips back to yours. You were surprised he was actually on the same page as you, but you wrapped your arms around him.

“You do have emotions,” he teased lightly, pulling away.

“Shut it,” you laughed, pulling his hat down in front of his eyes.

#Bernard the Elf #bernard imagine #bernard the elf x reader #The Santa Clause #the santa clause imagine #scott calvin #carol calvin

[marjansmarwani]

hold you ‘til the morning comes

1.6k || ao3

Carlos has known nothing but fear since he first got the report that a firefighter had died in the line of duty. After hours of wondering, here TK was: very much alive, but far from okay. But Carlos is not going to let him suffer alone.

Inspired by the scene in the promo of Carlos comforting TK --- Carlos Reyes Week Day 7: Anything goes

This idea came to me while I was watching the promo and @officereyes, being the wonderful enabler she is, encouraged me to write it. I carefully avoided any mention of who dies so I could be right either way, but I have my theories. Anyways, enjoy some Carlos introspection as he worries about TK 💕

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

When Carlos and Mya returned to the precinct, there was a tension hanging in the air. 

At first, he ignores it, choosing instead to focus on the path to his desk and the prospect of sitting down. A volcano erupting in the center of the city had left everyone a little crazier than usual, and after a full shift on patrol, he wanted nothing more than to collapse at his desk and bury himself in paperwork for the remaining hour. 

But as he and Mya headed to their adjoined desks, he could feel eyes on him. 

“Am I imagining things, or are people staring?” he asked his partner under his breath. 

Mya looked around and frowned. She paused in front of the desk diagonal to their own and stared down at its occupant, “What the hell is going on, Johnson?

Johnson, a young, quiet officer nearly jumped out of his skin at the mere prospect of being directly addressed by Mya. He swallowed nervously, glancing around the room before he responded as if hoping someone else would step in and save him. When no takers arose he swallowed again before speaking, “A report just came in. It...said that a firefighter died.” 

Carlos froze mid stride, a cold dread seeping through his chest. He turned and faced Johnson, catching the worried gaze of his partner as he turned. He kept his voice as calm and steady as possible as he asked the question he desperately needed to know, “did it say which station?”

Johnson shook his head frantically, nearly vibrating out of his seat with anxiety in the weight of Carlos’s gaze, “no, sir.” 

He felt Mya’s hand, warm and steady on his arm as she leaned closer, “there’s no saying it’s him, Carlos.” 

He nodded, jaw tight, but didn’t voice what he was thinking: but there’s no saying it isn’t either. 

Somehow his feet find their way to his desk where he sits, hyper aware of all the surreptitious glances thrown his way. It wasn’t just that it could be TK. It was that it could be Mateo or Judd, Paul or Marjan. It could be Owen, for all he knew. It could be any number of the members of the little family they had built for themselves in the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty, and Carlos didn’t want to lose any of them. 

But it could be TK, and Carlos didn’t know how he was supposed to live with that. 

The room was quiet and Carlos could feel more than one pair of eyes on him. He did his best to ignore them. He didn’t need their pity, and he had more than enough fear all on his own. He couldn’t really blame them though; in the months that he and TK had been together, his boyfriend had become known around the station. At first by virtue of being a fellow first responder himself, then later because he would stop by on days he was off to meet Carlos for lunch, or just to say hi. TK got on well with his coworkers, so he understood the heightened fear. They weren’t just worried for Carlos’s boyfriend, they were worried for their friend. 

He ignored the whispers and Mya’s concerned gaze and pulled out his phone, hands trembling ever so slightly as he accessed his recent calls. He tapped on TK’s name and waited, each ring another spike of fear being driven into his soul. All too soon the automated voice of the voicemail sounded and Carlos ended the call, placing the phone on his desk without a word or a comment to anyone. 

Not answering didn’t mean anything. TK often didn’t answer when he was on shift: it was hard to answer your phone when you’re scaling a building or doing whatever else the day might require. 

Or that’s what Carlos told himself, at least. 

He turned back to his paperwork, trying to bury himself in the routine, resisting the urge to check his phone every other second. The minutes tick by and soon his shift is over, but he can’t bring himself to leave. If he leaves and goes home to his empty condo, he might actually go crazy. So instead he stays, willing to trade off the unpaid overtime for the comforting monotony of paperwork. 

At some point, he realizes that the desk in front of him is still occupied too. He looks up to find his partner sitting resolutely at her desk, shuffling through her own paperwork. 

“Mya,” he began but she shook her head, effectively interrupting him. 

“I go home when you go home,” she declared firmly. “I’m going to be here for you no matter what, so just get over it.” 

Despite everything, he had to smile. “Okay,” he agreed, knowing when to admit defeat. He turned back to his paperwork, but not before checking his phone one more time. There were still no new messages, and he tried to ignore just how much further his heart sank each time. 

He had just turned back to his paperwork when the sound of loud voices outside the room filter to his desk. 

“They’re saying that fireman just ate it,” someone was saying, “he was dead before they could even get to him.” 

Eyes all over the room turned to Carlos, some more subtly than others, and clenched his jaw, determined to keep his expression neutral. 

“Carlos,” Mya began, already halfway out of her seat with the likely goal of telling whoever was talking to kindly shut the fuck up, but he shook his head. 

“It’s fine Mya, I’m just going to step outside and try calling him again.” 

She nodded and gave him a tight smile as he grabbed his phone and headed towards the back door. He opened it and stepped out onto the stairs, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air. It doesn’t fortify him as it usually does, but there is only one thing in the world that could make him feel better tonight. 

The fear that he has been burying inside his chest all night is ready to burst but he pushes it down one more time. There’s still no saying it’s him, there’s still no saying that he has anything to fear at all. He pulls out his phone with shaking hands, ready to try again and already dreading the sound of his voicemail. He’s just about to dial when he sees someone at the bottom of the staircase. He frowns, pocketing his phone. This isn’t the public entrance to the precinct. Most people didn’t even know it existed. He was about to call down, to see what the strange figure wanted when they stepped into the yellow light of the floodlight and their features came into focus and suddenly Carlos couldn’t breathe. 

He took the stairs two at a time, rushing down to TK, because it was TK. He was here, he was standing, and he was alive. He might just be the most beautiful thing Carlos had ever seen. 

He called TK’s name as he rushed down and when his boyfriend looked up at him Carlos was struck by the sadness in his eyes even from a distance. 

He slowed as he approached, taking in his appearance. He seemed to be unhurt, as far as Carlos could tell, but he looked smaller than Carlos had ever seen him. 

He stopped short of pulling TK into his arms, though he wants to so desperately. He studies him up close first, before speaking, “There were reports saying a firefighter had died and you weren’t answering your phone. I...” he trailed off, not sure how to explain what he had spent the past few hours feeling and not wanting to burden TK any more with his own feelings when the other man was clearly drowning in the weight of his own. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

TK’s voice is too small and Carlos’s heart aches, “It’s fine,” he assures him, “I’m just happy you’re safe.” 

He wants to ask what happened, he wants to ask all the questions echoing through his mind but TK is shaking and Carlos feels fear start to climb up his spine again, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” TK assures him, “I’m not hurt. I’m okay.” 

As they stand on the stairwell and look at each other Carlos reflects that in all their time together, that might just be the biggest lie TK has ever told him. He steps forward, hesitantly at first but when TK makes no move to stop him he pulls him into his arms, sheltering his shaking body with his own. He can feel TK’s body sag into his, losing some of the tension. It’s only a moment before he can feel his shoulder getting wet as TK’s body quakes with silent sobs. He pulls them down so they are sitting on the stairs and gently rests his chin on the top of TK’s head, running a hand in soothing circles on his back. 

His boyfriend is safe and he is beyond grateful. He wants to bask in the feeling of TK in his arms and the knowledge that he is safe, that he hadn’t lost him, but it feels selfish in the face of TK’s grief. He had lost someone today, and though Carlos doesn’t know the details, he understands. Whether or not it was someone from his station, whether or not it was someone from his team, the loss of any firefighter could feel like the loss of a family member. It could also serve as a reminder of what he stood to lose every day; that when the ones closest to you are the ones running into the fire beside you, there is so much more to risk.

Carlos would ask those questions later, he would help him through it, whatever it was. For now, they would just sit here, curled together in the stairway, savoring the warmth and existence of each other. 

Everything else could wait, for now. 

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #tarlos #911ls season 2 #my writing #carlosreyesweek2021 #userkimmy #userac #usermaximus #userjilly #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #jazzyjezz #aanathema