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softlyspector · 8 months

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strawberries

Summary: Ellie agrees to come over for dinner.

This can be read as a standalone, set after clouds Joel comes home to find you telling your daughter a bedtime story.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word count: ~2.4k

Warnings: set in the clouds universe but can be read alone, Joel and the reader have a daughter together, certified girl dad Joel Miller, allusions to events in tlou part 2, Joel is a sad old guy, Joel and Ellie are not on good terms

A/N: Hello. I'm back on my soft dad bullshit! This is a little longer than I intended it to be, but I'm used to writing 10-15k so I'll call this a win. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!

Frost sparkles brightly in the front yard, diamonds and crystals, boundless, endless hills and valleys of it.

Joel is upstairs when the front door opens. Cold air rushes into the house, blisteringly, brutally cold, frozen drafts of it. He can feel it, even in Evie’s room.

His daughter gives an exaggerated, full body shiver and reaches chubby little hands up to him, fingers opening and closing in a silent request to be picked up.

He tucks Evie into his arms and bends without stooping over to grab her little blanket. It’s patterned with strawberries, vestiges of things from when she was a baby, a consolation prize to him that you’d traded for just days before Evie would be born.

It’s pink, the strawberries a bright, smiling red, pockets of green leaves and tiny, carefully stitched seeds. He had wanted to paint his spare bedroom pink when you were still pregnant, but you’d settled on sunshine yellow instead.

The pink, the strawberries, had reminded him of another little girl, another little pink blanket. It had been more than a gift for compromising on the color of the walls.

He hears you pad through the house to the entryway, soft footed and quiet as a mouse. “Hey, kiddo,” your voice drifts up the staircase, airy light and golden hued. “I’m really glad you decided to come.” After a moment you add, “Joel is, too.”

Joel buries his nose in Evie’s hair and she rewards him with a giggle at the scrape of his beard against her cheek. She sounds like sunshine, like a little trickster god that doesn’t ever feel the cold. He smiles and a tiny hand splays across his jaw.

Nerves beat anxiously against his lungs, leaving little plum colored bruises strung across his chest, his heart.

“Yeah,” Ellie answers from below, and her tone is uncomfortable but not hostile, not yet, not with you. The front door squeaks as it swings shut. “I almost brought Dina with me,” she admits with a slightly awkward laugh.

There’s a short silence, the shuffle of fabric. You’re hugging her, he knows you are, cheek pressed to her hair, arm around her shoulders.

“Next time,” you say, voice muffled and laughing bright, “bring Dina. We wouldn’t mind.”

“Ellie,” Evie says, her voice a little gasp. The tiny star of her hand disappears from Joel’s cheek. It leaves a cold spot on his skin. “Daddy,” She cranes in his arms, looking toward her bedroom door like she might catch a glimpse of Ellie if she looked hard enough. Joel presses a hand to her back to keep her in his arms when she tilts a little too far. “Ellie!”

The blanket slips down her shoulders when she bounces in excitement.

“Yep,” he says, readjusting the strawberries over her back. “Ellie’s here. Let’s go see her, baby.”

He carries Evie in his arms down the steps, and they creak the whole way. He keeps his hand protectively against her back and she leans her head against his shoulder, warm and heavy, thumb in her mouth.

The front door is shut but the entryway still feels cold. You and Ellie have relocated to the kitchen, puddles in the shapes of clouds crowded around the mat in front of the door, slush like mountainsides sliding glacially slow away from Ellie’s abandoned boots.

Light, bright and warm, floods the kitchen, spills through the archway he’s almost afraid to step through.

Your favorite album is playing over the stereo. The sound of your voice is low and peppered with love. “I miss having all of you together.” The low pulse of music is undercut by the sound of your knife rising and falling against a cutting board.

Ellie makes a discontent noise.

“I know. Trust me, I do,” you answer her, even though she didn’t say anything. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss it. That I don’t miss you.”

There’s a long silence. The song spins on, one of the slower tracks on the album. “I know,” she sighs eventually. “I know.”

Evie points one hand toward the kitchen but doesn’t lift her head from his shoulder. “Mama?” She murmurs against the collar of his shirt, around the thumb in her mouth.

“Mm. Mama’s waitin’ on us,” he steps into the light, crosses through the dining room, and into the bright x-ray of the kitchen light.

Eva squirms in his arms, wriggly and so strong, when she sees Ellie. Joel goes to one knee to set her feet firmly on the floor. The little pink blanket is left in his hand when she darts out of his grip.

She’s dexterous and wiley, and goddamn fast, for a three year old.

Sarah had been the same.

Ellie catches her on the other side of the kitchen and swings her up into her arms, smiling, poking her in the sides until she laughs and then shrieks.

It’s a violent reminder of the familiarity that his daughters have with each other, without him. There are things he’s not privy to anymore, not even in his own house, with his own family. Eva’s laughs fade into giggles and Ellie sways with her.

Ellie doesn’t look at him, doesn’t say anything at all.

Her face is sharper, the last of childhood roundness lost. She’s taller, thinner. She should eat more, and he’s glad she’s there for dinner. He’s glad she’s there at all. But he doesn't know how to say any of that.

“Howdy,” he settles for, hooking one thumb into his belt.

She looks slowly up, and nods. Her face goes tense as soon as she meets his eyes.

It’s better than looking like she might flee.

Neither of them say anything else and the air goes stiff with unspoken words, with the unresolved, unsaid past.

“Joel,” you touch his arm and smile softly at him when he looks at you. “Would you set the table, please?”

“Sure,” he agrees, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

You lean in and kiss his jaw. “Thank you.”

Setting the table gives him something to do. He goes back into the dining room with a stack of plates and cutlery, placemats rolled neatly on top of the pile. He drapes the strawberries over the back of one of the chairs.

When he unrolls the placemats, he huffs under his breath.

They’re fashioned from spare bolts of cloth, the stitching neat and even. Embroidered around the edges are little bats. Bats with cartoonish looking twin white fangs. You can’t stitch to save your life, so he knows you must have traded for them.

Or, more likely, someone gifted them to you, to Evie. Jackson as a whole adored Evie, adored her odd little quirks.

It grates on him sometimes, because it feels like a claim over his kid; and she’s not theirs, she’s his, she’s yours and Ellie’s.

But it must be some kind of miracle that Evie would grow up with such love from so many people, so he lets it go and lets it be.

Someone had once said to him, of her monster obsession, wait ‘til she sees one of the infected. She’ll probably fall in love.

It had been a joke, one he did not laugh at, one that made you tighten your hand on his forearm. But your teeth had been gritted too, your anger shimmering hot.

If Joel had it his way, Evie would never see one of those damn things. She’d never even need to know they existed.

Teaching Ellie how to navigate the world had been hard enough, had taken a toll he hadn’t expected. Teaching Eva one day would probably be the final nail in his coffin, the thing that made his heart squeeze just a little too tight.

A tiny body collides with his leg as he finishes setting out the bat laden placemats. “C’mere, you,” he lifts his baby into his arms and settles into one of the chairs.

She’s getting too big for him to carry, but he’ll do it as long as he can. The soft smell of her floats up, unlocks memories that still smart. “Look a’ that,” he points to the bats and gets a laugh in return, a little hand squishing the fabric up so she can drag it towards herself.

“Bats,” she says and tips her head back against his shoulder, the crown of her head nestled just below his chin.

The music spins on in the kitchen, accompanied now by the hiss of cooking, the light sound of chatter. You must say something funny, because Ellie suddenly bursts out in a laugh he hasn’t heard in so long it makes his chest clench.

“Mm,” Joel hums and straightens out the mat again. “Just for you, probably. Everybody in town knows how much you like bats.”

Eva just watches him, warm, soft hand landing on his cheek again, as it so often does.

Those big, knowing eyes are watching him. He cups one hand against the side of her head and leans down to kiss her forehead. “You gonna help?”

He sets her back down onto the floor, doles out the forks one at a time so she can bop around the table to each chair and lie it next to the plate. She doesn’t run, holds it just the way he’d told her to as he follows dutifully behind her. Just in case. “My smart girl,” he says when she’s finished with the last one and he’s set out the knives himself. “Gettin’ so big.”

Sometimes, when he looks at her, he sees vestiges of Sarah in her features. He blinks and it's gone and he tries to tell himself that there are no similarities between this girl and that one.

But there are. Of course, there are. They’re sisters, even if they’ll never meet. There are parts of Sarah in Eva, because there are parts of him in each of them, even if he doesn’t like to admit that.

“Daddy?”

“Evie?”

She giggles when he says her name. She’s in his arms again, warm and heavy. He can feel the hummingbird beat of her heart against his.

“Why don’t you like Ellie?” Each word is carefully said, the syllables wobbling around on her tongue. His smart girl, he thinks again. Too smart, too perceptive. Just like Ellie; no secrets, no lies.

She would be four in just a few short months.

Four. It’s not a big enough number; it’s too big of a number. He blinked and his baby was gone.

It’s how it always happens. Blink and they’re gone.

Something heavy drops into Joel’s chest. “I do,” he answers gruffly. Big eyes meet his, patiently waiting for more. The tilt of her brows, the pull of her little mouth, is all you. “I do,” he repeats. He wants to say he loves her, but he doesn’t.

She nods, so serious. “Me too,” she agrees, like she’s glad the matter has been cleared up.

When you all sit down to eat, Evie insists on sitting with Ellie. Joel tells her she doesn’t have to let her, and Ellie sharply says that it’s okay, it’s fine, they do it all the time.

He didn’t know that, so he just nods and says, “Okay.”

Mostly he listens to you and Ellie talk. You volley questions and chatter back and forth so naturally. He keeps quiet, because there’s something thick lodged in the back of his throat, because Ellie probably doesn’t want to hear anything he has to say anyhow, because she won’t want to answer any questions he might have.

Because he feels like he’s already too late.

But you ask a lot of the questions he would have, and Ellie pretends like she doesn’t know what you’re doing and answers them always, and that’s something at least. She talks a lot about patrol and a little about Dina, cheeks going pink when she does. She seems like she’s doing good, without him, and that’s all he can really ask for.

Ellie clears the plates away and laughs, just like he did, at the bats embroidered beneath. You produce something that passes for dessert, preserved strawberries from a jar in the cabinet, cream poured over top.

Evie falls asleep against Ellie and you take her gently into your arms.

And then it’s over, and it feels like no time has passed.

“Joel?” you say when Ellie is pulling on her coat. He looks at you and Ellie does too. “Why don’t you walk Ellie out?” You nod down at the sleeping toddler against your chest. “Please?”

“I don’t need - he doesn’t have to—”

“Joel?” You say over Ellie’s protest.

“‘Course.”

He walks Ellie to the front door, watches her pull on her shoes in record time, and then steps out onto the frostbitten porch with her. “Thanks for coming,” he says softly. “I appreciate it.”

She looks uncomfortable, hands balled inside her jacket. “I didn’t come for you.”

“I know you didn’t.” The yard glows in the dark, bright and spidery white. His breath clouds the air. “And I know you don’t wanna hear it. But I’m, uh, proud of you. Everyone says you’re doin’ real good.”

She looks like she might say something, mouth twisted down, brows pinched together. But she doesn’t. She keeps it inside and only nods.

“It was good,” he says after a moment when she doesn’t immediately bolt down the front steps, watching her from the corner of his eyes.

The tension between them eases just a little. “It was okay, old man,” she says and then seems to realize she slipped just a little. “See you around.”

“Yep,” he answers, but she’s already gone, down the steps, leaving footprints behind in his glittering front yard.

They haven’t talked about anything. But it’s something. It’s a little start.

You’re just leaving Eva’s room when he comes up the stairs. You carefully leave the door cracked, fingers of her night light reaching out into the dark hall.

He doesn’t realize he might be crying until you’re tucking your arms around him and making a gentle shushing sound. “It’s all right,” you whisper, arms curling around his shoulders. “C’mon. She’s still here. She wants to try.”

“I know.” His voice cracks right down the middle and he clears his throat before attempting the words again. “I know.”

“Okay,” you tug at his hair and pull back to look at him. “Let’s go to bed.”

But he's failing again. He's reaching for something he can't quite grasp, can't quite get to stick and stay and keep safe.

His heart beats hard, squeezes tight, like a cold fist has curled sharp nails into each pulse.

Too late, too late, too late, it says.

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #clouds fic

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sister-cna-reader · 1 year

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DC x DP

“Do you know anyone willing to date a ghost-touched woman over 6ft tall?”

Barbara Gordon blinked slowly at the lanky teenager who asked the question. His arms were full of astronomy books and he was leaning in close as if it was a serious question.

“It depends? I’m a librarian, not a matchmaker.” she replied, holding her hands out for the books to scan. “Why are you asking? It’s an awfully specific criteria.”

Daniel Nightingale was the name of the boy before her. Just registered in the library system a little under 3 months ago. 17 years old and with that black hair, sky blue eyes and scars on the hand partially covered by a fingerless glove- Wayne adoption bait.

“My older sister is great and all.” he said, fidgeting with his sleeves, “But I think she needs to live a little you know? She’s so.. So….” he made a compressing motion with his hands, like packing a snowball.

“Repressed?” Barbara suggested, scanning the book on the Hubble Telescope.

With a snap of his fingers he grinned. “Exactly! Now if only I could find a guy for her that is ghost-touched…” he muttered under his breath.

“What do you mean by ‘ghost- touched’?”

“Oh you know,” he mimicked the paddles of a defibrillator, “Clear!” he chuckled.

Did this lady have a heart attack? Heart problems?

“I died but it didn’t stick, so someone who is like me would be good. Then we wouldn’t have to explain the whole thing.”

“Oh, I see.” the redhead said, not understanding much at all. “Due date for the books is in one month. I’ll keep an eye out for your sister?”

Danny nodded and gathered all the books into a beat up backpack. “You can’t miss her. Long red hair, super tall, looks like she’ll either have a nervous breakdown or murder someone if you bump into her.”

Barbara could only nod in agreement to the boy as he seemed to float out of Gotham Public Library.

Jazz was ready to shove her little not-quite-dead brother into the Fenton Thermos. She was doing well at her counseling position at the University, but Danny had insisted that her newfound hours of free time should be used in romantic pursuits.

“If you had friends you hung out with I won’t pester you. But Jazz! You need to do something fun!” He had said from the kitchen counter, hair glowing and eyes like two green beacons. “Live a little! We’re already part dead! Let go!”

So she trudged her way to the Public Library. If she had to get out of the house to shut her brother up, she’d at least be an introvert about it.

Jazz put on her best pleasant face and made her way to the librarian’s desk to get registered.

The woman behind the counter was like looking into a warped mirror. Glasses, hair just a shade brighter, and eyes the wrong color looked back at her in mirrored surprise.

“Bad hair day?” the mirror image guessed, pointing at the slouchy hat and messy bun that contained the mass of copper hair that Jazz hadn’t cut in the last year.

“Uh yeah. Little brother was pestering me about going out, so I’m here for a library card.” Jazz rambled, doing her best to not play with the strap of her purse.

“I’m Barbara, and welcome to Gotham Public Library!” The woman smiled warmly.

When Jazz handed over her ID for Barbara to input the required information in the database the lady smirked. “I met your brother a few days ago actually. Tall, scrawny, likes space?”

Jazz groaned. “I’m so sorry about him.”

The librarian’s glasses were white from the monitor. “Oh don’t worry about it, I know how younger siblings are. They mean well, they’re just annoying about it.”

Card squared away, Jazz went in search of a quiet corner to read a trashy romance novel in.

Jason took his rare day off to visit the Library. He was also going to drop off a coffee for Barbara, and maybe sweet talk some info out of her.

He needed some blackmail to lord over some birds.

“Jason! How good to see you in the daylight! Oh! Coffee! Gimmie,” his favorite tech person greeted.

Coffee offering made, Jason and Barbara traded information.

“You should take a load off.” She suggested, waving him away towards the adult fiction shelves as some patrons came to check out. “See you at dinner Sunday!”

The building was warm today, rare sunlight coming through the skylights and windows, making his leather jacket too hot to wear indoors. And there was nothing else pressing on his schedule today, so why not read a bit?

Austen novel in hand, Jason made his way to his favorite reading nook. Instead of the two empty armchairs he’d push together into a lounge, there was a woman already there, firmly in the ray of sun that made her red hair look like fire.

Her long legs were stretched out, boots cluncking together in a slow rhythm as she read.

“Oh,”

Bright green eyes startled and looked at him dead in the eyes. He blinked, and they were no longer green but a calming ocean blue.

“Sorry,” she said, folding her legs back to let him pass.

“Nah, it’s okay, I kind of want to soak in some sun too. Mind sharing?” Jason offered, fully prepared to leave the tall amazon alone. But deep down he felt something warm and grow fuzzy.

“Sure,” she scooted her chair over and pulled the other closer so they both shared the spot of sun. “I’m Jazz.”

He sat down next to her and the scent of her shampoo reminded him of the herby bread that Alfred made with soup. She stretched out again and he realized that her legs were much longer then his.

“I’m Jason.”

Inside the pit barely rippled.

Her phone beeped and she opened the beat-up thing to scoff. “Danny for Ancient’s sake,” she typed something out only for another beep to immediately reply.

Jason frowned. “Danny your boyfriend?”

Blue eyes met him in an exasperated roll. “No. He's just a little brother who can’t mind his own business. Now he wants a selfie to prove ‘I’m not alone being a cave troll.’ Just a sec.”

She started to angle away to send a picture of her flipping off the phone, but Jason pulled her closer and let his arm be visible around her shoulders in the selfie. He hadn’t thought, just acted.

There was a surprising amount of muscle under that sweater.

The pit purred in pleasure and Jason wanted to melt into the floor.

Jazz giggled, her smile showing teeth that were just a little too sharp. “Oh he’ll be happy with this I think. Only thing that would be better is if you had a big black motorcycle. That’d send him through the roof.”

His breath hitched. The sun must’ve been too hot, and he felt himself grow warm under that bright smile.

“Would a black and red motorcycle do?” Was this flirting? Was he flirting? Was it working? He hoped it was working.

Those eyes lit up again and she tossed the book onto the chair, towering over him. “That’s perfect. He hates the idea of me on a motorcycle with a biker boyfriend.”

Jason stood up and tossed his jacket to Jazz with a feral smile. “Let’s get you some pictures riding a motorcycle my lady.”

The pit crowed in happiness, a rare thing when not caused by blood or murder. He made sure to get a few pictures of her on his bike with his own phone before remembering it should really be on Jazz’s phone, to send to Jazz’s brother.

Not wanting the fun time to end, he put his helmet in her hands. “I know a good burger joint. Want to stay out late? See some sights?”

He was so focused on the redhead woman in his leather jacket straddling his bike, he forgot about the other redhead with access to the security cameras.

#dp x dc prompt #anger manegment #jason todd #jasmine fenton #Jason/Jazz #danny phantom #Liminal Jazz #if I write more it'll go up on Ao3

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convito · 2 months

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Blasting Off To The Past: Chapter 1: The Customers Are Used To This By Now

Finished chapter 1 of my fanfic based on @yamujiburo's Jessie/Delia Pokemon comics. The fact that it's just the first chapter is a development that materialized roughly 5 minutes ago when I realized this thing is getting way too long to write all at once. It's just a fun little day-in-the-life story because I wanted an excuse to write these characters.

Here's the AO3 link.

Below is the full chapter text. Enjoy!

“Meowth, I demand to know why you just kicked me!” James yelled dramatically.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I wouldn’t waste my time kicking you!” Meowth

The lunch rush took its toll on everyone in different ways. For Delia, the strain kept her too busy to notice anything outside the restaurant. For Jessie, it meant Delia wasn’t looking at her.

In the case of James and Meowth, it was dealer’s choice. Today, that meant each blaming the other for the table leg they each routinely tripped over. Meowth’s thimble-sized temper had reached a boiling point. James was mad by association.

Delia had been holding down the kitchen until the commotion piqued her attention, prompting a peek around the corner into the dining area. She saw Meowth seething as his serving tray clattered to the ground, trading leers with James whose serving tray remained pristinely perched atop his fingers.

Then time stood still as she saw Jessie burst in with a face that gave her conflicting feelings, making a Beedrill-line for the bickering duo. How she heard the noise from across town would remain a mystery. The love of Delia’s life was a lit fuse heading straight for a flamboyantly colored powder keg. The focus now needed to be heading off the stormfront before it turned the restaurant into a restauNOT (she took a second to chuckle at that).

“Jessie. Babe. Sweetie.”

The red menace continued undeterred. Delia raised her voice.

“Jessie, stop! Jessie! Honey!”

Still nothing. Delia was desperate.

“STOP, DAMMIT!”

Jessie screeched to a halt, bringing the universe with her. She and her two partners in something or other all turned their heads toward Delia, three identical faces of exaggerated shock. Though Jessie’s sported a tinge of crimson.

“I… buh…�� she attempted.

“Delia made a swear,” Meowth whispered.

James simply covered his ears.

But whether through shock or sheer force of Delia’s long-bided power, the situation was defused for now. The residual fallout kept things together until the restaurant finally slowed down. James and Meowth lost their abrasion around each other, more or less back to their regular selves give or take the occasional shared look towards Delia. Granted, not unlike their usual behavior.

Jessie, meanwhile, had stuck around to help however she could. At the moment, she was employing her puppy dog eye technique to try and soften Delia’s mood every time her wife looked her way. Despite coming across more like bewildered Magikarp eyes, which had Delia desperately suppressing a snort laugh at every turn, it probably would have worked even if she actually had been angry.

Eventually, closing time arrived. Jessie had finally released Delia from her fishy look and was taking a break from cleaning to watch James and Meowth. The other two former Rockets were Taurosing around with each other as they took the garbage out back. Delia noticed a wistful look in her wife’s eye. It was one she’d been seeing a lot of lately.

“You miss the adventure, don’t you?” Delia asked warmly.

Jessie gave a slight start at this before nodding. They’d grown to know each other well enough that it was no surprise Delia could read her so intimately.

“I know we weren’t the good guys going after the twe- eh, Ash and Pikachu like that,” Jessie seemed just a bit embarrassed, “but getting out there and traveling around really got my juices moving.”

“Even more than our little battling vacations?”

“W-well, I wouldn’t say…” Jessie hesitated, but she knew she never needed to hide anything from Delia, especially after all this time. “Kinda, yeah.”

Jessie’s regular trips out into the region with Delia to explore and battle gym leaders had very quickly begun to rank among the highlights of her life, and she wouldn’t trade them for anything, no matter how shiny. But…

“I just miss the camaraderie with James and Meowth,” she found herself gushing. “I miss the cartoon-level plans we came up with together, I miss the big Meowth balloon, I miss James’ camp cooking and Meowth’s snoring, not to mention-”

“I’m sorry, what was that about Meowth?”

“Oh, right, you never heard his outdoor snoring. Only happens when he’s camping. Real conker of a wavelength he could belch out, which you wouldn’t expect from a little fart like him. I think he developed it as a defense to make predators think a Snorlax is sleeping nearby or someth-”

“What?” Delia had trouble getting a word in edgewise sometimes, a trait of their relationship she oddly treasured. She liked seeing Jessie excited. “No, why would I ask to hear about…? Never mind, I meant the balloon thing.”

“Ok, yeah, that makes more sense,” Jessie admitted. “It was a thing of genuine beauty. A huge hot air balloon in the shape of Meowth. We even used official Team Rocket funds to commission it. They seemed cool with it.”

“I’d like to point out that they did very much fire you.”

“Oh yeah,” Jessie said with a guttural giggle. “Wow, things are definitely starting to make some more sense now that I say them out loud. But anyway, we used to go everywhere in that balloon. It was our own little home where we never had to deal with property tax. We’d sleep up there, have some fun by spitting off the sides, do… other things off the sides…”

“Honey, I love you but oh my god.”

“Hey, if you can think of other ways to handle being up in the air for days at a time…” Jessie’s old smug nature crept in, which she caught before going any further. “Th-the point is I just miss the balloon. It was sort of a symbol of that complete freedom we used to have. Nothing tying us down, literally. No rules. No responsibilities. No bosses or authori-” she paused, her expression that of a system reboot. “How did we not get fired sooner?”

“I didn’t realize how much you thought about that time,” Delia started to feel just a touch of guilt. Or was it jealousy?

“Not 'all the time' or anything. Some things just remind me of that past life. Like how James and Meowth have been sniping at each other a lot lately,” Jessie said with a look of dawning realization. “They must be feeling homesick too. Or, I mean ‘homesick’ I guess,” she made some halfhearted quotes with her fingers. A glance over at Delia dropped the fingers immediately as Jessie read her wife’s expression, as subtle as it was.

Jessie wordlessly walked over to Delia, not rushing, not holding back, simply going. She took her hands in her own and clasped them.

“I am happier now than I’ve ever been,” Jessie answered a wordless question. There was no need to explore the topic further. This is the most she’d talked about the old days since, she realized, that awkward time when she, James, and Meowth had shown up on Delia’s doorstep completely out of options. It was enough that she got it out.

Delia just smiled. It was a genuine smile, but one that obscured hidden depths. Depths that ironically flew right over Jessie’s head.

Once they finished closing, Jessie and Delia stepped out of the restaurant hand in hand, following James and Meowth who had apparently regained their passion for griping. Jessie paid little attention as they fired quips back and forth, sounding to her like synthesized speech from a Nintendo 64 game. She was content where she was, blissfully strolling home with the love of her life. No thoughts, just vibes.

If she’d only opened her eyes, she’d have seen the poorly-hidden look of sneaky determination emblazoned on Delia’s face.

-the next morning-

“Ash!” Delia burst into her son’s room. “We’re making a balloon!”

#hanamusa #pokemon #pokémon #delia ketchum #jessie team rocket #fanfic #i don't write stories #i only write banter #if a story materializes then it's by accident i assure you

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16bruises · 9 months

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Cherished

word count: 1.4k Final part of Parasocial and Mind’s Eye

Some people are dealt a losing hand by the universe

“I'd trade all my tomorrows for one single yesterday.”

-Kris Kristofferson

(Y/n) was aware something was wrong. But, she wasn’t confrontational enough to bring it up. I won’t say anything unless she decides to bring it up first.

It may take time but… soon she’ll just accept me as her Miguel.

I’m her Miguel now.

And she is mine.

—

It took time. A long long time.

But she accepted me as I am now.

It took 3 months. 3 long months for (Y/n) to stop acting like I was a stranger.

The first month after she realized something was wrong- she wouldn’t let me put Gabriella to bed, she wouldn’t kiss me back, wouldn’t let me hold her close at night.

It hurt. It was hard. I hated every second of it. But I pretended to not notice.

I pretended so well that by the second month, (Y/n) let me put Gabriella to bed again. She let me hold her at night, but not as close as she used to.

Everything got better by the third month. She finally loved me. She kissed me, she let me take care of Gabriella, and she let me hold her close at night.

She loved me. Not the variant of me. She loved me now.

—

Life with (Y/n) and Gabriella was so beautiful. Every day was perfect, I would go to sleep at night so excited for the next day.

I adored (Y/n) and Gabriella with every fiber of my being. I loved them so much that it made my chest hurt.

I got to be there for my beautiful family, for everything.

I got to hear my beautiful Gabriella speak her first word, a giggly “papa” while I was trying to feed her.

I got to see Gabriella successfully take her first few steps and make it into (Y/n)’s arms without falling.

I got to see (Y/n) when I woke up every morning and before I fell asleep every night…

But I should’ve known and I should’ve remembered- I’m cosmically cursed to suffer in every universe.

—

I had been in that universe for a little over a year when it happened.

The day started as perfect and beautiful as each day prior had been.

I woke up before (Y/n), and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. I got up to check on Gabriela before getting back into bed, laying beside (Y/n) until she woke up.

When she woke up she leaned up and lazily kissed me. I could feel her smile into the kiss. I maneuvered her on top of me, having her straddle my lap, as we lazily made out.

The make-out session was cut short by the high pitched cries of our little Gabriella.

I went to take care of Gabriella and (Y/n) went to the bathroom to take a quick shower before breakfast.

My sweet Gabriella had picked up a few more words since she began speaking, mostly short words that she would say loudly.

As I entered her room that morning she was excitedly chanting for (Y/n) while reaching for me

“Mama! Mama! Mama!”

“No Mija- it’s Papa today”

Gabriella giggled and stretched her tiny hands out toward me until I picked her up.

I carried her to the dining room where I sat her down in her high chair. She continued to chant for (Y/n) as I made breakfast.

When (Y/n) entered the kitchen, her hair still wet from her shower, she kissed my cheek.

(Y/n) walked toward Gabriella, who was now excitedly clapping as her mama was finally there.

“What is it my baby?”

You tickled Gabriella and kissed all over her face, causing her to giggle.

I smiled at the sound and glanced back.

The rest of that morning was like that, happy. Happy and perfectly domestic. Completely perfect, everything I’d ever wanted.

Gabriella wanted to go to the park after breakfast and so I told (Y/n) that I could take care of cleaning up the dishes if she got Gabriella ready to go.

Once we were at the park Gabriella went straight for the swings, she loved when I would push her on the baby swing.

The park would always tire Gabriella out fast though so we only stayed for about 15-20 minutes before she got too sleepy to keep playing.

When we got back home Gabriella was fast asleep in my arms, I put her down for her nap.

—

2 hours later, Gabriella was still sleeping.

(Y/n) turned to me and said she wanted to run to the grocery store before Gabriella woke up.

I shouldn’t have let her go.

But I did.

She left to get groceries while Gabriella was napping.

A task that should only take 30 minutes.

I felt a heavy panic settle into my chest after it had been 35 minutes. I told myself that the store might’ve been busy and tried to call her.

When she didn’t answer the panic got worse.

She always answered my calls.

I knew something was very wrong.

I tried to call her 7 more times but she didn’t answer any of them.

I began hyperventilating, I couldn’t stop the panic.

I checked on Gabriella, seeing she was still sleeping I called for Lyla. I told Lyla to watch over Gabriella while I went to Earth 2099 for a few minutes.

I stumbled through the portal I opened, arriving in my office I sped to my platform. I frantically typed on the keypad and swiped through the screens until I reached the answer.

Where (Y/n) was.

Why she wasn’t answering my calls.

She was gone.

(Y/n) was gone.

I couldn’t breathe.

My eyes wouldn’t focus and I felt dizzy.

I stared at (Y/n)’s body through the screen.

She was so still.

I opened a portal back to that once perfect universe and reentered that world.

There was a pounding in my head as I rushed to Gabriella’s room.

I told Lyla that I needed her to watch over Gabriella for a little longer.

—

It wasn’t hard to figure out where (Y/n) was. There were loud ambulance sirens, too many people, and the flashing lights of police cars.

I had to prove I knew her.

I had to identify her.

I had to ride with her body to the hospital just to be told what I already knew.

The whole process took hours.

Lyla contacted me to let me know that Gabriella had woken up as I was on my way back home. I let her know I’d be back soon.

When I did get back home, Gabriella was crying. She was crying for her mama.

It hurt. It all hurt. It all hurt too much.

It took everything in me not to cry. I couldn’t cry, I had to calm down Gabriella. If I cried she’d cry harder.

Once I calmed her down, I brought her to the kitchen to feed her some dinner.

The motions all too familiar. Too similar to that perfect morning.

As I fed her, Lyla spoke up hesitantly.

“Miguel… (Y/n) dying here was a canon event. There was nothing you or anyone could’ve done.”

I couldn’t tell if she was trying to be comforting but her words made me feel worse.

“(Y/n) wasn’t a canon event. My variant was.”

My voice was harsh and as I spoke I could see Lyla begin to glow an angry, staticky red.

“No Miguel. The Canon here is that Gabriella O'Hara loses a parent. Your variant should have fulfilled that but you took his place. With you here (Y/n) had to go.”

I caused this?

“That’s not possible. The Miguel O'hara of this earth wasn’t dead.”

“He would’ve died if you hadn’t moved his body. You moved his body just enough that he was able to survive.”

Lyla disappeared after that. Leaving me with this universe’s canon.

I wasn’t cursed in every universe. Not in this one. The Miguel that belonged to this universe got to live a happy life until I stole it.

It hurt. That knowledge. That one of me was happy somewhere, and I destroyed it.

I looked down at Gabriella.

I can’t leave her now. I can’t run away. Not after I’ve taken so much from her.

I held Gabriella to my chest and promised to take care of her, to be the best father to her I could.

—

The pain of losing (Y/n) never went away. It only got worse when I lost Gabriella.

Gabby had grown so much, (Y/n) would’ve been so proud of our beautiful girl.

(Y/n) would’ve been so proud of our baby’s passion for sports. She would’ve been so excited for each of Gabriella’s soccer games, she would’ve been so proud of the girl Gabriella grew into.

Gabriella was with her mama now though. Safe and loved.

I can’t pretend I’m not jealous.

But, I have responsibilities that must be fulfilled. The sins I have committed can only be repaid by a lifetime of suffering and doing what is necessary.

I can’t leave. I can’t run away. I can’t let myself die. I can’t be with my (Y/n) and Gabriella until it is my time to go.

I can’t try to alter it. Who knows who I could hurt doing that.

All I have left of them now are videos and photos.

Watching videos from when I still had them is very reminiscent of when this all started.

When I would watch (Y/n) and …her Miguel through the same screen I watch the videos on now.

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daddyy333 · 10 months

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In love | Chris Evans x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 0.6k

warnings: Chris is literally the biggest simp ever it’s gross

summary: Chris always loves to gush about his wife any chance he gets

“So, Mr. Evans I heard you got married recently,” the interviewer said and Chris blushed just thinking about you. He chuckled and said “I did, I did. Best decision of my life, I wish I could do it all over again”

He looked over subtly, watching as you posed for pictures on the red carpet. He was so damn lucky. “You kept a secret for quite some time I heard, you announced your relationship by posting a picture from your wedding day, correct?” The interviewer asked and Chris couldn’t help the smile and blush on his face.

“Yup. My favorite picture I’ll ever have, our first kiss as a married couple. We’ve been together 5 years and got married on your 5 years anniversary” he said and the interviewer nodded. She laughed a little and said “that’s beautiful, when did you propose?”

“New years. Told her I wanted to spend every new years with her and then got down on one knee. 2nd scariest day of my life, I was so scared she’d run away the day we got married. You know me, I’m an old man now and she could do so much better” he said and chuckled.

The interviewer scoffed and said “I’m sure there’s many people out there who’d disagree with that. You two seem perfect for each other, what’s your married life been like?”

“Nothing shy of perfection. I get to wake up next to the most perfect woman in the world and I get to love her every single day. The best part is that she loves me too. I wouldn’t trade her for the world” Chris said, looking over at you. You looked so damn beautiful, the sun shining on you and your beautiful eyes popping from the color of your dress.

“I’m the luckiest man alive to tell you the truth,” Chris said and licked his lips, his heart fluttering just remembering how amazing his life has been with you in it. The interviewer chuckled and said “must’ve been hard keeping this a secret for so long. You’re blushing so hard you match the carpet,”

He looked down nervously, laughing. He sighed and said “Any man would be if he got the chance to love her and be loved by her. I’ve wanted to scream it from the rooftops since the moment I laid eyes on her” he said and you suddenly walked over, hugging him from behind.

His eyes widened and he turned around, smiling wider. “Hey, lover. You look stunning tonight, babe, you have no idea,” he said, kissing you softly. You giggled and nugged him. “Finish your interview, Chris” you said and he shook his head.

“You two are just made for each other it seems. He’s been practically buzzing with joy since I mentioned you,” the interviewer told you and you rolled your eyes, blushing slightly. You sighed and said “gosh, he’s so annoying, isn’t he? I don’t know how I tolerate him sometimes,”

You giggled, looking up at him. He shook his head and said “yea, yea, yea. I wouldn’t trade you for the damn universe and yet you’d probably trade me in a New York minute” “oh that is so not true!” You said and slapped his chest playfully, all three of you laughing.

You smiled and kissed his cheek, then realizing that you were being called for your own interviews. “I’ll meet up with you when I’m done, try not to miss me too much” you said and caressing his hand for a moment before you left.

“Alright, well let’s talk about the new movie you two are in together…”

Taglist: @kandis-mom

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes

CW!Bucky Barnes

Chris Evans

Steve Rogers

Ari Levinson

Geralt of Rivia

Henry Cavill

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

#chris evans #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans fluff

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daisyychainssj · 7 months

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Something about foolish and bad being two immortal beings who’ve had skewed morals since the beginning of their time on the island. One being able to hide it pretty well and the other always open about the fact that he sees actions and consequences differently. Everyone knows foolish is open to playing multiple sides and doesn’t really grasp the repercussions of certain things like mortals do (he didn’t really understand why people reacted the way they did to him arresting Pac e Mike) he’s always been pretty open about the fact that the only people he cares about being hurt, either directly or indirectly, by what he does is Leo and Vegetta. Then you have bad who is pretty much universally trusted on the island, it’s bbh like yeah sure he pulls silly pranks and stuff but he’d never really hurt them, right? BBH and Foolish are so similar in so many ways. At the end of the day the only people that bad has trusted without a shadow of a doubt is dapper and Pomme, he would die for his kids in a heartbeat. He also does not care if others have to die for them either and I don’t think anyone but Foolish really knows or understands that about him. Pomme and Dapper were in a certain sense, bad’s moral compass. He wouldn’t allow himself or others to do certain things because it could hurt them. Mines? Absolutely not, are you crazy that could kill an egg? The eggs are gone? Bad is blowing everyone and everything up. Leaving boxes with invisible and strong magmas that can pretty much two shot you, what if one of the eggs was to open them? No way, he could never? No eggs around? Everyone gets a killer magma cube whilst he laughs at seeing people downed by them repeatedly. Here’s the thing, bad and foolish obviously love and care for people on the island but I just don’t think they truly grasp it the way everyone else does, the only time they’ve come close is when they’ve loved something that was fragile. They’re kids. It gave them a taste of mortality and so they had to change. Now that they’ve had that love and lost it? I truly don’t think they give a fuck about the consequences of their actions anymore. Foolish literally asked bad last night “Does your family trump all other families?” And after bad told foolish that he was in his family (because they can understand eachother in a way no one else can and I think that brings a lot of comfort) he replied “to answer your question by the way, yeah I think it does” like bad is just openly admitting he will do ANYTHING to get dapper and Pomme back and it doesn’t matter to him what it costs and who gets in the way. I really think that if this does lead to BBH capturing Fred for info no matter how devastated tubbo is BBH Will. Not. Care. Fred is just another obstacle he has to get through to get his family back. And foolish understands that and is encouraging him to do so. Foolish understand because that’s the exact way he operates too. Tina said she would’ve died for Leo and Foolish immediate reaction was to be like “just to be clear I would take you up on that offer and trade your life for hers” and just the other day when Bad was being his usual self and saying he wanted to live at Foolish’s place and the moment he started messing with Leo’s room foolish lost his mind, wanted to arrest bad for even daring to touch such a sacred place and when asked about what the order would think he said if they didn’t understand how serious it was that bad tried to mess with Leo’s room that he Did. Not. Give. A. Fuck. I just think they’re both very willing to be ruthless no matter the consequence and the only person who really understands that is each other.

Q!LANDUO YOU’RE SO FASCINATING TO ME I WANT TO PUT YOU BOTH IN LITTLE TEST TUBES AND STUDY YOU

#qsmp #qsmp vodblogging #qsmp rambling

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mydarlingdahlia · 10 months

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I want someone to write fanfiction of me and my gf

Like deadass

Could be smut, fluff, angst, I don’t care

Y’all are more talented than me so- 🥲

-C

#charlotte rambles #I love my gf <3 #wouldn’t trade her for the universe

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deancasbigbang · 8 months

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Title: Love Brewing

Author: allthismusic

Artist: Reverie

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, referenced past Dean/Lisa, referenced Charlie/OFC

Length: 20000

Warnings: n/a

Tags: Best friend to lovers; domestic fluff; alternate universe; pining; a cat named Elle Woods

Posting Date: October 3, 2023

Summary: Dean and Cas have been best friends for years. And sure, Dean had asked Cas out when they’d first met, but in the years after Cas had turned him down, Dean has come to realize that he wouldn’t trade their friendship for anything (even if he does still think about kissing Cas sometimes). Anyway, between running his bar and preparing for a homebrewing competition that he hopes will help make his dreams of turning his brewing hobby from amateur to pro, he doesn’t really have time for romance. But is there more brewing between Dean and Cas than just a couple of extra-hoppy IPAs? Or is it only Charlie who thinks so?

Excerpt: “I started brewing a couple years ago,” Dean explains. He kneels down to pull out the keg a little bit so Charlie can take a look. “Sam — my brother — said I was spending too much time here and convinced me I needed a hobby. I don’t have a license to sell it, not yet at least, but some of the regulars like to try it.” “Some of the regulars allow themselves to be the guinea pigs for your mad scientist experiments,” someone corrects dryly from above him. Dean stands back up, although he doesn’t need to make eye contact to recognize the owner of the voice. “Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. “Hey, Cas,” Dean says, filling another tasting glass and handing it to him. Cas raises the glass to his face and sniffs it before taking a small sip. He nods. “It’s good.” “But?” Dean probes. Castiel thinks for a moment and then shakes his head. “No, it’s good,” he answers. “It just tastes a little… early?” “Ah,” Dean says, relieved. “Yeah, it is. Probably needs another week or so, but Charlie asked — this is Charlie, by the way,” he interrupts himself, gesturing to his new bartender. “Hello,” Cas says, and Charlie gives him a wave. Cas orders a beer, and before he goes over to a table by the window, says, “You still haven’t chosen a movie for tomorrow, Dean.” “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get back to you,” Dean says, “Or we can just watch Tombstone again.” He thinks he catches Cas rolling his eyes as he turns away from the bar. “Ooh, date night?” Charlie asks. “Ha,” Dean says, halfway between a word and a cough. “Cas is just a friend.” Charlie replies, “Do you want to try that again and see if you can make it sound believable this time?” Dean indulges her. “Cas is just a friend with some large gaps in his pop culture knowledge.” “Uh-huh,” Charlie says. “I’ve read that one in the playbook before. You fill some of his gaps, he fills some of yours—” “You wanna get fired on your first day?” Dean asks her. Charlie holds up her hands in surrender. “Sorry, boss,” she says. She turns away to serve a customer a gin and tonic and then glances over to where Cas has ensconced himself in one of the booths that line the side of the bar and set a notebook and bulging file folder on the table next to his beer. “Really though, nothing?” She asks, looking back at Dean. “Even I can see he’s gorgeous.” Dean can’t help but chuckle at that, even as he rolls his eyes. This time it’s his turn to look at Cas. The sun is setting outside and a few rays are shining through the window of the bar, catching Cas across the face as he looks down at his research. He must stare for a moment too long because Charlie makes a “hmm,” noise that can only be described as ‘knowing.’

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2023 #fic preview #2023 promo #deancas #destiel

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newpercyjfan · 4 months

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“I plunge to my death” Percy Jackson Au

Ok first, if you somehow came up with this exact thing already, i wouldn’t know, I don’t even follow the Percy Jackson tag yet, but just tell me and I’ll take it down or tag it as an alt universe of your au and credit it, but I have like three other ones I’ll be posting so we’ll see.

- This au is connected to both the tv show and the book because I like what both did in terms of the arch episode.

- This mostly goes how the tv show episode goes, Percy gets poisoned, they get to the top of the arch, he sacrifices himself. But this time, he does pray to his dad as he falls over 100 ft to his death.

- His dad doesn’t answer. He’s the one who somehow last second, controls the water to save himself. He sinks to the bottom of the lake and gets stuck. He feels the poison and his wounds get slightly better.

-In this au, the nereid doesn’t actually help him get out of the water, because in this version it’s inspired by how in the books, when he left the water the wounds came back. If he leaves the lake, he could die.

- So he stays stuck there for almost three days while the nereids bring him seaweed and shit to eat, but eventually he gets sick of it.

- he learns that Poseidon didn’t really want him to leave, at least not yet, mainly because he knew if he left he would continue to be chased by monsters or die in some way and believed a war would come either way. Basically, if the Poseidon that said “heroes always end badly, I regret getting your mom pregnant” actually did something about it

- but of course, he can’t keep Perseus ‘I don’t listen to anybody but myself’ Jackson down in a lake without him going a lil crazy and he breaks the root holding him down and swims to shore, but the poison instantly kicks back in, and gets back in the water

- his father gifts him a hydrai (a large vase/urn basically that carry’s water) that holds basically a portal to the ocean in it. GUYS LISTEN, I HEARD THIS MYTH SOMEWHERE BUT WHEN I TRIED TO FIND THE SOURCE IT DISAPPEARED. I was positive I heard that there was a vase that held the ocean in it somewhere so just take my word 😭

- the mist makes it look like a water bottle with no label 😭💀💀💀

- Percy accepts the gift because he wants to get out of there, but he suddenly does not have a very good idea of the gods or specifically his father. I don’t think the nereid actually told him that his father really did care, at least a little bit, all he saw it as was his dad not thinking he would succeed/ he saw it as Zeus turning Thalia into a tree because he didn’t want to idk disprespect the other gods? Cause it was easier than defending her? That’s how Percy sees it anyways

- Meanwhile, Grover and annabeth are convinced he died. They looked and called for him, but there was no proof of his survival, so instead annabeth took his place in a lot of missions to fulfill the quest cause she’s a girl boss like that.

- I think her main theory of what happened to him is straight up “I saw him fall and didn’t see him land, so maybe he turned into the lake or a tree or something too” 💀😭

- anyways Percy gets chased by another monster but has no more fucks to give. He’s scary. He’s pale, has dark eyes and a taste for vengeance.

- he tries to find annabeth and Grover but they’re pretty ahead of him.

- my main idea is that they meet again in the underworld with hades and they are little wary honestly.

- also omg I didn’t think of this before but what if they thought, hey, he’s in the underworld, guess he did die 💀.

-But anyways what I thought would happen was annabeth and Grover get there first and annabeth has the backpack with the bolt in it. Hades asks if they wanted a trade and that’s why they came. He bluffs and tells them if they give him the bolt and the helmet he’d let go Percy’s mom or “bring back” percy. (Hades knows percy is not dead and is kinda pissed that Percy is constantly on the edge of death but making it because of his dad technically, and he can’t take him to punishment field or whatever he calls it idk)

- I think annabeth chooses percy and is about to give the bag over, but realizes he was tricked and he was never dead. But idk. There are so many diff ways this could go and I’d love to hear how you guys would write it. I’d love some reblog a that add to this idea.

Also I need unhinged percy content

(Sorry if the art or wording is bad, it’s late and I’m tired)

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo spoilers #technically #pjo #pjo tv series #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo thalia #grover underwood #grover pjo #pjo annabeth #pjo books #pjo au #pjo fanart

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sunsuns-babie · 3 months

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If I Get My Way {K.SUNOO x F!READER}

2 HOT 4 U

Y/n Marsh: Sophomore @/Decelis Uni, Music Education Major (Studying to be Composer or Producer later), Anti-Romantic, Doesn’t want to date again because of her ex, Taylor Swift fan, Kind of jaded more so towards people that aren’t her inner circle, friends with Lee Heeseung and Jang Wonyoung

Anton Lee: Sophomore @/Decelis Uni, Graphic Design Major (chose it for fun), Rich as fuck, Spoils his friends with his riches after bullying them (lovingly) for being poor, Just here for the vibes, Acts like he hates everyone in their circle but wouldn’t actually trade them for anyone else… even if they’re annoying, Wannabe cowboy

Ning Yizhuo: Junior @/Decelis Uni, Game Design Major (Studying to be a video game developer), Delulu, Fangirl for the Uni’s top male figure skater Park Sunghoon, Publicly declares her love for him, Fights the voices in her head that tell her to be crazy (and loses), Realistically she’s more tame she’s just a mega Sunghoon fangirl online

Jennifer Huh aka Yunjin: Junior @/Decelis Uni, Music Major (Studying to help her with her aspirations of being an artist), Beefing with Beomgyu 25/8 over Y/n, Likes Girls (Generation), Hates Men (secretly likes only the ones in her friend group), BIG Taylor Swift fan, Had a crush on Y/n at one point in time

Stephen Yoon aka Keeho: Junior @/Decelis Uni, Computer Engineering Major (who knew he was smart), Horniest motherfucker to ever exist, Acts like a manwhore but actually doesn’t sleep around, His hand is his best friend, Flirty when he wants to be, Smokes Weed

Karina Yu aka Jimin: Senior @/Decelis Uni, Music Education Major (Studying more towards being a choreographer rather than producer like Y/n), MOTHER in both ways, Hottest Girl on campus, Has fanboys and a fan club, Takes care of the group, Y/n’s roommate, Cooks for everyone, Tutors local kids and people on campus for money

Hwang Yeji: Senior @/Decelis Uni, Dance Major (Studying so she can teach others how to dance and maybe open up her own school), Dating Shin Ryujin, Sort of friends but not that close to Sunoo’s group of friends because of her girlfriend, The most mentally sane next to Karina, Works at a cat cafe

Choi Beomgyu: Junior @/HYBE Uni, Music Education Major (Studying to help him produce his own music and become an artist), He’s very much gay and into men but is Y/n’s biggest simp, Everyone thinks he might be bi with how much he loves Y/n, He himself doesn’t even know if he’s joking anymore about being in love with her or if he actually is…, A crackhead metaphorically he’s actually scared of drugs

Choi Yeonjun: Senior @/HYBE Uni, Fashion Design Major (has a passion for fashion), Acts like a manwhore and is one, sleeps around on his campus, doesn’t want an actual relationship just wants a good fuck, Smokes weed with Keeho, Always knows about parties happening at both HYBE & Decelis

Choi Soobin: Senior @/HYBE Uni, Early Childhood Education Major (he’s a softie cutie pie who loves kids), Y/n’s ex boyfriend, doesn’t like social media but has accounts for Y/n, #1 Hater of Y/n’s Ex after him, Clingy towards Y/n, Awkward & Nerdy but oh so cute, Has a secret girlfriend that only Yeonjun & Y/n know about, Is a tutor for elementary school kids

masterlist | profiles (2)

IN WHICH: Kim Seonwoo aka Sunoo is a Sophomore at Decelis University and has a crush on the pretty Music Education Major Y/n Marsh. Seems like a match made in heaven since he’s also a Music Education Major and has had a crush on her since Freshman year when he met her at orientation… well sort of. He’s a little delusional about her but that’s okay, right? When finally given the opportunity to get to know her and potentially date her some weird things start happening that Sunoo doesn’t quite understand… which leads to the postponement of his grand plan to confess his feelings for Y/n. At the end of the day does he get the girl or does he miss out and think of what could’ve been?

ALSO IN WHICH: Sunoo and Y/n’s friends also have their own storylines and side quest relationships happening simultaneously with theirs.

A/N: There’s probably spelling errors somewhere in this post but I tried to catch & fix most of them.

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fandom-go-round · 2 months

Note

I'm back

May I ask if you are willing to do it Soundwave reunion with a femme sparkling that he thought he lost in the war, but instead he finds his sparkling in a battle over her escape pod, but the Autobots manage to get their hands on her so, in turn, He steals a human they care about (any version of the transformers universe is fine, but preferably prime universe.) and trades the human in exchange for his little girl.

Thanks for being so patient! I hope you enjoy!

Soundwave doesn’t believe his optics the first time he sees the escape pod. Pods are rare enough at this stage of the war and most are either dead or empty. Even if this looks like the pod he built himself and sent off, he can’t allow that to cloud his judgement. It’s only when Lazerbeak flies over and gets pictures that he allows himself to hope. That’s his sparkling inside and damn if she’s disappearing again.

The fight is brutal, more so than normal. The Autobots are barely holding ground, shocked by how ruthless Soundwave is being. It’s not hard to put one and one together, Arcee seeing how he’s making a beeline for the pod. Bulkhead is able to buy the Bots enough time to escape and Soundwave wants to rip something apart.

His plan after that is simple and foolproof; it’s not hard to grab Raf after school, even with Bumblebee watching over him. The scout is alive but in rough shape and Raf is strangely quiet, watching Soundwave with wide eyes. Soundwave proposes the switch without any approvals; Megatron wouldn’t resist but Soundwave isn’t going to risk it.

The Bots aren’t thrilled but make the exchange readily enough. Soundwave’s optics are locked on the pod, wires curling around it as soon as it’s close enough. He plugs into the systems without any prompting, triggering a spacebridge at the same time. He runs the safety codes over and over, looking for anything out of the ordinary or threatening. He can hear Starscream complaining on the bridge but it’s white noise to the sound the pod makes as it unlocks. Soundwave doesn’t move as small red optics look up at him, dim from statis. He reaches out and cradles his sparkling close, bending over her; she’s finally home.

#transformers imagine #transformers prime #tfp soundwave #tf soundwave #soundwave imagine #soundwave #tfp

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ragingbookdragon · 1 year

Text

Price dies in a way they always knew he would. In battle, defending the team of people he loved.

He dies in Simon’s arms—not Ghost’s, he’s never Ghost to Price—and makes him promise to take care of his family in his stead.

So Simon does.

He brings Price’s body back, hold’s Price’s wife when she breaks down in the living room of their home, JJ watching from the hallway.

JJ doesn’t cry when they go to Price’s funeral, doesn’t cry when the soldiers salute his mom and him, doesn’t cry when his mom gives him the flag.

He doesn’t cry where his mom can see.

He has to be the man for her now.

He cries in secret. In his bedroom, in Simon’s arms when Simon is awakened from his slumber on the couch to find JJ rubbing at his eyes, “I miss daddy, Uncle Simon.”

Simon remembers his promise to Price.

He makes the decision then and there when JJ tells him why he won’t cry in front of his mother, when he sees his godson bite his lip so hard it bleeds so he won’t cry.

Simon finishes his last contract and gets out of the military.

Moves the family back to Herefordshire and gets a job bartending. It’s easy money, and with the benefits from the government (not to count the amassed amount Price has saved for his family in case of his death), the family lives more than comfortably.

Simon is there, he steps up and becomes the father figure that JJ needs. Teaches him how to be a man, how to live, how to survive.

But he keeps Price alive in the home. Makes sure JJ never forgets who his father was.

When JJ, eligible for enlistment, mentions he wants to be SAS, Simon agrees under one condition, he only serves ten years and gets his degree to do something other than being a soldier. Price’s wife has lost too much to lose her only child too.

JJ agrees, enlists and manages to get under Captain John MacTavish. He thrives under Soap’s leaderships, rises ranks, and when it’s past the ten-year mark, he leaves.

He gets his degree in military history, teaches at the local university for decades until he gets the call from his mother than Simon isn’t long for the night.

So JJ goes home, talks with his mother and is left in the bedroom his mother and Simon share. He remembers how the two had come together in later years. They were never open, but JJ wouldn’t’ve have minded. He knew his father would’ve been okay with them.

He sits, an older man, beside Simon, old and withered, and holds his hand, talks with him. Recounts the old days growing up. Simon teaching him how to drive, how to shave, how to ask a girl out and not look like a weirdo. They laugh and cry and share heart to heart. They mostly laugh at how white their hair is and how their backs hurt.

When Simon feels the long night calling him, he starts to tell JJ about all his regrets in life, how he failed his family, how so many missions failed and he lost soldiers, how sometimes he felt like he failed Price but then he looks at JJ and says, “All the wrong I did, you were the only thing I ever did right.”

JJ takes his hand, squeezes it and tells Simon, “My father was the greatest man I ever knew. Even if he didn’t live to see me grow up, I remember him. But you, Simon, were the best dad a boy could’ve ever asked for. And I wouldn’t trade being your son for anything in the world.”

Simon passes in his sleep.

He’s buried next to his mom and brother’s family.

His mom follows after.

She’s buried beside Price.

And JJ lives the rest of his life teaching his students at university about the greatest men he ever knew until he passes on too.

He wakes up in a field color. Warm spring air and the scent of a million flowers greets him. Then he sees his mom and his father, young, like they were when he was a kid, and he looks at himself, sees him at his best, then JJ sees the others behind them.

Waiting for him.

He hugs his parents, tells them how much he missed them.

Price tells JJ how proud he was of the man he gave life to.

Then he walks up to Simon and stands before the man.

“Hey dad.”

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daze4all · 7 months

Text

RenHeng Baby! Reader: The Eyes Don't Lie

Renfeng Baby Reaction Drabbles: The Eyes Don’t Lie

Starring: Star Rail trailblazers March, Dan Heng & MC! Stelle

“You know her eyes kinda look familiar like fire. OMG Dan Heng of you think the reason blade is after you is to pay child support?! “March asked excitedly having cracked the case that was her tight-lipped draconic friend.

“March not now. I will jump off this ship into space if that is the case” Dan Heng in deep denial deadpanned.

“Do you think that means we can pawn her off to Stelleron hunters?” Stelle questioned out loud then muttered “I’d trade her for mommy kafka”

But was drowned out by the crews united protests “Why would we give a kid to criminals?!”

“She may have a longer lifespan that way…” commented Pon Pon quietly eyeing both March and Stelle warily having seen what they did to get his attention. For example, breaking a cup or pick a leaf off his plants. He hoped they wouldn’t try anything too surprising with the baby….

“Good thing she is a vidyhayrda or else how would she survive with us? What a convenient restart button” plainly stated Stelle to the horror of them all as she played her game blithely ignoring the looks.

AKA the real reason a baby had to be Vidahydra with the star rail crew

———————————————————————————-----------

2: Dan Heng Digging himself out of Denial

“ She’s dead ringer for you and a cutie to boot” cried March as she shoved the baby in Dan Heng face forcing him to look at the baby that looked like him .

“She sort of looks like me” Dan Heng begrudging admitted noticing the teal horns, tail and dark hair only for Baby! Reader to throw up on him from the force of March wagging said baby in front of his face.

After this incident he goes back to denial saying, “Nope no way is she related to me.”

“I feel bad but as the same time you sort of deserves that for abandoning her~” teased March thinking back to the letters.

“I didn’t even know she existed!” Protested Dan Heng in defense.

______________________________________________________________

3. Renfeng Baby Reaction Drabbles:

Welt Shook by Fact he is Actually a Grandpa Now

( + Grandma? Himeko not sure she’d be happy to be called that)

“Maybe this is a good thing.” Himeko reasoned trying to see the bright side. “Taking care of a Baby could teach March responsibility, Stella common sense and Dan Heng to face his fears”

“*Cough* So like the Wizard of Oz, Baby!Reader helps March the scarecrow gain brains, Dan Heng the cowardly lion gives him some courage, and Stelle the tin man get a heart” Welt restates.

“Well I wouldn’t go that far but it might help? It cannot be worse than this chaos I think?” Himeko said primly sipping he tea from a shaking cup.

“Himeko your hands are shaking too much from just coffee and I’m stuck in black hole of thinking of all the ways kids can perish in this space universe plus looking forward to the only 2 hours of sleep we’re going to have to subsist on” Welt somberly reiterated the reality of the situation.

______________________________________________________________

These are Teaser Drabbles for a Renfeng Baby Reaction Fic upcoming on AO3

Funny enough, I realized a baby might have better odds of survival with the Stelleron hunters because most of them are all adults and seem more responsible & serious.

In contrast the Star rail found family Crew is too chaotic

Chapter 1 : Kids Are Gift but Not Like this

Genre: Crack, Humor, What if fic?, Baby Reader, Dragon/Vidhydra! Reader, RenFeng fic too sorta lol.

Synopsis: After saving the Loufu the Star Rail Express is ‘gifted’ Dan Feng’s secret love child

Part 2 : Stelleron Hunter Reaction to RenFeng Child

Blade Going after Dan Heng like “Pay your child support!”

Dan Heng holding the child on the hip “Shouldn’t I be saying that since I’m the one taking care of the baby right now if anything it’s your turn!”

Then shoving said kid into Blades hands which lead us to next chapter Stelleron hunter reactions with the RenFeng baby

In my head, the star rail crew would really care for kid, but that care may be detrimental to said kid …. while the Stelleron hunters would try not to care but do a decent job.

#blade x reader #hsr blade #honkai star rail #dan heng #honkai star rail trailblazer #honkai star rail mc #honkai star rail found family #honkai star rail platonic #arknights #dusk arknights #renheng #renheng fic #renfeng #imbibitor lunae #honkai dan heng #honkai star rail imbibitor lunae #honkai star rail imagines

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dearbraus · 4 days

Text

Good Luck Babe! - Chapter 2: Your Best Laid Plans.

— Aizawa Shōta

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, fem!reader (she/her pronouns used to refer to reader), sfw, reader has anxiety, mentions of past situationships ;), reader has lore, plot building, teacher talk. ⊹ Run time. 4.0k ⊹ Note. This is mostly plot progression, next chapter will be make exciting! Enjoy :3

❝Unpacking isn't always easy, at least the U.A dorms were nice.❞

previous part || masterlist || next part

The U.A dormitories were infinitely nicer than your university accommodations. The realisation strikes you before you’ve made your way across the green expanse of the newly built quad. It bristles your feathers and adds yet another reason why privately funded academies were far from your wheelhouse of experience. The Miyagi University of Education was a fine school, it had a small number of students which meant one on one time with their professors, and was built in the late 19th century making the campus as picturesque as a university could be. Sure, the accommodations were a bit dated especially in comparison to a brand new, state of the art building, but you couldn’t complain. Your university years were enjoyable, you wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

And, Sendai was a lovely city. Costal, filled with enough greenery to never make you miss the quaint rural town you were raised in. There were a plethora of museums and cultural sites that kept you busy and when your close friend worked as an apprentice curator, affordable year round passes were suddenly far more accessible.

Friend, almost boyfriend. Situationship. You chuckle to yourself with a shake of your head. Almost something, almost, nothing. It was maddening when you were stuck within the pit, uncertainty wearing at you. Now, it just seemed silly.

The lines were still blurred on where exactly your relationship stood. Not that the semantics mattered much when you moved nearly four hours away to a new city, with new people, and a new job. You hadn’t seen him in two months, not since you moved into Musutafu for work and he refused to answer any text messages you’d sent. Not that you cared, that chapter of your life was firmly shut and left in the past– in Sendai– and he was still a close friend, at least that’s what you liked to believe, and would until he said otherwise. Not that he would say otherwise. Still, he was a good friend to have even if he didn’t see you as a friend, or was pissy that you never made a move to clearly define what you were. It’s not like he did either.

Almost, he was an almost.

You had a lot of those in your history books. Paramours who weren’t quite lovers but you could hardly call them a friend. Always feeling too attached to simply name them as a friend. Women who’s friendship was so intense you couldn’t call it anything other than something akin to love. An almost something that you were scared to commit to. Your heart locked firmly behind the fortress of your rib cage when you wished it could be freely given.

You think that’s why you took this job.

Aside from the clear résumé booster this would be, the pay, and the perks, and the fact that you’d be stupid not to take the job, it was a far leap from your comfort zone. Sendai was the safe choice for university, it was only an hour train ride from your family’s home, a handful of upperclassmen had already been in attendance and offered to shepherd you into this new era. Most weekends were spent back at home until you made a few friends. Even those came with a caveat and a safety net. Mister situationship with the spiky blonde hair and glasses was your lab partner and subsequently became the gateway to the group of friends you'd made. You didn’t dare to branch out on your own, beyond them.

You took the easy way out. If asked you’d say that made you sensible. Your elementary school teachers would agree. They all thought you to be well beyond your years, an old soul trapped behind a pair of chubby cheeks. Never one to act out or step beyond your comfort zone. Your assignments were predictably perfect and drawn directly from your wheelhouse of interests. Your arguments were well polished and you possessed an arsenal of peer reviewed resources that you shuffled around based on your topic of choice.

As a child the adults in your life fussed over you, shirking their misplaced dreams on your frail shoulders. A little leader in your own right, keeping your stuffed animals and friends in line. They told you that you’d make a great teacher, your voice was gentle and your touch was always soft. That or a mother. As if it were the middle ages and that’s all you could amount to.

But, you were predictable.

You stayed the course they mapped out for you. Too scared for anything bigger. The figs that branched out beyond you had long since rotted and died, taking with it, whatever other paths and aspirations you might’ve filled your life with.

And, in some fruitless attempt to extend beyond their expectations, you left home and took this job. In most lights it still existed within the realm of your comfort zone but in some it pushed you.

You decided, your one saving grace of the day was that you packed lightly and still managed to scarcely fill out your apartment. Though it may not have been half as fancy as the U.A accommodations, you learned from your university dorm that you probably didn’t need as much as you thought you did. Clearing out your apartment took an hour and the commute back to U.A only about thirty minutes. Foot traffic was much lighter now that the morning rush had subsided. It helped that you’d spent the last two months living out of your suitcase. The apartment was temporary, a placeholder until you found something closer to the school. Though you stupidly never thought to consider that you’d be expected to reside on campus grounds.

Perhaps you were a child like Aizawa accused. Your brain gnawed on his words, playing them on loop until it accepted it as fact. Wearing boots too big for your feet, your naivety glaring. Obvious to everyone but you.

It was an easy fix. Pessimism was your middle name, though, you preferred to call it realistic. You would wise up in no time. Gather your bearings, plant your roots, and never stumble over the shock of the unknown again. Prove to them, to you, to anyone else who thought to question you, that you were meant to be here. Then, maybe you wouldn’t feel so sick with insecurity even as you tossed your things into your new lodgings.

Shōta stands with his back pressed against the wall outside of class 1-A when Yamada pops out of the classroom. Kayama would be there soon for modern hero art history, Shōta decided then that he’d prefer to keep whatever schemes Nezu was cooking up to himself. He scoffs to himself as he replays the conversation he has with you.

Concerned.

The ministry of education was concerned? Now? Of course they were. Shōta wasn’t stupid, he saw the uptick of distrust growing between the general public and the ministry– it went hand in hand with the near constant criticism that floated across the gaggle of paparazzi that sat outside the school gates everyday. They questioned the ethics behind U.A as an institute, wrote think pieces and created conspiracy theories to work out every move they made as if to catch the school in some lie. It was as exhausting as it was hypocritical. Shōta laughed at the mere thought. The general public had no problem fawning over his class during the sports festival, marvelling at just how powerful they had to be to stand against the League of Villains all on their own.

But sure, now there was a problem. It was serious now that a student had been kidnapped.

Stuffing his hand into his pocket, Shōta grabs the small plastic bottle of eye drops he keeps handy. His eyes sting with irritation, if that was even possible. His unkempt bangs slide away from his forehead when he tilts his head back, widening his eyes for a few drops of temporary relief.

“Hey” Hizashi calls, popping his head out of the classroom door, “Who was that you were talking to? Your students sure had a lot of questions but I didn’t have many answers”

“Irrelevant,” Shōta snips.

“Hm?”

There’s a stack of workbooks tucked in the crook of his elbow, the covers worn and the colours faded. The class must have finished their latest grammar unit. He tilts his head down, his bright orange glasses slip down the slope of his nose to reveal his inquisitive yellow eyes. He peers at Shōta with interest.

“I said, she’s irrelevant,” he repeats, with a frown, “At least to you.”

Hizashi chortles, “Oh? So what, only you get a special little helper?” he quips, with a smile, “Iida said she introduced herself to the class and Nezu was with her, it seemed like she was supposed to be there.”

Shōta hums, pushing off from the wall and away from his classroom, “Seems to me you’re pretty well informed already, Mic.”

“Eh, not anymore than your students.”

His laughter bounces down the hall as he bounds after Shōta, only pausing to adjust the stack of workbooks under his arm.

“C’mon, Shōta, spill!” He says, throwing his free arm over his shoulder, “No one’s losing their job are they?”

The teasing lilt dies quickly, “Right?” Hizashi asks, concern drips from his tongue. Concern for Shōta. He’s getting sick of it.

“She’s from the ministry of ed,” Shōta huffs.

There’d been concern after Bakugō had been kidnapped. Selfish ones. Some worried their positions were up for debate, others wondered if alumni and sponsors would pull funding. Of course, there was always the concern for bad publicity. This entire school year was bad for publicity. Not that it mattered. Bored, nameless nobodies on internet forums always had something to criticise even when the academic year was perfect, when U.A graduates continually climbed the ranks, opened their own agencies, and continued to keep Japan safe. Whatever concern they had now was purely bureaucratic to save their own skin.

“Oh?” Hizashi raises an eyebrow.

They share a look, “Apparently they’ve begun to worry,” he explains, thinking back to what you said. How much did you believe in the lines you’d been fed? Did you create them?

No. You seemed earnest, young enough that your naïvity was genuine and you were likely just a piece for them to move about the board as they saw fit. You couldn’t be complicit in whatever cover up scheme Nezu had allowed into the building. Your flighty, nervous demeanour told him as much. He was worried he might burst into tears if his voice dared to sharpen any further. The way you wilted like a sad, delicate flower beneath the uncomfortable heat of the sun reminded him of a few past students. The ones he expelled for being too soft and too thoughtful. The ones who weren’t cut from the right cloth, they’d never be able to hack it as a hero without that reckless drive most had.

You were like them but somehow even more fragile. Even with the tenacity and sheer stupidity you had.

“About?” Hizashi questions, his eyebrow quirking upward.

“Our teaching capabilities,” Shōta shrugs, jabbing his thumb into the up bottom once they reach the elevators.

Hizashi leans against the wall, hitching his leg upward, “What does that mean?” His scrunches up in annoyance, “It’s deceptively vague.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

The ride up the elevator is quiet. Hizashi keeps his lips pursed in a fine line while Shōta scowls in contemplative silence.

Concern?

If they were concerned they’d help implement mental health services for all students at U.A. He’s petitioned them relentlessly for years, they had the funding, Nezu was onboard but there was far too much red tape to navigate through and each thread led back to the ministry. Instead they wanted to throw you to the wolves. A peppy, fresh faced, anxiety riddled university graduate who had yet to experience much of the real world. You sparkled in the way most did before they got a taste of how monotonous their dream careers were.

“I heard the minister of education is planning on campaigning for Prime Minister,” Hizashi comments, stepping toward the now open elevator doors.

Shōta clicks his tongue, “Hm, how convenient.”

“It could be worse.”

“How so?” He raises a brow to Hizashi.

“The hero commission and the ministry could be breathing down our necks,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’m sure she’s harmless and her presence is merely a formality, a box to check to appease antsy civilians and overzealous journalists.”

“Right.”

Shōta gives Hizashi a tight, strained smile as the elevator door shuts between them.

A formality.

That’s what you were. He didn’t often feel uneasy, but none of this sat right with him. His stomach churned at the thought of you. The same looming feeling of dread sat like a pit in his stomach most days when he stared directly into the bright eyed, determined faces of his students. You held the same look, though it was shrouded with an obvious nervousness that you couldn’t shake. Still, your dreams had yet to be jaded by the cruelties of this world, much like his students. It made him uneasy. They at least understood the gravity of their reality, he wasn’t sure you did.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shōta sighed to himself.

He was growing soft in his age. That’s why he didn’t fight you. It had to be why.

Sauntering down the hall to his office, Shōta wonders if he made the right decision.

Aizawa finds an hour after the final bell has rung. The sun has dipped low in the afternoon sky, painting your lodgings a warm, comforting yellow. The walls are bare and the decor is sparse. Only a few polaroid pictures, a calendar and your two degrees occupy the space. It feels oddly big, too big for just you but there’s nothing else to cram in the nooks and crannies to make your new home a little less lonesome.

It’s a relief to see Aizawa’s tired face on the other side of your door. He’d offer you a reprieve from the anxious thoughts that relentlessly ping pong around your skull.

“Hi!” You chirp, opening up the door, offering him a nervous smile, “Did you want to come in?”

He hoarsely grumbles out something resembling a, “Yes”, pushing past you before you’ve fully moved out of the way. His eyes scan his surroundings, you suppose he’s taking in the little decorations you’ve set about the place but you struggle to follow his gaze from where it’s hidden beneath his fringe. You suppose it’s a learned trait. After a bit of googling, you found that his quirk was aptly named erasure and manifested through his eyes.

Aizawa settles on your sofa, his legs spread as he rests his elbows on his thighs.

“Did you uhm, want something to drink?”

All you had was a nearly empty tin of instant coffee and a box of tea that expired two years ago. You hoped he’d say no, so you didn’t have to go through the mortifying ordeal of scrounging something you. Your parents raised you to be hospitable when you opened your home to guests. So, you couldn’t help but ask.

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand, “Thank you but, I’m fine,” he says, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers.

“Okay!”

Scratching the back of your head, you flounder around the living space. The armchair was piled high with your winter coats and the only other space to sit was next to him.

“I don’t bite,” he mutters, peering up at you.

You shift nervously from foot to foot, reminding yourself that he’s a pro hero– despite his tired disposition. He was likely trained to read body language. It wasn’t that you were easy to read but that he read others easily. There was no need to feel nervous, he wasn’t doing it purposely and you probably weren’t giving anything away. Shuffling closer to the sofa, you sit as close to the arm as you could without making your discomfort obvious.

“You’ve settled in?”

Nodding you nervously bite your lip, “I pack light so it wasn’t much work.”

Aizawa hums. His arm brushes against yours. You can feel how his chest rumbles as he speaks.

“Good,” he says, pausing for a moment, “Then, I trust you have the time to elaborate on why you’re here?”

A small sound of agreement passes your raw, bitten lips, “I sure can!” You smile, hoping the pep in your voice disguises the panic, “Uhm, well the ministry of education was worried that the repeated villain attacks and lack of consistent curriculum was negatively impacting their development.”

You wrack your brain trying to remember what exactly their email outlined but all that comes up is the excitement you felt. The picture in your mind is hazy, the details sparse but you remember most of the key points they had. They’d stuck out to you and seemed reasonable enough once you started digging into the files they sent you.

“I think it’s fairly obvious that being the target of villain attacks would have adverse effects,” you state as if he didn’t see that for himself, “However in addition to the unique mode of learning employed by each teacher here, there has been concern that the lack of consistency is what’s causing their markedly low grades.”

Aizawa scoffs, staring at you in disbelief, “Their grades are fine, I would know.”

“Their grades are still above average; however, compared to their entrance exam marks and results from the previous year's standardised tests, the class's average has dropped by 5%,” you explain, pressing a finger to the tip of your chin, “I have the data sheets, I can show them to you if you want.”

Initially you hadn’t been concerned when looking over their most recent examination marks. They had done exceptionally well with material that far surpassed the curriculum expectations set in the prefecture, however the decline was clear. You presumed the several areas in which they hadn’t done as well in, had been lessons interrupted by villain attacks. It wasn’t their fault, and if anything they were still on track but still, you couldn’t help but worry.

“If they're above the country's average, I don’t see the issue.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you sigh “Well there’s a clear pattern that indicates an issue that needs to be addressed,” a frustrated puff of air passes your lips, “These kids are meant to be above average, sure that’s why they’re here, however their emotional well being and emotional needs should also be met instead of being ignored because they’re so special!”

Clearing your throat, you sink deeper into your sofa’s cushion, cheeks warmed to the touch. Your voice had raised several octaves, progressively getting louder as you prattled. You’d always been passionate about mental health, but you didn’t know you were this passionate. Aizawa watches you, there's something in his eyes, you can’t name it. Not yet. You don’t know him well enough. He gestures for you to continue on with his hand.

“It’s evidentially contributing to a class-wide decline,” you conclude, fiddling with your fingers, “It’s not your fault! I tried asking Principal Nezu about U.A’s guidance counsellor and mental health resources and apparently neither exist.”

He nods, seemingly knowing it all too well,“How do you propose we fix that then?”

“This isn’t something that’s cut and dry, I need to spend some time with your students, get to know them, and hear from them where they’re needing support.”

Aizawa laughs. He laughs at you, throwing his head back and letting out a full bellied laugh. You’re stunned to silence, blinking, half in disbelief and half in shock. His laugh was nice, rich even. Oddly befitting for a man like him, but still unexpected. At first glance you wouldn’t have expected from him. Though, you’re unsure what you had expected of Aizawa. He was nothing like the glamorous, larger than life pro heroes you grew up watching on television. Aizawa was far more relaxed, his dress casual, and seemed to proudly wear the dark circles that lined his tired eyes. It made him approachable, the lack of lustre and branding around the elusive Eraserhead.

You liked that about him.

“Is something funny?” You asked with a quirk of your brow.

“It’s just rather amusing that you think any of them will ask for help,” he states, leaning back into the sofa, “Have you ever heard of a hero's pride?”

“Well, it’s a good thing they’re not heroes, they’re teenagers,” you hum, clasping your hands together.

“Try telling them that and see how well that goes.”

A joke, you think he was making a joke,“I’m well aware they think they’re more grown up than they actually are,” you felt the same at that age, you’re sure the responsibility of herodom only intensified it,“They kinda are compared to their middle school peers at the very least.”

Aizawa snorts, “Something like that,” he agrees with a shake of his head.

His gaze catches yours for a moment, it’s held for a few short seconds before you anxiously look away. Letting out a forced cough, you train your eyes on the television that sits across the room.

“So I was thinking it would be a good idea if I could have a copy of your students' syllabus for each course they're taking?” You blurt, eager to continue the conversation forward.

“What?”

“The syllabus?” You repeat, “You know, the document that outlines their course expectations, assignments, and schedule for the semester?”

He scratches his chin, rubbing the stubble, “We don’t have those,” Aizawa says with a frown, “Is that standard practice?”

“Ah, mostly in University but many secondary schools are beginning to use them,” you explain, “It helps give students an idea of their semester beforehand.”

“It’s the beginning of the semester,” Aizawa comments, his lips pursed.

“That it is.”

Shrugging his shoulders, his eyes slide over to you, “We could make up a syllabus,” he suggests, “If you think that it’d be a worthwhile endeavour.”

“I think it is,” you sit a little straighter, a grin overtaking your lips, “Students seem to respond well when they feel prepared rather than blindsided, I can send you one of the research articles I’ve read!”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Giving your knee a pat, Aizawa offers you a strained smile.

You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking if he was sure. Aizawa didn’t strike you as a man who did anything he wasn’t sure of. Your overly eager, zealous attitude could be a bit much. You didn’t want to come off any stronger than you already did. Whatever impression that you’d made to him likely wasn’t one you’d want to stick around for too long.

“Well, that sounds like a plan!”

“So, tomorrow you’ll observe my class,” he proposes, “We can regroup in the evening, if it should suit you?”

You find yourself nodding before he’s finished speaking, “Oh for sure!” You grin, clapping your hands on your thighs, “I can do that!”

Aizawa rises from your sofa with a small grunt, stretching out his spine before he turns to you, “I’ll see you then.”

Nodding in agreement, you watch as he walks out of your front door. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, flopping back onto the sofa as soon as the door clicks shut behind him. Tomorrow would be the big day then, the day you stepped into adulthood and kickstarted your career. Your stomach churned at the realisation. You’d spent the better part of two weeks preparing for this day, meticulously rehearsing what you’d say, how you’d say it, what you’d wear, and how you’d part your hair.

You’d have to do it all again, tomorrow. This time, without any of your planning.

#aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shota x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #bnha imagines #mha imagines #good luck babe!

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