#to be fair she's still thinking about boys but just in a different way (harm to them)

[lycorim]

Oh to be twelve and consumed with girl rage

#sansa stark #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #game of thrones #my art #fanart #to be fair she's still thinking about boys but just in a different way (harm to them) #you watch your father get beheaded once and then it’s all ‘I want the king to get mauled by wolves’

[jaycewrites-192000]

In Every Timeline [Chapter One]

Taglist- @ameliabs-world

(If anyone else wants to be tagged, just let me know ^w^)

A young girl at the age of ten, makes her way home from school. She didn’t live too far away from her school, so she didn’t mind the walk to and back. In fact, she found herself enjoying the walks. It gave her some alone time, some time to herself, some time to think.

It was nice.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last long. Today, some middle schoolers decided to give her a hard time. She was stopped by two older boys, each of them trying to come off as intimidating.

“You lost little girl?”

“Where’s your little friends? Or, maybe…Don’t tell me you’re one of those friendless geeks!”

“I bet! Just look at her!”

She inwardly sighs at their attempts at scaring her and hurting her feelings. Though, what they said wasn’t entirely wrong. She really didn’t have any friends. It was hard to make friends at her school. Or rather, it was hard for her to make friends. She just gave up after a while.

She wasn’t sad about it or anything. She was doing just fine.

“Can you please get out of my way?” She finally speaks.

“Huh? Trying to order us around pipsqueak!?”

“Annoying little brat! We outta reach you a lesson!”

The two took a step closer to her. This time the sigh left her. She wasn’t a great fighter. She was only ten after all. But she did deal with her fair share of bullies, and she was able to take care of them on her own.

This was no different. Just two dumb bullies in her way.

The first one raised his fist and aimed it towards her face. She quickly dodged before deliver a punch of her own to his stomach. She wasn’t sure if he was actually hurt from it, or if it was just shock that made him stumble back. But she didn’t waste time as she did the same to the other, this time, kicking him in the gut as hard as she could.

“Damn you!”

The girl quickly tried running past them, but was grabbed by the arm and yanked back.

“Hold her still.”

One of the boys cracked his knuckles as he spoke. “We were just gonna let you go with a light slap on the wrist. But now you’re gonna get it! How would you like a few broken bones!?”

Just as he said this, fast approaching footsteps could be heard. And before she knew it, the one threatening to harm her was being kicked in the head. He was sent to the ground roughly, unconscious.

Standing above him, was a boy around her age. With a bored expression, he turned to the one holding her. “How lame. Picking on a little girl.” He muttered before rushing towards him. He jumped up into the air, and delivered the same devastating kick he dealt the first one.

He landed with ease, and turned to face the girl. “You alright?” He asks. The girl blinks before nodding her head. “Ok. See ya.” The boy says before starting to walk off.

“Wait a second!”

The boy stopped when she called for him. “What?” He asks. “How…How did you do that?” She asks him. “Do what?” The boy tilts his head. “The flying kick you just did!” The girl says, pointing back to the still unconscious middle schoolers.

“Oh that.” The boy says, placing his hands in his pockets. “I take martial arts classes with my grandpa.” He explains. “Can I do it too?” Her question confused him.

“Where is your grandpa’s dojo? I wanna take lessons too.”

“What? No way, you totally suck at fighting. It’d be a waste of time.” He says with a frown. The girl furrows her brows. “I do not!” She argues.

“I saw you trying to fight back against those guys. You barely left a mark on them. Then you tried to run away like a coward.”

“But there were two of them!”

“Which is why you shouldn’t have tried fighting them. Especially if you don’t know how to fight in the first place.”

“Then isn’t that even more of a reason to let me practice at the dojo? Then I can do those cool kicks like you do and I won’t have to worry about guys like that again.”

The boy sighs and starts walking away again. “No way. It would take you forever to get on my level.” The girl followed after him. “Like I said! That’s more of a reason why I should take lessons!”

“I already said no. And stop following me!”

“Not until you tell me where the dojo is!”

“No!”

This kind of back and forth between the two would go on for at least a week after that. It was by some stroke of luck that the boy went to the same school as her. So, she’d make sure to follow after him and try her best to convince him to let her take lessons with him.

But every time, he turned her down.

One day, she decided to follow him without him knowing. Sure it was creepy, but she was only doing it to find out where he was taking martial arts classes. After that, and after applying to join, she’d leave him alone. By then, she would have done what she had sought out to accomplish.

Her plan had proved to be successful, as she trailed him to the dojo. She waited for the boy to go inside before waiting outside. She didn’t mind the wait. It would be worth it if she could learn how to fight like him.

“What are you doing out here?”

The girl looks to her left, there stood a young man with jet black hair. A cigarette hung loose from his lips, and even from where she stood, she could smell a hint of motor oil off his clothes.

“I’m waiting.” She answers simply, causing the man to raise an eyebrow. “Waiting for…?”

The girl looks up at the dojo. “I wanna learn how to fight. But that dummy won’t let me!” She pouts. “What dummy?” Asked the man. The girl opened her mouth, only for it to fall close again. What…was that boy’s name?

“Uh. He’s short, and has blonde hair. And he does really cool kicks.”

“Oh, Manjiro?” The man asks. “You friends with him?” The girl shakes her head with a frown. “I don’t like him! He’s a jerk! He said it would be a waste of time for me to learn how to fight. I’m not good at it, sure, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn!”

The man nods. “I agree.” He says before taking one last puff of his cigarette, then tossing on the ground and stepping on it. “I’m sorry about my little brother. He can be a pain sometimes.” Brother? This guy is that jerk’s brother? But he seems really nice.

“My name is Shinichiro Sano. Who are you?”

“Y/n L/n.”

The two talked for a while before the doors of the dojo opened, letting some kids out. Among them, was Manjiro and some other boy he was talking to. Manjiro seemed to have noticed Y/n, as an annoyed look crossed his face. “You again.”

“Who’s that?” Asked the taller boy with him. “Some brat.” Manjiro answers. “Hey!” Y/n scowls. “Manjiro, why don’t you think Y/n can take lessons here?” Asked Shinichiro. “Cause she sucks.” Manjiro says, as if Shinichiro should already know. “She’ll just get herself hurt.”

“Hm. I think that’s a great reason to let her try.” Said Shinichiro. “What do you think Baji?” The other boy hummed. “I guess? I mean, couldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll talk to Gramps about letting you take lessons.” Shinichiro tells Y/n, making her grin. “Thank you!” She beams.

Manjiro rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He says as he walks ahead. Baji gives Y/n a small wave before hurrying after him. “Hmph. Jerk.” Y/n mutters, watching Manjiro leave. “Don’t worry.” Shinichiro starts.

“He’ll get use to you soon.”

Luck must have been on Y/n’a side. Shinichiro’s grandfather accepted her into the dojo, and lessons began right away. And just as Shinichiro said, Manjiro, or “Mikey” as he liked to be referred to, slowly got use to her being around.

But he was still a bit of a jerk.

As for Shinichiro, he couldn’t be sweeter. Y/n really grew attached to him, she would go as far to say he was like an older brother to her. That gave her even more of a reason to show up for lessons.

Y/n became friends with Emma as well, she was really nice to her when they met. Y/n was hesitant at first, but slowly opened up to her. Whenever Y/n wasn’t taking lessons, she was hanging out with Emma.

As for Mikey, he too eventually grew more comfortable with Y/n. Turns out she wasn’t completely hopeless after all. At some point, those two set aside their little dislike of each other, and became pretty good friends.

Y/n would get to hang out with him and his friends, in time, becoming friends with them as well. And being the only girl in a group of boys, their behavior and mannerisms rubbed off on Y/n. Among the group she had to admit, Ken, or Draken, was her favorite.

He was surprisingly mature for his age, only being beat by Mitsuya. And that was only by a little. As for the others though, they were just a bunch of boys. But back to Draken-

There was a point where Y/n had grown to see him as an older brother. He was nice but could get stern if he needed to. And he was a great protector. Y/n could understand why Emma liked him so much.

Y/n would have saved that big brother title for Shinichiro, as he was a great brother to the Sano kids. But honestly, she saw him as more than that. She'd go as far to say, he was almost like a father figure to her.

It was just Y/n and her mom back home, as she and her husband divorced a couple years ago.

Shinichiro kind of filled that emptiness that Y/n's dad left her with. He was always so caring, always looked out for her, always wanted to know how she was doing. He’d even let her hang out at the shop while he worked. It was quite the sight. He was so focused, and he did his job well.

He was just the coolest.

Y/n really cared about each and every single one of them. Which is why, it was all the more difficult when she had to say goodbye.

Mikey had noticed Y/n's behavior had changed lately. Y/n was less talkative, less active. She didn’t want to do much of anything with anyone. It was weird. So of course, he decided to confront her about it.

He caught Y/n on the way to Shinichiro’s shop.

“You’re acting weird. More than usual. What’s going on?” He asks. Y/n shrugged. “It’s nothing.” Mikey rolled his eyes. “You expect me to believe that? Tell me.” Y/n suddenly stop walking, Mikey did as well. “Well?” He pries.

Y/n's shoulders began to tremble, soft sniffles came from her as tears filled her eyes. Mikey was slightly surprised by this. She never cried in front of him, or anyone, before. “Y/n?”

“I’m moving away.”

“What?”

Y/n wipe away her tears, sniffling before repeating herself. “I said, I’m moving away. Away from Tokyo, away from Japan all together.”

“Why?” Mikey asks, trying to ignore that funny feeling in his chest. “It’s because of my mom’s work. We’re leaving in a week.” Y/n tells him. Mikey fell silent, the only thing that could be heard was her sniffles and soft cries.

Everyone found out eventually, and they were just as upset as Y/n was. But there wasn’t anything anyone could do. She was leaving, and she didn’t know when, or if, she'd be back.

Ok! First chapter done! Chapter two is already in the works as this is being published, so hopefully you guys will get to read chapter two soon.

I hope you all enjoy this series!

#tokyo revengers #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo revengers mikey #mikey x reader #majiro sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #spoilers

[cemoras27-but-writing-this-time]

Danny's Evil Jaunt. It's Evil He Swears. Ignore the Charity pt. 1

Hi! its me again. I saw this prompt thing on @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 and it had me in a choke hold and held me hostage until I wrote it. Its where Danny becomes a supervillain using his machines instead of his ghost powers! Have Fun!

AO3: Here

EDIT: the text color should be fixed now I think let me know if it isn’t

“Hello Daniel,” Clockwork greeted Danny as he entered the Clocktower with wringing hands. The young halfa had been incredibly stressed ever since Dan, hiding any perceived negative emotion in his attempts of the best timeline. An appreciated thought and effort, however more harmful than the boy anticipated. Perhaps he should listen more to that sister of his a bit more.

“Heey Clocky, um I just-”

“You're worried about Dan.”

“Yeah. I was. I just- just want to make sure that things are still looking good y’know!” Danny said, arms flaring out to his sides dramatically. “I’ve been behaving! I haven’t lashed out at anything. Haven’t even pranked Dash or his friends!”

“Daniel,” Clockwork turned from the timeline he was observing.

“What’d I do?” Danny’s eyes filled with palpable panic.

“Nothing. However, suppressing your emotions will do nothing but cause harm to those around you and yourself. Come.” The shifting ghost laid a hand upon Danny’s thin shoulder, and led them to a small table that Danny wasn’t entirely sure was there moments before. There was a small tea set he noticed as the baby Clockwork set Danny in the comfy chair. “However, I think I may have a solution. A way for you to ‘lash out’ as much as your core can handle.” Danny’s eyes glisten in interest; similar to those stars he adores so much. “I will take you to a different realm, similar to your home, and you may concoct as much havoc as you wish. I will pause the time in your home so that you may continue your life as you want. All I ask is that you truly allow yourself to let your emotions run their course, else I worry for the future.” 

“What? Like a rage room? Like the ones that they give you a bat and let you go ham? That sounds cool…” 

“I suppose that is a fair comparison. I won’t allow any consequences to come  to you either. It is supposed to be therapeutic after all. All you must do is let me know and I will give you access to the realm.” Clockwork grinned, blue hands -now old- creaking around the teacup that he filled at some point. 

“You sure nothing  bad will happen? What if I-”

“Nothing of the sort will happen. If you need guidance I and others will be happy to lend you a hand. Though now that I have you here, how are your lessons with Wulf going? Have you successfully made a portal?” Danny perks.

“They're going good! I actually made one to come here. I like how Wulf teaches,” the half-ghost chimes, an airy quality unknowingly weaving its way into his voice. His Espernato is getting better the Keeper of Time notes, enough for it to slip into regular conversation. How nice.

They talk for a while after that.

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

Danny stares at the small hole in reality, an adult Clockwork stands beside him and takes the first steps forwards.

“Beyond this portal is the realm where you may do as you wish. You may take as long as you like, and the consequences will not apply to you. Again all I wish is for this to be therapeutic. Your sister gave you quite the monologue, didn't she?” The old time piece drones, stepping to the side to allow access to the portal and gestures for Danny to step through. 

On the other side is an open field. The grass is yellowing in the lowering temperatures as the familiar autumn chill flows through them. Clockwork emerges from behind him. 

“We are close to a rather large city, Star City I believe, home to several heroes. You can open portals consistently now yes?”

“Yeah! Thanks again Clocky, this- this means a lot y’know” Danny stammers. 

“Of course Daniel. I am here to guide. Please let me know how you find your visit.” 

“Are you ever gonna call me Danny?” He only gets a small smile before Clockwork floats back into the portal - it closes- and he is left alone.

Danny turns and takes a deep breath in, and starts to think as he heads towards ‘Star City’. What should he even do? He thinks hard before coming to the conclusion that, if he became evil by holding in his emotions, then why couldn’t he just be evil while feeling. Why not let his anger and disappointment and sadness run amok? After all, there are no consequences here! But he doesn’t want to be Phantom, as much as he loves being Phantom, he's so tired of the consent ghost attacks and being shot at by ecto-guns. 

The halfa takes a small break and sits by the dirt road he had been following, maybe it was time for Danny Fenton to do something. He was a Fenton! His parents built a portal to Hell in their basement using household Items, sure he wasn’t as book smart as Jazz or a techie like Tuck, but he could whip up something he's sure!

With newborn vigor Danny sets off again while drawing up his plans. 

A world where he could do anything he wants. The world is a big place. He wonders if Dani would want to visit.

Tag list: I saw that some people wanted to be tagged if anyone wrote something

@amuseofminds @roseinbloom02 @starkcravingmad @little-pondhead

sorry victoria-has-no-secret I can't seem to tag you correctly

#dp x dc #sorry if its formated weird i will try to fix it #also im not good at tagging so if it is wrong please tell me #propted #I cant change the color of text back to normal on desktop im sorry #Cem's writing

[olderthannetfic]

Per the conversation about how people use suicide or self-harm threats as manipulation and you have to give up that you can “save” them in order to get over it: I think it was “crisis friends” who did this in situations where I fundamentally could not do anything that helped me with that. I had a friend who seemed to always have her “I think I’m going to kill myself” and then if you didn’t respond immediately “and see, no one cares” when I was traveling in a situation that (at that time, in the early 2010s) I couldn’t get WiFi or even a mobile connection on my phone — for instance, she’d always seem to do this when I got on an airplane, or on a long subway ride where it went underground. Along with that I eventually realized this pattern was no accident, like, what can I do when I was literally not available to get in contact with her in any way? (And she was also in a different time zone from me, too. If she needed genuine support she probably would’ve asked someone closer to home.)

She legitimately did have serious mental issues — so did the horrible roommate who also gaslit me, so do a lot of these people — but that still doesn’t mean that you’re at fault because you can’t suspend your whole life to take care of them. People can be genuinely hurting and also be abusive shitty people.

I think that those extreme experiences help you really to understand how the mental health struggles of people in your social circles are not your responsibility— they CAN’T be — and help you realize you aren’t a bad person for just preemptively muting vent channels or keeping your distance from people who pull that shit on the regular. It’s the same as how you often have to get picky about which charities you donate to bc you probably don’t have infinite money. You don’t have infinite care or time or energy to go around either, and it’s fair to get tired of spending it on people who are constantly demanding it, and instead reserve it for true friends in a genuine once-in-a-while crisis. The Boy Who Cried Wolf is such a popular story for a reason.

Your mental health problems are not your fault, but they are your responsibility.

--

[startanewdream]

Inspired by this art, only I thought let's make this more emotional. Or how Minerva McGonagall receives the news about James Sirius Potter's birth.

The message comes in the early hours of the morning, before she leaves for breakfast. A short note, attached to a barn owl.

Professor Headmaster, if there is no trouble, would you join me for a drink at The Hog's Head tonight? — Harry.

It's funny how she still recognizes his handwriting after so many years; it's the "g", Minerva thinks, there's something very specific about this letter and the way Harry curves it.

She scribbles a quick note in answer, then ties it to the owl's leg. It's a beautiful creature that reminds her suddenly of Harry's white owl, whose wings were once harmed—and then Minerva heard what happened to the owl a few years later. Harry had looked so nervous about the state of the bird...

She shakes her head; age is making a fool of her again, too lost in memories. She dispatches the owl and tries to focus on the present.

It's after seven when she leaves the castle grounds to walk to Hogsmeade; it's a slow walk, and Minerva tells herself she will just floo back to Hogwarts later—she is getting too old for this walk, maybe this is a sign—

Hogsmeade is quiet on that Friday night; she thinks about how busy it will be the next day, with a school trip to the village — she'd heard the students talking excitedly, discussing what they would be buying—and that makes her steal a glance to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes down the street. She will need to warn the caretaker to be more careful than usual for the next week.

The Hog's Head is as busy as ever, which is to say full of shady people sitting by themselves, mostly covered; she sets a mental note to remind the Head Boy and Head Girl to watch out that no student wanders here. Then she looks around; in a dim corner, Harry is waiting for her, and he stands up when he sees her.

There is always a mingle of happiness and strange nostalgia when she sees him; except for the joy in his green eyes, he barely resembles that eleven-year-old boy that joined her house—and if she thinks further, to that baby she once delivered to a family that didn’t deserve him, there is only proud as she sees how well he’s grown up.

Harry is a fine man. Not because of his work as Auror, not because he defeated Voldemort, not even because of all those things he faced so bravely; but rather because he is a simple, fair, noble guy who believes in doing the right thing.

And he looks very well, if only slightly tired, as he shakes her hand.

“Hello, Professor,” he greets, smiling (when Harry smiles, and that’s Minerva once again being dragged by her own memories, he looks a lot like Lily). “I took the liberty of asking for your favourite.”

“Gillywater,” she says approvingly, watching the drink on the table as she joins him. 

“Not Rosmerta’s, but it is still good enough—or so Aberforth tells me.” He throws her an embarrassed look. “I am sorry for asking you to come here—this is the only place reporters aren’t pestering me these days.”

“I believe a bunch of reporters here would disband Aberforth’s business.”

“Oh, his goats keep them away,” Harry says fondly. “You look good, Professor.”

“I look older, you can say it.”

He laughs. “We are all older.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Don’t quote me on this, but I found my first grey hair.”

Minerva has silver hair for long enough to just find his concern amusing, but she doesn’t smile. Harry is evidently happy tonight, teasing and carefree, very different from what he looked like when he was her student; it reminds her of another young boy she once taught, but that is the problem: that boy was forever young. He never spotted any hair other than a dark one that was never tamed.

She sips her drink, admonishing herself for being so sour.

“Finding one grey hair is okay,” she says when she can trust her voice. “The problem is when you do not find any other colour.”

“That’s true; Ginny said I looked dashingly mature—and it’s bound to worsen in the future, I am sure.” His words seem ominous, but Harry looks nothing but glad.

“If you have any issues with grey hair, I don’t recommend a teaching career for you.”

“Maybe in the future—Professor Potter rings nicely, doesn’t it? Would you hire me?”

“If not, will you jinx the post?”

Another laugh. “No, I will understand. I was never the most disciplined student.” He looks around. “And I promise not to start another clandestine club.”

“That is a relief. I am too close to retirement for such emotion.”

He blinks. “Are you serious?”

She sips her drink again. “It’s been a thought. I’ve been at Hogwarts for more than 50 years — seven generations of students—”

“I thought you would stick around for an eighth one.” He fumbles in his pocket until he finds a picture. “I cannot imagine Jamie not being taught by you.”

“Jamie?”

“Here.” And he shows the photo of a crying baby, all wrapped in a blanket, safely held by his parents. Harry and Ginny look tired but they are beaming in the picture; but her attention is all drawn to that newborn baby.

Babies should look all the same, not distinct features until a few months later, but she swears he looks exactly that baby she once dropped at his aunt’s house—and then there is a fierce desire to protect this innocent child, to not make the same mistake again because she will be damned if that child doesn’t get all the love he deserves, all the love his parents should have shared—

Harry is watching her rather expectantly, and Minerva breathes out again. Harry survived, Harry is fine now—and the baby, Jamie, will never share his father’s fate.

“James,” she repeats, not minding how her voice sounds muffled. “That’s a nice choice.”

“There was no other option for Ginny and I.” Harry sighs contentedly as he looks at the photo. “He is such a loud baby, and he’s keeping us all night awake but he sleeps nicely during the day—he’s growing well and—”

Harry sounds so proud—not, he sounds bewildered as if he doesn’t believe still he gets to be this happy, to live this life—

“And this is the most recent photo,” he adds, then showing her another picture; in this one she can spot the baby’s dark hair.

“Potter hair,” she says warmly, finger stroking the photo. 

“I think it’s a bit lighter,” he says. “It looks almost red under the sunlight. And his eyes… I thought it looked a bit like Ginny’s, but she said they are hazel.”

“Oh.” 

“Professor,” James would say, his grave voice betrayed by the glint of mischief in his hazel eyes, “how can Filibuster Fireworks be against school rules if they weren’t even invented when Hogwarts was founded? I am sure that’s what you call a ‘loophole’, so you see, we cannot get detention—”

She inhales deeply. “Congratulations to you and Ginny. I am very happy for you.”

“Thanks.” He watches her. “We are christening him this Sunday, at the church in Godric’s Hollow. We would be very happy if you were there—so you can meet him, hopefully only eleven years sooner than you thought.”

Minerva smiles. “With such a namesake, I am sure this will be the last time I will find any peace in his presence.”

“Oh,” Harry grins. “Actually, two namesakes. We named him James Sirius.”

Minerva takes a generous sip of her gillywater. Retirement sounds almost nice, but she cannot let anyone inherit such a challenge. “I hope you get used to grey hair, Harry,” she notes. “You will get them sooner than you think.”

#Minerva and Harry #I don't know how to tag this #Minerva McGonagall #James Sirius #Harry Potter #They are happy here I swear #also it bothers me to think that Minerva would give up #she would protect James Sirius so much

[naexity]

UNREQUITED. NISHIMURA RIKI

Pt. 1 of YELLOW

You remember the first time you saw the good-looking intern from japan. His hair reached his eyes in a wavy manner with thin-lined gold-rimmed glasses almost falling off his nose. You immediately told yourself you wouldn’t like him because, to be fair, he looked like a playboy. It also didn’t help that the first time you saw him was in a cafeteria. 

The second time you saw him, you were a part of a volunteer group that agreed to help with taking care of animals. You were allergic to cat fur, so you decided to stick with the dogs. Unbeknownst to you, the Japanese boy chose to help out the dogs as well. 

It felt heart-wrenching looking at him because you knew you would never be up to his standard. You felt your heart squeeze a little every time he pushed up his glasses or when he pushed his hair back a little because it was getting in his eyes. 

You were watching from afar as he talked to various different girls from your volunteer group, wishing you had the confidence to go up and talk to him. The little part of you scolded you for being such a coward but the bigger part of you told you to not make a fool out of yourself because he was never going to like you. 

The first time you got his name, you were acknowledging each other’s presence. He talked to you only briefly and you kept your conversations with him short. Every time he was around, you felt impulsive to either shut up or do something obnoxious just to get his attention. 

Nishimura Riki, his name was engraved in your head. Each time you saw him leave for his home when volunteering got over for the day, you always regretted not talking to him enough. You always noticed his coloured converse from afar, his brunette hair and of course, his gold-rimmed glasses. 

And before you knew it, you were falling. 

The both of you only met because of the volunteering that your college brought up, him being an intern that was going to stay for only 2 months, after which, he would be going back to Japan. You knew better than to hold on to some false hope but you still did. 

You’ve seen him with girls a lot before. Sullyoon, Sakura, Heejin, you name it, they’re probably always with him. You were used to seeing him with girls surrounding him and it didn’t bother you much. 

You decide to tell your friend about your small crush on the Japanese boy, but that was probably the first time you felt so jealous in a long time. 

You tried your best to grab his attention but you realise you were probably going about it in the worst way. At least he praised your way of taking care of dogs, that was something, right? Not really. But you’ll take it. 

Actually engaging in a conversation wasn’t something that struck you because you were so immersed in trying to act like you didn’t care about what he was doing, or about where he was. 

And of course, your friend beat you to it. 

You’re not mad at her, you could never be. She’s pretty, she’s really good at singing and she’s everything you wish you were. She’s strong and she’s really popular. She was everything every girl around wished to be. 

So when she told you that she would try to set up the cute Japanese boy with you, you were albeit, shy but not telling her not to. In a sense, she was just doing what she said she would do. Talk to him about you. 

But eventually, you realise that things aren’t going to be all rainbows and flowers. Nishimura Riki was taking interest in your friend and there was nothing you could do about it. They’re just friends, you tend to remind yourself, but each time you see him strolling over to your friend’s side, you feel a little bit unsure of what you’re trying to tell yourself. 

You know your friend doesn’t mean any harm, she’s just engaging in a simple friendship. She’s just reciprocating the kindness Niki is showing her and each time you feel dumb for even hoping for something. 

Nishimura Riki is intimidating. Not in a way that you think, but he just oozes an aura that you’re attracted to but want to run away from. You don’t know how your friend talked to him but you sure as hell wish you were her. 

Eventually, you were shifted to take care of the birds while Nishimura Riki stayed taking care of the dogs. Your friend was still in the dog department and you notice them getting really close. Sighs left your mouth way too many times, you couldn’t remember what it was like talking to him. 

The only time you see Nishimura Riki is when everyone gathers around for volunteering the first hour. And every single time, you keep seeing him with the same friend of yours. 

You can’t even blame him for liking her because she’s so nice, she’s so pretty, she probably gives him butterflies. 

And you hope he’s happy but you couldn’t deny the hurt you felt whenever you tried to talk to him to only realise he’s too invested in the conversation he’s having with your friend to even begin to pay attention to you. 

And every single time, you try distracting yourself with that obnoxious flirt from your college, the one that wouldn’t leave you alone when you first joined but forgot about you after a few weeks. Funny how you realise you didn’t have a lot to find joy in.

It’s not long until Nishimura Riki and your friend get into a relationship, and you try your best to look happy for them. You really do, but every time you turn around, you feel your smile drop. 

It’s hard. It really is.

The day Nishimura Riki leaves for Japan, you don’t show up at the airport to bid him goodbye like the rest of the students of the college did. 

That day, you stared at the ceiling and wondered how it felt to be someone else. 

How it felt to be someone that someone liked.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm having a frustrating time with my love life LMAOO. :')

#nishimura riki #niki fluff #niki angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen fic #enhypen reactions #enhypen imagines #enhypen angst #heeseung #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #enhypen heeseung #jay #jay fluff #jay angst #enhypen jay #jake #jake fluff #jake angst #enhypen jake #sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #enhypen sunghoon #sunoo #sunoo fluff #sunoo angst #enhypen sunoo #jungwon #kimi's: work

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word count: 4608

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, enemas, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30s), omorashi

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty. Steve's the care worker who's been developing too much of an attachment.

Wait! I think I missed a previous chapter! Series Masterlist

Chapter 9: Persistent Genital Arousal

Previously:

This may be (and hopefully is) Bucky's last day as a Hydra patient, but that doesn't mean he won't have some group classes and therapies left to attend with the other boys in his cohort that afternoon and evening. Steve will just have to find a way to fill his own time, leave Bucky to his schedule, and hang in there while he gets the ball rolling to secure Bucky's release into his custody.

That afternoon, Steve completes a plethora of paperwork. He submits his recommendation for Bucky’s care, fills out a formal application for custody, and hands in his letter of resignation to Raynor.

He’s completely transparent with her about his intentions, and Christina isn’t just fair in her response: she seems downright pleased. She does call him a traitor for leaving Hydra, but she’s smirking when she says it, so Steve knows he’ll still be getting a stellar reference from her.

He is officially quitting, but Bucky’s still a patient on-ward—with all the services afforded one—for at least the next twenty-four hours. So to avoid interrupting his scheduled therapies and groups, Steve tries to keep himself busy, closing out his cases and saying goodbye to some of his more friendly coworkers. Hydra Sanatorium might not be the nicest or the most well-funded place, but for a county-run institution it’s always done the best it can with what it has for the people who come through its halls. Lord knows Steve has. After five years of working there, doing his best to help the people that he could, Steve hopes he made some sort of a difference. In one case, at least, he knows he has.

Later in the day, he goes looking for Bucky and finds him with the rest of his cohort in the soft room. A lot of the boys are napping, the rest of them engaged in various stimming activities. Steve doesn’t immediately spot Bucky, but the room attendant points him towards one of the nesting pods. When Steve pokes his head through the little circular opening into the cave-like space, sure enough there his boy is: nestled amongst an impressive collection of blankets, throws and pillows.

Inside it smells heavenly, Bucky’s scent built up in the air. All sexually mature omegas experience something called persistent genital arousal, or PGA. It can be more debilitating for some, and it’s definitely more intense at certain points of their cycles, but in general Steve’s heard it described as a low-level thrum of arousal—like what one might feel from touching themselves idly from over their underwear while watching mediocre porn. Essentially, omegas really do always have sex on the brain.

The resultant smell they give off is, of course, one easy identifying marker for any omega out in public, and Bucky is no exception. The nesting pod is already thick with his scent, sweet and cloying, and Steve finds himself breathing in deeply to get more of it as he crawls inside. He smiles when Bucky’s sleepy eyes peek open and register his presence. The boy is beautiful. “Hey,” Steve murmurs.

Bucky lets loose a huge yawn and stretches with a lazy smile, his hair all floofed in different directions and his eyes nothing but puffy, squinty slits. “Stteeeve,” he hums, reaching for him with grabby hands. “Mmm. C’mere.”

How could he ever resist? Steve crawls over and settles next to him, pulling their bodies close together. “Hey you.”

Bucky’s already purring as he wriggles up against him. “Mmm. Hi.” He shoves his face into Steve’s chest and rubs his cheek against his pec, scenting him. “I took’a nap.”

“I can see that.” Steve’s mood is already in the stratosphere, because he’s suffused with Bucky’s scent: happy, safe, content—and yes, mildly aroused—omega. It’s infectious, making Steve’s body respond with all of those same feelings and more. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than right here, tucked into a tiny, warm nesting space with his omega. 

“His” omega, because Steve’s already started thinking of him that way. The transition feels almost seamless, feels natural, like maybe Bucky was his long before he knew it. He rumbles in his chest to match the boy’s purr and holds him close. “Missed you,” he murmurs, speaking against the softness of his hair. “How’s your day been?”

They’ve only been apart for a few hours, but after the intensity of their morning together, Steve hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Bucky’s wellbeing all day, even though he knows he’d left him in a good place, mentally. He’d made sure to bring him down from the high of their sensory session, had tenderly changed him and dressed him in warm, soft clothes, checked that his body’s lingering confusion from the therapy wasn’t anything that was going to cause him discomfort or distress during the day. He’d personally escorted him to his life skills group, kissing him on the cheek and promising to find him later, even watching from the doorway for a few long minutes until he could be certain that Bucky was relaxed and taking to the company of others well.

Now, in the safe confines of the nest, Steve kisses his hair again. “Good?”

Bucky does a happy little wiggle. “Mmm, good,” he mumbles, still seeking contact through the way he rubs himself against Steve’s body. “Missed you.”

It’s like he can’t get close enough, like he’s stubbornly trying to dig himself a space inside of Steve. It’s adorable. Steve smiles and rubs his back. “Me too, Honey. I’ve been getting a lot of things sorted out, so that I can take care of you after today. If you want.”

Bucky peeks up at him. “‘If I want?’”

“Yeah.” He knows that this is a talk they need to have, now that Bucky’s sober and fully back in his head. Steve doesn’t think there’s a high chance that Bucky’s going to change his mind, but they still have to discuss it. Because Steve would be a bad person—and a garbage Alpha support—if he didn’t give him the chance to decide for himself now.

And he’s going to have to tell Bucky about the castration issue. As much as Steve hates it, he can’t deny the sheer medical facts. It’ll help Bucky. His body produces too much testosterone as it is, his testes given too much time to develop before he finally presented. They’ve always known that the elevated hormones are part of what contributes to Bucky’s aggression and his struggles. Steve takes a deep breath and forces composure into his voice. “So, my boss asked me to put in my recommendation for you.”

“Recommendation for what?”

“Um, since your folks signed over custody, the state is in charge of you now until you turn twenty-five. That is, unless you find an alpha guardian to take care of you in a personal capacity. But you know, Hydra isn’t really … it’s more of an acute care facility, right? So even if you didn’t have an Alpha, you’d still have to go somewhere else, like a group home or a treatment facility that’s geared toward longer term stays. My boss asked me to submit my assessment of what your needs are and where you should go. It’s called an ongoing care plan.”

In his arms, Bucky tenses up. “My ongoing care?” he repeats, uncertain.

“Yeah Honey.” Steve tries to smile reassuringly. “There are lots of places where you could go to live other than with me, if you wanted. Nice places.”

Bucky’s face crumples in distress and he keens lowly. “But I … I mean, I thought …” His lip trembles. “You changed your mind? Don’t you want me?”

“What?” Steve’s heart sinks at the way Bucky’s looking at him—as if he’s just revoked a promise Bucky had been counting on. “Oh, Honey,” he mourns, pulling him in close again. He cradles his head and kisses over his hair in apology. “No, no bub. I do want you. I was just trying to be fair and give you all of your options. I didn’t want you to feel obligated. Didn’t want you to feel like you had to make that choice to go with me.”

It’s immediately obvious that his words calm Bucky down. The scent of distress dissipates as quickly as it had formed, and their dimly lit nesting pod is once again filled with nothing but cozy, happy omega pheromones. Bucky butts his head into Steve’s chest and grumbles at him for having scared him. “I always want to go with you, Steve. I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

Steve strokes his back. “Okay, okay. I understand.” His hands dip under the soft fabric of Bucky’s top, tracing up the vertebrae of his spine. It feels good to have the connection of their naked skin again. Steve hums and flushes, aware of his cock having a vague but growing interest. It’s all chubbed up in his briefs, tingling with a low level of arousal. And even though he has little intention of doing anything about it right now, it’s still nice to feel when he’s close to Bucky like this. He turns in towards him a little more, pressing him back and down into the nest with his bodyweight. The boy’s legs part for him on instinct and Steve hums, pleased. He slots his thigh between Bucky’s legs and tucks his face into his neck. “I just want to make you happy, Buck,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like you have to do anything other than what you really want. And if it takes you time to figure that out, then you’re allowed to take your time.”

“Nooo, Steeeve. I want you to be my Alpha. I don’t need to take time. S’stupid.”

Steve scoffs fondly. “Oh yeah?” He searches out the slight swell of Bucky’s bonding glands beneath the skin, closes his lips over the spot, and sucks. Bucky gives a surprised little ‘meep!’ of a sound, then pretty much melts full-body into the blankets. Steve chuckles. “There’s a lot that comes with that, you know. Having an Alpha you’re bonded to is different than just what we do here.”

“Mmm. Yeah. Like you said before, in the bathroom when my tummy was full. You said you could be my for-real Alpha.”

Steve kisses where he’d sucked, the spot now pinked and swollen. “Do you know what that means?” he whispers. “To have a for-real Alpha?” Bucky shivers pleasantly in response to the question, but Steve’s not just asking to get him worked up over it. “Buck,” he prods gently. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Means you’d be in charge a’ me,” Bucky sighs, his scent shifting as he grows more aroused. Beneath Steve, he squirms purposefully against the weight of his body. “I’d live with you, right?”

“Yeah. You’d come live with me and I’d be in charge of you.” Steve nuzzles against him, not missing the way that Bucky’s breath catches in a tiny little sound of pleasure. “Hey now, you might not always like that.” He playfully nips his skin. “There might be times when you’re mad as a hornet at me. That won't change anything. I’ll still be your Alpha. You’ll still have to listen.”

“... Could I still call you Daddy?”

Steve groans and turns his face away from Bucky's neck while the omega giggles at his reaction. “Yeah, Buck. You could.”

“Mmm, and you’ll still call me bub?” he asks, looking up with shining eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. “I um … I kinda always liked that you called me that. Even back when I was new and mean to you and stuff.”

Steve smiles tenderly at him. “I know, bub. That’s why I always did.” He kisses him softly, just once, on the lips. The first time he’s ever let himself do so.

Bucky’s wide-eyed by the time Steve pulls back, looking like a whole new world of possibilities has just been opened up to him. “Oh, man,” he breathes. “Do we get to have sex whenever we want?”

Steve laughs, taken aback. “Buck,” he scolds, but he’s already dipping back down to kiss him again. “Yes. Though I do have to keep a day job, so you can’t go full-on nymphomaniac on me.” Bucky whines and Steve kisses back down to his neck and seals his lips over his tender glands to suck some more. “Mmm, you’re swollen here, Honey,” he murmurs, kissing the spot, thinking that he’ll have to check the kid’s chart to see if he’s nearing estrus. It’d make sense, given how reactive he’s been lately. And, oh god, they’ll definitely need birth control. Steve would love to breed Bucky up, but that’s not something they should take lightly. It’s too soon to pup him, not when so much else is in flux, and Steve still needs to tackle the castration issue with him. There’s a lot to be done. Everything is changing. Steve sucks hard on his glands in one, long pull.

“Oohh,” Bucky moans, both hands coming up to run through Steve’s hair. “Oh, S-steve. Mmm. That feels so good.” He hitches his leg up higher on Steve’s hip, rocking against him, and Steve indulges him by driving his thigh forward to give him more firmness to grind on. Bucky whimpers and jerks. “Oh!”

“Mm hm.” Steve gently scrapes his teeth over the swollen spot on his neck. “I’ll need to bond you, if you’re living in my household long term.”

Bucky whimpers and nods, hips shoving up harder at the feeling of the alpha’s mouth on his glands. “Okay,” he gasps. “Yeah, Steve, do it. I'm ready.” His fingers dig into Steve’s shoulders and he cranes his head further to the side, presenting himself for a bite.

Steve chuckles, the sound morphing into a groan at the end as he denies himself and moves his face away. “Mmm. Not right now, silly. You need to be in heat for that to stick.” He gives him a peck on the lips. “Besides, it’s supposed to be something special.”

“Special?”

“Mm hm.” It kind of breaks Steve’s heart that Bucky doesn’t know this, though he supposes the kid couldn’t possibly have had many positive exposures to A/o relationships, growing up with the family he did. Steve kisses him again, explaining, “We’ll make it nice. Relaxing. Bonding is something special we’ll do in private.” They may currently be sequestered in this dark little space, but Steve sure doesn’t count a communal nesting pod in a state-run Sanatorium to be the appropriate place for such an important, intimate act.

He crawls off of Bucky and moves over to the side, sitting up in the mounds of soft nesting materials with his back against the pod’s wall. “C’mere.”

Bucky happily crawls over to sit in his lap. He straddles him, and Steve’s hands settle at his hips. Steve smiles at the bright teal clothes the kid is wearing now. After their sensory session that morning, he’d helped Bucky to get changed, and teal pants with a tangerine top was what the omega had wanted to wear. “All these years of navy blue,” Steve teases. “And it was just you being stubborn, huh?”

Bucky huffs and squirms, but he doesn’t deny it. “I always liked the colorful ones. I just never picked ‘em because I … I didn’t want to be this way,” he admits softly, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Didn’t want to be just another omega. Dumb and drooling in my rainbow patterned sweatsuits.”

“Bucky,” Steve chides. “That’s not nice. The other boys on-ward don’t deserve that kind of talk, do they? ”

Bucky flushes and looks away. “No,” he mumbles. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean it.”

Steve sighs. Just because Bucky wants to be with him doesn’t mean that the kid’s suddenly going to be well-adjusted. He's got so much internalized omegaphobia from being raised by his asshole parents, it isn't even funny. Steve gives his waist a squeeze and tells him, “Hey: you’re still going to have to go to some therapy, bub. I hope you realize that. Just because you’re leaving here doesn’t mean there won’t be rules and discipline. It doesn’t mean you don’t still have issues you need to work on.”

Bucky grumps about that a little, but eventually he nods his head in understanding. “What rules?” he asks shyly. “‘Discipline’?”

“Mmhm. That mean consequences if you act up. I’ll never be harsh with you, Honey, but being someone’s Alpha also means correcting their misbehavior.”

“Like … like spanking?”

“It could be, yeah.” Steve personally believes in gentle domestic discipline for omegas, so long as it’s administered fairly. He watches Bucky’s reaction carefully. “How does that make you feel, hm? If you knew you might get spanked if you did wrong?”

Bucky squirms a little in his lap before he’ll admit, “I dunno. Maybe embarrassed but … kinda nice, too.”

Steve tilts his head to try and catch Bucky’s eyes. “Nice?” he prods.

“Yeah. Kinda.” Bucky pouts and shrugs. “I dunno. I guess it just, um … it makes it seem like you care about me. Like you’re enjoying takin’ care of me.”

Steve’s heart warms, and he kisses Bucky’s forehead. “I do, baby. I care about you a whole lot, okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky sits there thinking it over, sucking his lip into his mouth and releasing it repeatedly. “What are the rules gonna be?”

“Oh, well … I don't know them all yet, but we'll figure it out. Just be good in general, I guess. Don’t make messes, don’t be rude to people, listen to what I tell you to do. That sort of stuff. My place is in Flatbush, not too far from here. You’ll have to be good, stay there when I go to work. I’m looking at changing jobs, so we might have some time together to start off at first, but then you’ll need to mind yourself when I’m away.”

"I'll be good," Bucky promises, sounding adorably determined. It makes Steve smile.

"I know, bub." He strokes the side of Bucky’s head, running his fingers through the soft curls that he’s come to love so much. “We’ll make you an area in the apartment to nest up real nice, just the way you like it. And I can get some stimming tools if you need ‘em, for during the day. I don’t want to see you ignoring your needs like you have been.” At Bucky’s hips, he digs his fingers in meaningfully, crinkling the plastic of the diaper beneath. “And these,” he says, arching a knowing eyebrow when Bucky peeks up at him. “You still need to wear them.”

Bucky looks mortified, but he does eventually give a reluctant nod. “I know,” he grumbles. “I wasn’t gonna argue about it.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm mn.” He’s blushing and avoidant, bites his lip and tries to wiggle away, but stills when Steve holds fast. He sighs. “I mean I guess I don’t hate ‘em so much.”

“No?”

“Mmn. Not … not when it’s just in private,” he admits. “Sometimes they even make me feel kinda, I dunno, kinda safe. … And when you take care of me with ‘em. That part feels really good.”

Jesus. Steve grips him harder and rumbles deep in his chest, praising him for his honesty. “That’s good, Honey. That’s what they’re for.”

Bucky’s physical level of need for the diapers isn’t actually all that high. He has the same small, spastic bladder that most omegas do, and he suffers from the typical pattern of stress incontinence. Most of his wetting occurs when he’s upset, aroused, or asleep. He could feasibly attempt daily life without them, though accidents would happen. But beyond the practical, it’s the emotional impact of wetting that’s so huge for someone like Bucky. That’s why consistent diapering has always been part of his therapeutic program at Hydra. It’s one routine that Steve intends to maintain once he’s got Bucky home and living with him. “It’s nothing to be worried over,” he reminds gently. “Remember what we talked about?”

Bucky sniffles and nods. “... S’normal,” he recites, voice tiny. “Lots of omegas wear ‘em.”

“That’s right,” Steve praises. “And Alphas don’t care. We like taking care of you. We like seeing you feeling safe, and knowing when it feels good for you.” He sees the color rise in Bucky’s cheeks and hums knowingly. “It’s okay when you enjoy the feeling, bub. Like how you did this morning? That’s totally okay.” Bucky whines and squirms a little, and Steve shushes him. “Hey now: I mean it.”

He uses his grip on Bucky’s hips to rock him in his lap a little, and Bucky squeaks and grabs onto his shoulders, pushing into the motion reactively before he can shame himself out of it. Steve hums, pleased. He leans in and takes Bucky's mouth in another, coaxing kiss. That seems to be the key to disarming the boy. He moans and gives another uninhibited roll of his hips. He keeps going, grinding against Steve’s crotch and panting quietly.

Steve smiles and holds him while he rocks. Ever since he ducked into the nest, he’s been able to smell the general level of arousal that Bucky always carries with him. But now it’s heavier, the distinct scent of new slick and a more urgent sort of need coming to the forefront. All Steve’s talk of discipline and acceptance and care has gotten Bucky worked up. He hums encouragingly as the omega stims himself against his lap. “Aw, Sweetie. There you go. That feel good?”

“Ah, uh huh,” Bucky pants quietly, eyes going a little muzzy as he starts to lose focus. “Oh, Steve, ff-feels good, nnngh …”

“Good. That’s all I want, honey. Just want you to be happy and feel so good. Don’t need to worry about a thing, okay? Cause I’m your Alpha and I like you just like this. Rocking in my lap, doing what feels nice, just being a sweet n’ happy omega for me.”

Bucky chirps in a way that he rarely does, his hips juddering forward hard. “Oh! Steve I … I have to …” He squeaks and tosses forward, burying his face in Steve’s neck and whining plaintively.

Steve tuts and wraps his arms around him, still guiding him in the rocking motion. “What’s up, bub, huh? You have to go?”

Bucky nods fast against his shoulder. “Nnn! But, but …” He shakes his head back and forth, trying to fight it. “Nngh …”

“Okay, okay Honey. You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about.” Steve wraps his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck and grabs him in a firm scruff. He slides it up into his hair and pulls, using his grip to guide him back a little. Bucky yelps and meets him with wide eyes. “Shhhh,” Steve hushes, shoving his other hand down inside the front of Bucky’s pants. Bucky’s eyes go even wider. “It’s okay, bub,” he soothes, hand cupping the bulk of the padding and rubbing. “I know you just don’t get it. And this is me showin’ you. Cause I’m gonna keep you right here, and I’m not moving my hand until you let go for me.”

Really, he’s sure he’ll have Bucky naked and straight up wetting in the middle of sex in the very near future, but for now this’ll do. They are still in the hospital, after all, and this is still a communal nesting pod they’re in. If nothing else, Steve knows that the orderlies would not appreciate the mess.

Bucky gulps in a huge shaky breath and nods frantically, tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes as he gets overwhelmed. “Okay, okay,” he pants, grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders fiercely while his squirming gets frantic. “Oh god, S-ssteve …”

Steve kisses his forehead, murmuring non stop praise and love at him. Finally, Bucky tenses up and goes stock still. “Theere it is,” Steve coaxes, jostling his hand as he feels the warmth start to spread. Bucky moans and loses control completely, going limp as a noodle against Steve’s front and panting as he loses control. “Good boy.” Steve keeps murmuring it against his skin, giving pulses on the swollen crotch of the diaper with one hand and petting up and down his back with the other. “Good boy. That’s my good boy, Bucky. So good.”

Bucky doesn’t go all embarrassed, after. He stays a little dazed, in his head, chirping and humming at Steve when he encourages him to come out of the nest. They walk together to the bathroom, and Bucky does speak on and off when prompted; little 'yeah's and 'no's' and ‘okay’s. So he’s not quite non-verbal, and he’s definitely not in a fugue or a fit of any sort. No. He’s just a soft, contented, aroused ball of very happy omega.

In the bathroom on the changing bed, Steve is hardly surprised to find a pool of slick and a chubbed up little cock underneath the diaper. “Would you look at that,” he chuckles, going about cleaning him up. Bucky starts to whimper afterwards as he’s lying there, clean but exposed and untouched. “Please,” he begs, proving that he can, in fact, speak. “Please Steve?”

“Of course, Honey.” He wasn’t planning on denying him, poor thing. Steve smooths his hands over Bucky’s inner thighs, right up to the crease of his groin. He brushes his fingers over his half hard penis, back and forth a few times, just teasing it lightly. “How do you want me to make you cum?” he asks, only anticipating that Bucky will either ask him to touch his cocklet or else use penetration. He is not prepared for the kid’s breathless request of,

“Suck me, please.”

He freezes, taken aback. Oral sex—giving or receiving—is not permitted between Alpha Supports and their patients on the ward. Steve’s not precisely sure why, when digital and device-aided penetration is done every single day, but at some point in history, some guy writing the rules drew the line at oral. Anything that could be easily twisted to gratify the Alpha support rather than the omega patient is strictly forbidden. Steve has actually never given head to an omega before—patient or otherwise.

But he’s suddenly, achingly hard at the thought of doing so. “Oh, Honey ...” he hedges. “I don't know if ...” He grimaces at the pleading look on Bucky’s face, the anxious, wanting pinch in his brow, and finds himself throwing all his reservations aside. Fuck it, he thinks. He’s been professional long enough. Bucky’s going to be his by this time tomorrow, anyways. “Okay, Baby,” he says, giving in and rubbing over the boy’s belly with one hand. “Okay. You want that? Want to feel Daddy’s mouth on your sweet prick?”

Bucky keens and nods, “Yeah, please.”

“You ask so sweet,” Steve praises, sinking down his body, trailing kisses from his neck to his chest, down to his belly and the base of the sweet little cocklet he’s got between his legs. Steve tells him how pretty it is as he kisses it, mouthing over the softness. It’s only half hard, never really getting rigid, but it's still more to play with than the average omega has. Steve pulls him into his mouth and sucks until he gets an orgasm out of him. Bucky shudders hugely, his little prick squirting a tiny bit of useless seminal fluid, but nothing more. Steve pulls off, rubbing his inner thighs soothingly as he comes down from it. “Good?” he asks.

Bucky shudders and nods, smiling dreamily. “Thank you, Alpha,” he breathes. “We can do that all the time?”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, Honey. There’s nothing off limits anymore once I take you home with me. You can touch me and ask me to touch you any way you like. Whatever you’re curious about.” Steve is well aware that, outside of his treatment on-ward, Bucky is very sexually inexperienced. There’ll be a lot of firsts, once Steve brings him home.

Bucky's eyes have slipped closed, and Steve takes a moment to stare. He pets his belly, trailing his hand down to the boy’s wet little cock and further down to his balls. He plays with the soft skin, considering him. Bucky’s shrunk up some in the past three years, but he’s still bigger than he should be. Steve imagines what he’ll look like, after the procedure. There’ll be a bare space there, room to press and stimulate him. Steve's never had much of a preference with male omegas, finding both the little pocket of looser skin left after a castration and the tiny, coin purse sac of an intact omega to be attractive, in their own ways. But he can’t deny that he likes the aesthetics of a cut omega.

“Bucky?” he says softly. “There’s something I have to talk with you about, something we’re gonna have to do eventually. And I don’t want you to be scared, so hear me out, okay?” He waits until Bucky opens his eyes, a little wrinkle of worry forming between his eyebrows.

“What?” he asks.

Steve cups his sac and rubs it gently. “Here,” he murmurs. “You’ll need to have these removed, Sweetheart. Do you know about that?”

Bucky tenses. “What? N-no,” he looks pleadingly up at Steve. “Why?!”

“It’s something they’ve had written down in your chart for a while,” Steve admits. “I’ve avoided bringing it up until now. We had more short term parts of your treatment plan to work on, and I didn’t want to upset you. But I’m going to bond you, Sweetheart, and I gotta take care of you. This is what all your doctors have been recommending.”

Bucky keens miserably. “I don’t want to. Please. Please don’t make me.”

Steve hushes him, rubbing his belly and cupping his balls. “It’s such a simple procedure, Sweetheart. Lots of omegas are cut. Your body had a little too much time to develop. Remember how we talked about that?”

Bucky whimpers and nods uncertainly. “Y-yeah.”

“You’re bigger than most omegas down here,” Steve tells him gently. “Your body’s making hormones that you don’t need. It gets you all confused. That’s part of what makes you get so angry sometimes.”

Bucky whimpers. “Will it hurt?” he asks tearfully.

It’s such a naive question that it makes Steve’s heart ache. “No, Honey,” he soothes. “Not very much at all. You’ll just go to sleep while they do it. And then you’ll have nice pain medicine to keep you comfy while you heal. We’ll get you nested up at home. You’ll probably sleep a lot. You can watch movies and eat as much ice cream as you want,” he coaxes. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Bucky sniffles. “I don’t wanna.”

“I know, I know. It’s new and scary, but it’ll be so simple, I promise. I’ll be right there to take care of you, okay?”

Bucky sniffles for a few more minutes, but then he nods meekly, giving in. “Okay,” he whispers. “You’ll be with me the whole time?”

Steve bends down to kiss him. “The whole time,” he assures. “You’re such a good boy, Bucky. It’ll be okay. Do you trust me?”

Bucky doesn’t hesitate to nod this time, and Steve rumbles low in his chest, pleased. “Good boy,” he praises. “Once you’re healed it’ll feel nice,” he promises. “You’ll have an easier time getting pleasure from here.” He touches Bucky’s hole gently, circling the rim. “Release will be easier.”

Bucky’s still nervous, Steve can smell it on him. But he calms down enough for Steve to get him in a fresh diaper and dressed again. He can hardly believe the conversation went the way it did. If Steve had attempted to talk about this during Bucky's last stay on-ward, he's nearly positive he would've had a meltdown on his hands. But Bucky accepted it so easily.

“So proud of you, bub,” he praises. “Come on. Let’s go get you some lunch, huh?”

By four fifty, he’s said goodnight to Bucky and promised to be back the very next day, when he’ll see him discharged from his stay on-ward and bring him home. He clocks out and takes the train to a specialty omega shop up in Queens, where, along with a bunch of nesting supplies, he purchases Bucky a nice collar to go home in. It’s pricey and has all the bells and whistles, from inflation features and removable D rings, to insertable scent chambers and a GPS locator. Steve figures he must really be giving off the 'new Alpha' vibe, because the saleswoman smiles at him indulgently and says “congratulations” as she’s ringing up his purchases.

"Oh. Thanks." He blushes and tries to keep a straight face, but can't help but wind up beaming anyway.

At home he takes the tags off all of the purchases and sets them aside tidy and ready for Bucky, excited about how the kid will react when he sees his new things and gets to experience someone taking care of him properly and spoiling him for the first time in his life.

Geez, Steve thinks, by tomorrow he’s going to have an omega living with him. He feels giddy about it. Even with knowing Bucky’s personal issues surrounding his designation, Steve still isn’t worried. He cares so deeply for Bucky, loves him even, at this point. And he knows that no matter what obstacles they may face going forward, this is the best thing that he could do for the omega.

He flits about the apartment that evening, full of nervous energy but in a fantastic mood. He shoots off a few emails, one to Sam, inquiring about job possibilities at Shield or other local private practices. Even if there isn’t a position available at Sam’s firm, Steve is still very confident in his ability to find a new job. He’s got excellent qualifications, and omega healthcare is a chronically understaffed field. He’ll have to give up the role of support Alpha, though. At least in a sexual capacity. It wouldn’t be fair to put Bucky through that, coming home each day smelling of other omegas. Steve couldn’t do that to him.

He tries to fill his evening up with distractions, but it’s hard. He surfs a few job boards half-assedly, scent marks the stuff he bought for Bucky, makes a microwave dinner that he can barely taste, and watches an episode of a show he’s been following. Nothing gets his mind off Bucky for long. He’s simply too elated and impatient for the next day to arrive. So when eleven P.M. rolls around and he’s still wired as fuck, he goes rooting through the medicine cabinet, downing four Benadryl tablets in an effort to get at least a modicum of sleep in for tomorrow.

Predictably, he wakes up earlier than usual. Rather than closing his eyes again until his alarm goes off, he forces himself to don sneakers and go for his usual morning run, pounding out a few extra miles because he’s got the time and because he needs to burn off some of this nervous energy. He goes back home, showers, changes. He heads for the Sanatorium with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a skip in his step. 

God, he thinks as he keys into the hospital’s ground floor, the building really is ugly: very outdated, institutional, depressing. He’s gotten so used to it over the past five years. He’s glad that Bucky won’t ever have to come through its halls again.

Stanley isn’t at the security desk when he passes by, and Steve’s kind of glad, since for the first time in a long time he’s forgotten to grab their usual morning pastries. He leans through the security window and snatches his badge from the wall, heading for the elevators.

Raynor intercepts him at the double doors leading onto the ward, her mouth set in a grim line.

Instantly, Steve is on high alert, tension pulling through his body. “What happened?” he says, already panicking that something awful has happened to Bucky in the last sixteen hours. “Is he hurt?”

“No. His parents showed up. Come on.”

Steve’s guts sink and harden with dread, yet at the same time he doesn’t really have the chance to work himself into a true panic, because they’re on the move. Raynor marches straight to the conference room, inside of which they find a somber-faced orderly at the door, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes seated at the table, and Bucky huddled down over in the far corner, having a bit of a fit. Steve instantly recognizes it as another stress fugue, though thankfully it seems to be less severe than the one he’d found him in yesterday. He’s still got all his clothes on and he isn’t humping anything, so that’s a plus.

Steve hurries over and kneels down next to him. “Buck? Oh Buck, Sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here now. I’m right here with you, Baby. Please don’t cry.”

Bucky’s huddled on the floor, tearfully rocking in place, one arm wrapped around his knees and the other hand up at his face, sucking two of his fingers. Steve wipes his cheeks and kisses his forehead, heartstricken at seeing him so upset. “Shh sh sh, Honey. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He remembers his backpack and slings it off his shoulder, unzipping it and dumping half its contents on the floor in search of the collar inside. He finds it and starts putting it on him, getting the buckle closed and the pressure points lined up with Bucky’s glands. “Can you get something for his mouth?” he tells the orderly at the door. The man nods with wide eyes and hurries out of the room. Steve finishes with the collar and fits the little air pump to its port, squeezing it until the pressure points in the lining have all inflated. Bucky’s breathing calms down considerably just from that. Steve rumbles low in his chest for him, giving him the sound of his Alpha’s approval. “Good boy,” he Voices, petting his face soothingly. “So good for me, bub.”

“Excuse me."

Steve looks back over his shoulder and meets George Barnes’ scowl with one of his own. “Be quiet,” he growls at him, making the man’s face go slack in sheer surprise. “Trust me, I’ll be right with you,” Steve grits. Turning back, he continues to murmur quiet, comforting words for Bucky to hear and latch onto; telling him how he’s right there and he’s not leaving, how he’s his Alpha and Bucky’s his omega and how they’re safe and good and everything is going to be just fine. Bucky whimpers and pushes himself closer to Steve, still crying sluggishly, but he’s non-verbal and even if he weren’t, he’s still got half his hand shoved into his mouth, his body’s reflexes in full gear as he tries to calm himself down.

Behind, Mrs. Barnes is complaining at her husband to “do something,” and Bucky registers her shrill voice and starts to rock a little harder. Steve winces as he sees the red indent of where Bucky’s started chewing on his fingers.

Luckily that’s when the orderly returns, and he hurries over to give Steve the suckling gag he’s brought. “Thanks,” Steve grunts, glad to see that the guy actually had the foresight to bring along a container of PheroGel for the thing. Steve exhales in relief and takes it from him. It'll help Bucky calm down. “Good thinking,” he mutters, maneuvering Bucky so that he can coax his hand away from his mouth and feed the rubber head of the gag past his lips instead. Bucky parts easily for it, accepting it with an anxious whine. “Shhh, there you go.” Steve velcros it in the back and checks the fit, then opens the valve and fills the chamber with the PheroGel.

Bucky makes a tiny, surprised sound when the taste reaches him, his cheeks hollowing as he returns to suckling instinctively. Steve smiles and encourages him. “That’s right. You just focus on that, okay?” He pets Bucky’s face and watches as he visibly calms down from the pressure of the collar and the feeling of something heavy and Alpha-scented in his mouth. “There you go, Sweetheart,” he soothes. “Just close your eyes and focus on how that feels. Can you do that for Alpha?” Bucky sniffles and nods tearfully, and Steve’s heart squeezes as he watches his eyelids start to droop closed. “Good boy,” he praises him once more. The gag is a slow suckle design, so Bucky should be able to keep using the pheromones to self-soothe while Steve works on dealing with the Barnes.

He’s enraged that they’re here at all. Steve fully intends to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Forcing himself to pull away from Bucky and stand, he’s stone faced by the time he turns around to face the Barnes. He walks over to stand across the conference table from them. They’re sitting side by side, but Steve doesn’t pull out a chair to join them. He locks his arms and leans with his hands braced on the back of a chair. “What are you doing here?” he says, letting his full displeasure come through in his voice.

For a second, both of the Barnes look a little bit intimidated. Unfortunately, that doesn’t last. George Barnes seems to recover some of his willpower and squares his shoulders to glower back at Steve. “We came to get him,” he snaps, sparing a disdainful glance towards the corner where Bucky is huddled. “We came to take him home and now they’re telling us we don’t have permission. ‘Permission’!”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s bullcrap. He’s our son!”

Steve smiles nastily at him. “Well unfortunately, Mr. Barnes, You signed paperwork relinquishing custody of him.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake. That was only a few days ago! We’ve changed our minds, so you just get him packed up or, er …” he glances back over at Bucky and winces in disgust when he sees his son: collared and rocking and stimming with the sucker strapped over his mouth. “Just get him ready to go. Take that crap off him. We’ve found somewhere to put him, and he’s coming with us.”

“‘Put him’?” Steve repeats, frowning.

“Yeah.” George raises his chin defiantly, looking every bit the asshole that he is. “Found out he’s actually worth somethin’, even like this.” At ‘this’, he casts another disdainful look in Bucky’s direction. “Milking center up in New Rochelle takes cases like him. Said they’ll pay six grand up front.”

Steve sees red so fast, he has to hold on tighter to the chair for a few seconds. “What?” he says, the word coming out quietly only because he’s so breathlessly fucking mad. “Are you fucking shitting me right now?”

George Barnes’ snide expression is more than enough of an answer. “At least he’ll be useful, not a leech on society.”

In his head, Steve hears Bucky’s tearful, bitter words from two days ago: 

“Just a waste of hardworking people’s tax dollars!” 

An unpleasant groaning sound meets his ears, before he figures out that it’s his own hands, stressing and warping the plastic backing of the chair. He pulls them away and glowers across the table at the other man. A fucking milking center, he fumes, wanting to pick the chair up and put it straight through George Barnes’ smug fucking face.

Because Steve’s been to those places, has been called in to evaluate the omegas housed in their custody. He’s seen the warehouse-sized rooms: filled with rows and rows of omegas, fat and sedated, restrained to benches and hooked up to machines, bred and fed and watered and hosed down in place, like animals.

Christina steps in, probably because she can sense that her employee is about to unleash imminent violence on their visitors. “Unfortunately, the law is clear in this matter,” she tells Mr. Barnes, as no-nonsense here as she is in any other situation. “You signed all legal rights to James over four days ago and you no longer have any say in his care. The hospital has full custody of him, and we’ve already approved a long-term guardian for him.”

“What?” George Barnes stands abruptly from his chair, sending it rolling back to thunk against the wall in his haste. “What are you talking about? You can’t do that! I’ll … I’ll get a judge. There’s no way you can just—”

“There’s every way we ‘can just’,” Steve growls, unable to restrain himself from being unprofessional at this point. Fuck it. He doesn’t work at Hydra anymore, so unlike in times past where he’s been forced to make nice with less than stellar parents, now he can say exactly what he’s thinking. “You are a piece of shit, garbage human being, who shouldn’t be allowed to raise a fucking dog let alone a child. I think that you should leave now. In fact I strongly advise it. Forget about ever seeing Bucky again—because you never will—and just be grateful that you got away with the level of abuse that you did for so many years without ever being charged in a court of law.”

George Barnes opens his mouth, ostensibly to say something pissy, but before he can, Steve tacks on:

“Oh, and in fact you should be very grateful that you did sign those papers when you did. Because if you hadn’t? You’d best believe I’d be making sure you’d lose custody of all your children before you ever got him back. Now why don’t you pick your jaw up off the floor, help your wife heft her sloppy ass out of that chair, and leave this place before you’re thrown out?”

Of all things, it’s the comment about Mrs. Barnes’s weight that fuels George Barnes into action. He gets alarmingly red in the face, and it’s to the background noise of his wife’s insulted screeches that he starts to come towards Steve (presumably with the intention of hitting him). But before he can so much as round the end of the conference table, Stanley is bursting through the door.

“Hold it! Not another move, Buster!”

At Stanley’s back, Rumlow is standing with his taser gun drawn and pointed right over Stanley’s head. It’s that sight which seems to catch Mr. Barnes’ attention, and he pulls back from where he’d been approaching Steve, hands raised and gesturing for his wife to get up, too. “Alright, alright. We’re coming. Geez.”

“Sure you were.” Stanley sports his tough guy face, proud of himself, and ushers the Barnes into the hallway. Steve’s opinion of Rumlow inches marginally higher when he sees him hurriedly holster his weapon and step back, so that Stanley doesn’t realize he’d had a little bit of backup, there.

With the Barnes led away, Steve returns all of his attention to Bucky. The tension of this confrontation seems to have had surprisingly little impact on him, and Steve is especially pleased when he sees that the orderly had at some point managed to get both a blindfold and a pair of noise cancelling headphones on Bucky as well. With the positive stimulus of the collar and gag, he’s much calmer. Steve hurriedly takes the headphones and blindfold off, followed by the gag. “Hey, hey baby.” He’s petting all over Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression and scent the state he’s in now. He’s surprised when Bucky blinks a few times and then looks up at him with clear eyes.

“Steve,” he breathes.

“I’m here. It’s okay. You don’t have to go with them. You’re safe. You got your words back?”

Bucky blinks some more, looking between Steve and the place where his parents had been sitting at the conference table. “... They can’t take me, right?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, Buck. That’s right. They can’t. They legally can’t.”

Slowly, Bucky’s expression starts to brighten. He smiles. “But you can take me,” he says hopefully. “To live with you. Because you’re my Alpha now, right? And I’m your omega?”

Steve doesn’t even think of propriety, he just leans in and kisses Bucky straight on the mouth. Bucky’s lips are so soft, and he whimpers and responds so eagerly. Steve forces himself to pull back before he can get carried away. “Yeah, bub,” he says happily, trying not to get emotional in front of Raynor. “Yeah. You’re my omega now.”

In reality, they’ve probably got close to a half day’s worth of paperwork and consent-confirming counselling sessions ahead of them. But in the way that Bucky’s asking about? Yeah. They already belong to each other.

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[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 18

are we finally getting somewhere with the trial? please??

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

was tempted to start this chapter with toko waking up and gasping 'i think i like girls!!'

wanted to say that everything would've been resolved way earlier if people were just a little nicer to toko before remembering that aoi was literally doing that and she STILL obsessed over byakuya. can we get this girl to a therapist please

shoutout to @digitaldollsworld for reading this at ass o'clock in the morning while i was still writing it. a real hero tbh

Content warning tags: self-deprecating language, implied self-harm, canon-typical manipulation and language

< previous - from start - next >

There’s a moment of stillness. Someone shouts in alarm, and a few people nearly step away from their stands with intention to help. But just as quickly, the dark figure slumped behind the rail begins to clamber slowly upwards, hands bracing against the balusters as she totters to an upright position.

Slowly, carefully, Toko Fukawa stands up straight, trembling all the while. “I-Is this a trial? W-what’s going o-on?!”

The stammer certainly sounds like Fukawa.“...Toko? That’s really you, right?” Asahina tries tentatively. “Um, are you okay? Are you feeling alright?”

“I…” She looks around, hands fisted tight around her braids, twitching with the same nervous quality of a bird. Her eyes must have landed on Byakuya, and the venomous stare he was giving her, because she squeaks and cowers again. “I-!”

“Chihiro’s body was found today. Approximately twenty minutes after you left the library.” He says coldly, words clipped and harsh. “Kyoko says you were both in the boy’s bathroom before the body discovery alarm. Can you verify this?”

“W-what?!” She stutters. “I-I don’t know w-what’s going on, I n-never know-” She’s shaking violently, as if she’s about to faint again.

“Let’s try a different question.” Kirigiri cuts in. “Toko. What were you doing between 12:30 and 1 o’clock today?”

“Wh- A-are you accusing me of s–something?!”

“No. But everyone else has given testimony on their whereabouts during this time. Yours would help grant us a better understanding of the course of events.” Kirigiri says patiently. Fukawa sways for a moment, thinking carefully, before she answers.

“Th-the library,” She half-mumbles, hands twisting in her braids over and over again, the black coils weaving over her pale fingers like eels. “Um, I w-wanted to talk to B-Byakuya alone, so I w-went to the library, a-and we t-talked for a bit…and then-”

He suddenly realizes what she’s about to say, but it’s too late to stop it. “Then, u-um, he h-hit me…w-with a book.”

He can feel eyes turning towards him, and the air turns disapproving. He scowls back. “She’s left out the part where she tried to blackmail me with the secret that she peeked at the other night.” He explains, and at once Fukawa flushes darkly and begins stammering something out.

“I-! I wasn’t b-blackmailing you!”

“What other word should I have used then? Manipulation? Coercion?” He asks sarcastically, and she shrivels and withers at his words.

“I told you m-my secret too, s-so it’d be fair-”

“You told me you were a serial killer who targets the men you fancied. Forgive me if I wasn’t immediately won over.”

The atmosphere turns a little less hostile at that. “Okay, yeah. If it’s like that I kinda get it.” Hagakure is nodding sagely, as if he understands everything. “But, seriously. You shouldn’t hit girls, man…”

“...Are you really going to do this now?” He just needed this trial to be over, already. The adrenaline of the earlier reveal had worn off, and now he felt sick with anger and exhaustion. “The whole thing barely took ten minutes. I wasn’t interested in dragging it out any longer than I had to.”

“Still, hitting is sort of-” But Hagakure shuts up at the glare Byakuya gives him, and quickly amends. “Never mind. Gender equality. Especially in self-defense. Cool, got it, my bad.”

“So, I suppose it is safe to assume that the source of the blood on your hand, and the book from earlier, was because of this confrontation?” Celeste asks. And, without waiting for an answer: “Then, that would also mean that the reason you were holding that file on Syo was due to what Toko had revealed to you.”

She sounds all too satisfied with herself for reaching that conclusion. “And so, it seems that the most damning evidence that had been implicating you has been disproven. Is that not reassuring?”

“...Don’t patronize me.”

“Why, I wouldn’t dare.” She laughs lightly, a soft sound that perfectly conceals her shrewdness.

“Toko. Please, continue.” Kirigiri says again, and there’s a quiet rustle as Fukawa yanks at her hair, the strands scraping over her fingers.

“A-after he h-hit me, I left…u-um, I went to the bathroom t-to w-wash my face, and when I touched the faucet - I-I mean, I wiped my f-face with my hands earlier, a-and the b-blood…” She trails off and shakes her head, and shoves her face into a fistful of her hair. 

Byakuya suddenly recalls something, something that Fukawa had mentioned during their confrontation in the library in a hurried, muttered tone. “Syo comes out when you see blood.” He remembers aloud, and her incoherent words begin clicking together.

Her pale face immediately darkens to an ugly, blotchy pink. “Yeah, um. I-I’m scared of b-blood, so…a-and when she’s out, I d-don’t have any m-memory of what s-she does.” She cradles her face in her hands, swaying a little like a swooning maiden. “S-so you did remember…” She mumbles, apparently to herself, and he feels his stomach turn with disgust.

It’s not worth wasting the effort on her to think of a response, so he opts to ignore her fawning instead. “So Toko left the library and went to the boy’s bathroom, and fainted after seeing the blood on her hand.” That seems logical enough, but something about this sequence of events bothered him. 

According to Kirigiri, Syo only woke up shortly before the body discovery. If Fukawa went to the bathroom right after leaving the library, why had it taken so long? And that aside, there was something that bothered him about her story. Something that he couldn’t place a finger on.

He’s not the only one who noticed the fallacy. “Excuse me, Toko,” Makoto tries tentatively. “So…that means from around 12:40 to one, you were unconscious?”

“Y-yes? What, do you n-not believe me?” She immediately goes on the defensive, cagey and snappish. “Y-you think I’m l-lying, right? J-just because I’m l-like this, you th-think that e-everything I say is a l-lie-?! Y-you all think I s-strung Chihiro up, I kn-know it!”

“Toko…no one said that.” Asahina has her hands raised, in some attempt to calm her down. “We just want to know what happened.”

She was proving to be an impossible witness. Byakuya raises a hand to press to his temple, feeling his pulse throbbing beneath his fingertips. “Kyoko. Can you verify what Toko has said?” He asks, exasperated, and Kirigiri actually seems to startle a bit, head snapping to look at him.

“...I can’t.” She says, after a pause. “Because she did not enter the bathroom at that time, or else I would have noticed it.”

She remains fixated on him for a moment longer, before turning away. Belatedly, he suddenly realizes this was the second time he’s caught her off guard. The first time was when he pointed out the fact that access to information on Genocider Syo was limited.

He doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on that though. “So, that means that either you, or Toko, is lying about their whereabouts during this time.” He sighs. “For now, we need to identify which one of you both is deceiving us.”

Both are equally suspicious. Kirigiri has been mysterious, even more so than usual, and purposefully vague about her activities. And he didn’t trust Fukawa at all to start with, but she was also clumsy and awkward. It was hard to imagine her being able to plan everything ahead to this degree, from planting the evidence, to staging the actual murder…

“Wait. Something’s not right.” Makoto says suddenly, and his voice is clear and contemplative, his chin tucked over his knuckle. “If Toko fainted before she actually washed her hands, then how come her hands are clean? Remember, when we first met Syo, she showed us that her hands were totally free of blood.”

“I-I-!” She squawks, indignant, but she can’t seem to formulate a reply for a few moments. “M-maybe Syo washed my h-hands or s-something, I don’t know! S-she’s the one that k-kills people, so o-of course she would h-hide her tracks!”

“But, again, the sinks of the boy’s bathroom were all dry.” Makoto points out, and Fukawa sputters some more. “And…”

He pauses, and his head dips for a moment, enough for a shadow to cast over his face. “Toko. How did you know that Chihiro is dead?”

Byakuya figures it out a half-step after him, and silently kicks himself for not picking up on it earlier. And the others pick up on it as well, and the atmosphere turns dark, thick with unease and suspicion. Same as the elevator ride down, but this time, directed at Fukawa.

She’s gaping like a fish. She turns left and right, shuffling slightly. The rails of the stand stand tall and straight like the bars of a cage. “I-that’s-the portraits!” She yelps, and jabs out a pale hand in Byakuya’s direction. “Ch-Chihiro’s portrait, i-it’s crossed out! Th-that means s-she’s dead, so-”

“He’s dead.” Byakuya corrects sharply, and glares so fiercely the confused question that Fukawa was preparing simply vanishes. “But the fact that you weren’t aware of that means that Chihiro never came to speak with you about it. When he already discussed the matter with the rest of us.”

“I-that doesn’t m-mean I k-killed he-him!”

“Maybe that doesn’t implicate you,” Kirigiri concedes. “But earlier, you said ‘strung Chihiro up’. How were you aware of what the crime scene looked like?”

Fukawa squeaks, and smacks her hands to her mouth, as if she can retroactively shove the words back. “Th-that- i-isn’t that like S-Syo’s habits? S-so o-of course I would a-assume-”

“Syo said the crime scene doesn’t match what she does.” Makoto interjects. “All her victims are pinned by her scissors. Like you said, Chihiro was crucified using a cord.”

“I-”

“The time period doesn’t make sense. If we assume that Kyoko is being truthful - why did it take so long for Syo to wake up, in the time between you fainting and Chihiro being found?” Byakuya stares at her icily, and she squirms and shudders beneath his gaze. “You woke up awfully quick just now. For someone accusing us of labeling you a liar, you don’t seem inclined to tell the truth about anything, do you?”

His words drip with vitriol and acid, and Fukawa digs her fingers into her scalp and stamps her foot and screams, a long, strangled noise of frustration and anger. It’s a piercing sound, sharp enough to make Byakuya flinch, and it echoes for a moment up to the high ceiling of the chamber. And then everyone is silent as she catches her breath, hands pulling slowly away from her thoroughly disheveled hair.

“Fine,” She spits, and somehow, her voice is steadier than he’s ever heard it. “I hung up Chihiro. A-and I framed Byakuya for it.”

The confession sounds almost giddy with how breathless she is, but maybe Byakuya was imagining it. After a moment’s pause for people to register what she said, there’s no small amount of shock.

“You- you did?!” Yamada, standing directly next to Fukawa, cows as far away as the stand will let him. “Wha- but you seemed so…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but the implication of the word ‘harmless’ hangs in the air. “Yes, I did.” She snaps back savagely. “I-it was easy. H-he’s so small, a-and I knew B-Byakuya would be l-looking for s-stuff on Syo…and, t-the extension cord…”

Byakuya suddenly remembers, then. How she had stumbled as she left the library, foot smashing through some box and getting tangled in its contents. And how he hadn’t paid any mind to it, already too preoccupied with his own survival to care.

“How did you manage it without turning into Syo?” Kirigiri asks, and Fukawa’s face twists. It's only as she turns her head, and Byakuya notices the subtle glint of her bared teeth, that he realizes that she’s grinning.

“He had been i-ignoring me f-for so long…I was w-working so hard. T-to be normal and good. S-so he would l-look at me…” It’s not hard to figure out who she was referring to by ‘he’. Byakuya feels eyes on him once more. But his attention is turned to her raised forearm, exposed by the sleeve drooping around her elbow from how her hands are clutching at her scalp, and the strip of white that is almost imperceptible against her already pale skin. “I-I thought if I could - I could g-get over it, I could prove th-that I could be normal, then…”

She trails off, energy quickly depleted. “So, you had been training to not immediately faint at the sight of blood.” Kirigiri concludes, and Fukawa nods once, jerkily.

“Wait, so you did all that just because he ignored you?” Hagakure asks, mouth agape.

“Yes!” She shrieks vehemently, so sharp and sudden that Byakuya nearly jumps. “You don’t get it! None of you g-get it! I-I can stand it i-if he was mean to me, o-or if he h-hated me, but- it’s the worst when h-he acts like I’m n-not even there!”

Her voice breaks, and for a long moment the only sound in the room is her quiet sobs. To some degree - and Byakuya is furious with himself for even thinking this - he understands why she might behave this way. Clearly, she had been abused, and likely neglected, and this manifested into the extreme, self-demeaning, aggressive behavior she displayed now. Her actions had a twisted logic. She herself was pitiable.

But just because he understood, did not mean he had to accept it.

“Well, you have my full attention now.” He says coldly. “Congratulations. Why don’t you try and keep that attention by telling us what we all want to know?”

“Yeah, how about you tell us how Chihiro died?” It takes Byakuya a moment to place that the question came from Owada, who had been mostly quiet for a while now. He’s not blazing with fury anymore, but there’s an edge in his voice now that Byakuya can’t read. “I don’t give a shit about your fucking crush. I want to know how you killed Chihiro.”

Fukawa tilts her head in thought, and the action is somehow reminiscent of Syo. “B-but, I didn’t kill Chihiro?” She says, and she sounds almost innocent. “I-I just found the b-body…I-I think if I d-did kill him th-then Syo w-would have woken up r-right away.”

As if anticipating it, Kirigiri raises her hands, as if trying to stop the rush of questions and shocked exclamations from the others. It’s no use though, as Owada bellows: “Like hell we’re believing that!”

“Guys, the time limit-!” Makoto has to shout above the din. At that, Byakuya glances at the clock hanging over Monokuma’s chair, the flashing red digits initiating a countdown. How long had it been already? How much time was left? There was no way for him to tell. He’d totally forgotten about it. “Just. Toko, can you tell us how you found the body? Please?”

“W-why should I?” Byakuya feels his jaw physically creak with how hard he’s grinding his teeth. It seemed that in the time Fukawa spent unconscious, she had absorbed the worst aspects of Syo’s personality.

“We may all perish if you don’t.” Sakura points out, a low threat in her voice.

“I-I don’t care.”

Byakuya thinks he might scream. “Why?! What else do you have left to lose?” He demands, and his voice rasps slightly, throat sore from how much he’d been talking. “We know what you’ve done already. You’ve already revealed everything about me. What else do you want?!”

And she giggles, a breathless, insane sound. “I-I don’t c-care what happens t-to me,” She sings. “I hate you. I h-hate everyone here. I kn-know I-I’m gonna get t-targeted no matter w-what I do, b-because you all th-think I’m so horrible…so I should h-hit back f-first, right?” She wobbles, hands knotted in her hair again. “B-but I hate you the most. I-I wanted y-you to know how you made me feel, even j-just a little.”

Even without seeing her face, he can sense her malice, thick and unpleasant like the smell of rot. He hasn’t been the target of such blatant contempt in years, and the complete hostility that she radiates makes him feel a little unsteady.

“Fine. We will figure out the details ourselves. You’ve given us enough clues already.” Kirigiri replies coolly. “Unfortunately for you, only one person will be dying after this trial.”

He’s not sure how she can be so confident about that. The pounding in his head is getting worse, and as his eyes slip closed, he finds he’s not even sure where to start with everything; after all this, they were still not any closer to a definite conclusion. All they had done so far was run blindly around each other, getting lured to dead-ends and circles.

Through the low throb of pain in his skull, he can just barely make out the sound of quiet muttering fromMakoto’s direction. If he opened his eyes, he might have seen the other boy tapping his foot, resting his chin in his hand as he thinks. And if he could have seen, he might have noticed how Makoto’s eyes were darting, drawing invisible lines between fixed points in his mind.

“The place where Chihiro died. And Toko found the body. That’s what we need to figure out,” He says aloud, slowly. “I don’t think Chihiro died on the second floor. There’s no place with enough blood that could justify it, or enough evidence of a clean-up to suggest that it happened there. Even in the hallway where the body was found, the only blood there was against the wall from where Chihiro was crucified. There’s no splatter to match the method of death.”

“Yeah, but there’s no place on the first floor to suggest that Chihiro died there, either.” Asahina points out.

“No, there is one room. There was no blood there, but there was evidence that it was cleaned recently.” Even as he says this, Owada is beginning to gasp, ‘Wait-’, but he continues. “And, it’s somewhere someone got injured recently, so any blood that was missed can be explained away.”

He turns to the pale, silent figure of Kiyotaka Ishimaru, as still and unobtrusive as a ghost. “Taka. Can you please tell us what happened?”

___

Of course, Mondo blocks him before Taka can even respond.

“How dare you.” His voice is a low rumble, and he somehow looks angrier than Makoto has ever seen him. He can practically hear the creak of wood where Mondo was gripping the bannister, knuckles white and bulging. “What the fuck are you trying to pull, Makoto? What the fuck are you trying to say?!”

Makoto swallows, his heart feeling like it’s about to pop out of his chest. He’s seen Mondo both at his most violent moments, and at his kindest ones, his face softening with sympathy as he was listening to Chihiro, the hearty reassurance and gentle clap on the back he had offered to them both. But now Mondo looked like he might actually kill him, and would make it hurt while it happened.

But despite that, he presses on. “I know you said that a trophy fell on Taka’s head, and that’s how you found him. When I went to look at the trophy room, the floor was still wet, and it was clean - like, really clean. And I assumed it was because you went back and cleaned it up after Taka got injured, but looking back, that doesn’t make sense.” He glances briefly at Kyoko, who merely closes her eyes in silent assent. “If your friend had a concussion, wouldn’t you stay by his side?”

Mondo’s face pulls into a snarl, a vein bulging at his temple. “So what if I went back and cleaned it up? Maybe Taka wanted to rest alone. What the hell does that matter?”

“No, I think it does matter. You don’t act like it, but you’re really nice, Mondo. When you were talking with me and Chihiro, and told us about your bro-”

He cuts himself off for a moment, suddenly hesitant. He’s already revealed Byakuya’s secret. He didn’t want to have to reveal Mondo’s as well, even now. He didn’t want to betray anyone else, but-

He already hates me for what I’m doing. He thinks to himself. Whether he reveals Mondo’s secret now or not, he knows that no matter what, he was going to be hated; there was no chance at the friendly ribbing and pleasant exchanges they had in the past. But even despite that, he finds himself unwilling to form the words on his tongue.

He needn’t have bothered though. Kyoko is the one who speaks up in his stead. “There’s no point in hiding the fact that you care deeply for Taka. We all remember the display of friendship the two of you put on the other day after spending weeks at each other’s throats. And as someone who’s familiar with violence, I imagine you’re also familiar with basic first aid; so why would you abandon someone with a head injury to clean up the other room?”

Mondo glares at her furiously, but there’s sweat beading on his forehead now. “You-you meddling bitch, what the fuck are you-?!”

“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not trying to accuse you of anything.” She sighs. Makoto thinks she looks a little haggard, with dark rings of exhaustion under her eyes, and wonders when the last time she slept was. Despite that, her eyes are still sharp, and meet Mondo’s glower with a cool stare. “But, since we are missing out on Toko’s testimony, I think we should have our last witness speak for himself.”

And before she had even finished her sentence, Taka was opening his mouth.

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff #thpff chapters #byakuya togami #danganronpa fanfiction #my earlobe itches. i think i got bit by a mosquito. it's right over where my piercing closed up too.... #really hoping that toko's personal reasoning makes sense here. oohh babygirl you are so full of problems.... #might make a separate post trying to analyze toko in this context. maybe. idk yet #byakuya straight up clocks out partway through this so makoto gets to narrate #both bc he's tired as hell and also bc i got worried i was making things too repetitive with his pov #i think its pretty clear by now who the culprit is. amazing team effort by the class to start figuring it out in the last stretch of things #curious if anyone else thinks they know what the full story is before it all gets revealed next chap (eyes emote) #sorry for da wait btw i was simply turning into soup. u know how it is

[kathyy-21]

Ominis Gaunt x Hufflepuff!F!Reader | "bruises" |

Genre: Fluff/angst

Warnings: mention of verbal bullying/a physical fight.

Summary: Reader getting into a 'Muggle fight' with a Gryffindor students because he was about to put Ominis into an uncomfortable situation.

Relationship can be read as platonic? Maybe. Pre-relationship kind of situation.

Start of story

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

You had known Ominis for a little while by now. You being a Hufflepuff and him being a Slytherin, your paths still crossed rather often, and you didn't really deteste each other despite your differences.

Surprisingly, or maybe not that surprisingly, you grew rather fond of him over the weeks you'd know him, and he could say the same about you if he pleased to do so.

You were walking to your next class with Poppy, chatting happily as you noticed the blonde boy, who should now be headed to a different class. As you wanted to call out for him, you were interrupted by another student, doing just the same, in a much different tone you would have chosen.

,,Hey, Gaunt!", the taller boy yelled through the hallway, causing Ominis to perk up in your direction, his expression only changing into a slight frown.

You on the other hand, were almost pulling a grimace. Even though Ominis had not exactly opened up to you about them, you knew he didn't want to be assosiated with the Gaunts or his doings anymore. So bad, that it must have pained him to be called by his last name in such a voice, that was clearly trying to cause harm to the blind student.

Not thinking twice about it, your body took it upon itself to walk over and confront the bully, appearing to be a Gryffindor. Being at least a tad smaller than him, you had to look up at him, which didn't stop you from trying to put him in his place.

"Who do you think you are?",

You gritted out, voice already sounding pressed, as your opponent lifted his hands up in defense. His swollen voice only made your anger against him grow further.

"What do you mean, I just wanted to call him over by his name... is there anything wrong with it?"

Acting innocently, he pulled up his eyebrows into a concerned expression, only causing you to loose your composion further.

Poppy tried her best to reason with you, but even you insisted on having this issue off the table right now.

As you pulled him down at his tie, there was still hope for it to end peacefully. Ominis had made his way through to you by now, standing at the side of the circle that had formed itself around the two of you, next to poppy.

"Ominis, I'm sorry, uh.." she tried to collect her words to best describe what she was apologizing for, without offending him as well. Yet, the boy had already formed his own picture in his mind.

"But what is she doing..?",

His expression now seemed just as concerned, as he tried making sense of the noises and conversation, over the constant babbling of the other excited students around.

Poppy could only tell him so much:

"I'm not sure if they can find a peaceful solution to this"

His body stiffens, hoping, maybe even praying to Merlin, that this would not end in a duel, since he already had an Idea of what kind of Student you were currently offending, and it did never seem to Ominis that he was much of a fair duelist, ending up seriously injuring people in defends against the dark arts.

A stirrup of commotion in the middle of the situation had drawn both of their attention back to the scenario playing before them. A loud thud and an irritated groal drom the Gryffindor indicating, the situation to Ominis mind: he had already casted a spell at you, and you must be hurt on the ground already.

Trying to interfere in the fight already, Ominis wanted to step forward, but was held back by a hand on his shoulder, that was probably covered in a nervous sweat: Poppy.

"Stop, Ominis... it's not safe. We can't do anything about it right now!",

His expression changed to a softer, but definetely not less concerned one as he turned into her general direction. The girl seemed just as pained by the fact they were helpless right now as he was. Even He knew it wasn't like Poppy to just stand by and watch.

To his surprise, or much more confusion, the commotion wasn't over yet, but he couldn't really make sense of the noise either. As it came to a stop, he could hear both of your heavy breathing, and you both whispering. Ominis was probably the only one being able to hear it clearly, as the other students were already parting ways again.

"I'm... im sorry, okay?",

"Don't apoligize to ME.

This week, better tomorrow, I will ask him and you will have apologized to HIM.",

"Okay, okay, just let me leave, will you?"

"I better not hear from him that your apology wasn't good enough either",

Before the two of you could part, you were already held by professor Sharpe, who seemingly was called by another student to clear the scene and take responsibility of Necessary consequences.

Now that he knew there was a professor nearby, Ominis couldn't contain himself and immediately walked over to you, struggling to find what he wanted to say first. Addressing at sharpe, his voice sounded unusually shaken: "what does she look like, is she hurt..?"

The response only seemed to confuse Ominis more.

,,She looks like a darn troublemaker.",

Were you not the one being beaten up?

By an unfair duelist??

Sharpe promised appropriate consequences for you actions, as he took you to the hospital wing, where you were treated accordingly to your wounds and bruises, the door opening only a little while later, revealing the boy you had taken this all for.

,,Ominis",

You smiled lightly at his appearance, also knowing he was probably upset about your behavior. He seemed a little more pale than usual, and his body language seemed much more uncertain than you knew of him.

"You can sit down here if you'd like... uhm I want to apologize to you",

Ominis nodded understandingly, but immediately shook his head at your apology.

"Stop it.. you don't need to apologize... you got into this fight because of me, and even ended up hurt",

The hint of pain in his voice was not entirely new to you, yet you still had to get used to this vulnerability.

You sat up straight and furrowed your eyebrows once more, trying to understand what he was getting at.

"I'm okay... and it's not like you told me to fight him. It's not more than a few bruises, really.",

It stayed quiet in the room for a little while, until he felt like he could dare to raise his voice again.

"But.. how did you do that? I heard that it wasn't even a duel, but.. a 'muggle fight'",

You laughed at the expression and shook your head lightly to keep your composure. Careful not to spook him, you placed your hand on top of his and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Even though he first wanted to pull away, the warmth of your touch kept him there, just to experience your comfort. It felt so calming, yet scary, since it had been quite a while since he had allowed someone to keep physical contact upright with him for longer.

Turning his gaze to your general direction, he spoke a lot quieter now.

"But is he not.. much taller than you? I thought he had totally beaten you..I was.."

Ominis didn't manage to get the words out, but it was not hard for you to understand what he was trying to say.

"Worried.. I know. And that's why I'm sorry.",

Now taking his hand in both of yours, you continued: "I didn't mean to make such a fuss, but... he was clearly trying to make you feel uneasy.",

After those words, another wave of silence came upon the both of you, the blind boys face now seemed like he was thinking intensely, almost losing his attention on his surroundings at the thought. Then, as he had finally built the courage to say it, your heart skipped a beat at his request.

,,can I.. touch your face? I wish to convince myself of your wellbeing.",

A little tint of pink was on his face, knowing the question might be awkward to you, yet you couldn't contain a smile as you gave him your permission.

,,go ahead",

Leaning a littke into his direction, you took the wrist of his hand he had lifted, to guide him to your cheek. Your skin felt warm and fizzy at the contact, his hands being rather cold. A little giddiness ran through your body as he guide his hand and fingers across your features.

"Thank you...", Ominis whispered, also feeling childishly energetic at the scenario. His touch was careful and soft, yet you couldn't help but flinch away as he came across a particularely nasty bruise around your eye. Ominis expression became a mixture of worry and anger, as he let out a frustrated sigh, dropping his hand again, as he had felt enough.

,,how could you say you're okay, when you feel like this...? This moron really beat a girl like you.. in front of the whole year 6...", the way his lips curled downwards made you hurt inside. Yes, you knew it wasn't appropriate of either of you, yet you felt pretty offended at the thought that this guy, actually did try beating you up without shame. Yet, you give him an amused response.

"Well, I still won though. Apparently he only knows how to duel, but I will stay experienced in physical combat."

You look at him expecting of a little laugh, or anything that would show he's cheered up, yet there was nothing but sadness on his features. You could have sworn, tears were brimming at the corner of his eyes for a second.

The guilt now totally overcame you.

"Oh Ominis... I'd like to give you a hug, is that okay? I'm really sorry",

You knew he might not accept your offer, yet you just couldn't stand seeing him this way. It surprised you even more, when he quickly hugged you instead, clumsily laying his arms around yours, so you could only place your hands to his sides as he sniffled into your shoulders. It hurt a little, since he was putting pressure on another bruise, but you couldn't deny him this either.

Even though you were taken aback, you did not decide to bother him with further talk. You had never seen him like this before, and you were sure, he didn't know how to handle this feeling right now either.

#hufflepuff #harry potter #fanfiction #fanfic #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x you #ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #oneshot #bullying #fanfic fluff #hogwarts legacy angst #hogwarts legacy fluff

[bbygirl-aemond]

What would've been a better way for everyone to handle the whole vagar, eye, kids fighting, my mom's dragon scene

yes, i've thought a lot about this! i really think that if the adults explained to the kids the potential dangers of the different things they did, rather than blaming them for their actions or punishing them for it, they could have avoided all of this. this can happen while also making sure the kids learn to take responsibility for their actions and to foster empathy rather than resentment.

for example, alicent could explain to aemond that it was really mean to throw laena's death in her daughter's faces, to throw harwin's death in jace's face (she can do this without saying she thinks harwin is jace's bio dad), and to throw being dragonless in rhaena's face (especially when he knows how much that hurts). daemon could explain to rhaena and baela that dragons are sentient beings with free will, and that they aren't objects to be inherited. all parents could explain to all children that it's dangerous to sneak out at night, and that you should always get an adult instead of running off to confront potentially dangerous strangers. someone should also have explained to baela that it's not okay to turn a verbal exchange into a physical fight, and to the children of team black that a 4v1 fight just isn't fair or honorable. all of the kids should be made to apologize to each other for all of these things.

now this leaves us with the three truly tricky things that still need to be addressed: (1) aemond threatening to kill jace, (2) aemond calling jace and luke bastards, and (3) luke cutting out aemond's eye. i still think all of these things could have been handled without heavily punishing the kids AND without letting them feel completely blameless just because their intent was good, ignoring that actions also have impacts. i'll go through them one by one:

(1) the adults need to dig deeper into why aemond brought out the murder threat, which will reveal the bullying/resentment that he's built up. then they can address this and have the strong boys AND AEGON apologize for it. and then they can tell aemond that hurt feelings are NOT an excuse to threaten murder and that an exception will be made this time because he's family and also a child who has just been terribly injured, but that this kind of behavior will have harsh consequences if he knowingly repeats it in the future. i also do think it would be good if there was some (still relatively benign) consequence for this, like aemond being forced to spend more time around jace so the two could develop more empathy for each other.

(2) the key here is NOT to focus on the truthfulness of the rumors. instead, it's to focus on the fact that publicly using the word bastard puts children in danger who are very much innocent regardless of whether you think the rumors are true. to focus on the impact, and to not ask the greens to lie but to ask them to avoid saying it in public unprompted the way aemond did.

you might think it would be dangerous to avoid outright denying the accusations, but i'd argue less so than in canon: aegon saying "everyone knows" and viserys being completely unable to refute him is why the rumors got so out of hand in the first place. if we don't make it about the truth, we avoid that scene that proves to the court it IS true and even the king can't deny it, which is far more harmful.

(3) the most important thing here is to acknowledge that intent does NOT negate impact. i think this is also an amazing opportunity to teach luke a very important lesson about leadership: you should be prepared to accept the responsibility for every action you take, no matter how justified. a great way to do this would be to make luke aemond's companion throughout his recovery. this way, luke would be forced to bear daily witness to the long, painful healing process, and then the difficulty of learning a new normal.

this wouldn't make luke feel like he was being punished for defending himself, but rather that he was being asked to remain aware of the way it irrevocably changed and damaged aemond's entire life's path. this would also, i think, help to foster more empathy between the two; i can very much see luke caving first and growing to empathize with aemond since he's a more sensitive boy, and if he's more sympathetic then aemond's resentment will never build up in the same way.

tldr: no one was fully right in this situation, and no one was fully wrong, either. even if you think they were, they're very young children, and these actions shouldn't damn them for the rest of their lives (which is part of why aemond's injury being permanent is so unfortunate). apologies should be made everywhere, and any consequences should be more positively framed (spending time together to learn empathy). taking action like this would have prevented aemond from becoming so resentful, and probably would have saved luke's life. it would also have helped alicent and her children to feel like aemond's injury was taken seriously, making them feel more safe and therefore making them less susceptible to otto's manipulations.

but noooo, we get the adults on both sides doubling down that their kids are 100% the victims and 0% to blame for anything. and that's how we get the dinner scene where rhae's kids are completely unremorseful and actively antagonistic, with alicent's kids resentful and antagonistic in return: with each side intent that they've never done anything wrong, ever, all while hating the other side for thinking the very same.

#ask #asks #answered #hotd #house of the dragon #show #books #fire and blood #driftmark #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #lucerys velaryon #lucerys strong #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys strong #luke velaryon #luke strong #jace velaryon #jace strong #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #vhagar #rhaena #baela #aegon #aegon ii #jace #hotd meta #meta

[drinkitfrommymouthsuou]

🌹 ℕ𝕆𝕎 𝕆ℙ𝔼ℕ 𝔽𝕆ℝ 𝔹𝕌𝕊𝕀ℕ𝔼𝕊𝕊 🌹: 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘸; 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘌𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

(♫♪) “Only those with excellent social standing and those from filthy rich families are lucky enough to spend their time here at the elite private school, Ouran Academy. The Ouran host Club is where the school’s handsomest boys with too much time on their hands, entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands. Just think of it as Ouran academy’s elegant playground for the super-rich and beautiful.”

"—WELCOME!"

Today was no different than any other day at the host club.  The music room was full of vivacious guests, and equally handsome men who were more than eager to entertain. 

The late afternoon sun shined brightly through the large windows that lined one wall of the abandoned music room. 

Well…this place was not so abandoned anymore.

Tamaki brought new life to the forgotten music room when he co-founded the infamous Ouran Host Club.  Here is where the host club met every day after school and conducted their club activities with delight. 

One pair of identical hosts amused their guests with their brotherly love act.  The twins, Hikaru and Kaoru fell into each other’s arms and melted for one another—which in turn melted their guests into a fit of giggles. 

“It’s not fair, Hikaru—,” Kaoru murmured into Hikaru’s shoulder.  Hikaru wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, seemingly to protect him from the evils of the world.  “—It’s okay, Kaoru—our guests will return tomorrow; try not to let your heart break, too much—after all—you still have me.”  Hikaru promised.  The girls cried out; it wasn’t fair that their time with these hosts was coming to an end.  As Hikaru and Kaoru were bidding their guests good-bye for the day, they noticed the host club doors opening.

A new guest!

“Well—well…well…” Hikaru chirped and made his way over to the beautiful girl.  To say she was beautiful was an understatement to be sure. In no time, his twin brother was by his side.  The brothers both produced a rose—one blue and one orange—and offered them to the beautiful guest. “It isn’t often we meet someone with your—qualifications.” Hikaru bluntly stated and eyed the girl before him.  He wasn’t usually so forward, but something told him he could be a little playful with this guest.  Kaoru agreed as he also eyed the girl before them. “Why don’t you come in and join us—maybe we can play a game?” Kaoru whispered. 

However, their fun was cut short as Tamaki walked up behind the twins.  They felt his presence as if a looming parental figure snuck up on them doing something they shouldn’t.  “Hikaru! Kaoru! How many times do I have to tell you boys—,” The princely-type’s voice was smooth like honey but spoke so sternly toward his fellow hosts.  “You need to be more courteous to our first-time guests.” Tamaki raked his fingers through his blond bangs, tussling the layered strands.

The twins knew what that meant; Tamaki was staking his claim as the host king.  With over a 70% request rate, Tamaki was the undisputed king of the host club.  While he would never poach a guest from another host, he was not about to let the twins ruin a potential client by scaring her away with their rude behavior and crude humor. 

Whatever the case may be, the twins took the hint and slinked away.  With the devilish twins out of the way, Tamaki turned his attention onto the new guest. 

“Please, don’t mind them—they don’t mean any harm.” Tamaki’s voice lilted with the hint of laughter.

His dewy eyes locked on the girl before him.  He tucked his hand close to his waist and stepped back to allow the door to open wide.  He presented his kingdom to this new guest by offering her a shallow bow.  “Won’t you come in? I welcome you to our world of beauty, my princess.”

#howlofthewolf #「♔ Welcome! 」 #「♔ guest; Yuki 」 #「♔ rp; SNSE 」 #「♔ outofroses; leggoooo! sorry for the long starter LOL. 」 #「♔ тαмαкι sυσυ | 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 」

[stargazeraldroth]

okay Dream and Ink are both just suffering in Balanceswap and I am Big Sad about it :( poor boys… at least they can hug each other??? but hhh Error smack some sense into Nightmare and then come get your husband and his adopted son!!!

also, Ink being Dream’s, like, pseudo parent is. very cute to me, I love that??? please tell us more about the two of them and their relationship… I need them to have one good thing :( what does Dream think of what Ink went through and his thought process following it? what’s his impression of Error and the creators? how does Ink feel about what Dream went through in his village? does he want Nightmare to be redeemed so Dream can have his brother back, or is he worried he’d just hurt him again? are they protective of each other?

Trust me, Error's TRIED to talk some sense into Nightmare, but he just... won't listen. Nightmare's too self-centered and entitled to accept criticism about how he acts or does things, even if they're true- especially if they're true. Also, Error can still be affected by the twins' auras, meaning that if Nightmare really wanted to, he could... persuade Error to see things from his perspective.

When Ink tells Dream about everything, he makes it clear that he doesn't want him to hate Error. But Ink's own views on the Creators heavily influence Dream's, though Dream isn't as expressive of them as Ink is. He sees some of the good points Ink makes in his thought process, but he doesn't know if Ink's perspective is the right one. And by the right one, he means it more like the right thing to do. He understands that both positivity and negativity need to exist, but he doesn't actually understand the idea of the Balance.

Ink is understandably and rightfully pissed about what Dream went through in the village. He thought Dream acted like a child when he came out of the statue, but to find out he was actually only 6 years old when it all happened... makes him feel some pity for Nightmare, too, but Nightmare's had centuries to grow and improve himself. Ink knows how much Dream misses Nightmare, but also knows that it's too dangerous for him. Nightmare wouldn't deliberately harm Dream, as I said before, but the situation wouldn't be fair to Dream. If his experience when he ran away was anything to go by, he'd be bedridden and miserable for the rest of his life.

But yes, they're very protective of each other, though Ink's a bit more protective than Dream is. In a way, Dream looks up to Ink as the parental figure he's never really had. Sure, Nim was... somewhat there, but she didn't really... take care of them. She couldn't, she had no body, but she wasn't really there emotionally, either... ironic, considering she's the original Guardian of the Tree of Feelings. Likewise, Ink treats Dream as though he is his own child, though he isn't exactly sure how to raise a kid or be a parent. Ink also feels a bit bad because he kinda dragged Dream into the whole mess, but while he'd like to just leave him with Error to keep him safe, he's paranoid. Error's working with the Omega Timeline, which is working with Nightmare. Ink knows that the twins' auras work on Error, but they don't work on him. He can't... he can't risk it.

But, in other news, Ink tries to help Dream learn how to control his powers. It's a bit of a mess, since Dream's magic is very different from Ink's. Not to mention that they have to consider avoiding Nightmare's detection... any sudden spikes in negative energy could catch his attention. But Ink tries his best to take care of Dream. He makes sure the kid is fed, has warm clothes, shelter, etc. Ink's trying his best :(

#anonymous asks #balanceswap au #error sans #ink sans #dream sans #nightmare sans #i think at this point we just need to get error and ink drunk and then put them in a room together #and dammit nightmare go to therapy already #you're scaring your brother >:(

[jaycewrites-192000]

In Every Timeline [Preview]

Summery: Childhood friends, Manjiro and Y/n, reunite after a couple of years of being apart. Things have changed overtime, including themselves. However, Y/n has noticed a change in Manjiro that leaves her with a deep feeling of unease. Will they still stay together, even when the future ahead doesn’t look so bright?

Paring: Manjiro “Mikey” Sano x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): Manga Spoilers, Violence, Major Character Death, Heavy Angst

(But don’t worry it will all be ok in the end…maybe)

A young girl at the age of ten, makes her way home from school. She didn’t live too far away from her school, so she didn’t mind the walk to and back. In fact, she found herself enjoying the walks. It gave her some alone time, some time to herself, some time to think.

It was nice.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t last long. Today, some middle schoolers decided to give her a hard time. She was stopped by two older boys, each of them trying to come off as intimidating.

“You lost little girl?”

“Where’s your little friends? Or, maybe…Don’t tell me you’re one of those friendless geeks!”

“I bet! Just look at her!”

She inwardly sighs at their attempts at scaring her and hurting her feelings. Though, what they said wasn’t entirely wrong. She really didn’t have any friends. It was hard to make friends at her school. Or rather, it was hard for her to make friends. She just gave up after a while.

She wasn’t sad about it or anything. She was doing just fine.

“Can you please get out of my way?” She finally speaks.

“Huh? Trying to order us around pipsqueak!?”

“Annoying little brat! We outta reach you a lesson!”

The two took a step closer to her. This time the sigh left her. She wasn’t a great fighter. She was only ten after all. But she did deal with her fair share of bullies, and she was able to take care of them on her own.

This was no different. Just two dumb bullies in her way.

The first one raised his fist and aimed it towards her face. She quickly dodged before deliver a punch of her own to his stomach. She wasn’t sure if he was actually hurt from it, or if it was just shock that made him stumble back. But she didn’t waste time as she did the same to the other, this time, kicking him in the gut as hard as she could.

“Damn you!”

The girl quickly tried running past them, but was grabbed by the arm and yanked back.

“Hold her still.”

One of the boys cracked his knuckles as he spoke. “We were just gonna let you go with a light slap on the wrist. But now you’re gonna get it! How would you like a few broken bones!?”

Just as he said this, fast approaching footsteps could be heard. And before she knew it, the one threatening to harm her was being kicked in the head. He was sent to the ground roughly, unconscious.

Standing above him, was a boy around her age. With a bored expression, he turned to the one holding her. “How lame. Picking on a little girl.” He muttered before rushing towards him. He jumped up into the air, and delivered the same devastating kick he dealt the first one.

He landed with ease, and turned to face the girl. “You alright?”

Yay new series! There is going to be lots of spoilers for the manga in this series though, so there is your warning. But, I will put warnings on every chapter that does involve spoilers and some more sensitive/darker subjects.

Hope you guys enjoy!

#tokyo revengers #mikey x reader #manjiro x reader #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano x reader #tokyo revengers mikey #childhood friends to lovers #angst #hurt/comfort #manga spoilers #tokyo revengers spoilers #major character death #spoilers for end of tokyo revengers manga

[b3-with-you]

as beautiful as ever pt.2

Pairing: Reiner Braun x fem!reader

Summary: Upon learning of Hange’s plan to kill Eren, y/n objects to its treachery as she reminisces the good and bad of her past, as well as all the pain that came with it.

Warnings: season 4 spoilers; swearing; descriptions of dead bodies, trauma, angst; mentions of suicide/self harm, slight gore; self blame; part 2/?

Word Count: 2.9k+

Notes: part two is finally up !! ty so much for all the support on the first part i hope yall enjoy this one just as much :D ngl almost cried writing this like wtf this shit just hit different dawg 

masterlist.

pt.1

Year 849 ; Cadet Corps Training Camp

“You ever wonder what’s out there?” y/n asked, looking up at the stars. “Outside the walls?”

Reiner tensed up at the question. Quite the opposite actually, I always wondered what was in the walls. Glancing at y/n, he furrowed his eyebrows as he examined her reclined figure. The two had ditched dinner together and instead snuck out some food to bring with them on the rooftop. A frequent activity for the duo.

The rooftop had always been y/n’s safe space. It was a way for her to get away from the world, from all her problems and misery and...life. It didn’t take long for her to realize that it was Reiner���s too.

The first time it happened was the three year anniversary of the fall of Wall Maria. It had been a hard day of training, especially since Commander Keith was feeling crankier than usual, the cadets’ somber mood not helping his case. Everything wrong happened at all the wrong times and y/n had just had enough. 

She snuck out that night, and to her surprise, she was met with a blonde haired boy looking to forget the world.

“You stole my spot,” y/n had announced, startling the boy. She took a seat next to him, her legs dangling at the edge. “Didn’t know anyone else came up here.”

That was the beginning. The beginning of late night talks, and shooting each other smiles from across the room, and glancing at each other when the other wasn’t looking. That was the beginning of Reiner and y/n. Friends. Just friends.

“Sometimes,” he muttered.

“Wanna know what I think?” y/n asked, her focus still on the night sky. “I think there are still people out there.”

Reiner pulled his gaze away from her as the familiar feeling of guilt started to bubble in his stomach. He was a coward, and a liar. He didn’t deserve y/n’s friendship, not when he knew exactly what was going to happen to her. Not when he was the one who caused her to lose her home, her family. It wasn’t fair. Not to him and definitely not to her.

“Somehow somewhere in a distant land far away, there’s another wall. And another and another and it goes on and on, and all of humanity is just hiding behind those walls. Too ignorant- or too scared- to realize that they’re not alone.”

She glanced up at Reiner, immediately being met with his hazel eyes. Even in the dark, they still shined so brightly. She sat up, subtly moving closer to the boy sat next to her.

“I mean, c’mon, you’re telling me that this whole planet is just absolutely covered in titans and then there’s us in our little walled off circle just chilling? No way,” y/n exclaimed, “there has to be someone out there. Anyone. You know?”

“Yeah,” Reiner chuckled, a soft smile appearing on his face, “I know.”

y/n pulled her legs to her chest, letting out a sigh as she observed the scenery before them. As dreary as it seemed, it was home. The dirty raggedness of the cliffs making shadows in the moonlight; the old wooden structures, musty yet warm; the rocky mountains in the distance, pulling y/n to want more, to need more. It was beautiful.

She was beautiful. As beautiful as ever. There was a slight pout on her face as her head rested on her knees, a sign of the gears turning in her brain. He liked that about her- the way she thought about things.

Reiner would sometimes imagine telling her his secret; imagine the look on her face, the words she would say. He always thought she would understand. That underneath all the anger and pain, she would still somehow understand. Because that’s who she was. She was compassionate and kind and everything a devil wasn’t. She wasn’t the monster- the disgrace- that Reiner had been taught about, she was y/n.

“I think everybody’s hiding behind a wall,” y/n continued, her voice soft. “They just can’t find a way out.”

And maybe they don’t want to.

Present Day ; a forest within the Walls

“If we do this, we’ll be leading our friends- our people- to their deaths,” y/n argued, “we’d be traitors.” The girl glared at Reiner as the last word slipped from her mouth, her venomous tone very obviously directed at the blonde. “Makes us no better than them,” she mumbled, prying her eyes away.

“I’m not gonna let Eren commit genocide. We have a responsibility to do something, and if we ignore that responsibility,” Hange said, “that’s what makes us no better than them.”

y/n clenched her jaw, her chest heaving up and down as she tried to straighten her thoughts. This was Eren they were talking about. The boy who used to share rations with her, who helped her with her nightmares, who stood by her through everything. Eren was their friend. And now they were planning on killing him.

Shaking her head, she looked at her friends for help, desperate to have someone on her side, but everyone had averted their gaze to avoid her pleading eyes. She wasn’t surprised, but for some reason her heart still ached. She knew she was wrong, hell she had no idea why she was defending Eren. He was the one who betrayed them, and even if he was trying to protect them, what he was doing was wrong. But she was just so tired.

Nine years. Nine years of her life being anything but normal. And it was all because of them- Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie. They flipped her world upside down when they destroyed those walls. She was sick of fighting and sacrificing and that constant horrible feeling in her gut that something bad was going to happen. She could only deal with so much loss.

She still remembers the way the light disappeared from Sasha’s eyes that night, the way her body fell limp on the floor, the never ending bleeding that just went on and on and on; how throughout the whole ride home, she was just cuddled up next to Mikasa with tears pouring down her face as they grieved for their friend. And every time she’s closed her eyes since then, all she could see was Sasha lying there bleeding out.

Dying. Dead.

She was haunted by the screams of her family as they were smothered by boulders, the wrenching sound of a person being eaten and torn alive, the deformed bodies of her comrades dismembered by hungry titans. She still remembers Erwin Smith’s sullen face as his guts spilled out of a gaping hole in his abdomen.

And she still remembers the boy on the rooftop, his hazel eyes sparkling in the moonlight. She had put so much trust in him, told him things that she never thought she would say out loud. And in a single moment, the man she thought she knew was just gone. Replaced by a traitor.

“This is ridiculous,” y/n muttered, taking a seat on a log.

“Oi, brat, you’re acting like a child,” Levi piped up from his position on the cart.

y/n scoffed, feeling her temper finally get the best of her. “Am I not one?” she exclaimed, “I’m 19, for God’s sake, but I guess we just live in a world where we send twelve year olds to fight a war for us. Kill count of five by the age of 15? Fuck that, Levi.”

Standing up, y/n stormed off towards the thick forest, her face overheating with anger.

“y/n-” Levi started, realizing how much he screwed up.

“Don’t,” Reiner interrupted.

Levi scowled under his bandages as he turned his focus to the blonde. Reiner’s face was stoic and his eyes were fixated on the fire in front of him. His tone had been demanding, as if he was threatening the older man, but his body language seemed cool and collected. It made Levi curious.

Unbelievable, he thought, four years and he still hasn’t lost feelings.

It’s not like it was a secret. As newly recruited Scouts, it seemed as if everyone in the regiment knew about Reiner and y/n’s little crush on each other. Well, everyone except the two.

Levi had hated the idea at first. With everything he’s been through, he was taught that love could only mean weakness, and that wasn’t something the Scouts could afford. But then he realized how hard the two fought for each other; how instead of weakness, it gave them strength. Even after Reiner had revealed his true intentions, that pain and heartbreak only drove y/n more. She became a weapon.

“Tsk,” Levi turned his gaze away from the man and closed his eyes. Young love.

Sighing, Reiner stood up and headed towards the direction y/n had gone. He knew he shouldn’t and that he was probably the last person she wanted to see right now, but it seemed as if his body had a mind of his own. It was like an instinct, as if he was being pulled by an invisible string forcing him to follow her, to make sure she was okay.

As y/n found herself in a clearing, she brought her hands to her face, wiping away the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. Fuck Levi and fuck Eren and fuck this whole fucking world.

“You okay?” The voice broke y/n out of her thoughts as she immediately recognized its owner. Slightly turning her head, she glared at the boy through her peripheral vision, the once subsiding anger slowly rising up again.

“Don’t act like you care, Reiner,” y/n spat, hating the way his name felt on her tongue.

“I do care.”

“Really?” y/n turned around, steam fuming from her ears. “‘Cause if you cared you wouldn’t have killed Marco or manipulated Ymir or betrayed your friends! If you cared, you wouldn’t have- you wouldn’t have-” y/n stopped, unable to form the right words. Left me? Led me on?

Made me fall in love with you?

With an exasperated sigh, y/n shook her head, turning away to hide her watering eyes from the man.

“Just leave me alone,” she begged, her voice straining. “Please.”

Closing her eyes, she finally let the tears fall as she held back the sob that threatened to erupt from her lips. She couldn’t handle it anymore. She couldn’t handle him anymore- the way he still looked at her like she was his whole world, the exhaustion in his eyes that just made her want to hug him and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. She couldn’t handle the ache in her heart every time she saw his face, or heard his voice, or someone mentioned his name.

She hated how everything reminded her of what once was. She hated how even after all these years, she still remembers that first night they spent together on the rooftop. She still remembers telling him her dreams, sharing her nightmares, laughing until the sun came up. Fuck. Fuck you, Reiner Braun.

And as the wounds on y/n’s heart reopened, so did Reiner’s, because if there was anyone in the whole world who hated Reiner Braun more than y/n was Reiner himself.

It made tears prick his eyes and bile regurgerate up his throat. It made his lungs constrict and it made him, with his whole being, want to carve out his insides and chop them up into little pieces. Because as much as y/n made him want to live, she made him want to die even more.

She was the girl who made his stomach do flips and his heart skip beats. She engulfed him in her presence, showering everything she touched with a grace like no other. She gave him a reason to keep going because despite all the darkness in the world, she had managed to show him the light. She made him believe in good again.

And yet every time he looked at her- every time he heard the hatred in her voice- all he could see were the things he did wrong. The faces of everyone he’s killed, everyone he’s hurt. She was a walking reminder of the evil lurking inside him, and that maybe- deep down- he really was a monster.

His mistakes- no, he wouldn’t call them that; they weren’t mistakes, they were choices. Reiner chose to do what he did, and there was nobody else to blame, not his superiors or the Marleyans, but him. He had so many chances to stop, to be good, but he didn’t.

He kept on going when Marcel died and when he saw the utter destruction he caused at Shiganshina. He kept on going after killing Marco and he kept on going even after he realized that these so called island devils weren’t really devils after all.

He should’ve told y/n the truth that night on the rooftop, about what it was like outside those walls. He should’ve told her what she got wrong and what she got right, and she did get parts right. 

Because all his life, Reiner Braun had been hiding behind a wall. And for the longest time, he didn’t want to find a way out. He didn’t have a reason to.

Until he fell in love with an island devil. An island devil who, for the first time in his pathetic life, made Reiner feel like Reiner. He wasn’t a Marleyan or an Eldian or a warrior to her, he was just him. 

And God, did he love being him.

Blinking away his tears, Reiner’s face reverted back to its usual phlegmatic appearance.

“y/n-”

“Can we not have this conversation right now?” y/n exclaimed, her voice slightly stronger.

Reiner softly scoffed, hoping that y/n could feel his desperate gaze burning holes in her back. “Then when?”

“Never,” y/n breathed out, finally turning to face the boy, “I don’t want to talk, Reiner. Especially not to you.”

The blonde clenched his jaw as y/n threw another blow to his already fractured heart. “You don’t mean that,” he whispered, the words barely slipping from his lips.

“And who are you to say what I mean and what I don’t?” y/n’s prior sadness had slowly been turning to annoyance. Anger, hatred, hell, she didn’t even know anymore. It was like a remote control going off in her head, surfing through the channels to find the perfect TV show. Except there was just too many shows and too many channels, so instead all she got was the sickening sound of static.

With his mouth slightly agape, Reiner turned his attention to the ground, y/n’s eyes still searing at his body. “I’m sorry.”

As the words slipped out of his mouth, a laugh escaped y/n’s throat. Out of all the things that had happened those past few days, that had to be the most ridiculous. He has to be joking.

Scoffing, y/n examined Reiner’s pitiful stance. It was unbelievable. Truly. The way he still looked like the victim. It made y/n want to punch him even more. Slowly, Reiner raised his head, immediately meeting y/n’s eyes.

“Please, y/n, let me-”

“Stop.” Any trace of laughter had disappeared from y/n’s face. “Stop, just stop. You broke me, Reiner. That day on the wall? It has got to be the worst day of my life.”

The two stared each other down, searching for any sign of...something in the other’s eyes. They didn’t know what they were looking for. Care? Hatred? Love?  They just wanted the truth.

“I trusted you. I really did,” y/n said, blinking back tears. Shaking her head, she finally looked away from his burning gaze, pushing past him to head back to the camp. “This is stupid, I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.”

“I loved you.”

y/n immediately stopped in her tracks as she felt the dam of emotions slowly start breaking down. More salt to the wound.

“Don’t say that.”

“y/n,” Reiner said turning around, “I love you.”

“Stop. Reiner, stop,” y/n said, gulping down a sob. “You can’t just say that,” she said as she turned around, “you don’t get to betray me and leave me with my heart shattered in a million pieces just to come back four years later telling me you love me. You don’t get to do that.”

y/n didn’t even try to stop the tears anymore as her vision started to get blurry from the waterfall erupting from her eyes.

“Four years and not a day goes by that I don’t regret what I did. That I don’t think about this stupid island and these stupid people who I once thought of as home,” Reiner said, his voice surprisingly stable, “not a day goes by that I don’t think about you.”

y/n bit her lip, unsuccessfully trying to keep more tears from spilling. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She couldn’t do anything anymore.

“I hate you,” she sobbed, “I hate you so much.”

As if on instinct, Reiner wrapped his arms around y/n’s shaking body, a few tears escaping his eyes. y/n’s first impulse was to get away. She shouldn’t do this, she shouldn’t want this.

“Let me go,” she muttered over and over again as she struggled under his arms; punching his chest, kicking his legs, doing anything in her power to simply get away. “I hate you, I hate you!”

And yet, he still held on. Tighter and tighter until eventually, she just melted. She fell into his embrace and just stayed there, sobbing right into his arms.

“I know, I know,” Reiner whispered into her hair.

Finally.

Home.

#reiner braun x reader #reiner braun imagine #reiner braun fanfiction #reiner braun #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan fanfiction #aot #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk #reiner braun angst #aot angst #attack on titan angst

[faithfromanewperspective]

The sticky lens of gender, part 2: Michelle/Matthew Fairchild, scandal, mortal danger, self-harm, healing love, and Bejeweled

Can she still make the whole place shimmer? Does she need to, and could a woman even be expected to at all, in Edwardian London?

@thevagabondexpress has a habit of creating (or rather reimagining) the most heartbreaking and endearing and three-dimensional characters (thus pausing my fic writing so I can do this instead in the same document while I’m on the bus outside places I can connect to wi-fi, my phone having died just at the very end of Easy For You To Say, so now I’m listening to Cold As You from the CD I burned onto my laptop last decade. Xe should become a famous fantasy author. And my fic will be better after analysing the characters from this perspective—that is, a parallel universe in which everything is shifted just enough to feel trippy. Maybe the series drugged me, or maybe I went to Tasmania. See, I’m going off on tangents like Matthew Fairchild would, I’m not sure about Michelle).

Misha’s probably the one character that the story had to change the most. And the main thing I’ll attribute it to, other than the fact that the events of Cast Long Shadows couldn’t happen to a genderbent Charlotte and Henry, is the extreme double standard when it comes to sexual expression and scandal. Different trauma and a different event she just can’t let go of. Overall, it means, similarly to Judith, that I think we see a little clearer how fragile she is, and just how much she’s suffering alone. So buckle up for a long post (and there's a playlist coming).

I’m trying to trace the cause-and-effect between story and perception, where the impact of society on these characters has created the rift between the Revolutionary Company (?) and the Merry Thieves. Maybe it’s in their group name but the general vibe I get is that they seem a lot more unhappy. Or they hold their pain a lot closer to the surface. Michelle starts off like this, at least. As time goes on—not so much. (Which is maybe why I’m so worried about her). I think this is where it’s most obvious that it was written pre-Chain of Thorns, where most of Matthew’s story arc (which might be my favourite in all of TSC) happens. Misha hasn’t gotten there yet. Maybe she’s not the same person, off chasing colourful adventures. Maybe she would be, given she marries someone who has. Maybe a girl who’s creative and charming and friendly wouldn’t get the same attention and validation that a boy would, but criticised, chastised, corrected. Wouldn’t develop the confidence to travel alone, but would be drawn to someone who did. Maybe this is a prime example of the intersection of growing up female and neurodivergent, in a society where there were a lot of pressures on women (and it’s true, isn’t it, that the lack of demons in London for so many years was what catalysed the importation of mundane prejudices and silly social rules into the Enclave). She beats herself up over everything. She’s less unapologetically herself, and instead, the self-destructiveness behind the things she does are more obvious, given that it’s not just being a bohemian, it’s endangering her life without thought to the consequences. As if the consequences of staying still would be worse than whatever could be out there—I understand that one all too well. I’d be so worried if I were Hattie and Chester. I’m surprised Judith isn’t, and Tracey too. I can see why Fields is. But there’s not a lot any of them can do, except be there without judgement.

And I think that’s true of Matthew as well. It’s been coined on here a fair bit that his promiscuity (is that a mean word to say? I don’t want to mean it that way) is a form of self-harm, and I’d say also escapism. I’d say his whole experience with Downworld is, from that first day in CLS Jem saw him at the Shadow Market: he seems almost too happy and in awe then, as if it’s so starkly contrasted to the constraining, unbearable, painful-but-he-doesn’t-know-why life that he’s just high on all of it, and that high makes him unstable. It’s both a form of hypomania that I’m only starting to learn how to conceptualise (in my view, I may be wrong) and an abstraction of the way that people who have been abused as children tend to seek out (unintentionally, but it feels familiar but different enough to trick them into thinking it’s healthier, while having no concept of that that actually is) relationships that are also abusive. In Matthew’s case, the Hell Ruelle treat him as—what was it?—“a silly child, who is drawn to the flame because it is beautiful, without thinking that he might get hurt”—or something along those lines. It’s exciting and thrilling rather than dull responsibility, but either way, he grew up taking care of his father and feeling like he had no value otherwise, and now he spends his free time being entertaining and flirtatious and feeling like he has no value otherwise. I think in Matthew’s case that isn’t specifically addressed—his drinking is, and it’s linked back to that one traumatic event, but if you can read between the lines there is so much more that he’s caught up in and it’s kind of terrifying. Somehow, having a genderbent character makes it more explicit: that Michelle’s lifestyle could have killed her if it weren’t for her dog. It just hits you that there’s this little 17-18yo girl who can’t stop running into danger, she’s so loved by the other characters and yet running from a kind of torment the reader mostly sees from the outside. (Also I love the conceptualisation of Hattie and how much she cares for her but doesn’t know how). Misha’s the kind of character you want to take care of so overwhelmingly, but it’d be almost impossible to do so in a sustainable way: she keeps everyone, even her parabatai, at arm’s length so she doesn’t take them down with her. And I don’t know how to work with that, but I do relate and I do find that I want to imagine the possibilities of how she might feel better (it’s for me as much as her, and pretty similar to what a lot of us on here do in our matthew fics).

I think the first example we see of this is the shadow-to-chiswick event where Judith just disappears after Misha calls her a child of demons and says that’s where she belongs (canon). But what we don’t see in canon is the way Tracey and Christa send her home after and get mad she said that (in canon matthew is tearing apart the Institute trying to find James). And I know it was plot so she could go out and do things with fields. But I feel like that event kinda broke Misha’s friendship with the others, which, as we see in Chain of Thorns, was something Matthew really needed. Anyway, I feel like their paths branch off quite significantly from there; unfortunately it does mean we miss out on a lot of the parabatai relationship we see between James and Math. But in some ways it does suit these au characters better: both are very independent, and self-destructive in different ways. Not that James and Matthew aren’t, but a lot of what they go through is cushioned by privilege and the simple fact that men can wander around and get up to whatever bad ideas they like, without too great social repercussions or worries for their safety. While I’m there, I think another thing that would’ve been really cool to explore is Misha’s friendship with Addison (alt-Anna) and how they could’ve been there for one another in a way most couldn’t (and in the way we see Matthew and Anna doing exactly that). But instead we have Fields.

Because Misha’s scandal and trauma was to do with a romantic relationship (with an older girl, who was such a careless predator and I hate that for her, I bet she was targeted as the Consul’s daughter the same way Matthew was by Mother Hawthorne) it makes sense to resolve that by putting her in a relationship that has the potential to bring healing. And Fields is also an older girl, which I don’t think really matters but what does is that she is respectful, kind, caring, and wants Misha to heal—at times almost in a forceful way, but she’s self-aware of that and also very much able to radically accept and hold space for her the way her friends and family aren’t able to. Where she doesn’t feel like she has to put her own struggles on hold to look after them. (Matthew also does feel like he has to put his own struggles aside to take care of his friends, which he does imperfectly but it does seem to actually keep him going more often than not: the need to still be a full-functioning shadowhunter I think means his pride is able to keep him from giving up a lot of the time, combined with the love he has for his friends—but for a man to be the mum-friend is seen as going above and beyond; for a woman, it’s kind of expected and we kind of are expected to put our needs on hold to care for absolutely everyone else and then gaslit about having needs or struggles in the first place, creating an endless pile of demands for us to hurt ourselves with when there is no other feasible way out. So I think it is good for Misha to have this taken off her chest even with one person, even if it does mean the close vibe of the girls at the start of the story disintegrates rather than strengthens with what they go through, as it does for the Merry Thieves.)

Speaking of scandal and trauma and how helpless women were at the time, I think one thing that really broke my heart to read was the way Misha collected letters etc that might lead towards Lisette (that’s her name, right) getting some sort of justice. She can’t have much retribution (at least, she doesn’t seem to have the capacity, connections-wise, mental space-wise, etc, to press charges the way Alice does against Claire). She’s also being abused by her older sister, and neither her parents nor parabatai and other friends seem to have the resources to hold space for her to simply let her guard down and just be. Fields does. It’s hard for her, when she has so little power: she has the fame of being the Consul’s daughter, but in some ways it’s worse than not having that at all as all it means is she gets more scrutiny and no real impact. Her Big Trauma was having her secrets and privacy and dignity put in the hands of those who don’t care about her, so many of them, who just judge her and scrutinise and victim-blame until there is no escape. She feels trapped, she was barely holding it together to begin with, and Fields brings with her stories and promise of freedom. In some ways, she’s perfect for Misha. I don’t know if there would be some counterpart who would be perfect for Matthew when he has the ability to chase freedom on his own (also, I think Math can really be himself around James, whereas Judith is very distracted and doesn’t have the  same emotional intelligence that would be able to hold the waterfall of hurt Misha keeps to herself; James finds Matthew both relatable and the fact that he’s a lot more transparent than Misha also makes it easier to air out what exactly he’s feeling, which, I think, often would fall under dysphoric mania). But that leads me to my final point.

This one’s inspired by Taylor Swift’s Bejeweled, the first instalment in my Misha playlist which also includes Tina Arena’s You Set Fire To My Life (@ fields maybe) as well as Taylor Swift’s Tied Together With A Smile, long story short, Cold As You, Innocent, Picture to Burn, Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve, Lavender Haze, mirrorball, and the lakes; Imagine Dragons’ Giants, Dull Knives, and Easy Come Easy Go, 5 Seconds of Summer’s Red Line, TEARS!, COMPLETE MESS, Easy For You To Say, Jet Black Heart, Moodswings, and Rejects; Ashton Irwin’s Heart Shaped Box, Scar, and Drive; Luke Hemmings’ Slip Away, and Diamonds; Little Big Town’s The Thing That Wrecks You; and Delta Goodrem’s Safe to Believe. But the reason I highlight Bejeweled is that it’s a song about discovering yourself as someone who brightens the mood and is the life of the party, after being held back by a relationship, by demands and expectations. Misha is very much held back, except in her case it might be a relationship that helps her find herself again. But it’s too soon to know, I think—I haven’t seen if she is able to become the life of the party like Matthew is, discover herself, create, and brighten up the world.

#matthew fairchild #genderbent tsc #genderbent tlh #the last hours #dysphoric mania #when i walk in the room i can still make the whole place shimmer

[mejomonster]

Jin Mi from Ashes of Love, Xuanji from Love and Redemption, and Tantai Jin could all start a club about how it’s going having no emotion growing up

Jin Mi: was going great, excellent, until her friend went missing. Was still doing great, gender didn’t matter to Jin Mi and neither did ridiculous romance, but the people around her SURE thought it SHOULD matter so. ;-; it’s not going great for our babe.

Xuanji: doing AMAZING. she WAS bullied for the no feelings thing, and also nearly frozen to death, but her dad does love both his daughters AND xuanji’s sister babies her AND she’s got a shixiong looking out for her, AND a very sweet demon boy becomes her friend and is very willing to help her too. So a lot of her bad times (at least before the plot’s rolling) are more to do with her willing to suffer Endlessly for friends. she is bullied but like... when her sister ling long is intent to kill the bullies there’s only so much damage they can do, with ling long there to attack them and try and comfort xuanji after in her abrasive way. Xuanji also has quite a knack for accumulating friends anyway, which also helps. perhaps the worst part of the whole ordeal is mr. Abusive Controlling Gaslighting ex-from-another-life Bai Lin creeping around and STILL trying to control her, and the lack of emotions make it just that Bit extra hard to notice the red flags he’s throwing off and recognize the way she’s getting trapped.

Tantai Jin: honestly would’ve maybe done alright (i’m only in ep 4 though lol) if only bitches hadn’t CONSTANTLY wanted to harm him. Dad blamed him for his mom’s death and that’s not fair, so starvation and bullying here they come. The Jin palace likewise were just DICKS because to be mean to Tantai Jin was to do what the king would be happy with, then he got traded as a hostage where YET AGAIN the king would appeased if he’s suffering since he’s a hostage. So everywhere the poor kid went people wanted to beat him for status perks. Then to top it all off, poor kid can’t cry just like xuanji, and that made one of his maid caretakers think of him as a monster instead of just different (which sure didn’t help), that made the people beating him feel they could keep beating him hoping for more of a reaction, and just ;-; He seems like if he’d been given ANY friend or nice sibling, like xuanji, he would’ve probably did fine. But he didn’t have anyone on his side from like the one maid leaving onward to until he got his crow friend so. :c To top things off? Of COURSE he attached to Xiao Lin, the first ORDINARY person treating him NORMAL. And Xiao Lin had the status to make punching Tantai Jin not worth the social benefit of doing so. I would like the acquaintance friendship/admiration/parallels but differences explored more (both princes but one can feel and one cant, one has a mom who’s favored and one is an orphan whos hated, one seems to do only good in society’s eyes while the other can’t do ‘good’ even if he behaves the same). I really like the idea to parallel these two. I love this kind of writing. I’m also thinking... Xuanji could’ve been quite similar to him given the same childhood situation (and vice versa he probably would’ve turned out quite heroic and sweet if he’d had steadfast close emotional connections growing up like xuanji).

#tteotm #love and redemption #lb #also no im never gonna be over how lol i was hoping for an aromantic hero journey for ashes of lov #where jun mi searches for her friend and ignores romance and ignores gender mostly #(loved her nonbinary hinting until the show shamed her for not wearing dresses or looking fancy) #and when it veered obviously Away from that my heart started hurting but i knew it was coming