#and i have this burning resentment in my heart for anyone who had a childhood that was anything less than miserable and traumatic

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity Headcannons; Mattheo Riddle

series masterlist

A glimpse into our main boy's life leading up to sixth year (where Serendipity kicks off) – eventually going to do them for each character (the ones who are a constant in the series), except meadow since that's more reader-centric but let me know who i should do next (this is me putting off writing chapter 17 because its making me want to rip out my hair)

It actually ended up being so long (i got carried away) that i'll have to do a separate post for the nsfw😏 hcs that i also wrote down - if that's something that people want to see of course

warning(s): cannonical violence, mentions of parental death, menions of torture and abuse (tried to make this as mild as possible), allusions to self harm (literally one bullet point), mentions of blood supremacy/cannonical pureblood madness, mentions of alcohol consumption/drug use, mentions of being sick (sorry fellow emetaphobes), allusions to an ED

Obviously he's Voldemort's son (its a known fact; when his name was called shortly after Harry's during the Sorting Ceremony, people immediately began to fear him for his last name – avoided him in corridors and older students were horrible to him)

His mother died when he was born, so he never got to meet her. But she had loved Tom Riddle with all her heart, despite knowing what kind of person he was (I like the tom hughes fancast for an older version of him – TikTok editors have me influenced)

When he failed to kill baby Harry, Theodore Nott's mum took it upon herself to care for Mattheo (who was only several months older than Harry at the time) – she was close friends with Matt's mum

They may not be related by blood, but Matt considers Theo to be his brother as well as his best friend

Mattheo's childhood (up until he was eight) was relatively acquiescent, but obviously being the heir to the Dark Lord comes with its own traumas – he was plagued with nightmares he swears were real conversations with his father

When Theo's mum died, his father wasn't the nicest to either of the boys; they both grew to resent him – the man either ignored them, shouted at them or beat them senselessly (to build character)

They had a Governess in the years after Theo's mum died, so that they'd be well ahead of their peers once they got to Hogwarts - also a way to keep them out of Theo Nott Senior's way

During his sorting, the hat immediately placed him in Slytherin, but it wasn't as quick to choose, like it was with Draco or Blaise.

Harry had unconsciously made him public enemy number one when he found out who he was (I mean his dad did kill Harry's parents so) as well as Draco and co

Mattheo doesn't believe in the blood supremacy that is spouted around pureblood families – has never used 'mudblood' to insult anyone (draco take notes fr) – but thats only due to theo's mother and the way she raised her boys – also it would be so hypocritical because he's a halfblood (i think, idk the twisted lore of purebloods too deeply)

Professor Quirrell took a particular interest towards Mattheo (his dad was literally playing house on the back of the guys head)

He found out that Quirrell was Voldemort (?) pretty quickly when the Dark Mark was burned onto his left forearm – something that continuously happened in his nightmares so he thought he was in one when it happened

Partly why he didn't say anything – he was also weary that no one would believe him

He tried everything to get it off his skin – burning, scratching, spelling, even carving it out, but nothing worked. The Dark Mark was engraved onto his arm like it had buried itself within the very cell structure of his skin

He didn't gain as much attention as Harry did in first year. He went practically under the rader after the first couple of months, only interacting with his small group of friends (Theo, Draco, Blaise, Enzo and Pansy) and competing for the top academic spot in class – when Theo's father found out that both boys were being beaten for first place by a muggleborn (go Hermione!), he used the cruciatus curse on both of them - moreso on Theo :(

Second year was a completely different story however

When the Chamber of Secrets opened, people whispered that he could be the heir of Slytherin (because his father is literally Voldemort so technically they weren't wrong) and he didn't go as unnoticed as before

He developed a thick skin towards the insults and returned them with steely looks that sent people scurrying the other way

He began physically fighting some people when his restraint snapped at times though – he didn't have a way to relieve the tension from all the agression at this point

The only people who spoke to him with no fear were his friends

When the first student was petrified, he was brought into Dumbledore's office for questioning

During the dueling session, he watched in awe as Harry spoke to the snake but didn't dare say a word

He was the only one in his group that didn't bad mouth Harry at this time or call him the 'heir of Slytherin'

He's actually really smart (not at Ancient Runes though lol) and is among one of Professor Flitwick's favourite students

When Harry and Ron posed as Crabbe and Goyle you (Meadow) had posed as Pansy and he had thought it was strange to see her with the two of them, but she had a small crush on Draco in first and second year so he brushed it off as her trying to impress his friend

But he knew it wasn't her when Draco had mentioned Hermione (calling her a mudblood) and 'Pansy' had gone deathly still

He's been skilled at Occlimency for as long as he can remember, as has Theo. But Mattheo has a certain affinity (he calls it a curse) for hearing people thoughts without even uttering the spell – also why he's so good at preventing people like Dumbledore from using it on him

Wasn't aware of his father's diary being used to lure Harry to the Chamber of Secrets, but at one point he heard the whispers in the pipes and vehemently ignored it until it eventually stopped (big mistake, cus voldy holds grudges very well)

Once Ginny was rescued from the Chamber, he felt incredibly guilty even though he literally had no control of the situation – sent her an 'anonymous' gift basket as an apology (he knew it would never make up for what happened to her, but he hoped it would at least make her smile) – it did, she thought it was a gift from dumbledore though

One of the only times he was even a little kind to the Golden Trio and their friends

The summer after second year was hellish for him and Theo

The basilisk was obviously meant to kill Harry so Theo Nott Senior was angry that his master's big plan had failed (2 years running🤝)

Third year was more mild than the last (thank God, honestly)

Mattheo had made it onto the quidditch team now that half of them had left the year before

He's a beater and proud of it – lets out all that pent up agression on the field, which makes him one of the best in his house (dare i say whole school🤭)

Quidditch became his whole personality basically (he's a teenage boy duh – it's like the football obsessed idiots in the pub levels) and he came to love the attention it brought him – he was starting to be noticed by girls outside Slytherin and making enemies with the rival players

He decided then that he wanted to play quidditch professionally in the future – he would not be caught dead behind a desk in the Ministry (they probably wouldn't hire hom anyway, simply because he's a Riddle)

Because he was on the team, he was invited to more parties which he also enjoyed – the man can drink!

But he wasn't one to jump around like a madman like some people he saw at the parties. He and his friends (those on the team – Theo, Blaise and Draco) would sit around the sofas and play drinking games with others who were sat down – including you and some of your housemates at times – but never the Gryffindors

Sirius Black was on the loose which took the pressure of being Tom Riddle's son off his shoulders somewhat – no one actually dared to fuck with Mattheo now that he was a beater either

Buckbeak took a liking to him, surprisingly, as did the thestrals that only he, Theo and so few others could see

The dementors affected him as much as they affected Harry – he could hear his own mother's cries

During the boggart lesson, he was apprehensive of what he would see – would he see what he sees in his most horrifying nightmares? Or would it be something as trivial as a grindilow or something?

Safe to say he was glad that Professor Lupin stopped the lesson after Harry's turned into the dementor

Speaking of dementors, one of the only spells he cannot cast is the Patronus Charm – even his happiest memories are not strong enough to envoke the magic

People thought he helped Sirius into the castle at one point (absurd, i know)

He and Harry got into some arguments at times – Mattheo liked to provoke him for the fun of it, mostly so that competition on the quidditch field was filled with extra tension, but also because Harry and Ron are dickheads who like to talk shit about him and his friends (hypocrites because the Slytherins literally do the same thing lol)

This is the point where you're on his radar a bit more frequently – you, Ron and Hermione went to Hogsmeade a lot and were frequently in the same places as Mattheo and his friends

He does not like you at all, partly for the fact that you follow Harry and Dumbledore so blindly but also – you are one of the reasons he and theo get so much stick at home, along with hermione being top of the class, you are as well so he grows to resent you a little

He's always there when you're yelling at anyone who says something against your friends (usually Crabbe or Goyle – our mortal enemies fr)

When Sirius escaped the dementors people genuinely thought he helped (again, absurd i know)

Moving onto fourth year...he went to the Quidditch World Cup with Theo and Nott Senior disappeared after the match ended and festivities began

We all know what happened but when the Dark Mark appeared in the sky, Theo, Draco and Mattheo all looked at it in absolute horror, having heard the harrowing stories first hand from their families

Mattheo had a panic attack at the thought of his father returning – after the run in with him in first year, he's been certain that Voldemort isn't really dead, and this confirms it for him (because why the fuck would his father's mark appear out of nowhere?)

Because of that, the school year is off to a great start

He gets into fights left, right and centre – especially since quidditch has been cancelled in favour of hosting the Triwizard Tournament (i've obviously aged up the characters but lets pretend the age limit still exists in some capacity)

The Durmstrang students practically worshipped the ground he walked on – which was ego boosting to start with, but Mattheo quickly grew irritated by their constant infatuation with him – especially Karkaroff who always compared him to the great Tom Riddle or the 'Dark Lord' interchangeably

Whenever Professor Moody stared at him for too long, he got an odd sensation on his left forearm, where the mark sits, like spiders were scurrying and crawling around – he decides after the very first DADA lesson (unforgivable curses) that he did not like this professor.

There was just something off about him, but Mattheo couldn't quite figure out what – foolishly tried Occlimency but obviously it didn't work on the most infamous auror

Wasn't even surprised when Harry's name came out of the Goblet – he is coined 'Saint Potter' by the friendgroup (started of course by Draco)

He and Theo snuck out to the forbidden forest to see the dragons up close before the first task – almost got caught by Charlie Weasley, had Hagrid and Harry not showed up with Madame Maxine mere moments before he could spot them

He took a random girl from Beauxbatons to the Yule Ball because he did not want to deal with the hassle of Hogwarts gossip – but everyone gossiped about it anyway (busybodies)

Rumours went around about the two of them (you know like how Snape caught two people in the carriage🤭)

At this point, you were just his arch nemesis' best friend so you were not fully on his radar past sneering comments and jibes, but a small part of him can admit that you looked beautiful in your glittering dress (think Feyre starfall dress vibes)

The rest of the year went by uneventfully – he got on with his school work and remained one of the top of class except in Ancient Runes which theo tried to tutor him in....unsuccessfully

In the months leading up to the third task, Mattheo noticed Moody's skittish behaviour (also Karkaroff and weirdly...Snape) especially after Crouch was found murdered in the Forbidden Forest after the second task

On the day of the first task, he had the worst gut feeling he's ever felt – bigger than the day he found out that his surrogate mother had died

Sitting in the stands with his friends, near the back of the stadium, his arm begins to burn so painfully that he has to fight physically crying out at the crippling pain (Voldemort just got resurrected as a noseless alien)

Excuses himself to his friends' utter confusion and concern – Theo stops Pansy from running after him, letting him have space, somehow just knowing what Matt's sudden departure meant (he saw Mattheo cradle his left arm while he walked away)

Just before Mattheo walks through the exit, Harry apparates back with the trophy (portkey) and Cedric's dead body beneath him screaming that "Voldemort's back!"

He couldn't hold back the contents of his stomach at the statement because he knew it was true. He just knew it deep in his bones.

He had to hide behind the bleachers of the quidditch pitch while everyone was stampeding to leave, where he just sobbed and sobbed because he knew then what his future would be.

Theo found him an hour later and together they mourned for the future Mattheo had desperately always wanted

That summer was the worst he's ever experienced to date.

He met this snake-like version of his father, his only other memories being of a handsome man (Tom Hughes vibes) not whatever this thing was.

His father thanked Theo Nott Senior personally for taking such good care of his heir – this was such an ego boost for that horrid man

Mattheo was tortured into the perfect soldier that summer – tasked with training other Slytherins/purebloods into the regime

Its not very discernable but if his hands are still for long enough, they begin to shake unconsciously due to just how many times Voldemort used the cruciatus curse on him

His nightmares had become a reality that summer – he no longer slept, and only ate when Draco had to force him to

There was one silver lining at least

No one believed Harry Potter.

So Voldemort's army grew exponentially in secret, as did their knowledge of certain prophecies

We know that Professor Trelawney had the vision but Voldemort has a seer of his own – who made him aware of the order being in possession of a siphon but not able to say who it is (its meadow of course🤪🤪🤪)

His fifth year marked the start of the war, even if the otherside didn't know it just yet

At school, Harry started many explosive arguments with him, that he admittedly fed into a little bit out of pure amusement

His stoic facade was ever present this year. Not an expression painted his handsome face in the public eye. Rarely did anyone catch a glimmer of joy in those onyx eyes.

It was around this time, when he discovered that Harry was being taught Occlimency that you were doing some studying of your own

He heard the soft whisper of your thoughts in his head – a pleasant sound – mumbling little bits and pieces about the art, as if you were revising them over and over like a broken record

He knew you were Theo's patrol partner because Theo would not stop complaining about having to deal with one of Saint Potter's loyal followers (the two of you did not speak for 5 whole patrol sessions – lets say between September and November)

Thats when the idea sprang

Admittedly it started out as a way to satisfy his curiosity

He wanted to know why you were learning Occlimency and actually doing surprisingly well, despite not having someone to actively practice it on/with you, while Potter was not taking it seriously at all

So he asked Theo to try and befriend you – when asked why, he explained that he was curious and wanted to know if he hunch he had was right – his gut feelings are almost never wrong

Theo begins his task of slowly befriending you and relaying anything remotely important to Mattheo – no progress at first, until the two of you happen to bond over your hatred for the new DADA professor

He joins the Inquisitorial Squad because Theo's father wanted him to, and by extension said that the Dark Lord wanted his son to set an example too (lets not forget, in his prime Tom was literally the smartest in the school – was definitely head boy as well as an academic weapon)

This is how he finds out what Umbridge's detentions truly entailed

Speaking of Umbridge (she deserves her own tw actually), she had shown particular favouritism towards Mattheo and his friends, to anyone who was against Harry, really – never gave them detentions and let them off easily, even defended Mattheo's honour against Harry's 'heinous' accusations

But back to the detentions – both he and Theo found out about the blood quill around the same time

He was waiting for Theo to finish patrols so they could go smoke in the Astronomy Tower, when he overheard Umbridge talking to the two of you

Well actually she was talking to you – because apparently it was now against the rules for prefects to walk around past curfew (even though thats their literal role?) and she gave you a detention for it

When you asked why in Merlin's name Theo wasn't being treated the same, she said it's because he's on the Inquisitorial Squad and was therefore exempt from her detentions

You had detention the next day and did not show up to your next few patrols, but Mattheo saw the hints of a glamour covering your non-dominant hand (he would know because he's had a glamour over his scarred forearm for years)

Theo told him that you refused to admit that something was wrong - you hadn't even told your friends about whatever was bothering you

They found out by chance – a first year that had gotten lost was cradling their hand and the boys saw the words of the boy's own scrawl etched harshly into the flesh of his hand

When Matt was observing you in the library one day (happenstance, he's not a stalker lol), he was deducing how far along you were with Occlimency but found that you winced and held your head when he actively tried to enter your mind – not good for how long you'd been teaching yourself the art

So he gets Theo to talk to you mentally and the first time it happens is actually comical – you drop the contents of your potions incredients onto the floor out of shock before you whack Theo across the head with your hardbacked potions textbook

That's really how the two of you became friends, your friendship with Pansy following soon after

Now you're slowly building up the tolerance for Occlimency with a little help from a friend

Leading up to Christmas, the mark burns wickedly against his skin at all hours of the day

Then Arthur Weasley is attacked and Mattheo is surprised that no Weasley has come to deck him in the face for simply being Voldemort's son

Obviously no one does because everyone (barring you and Hermione) have been swept away to 12 Grimmauld Place

After Christmas he does get decked – George sends a bludger his way that most definitely had the power to break his entire arm (and definitely a few ribs); after the abysmal Christmas break he's had, he's almost tempted to let it happen – but his beater instincts kick in and he's pelting the bludger and all its momentous energy towards one of Gryffindor's chasers instead

His Dark Mark burns every time his father fails to retrieve his and Harry's prophecy

He begins to suspect that you are the siphoner when you perform wandless magic like its a second nature during breakfast one morning (you're using your magic to flip through the pages of your book, while you leisurely sip coffee, probably awaiting Granger's arrival)

His suspicions are more than confirmed when your magic seems to literally pulse like your pulling more of it from the air – it's almost indiscernible, but if he paid attention, he could see the symphonic ripple of your magic and the Great Hall's magic mingling in the air (and he knows Dumbledore can see it too)

He explains this to Theo without telling him so much that'll get him involved with what knowing this will mean for his brother

He passes all his O.W.Ls with a plethora Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations grades, except for Ancient Runes where he gets a mere Acceptable (which somehow still allows him to retake the class in his N.E.W.Ts options, funnily enough)

What's not funny is Voldemort's reaction to this anomaly of a result :(

Lets rewind to june 18th (aka battle of department of mysteries; RIP Sirius Black you icon, you legend)

The DA have just been busted (like two weeks/a week prior to the date above) and you're all in detention writing out the line "I must not disobey the Ministry" over and over again – to the point where it has become a permanent scar that you see everyday

Exams are happening and Harry has just been delivered a vision by Voldemort (he just passed out in a DADA exam🫣)

Saint Potter and his band of followers try to break into Umbrige's office and fail exponentially

The Inquisitorial Squad catch you all in the act of guarding the corridor outside her office while Harry, Ron and Hermione try and contact Sirius

You're all trapped in the office and everyone (including the Inquisitorial Squad) is shocked when she goes to cast the cruciatus on Potter – internally Matt is cringing and fighting the instinctive flinch

"You can't do that! It's illegal!" Your defence of harry is ignored as Umbridge puts Fudge picture face down – Matt swears your eyes burn a violent indigo, but it's gone in a blink

Hermione and Harry end up taking her to where 'Dumbledore's secret weapon' is and you lot are now all stuck with the Inquisitorial Squad

Theo actually only holds you loosely, and he's the same with Ginny – not forcefully holding her, but also not allowing her to break free at the same time

Crabbe and Goyle take Ron's bate and eat the Puking Pastilles from the Weasley twins' personal collection and you all escape

Then the battle eventually takes place and everyone knows that Voldemort truly has returned

Now onto the current timeline of Serendipity!!

Mattheo decides over summer that he wants to help the otherside desperately

Especially because Draco is now a Death Eater

And Enzo and Theo are set to become Death Eaters the following Christmas – punishment for what happened during the battle in June

Proposes the idea that he teach you Occlimency in exchange for you helping them get out – the group agrees and Theo and Pansy set out to persude you to help

Roll on the Serendipity plot where he slowly begins to actually care about you (scary feelings; unknown territory)

He's never felt this strongly about someone before, not in the way he feels about you

At first he enjoyed how infuriated you became with him; he also despised how many questions you would ask (but that was your nature and he grew accustomed to it)

You're the only one whose ever called him Théo, after the death of Theo's mother, the name was as good as dead to him, until you started calling him it – he never wanted you to stop

The feelings you invoke in him are what finally allow him to produce a full patronus – when the majestic form of a Hippogriff bursts from the tip of his wand, swirling and spiralling at the thought of you, he let out a genuine laugh

He's so soft for you – his persona changes in the blink of an eye at times – from cruel and brooding to gentle and compassionate

His friends have never seen him happier – admittedly were surprised to learn of your relationship, but when they watched the way the two of you interacted after you'd become a pariah to your old friends, they understood.

Mattheo is so protective of all his friends, and somehow he's even more protective of you – he had wanted to incinerate Harry and Ron on the spot for how they'd made you feel, but knew you would never forgive him for it, despite how badly they'd hurt you

He'd burn the world down if it meant you'd be safe, especially because you had the one power that his father desired to have in his ever growing arsenal

Mattheo always has to be touching you in some way (he's a physical touch kind of guy), whether that be a hand on your thigh when you're seated; an arm wrapped around you as you walk; interlocking pinkies, etc. He just loves feeling you near him.

You're such a typical Slytherin/Ravenclaw couple – your intellect amazing him all the time, and he's no longer miffed that you always beat him for a spot at the top in class – his ambitions and adamant loyalty are something that you admire dearly, and hold close to your heart

You both know without having to voice it that your love is unconditional and eternal. Its a love as rare as your magic.

~∞~

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff

@babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony

@dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf

@devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj

@nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette

@prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl

@rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost

@weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @benwadsworthsgf

@rainy-darling @faeriepigeons

@lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff

@gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome

@nopedefe @spencerreidsthings

@navs-bhat @agent-tempest

@magimtz23 @y0urm0m12

@sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne

@whatsupb18

#serendipity series #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #headcannons #angst #fluff #flangst #slytherin boys #slytherin x ravenclaw

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

https://www.tumblr.com/royaltealovingkookiness/187489175766/i-think-the-anon-who-sent-the-zuko-lost-azula-in?source=share

Your thoughts?

(I'm only mentioning the ones I don't agree with)

"Oogling him when he's half-naked"

As a brazilian, this one was HILARIOUS to me. He just has his shirt off because it's summer and bending is a physical exercise and he's going to sweat. This isn't him dramatically taking his shirt off at The Beach and a ton of fangirls appearing to drool all over him. This isn't sexual.

She's literally watching him and AANG practice firebending. That's all. Why are we making it about attraction, and why are we assuming she could only possibly be looking at Zuko when Aang is there too? By that logic, Ozai and Aang were checking each other out during their fight in the finale, and so were Zhao and Zuko during their Agni Kai - after all, they're LOOKING at EACH OTHER when NEITHER OF THEM has a SHIRT on.

"Note Katara's body language"

Literally what about it? I legitimately don't understand this one. Touching her hair is somehow weird or flirty? It's just hair!

Is it because she's sitting next to Zuko? What, she's not allowed to be too close to a guy without it being suggestive/flirty in some way? Again, as a brazilian, I am VERY confused. Somebody help me out here.

"I don't think anyone could argue sibling vibes in a scene in which they are visibly disgusted at the thought of being mistaken for a couple"

What? Like, sure, I can see SOME siblings just laughing it off and correcting the person who made a mistake, but being grossed out is a 100% valid reaction.

As a girl that grew up being told "You saying you don't like this boy can ONLY mean that you secretly like him" and had to hear an unhinged woman call my 11-year-old self "her future daughter in law" just because I was friends with her son, I am BEGGING people to quit it with that bullshit. Being weirded out is not "admiting" there are feelings there. Stop it. Sometimes people are shy, sometimes they just genuinely don't like each other that way. Stop projecting.

(Also the only correct ways to do the mistaken for a couple thing is with the characters either just rolling with it "to avoid explaining" or to one of them to exaggerate on the awkwad denial and accidentally offend/upset the other, like it happened with Kataang in Cave Of Two Lovers)

"I don't remember any scene of Zuko or Katara fighting side by side with their sibling like they did with each other"

Also if we're talking side-by-side fighting stance that screams romantic symbolism, let's be fucking serious here. The dragons literally make a heart.

"You can only want to see embarrassing/cute baby pictures of your friend if you want to date them, and siblings totally don't use old childhood photos to annoying each other"

Are you fucking kidding me?

"Co-parenting"

Fuck off, they're children. Traumatized children. ALL of them. They've all done stupid shit, and they've all been exasperated by their friends' doing dumb shit. Found family doesn't mean we NEED one or more characters to play the "parent" role.

Katara actively resents the idea of being seen more as parent than as a friend, and Zuko JUST discovered the revolutionary concept of "Wait, a father burning his child's face is NOT normal????" Co-parenting my ass.

"Bed/bison sharing. Very unsibling like"

Katara literally shares the bed/Appa with Sokka during the entire Blue Spirit episode. And like this person pointed out themselves, the Gaang shares "a bed" and sleep next to each other all the time. Be thrilled that your OTP is having a moment that you could re-imagine as romantic, but let's not pretend any kind of intimacy MUST be sexual/romantic in nature.

"The scene of Katara comforting Zuko has parallels with his first scene with Mai at the start of the season"

This one was totally okay until the bullshit of "Mai's kiss and hug didn't help Zuko feel better at all and after this he shuts her out." During all of Nightmares And Daydreams we see him cuddling with her, Mai trying to cheer him up, and him even confessing his inner-turmoil about having to essentially put on an act to please Ozai.

She grew a lot as a character and Zuko didn't take her joke in that first episode to heart. He is doing the exact opposite of shutting her out, he actively turns to her for comfort.

"The physical distance between them shrunk"

Yes, and? Seriously, what about it? Is there a line missing here? Am I not seeing something? WHAT IS GOING ON?

"The lightning to the heart feels like a romantic scene"

I was gonna let it slide, like I was doing with all the others "This could work for a romantic relationship, but it's not inherently romantic", but that last line I just can't stand by. DRAMA IS NOT THE SAME AS ROMANCE.

"The simmilar scene for a canon ship doesn't have the same focus on the hands as this one does"

Hand-close ups are exclusive to married people, it is known *rolls eyes*

"It looks like they're about to kiss"

Bruh, what? Looking up at someone who is looking down at you is like leaning in for a kiss?

"Many of these scenes (not the ship-baiting ones obviously) could have been written, framed, animated in a purely platonic way, giving it more of a playful sibling vibe, but the creators deliberately chose overtly romantic or at least ambiguous tones"

#anti zutara

[hann01]

Dear Dad

I really didn’t like you very much my whole childhood. You were harsh to me, more than my sisters. You were strict, and irrational. I resented you for it. I was not sad when you and mom got divorced, I was relieved to have you off my back. As I’ve gotten older and I’ve ben able to look back with a clear view, not tainted with teenage disdain. 

We actually didn’t have it too bad. Maybe it’s my newly found optimism, and fully developed frontal lobe. One of my earliest memories was going into first grade. I walked into the classroom as if I was walking all alone into a foreign country and sat down in my desk by the window, ready for another school year. When you came up to the window and tapped on it, waved, and said “I love you.” I said it back. You did this every morning for the whole school year. You never missed a day. 

We spent many trips to the Alberton Gorge together, whether it was with my sisters or just us. It must have been the freedom of sleeping on a tent in a field, looking up at a full night sky of stars, that put us at ease. We were always similar like that. We would go head to head at home, but not here. We were free from the anxieties of life that turned us against each other.

Somebody once asked me what the worst pain I have felt that wasn’t physical. In truth, I couldn’t think of anything groundbreaking. Possibly my stoner boyfriend in high school cheating on me. Could be watching people die slow and gruesome deaths in the ICU at my first nursing job. But after some contemplation, I think the word non-physical pain I ever felt was when you told me your step father used to take you into your basement and beat you up as a kid. When you told me this, my heart broke. You said you had never told anyone that. You were no longer my strict father with a tendency to let anger get the best of him. You were a scared kid. You were a human, going through life for the first time, just as I am. I really stopped remembering all of the bad things after that. I try to remember all of the good things. Because even though we didn't see eye to eye, you never turned into your step father. You were strict because you loved me, and maybe in some asinine way, you saw a little of your kid self in me. You wanted to protect him, the way you weren’t. I’m not sure if I could ever forgive someone who did that to me, and I never had the courage asked if you did. 

For some reason, you know me better than anyone else. You understand this fire in my heart that is constantly burning. When confiding in you that I hate myself because I want to break up with my nearly perfect boyfriend, your words were the most real than all the others I consulted. You said you broke up with your girlfriend in Chicago because you couldn’t commit to her. That you didn’t even want to do it, you just knew you had to. I could feel the pain in your voice. I could feel the ache in your heart over the phone. It reminded me of a time back in college. We hadn’t seen each other in over a year, because you moved to Chicago. While I did feel slightly abandoned, we still talked a lot, even though you weren’t really talking to my sisters. I was 18 and just started college, and your problems were the least of my concerns. When I saw you, it looked like you had aged 10 years in just 1. You had tired eyes. Like you just sailed across an angry sea, barely making it out alive. Your mom and sister both died in that year, and I hadn't really thought about it much, selfishly. In a weird way, part of you had died too. You were broken. I’m not sure what changed in you, but you were more gentle after that. You did whatever you needed to ensure my sisters and I were cared for. You came to almost every one of my volleyball games, and provided a constant support system for me. When I told you I couldn’t afford rent, you paid it without hesitation and then sent me money every single month after that. On certain occasions, mostly when we are driving just listening to music, I can feel you missing them, or just trying to talk to them. Especially when we take a short break from listening to my rap music and play your music. You always play “If I could Only Fly” by myrle haggard. I pretend to not care about the dismal tune, and occupy myself. But I can see you calling to them: “If I could only fly, If I could only fly, I’d bid this place goodbye, to come and be with you.”

I want you to know that I love you, and that you have been my best friend over the ups and downs of life. Getting older is so odd to me, because of how your life changes, and how the chapters of your life end as swift as they began. I used to think that I was always at the peak of my story, or that a single chapter was the whole book. It was all or nothing. But as the days turned into months and the have months into years, I realize that all of my troubles were just the beginning chapters. Like how I was devastated after getting into my first fist fight. But in typical John fashion, you were proud. When we had to go to court and contest my misdemeanor assault charge, I was riddled with anxiety. You made me feel so much better when you said “My daughters first time going to court for assault, like father like daughter!” Now we just look back and laugh.

You always say we travel well together. The last few months have been worrisome for me because you have been getting your affairs in order, saying “My family dies young.” I laughed it off and said “good thing moms side of the family lives forever.” But whenever that time comes, just know I’ll remember all of our amazing times together. However, I would like it if you could stick around for a while longer. One of the best memories is being our road trip to Denver for my cousins wedding. It seemed that our theme song was “Me and Bobby McGee” by Kris Kristofferson. We sang and sang the whole drive. “Freedom’s just another word for nothin left to lose, nothing ain’t worth nothin, but its free. Feeling good was easy, Lord, when Bobby sang the blues. Feeling good was good enough for me. Good enough for and Bobby McGee.”

I don’t know much but I know that we are connected beyond this physical realm, and that we always will be. Maybe in another life I’m the dad and you're the kid, and I have to get beat up by my stepfather. God that’s going to suck.

I love you, dad. 

-H

[doebt]

and everytime i recount one of these traumatic events i just feel more and more hopeless. im getting really very good at pretending to be normal, ive spent my entire life practicing it, but ik im not and ik i never will be, not even close..and i just have to live with it and hope that at least a few people in the world will treat me well in spite of it??? wtf

#and so much of it is surfacing lately and i guess #its like im realising how bad it was #i guess ive been 'realising how bad it was' for a long time now but i just keep realising it more and more #and remembering more and more #like when my dad would hold me against the bathroom wall with 1 arm pressed against my neck #so he could do his little dermatological surgeries (read: sticking needles into individual pores to 'get everything out') #and lock me in my room for the entire day afterwards bc i would cry and scream so much #or all the times in the car w my mom when she would pass out at the wheel and drive us into those shallow roadside ditches #everytime was just as terrifying as the last #and those are 2 relatively small (in the big picture) things but #they still affect me like...so much #like...more than they should #and then i get so...self absorbed about it #and i have this burning resentment in my heart for anyone who had a childhood that was anything less than miserable and traumatic #which i hate bc that isnt like. in my nature at all..i really hate it and i do suppress it and fight against it but its still there #its like i just wallow in self pity all the time. everytime i think about it (which is...all the time) #even though ik soooo many people have it sooo much worse and i really have a lot going for me #and its in the past anyway so why even bother thinking about it anymore #but i cant stopppp

[tj-wrote-things]

𝐇𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝗼

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Grisha!reader

Based off of this ask

A/N- Hey besties, this is kinda late,, and i hate it but only a little bit. Can you guys like -stop requesting arguments??? pls its breaking my heart.

Mega thanks to @itisroe e for being my editor and shoulder to whine on :)

*Id like to take a moment to say that Nikolai is a bit of a dick in this one, and id like to reiterate that its never okay to invalidate or insult a so. I dont condone that type of behavior, im just writing it

enjoy:)

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If there was one thing Nikolai Lantsov knew how to do, it was pout. You caught him— more than just a few times— slouched over on the blush red couch with his arms crossed, face smushed into a scowl as he studied you packing your bag.

You sighed, casting an increasingly irritated glance at him as you folded the coarse cloth of your winter coat and tucked it away with the rest of your belongings. The weight would be too much to bear, but you knew it would be cold up north where you were headed alongside Zoya and the Bataars. 

“I’m leaving at dawn, whether you like it or not, Sobachka.” 

The King looked away briefly at your words, hating understanding that you were right. He hauled himself out of his seat and redirected his sulking to the world outside the large window. It was beautifully blanketed in steadily falling snow. 

“Will you really make our last night together a bitter one?” you commented.

“It wouldn’t be our last night if you’d just let me come with you,” Nikolai huffed. 

You exhaled, dreading that this would be the third time you had this discussion, which, in his world, was more so a debate.

The reason was simple: Nikolai had no business accompanying them. The objective of the mission to Fjerda was a peace treaty between the Drüskelle and the Grisha populous. As Nikolai fit neither category, it had been decided that he would stay back and continue to hold the country together.

“We’ve been through this: to bring more people on the expedition would only irritate the Fjerdans. Especially, the king of a country with which they’ve been at war for a considerable amount of time,” you reiterated. 

Nikolai shook his head again, unwilling to accept it. He refused to welcome the fact that the love of his long life would be away and in perpetual danger for weeks. 

The wind whistled as it bounded against the window, filling the room with a violent creaking.

“It’s dangerous, Y/N, why can you not understand—” 

You cut him off swiftly as his voice began to rise, “You watch that tone, Lantsov, or I’ll—” 

Now, it was Nikolai’s turn to cut you off: “You’ll what? Leave early?” The young man turned to you from the window and met your incredulous gaze. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. We both know it's your only vice.”

“My only vice,” you mocked cynically. “In what regard?” 

Nikolai spread his arms patronizingly as if he were explaining the obvious to his childhood self.

“Your heart craves adulation,” he said, pointing a sharp, accusatory finger your way. “You’ll take any opportunity to leave Os Alta— leave me— and flaunt your gifts.” 

Your heart thudded heavily in your chest. In anger or despair, you could not tell.

You would not lie to yourself. You knew with all your heart that, all things considered, your mastery of the Small Science was a blessing, hidden behind the mask of a devil. In the days you served faithfully in the Second Army, your gifts were revered and you were respected in the highest regard amongst your Grisha peers. However, in the years following the war, you became like everybody else. 

It was at the behest of your husband that you progressively began to use your power as an Inferni less as the days passed. Ever the political mastermind, he had approached you one summer evening and begged you refrain from using your power in public, claiming that the presence of a Grisha Queen was too much for his fragile country to bear. In the beginning, you had agreed, for if there was one thing that surpassed your love for your husband, it was your shared love for Ravka.

You knew that relations between the Grisha and the others were strained, and so you agreed, taking your husband's hand and promising to limit the displays of glowing orange flames which had burned your enemies as well as warmed the hands of your allies. 

It was becoming increasingly difficult to train behind a closed gate, under a roof, beneath the watchful eye of First Army guards armed with fire extinguishers. In fact, it had grown so stifling you had begun to resemble Alina Starkov when first she came to the Little Palace, with her pallor skin and brittle locks.

You brushed the aforementioned hair, now soft and healthy from the effects of tailoring, behind your ear as you placed the brush down and sharpened your stare at Nikolai’s face, shrouded in silver shadows from the icy light of the moon.

“Craves adulation,” you grumbled, knowing that if your voice rose any higher, it would betray every emotion storming around your heart. “Have a look in the mirror, Nikolai, and tell me which of us truly fits your description.”

His description, in all its insulting glory, fit Nikolai Lantsov to the tee.

Nikolai Lantsov, who would smile and wave to a crowd with a Sun Summoner on his arm, allowing you to watch with disdain from your place on a horse beside Mal. Nikolai Lantsov, who would hide behind a pair of gloves to escape the truth of what he had become. Nikolai Lantsov, who had pushed his wife into a state of sickness, albeit unknowingly, sacrificing her life’s blood for the sake of his country.

Nikolai Lantsov, who resolutely shook his head, running a hand through the already dishevelled hair on his head, before waving it dismissively, as if swatting a fly. “Please. You’d flick your hands for anyone who’d ask— if they clapped hard enough.” Nikolai moved for the bookshelf, drawing out a novel as if his words were mere small talk with an old friend.

Your anger blurred to shock. “Flick my hands—”

“Honestly, you take every opportunity to flaunt it. I’m surprised the Little Palace is still standing after having you inside for twenty years!” 

There was no sense to his vile declarations now. Though, Nikolai could not see it. The anger, betrayal, and frustration at being left behind were all that clouded his boyish mind as he hurled one unkind word after the other.

“Nikolai,” You moved towards him, arm outstretched, eyes beginning to water. “Lapushka, please—” As your hand approached his, the storm heavier than ever. He wrenched his arm away from you, leering his head back to look you in the eyes.

“Truly, I can’t be sure why you haven’t left already.”

“For saints’ sake, Nikolai. Look at me!”

The dam broke as you flicked your hands, removing the tailoring to your appearance, unveiling the truth of your restrictions.

Nikolai stared with an open mouth and hard eyes as the warm winter flush of your cheeks was replaced with dulled skin, and the sleek shine of your hair was redefined with a brittle and unkempt bush.

“The only person from whom I crave adulation,” you whispered, “is the only man who’s too thick to look past a wavering mask.”

The Lantsov King swallowed, flipping the book restlessly in his hands. “Y/N—”

“Get out.” You left no room for him to argue, even when he opened his mouth once more. “I said leave!” You stalked to the door, pulling it open with a loud shriek of wood. “Now.”

Nikolai Lantsov, who spent the night in a guest room, in a state of perpetual regret.

No amount of tossing and turning brought any comfort to his aching heart, nor his pounding head. He flopped halfheartedly in the guest bed, stiff from lack of use, and from lack of you, revisiting the disgusting words he’d spat. The reason for them, however unjustified, sat heavily on his chest, suffocating him at an agonizing rate.

Nikolai Lantsov, who was afraid that— like his mother and father— you would grow to resent his blood, resent it for its stark difference to yours. The fear that you would  regret your marriage to what your people called an otkazat’sya: the abandoned.

The King figured it was only a matter of time before the title served him fully. 

It was reasonable, wasn’t it? To lash out at a time of vulnerability? Nikolai couldn’t be sure, having grown up in a family of despots who had never given him the time of day when it mattered most. 

Watching the tailored facade fall from his wife’s face, Nikolai was reminded solely of his mother, who, like you, was coerced into moulding her face into that of the perfect queen, at the behest of her husband. He knew then that all he had said and done was wrong. Wrong to her, and wrong to her people.

How could he bring himself to apologize? To walk into their bedroom and beg forgiveness? Would she forgive him? Even if he stooped— a king in tears and on his knees for the woman he loved perhaps more ardently than the country he vowed to govern— would she, in all her scorned glory, crouch beside him, take his face in her hands, and kiss away his regret?

Could he expect her to?

Dawn came around all too swiftly, rousing husband and wife from their fitful sleep in separate rooms, and with it came your departure to the northern lands.

You stood side-by-side with Nikolai as the carriages were loaded with provisions, luggage, and gifts for the Drüskelle, refusing to look at him. Instead, digging fruitlessly in your shoulder bag as an excuse to keep your head down.

The call came from the footman as the time arrived for you to leave. You didn’t make it more than one step forward with your hand gripping the leather strap of your bag before a firm grasp was on your waist.

“Wait,” whispered Nikolai, tugging you back. He cast a glance at the guard, letting him know that they would need a moment. “I can’t let you leave— not like this.” 

You held your gaze to the floor. Gently, he tilted your head back up with his thumb and forefinger. “Not now, not when you can barely look at me,” he continued. You held his stare as his hand shifted tentatively towards your jaw. “Not when I can’t be sure you won't come back to me, Milaya.”

You sniffled softly at the nickname, moving your own hand to his face and pausing to tuck away a loose golden curl.

“Please come back to me,” he said softly as if he were sharing a secret. There was an unspoken apology apparent in his reddening eyes while the seconds ticked by.

“Of course,” you murmured back, tipping his head down as you pecked his brow, then his cheek. “Nikolai, there’s not a thing in this world that could keep me away from you.”

You kissed him soundly, your hand running across the expanse of his jaw as he leaned into the tender forgiveness settled in your palm. When you broke apart, Nikolai took your hand from his face. He kissed your palm and walked you to your carriage. The King watched with concerned eyes as you took your seat.

Nikolai kissed your hand once more from his place on the ground and looked up at you. “Swear you’ll write,” he said. “Or I’ll crash the proceedings.”

You barked a hearty laugh, squeezing his hand as he tried to let you go. “I will,” you promised. “And I’ll see you when I come back.”

It was another moment before you let go of his hand. His palm hit the carriage door bearing the Lantsov crest. You watched as the carriage travelled further and further away, Nikolai’s frame disappearing into the horizon. 

“I promise,” you whispered.

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#grishaverse #nikolai lantsov x reader #fanfiction #nikolai lantsov #seige and storm #will graham #ruin and rising #shadow and bone #x reader #squaller #corporalnik #etherialki #heartrender #fluff #angst #will graham x reader #materialki #mal oretsev #zoya nazyanelsky #alina starkov #tamar kir bataar #tolya yul bataar #tolya and tamar

[jeojahari]

03 | kiss it better | myg

🠒 summary: you're one of the lucky ones, everyone else tells you. finding your soulmate the day you turn 18 isn't something that happens to a lot of people... but you and your other half are going to have to make a lot of progress to be able to tolerate each other.

or, you and yoongi can feel everything the other feels, and you're hell bent on causing each other pain.

🠒 pairing: yoongi x reader

🠒 genre: angst, fluff, e2l!au, soulmates!au, college au, crack?

🠒 warnings: profanity, implied smut

🠒 word count: 1.9K

🠒 notes: Y'ALL i can't with you guys thank you so much oh my gosh 🥺❤️❤️ thank you so much for sticking with this! *is very honored and touched* hope you enjoy this chapter :D

also! from here on out i'm going to start putting in parts from yoongi's pov too so y'all can get an idea of what's going on in his head c:

also, just a little shout out to an anon whom i got a very comforting, uplifting message from... thank you so much anon! this part is going to be last-minute dedicated to you ❤️❤️

part 03: three roses

series m. list

Yoongi’s only met you two days ago, and yet he can’t get you off his mind.

“It’s probably just a soulmate thing,” his roommate tells him, typing away at his laptop — the paper is due in half an hour, and he is rushing to get it done. Procrastination has time and again proven to be a horrible habit, but he never does let go of it.. “Regardless of how you feel about her, the universe decides who you’re stuck with.”

“It’s not like that, Jin,” Yoongi groans. “I’m not saying I don’t ever want to be with her. I’m saying it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot, if she would just let it happen.”

Jin spins around on his chair, giving his friend a curious look. “What did you even say the first time you met her that made her hate you this much?”

“I, um.” Yoongi shifts around, suddenly aware of how cold he must have seemed to you that day, way before you turned eighteen and knew what the future was to hold. “Told her not to waste oxygen. And left.”

“Wow. So in a nutshell, you fucked up.”

“I did.”

“And she hates you for being an antisocial grump.”

“I’m not! But yes, she does.”

Jin proceeds to take another sip from his mug of (now cold) tea, deep in thought. “You gonna tell me who the mystery girl is?”

“Park Y/N,” Yoongi winces as he says your name, not liking the way it easily rolls off his tongue, or the kaleidoscope of butterflies it sets off in his stomach — or the way his heart seems to skip a beat at the thought of you. He doesn’t want it to, but what can he do? “You know, the one who rooms with Park Jimin from the arts department. They’re not related, though.”

“The Y/N who has an impossibly obvious crush on Jimin’s cousin? Taehyung, right?”

Yoongi chuckles, staring at the blank white wall. “I’m pretty sure there’s only one Y/N in this entire school, but yes. That’s her.”

“So you two don’t get along and she has a thing for another guy. Man, the universe really fucked up, didn’t it?”

“And you’re not helping right now,” Yoongi scoffs, scribbling down another abstract equation on his paper. “The goal is not to make her fall in love with me, dumbass.”

“But that’s precisely what the goal is! She falls in love with you, you date, get married, have kids, you know the deal. Happily ever after.”

“I think you’re forgetting the part about me not liking her at all.”

“That can change, can’t it?” Jin swivels around in his chair, eyes wide and hopeful. “What’s stopping you from falling head over heels for her a week or so from now? You two are already bound; it can’t be that hard.”

Yoongi presses his pen to the paper again, but a sharp stinging sensation makes him flinch backwards, curling his index finger inward. “Stupid,” he mutters, wincing. “Y/N seriously has a thing for giving herself paper cuts on the daily.”

“See?” Jin grins widely, feeling very accomplished for no reason at all. “You’re already worried about her well-being!”

“The only reason I even care is because I feel it too!” Seconds later, another twinge of pain comes, this time shooting through his head. “Ow,” he groans, frustrated. “Really? Are we seriously going back to this now? What’s she doing this time, banging her head on the wall to get on my nerves?”

Jin drains the rest of tea in one gulp, side-eyeing the shorter male from his spot at the desk. “Figure it out, my guy,” he says under his breath. Whether he likes it or not, he’s concerned about his friend — though he knows that if he brings it up, Yoongi’s only going to chide him for being so worried. “Second chances don’t come often. Don’t screw this one up.”

The study group meets again (is this a daily thing now?), and much to Yoongi’s surprise, you’re there without fail, squeezed in between Jimin and another guy he doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. As Taehyung grabs his hand and yanks him down onto the bench, he notices the slightly pissed off glare you send him, too tired to return one of his own.

No one speaks, and it’s strange. It’s awfully awkward; usually Taehyung and Jungkook would be arguing over something stupid, and there would be yelling… but now, there is only complete silence, save for the rustling of pages and the occasional cough from Namjoon.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers from his left after a few minutes, nudging his elbow as a greeting. “How come you’re not sitting with Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“Aren’t you two supposed to be together?” Ah, right. Once again, Yoongi curses fate’s horrible decision making skills, sending another why me? plea to the heavens.

“It’s fine,” he brushes it off instead, sorting through his books. He’s trying not to look like it affects him, but he’s always been rather terrible at hiding his frustration. “She has Jimin and that other dude anyways.”

Jungkook doesn’t look convinced. In fact, he sees right through the half-hearted lie. “You want to sit next to her,” he deduces quickly. “But you’re not. You two fought or something?”

“What would you know,” Yoongi mutters, irritated. “Of all people.”

Jungkook frowns slightly, but the merry twinkle doesn’t leave his eyes, the trademark of a person who’s just happy to live life. “What do you mean? I’m very experienced in these things, I’ll have you know.”

“Right, because fucking a different girl each night is your way of showing off your expertise.”

“Yoongi, I’m trying to help you. You two aren’t the best at covering up; we know you hate each other’s guts,” he sighs. “You need to talk to her, patch it up, do something—”

“Shut up,” Yoongi snaps sharply, thoughts distorted. His cantankerous mood is rising now, only worsening with every word he hears. “Shut up, Jungkook. You don’t fucking know anything.” His voice is loud enough to catch the attention of everyone else at the table, and he’s well aware of your worried eyes on him. “Stop trying to educate me on this bullshit called romance when all you fucking do is sleep around!”

The weight of his words hit Jungkook hard, and it’s written all over his face, shock and something like sorrow in his expression. Yoongi regrets it as soon as he says it, immediately wishing he could take it all back — but he doesn’t, because the anger, the pain, the empty, hollow feeling of having his soulmate near but unable to love her… it’s eating away at him.

Then he hears your voice, soft and gentle in contrast to his own, and it almost grounds him, calms the storm inside his head. Almost, except for the fact that your words are just as harsh, stinging him far more than expected. “You’re such an asshole,” you say, giving him nothing but a stare he can’t comprehend.

“Y/N—”

“Jungkook can do what he wants; he’s an adult and he’s not harming anyone. His actions do not justify yours,” you spit, the resent clear in the way you speak to him.

Have you always hated him so much?

“And neither of us have been particularly great about this, but you had no right to say that to him,” you continue, glowering. The rest of the table just sits there as you talk, still processing what just happened. “You fucking jerk.”

There’s a lot Yoongi wants to say to you. Explain. Redeem himself. Apologize, maybe, if you’ll let him — but he knows you won’t. It’s one of the things he’s picked up on in two days; you won’t listen to reason when you’re pissed off, and right now you’re certainly in no position to hear him out.

“Okay,” he mutters instead, rising from his seat and earning a worried look from Taehyung. He gives you one last look before he forces himself to look away, your heated gaze burning into him. “I’ll leave first, then.”

Jungkook left almost immediately after, and the rest of the group quickly followed suit. Now, you’re cozied up on the couch with a cup of green tea while Jimin works on what he couldn’t finish earlier, sitting beside you.

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “At least now you know that he’s somewhat invested in whatever’s between you two, if Jungkook was trying to give him advice.”

“That’s just Jungkook being invested,” you grumble. “Not Yoongi. The guy doesn’t even look like he cares.”

“Do you?”

The question makes you stop and think. Do you? Do you care enough to try? Growing up, you’d so strongly believed that love was only ever a temporary thing; it never stayed long enough to blossom into something beautiful the way it was portrayed in the media. You had always been surrounded by the dark side of this seemingly magical emotion, listening to your mother’s crying late at night when she thought you were asleep, to the point where you’d sworn it off.

But something in you wants to question it. You want to shatter that ominous what if, throw off the shadows of your own childhood and grow into something more, be able to experience the magic firsthand.

And really, Yoongi’s a fucking asshole and you’re still mad at him. But one day… maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. Give him a try, a chance.

Still, it’s a “no” that you answer Jimin with, lying through your teeth. He doesn’t say anything, just humming a single note in response, his right hand doodling something mindlessly on your skin with one of his black ink pens. When he pulls away a minute later, there are three dainty roses resting in the valley between your thumb and index finger, clustered together in a bunch.

You hate roses. They do nothing but remind you of the one thing that hurt you the most.

“You know,” he says after a while, “I think you’re being a bit childish about this whole thing. Y/N, you two are acting like you’re in some kind of high school drama. You say you don’t like him, but for what? His coffee addiction and his personality?”

“You’re just making it sound worse than it really is…”

“No,” he presses, turning to face you directly. “I’m serious. You’re my best friend and I want to see you happy. Not you screwing this all up. People have differences, it’s normal.”

“It’s not about that—”

Jimin takes your hand, tapping it twice and then rapping his knuckles against the side of your head. “Y/N, you wonderful idiot. You don’t hate him. You’re just desperately searching for reasons to hate him.” His eyes soften. “I know you don’t like this because of how your parents ended up, but not everyone's the same. You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

“I—” You stop for a second, a bit on edge. “I don’t like this, Jimin,” you say truthfully. You’ve always known it was bound to happen someday, but… the way your heart races around Yoongi and aches when he’s away both bothers and excites you, afraid at the prospect of more but still tempted to see what the future holds. And you can’t decide on either one.

“There you go. What were you waiting for?” he laughs, bringing you in for a comforting hug. “Now you’ve just got to do something about it.”

taglist: @meiadore @kimnamjoonluvbot @im-gay-no-matter-who-i-date @fangirl125reader @helenazbmrskai @min-yus @janeelizabeth1216 @chimchiekookie @chimchoom @igotnotype @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @loveyoongles @ggukkieland @music-is-my-middle-name @secretlycrazyhummingbird @halesandy @moonchild1

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#yoongi #yoongi soulmate au #yoongi enemies to lovers #yoongi college au #bts #bts fanfiction #bts college au #bts soulmate au #bts enemies to lovers #fluff #angst #crack?? idk #yoongi series #mine #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #part 3

[tokoyamisstuff]

Tender Ch. 2 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Winning the favour of the God of Mischief is not an easy task - even if he has already fallen for you.

Warnings: None.

Words: ~1600

A/N: Since I am writing several Series at once, together with Oneshots in between, the chapters are gonna be a bit shorter so I keep no one waiting. Hope that is alright!

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza​ @queenariesofnarnia​​ @commonintrest​​ @buckylokisimp​ @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @lxdyred @frostay​​​​

The first weeks after your arrival at the Avengers Compound passed by rather uneventful.

Due to the fact that you neither had a family you could be attached to, nor many belongings ever since HYDRA had kidnapped you and destroyed your home, Tony insisted on you living at the tower - like many of the other members as well.

Everything was just so new and exciting, not even Loki’s gleeful mockery could bring you down from that high.

Little did you know that all of his pep talks about those ‘inferior heros’, the ‘illusion of power’ or how no one was ever truly good or evil had a completely different reason:

An attempt to get you to leave, for your own good. After everything that had happened to you, the god was worried how another fight would affect you.

Anyway, it was a luxurious life compared to your old one, with so many kind persons and new perspectives. And you were sure to return that favor once you’d learn to control your powers!

So until then, you would train as hard as possible and care for your new friends through little acts of service. Caring for others came quite natural to you, may it be listening to their problems or simply complimenting them to see their faces brighten up.

And for some reason, that particular character trait was the one thing Loki found the most annoying.

How could a person so naive and pure think they could actually join in battles against evil? You’ll only end up getting yourself killed - and to be honest, Loki thought this to be a waste.

And even though he’d never admit it, but jealousy was starting to get the better of him the more he observed you getting along with everyone.

They adored you - and they were very right in doing so!

But that would mean that you were just nice to everyone, not especially to him, right?

Every time you’d help Bucky through a panic attack, braided Thor’s hair or helped Banner in the laboratory, Loki only wished you’d be with him instead - and if he had to burn this whole place to the ground for this to happen.

Yet his pride kept him from voicing that desire.

For you on the other hand, it was frustratingly hard to get through to the God of Mischief. In comparison to how he treated the other Avengers, he was always reserved and courteous towards you, yet also unreachable distanced.

Only on a weekend where the other Avengers were on a mission, the two of you found a way to actually bond with each other, if only a little.

Loki had once again read every book he borrowed from Stark’s library, now having a reason to leave his room again. At least those subhumans won’t be there to drain on his nerves...

When he crossed the living room on his way to the elevator, he blinked heavily as he saw you plainly chilling on the sofa. He was just about to turn around and leave, when you hectically gestured for him to stay.

“Hey, Loki! 😊” you wrote on a notepad, holding it up for him to read.

“Greetings...” he spoke between gritted teeth, but your smile wouldn’t falter, so he stood rooted in the middle of the room.

“Do you want to watch a movie together?” How blunt could you be to ask a literal god directly, just like that?!

“Actually, I-” When your eyes met, Loki cut himself off, the words being caught in his throat. “Well, if you’re in dire need of my sublime company...”

You were quick to sit up straight, offering a bowl with popcorn to the Odinson which he curiously accepted. When he answered your question about what sweets they eat on Asgard, he wouldn’t understand why you’d laugh. Apparently ‘nuts and grapes’ are not considered treats on earth. Got it.

Yet that little huff you blew out of your nose instead of making an actual laughing sound came somewhat endearing to him, especially in contrast to your other noisy companions. “Adorable...”

Without even asking first, you’d wrap the other half of the blanket around Loki, effectively closing the gap between you two.

“Wha- I’m not cold!” he blurted out, visibly overchallenged by the sudden closeness. “I’m a Jotun, hel!”

What was he even so worked up about? Geeze...

“But the weather on Asgard is rather humid, right?” you wrote down, with him nodding approvingly. "It allows all kinds of flowers to blossom, other than this metal brick” he explained, your excited look not failing to keep him talking. “You should see it some time.”

Loki’s eyes were now locked on the screen, and you could basically grasp his homesicknes, very well aware that a failure and war criminal like him would never be tolerated in those holy grounds ever again.

Great...now you had achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tugged on his arm so he’d shift your attention to you again, quickly writing something with a barely there sulk on your face:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you sad.”

Tears were already forming on the rim of your eyes, making Loki’s insides churn. “So sensitive...gods. Keep yourself together, would you.”

The Odinson instinctively wrapped an arm around you, his free hand petting your head as he pulled it to his chest. He was awfully warm for a frost giant, and his heart was hammering against his chest in a fastened pace - maybe just your imagination, though.

“Well, it’s winter...” he uttered, acting as if he actually cared about the plot of the movie. “I may not freeze, but you seemed cold. That’s all.”

You let your hand run across his collarbone, making him look down to you once again. He bit his lip as his icy glare met your warm one, eyes shimmering with earnest affection while you formed silent words with your lips:

“T-h-a-n-k y-o-u.”

“N-no need to thank me.” Just now Loki wondered what kind of spell you were using on him, being reduced to a shaking and stuttering mess.

No curse, no beauty ever before had bewitched him so much that he would lose his cool, let anyone peek under his confident mask, after all.

Not so long ago, when he was still considered the handsome Prince of Asgard, he would bed a different lover on each night, though never settling for anyone.

And after the revelation of his true heritage, even those fleeting encounters to ease his loneliness would falter - all that’s left was certainty that the theory he had ever since his childhood had proven to be true: 

That everyone had always secretly despised him, the failure of the family and disgrace to all of Asgard. Only through his Jotun blood they had found a reason to not play along with the royal courtesy anymore, showing their resentment up in the open.

But you...you looked at him with completely different eyes than anyone ever did.

Maybe he had become softer, weaker over time - or simply more mature. His mother once told him to seize the moment when someone truly special would cross his way, and to never let them go.

“We could do this more often.” You shoved the notepad in his line of sight, and just now he noticed that two hours had sure passed in an incredible speed.

Just the two of you, cuddled up on the sofa, enjoying each other’s presence instead of dealing with the troublesome past.

“Well...” Loki clawed into your upper arm softly, no intention of letting you out of his grasp already. “I am sure your other companions are more fun to be around. As you most likely already noticed, I am known for ruining the mood.”

Loki had a habit of talking ill about himself, and letting himself down as well. Yet as he saw you eagerly scribble on the notepad, he knit his brows together, impatient to what you’d say next.

“But I want to see you.” The word ‘you’ was written in a thicker font, underlined several times.

“Why?”, that was the first and only thing crossing his mind. And yet there you sat, shoving the notepad into his face with a stern look on your face.

Loki was rooted on spot as you put the notepad on the table, instead laying your hands on his cheeks and softly tugging on the edge of his lips. “S-m-i-l-e!”

“E-enough!” he carefully pushed your hands away, afraid you’d detect the mild blush on his face. “Then it shall be. What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want.”

Loki finally arrived at the library to return his books, even though with a few hours delay. Realizing just how much he had enjoyed that spontaneous meeting with you, he began to panic.

Was it really a good idea to repeat this?

He was almost 100% certain that it would only end in him ruining your trust in anyone completely, if he’d ever allow you to come close to his core.

Due to him having saved you back then, you probably see him as something better than he actually was - and gods, how disappointed you’ll be once you’d find out what he really is like...

It was probably for the best if this would never happen, with him just keeping on to admire you from afar...

After a while of just staring into the void, mentally debating about your offer, he couldn’t help the fact that he was already looking forwards to meeting you again.

Uncertain how to approach the matter, Loki was at least eager to show you his goodwill.

For you have been the first person who - despite everything he had done - was willing to give him another chance.

"Greetings. I need every available book about sign language.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki / Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki / You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #God of Mischief #Marvel #Disney #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert

[jae-daddy]

Red Rose (5)

jaebum mafia series 

one / two / three / four / five 

masterlist 

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: mafia, angst, romance, mature plot: im jaebum was your first love in university, but then disappeared, and now he’s back and he is a mafia leader? a/n: im so excited to write this story! i hope yall enjoy it too! not edited <3

You smiled at the dark-haired boy juggling the armful of snacks towards you. You get up, running over to him and helping him place everything onto the picnic mat.

“This is so much stuff, Jaebum,” you remarked looking at the pile of snacks heaping on the light pink blanket. Jaebum didn’t reply, instead, he reached into the bag he brought during the first run from the car and pulled out cushions and more blankets.

He set three books out for you and plopped himself onto the blanket. He lay a cushion underneath his head but kept a hand underneath his head as his other hand beckoned you towards him, “Come on babe, there are so many clouds today. I bet I can make more animals out of them than you.”

“Expand the category to anything,” you lay on his chest, crossing your ankles as you reached for one of the books he picked out for you. You opened the book, the smell of his cologne flowing through the pages, “And watch me whoop your ass as I read this book.”

Jaebum hummed tauntingly, as he brought his fingers into your hair, running through it gently.

You sighed happily, putting the book down on your stomach and gazed up at the sky. Once again you were reminded of how big this world was, how much bigger it was than your mind could comprehend. You were so small, so insignificant, but at that moment the golden sunshine fluttering in your chest was endless. In that moment, the entire universe was just this; just you and him. His heartbeat gently beating against your neck, your fingers finding their way to his.

There hand in hand, on the pink blanket, under the never-ending sky, you were endlessly happy.

“I don’t understand why we have to do this,” you heard him grumble for the hundredth time. You had let it go the first time, understandingly, but every time he repeated his resentment, every time he complained, the room became hotter. The apartment grew smaller, shrinking close around you; and this was the last straw. You couldn’t do it anymore.

You closed the last of the box from the kitchen and stared at the tall boy who made your living room look like a dollhouse.

Yugyeom looked up closing the final box, his eyes narrowing with irritation. You didn’t say anything and glared back at him.

This little brat was acting as if you were the one making him pack your apartment for you. You were helping him, and you didn’t need his help in the first place. Actually, you wouldn’t have had to move in the first place, but here you were moving out so you don’t get murdered in the middle of your sleep.

It was all Im Jaebum’s decision. Him deciding how to keep you safe, and him deciding to send this tall brat to help you pack up.

“Thank god we’re finished, anymore of your whining and I would have to murder you,” you rolled your eyes at him.

A corner of his red lips lifted as his eyes narrowed further, “You sure are violent for a waitress.”

Your eyes narrowed further at the way he said the waitress. He said it as an insult. As if was beneath him; as if being a waitress made you undeserving of his respect. And he should be respecting you, you had saved his life.

“And you whine like a child for being such a big bad criminal,” you smiled back at him.

Before he could reply, Jinyoung walked back into the apartment getting off the phone, “The movers will be here in fifteen minutes, are we done?”

“We done?” Yugyeom choked staring at Jinyoung. Yugyeom jabbed his tongue against his cheek angrily before muttering, “You didn’t do anything. I did.”

“I packed!” You protested at the same time as Jinyoung.

Yugyeom didn’t skip a beat, he pointed to Jinyoung first, “You have been gone for the past two hours making a phone call. You packed one box in total.” He then turned to you, scowling, “It’s not helping when it is your house. This is your shit-hole of a house, your shit, so you should be doing the packing anyway.”

Jinyoung just cooed, mockingly at the younger boy, “Is our little baby tired?”

“Aww,” you cooed along.

If looks could kill you and Jinyoung would be ten feet underground right now. But he didn’t say anything more and just stomped out of the apartment making you cringe. You were sure your neighbours downstairs would be cursing at the loud noise.

You turned to Jinyoung with a small smile, “Do you want a drink? I got four beers left in the freezer.”

“Why not,” he sighed, settling into the two-seater sofa, in the middle of the living room. You came back, passing him a bottle before sinking into the old sofa next to him.

“This is a really small place,” he commented talking in the apartment. It was small, it was just bigger than the hall you had breakfast in this morning. You hated the colour of the walls, but now that you were leaving you knew you were going to miss the way it clashed with every piece of furniture you ever got.

“It was good enough for me,” you replied, before taking a sip of the beer. You gasped at the old sensation burning down your throat making him turn towards you with raised eyebrows. You just smiled, gesturing to the beer, “It’s so cold and my throat feels so... raw.”

“Well, you did have an eventful past week.”

“Has it really been a week?” You both looked at the murky pink walls.

“Actually, it’s been less than a week.” He answered.

“It feels like it's been a lifetime,” you whispered.

Jinyoung stayed quiet for a few moments before saying, “It'll remain hard for a while until we solve this.”

“I know,” you sighed, taking a sip.

“It does get better though,” he took a sip before adding, “Or at least you get used to it.”

You bit your lip as a question bubbled inside you. You wanted to ask him why they did this if it was so tough. Why did they choose to be criminals when it was so dangerous, when they were getting hurt and hurting others. But you didn’t know if it was your place to ask him that.

Instead, you asked something that was probably equally as stupid, “How do you know Jaebum?”

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled at the question, shaking his head with a wide smile on his face, “JB and I go way back.”

“How back?” You turned towards him, completely interested.

They couldn’t have gone too back, because back then you knew Im Jaebum. And your Im Jaebum used to find the shapes of ducklings in the cloud, not shoot men and get blood splattered all over his suit.

You would’ve known of Jinyoung, in a story or heard his name in passing at the very least. But this was the first time you had heard of him.

Was it after his dad passed away? Was it so traumatic for Jaebum that he joined the wrong crowd?

“Nappies,” Jinyoung snorted, answering your question. “Our parents were friends, so we grew up together. He is my best friend and my boss, but he is my brother first and foremost. We always have each other's backs.”

You didn’t say anything and just stared at him, in confusion. How could he and Jaebum be so close but you never heard of him? No photo of him in his dorm, no appearance in the stories of his childhood he would tell you. It was almost as if Jinyoung had been a ghost for Jaebum in college.

You didn’t have the heart to tell Jinyoung that Jaebum didn’t mention him to you. So, you just continued to stare at him as you took him his dark features.

“All of us, us boys,” Jinyoung took a long sip of the beer. “We are all brothers, we will sacrifice ourselves before letting the other get in harm's way.”

You smiled at that, even though they were a bunch of criminals, “That’s admirable.”

“You’re part of it now,” Jinyoung looked over at you, meeting your eyes with his sparkling ones. “We protect you like one of us now.”

“Just for three months,” you breathed, feeling uncomfortable under his heavy gaze.

Jinyoung nodded slowly, after a long moment he asked, “Will you move back here after it ends?”

“No, I can’t,” you bit your lip, shrugging a shoulder. “There’s no returning policy in this apartment.”

“That’s good then,” he said, making you frown. Jinyoung shot you a loopy smile before he explained, “It’s better to move so no one knows where you live anymore.”

A shiver ran through you at his words. It wasn’t just Marco’s men who could be after you. Certainly, they weren’t the only enemies Jaebum and his mafia had, the others might come after you too if they found out.

How long does this continue? When do you get to get out of here, truly free?

“The movers are here,” Mr Grumpy walked in, taking an unopened beer from between you and Jinyoung and chugging it down, “Fuck’s sake I needed that.”

“Language!” Jinyoung gasped.

//

You sipped from your glass of orange juice and vodka, shimmering your shoulders as you hopped around the room. The rhythm of the happy song wrapped around you as you did a twirl trying to keep the drink from spilling.

Due to the very imminent danger that currently resided over you, you had three weeks off work. A whole month of no working, of no diner, of doing absolutely nothing. Therefore, like every other sane person on basically house arrest, you got tired of spending day after day in your room.

In the past three days, you barely saw anyone. The last time you had seen anyone was Jackson who had come to inform you that you would not be going to work due to security issues. When you asked how they managed to get Randy to agree, he shrugged with a charming smile and said, “We can be very persuasive, waitress.”

It seemed like everyone called you waitress. Well, everyone except Jinyoung and Jaebum. Jinyoung being the gentleman he was called you respectfully by your name, and Jaebum, well, he just didn’t talk to you at all.

After the little meltdown, you sat down with yourself and made a list of all the pros and cons of staying here. The pros included you were safe, you will not get kidnapped or murdered, you would live under the same roof as Jaebum which meant you would run into him, talk to him and maybe, just maybe, everything would go back to normal. Cons were that they, themselves, kill you, use you as a drug mule, and you find out Jaebum remembers but is ignoring you because he despises you.

You groaned at the thought and took another deep chug from the glass in your hand. You were tired of staring at your wall endlessly, so you decided to have a little party by yourself. You went down to the kitchen where the staff were shaking as if you’d pull out a gun and shoot them any second.

You took another drink for that example, trying to drown the nausea bubbling in your stomach.

Don’t think about it, you reminded yourself. If I don’t think about it, it didn’t happen.

You went to the kitchen and the kitchen staff almost shit themselves. You tried to make them feel relaxed, but your anxiousness only made them more on guard and scared. When you asked for a bottle of vodka and orange juice, and chicken nuggets, they were more than happy to please you.

To spell your boredom away you were drinking vodka, eating chicken nuggets, and singing and dancing with your entire soul to your playlist. You walked over to the speaker, cranking it up before playing the next song.

You groaned at how perfect the song was, you welcomed the nostalgia as you spun away from the control. You shimmied towards your plate of chicken nuggets, picking one up and stuffing it into your mouth as you began singing the lyrics.

“Oh god,” suddenly the music was so faint you could barely hear it.

“Oh no, that was the best part!” You groaned, turning around, singing the part with all your heart. The words got stuck in your throat as you saw the familiar boy standing in all black in front of you.

You gave him a toothy grin, as you sighed, happily, “Finally.”

Jaebum stared at you with an unreadable expression.

“Ugh,” you groaned taking him in. It was so unfair, it was so fucking unfair. How the hell did he get hotter over the years, isn’t age supposed to make people not attractive? Im Jaebum was ageing like fine wine, “And I wanna drink all of it.”

You pointed at him, your finger moving in circles despite you standing straight.

Im Jaebum looked like sin in all black. His dark locks messily pushed back, revealing his fucking sexy forehead. His forehead was so sexy, how had you never realised how sexy it was before? Maybe because he didn’t put it up before, your Jaebum had his hair falling over his forehead.

He would feel uncomfortable in the black shirt this Jaebum wore, and the black slacks. Your Jaebum would have been itching to get out of those expensive black dress-shoes and into his converses.

But this Jaebum was stunning. The dark black of midnight stark against his pale skin made his dark features even darker. It made him look more dangerous, stronger, more... angry.

“You’ve had more than enough to drink,” he crossed his arms in front of him. Your gaze followed the way his arms bulged under the black material. You licked your lips as your eyes roamed over him.

He did get a lot fitter than you remembered him. Maybe because he was a man this time around and not a boy.

He was a man though.

Such a typical fucking man, trying to dictate your life. This is exactly what you had seen growing up, a man trying to dominate over the females around him; that alpha male ego bullshit.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” you told him, giving him your best sassy look.

Jaebum didn’t look intimidated. For a brief moment you thought you saw a glimpse of a smile on his lips, but that might have been your imagination. Because all he did was shake his head, his face emotionless and sombre as he replied, “If you have any more, you’ll regret it.”

“So, I’ll be the one regretting it,” you shrugged, walking towards him. You lost your balance but caught yourself. You held up a hand towards Jaebum, who had flinched slightly at your potential fall. You stood up straighter, “I’ll vomit, I’ll have a headache. I’ll be the one to die if those other mafia people kidnap me, what’s it to you?”

“I’m not having any conversation with you in this condition,” he shook his head, grabbing the vodka bottle before walking towards the door.

You frowned, suddenly feeling scared that he’s going to leave. You didn’t want him to go, even if all he did was stand there and glare at you, pretending not to remember you, you wanted him to stay.

“No, you can’t-” you hiccuped, you can’t leave, you wanted to tell him.

Jaebum sighed, looking incredible in his black outfit, as he glanced at the vodka bottle in his hand, “You-”

He let out another exhausted sigh before saying, “I’m taking it for myself. I want to have some.”

You smiled brightly at that.

“Yes! Of course, you can have some!” You sat down in front of the fireplace, beside the table with the chicken nuggets. You gestured to the plate, as the heat of the fire gently hovered over your back, “Here have some chicken nuggets, it tastes exactly like McDonald's with the sauce!”

Before Jaebum could reply you felt yourself falling backwards, but you quickly caught yourself. You let out a little giggle as Jaebum found standing with both his arms out as if he could catch you from across the room.

“I’m good,” you mumbled. You were about to say more but then you started thinking of the picnic that day with Jaebum. No one could’ve predicted it, but one moment you fell asleep under the summer sky only to wake up to a rainstorm.

You felt someone settle next to you. You looked over to find Jaebum, and you smiled brightly, “You came.”

“Of course, I’d always come back to you,” he smiled back brightly.

Jaebum’s frown deepened, making your smile turn upside down.

You watched him in the flames of the fire behind you, and your heart sank, “You don't smile anymore. I haven’t seen you smile since I met you again.”

You reached up and brushed a strand of hair that fell onto his forehead. His bright dark eyes met your drunk gaze, and you frowned this time. You felt tears prickle your eyes as you ran the back of your hand down his cheek, “There is a darkness around you. You walk with it, or it walks with you. Why?”

Why are you so sad?

Why are you here?

What happened to make you like this?

Was it all the people you have hurt? Does it weigh down on you? Does it hurt you thinking about them too?

Did you start as a mistake too? Wrong place, wrong time, and this is your life now?

I understand how you feel. I’m just like you.

I think of those men I’ve shot too. I am just as bad. Does the numbers or intention even matter when the blood on your hands is the same?

“Pew pewpewpew pew,” you aimed your finger gun as you shot different areas of the room. You had shot real humans, you were a shooter. You knew how to use guns. You were dangerous too, you understood Jaebum, “Pew pew.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jaebum stared at you, terrified.

You turned towards him, your eyes heavy as you gave him a close-lipped smile. You lifted up your finger gun and blew the smoke coming out from the shots you just took.

“I am,” you answered, slurring, dangerous, a criminal, bad as just as him, all about the bad life, “Pewpew pew.”

I’ve missed you so much. Your eyes prickled with tears again, making Jaebum’s dark eyes widened at the emotion in your eyes.

“You’re...” your words got lost as you slurred more, finding it harder to say each word. You frowned remembering he wanted to drink but he hadn’t even taken a sip of the alcohol or had any of the chicken nuggets. Don’t you “like chicken nuggets?”

You used to love them before, your bottom lip quivered as a few tears spilt from your eyes. You missed Jaebum, you missed him so much.

You were so happy he was here.

You grabbed his hand and held it tight, before resting your head on your elbow. You’re just going to take a short little- no, not a nap. Just close your eyes for like one second, literally.

“You cried because I’m like chicken nuggets?” was the last thing you heard him whisper before you knocked out.

//

You groaned as you sat on the table the next morning. The sunshine was too bright, the world was spinning, and you felt like throwing up with every step you took. You steadied yourself in your seat, holding your hammering head in your hands as you held back the urge to throw up.

“Someone had a wild night,” Bambam commented getting into his seat.

Yugyeom sat beside him, smirking at your pain, “God, you’re pathetic, waitress.”

“Just because you’re not fun to be with alone doesn’t mean everyone else is too,” Mark came to your rescue sitting on the first chair on the right. Your gaze went to the seat Jaebum would occupy and internally groaned.

Why did you drink so much?

You had said so much; done so much.

Your stomach twisted when the memory of your softly caressing his soft cheek attacked your mind.

Oh, god, you were dead.

This is why you are having breakfast in the hall, and not in your bedroom like the other days.

You turned towards Mark, the hangover taking a backseat at the new terror lodging around you, “Why are we eating here today?”

“We have breakfast together every Thursdays,” he replied, and you eased back into your chair.

So, it wasn't for you. He didn't bring you out in front of everyone to shame you, or to kick you out. It was just a tradition, that’s fine.

No, it was not fine. You still had done and said all those things yesterday.

Omg, did you cry?

You cringed as the memory of the tears spilling from your eyes struck you this time. God, why were you like this?

Before you could curse yourself any longer, the remaining boys walked in. Jinyoung settled next to you giving you a polite smile, as Jackson and Youngjae got into their respective chairs.

You didn’t want to look at Jaebum due to your embarrassing behaviour last night, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your gaze travelled to him and your breath got caught in your chest.

He was so sinfully handsome. He was once again dressed in complete black with his hair pushed back, but a few longer strands flopped forward. He needed a haircut or his hair would no one be able to stay pushed back. But the long strands made him look even more devilish.

Jaebum didn’t glance at you once as he walked towards his seat. He didn’t refer to you or acknowledge your existence all through the breakfast.

None of the others did too, all busy talking about their business and all the things they had to do this week.

You tried to listen to get hints of what kind of businesses they were involved in, but all you heard was white-collar affairs.

“Are you going to get drunk today too?” Youngjae teased when he saw you push around your breakfast.

You glared up at him, and then Yugyeom who matched his mocking smirk. What did these two have against you?

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you retorted. The two rolled their eyes, but it was that little huff of amusement that came from the head of the table that made you freeze.

You turned your surprised eyes over to Jaebum, who tried to cover his chuckle with a cough. His dark gaze met yours, and when he realised you won’t give in and look away, his shoulders slumped slightly as he said, “Well, you have been drinking every day for the past few days.”

“How do you--”

“I know everything that happens in my house,” he cut you off.

The thing is you should be terrified of this Jaebum. You didn’t know what he was capable of. You knew your Jaebum would never hurt you, but you didn’t know the stranger before you. You didn't know what made him tick, what he did to punish or who he even was.

But you stared into his calculating eyes as you replied, “I got carried away yesterday.”

The corner of his lip quirked up ever so lightly as he said, “I could tell.”

You just glared at him as he picked up a chicken nugget from his plate and bit into it, not shifting his eyes from you. That asshole, he made the cooks make chicken nuggets just to mock you about last night. What a little piece of shit, challenging you while eating chicken nuggets.

You hated the way your body reacted to him though. You were supposed to feel anger and rage course through you. But the way he bit into the piece of meat and stared his fiery gaze into your eyes made you feel hot all over. You had never wished to be a chicken nugget more than you did at that moment.

“Maybe,” a voice said beside you, snapping you out from his trance. You turned to find Jinyoung looking over at Jaebum. Jaebum’s attention was on Jinyoung now, silently telling him to continue, “Y/n just needs a break.”

“She is on a break,” Yugyeom snorted.

Jinyoung ignored him and continued, “She has been stuck in her room for the past few days, and will continue to be for a while. You can’t blame her for getting bored and trying to get her mind off things.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Jaebum lifted a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

You turned to Jinyoung, taking in all his beauty as he stood in front of his boss and talked for you. Even without you telling him, somehow, he knew how you felt and how you would certainly lose your sanity if you stayed locked up in there for a moment longer.

You smiled softly at him as he said, “Let her work.”

You rose an eyebrow at Jinyoung asking him what the hell did he mean by letting me. Jinyoung blinked at your reassuringly as he nodded slightly, telling you to trust him.

“No way,” Jackson said, “We’ll have to babysit her there.”

“Fine,” Jinyoung shrugs, turning to Jaebum. “There is an opening in the company, and I hire her.”

“Bullshit-”

“-Is she even qualified?”

“You wouldn’t hire me?!”

Jinyoung clicked his tongue and silence fell over the room. He continued to look at Jaebum and said, “I did a background check on her. She has a business degree from an Ivy League university.”

The same one you went to, you bit your tongue from screaming towards Jaebum.

Well, it wasn't like you wanted the job. But it was better than being stuck here all day.

“She’ll leave soon and we will need a replacement, and it’s important business,” Yugyeom glared at you. “How can we trust that she won’t sell our information to other companies.”

“Ah,” Jinyoug sighed, nodding. You snapped your head towards him, betrayed. How could he do this? Wasn’t he on your side?

“I guess we’ll have to employ her around the house then,” he murmured, you narrowed your eyes at how insincere he sounded. You saw the false lightbulb go over his head, as he acted terribly surprised and exclaimed, “I know! She can help you with the Greenhouse, Jaebum!”

“No!” You both answer at the same time. You meet his gaze as he shoots lasers through them to kill you. You smirked at that and lean back. A smile spread over your lips before nodding enthusiastically at Jinyoung, “Oh that sounds perfect!”

Jinyoung looks down at you, grinning, “That’s settled then! She remains on the property and doesn’t get bored. Perfect.”

“Perfect,” you smirk, staring at the disdained male at the head of the table.

He said he couldn’t remember you.

You stabbed a slice of apple with your fork before chomping a big bite off, let’s see how much longer he can pretend.

#im jaebum #jaebum #lim jaebeom #im jaebeom #jaebeom #jaebum angst #jaebum fluff #jaebum smut #got7 #smut #angst #fluff #fanfic #series #got7 jaebum #got7 jaebeom #got7 smut #got7 angst #got7 mafia #mafia au #jaebum mafia #jaedaddy #red rose #I feel like the story is yet to properly start #and I can't wait for it to #I might just take away the first part I wrote cause it was so weak idk #hope yall like it #much love #not edited

[burnedbyshoto]

I wanted to make myself like the ravine

— There are plenty of things that Hawks knows about, but there are few he knows none about. A journey of how Hawks navigates the meaning of the word love. 

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pairing: hawks (takami keigo) x fem!reader

warnings: recent manga spoilers, future!au, alcohol consumption, fem!reader

word count: 6,819

a/n: this is for the pocuties valentines day collab! rhank you for letting me join! inspired by the poem to the title of this fic!

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A G A P E

—

Hawks is one of the fastest men in the world.

It’s not a brag; it’s the truth.

A cold, hard, damning truth.

Hawks is a Pro Hero with the power, skill, and finesse required to take the fall for the entire country. He is someone who is loved by all, who thrives off of the appreciation and the cheers, but he knows — he understands — he’s expendable. He’s a tool—an object seconds from being put to rest.

There are many things that Hawks knows; he’s been training to be a hero since he was in his very childhood. Blindfolded, tested and conditioned to be the ideal hero, the perfect pawn.

Hawks is no idiot, and he will never deny that often times that he isn’t sure what he is feeling.

Emotions are weird for him. Feelings are oversimplified in everything he was taught, yet disgustingly really and oddly interfering the second he had set foot into the spotlight. He was used to the cold, the people who would view him as a specimen, experiment 20493, codenamed: Fierce Winged Hawks. The only emotions he understood was apathy, seriousness, anger, resentment, bitterness, disappointment, and relief. When finally, finally, the Hero Commission broke his wings, his spine, and his mind, the small boy so eager to be a Hero ultimately nothing but a soldier, ready to follow commands to the T.

Hawks has only heard of love from the blurry, unclear memories of his childhood. His mother muttering how she had no love for him to be taking care of him as he did, or his father saying he could never love him. Love was foreign, strange, alien to him. Even when he was eighteen and finally given a bit of freedom from the chains the Hero Commission bound him in was expressed out of love. But he was put into the cage that granted him the ability to spread his stiff wings; love made no sense.

He saw lovers making out in alleyways, and he furrowed his eyebrows, wondering just why anyone would want to kiss in the smelly, dark, virus-infected areas. He saw his colleagues come in looking dazed, refreshed, reborn, yelling loudly, and singing poetry about their love for some other person they met just yesterday. He also couldn’t ignore the days, weeks, months later when they would rearrive with red-rimmed eyes, swollen eyes, and a tremor to their voice.

Love seemed… awful to Hawks.

Love was a deception of brain chemicals. Nothing more than your mind bending, flipping, and twisting to make something that made absolutely no sense make sense. 

Hawks had expressed that one day to a sidekick of his, his barriers and walls crumbling away because he had been on a stakeout for five days straight now. The world that could never keep up with him was numbing his brain.

“Well, that’s romantic and flirtatious love for ya,” his sidekick explained with a halfhearted shrug. It seemed that he both agreed and disagreed with what Hawks had to say. “They’re amazing loves, don’t get it wrong, and they definitely don’t make sense, but they’re loves not meant to last.”

Hawks blinked.

“What?”

His sidekick chuckled, hands rubbing at his eyes as he peered out the window again, his sullen eyes looking even more tired.

“Have you never learned the different types of love before, Hawks?” the sidekick teased as much as he was curious. “I figured a pro as popular and smart as you are would know the different types of love.”

Hawks feathers fluttered in his inability to keep his lack of knowledge to himself.

“I don’t.”

“Wow, finally something Hawks isn’t aware of!” the sidekick laughed, and his hand opened his phone, fingers hitting the screen before shoving the device into Hawks’ chest. “I’m sure you’ll find that you can understand at least one love.”

Hawks grabbed the phone, head cocking to the side in his curiosity as he scrolled down through the phone.

There were eight different types.

Eight different ones that he could have experienced within his then twenty-one years, and he found himself unable to look away from one.

Agape: universal, selfless love

“Hawks, they’re moving!” the sidekick squawked, and Hawks handed over the phone, and with nothing on his mind, burst out the window, ready to take down this organization.

Hawks had to admit that later that night, when he was finally able to sleep in his own bed, he felt selfless love. It was for the people of Japan. The many citizens who needed his help and the heroes of the country who rose to the demands of the job. Maybe it wasn’t the type of love depicted in anything he’s ever read or watched before, but that was okay. It was love.

The love he has for the citizens is enough to keep his head afloat.

This is the only love he needs in his life right now, the only love that matters.

But he’s no longer twenty-one, he’s twenty-five, and the wings on his back that feel practically invisible to him, are hurting. His back is in pain, his quirk almost gone, save for the smallest, insignificant feathers perching from the stumps of what was his beginnings of a wingspan. It still burns, phantom singes and phantom heat whenever he thinks about his nearly gone, never to be grown again, wings.

“Well, Hawks, you already know that this is going to happen,” comes the cold voice of one of the board members of the Hero Commission. A man who had practically raised (see managed) him. 

Today was the end of Hawks life, more or less.

“AFO, Shigaraki Tomura, and the well-known former members of the League of Villains were finally stopped,” Hawks speaks with a nod. He knows, even though he could not be a soldier, he had been around to see the young UA students, Endeavors Interns, bring them to justice.

The biggest names of evil were dead, and Hawks already knew he was over.

To be fair, he was glad it was over.

But still, it hurt to hear the indifference in his voice, the apathy, the tedium.

“Operation: Fierce Wings - Hawks is officially over.”

“I could’ve figured that one out pretty easily,” Hawks jests, unable to show the way his heart twisted and withered under the knowledge that he was no longer a hero. His love, his agape, for the people were still there. Still, just as he recognized in his colleagues who were experiencing the different forms of love, it didn’t matter how much love you held for someone, something, for the innocent, helpless people…

Life takes, it destroys, and love doesn’t seem to have a chance.

“Thank you for your twenty years of service. I hope you find the freedom you had been looking for.”

P H I L A U T I A

It’s been a week.

Seven days, twenty-one hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty-four seconds since Hawks was fired (see Honorably Discharged) as a Pro Hero.

Hawks has always felt that the world moved oh so slowly behind him. It had been his wish that heroes be able to relax, laze around because society had evolved enough that criminals knew better, were treated better, and could integrate into a truly peaceful society.

It had been his dream.

But right now, he was bored.

B o r e d.

“Fuck, I don’t care,” Hawks grumbled, face smooshing into a pillow as he watched the Netflix Series Bridgerton drone on the screen. “Dump his ass.”

His apartment, it was safe to say, was a mess. There were cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks everywhere. His hair was ruffled, stringy, held back by a hair clip he had stolen from Miruko. His beard was nearly fully grown in, and there were bags under his eyes despite the fact he was sleeping for more hours of the day than staying awake. He was sore, tired, bored.

So bored.

He didn’t think being bored was going to suck this much, going to hurt him like this.

Fuck.

“Open the damn door, bird boy!” came a sharp scream and powerful kick from the front door.

Hawks glared at the door, the tiniest of feathers he had been able to regrow, trying to pathetically open the lock on the door. A sheen layer of sweat pushed against his forehead, and Hawks grunted, trying to lift the heavy lock.

BAM.

The door swung open, forcefully kicked open by none other than Pro Hero Miruko.

“Yo!” Miruko waved, lips pulled in a fierce grin as she entered through the broken doorway with nothing but a bag of unknown items. “I figured you were here!”

“...you broke my door,” Hawks pointed out, eyes narrowed as dust and destruction danced within the air.

“You took too long,” Miruko breezed, slamming her plastic bag on the kitchen island. “It’s a fucking rats nest in here, birdbrain; I thought you were somewhat organized?”

Hawks groaned loudly, sinking further into his couch as Miruko began reorganizing his kitchen area — dumping the dirty dishes into the sink and throwing things away in fast, practiced skill. “Life is too boring, and I’m too bored to do anything about all of the mess,” Hawks exaggerates partially, hand twisting and dancing as he speaks. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess.”

“I’m not cleaning up your damn mess, birdbrain,” Miruko barks out a laugh, her hands slamming against the now, somehow, clean surface. “I’m just making my life easier!”

Hawks looked over the top of the couch with a semi impressed, semi uncaring look and shrugged.

“You seem to have a great handle over those robot limbs now,” he points out.

Sure enough, Miruko had two bionic limbs, limbs that she had finally managed to work into a fighting career. After spending two years on the sideline, relearning how to walk and then fight, she was back on the field.

She was a hero again, despite it all, unlike him.

“Damn right, I’m amazing!” Miruko preened, chest puffed, and bunny tail wagging excitedly. “But anyway, I figured your dumbass would be depressed, so I brought you some shit.”

Hawks watched with a curious gaze as Miruko quickly hopped once from where she was in the kitchen to a place on his couch, landing on Hawks' legs unintentionally.

“OW!”

“Look at what Rumi brought you,” Miruko laughed, slapping Hawks on the back as he cradled his legs. “And yes, I just referred to myself in the third person, so shush.”

Hawks grumbled, lips in a half pout, half frown.

Taking the opaque bag from Miruko, Hawks pulled out the many items in the bag.

Carrots, a KFC gift card, Korean skincare products, a movie about Miruko’s recovery process, and a 1001 Things to Do (A Book on Finding Self Love).

Hawks stares at the book.

“The perfect items for a self-care, self-love spa day,” Miruko nods, once again slapping Hawks on the back. “Some old sidekick of yours told me that you don’t know what love is, so I figured that I would help teach you the most important one! Self-love! Truly the hardest one to master, in my opinion, but damn if it isn’t a good one.”

Hawks feels transfixed almost, unable to look away from the book as Miruko slaps him on the back yet again as she moves to leave. He hears her yelling about forwarding the bill to fix his door to her, her agency would pay for the damage, and how she’s off to train with some bunny hopping boy from UA.

Opening the book, Hawks looked at the number one thing to do on the book and sighed.

#1: Look in a mirror and name five things you LOVE about yourself.

Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do.

-

Hawks is on number thirteen (Stand at a bridge and scream into the void about the things you love at dusk) when he realizes that maybe… he doesn’t love himself. 

It is without saying that he loves people; agape, after all, is the only love type that made sense to him, but philautia, self-love, was way lost on him. Objectives 2 - 12 on the book were entertaining to do! They had Hawks going outside of his house much more than his week trapped indoors, and for the first time since the day his wings had been burnt off, his house was spotless.

But it was clear to Hawks that he didn’t feel love for himself.

Whenever he tried to convince himself that he should love himself, that there were terrific qualities in himself, he thought back to the dirty, burnt room. 

“I still gotta protect their happiness!” the phantom in his mind screamed, the broken sob collected in his throat.

Hawks shivered, unable to let himself recognize the pain and hurt in the phantom's eyes, or the way that he now wished he had never done that… why had he done that?

What a mess…

The small chirping of Hawks phone interrupts his morose thoughts. He looks at the screen, eyebrows raising in slight mirth and caution as none other than his former intern was currently calling him.

“Tsukuyomi-kun!” Hawks laughs into the receiver, the weight of his past for a moment forgotten. “How are ya?!”

“Hello, Hawks-sensei,” Tokoyami’s calm tone fills Hawks' ears. “I was calling because I have a request to make.”

“Name it,” Hawks spoke immediately, slouching against the cold bars of the bridge, eyes closing as he tried to relax. “You need a letter of rec or something?”

“Nothing of the sort, actually,” Tokoyami says. “We third-year students are graduating in a few days; I was inquiring if you would attend on my behalf.”

“Wow, Tsukuyomi-kun, no need to be so formal with me!” Hawks laughed delightedly, his hands carting through his feather-like hair, “I’d love to come and watch you guys graduate! Is it true that the finger-smashing boy is the valedictorian?”

“That would be false, Midoriya-kun has nothing on Yaoyorozu-san.”

“What a bummer, you’d think he’d be first after how he helped win the war for us, huh?”

“You’ll find that Yaoyorozu-san is highly gifted and undeterred by most things,” Tokoyami sighed. For a moment, Hawks chuckled at the melancholy tone to his old intern's voice. It sounded as if he had been striving with great difficulty to reach the highest marks as well. 

Hawks began speaking to his rather odd ex-intern with great curiosity with the blanket of the night surrounding him. His defenses and thoughts whittling away the more they spoke, the later it got in the morning.

“Ne, Tokoyami-kun, I have a question?”

“Concerning what?”

Hawks pauses, his brows furrowing as he looks up into the still dark sky, “Do you know how to love yourself?”

Silence.

Had it been anyone else, Hawks would have panicked at the lack of noise. Still, his already less than chatty intern typically took to not speaking much to begin with.

“Self-love is difficult,” Tokoyami finally spoke, his words slow, carefully chosen. “We humans are flawed; we all have demons. Most of the time, we only recognize and see our demons, oftentimes forgetting that being human also means being weak and at times immoral. Loving oneself is a hard task because we know ourselves better than any other. It’s a work in progress for everyone to love oneself, it's a type of love by the Ancient Greeks, but it’s not always everpresent. One must accept all flaws to love oneself, and remember that flaws don’t make you less, even if you believe otherwise.”

“...wow, I asked for a sentence answer, and you gave me a speech. Who would’ve known you were so in check with your emotions, Tokoyami!”

“You knew, I’ve already revealed this side of me before. You laughed last time too.”

Hawks finds himself home thirty minutes later, and he stares up at the ceiling, fingers drumming against his chest.

Self-love… it seems like an ever-evolving type of love, but it’s there. He knows that even if he has regrets and hardships and things he hates about himself, deep down, self-love exists and that it will exist. 

Patience.

Even the fastest man in the world could demonstrate patience.

L U D U S

“What can I get for ya?”

“I have no idea honestly, do you have any recommendations?”

Hawks could say with complete honesty that he felt entirely out of place.

He was at a local bar. The bar was semi-busy today. Most young adults dressed in an arrangement of clothes, each on a different level of soberness as they cheered to this and that. 

Why was he at a bar even though he was slightly uncomfortable? Well, you can blame #73 in the book for that.

(#73: Enter the first bar you find, order a drink, and flirt!)

“What type of liquor do you like? Hard or soft?”

Hawks blinked; he didn’t know.

“Hard?”

The bartender looked a bit unsure of him for a bit before nodding and turning his back to him.

Did hard liquor mean he was going to get an iced drink? He’s never consumed alcohol before.

“Here you go!” the bartender sang, slamming two shot glasses before him. “Two shots of Bacardi.”

“Oh, thank you?” Hawks tilted his head as a small cup of OJ was placed in front of him (“That’s your chaser,” the bartender had laughed). Bringing the small glass shot glass up, Hawks looked around at the throngs of people surrounding the bar and looked at you. You were cheering loudly as you raised your own shot glass in the air with a whoop and, in a fast, fluid motion, brought the shot glass to your mouth and took the liquid down easily. Hawks was definitely unimpressed now; that looked entirely too easy. “Here we go, cheers to me.”

Imitating your own actions, Hawks shot back the liquid in his shot glass, and immediately his entire body tensed.

EW.

NO.

EW.

OH GOD, NO!

Spitting out the sour, bitter, disgusting — dear god, how do you even describe this taste?! — liquid, Hawks, chugged the OJ, his lungs and throat and tongue burning from the shot.

“That was disgusting!” Hawks spat to absolutely no one, his hands covering his mouth as he stared at the other awaiting shot of ‘Bacardi.’ “Why would anyone drink that?!”

“Only madmen drink Bacardi while sober,” a voice joined in on Hawks' one-sided conversation. “Or bitches who are self-sabotagers. Never trust a hoe who says Bacardi is their favorite drink.”

Hawks turned around to see you, the girl he had regrettably underestimated for taking the shot, smiling at him with a not entirely sober look to your face. 

“You look like neither. That and the way you took the shot obviously means that you had no idea what you were drinking.” Hawks continued to stare at you, completely perplexed by your casual conversation, the dress on your body that was twisted a bit, screaming wonders about your level of sobriety. You took to the empty barstool beside him with a grin and a calculating look, “You’re Hawks, right?”

“Yeah, Hawks,” he spoke, his tongue feeling weird in his mouth as he bowed stiffly in his chair. You were beautiful, fuck.

“I’m y/l/n, nice to meet you!” you speak easily, fingers grabbing at his other filled shot glass with a concerned look. “I have a feeling you shouldn’t try to take this other shot.”

“Dying of alcohol definitely isn’t in my vision of ways to go out,” Hawks grins. Pushing through his haze of awkwardness as you shift in the barstool so that you’re now facing him entirely, knees pressed to his thigh. “I’ve never actually drunk before?”

You inhale sharply, your eyes going wide as you break all levels of personal contact that’s acceptable of strangers in Japan and grab his cheeks.

“Alcohol virgin?!” you gasp, the sweet smell of some liquid drafting from your breath. “I’ll teach you everything that I know, don’t worry!”

You let go of his face, neck turning away from him, looking for the bartender to flag him down.

“Don’t you have—?”

“They can wait,” you wave at the bartender before turning back to Hawks with a confident grin on your face. “I have my favorite Pro Hero right beside me; I think they’ll understand.”

“Alright, what is it that I need to know?”

“My full name,” you breeze with a wink. “Y/l/n y/n.”

“A beautiful name.”

“I am a beautiful woman.”

Hawks chuckled good-naturedly, his head nodding in agreement, “I think we were talking about the alcohol, though, not your attraction as a female.”

“All in good time, all in good time,” you laugh, taking to the bartender and ordering two drinks, both of which were entirely foreign to Hawks.

Hawks would not consider himself to be an expert at flirting. He was attractive, a great conversationalist, and did have a type of edge to his words that often seemed playful or a warning, depending on how you looked at it. But it appeared that his natural way of speaking was more than enough to make him flirtatious enough to match the way you spoke to him.

You had introduced him to a single mixed drink, telling him that getting drunk by yourself at a bar typically wasn’t a smart thing, so keep to something with a low alcohol percentage. Just enough to make you loosen up, but not enough that you were incapable of getting home. Hawks liked the way your hand rested on his forearm. How you smiled and laughed at something to show your interest but not at everything to show that you weren’t faking your amusement at what he was saying.

You matched his every word, not backing down from his bluffs. Soon enough, Hawks felt his cheeks warm when he finally looked directly at your smiling face (he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or not). 

Eventually, though, the night ended, and you shimmied off the bar stool as your friends had come to collect you to leave.

“Can I get your number?” you ask, eyes mostly entirely sober as you handed him your phone. “I know you were the man who was just a bit too fast, but I think I can handle that.”

Hawks snorts, his eyes rolling in his amusement, “That was horrible.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse!” you exclaim with a pout that quickly turns into a giddy smile as Hawks enters his number to your phone. “Don’t worry though, once I’m sober, I’ll flirt your eyebrows clean off!”

“That sounds painful!” Hawks yells as you wave goodbye, your arms linked with a line of other girls as you leave the bar with teasing laughter and undecipherable words.

It was with you that Hawks realized that he had come to find a new type of love.

Ludus, the love of flirtation and playfulness.

Damn, who would’ve known.

P H I L I A

Hawks was having a pretty bad day.

It wasn’t anything super terrible happening, all things considered. It was a lovely day out; the sun was warm, the sky so blue, and the birds chirping. Nothing on the news to be concerned about and all his precious people were safe.

But it was still a bad day because instead of being out and about with you, his now borderline best friend/girlfriend, who he was stupidly having a crush on, he was stuck at home.

Hawks was sick.

Deliriously, stuffy nose, goopy eyed, chapped lips, and feverish sick.

You: Are you sure you’re fine????

Hawks: Im perfectly okay. Ill go with you to the park next time sorry

You: Thats not what im concerned about stupid!!!!!

Hawks: Bye have fun!

You: I knoW YOURE SICK ASSHOLE

Hawks chuckled, rereading his messages with you.

Blowing his nose for what felt like the umpteenth time, Hawks resumed the movie on the screen that you had recommended him to watch — Disney’s Chicken Little — because it reminded you of him, or something like that. The TV droned on with the movie, and Hawks found it hard to keep focused as the Sandman danced on his head and whispered in his ear.

He hadn’t noticed he had fallen asleep until a loud banging was heard on his door.

Shuffling towards the door, Hawks opened the still slightly broken door with bleary eyes and a stuffy nose.

In front of him was none other than you.

You… with a basket full of things.

“Hi!” you greeted him, pushing past Hawks easily and walking into his apartment. “You look worse than I thought you would be!”

“That's hurtful,” Hawks pouted, closing the door behind you, sneezing, then following after you. “Why are you here? I thought you w-were — achoo — going to the park?”

“I was, but we were supposed to go together to check off number 184, and I wasn’t about to go alone to complete a list meant for you!” you exclaimed, dumping the overfilled basket on the kitchen counter.

“Mm,” Hawks hummed, his voice dry and cracking as he pulled the blanket closer around him. “What’s this?”

“A get well care basket,” you say in an unmistakable like tone; you glance at him, smiling widely, and gesture dramatically to the basket. “Follow along, if you can.”

“Pfft.”

“So first, I have some sleepytime tea; I swear to the gods and back that this tea will cure you and knock you the fuck out,” you say, pulling out the thing on top of the basket and putting it to the side. “Next, we have some tissues because you obviously need them.”

“Hey!”

Hawks watched through red-rimmed eyes as you carefully and thoroughly explained what and why you had brought him. Fuzzy socks, a blanket, his favorite snacks and drinks, medicine, DVD’s to more movies you told him he had to watch, an embarrassing childhood picture of you that he had been wanting and swore he would never expose least he wants to die, more oils for his diffuser, and a signed Endeavor poster he had been wanting.

Safe to say that after he had been drugged up, eating some soup and drinking some tea on the couch, wrapped up in the blanket you had bought him, laying between your legs, Hawks was feeling much, much better. It had been hours since Hawks had coughed or sneezed, and he was talking with you about how Disney movies were being produced less and getting sort of worse with each one. The movie titan slowly losing its ground.

“Okay, it’s almost eleven pm; I have work tomorrow, you are still sick, let's pack it up!” you eventually say during a moment of comfortable silence.

“I can’t believe you have to work,” Hawks sniffled, standing up off the couch so that you could get up. “Seems like a crime.”

“It’s not so bad! Being a celebrity PR manager is a million times easier than a hero PR manager. At least we can help decide what's seen!” you laugh, helping to clean up his living room of the bags of chips and drinks.

“Sure, sure,” Hawks grins, keeping the trashcan open for you so that you could place the trash in. “Thank you.”

Walking you towards the front door, Hawks comes to the sudden and almost alarming realization that he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants you to stay. He thought this was a friendship, and it was one, a good one at that! For about a month now, he had known that there was a type of love he had for you, one of friendship.

It was called philia. 

So why did he want to keep you wrapped up in a hug, to pull you close and press a gentle kiss to your forehead, to your cheek, to your lips?

“—I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you during my lunch break,” you say, slipping on your shoes as you pull on your jacket. “If you need anything at all, call or text��”

The words on your tongue die immediately when Hawks still slightly chapped lips press against yours. The sick must that was present earlier on the day is no longer there, and you can feel heat and fire bursting from your cells as Hawks pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry,” Hawks breathes out, a small smile on his face, a daze in his eyes that tells you he definitely was not completely sorry. “I couldn’t resist anymore?”

“W-We will talk about that later!” your voice squeaks, your heart hammering in your throat because fucking Hawks kissed you. “If I-I get sick, I’ll rip out your eyebrows!”

“Will you go out with me? On a date?” Hawks continues on, leaning on the doorframe you’ve yet to pass.

“...I hate you, yes,” you warble, hands pressing against your burning face as Hawks grin grows.

“Perfect, I’ll text you,” he allows you to pass through the doorway where you feel both entirely light and giddy yet awkward and mechanical.

“Hawks, I swear, if your stupid kiss got me sick!”

“You’ll rip out my eyebrows,” Hawks laughs, waving a hand. “If you rip out my eyebrows, I demand a kiss for every hair you pluck out.”

He laughs at how he can basically see the heat rising from your ears as you squawk and run away.

Looking at #184 of his book, Hawks smiles as he crosses it out (#184: Ask out your crush!) and sighs. Philia was love between friends, but it was also, if he remembered correctly, one of affection. And it was without saying that he held a deep affection for you.

E R O S

As much as Hawks claimed he knew about the world, he was as clueless as a newborn baby when it came to the topic of love. Reasoning? Well, today marked a year of being together. It had been a year since Hawks had kissed you when he was snot-nosed kissed (you did get sick, by the way, and while you didn’t rip out his eyebrows, Hawks had kissed you plenty in apology), and then took you on a date where you went to a trampoline palace.

He was clumsily romantic. More often than not, he wasn’t actually romantic. Still, the sincere thought and emotions he put into it made his actions seem so thoughtful and sweet.

You’re not sure why you actually believed that on your year anniversary, he was going to plan something for the two of you. So the reaction he had when you showed up on the year anniversary, armed with a bouquet of flowers and a small personal gift for him, Hawks looked deeply confused.

“This is still not bad!” you exclaim, watching as Hawks attempts to redecorate his apartment from the messy bachelor vibe into something of romance. It was easier said than done, especially as your boyfriend had no decorations in his house that wasn’t fanboy or bird material.

“I didn’t realize that one year anniversaries were meant to be out and about!” Hawks yelled back, failing to nail the fairy lights onto the ceilings. “I knew you wanted to do something, but I thought it was going to be like ‘let’s go get some KFC!’ sort of thing!”

“Definitely not,” you laugh, sitting on his couch with the take out food sitting on the table. It had just arrived, and Hawks was still not accepting the lack of romance in his apartment. “But it’s okay, really Hawks! I didn’t tell you, which is entirely my fault! Come on, let's watch something together, eat, and relax!”

Hawks sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

He should have known that one year anniversaries were a big thing in dating too. They sure were in businesses; what a rookie mistake. Not satisfied with the lack of romance in his apartment but also unable to do anything more to it, Hawks sulked over to the couch and sat beside you, grabbing his dinner plate.

“Thanks, dove.”

“You’re most welcome, baby vulture. Thank you for the food!” you grin, breaking the chopsticks and digging in.

The food is eaten with a mirthful conversation, the TV playing the 100 Funniest Hero Fails playing on Youtube. Eventually, the purples and pinks of the sky became dark.

Night is here.

Hawks went from sitting right beside you to lying on the couch and having you snuggled into his stomach at some point in the night. YouTube is no longer playing Hero Compilation videos. Still, it is now instead showing a chef with a giraffe quirk demonstrating how to make your very own pancake treehouse, no clickbait!

Hawks is transfixed on you, watching the way your eyes sparkle and shine as you stare up at the screen, your lips moving as you give your side commentary, but he can’t hear a thing.

Five weeks ago, on this day, was the day that Hawks realized that the philia love he had for you had evolved once again. It had become one of eros. Romantic, passionate love. He loved you; he loves you. Anything you wanted or needed in the world, Hawks would do anything to give it to you. He had yet to tell you said realization; after all, he needed to make sure it wasn’t some fluke but found himself chickening out each time he wanted to confess.

Gliding his thumb against your cheekbone, Hawks stared adoringly at you, head tilted as you laughed at the video before glancing up at him. It was evident that you hadn’t been expecting him to be staring at you so intensely. As soon as you glanced back at the TV, you snapped right back, curiosity blazing off your gaze.

“What’s up?” you asked, hands pressing to his chest as you lift up a bit. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you,” Hawks whispered, the words coming out so much easier than he thought it would. “Y/l/n y/n, I love you.”

Your eyes widen significantly, your jaw dropping as your eyes grow just a bit watery.

Hawks smiles softly, knowing that for so long you had told him you loved him without a single moment where he returned the affection. It hadn’t bothered you. Obviously, you knew why he didn’t say it, but finally hearing him say it seemed to break you just a bit in the best of ways. He kisses you softly, fingers wiping away the single tear that fell.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I love you too, Hawks,” you blubber, your smile so bright yet wobbling with your heartfelt emotions.

“Takami Keigo,” Hawks corrects. “My name is Takami Keigo.”

Hawks watches as you process his name, and a wet laugh bubbles from your throat as you nod your head, hands reaching behind his neck to pull him close for the first soul-consuming, fiery kiss of the night.

“I love you, Keigo.”

If this wasn’t eros, well, then, Hawks didn’t know what it was.

P R A G M A

two years later, valentines day

Keigo sits on the bed, fingers adjusting the tie around his neck as he stares at you doing your makeup in the bathroom. Your eyes intensely concentrated on your reflection as you painted dark red lips on yourself.

To sum up the last two years in a single, simple phrase, Keigo would say that love now made even less sense to him.

It wasn’t precisely that it made perfect sense before. Some days he still argued and wondered about how love could exist in specific scenarios. Or why, after you stole his final KFC chicken leg he was saving, he could always love you after such betrayal. It made no sense to him, but also made perfect sense, hence the complete confusion.

But it was without saying that as you twirled in your outfit in front of him, a grin plastered so large and lovingly on your features, that it made sense.

How could he not love when he had someone like you.

The walk to the restaurant was perfect; he had even taken a moment to slow dance with you when you came across some performers. Your sweet smile meant just for him made Keigo hum contently as he kissed you gently.

Dinner was amazing. The food rich and luscious, entirely to die for that had the both of you moaning about how great it was before laughing because the waitress definitely heard that. After dinner was over, you and Keigo were now waiting on desserts when he simply grabbed your left hand and slid a simple ring over a very important finger before placing a kiss on your palm.

“I know I was at one point too fast, and maybe I think I was too slow to ask this, but would you like to wake up and have chicken with me every day?” Keigo asked, watching as your face went through a million stages of understanding, processing, internalizing, accepting, and pure emotions.

The kiss was sloppy and wet, the tears streaming down your face beautifully, like diamonds in the dark sky.

It was today that Keigo unlocked the last love he ever thought he would have.

Pragma: committed, enduring love.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks fluff

[shoutaaizawas]

Also hhhh bakugou in arranged marriage w "have you ever kissed anyone before?"

thank you for this request!!

↳ bakugou katsuki x fem!reader → ❝free❞

event: au prompt event summary: you have no choice but to marry bakugou katsuki, your parents made sure of that. he’s the last person you would want to marry but maybe he’s not as bad as you thought. word count: 2,835 tags/warnings: arranged marriage!au, fluff, a hint of angst

It would have been your preference to not end up in an arranged marriage but sadly you didn’t have much choice. It wasn’t that you were in love with someone and couldn’t stand the thought of being without them. No, you were single and had been for a long time. Well forever technically.

Maybe that was why your parents had set you up with Bakugou Katsuki. Well set up was a polite way to put it. More like guilted into and slightly threatened into an arranged marriage. Your parents were great heroes with great quirks that were passed down to you and you were following in their footsteps as a hero.

They wanted you to have children that would also have a great quirk. There way of doing that was to have you marry Bakugou Katsuki. If you refused not only would they be upset but they had threatened to kick you out of the family agency and denounce you which would end your dreams of taking over the family agency. You considered starting your own but if they denounced you publicly you would drop so hard in the ranks you wouldn’t be able to.

It was a bad situation altogether but you supposed that there were worse things than getting married. You just weren’t sure if it was better or worse that you were familiar with Bakugou. The explosive hero, Ground Zero, was known to all. He was an impressive hero with a powerful quirk it was no wonder that your family picked him. You had worked with him enough to know that his personality was a bit much. Fitting to his quirk.

Your mother had insisted that you meet him for dinner, you were thankful she didn’t insist on attending with your father. At least you could try to pretend this was just a blind date and not the first official meeting that would end in you marrying someone you hardly knew.

There were very few things in your power so one way you decided to get your internal revenge was by dressing down for your first meeting. A part of you hoped he would be so unimpressed with you that he would back out and you would be free. Maybe if you had more time you could establish your own agency before they found another suitor.

The dinner was at one of, if not the nicest restaurant in town. You were certain sweat pants and a loose shirt were not to dress code but that was the point. You internally snickered at the look the hostess gave you as you told them you were here for a reservation under Bakugou.

Approaching the table you almost felt bad when you saw how nice Bakugou had dressed for the date.

“You’re dressed nice.” He comments sarcastically.

“Only the best for my betrothed.” You said giving a curtsy before sitting down. “Can’t say I’d ever imagined I’d be here with you.”

“I can say the same thing.” He said.

You ordered a drink, something strong to get you thought the night. Bakugou wasn’t your favorite person, granted you couldn’t say that you knew him very well but your interactions had always been tense at best.

“So why did you agree to this?” You questioned.

“I have a few reasons.” He said but you already knew he wasn’t going to elaborate.

The rest of the dinner was awkward. You discussed details of the process. It was very taboo arranging marriages in this day and age so it was to be kept secret. You would ‘date’ for a few months before planning the wedding. You have a few drinks ordered something expensive and left him with the bill going home to sulk about your new life ahead of you.

You hadn’t expected him to text you that night asking if you got home okay. You smirked at his dismissive response when you asked why he was worried about it.

Bakugou text you that week asking if you were free. You knew that for things to look normal you had to have the appearance of dating even if you would rather avoid him, enjoying the rest of your single life that was fading away quickly.

You figured he would take you out to dinner every once and a while and you would be done with it but he took the time to plan out dates. Taking you to the zoo, to festivals, even to amusement parks. It caught you off guard that everything he planned were things that you enjoyed doing. He would even get you little gifts that you loved, not that you would admit it.

Perhaps what surprised you the most was that he tried to get to know you. The great Bakugou Katsuki, arrogant, hostile, and explosive was taking the time to ask personal questions. You almost resented him for it but after a few dates you realized something.

As much as it gave you a sense of instant gratification to be rude or annoy him in the long run it would only hurt you both. If you had no choice but to marry him did you really want to shoot down his genuine attempts to start a relationship?

You supposed that was how you started to fall for him. When you took the time to answer him genuinely and ask him questions back you realized that he wasn’t the man you thought he was. Underneath all the attitude was a good man who cared and had a good sense of humor. Someone who had been formed by his childhood and the way his parents treated him and was trying to change that. Someone who wanted to be a good hero and help people.

There were even times that you could forget that you didn’t choose him. Sitting with him at dinner laughing at something stupid he said while he nearly pouts at you, how could you remember that this was set up?

It was a beautiful night, a perfect end to a lovely day with Bakugou. He had taken you to all your favorite places, you had eaten your favorite food and now you were in a beautiful part of the city. Lights sparkled around the two of you as you walked through a nice park.

The two of you stopped to take in the view, standing side by side, arms brushing against each other.

“I know that these aren’t normal circumstances but I was hoping today could make things feel a little more normal.” Bakugou said looking over at you before getting down on one knee, presenting a small velvet box to you.

The ring was beautiful, not what you expected. So many would go for the typical ring, silver, shiny with a big diamond on it showing off how expensive it was. But this was exactly your style. It was delicate and detailed with a unique gem, not showy or expensive but your favorite gem stone. Your breath caught in your throat as he stood, sliding the ring onto your finger.

“Bakugou, it’s perfect.” You nearly whispered.

“Call me Katsuki.” He said.

“Thank you, Katsuki.” You said looking up at him. How did he look so perfect in this light? His features so striking and soft at the same time, his red eyes boring into yours with emotion you hadn’t expected from him. When had you fallen so hard for this man? The man just months ago you couldn’t stand.

With his proposal the media went crazy and wedding planning began. It was easy to pretend that you and Bakugou were a normal couple before but with planning underway it was a reminder that this hadn’t been your choice. You were almost upset with yourself that you nearly didn’t care anymore.

Bakugou was good to you, he was considerate and respectful and sometimes it felt like he loved you. Not just the shallow love that many people had for each other but a real kind of love. The kind of love that meant you would do anything just to make sure the other person was happy.

You were at Bakugou’s place cooking together in the kitchen when he brought up a subject you had been hoping to avoid.

“You know, we’ve never kissed before. We’re getting married in a few weeks but no kissing.” He said.

“We’ll get to that at the wedding.” You said not looking away from the vegetables you were chopping, hoping he would drop the subject.

“Are you blushing?” You could hear the smirk in his voice without looking over.

“I don’t know what your talking about.” You turn to look at him with an annoyed look on your face.

“I know a flustered girl when I see one.” He teased. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You defended. Okay, you could admit that your future husband probably had some business with the topic but you were embarrassed and had been hoping to not bring it up and get it over with at the ceremony.

“Do you want to have your first kiss in front of a crowd?” He asked. “What if you bump your nose into mine? Or hit your teeth?”

Crap. You hadn’t considered the ways things could go wrong. Unfortunately he made a good point, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of who knows how many people. Your mother was relentless with the guest list. How many people could you invite to a wedding?

“Okay, you have a point.” You admitted. “I don’t know how to fix that.”

Bakugou looked at you like you weren’t getting something obvious.

In one quick movement Bakugou went from standing at your side to pushing you against the counter. Suddenly his tall, wide figure felt so imposing in front of yours with his red eyes intense. His hands held the counter behind you, caging you in. There was no escape. He leaned in slowly, your breath frozen in your chest.

“I can think of one way to fix it.” He said in a raspy tone, his lips near your ear. Your heart was pounding in your chest, cheeks burning. “If you’re interested.”

Just like that the topic of your first kiss was very interesting and something you wanted to address right away. You nodded softly, leaning in to him. He met you the rest of the way, one of his hands moving to you cheek preventing you from bumping him accidentally. You silently thanked him for helping you not make a fool of yourself, even if it was just the two of you. He tilted your head before pressing his lips against yours gently. A softness that months ago you would consider impossible for this man.

After a moment he leaned back with a satisfied grin on his lips. You looked at him with hazy eyes, surprised at how emotional you felt. How could one action make you feel so much closer to him?

“Thank you.” You whispered, eyes drifting back to his lips. A part of you wanted to lean in for another kiss but the other part of you wondered if that was too much. This was an arranged marriage and just because Bakugou had been nice to you it didn’t mean he felt that way about you.

As quickly as you felt close to him you now felt miles away. You stood up straight before going back to chopping vegetables. Just because you fell in love with Bakugou Katsuki didn’t mean that he felt the same way.

It was a week till the wedding. One part of you was thankful your mother was so overbearing, making all of the choices for the event. The other part of you, a smaller part wished you could have a small wedding with loved ones in a private place. That same part wished that the man you were marrying loved you back.

Bakugou had texted you asking if you could talk, normally that would make you nervous but you knew that it was probably just something about the wedding. So here you were at his apartment.

Bakugou opened the door, letting you in before leading you to the living room. You took a seat on the couch.

“Do you want anything to drink?” He asked standing there.

“I’m good right now.” You answered. “What’s up?”

Bakugou let out a sigh before sitting down next to you. He ran his hands through his hair nervously before finally speaking.

“Do you want to cancel the wedding?” He asked.

Your heart dropped. Did he not like you so much that he was ready to back out of the contract. No doubt he knew the repercussions, your parents were ruthless they would drag his name through the mud. The worst part was him asking made you realize that you did want to marry him.

“Even if I did want to I don’t have a choice.” You admitted. You never explained how your parents had forced you into this.

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“If I don’t marry you my parents will kick me out of the family agency, denounce me in public make it impossible for me to get another job much less not drop to the bottom of the ranks. All my hero dreams gone.” You explained.

An emotion you didn’t recognize flashed across his face before he let out another sigh.

“Your parents approached me, offered me the opportunity to marry you, promised that they would help me in the ranks and my agency.” He said. “That’s not why I agreed, I have no interest in help. I don’t need it. They threatened something similar with me if I didn’t agree.”

It was sad, a part of you wasn’t even shocked that they had forced Bakugou into this too. Your parents had a lot of influence it wasn’t a joke.

“I’m sorry, they’re awful people.” You said as you looked down.

“They don’t scare me, they might be powerful but I’m a top ten hero, I was mentored by All Might, all of my friends are pro heroes, I have my own influence.” He said. “The reason I agreed was you.”

“Me?” You questioned looking up in confusion.

“I’ve always liked you, wanted to get to know you but you never gave me the time of day. I know that this wasn’t the best circumstances but I don’t regret getting to spend this time with you, to really get to know you.” He said. “I never intended on going through with the wedding unless you were one hundred percent okay with it.”

“Katsuki I-” You started but he cut you off.

“I love you, it was too easy to fall in love.” He said. “I care about you more than anything. I don’t want you to feel forced into anything. Back out of the contract, work at my agency, and I’ll make sure your reputation doesn’t suffer.”

“Katsuki.” You said quietly, tears welling in your eyes. He loved you. “Katsuki, I love you too. We could just save the trouble and get married, if you wanted to.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you owe them anything, I don’t want you to feel trapped.” He said. “I want to propose again and make it feel perfect, not like it was expected because of a contract.”

Not only did he love you but he was willing to risk himself to free you form your parents grasp. Tears spilled down your cheeks and you nearly tackled him as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

“Thank you, Katsuki.” You sobbed. “Thank you so much.”

“Anything for you, princes.” He said as he wrapped his arms around you. “Anything.”

Bakugou did as he promised. His team at his agency was able to compile all the evidence that your parents had forced you into this contract. He gave you a job that you enjoyed far more than working at your parents agency. He even promised to help you start your own agency if that was what you wanted to do. Your parents were torn apart in the media, losing almost all of their power and influence.

You were free. Not only were you free but you had Bakugou. You moved in together, loving the time that you spent with him in and out of work. Bakugou proposed again, making it even more special than the first time. You had a feeling it was coming when you couldn’t find your ring.

You had the wedding you wanted, small and with close friends and family in a secluded destination far away from the city.

Marrying Bakugou had felt like the worst thing that could happen to you at first but as you walked down the aisle towards him dressed in a nice black suit it was hard to imagine you could ever feel that way.

Bakugou Katsuki was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

taglist: @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis-but-more-otaku @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bkglovesyou @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh  @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia @moon-write

#bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my writing #au prompts #terrifying-testicles

[meaningofmischief]

Evil, Lying Scourge

Set immediately after the battle in the Timekeepers’ chamber. Loki and Renslayer go toe-to-toe as Loki creates the ultimately confronting conditions to force the truth of Sylvie’s Nexus Event from Renslayer.

The truth is devastating - can Loki and Sylvie survive it?

Loki and Sylvie were traumatized - that was near the only way to put it.

Hours ago they had resigned themselves to die together on an exploding moon.

They had been forcibly yanked into the clutches of the TVA at the last possible minute, restrained, separated, each subject to individual psychological tortures as all their remaining tatters of stability and freedom and friendship were ripped away from them one by one. Both prepared to meet their ends together again, and now even their impossible escape was ice cold comfort as they both examined in horror the head of the mindless android they had taken to be one of the three all-powerful Timekeepers. 

Not to mention the barely suppressed passion each felt for the other that roiled away like a wildfire between them - burning both the longer it went unacknowledged.

‘Then who,’ Loki’s voice broke for stress, ‘created the TVA?’. Sylvie felt choked by a sudden rage. Hurling the head of the android viciously across the floor of the chamber, she spat: ‘I thought this was it.’ They both had, of course.

A low moan startled them and they whipped around, mirrors of defense for the next attack, but the despised Ravonna Renslayer still lay passed out cold from the hefty blow Sylvie had dealt her not a minute before. 

B-15, the undisputed saviour of the pair of them, had finally regained consciousness after the massive strike to the head she had received at the hands of one of the Timekeepers’ specialist defense team. They had not treated her mercifully while she was down either, delivering unnecessarily cruel, wounding kicks to the woman they saw as the traitor in their midst. 

Sylvie reacted as if by instinct and rushed straight to B-15’s side, running practiced hands down the Hunter’s limbs to assess for fractures or broken bones. Loki could only marvel - for all her uncompromising toughness, Sylvie’s unconscious impulse was to compassion, a quality that he found at times miserably difficult to access, which frustrated him to no end, especially when he considered how yet more painful Sylvie’s past had been to his own.

‘Nothing broken.’ Sylvie’s soft reassurance to B-15 snapped Loki out of his reverie. ‘But those arseholes didn’t go easy on you by any means. Do you think you can walk?’ There was a flash of fire in the resilient Hunter’s eyes and she opened her mouth to deliver a stinging retort before Sylvie broke out into a warm smile and there was a brief moment of kinship between these two fearsome warriors.

‘Still,’ continued Sylvie bluntly, ‘I’m not having you risk your life to save us only to pass out in one of these obscure corridors where no-one’ll find you for the next week. I’m gonna see you to the infirmary and you can’t stop me.’ She was busy helping B-15 struggle painfully to her feet when Loki murmured, gravelly, ‘Sylvie. Is that wise?’ 

Sylvie glowered. Whatever difficult feelings she had for this man, he was not about to tell her what to do. Luckily B-15 interceded, voice tight with pain, but determined nonetheless: ‘I know how we can do this. Variant -’, she checked herself, ‘L-Loki. Take out Ravonna’s Tempad from her jacket.’ 

Loki’s skin crawled but he nevertheless did as she commanded, crouching down to where Ravonna still lay knocked out, reaching inside her jacket to retrieve the rectangular Tempad, surprisingly heavy in his palm. He handed it uncertainly to B-15 who snapped it open and began pressing buttons with a confident ease that seemed to indicate she knew exactly what she was doing. ‘There,’ she said smugly after 30 seconds or so, ‘the warrant for my capture has been deleted. And don’t worry,’ her gaze flitted over to Loki and in that brief glance Loki knew that B-15 had perceptively ascertained the depth of his attachment to Sylvie, ‘nothing is going to happen to that Variant on my watch. The store cupboard for this unit is right next to the infirmary, so we’ll get her a uniform to act as a disguise on the way back.’ B-15’s eyes narrowed, and Loki knew she was fighting hard what must be a tremendous amount of pain. She handed the Tempad back to Loki and he felt incredibly humbled by the action. Sylvie helped her very gently to the elevator door. ‘Promise me,’ B-15 whispered through gritted teeth as she turned to face Loki one last time, ‘that you’ll bring this place to the ground.’ Loki nodded once, slow and solemn - forcing himself to believe that such a thing was possible when so much lay still unknown. He and Sylvie locked gazes, and Loki longed to cross to the elevator doors in a handful of strides, hold her so close to him, take her face in his hands… Stop. He forced himself to focus right now, for all of their sakes. He only held her gaze as the elevator doors closed, and then they were gone. 

Loki exhaled, and it came out mostly as a sob. He closed his eyes to withhold the tears which he felt welling in their sea-green depths. He had held himself together all this while for Sylvie, but now, standing alone in the cold, misty chamber - he felt assaulted by uncertainty and fear. And sorrow. He so wished for Mobius, for his friend, who was always so grounded and strong - a master of strategy. Loki’s gift for style and verbal artistry were rendered useless in a situation such as this and he felt utterly incompetent and broken.

‘You can be whatever - whoever - you wanna be. Even someone good. I mean just in case anyone ever told you different.’

Loki’s eyes snapped open, shining with salt water and yet never so determined as now.

No.

He had the ability to stand up and make his own choices, and that started now. Not his first act of defiance against whatever cruel authority had created this suffocating institution of control, and certainly not his last. 

He knew what he needed to do, and he needed to do it for Sylvie - while he had this rapidly diminishing window and before they set about trying to achieve the impossible in burning this place to the ground.

And before he told her that he loved her. 

Loki stooped and grimly retrieved his Time Collar where it lay on the floor after B-15 had freed him of it. He was going to need it, unfortunately. He opened the Tempad and after a short while as he got to grips with its functions, a Time Door with a subtle magenta sheen opened up next to him.

Panicked breathing behind him.

Good, she was awake. 

Loki wasted no time, seizing Renslayer none too gently by the lapel of her jacket. She foggily tried to resist him, but before her blurry vision had even cleared, she felt the Time Collar wrap constrictingly around her neck, felt Loki haul her to her feet and unceremoniously push her through the Time Door ahead of him.

The Asgardian bedchamber was light and airy and warm - a stark contrast to the cool, damp darkness of the place they had emerged from. Loki looked around briefly, instantly wistful, recognising the arch of the ceiling, the pristine white marble floor, even smelling the heady summer scents of his old home. It made his heart ache even more - if that was possible at this stage. He was quickly distracted, however, by Ravonna’s wild sprint away from his side. She had regained her full mental capacity now, but was seized by terror at the situation - at the mercy of the Variant and whatever tortures he could concuct for her.

Loki fiercely loathed to play the jailor - even to someone as worthy of harsh treatment as Renslayer - but he needed her attention. He turned the dial of the Time Twister and in an instant Renslayer was back at his side. Though the logical part of Ravonna’s brain knew it was fruitless, she tried to break away from him several more times, just as Loki had tried upon his capture. Eventually Loki seized her by the arm and made her turn to look at the scene before them.

Throughout the chaos the little girl seated on the floor had payed them no heed. Not that she could. This was what the TVA quaintly referred to as an ‘Observant Loop Cell’ - of course obnoxiously abbreviated to OLC. An OLC was designed not to punish prisoners into submission but rather to force them to reflect on situations they had experienced - made to watch those situations over and over and unable to help, hinder or manipulate any of the figures within it. 

Loki himself had had no idea what to expect when he had found Variant L1129’s file on Renslayer’s Tempad, and created an OLC of the Variant’s apprehension. He had briefly had a vision of the young, out-of-control Goddess of Mischief, terrorizing Asgard - effecting pain and suffering, destruction and death so devastating that there was no choice but to send up a smoke flare, a Nexus Event. It did not fit in the slightest with what he perceived of Sylvie’s true character, but he could think of no other reasonable explanation. He did certainly not expect this angelic child, playing as any child would, with her toys. Loki felt a pang of unhappiness as he remembered his own childhood days, he never could play nicely. It was all borne of resentment and jealousy: Father would always ensure Thor had the most luxurious selection of toys, and he was anyway keen that both of his sons stopped messing around with playthings as early as possible and go out for battle training with the young sons of Asgardian nobility instead. Where Thor thrived in the competitive, loud environment of the training ground, Loki shrank into himself. Self-conscious, anxious, lacking the warrior’s bulk that all the other boys seemed to possess, the young prince found himself more often than not in a corner with a few books and some of the toys his father scorned - to make up his own stories in his own time. The other boys mocked him endlessly, tore pages out of the books, stole the miniature figurines of Valkyrie and other great warriors. Loki had eventually learned to be as harsh and cruel as they - only his power to hurt came from his intelligence rather than brawn.

This little girl was anything but harsh and cruel, hurt and isolated. Yes, she was alone, but she seemed to relish that independence - making her own stories up in her own time. ‘Dragon swoops towards the palace, but Valkyrie flies over, defeats the dragon and saves Asgard!’ she crowed, face alit at the conclusion of what had evidently been an epic story. Loki couldn’t suppress a small smile, though he knew that any moment there must be some great catastrophe which would set off the Nexus Event. Ravonna seemed to have frozen at his side - both were caught up in their individual perception of the events unfolding before their eyes.

When the golden Time Door opened mere seconds later, Loki gasped in disbelief, gaze flitting around the room and then back to Sylvie as he tried to ascertain what could have caused the Nexus and finding no evidence at all. Ravonna stiffened next to him as they both saw none other than Ravonna Renslayer - or more precisely Hunter A-20 - in clear command of the two Minutemen flanking her, hold out her Tempad before her and certify in a cold, triumphant voice: ‘There’s our variant.’ Sylvie’s eyes were huge and frightened as Renslayer continued without pause: ‘On the authority of the Timekeepers, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline’, as though she were addressing some notorious criminal and not a terrified little girl.

‘Where’s the Nexus?!’ Loki thought, increasingly desperate and distressed as the OLC Renslayer seized Sylvie by her skinny arm and wrenched her towards the Time Door. It all happened very quickly then. The Minutemen set their Reset Charge which immediately began its task of disintegrating Sylvie’s possessions - anything and everything that indicated that she had ever been in this room. Sylvie screamed, high-pitched, shaking in Renslayer’s grasp: ‘Wait!!!’. Loki resisted the urge to run to her aid, knowing it would be completely useless. Then Sylvie and Renslayer gone, followed by the Minutemen, the Time Door snapped shut and Loki and his Renslayer stood facing one another in a deafening silence in the handful of seconds of respite prisoners would receive before the loop started again.

Tears were clouding Loki’s vision, but he blinked them away angrily. ‘Why?’ was the only thing he said - in a voice several octaves below his usual speaking voice. Renslayer shook her head and pressed her lips together, though her chest heaved at the fraught situation. Loki growled softly and resisted the urge to hurt her - to make her talk.

No.

That was what he would have done in the past, he would not descend to such base measures now.

He didn’t need to, the loop was already starting again. Loki felt as though his heart would fairly break in two as he watched the young Sylvie skip into her bedroom, arms full of her toys, setting them out, beginning to play. ‘You’re going,’ he spat at Renslayer ‘to stand here with me and watch this as many times as it takes for you to tell me what the Nexus event was that made you rip an innocent young girl’s life away from her and force her on the run for her entire life. I don’t care how long it takes. You’re going to tell me.’

In reality that wasn’t exactly true - Sylvie and B-15 had almost certainly reached the infirmary by now and if Sylvie made it back to the Timekeepers’ chamber to find it empty, to think that she had been abandoned by her one companion (and perhaps more than that) in the universe… It nearly had Loki sending them both back to the TVA instantly. But Renslayer was breaking already, he could see it, as he forced her to watch the abject cruelty, cruelty at her hands, again and again. By the third viewing, Renslayer’s eyes brimmed with tears and Loki would gladly have wept openly. By the fifth, she started to hyperventilate, made to move away. Loki turned the Time Twister’s dial and she was jarred back into place. On the sixth viewing, just as the OLC Renslayer was about to seize Sylvie, she abruptly screamed: ‘Enough! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you.’

Both breathed out in relief, when Loki pressed the button on the Tempad that cut the loop and everyone in the scene disintegrated immediately. He turned to face her and forced out between his teeth: ‘Do not try to lie to the God of Mischief. You have no idea how acutely I am attuned to falsehoods. You will tell me in every horrifying detail about this Nexus Event, or I will leave you in this Time Cell and bury this Tempad in the deepest crevice of the TVA where no one will ever, ever find it. Now TELL ME.’

Renslayer took a deep breath to steady herself, closed her eyes and spoke with a surprisingly steady voice: ‘The Variant was deviating from her role on the Sacred Timeline.’ Loki snarled: ‘Obviously! What was the deviation?’. Renslayer opened her eyes and locked her chocolate brown eyes with his green ones. ‘A Loki,’ she said, slowly, as though choosing her words carefully, ‘does not get to travel the kind of path that that Variant was on.’ Loki rushed to intercede, but Renslayer narrowed her eyes, warning him not to interrupt her.

‘It was a mistake that she ever got as far as she did. Our technology advances every day - it’s now so accurate that we can nip burgeoning Nexus events like this one in the bud.’ Loki was amazed that she could speak in such clinical terms about the organisation that had only very recently been revealed to have three mindless robots as its figureheads. But Renslayer’s voice ran with conviction which only strengthened as she continued: ‘Lokis are so very tricky. It’s an incredible rarity that any being is allowed so much leeway as they have been, and we have all had to suffer the consequences of that. You see, due to your natures as shapeshifters, this Variant being born the Goddess rather than the God of Mischief was no cause for a Nexus flare. But of course in the archaic society that you are raised in, the ridiculous difference in gender is of massive significance. Recall that only male heirs are permitted to succeed the throne of Asgard. In your case, informing you of your adoption would have caused colossal problems for King Odin - that would have had ramifications across Asgard, not to mention potential rebellion from you yourself. Odin was under no illusions of how much more intelligent you were than his legitimate son, and how that would have fused with the arrogance of princehood to create the ultimate cuckoo within the sparrow’s nest - an utterly unacceptable scenario. Far better to keep that knowledge from you, even if it did mean that you grew up confused and resentful - emotions Odin could easily ignore. Far better to have you treated as the bastard son, who he would insidiously try to manipulate to his own ideals, who might possibly one, highly unlikely day, be fit for the throne should Thor be killed in battle before his heir was old enough to succeed the throne.’

‘Of course, for a girl, Odin had no such concerns. He took the child from Jotunheim out of some scrap of pity, and because she could prove useful in negotiating with the Jotuns at a later date. A princess had no chance of succeeding the throne, not to mention an illegitimate one, who would likely be married off to some lowborn noble as soon as she had come of age. So Odin told the Variant of her adoption. And somehow, ludicrously, that knowledge failed to break the Variant, it only made her stronger. She took pride in her differences from her family and the rest of Asgard, her inclination to independence rather than company, her delight of mischief. Where she should have been enraged, embittered and vengeful, she was courageous, compassionate and creative.’

‘Excuse me,’ Loki hissed, interrupting Renslayer’s monologue, ‘where she SHOULD have been?’. Despite the fact that she had found herself at his mercy, Renslayer sneered at him. ‘Of course-’ she continued, seeming to try to gain the upper hand over him with the knowledge she was revealing, ‘a Loki is an evil, lying scourge, like you. Where would be the heroes of the Timeline without the villains? That Variant had a role to play, same as you, same as all of us, and she went off the path. Whoever heard of a heroic Goddess of Mischief?’. Ravonna’s voice cracked slightly on the last sentence as she bore witness to Loki’s murderous expression. ‘So what you’re saying,’ he replied with devastating calm ‘is that Sylvie lost her home, her family, her life, because she would one day grow up to be kind and just, to be her own person? Oh, no one is truly good or truly bad, but the TVA decrees that not to be so.’ His voice grew more intense and Renslayer shrank before him. ‘Because whatever devil puppetmaster is controlling the TVA, they like to have their play made interesting - with villains to cause destruction and heroes to save the day?’. Renslayer was at a loss for words, but Loki had heard enough. He pressed a button on the Time Twister he held and Ravonna sank ungraciously to the floor, unconscious once more. One of the functions the delightful Twister could enact was to reverse the prisoner’s physiological state - mainly meant for various exotic creatures the TVA brought in, that could effect all sorts of trouble as a result of their innate biology, but in this case merely necessary to give Loki a moment to take in what he had just experienced. He couldn’t quite do it.

Only concern for Sylvie forced Loki to action, and he opened up the door back to the Timekeepers’ chamber using the Tempad, dragging the unconscious Ravonna back through with him. Despite what he had said, he would never consign anyone to spend their life trapped in one of the hideous Time Cells. He removed her Time Collar too, and flung it to a far corner of the chamber, repulsed that it had had to come to him using one of the TVA’s disgusting methods of control to get the information he needed.

His thoughts left Renslayer entirely behind as the elevator doors opened and Sylvie emerged not a moment too soon, yanking off the breastplate and trousers of the TVA Minutemen she had worn as a disguise over her usual black top and trousers. Now that Sylvie’s purpose had been achieved, she too seemed utterly spent as she staggered over to where Loki stood staring at her. Both failed to speak for several moments and then Loki rasped, with a voice that sounded unused for days, ‘Sylvie. Sylvie, I need to tell you something.’

Sylvie’s deep blue eyes widened, her heart began to pound like a wild drum in her chest. ‘What?’ she could only say as Loki struggled to find the words for what he had just learned.

When it was over, they both started to cry. 

Loki and Sylvie had never been ones for excessive, histrionic displays of emotion. They had had to armour themselves in toughness and charm and mischief and wit all their lives despite the turbulence that roared inside of them. 

And now here the both of them stood, silent but for the ragged intake of breath as they struggled to bring themselves under some semblance of control. 

Eventually they stopped. Each observed the other’s tear-streaked face.

‘Sylvie...’ Loki said again. The word seemed to ground him and her at the same time.

‘Not another pep talk please.’ Sylvie uttered with a weak attempt at humour, that fell flat instantly with the sheer desperation in her tone.

‘No. I have to tell you something else.’

Sylvie wasn’t sure that she could handle anything else.

Loki stepped closer to her, and avoided her gaze, his breathing picking up again.

Sylvie felt herself instinctively mirroring him, and forced herself to focus.

Loki looked her in the eyes.

‘We will figure this out.’ 

It really was too much.

‘How do you know that?’ How was there any certainty about anything anymore?

‘Because, uh -’ Loki’s near-gasping for air cut him off and he twisted his sweaty hands together. 

‘Well, back on Lamentis…’ It was all too impossible to explain. Loki gestured helplessly, trying to find the beginnings of some clever story that had never failed to come to him with infinite ease before and now completely failed him.

He gave up. His arms dropped to his sides. 

‘This is new for me. Um -’ Loki’s heart raced in his chest and the sound seemed amplified, obliterating his thoughts. They were a tangle of grief and passion and...and love - a tangle that was impossible to reconcile.

Loki turned his hands towards his heart, as though it could speak for him.

‘What?’ Sylvie breathed, hardly daring to speak, her own heart pulsing just as intensely.

They would figure this out. They would. Some very deep and very soulful part in both of them, inextricably linking one to the other, knew it. Loki clasped her upper arms, barely believing himself.

I love you Sylvie. Sylvie I love you. Sylvie I will always love you - you beautiful spirit of mischief. Sylvie, we are free and we will figure this out. I love you Sylvie, I love you.

‘If it were now to die, ‘twere now to be most happy.’ thought Loki, even as he felt the icy touch of Ravonna Renslayer’s weapon seize his heart and rip its chill through his body, as Sylvie watched him disintegrate right before her eyes which never left his - as he was transported to some realm of chaos where the God of Mischief would navigate the labyrinth back to his Goddess so that he could speak those words unsung softly in her ear before bending down to her lips and watching the TVA burn.

- Inspired by a fantastic suggestion from asgardian1112! More suggestions for future stories gladly welcome!

#loki #lokiseries #sylki #sylvie x loki #sylvie laufeydottir

[hotchley]

the date

Surprise! I’m on holiday now so I’m using the time to try and get some of my WIPs finished. This and yesterdays were the most done, so don’t expect too much from the next two weeks because I also do need to start doing my work.

The temptation to post a spoiler was almost overwhelming, but I refrained so now you get to read the whole mess in one go! Also, funny story, this had been sitting in my drafts since last year and I only just got around to finish it.

There is a happy, alternate ending. Let me know if you want to see it!

Trigger Warnings: references to child abuse and domestic violence, both characters have low self-esteem and negative perceptions of themselves

read on ao3!

It's too early for anyone else to be there. The entire BAU is on leave- and given how often that was interrupted, it makes sense for everyone to be enjoying it whilst it lasts, but it still shocks her to see the entire sixth floor empty.

Apart from one person.

Hotch is sitting behind his desk, dressed casually. It's strange to see him there, frowning over paperwork, wearing a pair of worn jeans and a fuzzy jumper. It makes him look younger. more like Jack’s dad than Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner and it tugs at something in Emily's heart.

She pushes the feeling away. That isn’t why she's here. It doesn’t matter that she is the only one- aside from Dave- that knows the way he rubs his thumb against his other fingers is a way to soothe himself, not an indication that he's lying. It doesn't matter that she knows what his tell is, or that the smile that had spread across his face when she told him it was a date made her heart flutter. It's irrelevant that he’d pulled her closer when they were dancing as though he was trying to convince himself she was real.

She's leaving. And he's with Beth. Beth, who she had only spoken to for a few minutes but had immediately loved. She is everything Hotch needs after the darkness of the past two years. And Emily can't resent her. Not for falling in love with Hotch and certainly not because he loves her back.

He isn't hers. Maybe he would've been. In a different life where his torso isn't a mess of scars left by the same serial killer that had put his wife in the ground, and her darkness was something that didn't stop her from loving others or cause fear, they would've been beautiful. A peaceful garden that made people smile and realise that there was still hope and a reason to carry on.

But it isn't a different life. They live in a world where you can't keep a photo of your loved one in your wallet in case it fell into the wrong hands, and where the phone ringing did not provoke an eye roll at the latest scam, but a cold dread that someone else they loved is dead or gone. They live in a world where she taints everything she touches- apart from him because he has always been darkness and what she doesn't understand was that her touch made flowers blossom where only weeds had ever lived in his ribcage- and a world where he cannot handle his own humanity.

She hasn't knocked before walking into his office since that case in Milwaukee, all those years ago. She thinks of the woman she had been then, but for once, it doesn't hurt. She is still that headstrong and fiesty agent, but she is also more open and trusting. Aaron had changed too. He'd gotten older and more tired. But he trusts her.

Enough that she doesn't need to knock before entering. It feels wrong though, to walk in unannounced. He would know immediately if she knocks that something is up, and she wants to cling to the feeling of home for a few more moments. She clears her throat instead. The smile that crosses her face when he looks up, slightly startled by her sudden appearance, was completely involuntary.

"Why are you doing paperwork?" she asks.

He sets it to the side, looking like a child that had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "It's only going to pile up, so I thought I would get a head start."

"You deserve to take a break too," she chastises.

He looks down. "I know. Would you like to sit?"

She nods, taking the seat in front of his desk. When she looks at him, it is almost painful. Five years ago, he had called her into his office to snap at her. And she had hated him for it. She knew he was only pretending to not know where she'd gone for college. So she took the knife in her back and plunged it into his heart when she said he didn't trust women as much as men, despite knowing that wasn't true.

He doesn't trust anyone. How could he, when the very people that were meant to love him and keep him safe from the dark were the same monsters that emerged as the sun went down?

But he had looked younger then. Less tired by life and living. And she had been more hopeful. Not naive. She had never been naive. None of them had been. They'd never been given the chance to experience that feeling. But she'd had hope that they could save everyone.

And he hadn't been able to take that from her, but he watched as she slowly lost it. And she watched as he told the team he loved them in a thousand different ways. And she wondered how anyone could ever call him cold. He wasn't cold. Hotch did what it took to protect the honour of the BAU, but Aaron did what it took to keep his family together.

At some point, they had stopped fighting each other and started to blur the lines between friendship and more.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" he asks.

She nods. "JJ deserves it. So does Will. Especially after everything that's happened."

Neither of them know what, but something happened when she was at the State Department. 

"We all deserve that," he says, almost too quietly for her to hear. One set of words that she cannot say threaten to fall from her mouth.

"Beth is lovely," she says instead. "What does Jack think of her?"

He smiles at the mention of his son. "She's one of his favourite people."

"That's lovely," she says, wondering why it was so difficult to speak to him. There were only two times their conversations had been this stilted: once when he started working for her mother, and once when she first joined the unit.

There's a sudden silence, and she stares past him and at the books lining his shelves. All the ones that could be seen were law-related. What few people knew was that at the very bottom of the shelf, where his desk and chair would cover it, he has books for Jack.

It had thrown her, the first time she'd seen them. She couldn't reconcile the image of Hotch and the image of Aaron. Now the two were interchangeable. Not that she ever actually called him Aaron. He would call her Emily like her name meant everything, but she was a coward. Aaron was too personal. 

She'd used his first name twice. Once after Haley's death, when she thought he would retire even though he would never be happy. Once after her own death, when she told him to burn in hell. She regretted that, even now, after forgiveness had been given.

"She deserves better than me. I know that. I think deep down, she knows that too but I just can't let her walk away from me, and I don't know why," he blurts out. Almost like he needed to say something, but everything else was either too personal or too neutral.

But she understands what he means. She always does.

"You need to convince yourself you can love someone without destroying them. You need a reason to look through case file after case file. You need to know that someone will be waiting when you come home, that this is not for nothing."

Aaron stares, and she swallows. It had been so long since she had been this vulnerable with him. Her bad day, when she had let herself feel after so long of not, felt like decades ago. And in some ways, it had been. She had bought and sold a house. He had crumbled and found love again.

"Emily, there is a reason for all of this. You just need to remember it. And some day, you will have someone waiting at home for you, I promise. Just give it time," he says. 

She smiles as he says her name. Ian had tainted it. But Aaron says it like it was something precious and beautiful. What she didn't understand was that, to him, it was. It always had been. It always would be, no matter what.

But then the rest of his words register and her smile fades. He already knows she's leaving, had known since she returned that it was only a matter of time. Foolishly he had hoped it would be far, far into the future, when his own health issues forced him to retire. That would be kind though. And the world had never been kind to either of them.

She would walk away now, even though she didn't want to, because she could not stand the memory of the last time she had been in that office. And he would stay, even though he couldn't, because he would not let the team lose yet another person.

"You know why I'm here, don't you?" she asks, thinking about their conversation the previous night. How it had been perfect, but a cloud shaped like goodbye had been hanging over them throughout the night. She supposed that was what life was though.

It didn't make it hurt any less when Dave forced her into Aaron's arms. He had smiled, that soft and gentle one that transformed him from Unit Chief into the man that knew far too much for his age. That still longed for a childhood.

She hadn't wanted to talk about work, or her departure or even Beth. Instead, she whispered to him about the time he had spent working for her mother, and how even then, his suits didn't fit properly. He responded by talking about the evenings they had spent together watching old reruns of the comedies from her childhood.

And it was nice.

And again, she wonders if she was doing the right thing.

"I have my suspicion," he says, trying to keep his tone light. He doesn't want Emily to regret anything. He doesn't want to influence her decision. But in the back of his mind, she's just another person leaving him. And he wonders if he would ever be good enough for anyone, and then he hates himself for thinking that because this wasn't about him.

It is about Emily. And her need for a fresh start.

"You want me to say it, don't you?" she isn't accusing him. She just needs to be sure.

"Need," he corrects. "I need you to say it."

But it isn't out of spite. Or anger. He just needs to know it was her choice. That he has nothing to do with it. That she doesn't blame him anymore. That the thing that had been building between them before- before Doyle, before Foyet made him too afraid to feel anything- has not been destroyed.

"I'm resigning from the BAU and moving to London," she says. Saying it out loud, for the first time, to him of all the people, made the situation so much real.

She hadn't fully processed that she had accepted Clyde's offer. She knew for a while that she would be leaving, but now, the full impact of it hit her. There would be no more crushing hugs from Derek in private after the cases that destroyed them both. No more little toys from Penelope stuffed into her top drawer to make her smile. 

No more Aaron seeking her out to ask her silly questions about foreign languages because Jack had expressed an interest in them. No more Aaron making sure she was fine by simply glancing in her direction. No more coffee on her desk after a difficult meeting that he would never confess to making, but which everyone knew was his doing. 

No more phone calls too early in the morning begging for a story, a joke, anything, to distract from the memory he had of her in the hospital after Doyle. 

No more them, messy and broken and damaged as they were.

He nods. The smile on his face is forced, and she can see him fighting back tears. He doesn’t want her to go. But he also knows that she needs to. She is doing what he had never been able to do: leave, before it all became too much and whatever life they still had left was permanently ruined.

 “You’ll take them by storm. Just like you did here,” he says.

She smiles slightly, thinking back once more to her earliest days. “Only there won’t be someone accusing me of being a spy for their boss, which really did define those first few months.”

She meant it as a joke. She really should have known better. He always took these things too literally, so afraid of the teasing disguising a genuine anger that would only come out hours later when he had forgotten the transgression.

“Emily, I never apologised for my actions, but I need you to know-”

“You have apologised. I don’t need to hear the words to know how sorry you are. Also, it wasn’t really misplaced distrust was it?”

“Still. I am sorry. For everything.”

He isn’t just talking about those early days, she suddenly realises. He was talking about everything, from Milwaukee to Benjamin Cyrus to Ian Doyle. She longs to reach across and take his hand, rubbing her own fingers over the skin that he was always worrying, but that isn’t her job anymore.

It never had been. Even if she had wanted it to be.

“So am I,” she says. “I miss the man you were when I first joined,” she adds without thinking.

He frowns, the furrow so much like the look Jack had given her when she told him the previous night that one day, he would also be old like his dad and her. It hurt, to see how similar they were. Maybe it was because, where Hotch had always hated looking like his father, Jack would love it.

“Why?” he asks, voice slightly hoarse. He's afraid of her answer.

“You had more faith in people and their goodness. More hope for the future. I don’t blame you for changing. Still, it was a beautiful belief to witness and be a part of.”

“Haley always gave me a reason to believe in goodness,” he confesses, fiddling with the pen he had set down the moment she walked in.  

“Perhaps Beth can give you some more,” she says, without a single hint of jealousy or anger. She has no right to either of those emotions. Women like her, women that only hurt the people they loved and who were harsh and cruel and rough around the edges did not get men like him. 

Men like Aaron got soft and gentle women who saw nothing but the best in everyone. It was the only way that they could carry on doing their jobs. The only way any of them could carry on looking into the abyss without flinching was by having something that would be their solace. Something or someone untouched by the horrors of the day and evil of the night.

He has found his solace. She is still searching. Because he cannot be her solace anymore. It isn’t fair to either of them. She's not going to make him choose between loving her and loving Beth. She knows that people could love more than one person, but he already felt guilty for still loving Haley. After everything else she had put him through, she couldn't put him through the pain of knowing that she had always loved him, had always known just what his lingering stares meant, but had just never found the right time to say it all.

"When I said she deserves better than me, I didn't just mean because I'm broken."

"Aaron, you aren't-"

"Stop, let me- let me finish. I am. I have been for a while now. Maybe I was never whole to begin with. I meant that I'm in love with someone else. I thought I was over it, but I wasn't, and it was only when we started dating that I realised."

"Nobody can fault you for still loving Haley. She was torn from you in the most horrific way possible, and if you still love her, that's okay. Your heart has always been too big for just one person."

"I'm not talking about Haley," he whispers. "I'm talking about you."

"Aaron." 

"I love you," he chokes out.

He can't. He can't love her. If he loves her, he will end up in a coffin, buried in the ground because she always kills the people that love her. If he loves her, the flowers in his heart that were finally blooming after Haley's death caused them all to wilt would be permanently destroyed.

He stares at her. She looks away. The look on his face is too real. Too much. If she looks at him, she would end up tearing up the resignation and phoning Clyde to say she couldn't do it. She believes that there was a universe in which she was strong enough to stay. A universe in which she was still beautiful.

But in the universe she lives in, she isn't. She is hardened by life and terrified of love. In the universe where Aaron only knows how to say I love you when everything else failes, who had only ever heard the words used out of fear, shouted by a desperate mother as her husband refused to have mercy, she has gone too long without speaking.

"Say something. Even if it's that you hate me and that I'm a terrible person. Or that I'm being cruel and unfair because I am. You're ready to leave and I shouldn't be ruining your fresh start like this but I just-"

"I love you too," she says.

His jaw drops. "Emily," he breathes.

"I- I love you. I don't know when it started or when I realised, but I love you. I have for a while. I just- I couldn't say anything."

"Why?"

The question catches her off-guard. "What?"

"Why do you love me?" 

He's not searching for a compliment. He genuinely wants to know why she- with her beauty and strength and power and loyalty and kindness- could ever love him. 

"For the same reason you hate yourself."

He laughs. "That's funny. In some twisted way, that's funny. I love you for the same reasons you hate yourself too."

She looks at him. Him, with his tired eyes and gentle smiles. With his twisted definition of love because nobody ever taught him what it really was. Who believed he had to be perfect, or else people would leave. Who led the team with such passion and loyalty because Haley's love terrified him, and it was easy to push her away. Him, who still does not know the difference between safety and happiness and who does not understand where kindness and love differ.

And she knows that she cannot do it. She is not strong enough to love him the way he needs. Maybe a few years ago. Maybe if this was a few years later. But time was a funny thing. It was always working against them.

"I love you," she repeats.

"You won't stay though, will you?" there is no anger in his voice. Just an acceptance she hates. He always accepts things far too easily. 

"I can't."

"I know. It's okay. I don't want you to have any regrets. About anything."

He stands, and she follows almost immediately, her body still attuned to his movements. When he walks around to stand in front of her, she wonders if this is the climax of their story. If this is the final moment, where the tension peaks, and everything ends happily.

When he was a child, he pretended his life was like the films he never got to watch in order to escape the reality of it. He eventually accepted that life did not always come with closure and sometimes loose ends could not be tied up.

He holds out his hand for her. "Agent Prentiss. I wish you all the best in the future."

She refuses to take his hand. "You don't want me to have regrets?"

He drops his hand back down by his side. "Of course not Em. Of course not."

Without giving herself time to think, she closes the gap between them and stands on her tip-toes. He doesn't pull away, but his breathing goes uneven as it catches in his throat. He looks down at the ground, unable to meet her eyes.

There is so much about him she wants to learn. So much she wants to memorise but she doesn't have time. So she presses one soft and gentle kiss to his forehead, smiling through the sadness as he relaxes into the touch with a shaky exhale.

He doesn't move. He can't. And so she steps away, clearing her throat, wiping away the tear that threatens to fall. 

"Goodbye Aaron," she says, his first name slipping out without her even realising she was saying it.

"You only ever call me Aaron when you're saying goodbye. I'm not sure whether it makes me hate or love my name more," he says.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry," she says instead. She doesn't want to think about the reasons he hates his name. Or the irony of it meaning exalted, when every single person that was meant to protect him failed.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to look back and smile. And be proud of the lives you saved, the family you found. I want you to remember that you made me a better man. That you were right. I wasn't alone."

"None of us were. Will you come and visit me? Maybe help me get settled?"

It is selfish to ask, but she never claimed to be good. Aaron believes she is, but she knows she isn't. 

"Of course I will," he promises. How can he not, when he blames himself for every single bad thing that had happened since she joined?

She gave him one final smile before closing the door behind her, ready to start a new life but still feeling like her heart had been torn from her chest. He watches her go, only falling to the ground to sob when the elevator doors close behind her one last time.

In the end, he does not visit. He gets as far as picking his seat, when he realises he cannot do it. He cannot see her. When he phones Derek, pleading for him to go instead, and to take Penelope so Emily cannot be angry, he doesn't even pretend to hide the fact that he has been crying.

Derek doesn't even hesitate. He just says he'll do it.

Emily hates Aaron for being too much of a coward to come and see her, even after he told her to not have any regrets. She hates herself more for not being able to see him when she hears about the emergency surgery. Saving JJ becomes her apology.

Still, it's not enough for her. Which is exactly why it's too much for him. Because even when they're stood across from each other, drinks in hand as they celebrate JJ's survival, they cannot be honest.

And then she leaves him again. He can't blame her.

He blames time. They never had enough. Or the right one. 

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #sad aaron hotchner #hotch angst #sad emily prentiss #emily angst #tw child abuse #tw negative self talk #sumayyah writes cm

[kingreywrites]

Underneath

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2378

Summary: They were kissing. They were kissing, and he lost himself in these sensations, in her lips against his and the feeling of her skin under his fingertips. They were kissing. Rapunzel's hands sneaked under his shirt. Eugene flinched. It was quick, it was sharp, and as easy as that, he knew everything was over.

Note: hello it’s trans Eugene time :) this is a gift for the best person on Earth @der-sonne, and the idea here is one of her hcs, that i wrote for her birthday!! I really did my best with this because i love ana and i love the trans eugene hc so i hope you’ll like this too ;-; (btw since this is in his pov there’s some self-deprecative language! it’s mild, but it’s there.)

Read on ao3

Stupid, Eugene thinks harshly, heart beating in his throat as Rapunzel's eyes shine with hurt. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he is so stupid, and an apology falls from his lips before he can even think about it. It's too late, though. He flinched, and Rapunzel is leaning away now, confusion and worry on her face. 

They're on her bed, and he's still sitting against the pillow, frozen, while she is now kneeling in front of him, hands playing nervously with the fabric of her skirt. Words escape him in that moment.

"Eugene?” She sounds small. It’s all his fault. “Did I... I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" 

"No, no, you did nothing wrong at all Sunshine," he babbles quickly, straightening up. He wants to touch her, to reassure her, but he's too scared to close the distance. "You... it's, uh- I..." 

She frowns, and he bites his lips uneasily, trying to make sense of his thoughts, trying to find something, anything he could say in these circumstances. He's an idiot. He should have... He shouldn't have let himself get so carried away, should have been more careful, because now- 

"Eugene," Rapunzel says again, voice gentle. She's looking at him differently - as if she realised something, though he's not sure what it is. Her hand hesitantly goes over his and, when he doesn't pull away, she squeezes it softly, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. "I don't understand." 

And of course she doesn't. She doesn't get it, because he doesn't want her, or anyone, to. And he's stupid, because he let himself forget it, let himself believe- they were kissing. Her lips against his, her hands around his neck and his own on her hips, stray strands of her hair tickling his skin. He loves her and loves her more every second, and so he was kissing her, losing his breath with how bold she was getting, feeling so proud and overwhelmed that she was trusting him that way, that she could want that from him.

It feels like yesterday when she was experimenting, her touch slow and hesitant, whispered words of comfort between them whenever she had a doubt, or a question. Like yesterday, when the softest press of her lips against his skin made the world stop in place around them, a warmth he couldn't understand blooming in his chest, until it was the only thing that mattered.

But Rapunzel is a quick learner, and Eugene can't get enough of her. She presses closer against him, and he can't help but answer, doesn't want to do anything but answer, losing himself in her love and her light. He's not used... not used to being seen. Not used to being wanted. Ever since he met her, he's been living a fairy tale, a childhood fantasy of finally having someone who cared about him, finally having everything he might want, after having suffered enough.

Rapunzel's hands sneaked under his shirt. He flinched. It was quick, it was sharp, and as easy as that, everything is over. He knows it, he knows it, and it's pure foolishness that he thought it could last a little longer, that he could- he could-

"Eugene, I'm so sorry," Rapunzel repeats, nervousness tinting her voice in a way that he hadn't heard since the very first weeks of knowing her. "I don't know- I'm not gonna do this again, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"No, no," he chokes out. "Rapunzel, I swear, this- this is all me, this is-"

He can't say it. He can't tell her, can't tell anyone, can't let anyone see, can't, can't-

He feels like the scars on his chest are burning. He remembers how it felt to steal and steal and steal just to have enough money to get them, remembers how free and happy they made him, if only for a little while, remembers… He remembers also that no one can ever know.

Stalyan did. Stalyan knew everything, prying him open before he ever had the chance to guess her game, taking all that could be taken, and even more then, full of a knowledge she wasn't afraid to use. Stalyan did know, and so no one else can, because Eugene understands the price now. He's not the naive, trusting, desperate guy he was back then. He can never be again.

But Rapunzel is still looking at him. Waiting, listening. She believes in him, even though he’s a liar, and has never stopped being.

Keep lying, a voice tells him. Be mean, make her let go, you know she will. Keep lying, keep yourself safe, you can’t-

“I’m trans,” Eugene blurts out, heart beating so fast he’s afraid she can hear it. “That’s- I’m trans. That’s why…”

It hits him that this is the first time in his life he comes out. Rapunzel isn’t the first to know, but she’s the first person he felt he had a choice in telling her or not, the first who hasn’t simply guessed and forced the admission out of him.

He could have hidden it from her, and yet, he told her. He… He has faith in her, despite his every instinct. He’s terrified, of course he is, but he realised as soon as he said it that he loves her, and he believes that she loves him too, as he is.

She’s silent. A reaction he should have expected. His eyes burn, and he lets out an uneasy breath, finally raising his head again to meet her gaze. He’s not sure what to expect, but he can imagine already - the disgust, the distance, the new coldness that will never disappear. He raises his head, ready as he’ll ever be to lose the only thing he has ever cared about.

He… hadn’t expected confusion. Pure, innocent confusion.

“I…” she breathes, obviously trying to find something to say, eyes twitching in that way he knows all too well - the scrambling panic to try and make sense of some new concept she hadn’t heard of before, always signalling that he needed to get closer to her and whisper a short explanation, something that they would research in the library later so she could understand better. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know.

His nerves are all over the place, and he snorts, tears forgotten for an instant.

“You don’t know what that means, I- of course, I’m sorry Sunshine,” he smiles, feeling jittery.

“I’m sorry!” she exclaims quickly, scouting closer. “I- I never heard that word before, I mean, I know- I know about, transport? And transmission, or, uh, transformation, or...”

The sentence trails off. She’s anxiously playing with her hair, looking both desperate to press on, and desperate to give him space, tethering with the uncertainty of this new situation. It's easy, then, for him; he has never come out before, but he has explained things to Rapunzel when she didn't understand them. It’s easy to fall back on that role, trying to detach himself from the weight of his declaration.

"I'm a man," is the first thing he says, quietly. She nods, and he has this irrepressible urge to say it again, because she doesn't understand what he means. He bites it down, but it's tough. "I want, to be a man."

"Okay," she answers, when he lets the silence linger. She's patient, and he loves her for that, and it hurts that he loves her because she doesn't understand yet. It could all still fall apart. But her eyes are wide, and she’s giving him a shy, encouraging smile, and he wants to believe she will understand.

"I might not have the pointy teeth, but I am," he jokes, and she laughs, relaxing a little.

"I know," she grins. "I checked multiple times."

For a moment, it feels like everything is the same. He nearly proposes that she should check again, before he remembers the situation at hand.

How do you explain to someone who, a month ago, had never even met a man, that you were one but in a different way? How do you begin to explain something that you're still struggling to understand, despite it being your own experience?

She takes his hand again, trying her hardest to give him support. He wants to babble more, but she… She deserves the truth. More than that, he wants to give it to her. As stupid and naive it sounds to himself, he wants- he wants her to know.

"I- When I was born, I wasn't considered a man. Because I…"

One part of him just wants to be crude and gets on with it. Tell her what other people thought of him, what he's been lacking his whole life, what he has failed since his very first day on Earth - all the terrible things he has heard, and still believes in, sometimes. But his fear stops him. That pressing feeling in his chest, growing and growing at the unfairness of it all, because he is a man, he wants to be one, and he can’t- he wouldn't survive Rapunzel rejecting him, too. So he tries to explain clumsily, hoping she doesn't hear how his voice trembles, doesn't see the anxiousness rolling off of him.

He tells her about having a different name, and wearing dresses, and quickly growing up to resent all of this. He tells her about the too long hair he clumsily cut with a rusty pair of scissors, and smiles awkwardly when she touches her own, the irony not lost on him. He tells her about the discomfort he didn't understand until it finally clicked, tells her about the hours of research he put into it. He tells her about finding a new name that was his own, before starting to resent it when the mockery and the glares grew too much for him. He tells her about hating who he was, so deeply that he did his best to erase Eugene from existence, lying and lying and lying until all he was was an empty shell with a reputation.

When he starts forgetting that he’s trying to explain this word, this experience, and not pleadingly justifying his own existence, Rapunzel stops him. She takes both his hands in hers, and looks at him.

“Eugene…”

“I’m sorry I lied,” he adds quickly, “and I’m sorry I’m…” like this, he thinks, but has enough sense not to say.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything Eugene,” Rapunzel exclaims, more offended than he had ever seen her. He opens his mouth and closes it, unsure, but she starts speaking again, her voice lower and softer. “Eugene, this is… This is all okay, I swear. I love you,” she whispers.

He’s not sure how to react to that. His head is swimming from the unrelenting anxiety he’s feeling, and he wonders numbly if he should just pass out and let it all play out without him.

“Eugene,” Rapunzel repeats, bringing his attention to her again. “It’s okay. I love you, and this isn’t going to change anything.”

“It’s okay?”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I mean- it’s okay? That’s it?” Ever since he met her, every time he thought about telling her he was trans, he had imagined… More. Tears, maybe. Yells, and desperate explanations, and Corona exploding, though that last one was perhaps an exaggeration. So when she nods, hesitating a moment before gently hugging him, he has trouble coming to terms with it.

His hands hover for a moment, before he hugs her back, burying his face in her shoulder. He feels… He feels safe, with her. And that means he feels stupid too, for ever doubting her, because it seems like he was the only one making a big deal out of… nothing, apparently.

"Sorry," he mumbles against her skin, "I should have known you wouldn't care."

"I do care,” she protests gently. “I care, and I'm… Thank you, for sharing that with me." They break the hug so they can look at each other again, but when he sees the emotion in her eyes, Eugene really wants to hide his face back on her shoulder. He doesn't know how to deal with this- this overwhelming love. Again, he feels like this should be more dramatic, and he can't help but expect for the other shoe to drop.

“I love you,” she tells him again, and he realises that she’s afraid he doesn’t know it. “I love who you are now, and I love the person you were, too.”

He thinks she knows he didn’t. Doesn’t? There’s still so much he regrets about his life, and the way he led it, but the concern in her eyes makes him go quiet. They stay like this for a little longer, the silence more peaceful than he could have expected.

"Can I ask… why you flinched when I was touching you?" Rapunzel says softly, after a while. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable again. I simply need to know what exactly I should not do."

"No it's- uh, I just…"

He doesn't want her to stop touching him ever. Actually, he had been loving what was happening before reality caught up on him, and he had flinched. But like everything else, he has no idea on how to even begin explaining that. He puts his hand over the loose fabric of his shirt, knowing all too well what is under it - the numb, bumpy skin, standing out starkly on his chest. The symbol of his freedom, and the thing he was so ashamed of he hid it under layers and layers of clothing, never to be seen again.

In a lot of ways, he’s starting to realise that he made his own prison out of fear.

Eugene looks in Rapunzel's eyes again. He really, really looks, and he sees her worry, her curiosity, and mostly, he sees her love, shining bright for anyone to see. He takes a deep breath, feeling jittery, and decides that she’s worth braving his fear for.

He squeezes her hand, and slowly brings them up to the hem of his shirt. She looks at him, asking for a confirmation, and he nods feebly.

She helps him get his shirt off, and for the first time in years, Eugene feels like he is finally seen.

#tangled #tangled the series #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel

[notanacousticsetcal]

begin again - calum hood

summary - based off of the song “begin again” by taylor swift. because i adore her and her songs are basically perfectly condensed little stories. so here’s what i think of when i hear that song.

mood board

warnings - hints at prior emotional and physical abuse, some emotional abuse flashbacks. toxic relationship.

word count - 1.9k

a/n - i’m not sure how I feel about it. I think I like it. please enjoy!! i love doing these song-based stories though I think they’re so fun to write so ill probably do more if you guys like it? highly highly recommend listening to the song first. or after if you want but definitely listen to it, its so good.

Took a deep breath in the mirror. He didn't like it when I wore high heels, but I do. Turned the lock and put my headphones on. He always said he didn't get this song but I do, I do.

You straightened your dress in the mirror, sucking in an anxious breath, and applied a thin layer of lip gloss. You glanced down at your heels pushing away his voice in your head. The voice that controlled you for so long. You checked the time, 6:14pm. With that, you grabbed your bag and pulled out your keys, locking the apartment door behind you. A foreign feeling washed over you as you walked down the hall. One that felt a little bit like confidence. You hadn’t felt that in a long time. It was quickly replaced by nerves at the prospect of what would be happening in 15 minutes, but you did your best to suppress them, the constant feeling of not being good enough entering your mind once again. 

It was a beautiful day. The sun was still shining though it was getting nearer to the horizon, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. It was a warm 80 degrees. 

He would say it's too hot. He would ask to stay inside. You, however, wanted to enjoy it. And that’s what matters, you reminded yourself. 

You put your headphones on as you walked along the cement sidewalk and shuffled your playlist. A song you used to love started playing softly into your ear and your finger itched to change it. You almost pressed skip, but stopped yourself. What was it he always said?

“I don’t get this song. The lyrics are kind of silly, don’t you think?” He grabs your hand and gives you that little smile he always did. The empty one that made you feel small.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll change it.” You reach up and change the station, falling back into the passenger seat and resting your head against the window, not knowing exactly why you felt so sad. 

He knew how much you loved that song. 

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and tucked your phone away, letting the old song play out. It sparked some of those old feelings in you. The ones you had before you met him. Those feelings of contentment and comfort. Happiness.

“I get this song,” you whispered softly to yourself.

Walked in expecting you'd be late, but you got here early and you stand and wave. I walk to you. You pull my chair out and help me in and you don't know how nice that is, but I do.

You stumbled into the small cafe and began to scan the room for an available small table. You were shocked to see the brunette already occupying a table near the window. Your favorite spot. He had a book out, but you couldn’t read the cover. 

Not wanting to disturb him, you walked up hesitantly, prepared to wait awkwardly until he happened to glance upwards, but he noticed you right away, closing his book and shoving it in his bag. 

“Hey,” he said as he stood up. A smile quickly took over his adorable features. 

“Hi.” You glanced down shyly, and his smile only grew. Before you could move, he reached around behind you and tugged your chair out from its position under the table and gestured for you to take a seat. You stared at him, embarrassingly dumbfounded, before quickly taking the seat and muttering a quick, “thank you.” 

A small, unfamiliar feeling began to grow in your stomach, replacing the pesky nerves from earlier. 

You didn’t know what it meant, but you knew you liked it. 

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid. I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did. I've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end.

“And so I ran out of the room, completely covered from head to toe in flour and practically broke down my mom’s door begging for help. She forbade me from baking ever again and I can’t say I blame her.” You smiled proudly as you watched Calum throw his head back and let out the cutest chuckle at your stupid childhood story. 

“That’s fucking hilarious. You’re really funny, you know that?” He looked at you in admiration, the most genuine of smiles on his face. Not a hint of the emotion you used to see in his face when he looked at you. One of apparent disdain and resentment. For what, you didn’t know.

You blushed a deep shade of red. 

“You really think so?” Your intonation says the questions rhetorical, but you genuinely wondered. 

“We hid behind a shower curtain at Kohl’s and won the entire game.” You finish the story up and the entire table erupts in laughter. 

“Max, you never said your girlfriend was such a blast, you should bring her around more often,” one of his friends says from across the table. Max laughs a hollow laugh but you don’t think anyone else picks up on it but you. You’ve gotten pretty good at reading him.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” He grabs your hand. It's a compliment so why does it sound like a threat?

The table continues with their conversation and Max’s jaw sets, his grip on your hand tightening,

“Are you trying to make me look bad?” He whispers. 

You lean back in your chair, dumbfounded at his ridiculous comment. “What are you talking about, Max?”

“Stop trying to show me up, these are my fucking friends,” he spits. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him, his face tinted red. You glance around the table to see if anyone else is noticing this. They aren’t.

“I’m not trying to show you up. I’m sorry.” You feel so small. 

“Just shut up, alright? I just want to spend time with my friends without you ruining everything for me.” With that, he turns away, leaving you to hold back your tears.

You didn’t know it, but from that moment on, you would find it hard to talk in group settings. Or to anyone at all. Because whatever he said, you believed. 

And you didn’t want to ruin everything. 

“Hey, you alright?” Calum asked, reaching out his hand gingerly to touch your shoulder. 

You jumped slightly, partially because you were daydreaming and partially because of the jolt of electricity his touch sent up your arm. “I’m sorry, did I scare you, love?” He laughed and you blushed at the pet name.

“Sorry, sorry, I have no idea why I do that sometimes. I’m so sorry.” You repeatedly apologized, growing increasingly flustered. You shook your head in an attempt to brush away the unpleasant memories that plagued your mind.

“Hey, hey,” he reached out and grazed his fingers against your arm again in reassurance and butterflies practically exploded in your stomach, that gut feeling you couldn't identify earlier growing stronger with every passing moment. “You don’t have to apologize. I was just wondering where you went, is all. I’m curious to know what goes on in that pretty head of yours.” Here comes the millionth blush, you thought as you ducked your head down, a cheesy grin on your face. 

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

But on a Wednesday in a café I watched it begin again. 

You said you never met one girl who had as many James Taylor records as you, but I do. We tell stories and you don't know why I'm coming off a little shy, but I do.

“Do you like music?” He asked, resting his chin in his palm, all his attention on you. Something you weren’t used to. It made a pink flush wash over your cheeks.

You weren’t aware at the time, but Calum found it incredibly endearing.

“I love music.”

“What kind of stuff do you listen to?”

“Honestly, I mean it when I say I’ll listen to anything, but I think I most enjoy alternative. All the different sub categories. Indie, Folk, Punk, Rock, you name it, I’ve probably tried it. I think I like how all-encompassing it is. What about you?” Talking that much made you clam up a little bit, worried you’d seem annoying. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered, though, as his fingers began to drum softly on the wood of the cafe table, his other hand stroking his chin in thought. 

“I think I’m the same way. I think all genres have some creative element to offer and what I love most about music is the fact that there are so many different kinds.” 

You smiled to yourself, running your finger around the rim of your coffee cup.

“What’re you smiling about?” He teased.

“I just like your passion. That's all.” His expression turned bashful and he gently kicked at your feet under the table. 

Calum wondered about you. About how you would freeze up or disregard compliments. About how you remained hesitant to share your interests. About your unwillingness to really let him in. About your passive nature. He wondered about how you flinched at his touch. That hurt his heart. He felt the urge to make sure you felt safe with him.

Most importantly, he wondered who would’ve ever tried to hurt someone as gentle as you.

And we walk down the block to my car and I almost brought him up but you start to talk about the movies that your family watches every single Christmas and I would talk about that and for the first time what's past is past.

“You told him you were from France?” Calum struggled to get the sentence out as he was laughing hysterically. 

“Yes,” your hands went to cover your face in embarrassment as you let out a pained groan. “I even faked a French accent and everything but ended up getting a detention anyway.”

Calum continued to cry laughing at your story from your formative years. “You were a little rule breaker back then, huh?”

You laughed and kicked a few pebbles on the sidewalk. The breeze had picked up slightly as a storm threatened the skyline. Involuntarily, a shiver traveled up your spine. “I guess I was. No idea how I turned out like the grandma I am.”

He glanced over at you running your hands up and down your arms to ease the goosebumps and immediately started pulling off his leather jacket. You, of course, protested but he insisted and draped the heavy piece of clothing softly over your shoulders, rubbing them affectionately. 

“Thank you,” you said, softly, kicking a few more pebbles on the sidewalk as you made your way to the parking garage. 

The jacket smelled expensive and woodsy and you felt yourself cuddling into it, the scent feeling so welcoming already.

Calum felt giddy at the sight. You were blissfully unaware. 

A comfortable silence filled the evening air and you felt yourself wanting to talk about him. To tell Calum why you don’t let people in. Why he broke you. Calum chuckled to himself and your train of thought dissipated immediately. His laugh practically made you forget your name.

“Have you ever seen A Christmas Story?” 

You smiled warmly. “Of course. I love that movie.” And you felt in that moment, a piece of you slipped away. A piece of you that was never really yours… rather, who you were told to be. That happiness sucking, all consuming, toxic piece of you that left you exhausted and resentful. You decided you didn’t want it anymore. You didn’t need him anymore. You never did, you just didn’t know it.

You were you. And that was enough. More than enough. And it felt so fucking good to start to realize it.

That cool evening on that quiet sidewalk next to that cozy cafe with that smiley brown eyed boy was the night you watched it begin again.

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood fluff #calum hood fanfiction #5sos #calum hood x reader #5sos imagine #luke hemmings #calum 5sos #michael clifford #ashton irwin #fanfiction #5sos x reader #michael #ashton #calum #luke #x reader #imagine #calum imagine #calum fluff #calum fanfiction

[wizardofahz]

High School Reunion

A/N: Midvale is coincidentally set around the time Alex’s 10-year high school reunion would’ve been, so that’s when this is set.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alex heads down to the beach.

Spending the night in her childhood bed and the emotional release of her conversation with Kara had been nice, but leftover pent up energy is making her restless. A difficult run in the sand should help.

It does at first. It’s been a while since she’s run on a beach. All her energy is spent on reacquainting herself with the lack of solid footing, the way the sand deforms under her feet, how much harder her muscles have to work to extract her feet and carry them forward.

Not long after she falls into a steady rhythm, Alex spots two women walking ahead of her. They’re going in the same direction as her, but she passes them easily.

The monotony of her physical movements allows her mind to wander. Inevitably her thoughts return to Maggie. Actually, no, not Maggie but the coming out journey she had helped along. Alex’s self-realization may have come in National City, but the signs had started here in Midvale.

Vicki hadn’t been her only crush, she’s sure. Over the past year, other memories have come back to Alex, puzzle pieces falling into place with a startling new clarity. Alex wonders how many she’s forgotten. Her mother hadn’t been surprised when Alex came out to her. Maybe she remembers more.

Eventually Alex decides to head back. At this point, she can run half the way and use the last half as a cool down walk.

The two women from before are still walking in the same direction. Alex glances at them, prepared to give a courtesy nod, but recognition stops that plan in its tracks.

It’s Josie.

And Vicki.

Crap.

After Kenny’s death, the friend bubble that had shattered so quickly around Alex hadn’t lasted much longer for Josie.

Except Vicki.

Vicki had been so unfailingly kind to and well-liked by everyone that she had the unique ability to stand up for anyone regardless of social status. And so she did for Kenny, Josie, and Alex.

Until Alex had screwed that up.

Alex hopes they won’t recognize her. She really doesn’t need this reunion now of all times.

No such luck.

“Alex?” Josie says as Alex nears.

Alex skids to a stop, momentum carrying her past Josie and Vicki, so they all have to turn to see one another.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Josie continues.

Feeling more off-kilter than just her sudden stop can explain, Alex says, “I-- Josie, hi. Come to what?”

“The reunion.”

Josie’s words ring a distant bell though Alex doesn’t know how. She doesn’t really keep in touch with anyone from high school, though she sees the occasional update on social media. Maybe her mom mentioned it on a phone call. Either way, Alex has a vague recollection of hearing that her 10-year high school reunion is being held sometime around now. Apparently exactly now.

That also explains Vicki. From a brief moment of weakness when Alex googled her, she knows Vicki hasn’t lived in Midvale since she left for college either.

Vicki alternates between averting her gaze and shooting Alex odd looks. Once upon a time, Alex would’ve known what those looks meant.

“Oh, that’s this weekend?” Alex says. “Umm, I’m actually not here for that, just coincidence really.”

“Well, even if you hadn’t planned on going, since you're here, why don’t you drop by the reunion anyway?" Josie offers. “I’m sure we’ll be well-stocked with booze if nothing else.”

“I’ll think about it,” Alex says, her version of ‘thanks but no thanks.'

Josie seems to understand. “Either way, I’m glad we ran into each other. I wanted to say thank you and I’m sorry. The whole thing with Mr. Bernard...” She grimaces and shudders. “The more time passes, the grosser it feels. Thanks for ending it.”

“Just glad I could help,” Alex says. Maybe if Vicki wasn’t here, she’d ask how Josie is doing. But Vicki is here, which means Alex would very much like to be anywhere else. “I should finish my run before I cool down. See you around?”

Josie nods, looking a little lighter. “See you.”

Alex takes one last glance at Vicki.

The odd expression now looks like jealousy.

... 

Alex watches the waves crash into the rocks below.

As the water recedes, she hears the shuffle of someone approaching.

There are very few people who know about her hideout. It’s not the sort of place people find by chance. The rocky cliff face is sloped but occasionally steep. Getting to her particular little hole in the wall requires knowing that sometimes the best way across is going down then up.

Her father is MIA. Her mom wouldn’t know to come looking for her now. This area is remote enough that Kara typically flies, which only leaves--

Alex sighs.

“I’m not in the mood to fight,” she says.

“Me neither,” comes Vicki’s voice moments before she appears. “I thought you’d be here.”

“Shouldn’t you be with Josie?” Alex wishes she could sound calmer, neutral at least, but her voice comes out reeking of resentment. “Doing... whatever, walking? Something?”

“I’ll see her tonight,” Vicki says evenly, and Alex’s resentment grows. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Vicki tilts her head towards the empty space beside Alex, asking if she can sit. The cave can probably fit three or four people, but given the giant elephant in the room, the prospect of two seems cramped.

Alex nods anyway.

An uncomfortable silence settles between them until Vicki clears her throat.

“I wish I knew what to say sorry for,” Vicki says.

Confusion proves a preferable alternative to discomfort. “Why would you be sorry?” Alex asks.

“You know, when we were kids, I remember hearing a lot about heartbreak,” Vicki says, and Alex’s own heart convulses in her chest. “No one ever told me you could feel it as deeply with friends.”

Friends. Right.

“I missed you, you know?” Vicki continues. “In college and even now, whenever I learn something interesting but super nerdy, I think, ‘Alex would love this.’”

“Ouch?” Alex says--she's a nerd but is she that nerdy--but she knows what Vicki means. When reading feel-good stories on the internet, she often thinks that Vicki would do something like that.

Vicki smiles, a subtle quirk of the mouth. “Watching you with Josie just now... it seemed so easy. I wish I could remember why we fought. If I said something stupid or insensitive... I remember it was after your dad died and then Kenny.”

“What? No!” Alex says immediately. “At least I don’t think so. To be honest, I also have no idea what we were fighting about.” Then because she feels guilty about Vicki’s guilt, she adds, “I did sort of have an epiphany last year about why though.”

“Last year? That’s random.”

“Not really.” Alex's face is burning now. She wishes the cave was bigger, provided at least a facade of an escape. But then again, maybe with an escape, she wouldn’t be bringing herself to having this conversation. “I, umm, I came out last year. I guess I’m coming out again now. To you. But I-- last year I came out for the first time, and it sort of made me think about things, and I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think I had a crush on you, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Vicki looks stunned, and Alex immediately regrets saying anything. All of her coming out experiences until now had been positive, but now Maggie’s story about her and Elisa is rattling around her head. Alex racks her brains, trying to remember if Vicki said anything in high school that even hinted at homophobia.

An even more panicked thought runs through her head. Alex is pretty sure she’s the stronger of the two of them. If someone is getting pushed out of this cave, it’s not her.

“You know what,” Alex says quickly, desperately retreating from that terrible thought. “We can forget I said anything.”

“No, I… Thanks for sharing. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to,” Vicki says.

Relief floods through Alex’s body. It’s not enough to calm her pounding heart and twisting stomach, but it provides a moment of clarity. She’d been talking a mile a minute and given Vicki less than half a second to respond before she went into panic mode.

“To be honest, I think I’m more surprised that you had a crush on me specifically,” Vicki continues. “You’re such a perfectionist. That you of all people could think that I was worth crushing on... It’s kind of flattering.” She’s quick to clarify, “Not in a weird way!”

Alex laughs, shaky but sincere. “Well if it helps, I don’t have a crush on you anymore.”

Vicki nudges her leg against Alex’s. “My turn to say, ‘Ouch.’”

Silence settles between them again. Alex wishes she could say this one is less awkward than the previous, but they still have ten years of distance between them.

Again, Vicki is the one to break the silence. “So what brings you to Midvale since it’s not the reunion?”

“I’ve been going through--” Alex lets out a weary sigh “--something. I don’t want to talk about it, but Kara thought it’d be a good idea to get away from National City for the weekend.”

Vicki respects Alex’s wishes and pivots. “And how is Kara? Seemed like Supergirl also had it rough for a while.”

Alex thinks she could rival Kara’s super speed with how quickly she turns to Vicki. “What? Why would you--”

“I’ve never said anything to anyone,” Vicki says with her hands up, “but I grew up with you. It’s kind of obvious.”

“No.” Alex sinks her head into her hands. “You can’t know.”

“I think it’s kind of amazing,” Vicki continues, oblivious to the panic once again coursing through Alex’s veins, “you two saving the world together.”

“You don’t understand,” Alex chokes out. “Do you remember Rick Malverne?”

Alex knows she’s breaking confidentiality by saying this, but she needs Vicki to understand the scope of the problem. If Alex missteps, it won’t be a great solution, but J’onn can wipe Vicki too.

Vicki’s brow furrows in thought before saying, “He liked you, right? Used to carry your backpack or something?”

“He also figured out that Kara is Supergirl, so if he knew, and you know, then how many other people in this town know?”

“Okay, uhh, even if other people do, no one is going to--”

“Earlier this year, he kidnapped me.” 

“Oh my God.”

“He wanted his father freed from prison, so he went after me, said that if Kara didn’t break him free, he’d kill me. Nearly did too. But the point is that I can’t do that to Kara again.”

“What about you though? Are you okay?”

Alex looks down at the water below. The tide is rising much like the water in the tank. Alex shakes her head to wash the memories away.

“I’m fine.”

Vicki looks at her skeptically.

“I’m fine enough.”

“Well, if it helps, when I said it’s obvious, I meant to me.”

Alex shakes her head. “He knew because of that day on the beach. You know, when Kara saved that woman and her baby from the car? Our whole class was out there.”

“Yeah, but Rick moved away not long after, right? That’s one of his last memories of Kara, and it left an impression. No, hear me out. Everyone else who was there remembers her as that weird kid they picked on or avoided for years afterward. I’m pretty sure at this point the ‘weird kid Kara’ reputation is not the good kind of weird you’d expect to find in a superhero--no offense to her. It’s obvious to me because I know you, and especially in senior year after everything with Kenny, Sheriff Collins, and Josie, spending time with you meant spending time with Kara. I got to see her for the good kind of special that she is.”

“I don’t know.” Alex rubs her temples. She wishes it was that simple, but she doesn’t think it is.

“You know,” Vicki says playfully, sending off alarm bells in Alex’s head, “one way you can make sure is to come to the reunion tonight.”

Alex rolls her eyes. “I’d rather be kidnapped again.”

“Want me to sleuth around?” Vicki offers. “I may not be a super spy or whatever it is you do, but I’ve got skills.”

“No, we have other ways of dealing with this.” Alex makes a mental note to talk to J’onn. “And I was serious about the ‘you can’t know’ part. At the very least, you’re going to have to sign a lot of confidentiality documents.”

“Fair enough. Do I go to your office or something? Does that mean we’ll get to spend time together again? This has been nice.”

“We have another field office closer to where you live, not that I know where you live,” Alex adds quickly, but to her relief Vicki just laughs. “So, umm, maybe we could do something non-business related sometime?”

“I’d like that.”

#supergirl #alex danvers #moments in the life of superfam #me writing vicky with a 'y' and jodie instead of josie: omg i remember nothing

[aclosetfan]

are u still doing the ask game? can i ask for 19 or 20?

for you anon, of course! 20 is actually a really lame two-sentence note that isn't worth anyone's time, so I'll do 19!

19 is a really sad story tbh. I've always really liked the character Sedusa and it kills me that the writers never did more with her. I believe they said the reason why was because they couldn't think of many kid-friendly scenarios to put her in, which is fair lmao.

lol one of my notes for this outline is "this is my dark manifesto to [Sedusa] and it comes off like a bad CW remake," which was written way before the CW show announcement. so not to get a big ego about things, but I totally beat them to the punch. This fic is my only rated M fic (though arguably Acting Normal may also change into M just for its dark themes as well).

This story is adequately tilted "Sedusa" and it follows how a plain jane named Sara became one of Townsville's most notorious villains. The plot's below, though content warning, please don’t read if your triggered by abusive relationships, domestic violence, child abuse, sexual assault/harassment, or gore. The outline won't be detailed (and tbh the actual story won't be heavily detailed either) but i believe that everyone still deserves a fair warning :)

The outline doesn't do the plot justice, but it's all I got so hopefully people just Get It.

CHARACTER NOTES:

Canonically, I believe the Sedusa's character was supposed to represent envy and lust. So, one of the main themes I try to stick with when writing her character is the definition of envy, which is a "feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck."

PLOT:

Sara is a sweet and mousy little girl, who tries her best to stay invisible. She's rather plain-looking except for her really beautiful long dark hair. Originally, she's not from Townsville, but somewhere in the "country" where a person could be considered a bumpkin. Sara's a smart young girl, but her intelligence is rather unrefined. She spends most of her time obsessing over greek and Egyptian mythology.

She's from a rather big family, but she's the baby. Her father is abusive. Her mother is neglectful and Sara resents her mother for just standing by while abuse is occurring. To cope, Sara dreams of running away and falls deeper into her mythology obsession--specifically Medusa. Sara feels like Medusa would understand her.

At 16, she runs away to Townsville where she tries to be a hairdresser. With no money, she ends up in a really seedy part of town and the beauty parlor she works for ends up being a front for more illicit activities. She still does hair, but really makes her money as a call-girl of sorts. Just one of those girls who gives handjobs in the back to sad old men. It's easy money (I'm pro-sex work lol so I don't make this a big deal, but she's still a minor and it's wrong), but she's disgusted with herself (and men). At this time, she isn't very good at manipulating men--it's more like they have power over her and it reminds her of her father, only making her angrier and angrier.

It is also of note that while she's working at the Parlor, she encounters Sarah Bellum via tv (Ms. Bellum is just an intern with the Mayor at this point). She's instantly fascinated by this other Sarah and forms an odd (slightly toxic) parasocial relationship with her. Sara thinks it's amazing that Sarah went to school and is just so glamourous. Ms. Bellum is really everything Sara wants to be.

*time skip*

Sara falls in love with some jackass. Still slightly obsessed with Sarah Bellum. Still working at the parlor. Sara feels stagnant and worthless. Her jackass boyfriend and a few of his shitty friends end up attacking Sara and cutting off her hair (which was her prized possession). She gets away, but not totally unscathed.

In the process of running away, she bumps into a mysterious man who promises He can fix whatever is troubling her. The mysterious man manipulates an affirmative answer out of Sara and he "fixes" her problem. The man is HIM and he transforms her into the woman we all know as Sedusa (who goes by Ima when disguised).

“And what is it that you want?” HIM tsked, almost sounding bored.

She looked back at the mirror, at her broken reflection and lipstick smeared down her face. With a sore, croaking voice she sneered, “I want my fu-fucking hair back.”

Behind her, the entity smiled, Its facing splitting wide into two, “Oh, now that I can do.”

She watched through the shattered glass how It—HIM—snapped its odd monstrous claw. HIM’s smile grew more grotesque, as a thin bead of sweat began to break out on her forehead.

“This might hurt a little bit,” the entity giggled as she began to hyperventilate, “but what is that you little humans say?" HIM paused, watching her with a tilt of Its head as pain shot through her temples, "Oh, that’s right—”

She gasped and then screamed, dropping to her knees as she clutched at her head. Something wiggled underneath her scalp, pushing harder and harder to break against the resistance of her skin. It felt as if something was pressing against her brain, trying to carve away at her skull.

“—beauty is pain.” HIM growled, appearing next to her so Its voice—now low and baritone—was right in her ear, and It grasped her by the chin forcing her to watch the mirror as snake-like tendrils sprouted from her skull. She cried out at the sight and her body trembled with the pain.

One black, oily, twisted snake after another shot out of a bloody crater on her head. She tried her best through the pain to shake HIM off—to look away—but It held her still with a twisted laugh. She thrashed and howled in agony as the blood poured down her face in rivets. HIM didn't let go. Instead, HIM forced her still, grabbing her by the chin so she'd peer directly into the broken mirror.

Sara paled right before her very eyes, from a peachy skin tone to a white paste. She tried to blink away the tears that wouldn’t stop welling in her eyes—the green of them becoming more acidic with every passing second.

“The fun should be ending soon.” HIM giggled again, Its voice back to a soprano, but she was too forgone to hear him, as her eyes began to lull into the back of her head.

Eventually, when the transformation is complete, we see this:

Sara had stayed collapsed on her knees after HIM vanished into thin air. She stared with wide eyes as blood, sweat, and tears dripped onto and rolled off her thighs. She hardly paid attention to her surrounding, all she could do was listen. She listened to her hair. She listened to the constant moving, living, mass that slithered around her head, neck, and shoulders. The coils almost seemed to be cooing at her, comforting her through her pain, offering sweet apologies for what they had done. They promised her nothing bad would ever happen again. They were a dangerous shield forged from her own body to protect her.

Her body. A vessel for this odd new life.

“Heh.” A deranged giggle escaped her mouth, “Heh. Heh ha—hahaha!” She laughed until her throat burned and tightened, her tears finally drying.

It was instantaneous. It was powerful. Sara had never known love before, but she loved them. She loved every single one of them.

And here she had thought she'd never be a mother.

Sara becomes Sedusa--taking inspiration from Medusa, her childhood fascination. She wonders if HIM knew, but she wouldn't bother asking. She feels sexy, powerful, and unstoppable. Her hair has instilled a new confidence in her and she's finally able to stand up for herself. Soon, she realizes that she's an "exotic" beauty and has men eating out of her hand. She isn't someone who kills, but if she gets bored (or feels threaten) she will.

Things are going good until the PowerPuff Girls are finally created. When she sees them for the first time, she pities them, especially when they're run out of town. She relates to them for not being loved little girls, but is completely shocked when she finds out they've won the town over. This shock turns into resentment and she decides she'll get even with the girls

Then, cue canon. Sedusa seduces the Professor. We see what happens in that episode plus a little more. Sedusa takes out a lot of her repressed childhood trauma on the girls and is plain awful to them. By the time her stint with the Professor is over, she hates them all.

Then, there's the episode with Bellum. Bellum becomes the Athena to Sedusa's medusa. Bellum is still this elevated person in Sedusa's mind, and it only makes sense to Sedusa that she should become Bellum. To become Bellum, Sedusa seduces Bellum and they end up having a brief relationship. (Sedusa pretends to be an intern at City Hall and the two ladies bond over having the same first name). Eventually, Sedusa reveals her plot and the canon events happen. (Bellum is heartbroken over Sedusa).

I'd like to emphasize that Sedusa's relationship with Bellum almost turns her "good," but her hair coils (HIM's curse) prevents her from taking those steps. Her coils prevent close loving relationships--since they're supposed to be shield that keeps people out, preventing any chance that Sedusa's heart may be broken again. [coils represent her inability to heal from the past]

Then we run through a quick montage of her other appearances.

[throughout all of this, I would write how her hair coils are making her more and more insane]

*time skip to after the events of the og show*

This is where my plot can go anywhere. I think Sedusa becomes sloppy, maybe kills a politican. She's spirialing out of control and mad that she can't find any real happiness in her life. I think it'd be interesting to show her interacting with the rrb, not necessarily to show their relationship, but to show how Sedusa would be infuriated that HIM had sons, especially sons who hurt girls for fun ( i.e. the ppg) (a real 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' moment for her). She's also infuriated at HIM for turning her into a monster, so being mad about his "sons" is just an excuse to get even with the entity.

To hurt HIM, she decides to hurt the boys, but the girls interfere. They won't let innocent live be taken, no matter the person's moral alignment. This infuriates Sedusa even more than HIM ever could. Because again, despite all the shitty things that have happened to the Girls, they are still good as opposed to Sedusa, who ended up bad. She doesn't understand why she had to end up the way she did.

However, the girls aren't the people who finally "defeat" Sedusa. Instead, that honor is left to Ms. Bellum (Sedusa's "Athena"), who Sedusa still very much loves in her own sick twisted way. Paralleling the Sedusa/Bellum episode in the og show, the girls (while protecting the boys) are almost defeated by Sedusa until Bellum intervenes. It's revealed that Bellum had a shitty childhood too (again enforcing the parallels/differences between the two women) and believes that it's not too late for Sedusa to change her ways (it’s a real “I’m rotten work” “no it isn’t. Not if it’s you” moment) In a moment of mental clarity, where the coils (and by extension HIM) cannot affect her judgement, Sedusa releases the boys and the girls. Sedusa doesn't stay though, like Bellum pleads, she gets scared and runs away. (but does tell Bellum she’d always love her, whatever that’s good for)

[also I decide bellum to defeat sedusa to show that the girls are still to young and that adults should be the ones dealing with other adults] [and bellum has a good track record of doing just that]

Idk if she'd be gone forever, but it's implied that she hasn't been seen in Townsville for a long time. What she gets up to is left ambiguous. She can't be good because of her hair coils, but she doesn't want to be bad. idk I don't want it to have a sad ending, but I don't think it can really be happy.

-----

I try hard to play with the concept of beauty, womanhood, purity, love and how negative/positive responses to trauma affect these concepts. Idk it's really rough and needs to be thought out more, especially the end, but I think Sedusa deserves her own story.

#this isn't edited sorry I'm tired #outline ask game #my outlines #sedusa #this story is near and dear to me #but i don't think i have the skills to write it yet #my writings #the boys are literally not important btws they’re knocked out the whole time or something idk #this story ain’t about them