#chapter 16

[yesbothways]

I debated whether it should be Zoey or Mira who kissed Rumi the first time. I decided the best answer would be both. Rumi spends half this story on a quest in the demon realm... so Rumi can handle intensity. 🤣 From Chapter 16 of "Rumi In The Demon Realm" on AO3 Fanart by JadeQuarze Tumblr Kofi

[erinwantstowrite]

Erin you mentioned a woodpecker in chapter 16 and you activated my special interest in mythology and birds.. at the same time somehow. So I decided I must figure out the significance of the bird. I must.

woodpeckers have been known to peck at aluminium roof vents because they LOVE the sound it makes. This has relevance I swear. This woodpecker I am talking about is called the Desert Gilded Woodpecker. They are found in the Sonora Dessert and one of the most startling experiences that people reported upon touring there is a strange loud sound, sounding like “a machine gun.” In ancient Roman mythology, it is said this sound is made by Mars, the god of War; in his woodpecker form. Mars, is also the god of metal because it is believed that iron, or metal is sacred. The woodpeckers do not peck the metal vents for battle, but to show of to female woodpeckers. Make the biggest racket possibly to signal for a mate. Or to define territory.. or for many other reasons.

Bare with me this connects to the story I swear.

Mars was not actually originally the god of war. He was pro gal the father-god who brought bread for the two divine twins and their wolf-mother who was nursing them. This relates to woodpeckers, who carve the family home and help incubate the eggs before hatch. This is why a “woodpecker god” would be the perfect archetype for a nurturing male.

Chapter 16— “Whereas Loki is seemingly drawn to the empty sight, Peter finds his gaze wandering towards the giant oak tree casting shade over the benches. There's no wind rustling the leaves, but he hears the pitter patter of small feet.

He hands Haley off to Dick when they get to the benches. A red-headed woodpecker is standing on one of the branches. It peers down at Peter, just as curious as he is. Has Peter ever seen one of these in person before?”

After this, dick is seemingly continuously watching and checking in on Peter, even before this actually. Just like how male woodpeckers watch after their young, and how mars helped care for the two divine twins.

The woodpecker is mentioned three times after this, once — "Why would you need to escape?"

Dick stares Loki down.

Peter pointedly looks up into the tree, where the woodpecker is still chilling out. After a couple beats of silence from both offending parties, Dick presses, "Peter?"

Twice—"You need to be grateful that he wants to go back at all." Loki snaps. Both Peter and Dick flinch this time. He shrinks in on himself as the three of them go quiet. The only sound is the woodpecker getting closer to the ground again.”

Now here’s where it falls apart. Not anything on you, I just couldn’t place how the woodpecker getting closer had any relevance to the ancient Roman god, Mars. It could be a stretch, but the woodpecker could be getting closer as comfort, like how sick keeps comforting Peter the entire time. It just didn’t feel right. To me.

Thrice—“His chest feels lighter than it has in weeks, warm at the thought that Dick could be on to something here.

moving-!

The woodpecker abruptly flaps its wings, rustling the leaves around it. It flies up out of the branches of the great oak tree, towards the bright blue sky above them.”

Now it really fell apart. The bird leaving felt final, it could be related to male woodpeckers leaving their kids when they grow up, leaving them to their own journey. Or dick easing peters worries. But it didn’t feel right to me. This feels final, like a weight lifted off Peter’s shoulders. So I switched.

It haunted me. I couldn’t figure it out. I would think I had something, that i figured out a meaning of something. And then boom, gone. But it hit me, Norse mythology. I mean, Thor is literally less than one or two chapters away. Coincidentally, woodpeckers, in Norse mythology are called “Thor birds.” While Thor uses Mjolnir, the powerful woodpeckers will drum in trees nearby.

That’s all. That’s all I could find. I’ll admit, I’m a weak reader on Norse mythology. I don’t know a lot. Almost none, actually. Erin this bird haunts me. What did you mean by including this bird I need to know I MUST. You have thrown me a bone whether intentionally or not (it probably wasn’t. I’m insane about birds.) and I must chew it all until I finally get down to whatever thebfuck is inside that bone. WHAT IS INSIDE OF THE BONE ERIN?!?? WHAT DOES THE BIRD MEAN?!!

You have no idea how happy this ask made me. I was already doing a little hop and a skip over seeing how long it was and then I realized it's about the woodpecker!!! and now I'm over the moon because no one has really hit the nail on the head until now and I couldn't offer up any info until someone got it so YEAHHHH im excited!!

You're right in both ways! The woodpecker is "Thor's bird" in Norse Mythology (at least from what I could find), and it's also a metaphor for what's going on with Peter and Dick in that chapter!

A lot of people thought that the woodpecker was Mysterio, which made me giggle (and gave me ideas). But really, I've been hinting for many many chapters that Thor would be showing up in the story and he'd be relevant.

Specifically, I wanted to show that something magic was happening around Peter other than Loki. Someone else sent an ask or made a comment (can't remember which) pointing out the lightning had started a while ago. That lightning was my first hint, but I needed something else to show how close Klarion was getting with his magic, and how soon Thor would be showing up. I figured, well, maybe it should be a bird, to go on theme with Robin. Lo and behold- I find the woodpecker, related to Thor (loosely, I believe?), and when looking into them, I see they're family oriented. It fit all too well to have this woodpecker be a hint to Thor and a metaphor for Dick and Peter's growing relationship, and how Dick has pushed Peter forward towards success: whether he stay there with Dick, or fly off on his own.

Gahhhhh there's a lot I could say about all of that. How Dick is pushing (challenging his world view) Peter out of the nest (his comfort zone) so he can learn to fly on his own (have confidence in himself) like Richard never got to,,, but I'm a wee bit tired and this post would end up too long and rambly lol

[everyakipanel]

Chapter 16: First Taste

[corvus-obeb]

I wish people talked about Belphie before and after chapter 16 more because OH MY GOD. That part shows how well the emotion fear can affect peoples decision makings.

I have a friend who loves Belphie and they will baby him and it irks me so badly because that man shouldnt be babied.

He was plotting killing us before we even walked through the halls of RAD.

Could Lucifer and Belphie had handled the situation better? 100% but let's put ourselves in their shoes

Belphie : you find out that your older brother and his (technically) boss/best friend is allowing Humans to coexist with you and your family. Humans are the reason you are down here in the first place and what caused the death of your sister. You are upset and try to go confront the prince, not thinking fully clearly due to blind rage. Your brother puts you in a time out and when you haven't calmed down keeps you in there until he deems it nessasary.

Now onto Lucifer : Your brother threatens to Kill your best friend and the Future human that will be living in your house. In a state of panic and trying to desculate the situation you put your brother in a time out. When you go and check on him he is now telling you HOW he's going to kill the human. So you feel like you don't have a choice but to keep him up there in order to protect him, the human, the prince, and everyone involved.

Now you maybe asking "Corvus what about Diavolo?" Ok let's think about it

Diavolo : you find out your best friend of many many years has lied to you about the weabouts of his brother, you are also finding out at the same time that said brother was plotting the death of you and the human that is in your care and your responsibility. Rightfully upset you put your friend on house arrest and the brother is sentences to treason.

Yes they could have handled things better. But at the same time they did what they thought was best in the moment because they were to scared of the outcome if they didn't handle it right that second.

And what SUCKS is that people don't talk about this enough.

If anyone wants my opinion on other obey me things feel free to ask my asks inbox is VERY open :3

[orellazalonia]

The Life You Make

Summary: You secretly meet with Maren, the only person from the other side who ever seemed to truly see you, leaving the encounter changed but keeping it to yourself. After some reflecting, you make your final decision; no longer waiting to be seen and finally living for yourself.

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | The One You Don’t See Masterlist

You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving.

Not because you meant to be reckless. Not even because you owed Maren anything. But because something in that message, something she left unsaid, had clawed under your skin and refused to let go.

So you traced the code.

You followed the slight inconsistencies Bruce missed, the low-frequency signal disguised beneath an outdated Stark sublayer, something no one except someone like you would even think to check. The coordinates it gave were vague, a general grid of downtown Manhattan. Enough to know where to start but not enough for anyone else to follow without breadcrumbs.

But Maren had known you would.

That was the trick, wasn’t it?

She always saw the pieces you tried to hide and you always wanted to believe she’d never use that against you.

It was dusk when you found her.

A half-crumbled rooftop above a closed deli. The kind of place that would’ve felt like a sanctuary once. Something overlooked, quiet, a little crooked but safe in its own way. You didn’t announce your arrival. Just climbed the rusted ladder and stepped onto rooftop.

She was already there. Sitting on a folding chair, legs crossed, and sipping a takeout coffee like she was waiting for a friend.

She looked the same. Sharp-eyed, relaxed, and dangerously at ease.

“Hey,” She greeted softly, like it had only been days. Like you hadn’t been left behind.

You didn’t move closer. “Maren.”

Her eyes warmed. “Still remembered my name.”

“You didn’t give it to them,” You responded.

A breeze lifted her curls gently from her shoulders. “I didn’t think they’d need it.”

“Because I wasn’t supposed to stay?”

“No,” She said calmly. “Because I didn’t think they’d bother asking.”

The honesty landed between you like a dropped stone.

You walked a little closer, still not within reach, but enough to read the finer lines on her face. She hadn’t been untouched by the fallout. There was a bruise at her collarbone and something stitched just below her wrist.

“You got out,” You said.

“So did you.”

“I didn’t plan to.”

She looked at you for a long time then. “Did you ever?”

You didn’t answer.

Maren set the coffee aside, then leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “They’re trying to erase the whole operation like we were just a bad dream. That we didn’t serve a function. That we didn’t see people.”

You stayed quiet.

“I know what we were a part of,” She added. “I’m not pretending we were saints. But I saw you, and I think you saw me, too.”

“I didn’t come to join you,” You said firmly.

She smiled gently. “I know.”

“Then why the message?”

Maren tilted her head. “Because you’re not done being used. You just switched handlers. And I thought maybe you’d like a reminder that not everything good has to come from people with clean records.”

You exhaled.

“That’s what this is about?” You asked. “Recruiting me back in?”

“No,” She said simply. “It’s about letting you know your choices still belong to you. They don’t get to act like they created your value just because they finally noticed you.”

You hated how much that resonated.

And she could see it.

“You’re angry,” She continued softly. “Not at me, not even at them. You’re angry that it took you almost breaking for anyone to see you.”

You looked away as your voice cracked. “I just want to exist somewhere without being a symbol.”

Maren stood but slowly, no threat in it.

“Then don’t be,” She said. “Exist for you. That’s all I wanted to say.”

You met her eyes.

She looked tired, but grounded in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever be.

“I can’t go back with you,” You whispered.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Silence stretched.

She gave you a small nod. “This is the last time I reach out. If you ever need to find me… well, you’ll know how.”

You watched her walk to the far edge of the rooftop, toward the fire escape, toward the alleys, but just before she left, she paused.

“You mattered even before they noticed you,” She said. “Don’t forget that again.”

Then she was gone.

And you were alone on the rooftop, breathing in air that felt both heavier and lighter than it had an hour ago.

When you finally went back to the tower, you returned through a side entrance.

No one stopped you.

It was late enough that the halls were quiet, just the low hum of overhead lights and the occasional flicker from security panels. You slipped past the common room, down a corridor that still echoed faintly of sterilized metal and over-polished tile.

No one asked where you’d gone and you didn’t offer it.

You half-expected FRIDAY to chime in with a pleasant “Welcome back,” but even the AI kept her voice to herself tonight.

Your room was just as you left it. Lights dim, blanket half-folded on the foot of the bed, and a half-read book on the nightstand. You stood in the doorway for a moment, hands in your coat pockets, like a guest in a place you weren’t sure you belonged to anymore.

You didn’t really feel triumphant or guilty. You just felt… tired. Heard, in a way that no longer needed validation.

There was a knock at the door, not sharp or urgent, more familiar.

You took a slow breath and opened it to find Bucky standing there, looking like he hadn’t decided whether to speak or leave.

His eyes swept over you once, quietly.

“You weren’t around earlier,” He said after a beat.

You shrugged. “Just needed air.”

He nodded. “I get that.”

Neither of you filled the silence. It didn’t demand to be filled tonight. But his gaze lingered, though. Searching, like he wanted to ask something but didn’t quite have the right.

You tilted your head slightly. “Something on your mind?”

He looked at the floor for a second, then back at you. “Just wondering if you’re okay.”

You could’ve lied. But instead, you said softly, “I’m figuring it out.”

His mouth twitched, something between a frown and an understanding smile. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

He stepped back then, not pushing further, and left without another word. You closed the door and leaned against it, eyes falling shut.

No one on the team ever asked where you went.

At least, not outright.

You realized they did notice though. They weren’t blind, and this wasn’t the kind of place where people slipped out for long without someone logging it. Even if it wasn’t spoken, your disappearance lived in the way Wanda had looked at you in the hallway that morning, or the way Bruce hesitated when he passed your room.

They knew. They just didn’t know how far you’d gone or what you were thinking about bringing back. But neither did you.

That was the problem.

You hadn’t left your room much that day.

The others didn’t push. Steve had asked once, lightly with a “Everything good?” and you’d nodded with enough conviction that he didn’t pry.

But good wasn’t the word for it. Not really.

You sat on your bed with your knees drawn up. Outside your window, dusk was spilling over the compound in colors that didn’t feel real. Purple, bruised clouds. A sky that couldn’t decide whether it was ending or beginning.

And still, you hadn’t decided either.

You’d been back for weeks now. Reintegrated and accepted, at least you think. You even had a door with your name on it now, and that fact alone used to feel like a miracle. But something inside you still pulled.

It wasn’t as simple as wanting to leave or wanting to stay. You just… didn’t know if either choice was really yours.

Because what did staying mean? Working again with the same people who’d passed over you without a second glance? Who only started listening when you’d slipped too far to ignore? Who now offered you smiles and space, but still hesitated when your name came up in strategy?

It didn’t matter how warm the tower was or how gently people spoke now. That ache didn’t leave. Because kindness wasn’t the same as belonging and safety wasn’t the same as purpose.

And what did leaving mean? Walking back toward the shadows. Toward a world that may have used you, yes, but made you feel essential while doing it. No waiting for your turn to speak. No second-guessing if your presence was wanted in the room.

You remembered walking into a room and already being listened to. You remembered being seen first, not last. Remembered how no one had asked you to prove yourself. They just handed you work and trusted that you could do it.

It hadn’t been great, but it had been clear.

Here, you weren’t being used, but you weren’t sure if you were needed either.

You bit the inside of your cheek, hard enough to ground yourself.

Neither side had your full trust anymore. One had forgotten you. The other had claimed you. But neither had ever really asked what you wanted.

Because the truth was… you didn’t know yourself. You didn’t know how to want anything anymore. Not without guilt. Not without feeling like you were betraying someone no matter which way you leaned.

And when another knock came at the door, gentle and uncertain. You didn’t answer. And this time, it faded.

Yet you still didn’t move. You just sat there, in the stillness, wondering when you’d stopped dreaming of anything at all. Wondering if it was safer to let go of it all: every side, every banner, every mission, and just disappear for a while. Not to punish anyone, not to run.

But because you didn’t belong in a war that kept changing names and colors.

You just wanted to exist. And maybe, more than anything… You wanted to stop feeling like a question no one ever really wanted the answer to.

When the time came for you final decision, you didn’t make a big announcement.

No dramatic exit, no grand gesture. Just a quiet conversation with Steve, an expression of thanks, and a simple truth: “I think it’s time I found something of my own.”

Steve didn’t fight it.

He’d seen the shift in you over the past week, the way your gaze lingered a little longer out windows, the way you’d grown quieter in meetings, not from fear or doubt, but reflection. You weren’t withdrawing. You were ready, for something different.

He placed a firm hand on your shoulder that morning, eyes gentle. “You’ve always had a place here and you always will,” He said. “But I get it. Just promise you’ll stay in touch?”

You nodded. “I will.”

It was strange, how simple it all was. How easy, in a way.

Wanda hugged you without words. Bruce handed you a small drive full of tools and data “in case you get bored.” Clint offered to teach you how to fish (you declined, politely). Sam grinned and told you he’d keep your name on the comms list, “just in case we ever really screw things up.”

And Bucky…

You found him in the gym that evening, running drills with the punching bag like it owed him answers. You waited until he paused, wiping the sweat from his brow. His eyes flicking toward you the second you stepped inside.

“I heard,” He said.

You nodded, arms crossed loosely over your chest. “Didn’t mean for it to be a big thing.”

“It’s not.”

He leaned against the wall, towel over his shoulder. His voice was even, but his eyes… weren’t.

“You’re really going?”

“I am.”

He didn’t speak right away. Just studied you, like he was trying to memorize this version of you that was calmer, more certain. Stronger, but not in the way they’d taught you to be.

“I’m not mad,” He said, almost to himself. “I just…”

You tilted your head. “Just?”

He looked away, jaw tightening. “I guess I thought we’d have more time.”

Your chest ached, but you kept your voice steady. “Time wouldn’t have changed anything.”

He didn’t argue, and that said enough.

“I’m not disappearing,” You added. “I just want to try something that’s mine. A space where I’m not constantly wondering who I’m supposed to be for other people.”

He looked at you again, and this time his gaze softened, something between regret and quiet pride.

“You deserve that,” He spoke softly. “You always did.”

You gave a small smile. “Thanks for seeing it.”

His expression faltered. “I wish I’d seen it sooner.”

You didn’t answer because there wasn’t anything left to say that wouldn’t reopen things you’d both worked hard to close.

Instead, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, brief but solid. He returned it, strong and careful, like he was afraid to make you stay.

When you pulled back, you offered one last truth:

“I don’t regret coming here, but I think I’m ready to stop surviving and start living.”

Bucky nodded. And this time, he didn’t try to stop you.

You left the next morning. No goodbye party. No send-off. Just a new key in your pocket and the weight of a future you hadn’t mapped out yet, but finally felt like you were allowed to claim.

And for the first time in a long while, you weren’t afraid of starting over.

The apartment isn’t big.

It was a third-floor walk-up, tucked between a tiny laundromat and a florist that closed too early on Sundays. The paint on the stairwell peeled near the railing, the hall light flickered occasionally, and your neighbor two doors down plays the same jazz vinyl every Saturday morning without fail.

But the lock clicks smoothly when you turn your key.

And the place is yours.

You’ve got a secondhand couch tucked into the corner, a desk by the window that gets just enough sun to keep your plant alive, and a kitchen that hums with effort every time you cook something that takes more than one pan.

Your favorite mug sits beside the sink, a bit chipped and a little stained from too much tea, but still intact. You haven’t thrown it out. You don’t throw much out anymore.

Your job isn’t flashy either. Just a part-time job centered around data review for a quiet nonprofit tech company. You work from home, mostly in sweatpants and fuzzy socks, answering emails and cleaning up reports that no one else has the patience for. It’s not heroic. It’s not dangerous. It’s not the kind of work anyone applauds for.

But it doesn’t demand you bleed for it. It’s peaceful with minimal stress and that’s enough right now.

You sleep with the window open. The city noise doesn’t bother you anymore, it’s different than the alarms, the explosions, or the sterile beeping of underground halls. This noise is life. Someone’s music. Someone’s fight with their dog. Someone’s laughter echoing from the fire escape below yours.

No one here looks at you like you’re broken, lost, or a liability they forgot to check on. They don’t look at you at all, and weirdly… that helps.

Some mornings you still wake too early, your body anticipating something that isn’t coming. An alert, a summons, a meeting; but there’s only the light filtering in through your dusty curtains and the soft, rhythmic drip of your bathroom faucet. You don’t have to explain your worth to anyone. No more rooms full of eyes that forget you’re there until they need something. So you sit up, stretch, and then start your day.

And maybe the most surprising thing of all?

You haven’t completely let go. You still think about them.

You wonder if the others are okay. If Bruce is sleeping, if Tony is still working on some new tech, if Wanda found time to sit in the garden she liked. You even think of the woman you used to be sure had everything you didn’t, the one who saw Bucky when you were invisible. You wonder if she ever thinks of you now.

But you haven’t cut them all out completely.

You still text Steve now and then, he checks in the way a big brother might. Always making sure you're okay without crowding you. Sometimes he sends old photos from missions you’d almost forgotten you helped plan. You keep them saved, even if you don’t say much back.

Bucky… he’s more complicated.

You haven’t seen him in person since you left, but every so often there’s a message waiting. Nothing heavy, just a link to an article he thought you’d like or a comment about your favorite show. Once, a blurry picture of a stray cat with the words: ”Reminded me of you. Quiet and staring too hard.”

You didn’t know what that meant. You still don’t but you didn’t delete it either.

And then there’s Maren.

Sometimes only sometimes, you meet for coffee. Neutral places, nothing secretive. She always greets you like an old friend, not a former co-worker or someone who almost rewired your life. She talks about books she’s reading or asks about your work. Once or twice, she’s offered you quiet compliments you don’t know how to take.

“I bet you’re still sharper than the rest of them.”

You don’t argue, but you don’t agree either. You’re still figuring out what you think of her. Sometimes you sit across from her in some small café and wonder if she misses the shadows. If she looks at you and wonders what side you’d choose now. You never ask and she never presses.

And maybe that’s the understanding between you, mutual ambiguity. You’re not trying to fix anything anymore. You’re just trying to live.

And most nights, that feels like enough.

Even if you miss some of them. Even if part of you still watches the news a little too closely. Even if a small, quiet part of your chest twists when Bucky’s name scrolls past a headline.

You don’t chase those feelings down anymore. You let them come, let them pass, like trains you chose not to board.

Because this life, this apartment, this job, this space; it isn’t perfect.

But it’s yours. And after everything? That’s a hell of a start.

Taglist: @herejustforbuckybarnes @iyskgd @torntaltos @julesandgems @maesmayhem @w-h0re @pookalicious-hq @parkerslivia @whisperingwillowxox @stell404 @wingstoyourdreams @seventeen-x @mahimagi @viktor-enjoyer @vicmc624 @msbyjackal @winchestert101 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @avivarougestan @saoirses-things @itsmejen @saucysasha2035 @smokescreen1000 @poiscntree @therealh18 @vieenr0se @ravenswritingroom @mel-reads

A/N: And we’ve reached the official “canon” end! I think it fits the kind of ambiguity and ‘depth’ this series has. And nowww, I can make alternate endings. (Maybe, hopefully). I can technically even continue this ending and maybe get closer to Bucky like I had initially wanted. And so it’s actually faithful to the initial pairing this story was supposed to be for 😭 Anyways, I’ll focus more on maybe one-shots, alternate endings, or something else. Thank you all so much for following along!!!

[heart-wit-strength]

Saying a happy birthday to the Sashannarcy pirate au with a new chapter :3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38021194/chapters/215805491

Taglist: @wren-writes-things @sporadicgayfrog @impact801 @balmora-citizen @styx142 @brii1355 @calapotle @reyraccoon @hey-its-puddlesock @yourpersonaltimebomb @darcysd20 @waybrights @lili250307 @amisplacedalphabet @polaroidpaladin

[indefinitearts]

!?

One Piece - Chapter 16

[isabeauwolf]

Four. Four soulmates. Oh Kamisama no! - Reader x ShiggyOverDabiHawks 16

💞 Chapter 1 💞Chapter 2 💞Chapter 3 💞Chapter 4 💞Chapter 5 💞Chapter 6 💞Chapter 7 💞Chapter 8 💞Chapter 9 💞Chapter 10 💞Chapter 11 💞Chapter 12 💞Chapter 13 💞Chapter 14 💞Chapter 15 💞Chapter 17 💞Chapter 18 💞Chapter 19 💞Chapter 20 💞Chapter 21 💞Chapter 22

💞Part 16: Lost

The two remaining Villains, clearly guilty and panicking Hero, remained behind as they watched Overhaul calmly chase after you.

Dabi is eating his breakfast without a care. Trying to enjoy his meal and ignore all the information you had just dumped onto the floor and left without further explanation. He'd never told anyone about his past, the coma, trying to go home and his heart and mind finally cracking and spiraling into his revenge scheme. His grip tightened on his fork, stabbing the fluffy, warm, and cheesy eggs, which made his mouth water. Damn, there goes his ace in the hole. He thought bitterly. Then again, you hadn't exactly said who this father was. You had said you hated All For One and Endeavor. It wouldn't take long to figure it would, if he knew his other three companions.

The sound of cabinets slamming brought Dabi out of his head. His gaze shifted to the Hero pulling out a white reusable Chinese takeout container you'd kept in the bottom drawer with the rest of your Tupperware. Hawks shoved forkfuls or a sample of everything he could fit into that container as he shoved a biscuit into his mouth, or what he could as he twirled on his feet and rushed in the direction of the door. "The hell are you goin', speedy?" Dabi chuckled, amused by the usual cool and air-headed acting Number Two Hero running like a chicken with his head cut off.

"Out," Hawks mumbled between mouthfuls, tugging on his thick bombers jacket.

Shigaraki carefully made his plate as he chuckled, knowing and mocking. "No, you're worried about her." He turned his head to observe the comical spectacle of the red-winged hero hopping from one foot to the other, cursing up a storm as he fought to slip on his boots and furiously tie the laces.

"Does it matter?" Hawks huffed, worried, and guilty, twisting harder and tighter within his gut. He didn't want to leave things as they were.

"I'm serious, lovebird." Dabi cut in. "The way she looked, if you confront her right now after that outburst, you will get a black eye and a bitch slap." He dug into his pancakes, chewing and licking the syrup off his mismatched lip as Hawks left out the door without another word or glancing back. "Well, can't say I didn't warn him." He mumbled out loud to himself, giving a casual and uncaring shrug of his shoulders.

Shigaraki and Dabi kept to themselves.

Dabi eating in the kitchen, and Shigaraki was eating at your computer desk, reading something as he scrolled, and the occasional click of the mouse filled the silence. The blue-haired man was lost in the digital world as he ate slowly and carefully without making a mess.

Neither wanted to bring up the obvious questions.

Your dislike, no... Deep-seated hatred for All For One and Endeavor.

You knew the dark, corrupt illusion of peace.

The dirty dealings, the cold, hard truth that not all heroes were heroic.

Pride, greed, power hungry, jealousy, madness, and one man's obsession with someone could plunge them and their loved ones into chaos and borderline insanity.

Maybe we do have something in common. Dabi thought as he set his dirty dishes into the sink for Shigaraki to clean.

Hours passed before you, Overhaul, and Hawks came back.

You didn't acknowledge Hawks. Choosing to ignore him and his apology and gift. The smell of freshly baked goods wafted into the air, and various pastries, cookies, donuts, and cakes were stuffed into three large boxes.

It was entertaining, at least. Watching the big red feathered pigeon openly pout and sulk, his wings drooping and sagging to the floor. Which Dabi thought he deserved it after being a brainless egghead. Has he forgotten that he, Overbeak, and handyman were your favorite villains? Bird boy should be working smarter, not harder. Dabi inwardly snickered.  

They had enough leftover breakfast to live off of for tonight's dinner.

You took your plateful and retreated into your room.

Nobody stopped you.

You usually didn't.

A habit and rule you bided by since you were a kid. However, you needed to be alone tonight, which you explained before entering your bedroom.

After dinner, Overhaul informed them of today's events.

Him following you inside the bar, a fight breaking out, you nearly getting hurt, and him saving you. Meeting your boss and the two "non-spatial awareness" and "rude" idiots, as Overhaul referred to them.

"Well, I'll be damned." Dabi interrupted the yakuza's boring recap. "You've caught the pathetic love bug, aintcha?" He tilted his head, giving the brunette, golden-eyed man a dirty, knowing look. "It's catching."

"That's utter nonsense." Overhaul denied cooly, his cheeks heating beneath his mask. "Soulmate or no, it's too soon and early for love to blossom."

Dabi blinked. "We don't even know the rules, unlike our bitchy, prissy, high horse."

Hawks sat, eating by himself. Moping. Barely eating or touching his dinner.

"Other than our mission and goal, no," Shigaraki interjected, his own far-off and blank stare landing on the wall beside Dabi.

The fuck was wrong with Handyman?

They each called it a night. Deciding to dig more into the three men Overhaul confronted and interacted with today, later this week.

💛💛💛💛💛

A masculine figure entered your room.

You were sound asleep.

Unaware of your sudden visitor.

His heartbeat thundered within his chest and drummed loudly, even in his own ears. Waiting for you to stir or acknowledge the noise of your door opening and closing quietly behind him with a soft click. Swallowing thickly and licking his cracked and dry lips, he slowly shuffled forward, tiptoeing lightly to the edge of your bed. Your soft breathing, the rise and fall of your chest, drew his attention before shifting his gaze back into your bed. He knew this was a bad idea. A stupid impulse. Rude and crazy, but he couldn't stay away. No matter how many times, he told himself he should just stay away; keep his distance.

Your words this morning wouldn't leave his head. Surely, what you said was all lies. Half mad, induced rambling during fits of tiredness and anger. He noticed the dark circles underneath your eyes from your lack of proper sleep habits over the past two nights. Surprised that he'd begun to feel guilty.

Inwardly, sighing, he lowered his body to crawl onto his knees onto your bed; the mattress dipped and groaned against his added weight. You didn't notice. An advantage in his favor, he supposed. He moved closer to the wall and lay down on his side beside you, cautiously covering himself in your blanket and scooting a tad more to feel your warmth and body heat.

He leaned forward as if he meant to kiss her. Instead, he shifted his head to whisper into her ear. "Why do you cry for me?" His rough voice came out soft and puzzled, a rare childlike wonder shining within his eyes. "Why do you care about my past? My well-being and future? You know you shouldn't." He mumbled, hands twitching and fidgeting in earnest nervousness as his palms became sweaty and trembled slightly. The need to touch your hand again, your skin, so soft and smooth, left him aching and burning for more.

Tomura pulled back, frowning. His pinky finger flexed, then rose and lightly caressed the back of your hand. "Even after knowing and seeing all that I've done, you still..." He began lowering each finger until only his middle finger remained hovering; his heartbeat quickened, and his cheeks reddened. "Accept me?" His crimson eyes darted around the room, zeroing in on the collection of merchandise that was only of him. "A fan?" He whispered more to himself than to you. "Is it pity? Are you as crazy as the rest of the world?"

Tomura never thought in a million years that he'd ever get a fan of his own, let alone a fangirl. Someone is secretly cheering for him in the background. True, he had to share your devotion; however, he wasn't going to let that annoying detail stop him. His gaze shifted to the bundle of plushies within your arms, a miniature copy of himself staring, father on its face, red doll-like eyes, motionless, teasing him, taunting him. His frown lowered into a scowl. Why was he feeling jealous of a stuffed animal?

Hesitantly, Tomura lets his middle finger fall as he presses the full weight of his hand, engulfing yours. Scowl disappearing into a firm line. Holding his breath, waiting. Waiting for this useless, shameless hope blooming within his chest, only for everything to come crashing down, and watching in horror as you break down and turn into dust.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

Three.

Silent, breathless.

He waited.

Nothing.

After finally realizing his lungs were burning, sending an inaudible signal and warning to his brain that he needed oxygen, air. He finally inhaled, a shaky and shuddering breath of relief. Last night wasn't a delusion. He could touch you. Feel your warmth. A shiver of embarrassment and heat digs into the base of his scalp, down his spine to his toes. Tomura was ashamed to admit he'd been testing his quirk all day. Checking for errors and malfunctions. He found none. Gripping a handful of trash? Dust. Lying down all five of his fingers over the face of a creep, shameless, leering, and ogling your figure from the shadows of a dark alleyway? History.

So, he did some research. Using your non password-protected computer as napped on the couch, snoring away, legs tangled in blankets with his pillow covering his eyes. He could read your physical copies of the manga, but he didn't want to accidentally activate his quirk and dust your volumes. He pulled up an online translation and began to read. The more he read, the more shocked he’d become by what you had revealed last night.

Memories of past events came back to him as he stared at the computer screen, devouring page after page of the digital manga right there in pictures in black and white: the USJ Attack and Hosu Incident, his meeting with Midoriya at the mall, The Vanguard Action Squad ruining U.A.'s summer training camp, The Raid of Kurogiri's Bar, Bakugo's escape by those made brats and Midoriya. His Master's capture, his defeat by All Might, Twice bringing Overhaul to him, and their confrontation.

Tomura finally took a break after hours, rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his hand. He'd only gotten glimpses last night, here and there. He left the computer on, threw on his hoodie and shoes, and headed outside when Dabi called out to him.

"It's y'er turn to scrounge for rent money." The black-haired flame user reminded him; he kicked off the blanket and pillow to sit upright and stretched.

Tomura turned his head, clicking his tongue. "Yeah, yeah, I know." His scarred, dry lips curl. "Which means it's your turn as chore boy today, isn't it?" He chuckled, watching the blue-eyed man made of burn scars and healthy skin, his posture growing hard and ridged, irritation evident by his tense body language. "Care not to burn down the house chasing dust bunnies." He laughed, drawing his hood up, and left.

"Don't end up on America's Most Wanted," Dabi countered bitterly, scowling as he snagged his carton of cigarettes and scoffed. "I ain't busting y'er scrawny ass out of jail."

After wandering around in new and uncharted territory, he furiously stopped himself from scratching his neck raw and bloody; he'd gathered enough cash to put in the fish boil as they all agreed. Each of them decided to sell and steal what they could to put towards giving you rent. Deciding to leave their old apartment to stay here and rooming up.

Tomura snapped back to the present, finding his body had moved on autopilot.

He didn't know why. He brought your hand closer to his person. Wordlessly, placing your hand on the top of his head, holding them there. Heat adoring his pale cheeks, burning the back of his neck to the tips of his ears. Then he intertwined your hands again, guiding it down his face to rest on his cheek. He closed his eyes, breathing in your sweet scent of coconut and pressing your palm closer into his skin.

Your presence calmed him. He felt light, his breathing synchronizing with your own as he began to feel drowsy. Lying down to rest his head on your shoulder, burying his nose into the crook of your neck, tangling your legs with his own, and holding your hand, fingertips drawing patterns lazily.

He knew it was dangerous to stay here.

Knowing you'd scold him come morning, and yet Tomura couldn't force himself to leave.

He wanted to stay.

And stay he did.

He was warm, soaking in the warmth of another person's body .... he didn't know how long he stayed there. Minutes? Hours? Loneliness slowly faded away. His face softened into a man who'd finally found inner peace. Blinking and fighting sleep. He wanted to savor this peaceful moment longer, greedier for this rare moment of time and space between you. Knew in the morning he'd go back to acting tough, distant and try to pretend nothing happened.

He hadn't been able to sleep much since coming here. Same as Overhaul, who's mind would overthink and work itself into overdrive until he forced himself to sleep. Tomura's vision began hazy, lids becoming half-lidded and heavy. A yawn escaped as his breathing slowed, matching your own, and he started to fall deeper and deeper into your warmth, your soft and comfy bed. The smell of coconut became his new favorite calming scent, and he finally slipped into slumber.

No memories of blood, screams, and decay.

He slept peacefully.

Was this your secret power?

Bringing them a semblance of security? Inner peace? Sanity? Covering him in a thick and heavy blanket of affection and intimacy, he'd been without and denied its joys for far too long.

Dabi opened the door to your bedroom and paused, a strawberry pocky hanging limp between his lips as he nibbled on his midnight snack. Well, isn't that a surprising sight? He inwardly chuckled, pulling out his camera and taking a picture.

The black-haired, blue-eyed villain never would have thought Tomura Shigaraki would beat him into your bed. He was inwardly embarrassed for having the same idea as crusty. Leaning his weight into the door, scrolling his camera roll at the picture he'd found himself taking of you all week. Stalking wouldn't be the only crime on his long list. He's used to looming in the shadows, watching and observing from the darkness, unknown and going unnoticed until he made himself known.

---- end of part 16---

Okay to clarify, the sneaking into the bedroom was a toss-up between Shigaraki and Dabi. So, I wrote it without saying who for a minute to amp up the mystery. ;) If you are disappointed by it not being Dabi, don't worry I've got plenty of cringy ideas for Dabi. My focus had shifted to weaving both into the spotlight this chapter.

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