#and obviously it took a very bad turn with him as he became selfish and a rude snob

[malum-forev]

Reputation: Endgame

*

Summary: Bucky is sooo Reputation coded so, here's Endgame by Taylor Swift (Bucky's Version)

Previous: ...Ready For It?

The quinjet was quiet, nothing more than the constant sound of the engine. Neither you nor Bucky hadn’t spoken a word since you left the country you were hiding in but, it didn’t feel awkward. 

You’d heard he was a man of a few words and you were used to being in silence. Since fleeing the Red Room, you’d been traveling alone. Solo travel takes a whole new meaning when you’re hiding from the world and from your past. 

“You’re a hard person to find.” Bucky broke the silence. 

“I know.” Your simple response made Bucky scoff. He was mid eyeroll when you turned to him. “Is there a problem?”

He shook his head. “Not a problem, just a- let’s call it a full circle moment.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your jaw slacked. 

“Most of the times when I get mission reports, the target is very vague. Hair color, ethnicity, age range, a picture if I’m lucky but with you, I got a full manuscript. Off the record obviously because there is no actual record of you anywhere.” A whisper of a smug smile hovered over Bucky’s lips. “I don’t usually pay attention to what is written of people because it’s usually bullshit but with you, they’ve got you down to a T.”

 Bucky has the audacity to shrug his shoulders! Like it was the most casual thing ever. The man you met barely an hour ago, who by the way has the worst reputation ever, thinks he can read you like a book.

“Is that right?” Your molars grinded together. “What did they warn you about?”

“Egocentric, narcissistic, selfish,”

Bucky was ready to keep spilling more kind words about you but you interrupted. “Glad to know Natasha thinks highly of me.”

“Just to name a few.” Bucky’s eyes were set forward, the right side of his lips curved upwards. “Big reputation.”

Now you scoffed. “You and me, buddy. We got big reputations.” 

His playful expression hardened, like you had poked a side of him that immediately lifted the iron gates. 

“Now’s not the time to get serious. You heard all of my worst qualities and you still decided to come on this rescue mission. You have to be a special kind of messed up to do that.” You laughed. “You heard about me so, you know I’ve got some big enemies but I know you’re on the same boat as myself.”

Your light tone was chipping away at the ice. He’d frozen, no pun intended, that part of himself a long time ago. When he was ‘normal’ (a term Dr. Raynor had told him time and time again he shouldn’t use) he loved to banter. It was his preferred method of flirtation and just conversation in general. But now, he truly felt like a fish out of water. The times had completely changed and he felt like sometimes he had to process information on a first-generation computer when the people around him were living in a world he’d only seen on TV. 

“If only the people who are out to get us knew we were in the same plane,” Bucky said. “We’d be a big conversation.”

The plane fell silent again, the comfortable void caressed your shoulders. Like a whisper of something you’d never felt before suddenly became familiar. 

“It’s not true, you know.” Bucky cleared his throat. “What they say about me. Most of what they say I did isn’t true. My reputation, it doesn’t precede me.” 

“Well, I heard you once took down a whole Hydra base with only one gun and a couple of knives.” You nudged on. “And that was after the Winter Soldier.” 

“I actually did that with only knives.” He turned to look at you with a smile. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look more beautiful smiling. He tugged his lower lips in between his pearly whites and the sides of his eyes crinkled. He threw his head back and a bubbling laughter invaded his body. It was a little bit hoarse, like he was out of practice. 

How long had it been since he’d laughed? You wondered.

 “That’s not true.” He said once he came back, shaking his head. “The media loves to twist the narrative. They needed a bad boy on the team and I just happened to be the closest thing they could find.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing because never in your whole life did you think you would hear The Winter Soldier refer to himself as a ‘bad boy’.

“That’s what they like.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

Your eyes roamed his body. From his short brunet hair to his beautiful blue eyes that shone like the night sky you saw in the windshield. Down to his short scruffy beard that made you want to run your hands against it. Feel the rough texture, touch him. To his muscular arms, you could see the definition through his thin shirt, the sleeves had been bunched up near his elbow revealing his forearms. Veiny and thick making you want to-

You snapped your head forward, forcing yourself to concentrate on the sky in front of you. You cannot think about him like this. This is just a mission. Nothing more. That means no touching an no thinking because those two things only lead to missing him, hurting him, or worse, becoming another ex-love. 

You’re not trying to play, you’re trying to get to Natasha and work. 

Your cold shift made Bucky rethink your entire conversation. Had he said something to upset you? Did he go over the line? Were his thoughts true or are they his past issues coming back? He’s got chips on both his shoulders and it shows. There he goes again with the negative self-talk. 

Sometimes Bucky wished he could shut his brain off, find the master switch and go to bed. Some days it was easier to manage than others and he’d found a way to ignore it, it was easier this way. But the days where it was harder to ease, those were true battles. His flaws, paranoia and insecurities lurked in the back of his mind like monsters in the closet. 

He’s made mistakes and made some very bad choices, that’s hard to deny but sometimes he wishes he could just forget. But with a reputation as big as his, it’s hard to get a clean slate.

The quinjet started its descent into the Avengers compound, the white building in your sights. As you got closer the plane felt bumpier, the wind was not in your favor and the landing was getting complicated. You snaked your hand on the center console at the same time as Bucky, effectively placing your hands on top of his. You felt a sudden jolt of energy that eased your nerves as your skin touched his but it was taken away far too soon. 

Your throat felt dry and you tried to push any sign of nervousness deep into that rarely visited vault in your brain. You tried to forget the feeling but you couldn’t. 

You went through a dark cloud and the rest of the landing was smooth. Your body ached from the long flight and the only thing you wanted was to get off. It had nothing to do with you wanting to get as far away from Bucky as you could, nothing to do with the strange reaction your body had to him. 

Bucky lead you through the compound, the tall walls and windows made you feel more isolated than ever. Sure, you’d been alone for a long time but here it felt like the loneliness seeped into your bones. 

“You’re safe here.” Bucky said, just above a whisper, leading you down a long corridor into the kitchen. “You don’t need to feel scared.”

You opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out. 

Bucky opened the refrigerator and pulled something out, taking it to the microwave. Bucky rested both of his hands on the edge of the kitchen island. 

“I don’t feel scared.” You finally got out, straightening your back. 

Bucky’s blue eyes softened. “I’m just saying it’s okay if you do. I know I felt that way when I got here. When you’re on the run, you’ve got nothing to lose. You’re used to the feeling of independence but here, you feel watched. Scrutinized.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Did he have the ability to look into your soul? It was the only possible answer. He was calling your bluff on all your usual tricks like it was nothing. 

You bit your bottom lip, debating whether you should open yourself to him, you were sure it had turned deep red now. 

“I usually am always the first to know everything. I always know what happens next and I plan for everything. Even when missions are over and I’ve buried hatchets, I keep maps of where I put them just in case.” You said with a laugh to try and mask the truth you spoke. “But this, Nat sending you to find me, I never expected this. I just- don’t know what happens next.” 

“I guess your reputation precedes you.” Bucky said with a smile, taking the food out of the microwave. Your nostrils flooded with the delicious scent of your favorite meal. He pushed the container towards you, slapping on a post it note from Natasha. Welcome home. It said. “They told me you’re crazy.”

A true smile ripped through you.

“I swear I don’t love the drama.” You promised. “It loves me.”

The two of you ate directly from the container, too exhausted to take plates out. Conversation died down and the silence came back. Only a few hums here and there and some stolen glances. His eyes were like liquor, tempting you and his body like gold, wanting to bring you in. You focused back on your food, wanting to erase the handprint he left on your soul from the second you saw him first, only a few hours ago. 

Author's Note: Hi hiiii I hope you guys like this second part!! If you do, you know the drill, please comment reblog and like! As always my asks are always open <3

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour

*Any gifs posted are not my own and I give the artist full credit.

#bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes os #college au #college au!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #sebastian stan x you #marvel fanfic

[crowholtz]

I want to hear more about the other NPCs in your CoS campaign! I stumbled across your Doru bio and I was baffled by how wildly different he is in your campaign vs the one I'm in. It's always so cool to learn about different adaptations of characters!

OMG I am so glad you asked

Okay I'm gonna touch my faves! Obviously spoilers for the campaign~

First up we have Escher. I love what my DM did with Escher! He's a genderfluid shapeshifter (though his main 'true' form is elven) from Waterdeep that Strahd brought to Barovia through the mists. His personality often gives me like... Double Trouble vibes from She-Ra. He's very fruity eheheh. He's an empath - literally, he has the ability to sense people's emotions when he touches them (all the True Vampires in our campaign have a Special Ability). He's a bit of a whore. he's actually a ripper (my dm sorta borrowed this term from the vampire diaries in which some vampires are just more violent and hungry than others) and was pretty bad when he first became a vampire, but he redirected his bloodlust more into sex and drugs. very Dionysian. He's very decadent and selfish, but he also does have a good capacity to care thanks to not being able to turn his empathy off, and he uses his ability to please others and be what they want him to be. He also in his mortal life had a degree in psychology from the University of Waterdeep, and is quite smart and good at reading people and their issues, though he likes to pretend he's a useless bimbo. He's currently traveling with the party because he's worried about Strahd....

Another favorite of mine is Vasili von Holtz. He's actually the reincarnation of Strahd's mortal soul in my campaign instead of just being his alter ego. Strahd thought Vasili was the reincarnation of Sergei for a while, and put Vasili through a lot of tests and trauma when he was a teenager 30 years ago to see if he'd react to situations in the way Sergei would. When he didn't, Strahd was always disappointed with Vasili. The irony being, Vasili made the decisions Strahd would have made since he has his soul, and that's what Strahd hated. Strahd essentially tortured himself and he doesn't even know. Vasili is 45 years old now, a lovable rogue, kinda scrungly. He's charming and cunning, but good. My party put him in charge of Vallaki in the form of running a council with father Lucian, Lady Wachter, and Anastrasya. He's got a bit of a drinking problem, but he wants to do good by the people. Much like Strahd, he has the mentality of "no one can do it but me. It has to be me." My character Helene is romancing him. And Strahd. It's very messy.

I have more, but I don't want this to get too long, so if you are interested in hearing about more pls send another ask ^^ my DM has made all the characters in this campaign so multifaceted and complex and interesting. Strahd is honestly my favorite -- he took his character and crafted him into such a fascinating villain and plays him really well. But god, going into Strahd's psyche and story would take a whole ass post.

I'm also gonna put more info about Doru too under a read more just to give more context to his personality!

My DM didn't honestly plan on Doru being in the campaign -- he figured he would die or remain trapped, as he often is in CoS.

In my DM's canon, Doru was a soft spoken young man romanced by Strahd and Doru agreed to become one of his brides. Doru insisted however, that during the turning process he remain close by the church in the village and his father so he could prove that even after turning into a vampire he was still himself. Doru requested Strahd not be there bc he knew Strahd's presence would spook his father. Strahd acquiesced to his request. Unfortunately in the transition, Doru's father and many of the villagers became distressed, outraged, tried holding him down to try to basically "exorcise" him. Doru's ripper instinct activated (yeah unfortunately Doru got the ripper trait) and he slaughtered and drained some of the villagers present. Donovich managed to get Doru into the basement of the church where he stayed for 10 years, though Donovich announced that Doru was dead. Strahd mourned him.

So when we managed to save Doru with a wand of polymorph (which we can thank @gothoctopus for thinking of using), it changed his creature type and therefore he could leave the consecration of the church! Then I had my character Helene "pray to her god" so she could contact Strahd when he intercepted the prayer, and she let him know that Doru was actually alive and that we rescued him. Strahd was shocked Doru was alive, and Helene had to talk him down from doing something drastic to the people of Barovia village. He was grateful, and sent down a carriage to put bunny Doru in so it could take him back to Castle Ravenloft. Strahd said that he now owed the party one favor (which Helene used in the bones of st. andral incident to make him leave us and Ireena alone for the time being).

Anyway, Doru took some time to heal at the castle. Mentally he was not doing great, and he's still trying to heal, but he is much better now. He bonded with Rahadin, who took care of him. Doru is still a faithful follower of the morninglord, which has manifested in an ability to still use radiant/healing magic despite being undead. (My DM gave all the True Vampires special abilities. Escher, for example, is an empath and can sense others emotions when he touches them!)

Doru is soft-spoken, sassy, smart, and generally wants to be a good person. His vampiric tendencies get in the way of that though, especially with his underlying bloodlust that he has to keep in check. He's always itching for a fight, but suppresses it. He's also autistic and is very cute when he infodumps :D

#curse of strahd #curse of strahd spoilers #cos blogging #escher #vasili von holtz #strahd von zarovich #doru

[gunebuggieswriting]

̶Good Bad Habits Run In The Family: Chapter Eight

DPxDC Crossover, Jason Adopts Danny AU

[AO3] [FF.net] [Wattpad]

First Chapter || << Last Chapter || Next Chapter >>

Danny was starting to feel the effect of being mostly by himself for a week. His hair was starting to feel greasy and matted, making him cringe every time he went to run his fingers through the mess. He was hungry, and the bare amount of food he was finding wasn’t making him feel better, but he was lucky it wasn’t hurting worse than it did with his ghost side helping. He was exhausted and tired of venturing the city, when it was obviously bent on keeping him trapped. He had a feeling it was much more than him just simply being lost, there was no way he was just that hopeless.

Being alone also allowed his thoughts to grow whenever he wasn’t moving or distracting himself some other way. He wanted to turn his mind off, for it to stop replaying scenes that should have never happened. He didn’t want to forget Sam, Tucker, Jazz, and everybody else who was gone, but he also had left Amity behind for a reason, he didn’t want to remember how they became gone. It was conflicting and it hurt so damn bad that his eyes would begin to burn and he would furiously wipe at them to keep the water works at bay.

A few times he couldn’t stop the sobs that tore through his throat, or the tears that would fall down his face. Sometimes he would fly high up in the air and scream and curse out the world, the pain building up in his chest overflowing into his very being. The sky never judged him for it, and from up there the city looked distant, like he wasn’t stuck there. He tried leaving from high up in those endless skies, but he would either become distracted by the beautiful stars that he could see from above the smog, or simply become trapped once again in the city.

Danny knew something else was happening, and he had a feeling it was most likely supernatural. He knew he had felt the ectoplasm the city was baked in, but he never truly gave it more thought. Now he was wondering if he should’ve, as there was something keeping him here, and he was sure it had something to do with the ever present ectoplasm. It was almost like the city was alive, and not in the sense from the very active people residing in it.

Even if something supernatural was forcing him to stay, he didn’t know why. Why would something want him here? He could feel a tug in his core that subconsciously dragged him back to the very city he no longer wanted to be in. Did the thing want him to hurt? Did it want him to constantly worry and be stuck in his thoughts? Did it want him to be in this much pain caused by his own brain? The longer he was here, the more he had to stress about the GIW finding him or the city’s own vigilantes finally figuring him out and his past. He knew they were smart people, with capabilities to access a lot of his information, including the things that happened in his hometown.

His hometown…

Danny could never go back there. Fenton was no more there. Phantom was a problem there. He had no home town. Nowhere to go. No person to return to.

He was brought out of those thoughts by a drop on his hand that was clutching his shirt with so much pressure that it looked like he was trying to rip it off. It was then that he noticed he was crying, tears slowly streaming down his face as he stared down at his ragged figure. He was dirty and shaking, his stomach rumbling lowly, demanding for something.

Damn, he really was a mess, wasn’t he?

That was all it took for him to break down once again. He trembled and slumped over, sobs racking his whole body as he cried as quietly as he could get himself to at the moment. His calloused and filthy hands clenched his pants as he tugged his knees closer, trying to block out the world with his body alone.

How he wished he could turn back the time and to that day that everything that went wrong. He never should have indulged into his selfish wants and caused all of this mess. He should’ve saved his friends, his family, everybody he hurt. If he could go back in time maybe he should go back more to that fateful day that he acquired his powers and the curse that came with it. Then none of this could’ve happened in the first place. He wouldn’t have turned into the monster he never wanted to be.

Another loud heart wrenching sob escaped his wobbling lips, which tasted of grime and blood from him biting it to try and keep his cries in. He sucked in a breath that he wished didn’t belong to him, trying to fill his lungs that were beginning to ache.

He wished he had died with them, or the other day in the alley when Red Hood found him. Actually, dying completely in that portal is what should’ve happened in the first place. Instead he couldn’t even die right, and now he was stuck in the precarious teeter that was life and death, balancing on the thin rope like the freak he was. He didn’t want to be a halfa, or a ghost at all. He hated himself, for who he was, for the things he was capable of, for what he has done.

If his parents caught him or actually got rid of him with their ghost weapons, everybody would’ve been better off. They were right, ghosts really are heartless creatures, he was proof of that. Maybe he should turn himself into the GIW, afterall, he has truly committed something worthy of whatever punishment they deemed fit.

It wasn’t fair that he got to live, even if it was only half way, it wasn’t right. What was the point of anything anymore? What was driving him to continue his pitiful half life? To continue faking that he belonged in this world, that he wasn’t an imposter to what it truly meant to be human.

. . .

He didn’t mean that, he knew it, but he felt like he did as another cry threatened to come out of his mouth as he struggled to keep it down by worrying his lip and causing blood to drip down from his small fangs. Another thing that he hated of himself, another thing that reminded him of who he was.

After several minutes of continuous sobbing and similar thoughts running in his brain, the teen took a deep breath in. He held his breath for a few seconds before releasing it in a big huff. He did that repeatedly for a few minutes, his breathing slowly evening, only breaking from a few leftover sobs and trembles.

It took a bit, much more than he would’ve liked, but he eventually got himself to calm down. He has been dealing with these breakdowns for the entire week. They would start at random moments, or any time he thought of something that sparked a memory or a different dark thought he carefully tried to keep locked up tight in his head. He would always have to get himself to breathe, a tactic he learned, and focus on that solely. He was tired of these thoughts in his head that caused him to feel so bad that he wanted to bury himself and never come out to the world again.

Every time he got himself to stop with the useless crying, he felt so exhausted that he would go find somewhere to safely sleep it off. He found himself sleeping more and more, and now it felt like no matter how much he slept he could never get enough, always leaving him tired and hazily getting through the day. He felt like he didn’t have a purpose anymore, other than to cumbersomely drag his feet and delve into all of his heavy thoughts.

He didn’t want to live like this, to be forever stuck in this life of drifting from place to place, scavenging for whatever food he could find. He missed having a home, a place he felt somewhat safe at, somewhere he would never have to leave.

Not wanting to cry again after just getting himself to stop, he stood up on wobbly feet, his whole body and mind telling him to lay back down and never get up. He ignored it, pushing it all away as he began walking in a random direction to stop himself from thinking. He allowed his eyes to carelessly wander the streets, taking everything he saw in, but it was nothing he hadn’t really seen before. He was becoming familiar with Gotham, the city becoming less like a jumbled up maze, and more so a maze that had no exits. He had been moving from place to place for days now, never staying in one spot too long in fear that somebody would try to bother him.

Not like that worked, as he already had multiple people try to mug or harm him, which he usually dealt with by running or fighting back if he had to. Not to mention the fact that he had come in contact with a variety of vigilantes, some of them more worrisome than others. He didn’t know how to feel about half of them from what he knew at the moment about them.

The pressure he felt from Signal made him cautious, as he knew there was something off with the other, if he couldn’t already tell from the way he almost appeared to be a ghost. Red Robin was laced with almost as much death as Red Hood, but it was much less prominent than the older man. He was wary of Red Robin like he was of Signal, but it was for a different reason, mainly the whole closely following and documenting him. He felt the death radiating off of the teen for several days, at random times of the day, and every time he ran. Well, that was until the last time in which he finally confronted the other. After that he hasn’t felt the same feeling again, allowing him to breathe easier.

Robin on the other hand, was a vigilante he quite liked. Not only was the kid absolutely adorably defiant and feisty, but he was much easier to be around. His presence felt much more closer to Red Hood’s, giving a more comforting effect, as he was used to Red Hood. Thinking about Red Hood, Danny didn’t know what to do.

He felt awful for straight leaving the man with little to no explanation, only a terribly vague note. Their encounter the other day didn’t help either. The bittersweet farewell was something that he wasn’t expecting when he got close to the man, but it made his core and heart ache either way.

Not feeling any better, he stopped and finally allowed his eyes to process his surroundings. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was walking, letting the city his feet go wherever they led him. Now that he was trying to decipher where he was at, he saw that he seemed to be in a more run down neighborhood. The buildings all seemed old, several crumbling in on themselves, and there was trash laying about, littering the road and alleys. Nobody but the homeless could be seen, even though the sun was still up in the sky somewhere. Danny has long lost his sense of time or direction, and he couldn’t track the sun anymore when the polluted air and constant clouds blocked every part of the sky.

Not wanting to stay standing there looking up at the sky like an idiot, Danny continued to walk. He really should be finding somewhere to rest, but a part of him insisted on walking, so he kept going. What was the harm in it at this point?

It wasn’t until he finally felt like stopping that he realized where he was. Right in front of him was the very warehouse he had left around a week ago. It felt like forever ago now, those days seeming more like distant memories from the gray colored world he stumbled through. He couldn’t help but remember the last thing that Red Hood told him.

“Fine then Danny, just know that you can always come to me if anything happens.”

The man’s words echoed in Danny’s mind, and his eyes teared up a bit once more. He thought about the past week since he’s been on his own. How much he craved for a shower, good food, and somebody to talk to. He had all that and more from Red Hood, who had offered it so carelessly. The man never asked for anything back, and let the teen leave just like that, without any grievances or problems. He even offered to take him back in again, to help him again, even though he knew nothing of Danny.

Danny wanted to take that offer right about now. He’s been feeling so hopeless without anybody there to guide him. How stupid was that? He couldn’t even take care of himself. He had all this power, yet he couldn’t do anything to help himself. He really was a mess.

He stared longingly at the warehouse, wanting to return to a few weeks ago, when it was just him and Red Hood. It was much easier then, when he wasn’t fighting to keep half of himself alive or all of his bottled up tears from spilling into the open air. He had liked reading for the first time in his life. He had liked the food that the anti-hero brought him, a lot of it seeming home made with so much effort that Danny sometimes felt guilty eating it as quickly as he did. He had liked having somebody to talk to, somebody who didn’t press for answers that he didn’t feel comfortable saying.

He liked staying with Red Hood.

He shouldn’t go back though, it would be selfish of him. To go back on his words and force the baggage that he came with onto another person. He couldn’t take advantage of another person he cared about again, continuously taking whatever they offered, never giving anything back.

Sighing with heavy lungs, he turned around to leave, his feet moving slowly. His chest became more and more compressed with every step he took. He wanted to turn back around and enter the warehouse, to look and see if he could find the man, tell him that he wanted to stay with him again. Though he wouldn’t let himself, already set on leaving the other alone, and, well, he was known for being stubborn.

“Danny?” He froze when he heard his name come out of a terrifyingly familiar modified voice. “What are you doing here? I thought you would’ve been gone by now.”

Danny slowly turned around to face Red Hood who was walking towards him, coming out of a building he had just passed. “I, well, I…” He began, his hands moving as he tried to explain himself. He couldn’t tell Red Hood that he was somehow stuck in the city, that no matter where he went he couldn’t leave. He also didn’t want to admit to the man that he wanted to return to his place with him. “I don’t know.” He gave up with a defeated sigh, slumping over and looking at the ground. He willed himself not to tear up again, already feeling his eyes starting to warm up.

“When’s the last time you ate, it’s only been a week and you already look more like a twig.” Red Hood commented, his accidental worried tone being covered by the modifier, which he was grateful for. Danny winced at the words, subconsciously wrapping his arms over his stomach as he twisted his body a bit in an attempt to hide his pitiful state. Red Hood immediately noticed and became worried, and a bit pissed, mainly at himself for both asking such an insensitive thing and not realizing that the teen probably hasn’t eaten much since he left. “Alright, we’re having dinner. I have food at my place, come on.”

He said turning and walking back to his apartment. He knew he probably shouldn’t allow anybody in his own personal apartment, but it was the only place that he kept a good amount of food he was certain wasn’t spoiled. He also didn’t want to overwhelm Danny by taking him somewhere with a group of people, which really limited it down to his apartment. It didn’t matter to him, he trusted that Danny wouldn’t try anything.

Danny, on the other hand, was completely surprised and it took a few seconds to realize what Red Hood had said and to catch up as the man walked. His mouth watered at the thought of food, and it was then he realized how dry his mouth felt as well. His lips were no longer bleeding, but they were cracked and dry from the frequent biting and lack of water. Hopefully he would be given some water too, as he doesn’t know if he could swallow much food with how closed and dry his throat felt. It was like a desert formed right inside his mouth.

Following Red Hood back to wherever he was taking him, Danny thought about how much he must trust the other to blindly follow him. He was extremely hungry and parched, maybe that was why he was so willing. Or he could be actually trusting Red Hood after everythings he’s done for him.

They got to Red Hood’s apartment, which was on the top floor of a renovated complex that he had fixed up. Danny walked inside, looking around the space he was now in, noticing how comfortable he immediately felt. It wasn’t too filled, or too empty, with just enough personality that somebody could tell that a person lived here. It didn’t look like what he had imagined the anti-hero’s place to be, he never thought it would be this homey. He liked it though.

They first walked into the small living room, which had a large opening to a small kitchen, and a hallway leading to a couple of rooms. Red Hood went straight to the kitchen, and Danny didn’t waste any time to enter right after him, as the teen didn’t know if he was allowed to be alone in the other’s living space. He felt like he was intruding, that he shouldn't be here.

“Welcome to my place. I know it isn’t much, but it’s home.” The man said as he rummaged through his cabinets and fridge, looking for something for the two of them to eat while Danny awkwardly stood to the side near the doorway. Then Hood froze, and tilted his head. It was like that for a minute, and he kept tossing his head back and forth, like he was arguing with himself, then quit and walked to the bar. He unbuckled his helmet and started taking it off, making Danny’s eyes widen with surprise, then he put the red item on the counter top. “I don’t really feel like eating with that on, plus, it was about time you saw my handsome face.”

Red Hood looked up, and Danny stared at his face, his eyes still wide. Red Hood, the well known crime lord, had just taken off his helmet in front of Danny, showing his face. He weirdly had a domino underneath, but still! It was something that Danny couldn’t believe the man trusted him with, on top of allowing him in his apartment.

“I know, I’m beautiful.” He said from Danny staring quietly for so long, before spinning around and going back to preparing what looked like was going to be a grilled cheese sandwich from the bread, cheese, and butter out. “You can sit down at the bar if you want, instead of quietly standing in the corner like a vampire.”

“Yeah, okay.” Danny awkwardly responded, quickly shuffling over to the bar seats and carefully sitting himself in one of them. Red Hood turned on the stove, plopping two slices of buttered bread on the pan and watched it. Danny didn’t want to sit in silence, stuck only with his thoughts and the sizzle of the pan, so he opened his mouth to talk. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Hmm, well, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be.” Red Hood said casually, shrugging his broad shoulders as he flipped over one of the sandwiches to toast the other side. “You seem like a good kid, I don’t want you to die on the streets.”

Only if Danny could die that way. “How are you so sure that I’m a good kid? For all you know I could be selling drugs and beating up others for money.”

“Oh yeah, like a twig like you could do anything like that. You’re not even from Gotham.” Red Hood replied with a flat tone, glad that his voice was no longer being modified anymore so he could speak properly. He knew that Danny could possibly do something if he wanted, but it’s been several weeks and the brat hasn’t tried anything, so he felt like he wouldn’t at this point. He had a gut feeling the teen never would.

Danny hummed noncommittally, thinking about how he could easily harm others if he wanted. He’s done it before. “So you making grilled cheeses?”

“No, I’m making pancakes, what does it fucking look like?” Red Hood said sarcastically as he flipped over the sandwiches again. “They’re about done by the way.”

“Good, because I’m hungry for some of your food.” Danny said honestly while laying his head on his arms on the bar top, his stomach growling at the perfect moment, driving his point home.

“I bet you are. What the hell were you thinking staying on the streets with nowhere to go? I already told you Gotham isn’t a good place to be, especially without a home.” The man scolded, taking the chance to try and talk some sense into the teen, and get some answers at the same time.

“I was trying to leave, but let’s just say that it seems that I need to stay here for a bit.” Danny said, his face turning red from embarrassment at his lack of good reasoning.

“And you decided that the best way to do that was to just wander around alone on the streets? You could’ve been kidnapped, or mugged, or hell, even killed!” Red Hood continued to reprimand the poor boy, pointing his spatula at the teen.

The not so funny thing was the fact that Danny had to deal with all of those things the entire last week he has been on the streets. “I know! But I just didn’t know what to do!”

“Well, you can’t stay on the streets. Especially if you’re not eating, can’t have you any more of a twig than you already are shortstack.” Red Hood said with finality, narrowing his eyes before going back to the food, which he was preparing to put on a couple of plates.

Danny chewed nervously on his lip again, sliding down his chair a bit as he looked away. Red Hood was right. No matter how much Danny wanted to deny it. He couldn’t stay on the streets if he was going to stay in Gotham. Could he stay with Red Hood then? He did already offer for him to stay with him, or was that offer off the table now? Did the man even want him to stay?

A delicious smell attacked Danny’s nose as a plate was set in front of him, his mouth watering even more as his eyes became glued to the food. “Here you go brat, enjoy.” Red Hood said before, also sitting down a glass of water and his own food and drink before sitting right next to Danny.

Danny didn’t hesitate to take a big gulp of water before picking up the sandwich and taking a massive bite out of it. He barely chewed before swallowing, his hunger spiking from the taste of food in his mouth as he craved for more. He quickly filled that craving by eating the rest of the sandwich and drinking the rest of the water. He sat back, pretty much fulfilled and more satisfied than he felt in a week. A plate was pushed towards him, and he noticed that it was Red Hood’s untouched sandwich.

“Eat it, I’m sure you’re still hungry. Plus I’m not that hungry at the moment since I ate lunch pretty late.” Red Hood said after watching the kid tear apart the grilled cheese much like he did when he first found him with that spaghetti. It was true that he ate lunch late with his commanders, as he’s been in meetings with them all day planning on how to forward his plan on fixing up Crime Alley. It was actually the reason he was able to catch Danny at the time he did.

“No, no, I’m good. Please, go ahead and eat it. I promise I’m not hungry!” Danny quickly denied, pushing back the plate. He didn’t want to take Red Hood’s food after already eating his own that the man made. That would just be rude and not very good guest courtesy.

“Brat, if you do not eat this right now, I will fight you.” When Danny looked like he was about to argue some more, Red continued. “I swear, I’m not hungry right now. Eat it.”

Danny tried his hardest to argue, to tell Red Hood that he didn’t want it, but he eventually gave in. He did still feel like eating more, and the first grilled cheese tasted so good. He took a bite out of the sandwich, more slowly this time, getting a better taste of the flavor instead of devouring it in mere seconds.

Red Hood had refilled the teen’s cup, who gratefully drank it again after finishing the second sandwich. It was then that Red Hood decided he couldn’t let Danny go back to the streets, to starve and dehydrate like he had been doing. He saw a bit of himself with Danny, a street kid with nowhere to go, and just like he would’ve wanted all that time ago, he wanted to give Danny a place to be at and be safe. “Stay with me.” He blurted out, not giving it any more thought.

Danny almost choked the third cup of water he was drinking, swallowing thickly before putting the cup down and looking up at Red Hood with wide eyes. “What?”

“Stay in this apartment with me. I have an extra room and plenty of food. You won’t have to be on the streets and I won’t have to go gray early.” Jason quickly added, trying his hardest not to scare Danny away again. He put on a teasing grin. “I promise I won't bite, unlike somebody.”

“Are you sure? What about your secret identity and everything else?” Danny asked, his eyes gleaming with barely restrained hope and happiness.

Jason, seeing that barely noticeable hope, becomes very sure. He took off his domino mask and looked Danny straight into his icy blue eyes that somehow grew wider. He put on another smile, and spoke with confidence. “The name’s Jason.”

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc fic #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #dc x dp fanfic #dp x dc fanfiction #dc x dp fanfiction #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc au #dc x dp au #dp dc crossover #my fic #mine #jason adopts danny au

[warrenwaskilledbyadeer]

Y'all can I ramble about how similar the two Daniels are for a minute 'cause like WOW

They both have tragic/traumatic childhoods and crave connection because of it, they both took refuge in history/academia/archeology and became experts in linguistics, they both went on one (1) expedition that changed their whole universes forever

And they BOTH have equal potential for great good and great evil, and that's the most fascinating part about them to me

I feel like they're each others' shadows tbh

Daniel of Mayfair is the one who chose the evil and Daniel Jackson is the one who chose the good

They both have very selfish/self-serving tendencies, and have "for the greater good" mindsets much of the time in LOTS of situations where it probably shouldn't be applied, and they're both obsessive yet impulsive

Daniel of Mayfair was thrown headlong into a world he didn't understand where everyone was manipulating him and trying to take advantage of him, and in every situation in which he was presented with a moral choice he ultimately chose the wrong

Daniel Jackson was thrown headlong into a world no one on earth understood with people who were very passionate about helping him figure it out and cared about him, and is FREQUENTLY presented with moral choices by his pseudo father figure purposefully to make sure he makes the right choice

In Thor's Hammer, Jack makes Daniel be the one to hold the staff and shoot the hammer, he makes Daniel choose to save Teal'c's life over potentially being able to save his wife and brother-in-law's lives at some point in the future, and when Daniel is standing there hesitating Jack mutters, "Come on" because he's pulling for him to make the right choice and looks palpably relieved when Daniel does shoot the hammer

In The Torment of Tantalus, when Daniel says he'd rather die than leave this universe-altering knowledge behind and begs Jack to let him stay, Jack does, but stays at the bottom of the stairs and waits. And sure enough a mere moment later Daniel sighs and turns back to leave with Jack

And in Bloodlines, when Daniel is NOT with Jack and is just with Sam, Sam tells him killing the infant goulds would make them just as bad as the goulds are, but Daniel turns and shoots them anyway, and Sam looks legitimately afraid of him in that moment

Daniel Jackson clearly needs a steady, guiding hand keeping him on the straight and narrow, much like another Daniel I know

That's why I have my whole au where Hazel and the ghost of Elise team up to make sure Daniel becomes a decent man, because he obviously has the potential as long as he makes the right choices

And I think it'll go pretty well for them, considering how much success Jack has had with Dr. Jackson

But the point of all this was that I feel like each of them could just as easily have become the other in different situations

#just me rambling #i scream into the void

[unfoundhoney]

a sister’s sacrifice ; part three ↠

↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; angst just angst

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;

↠ @leafyturtle @basheverythingyesterday @terribletoothbat @bestioe @junoblad3 @machiebach @ok-honey

when considering the deaths of the people on the dream smp server, yours is the hardest

schlatt was detested by all when he’d died

few people still truly cared for wilbur when he met his end; the man he once was was long gone by then

but you

you never changed

you were a constant for so many & immovably kind to the rest

selfless, giving, caring

even when you just wanted an escape, you came to the aid of your brothers

you gave the ultimate sacrifice & paid the price

everyone mourns you

when the battle is won & dream locked away indefinitely

once everyone has come down from the high of freeing themselves from dream’s reign, the server goes into a state of grieving

there’s no denying your death

they all saw the message in chat

you’re dead

those that were close to you took it hard

niki was narrowly stopped from burning down the bakery you encouraged her to open and helped build

eret put her emotions into work on a memorial in their museum for you

even under the egg’s control, bad & ant put the eggpire aside for you

of course, those who took it the hardest is your family

when ghostbur learns of your death, he’s distraught

he doesn’t quite know how to handle the information

he protects your home & only allows people to enter when he supervises them

tommy took a while to move past his anger & deal with the fact that you’re gone

tubbo ran off to start snowchester

he chose to distract himself rather than truly process his emotions, even if you’d always done your best to break that habit of his

now that you’re not around, who’s to stop him from letting himself be numb to it all?

techno is another one of your family members who chose to barely acknowledge your passing

he became somehow more monotonous & emotionless

and phil

...

there’s no word for a parent who loses a child

wilbur was gone & of course it messed phil up to be the one to take will’s last life but by that point his son was gone

but you

you’d always been such a genuinely good person

phil did so little for you as a father

he was so absent

he never apologized to you for that

he never told you how much he loves & appreciates you & everything you’ve done to keep their family together when he couldn’t be bothered

it’s a few hours after he received the news from ranboo that all the guilt for everything he had ever put you through hit him

he broke down in his kitchen while trying to distract himself by organizing his cupboards

but all he could think about was you

you & your never ending kindness & compassion

he was never a father to you

yet you never hated him

why couldn’t you have hated him?

it would hurt less to lose you if you hated him; it’s what he deserves

he’s unworthy of your love

but he can only dwell so long on you

you are given a proper funeral

you’re buried by the seashore, somewhere between l’manberg and tommy’s abandoned vacation homes in an open field

the sever members plant so many flowers, your gravesite becomes a flower field

but soon, life goes on

it will only hurt for longer to draw out the mourning period

it would do no good for anyone

besides, you wouldn’t want the server to be sad for your sake

techno supposes it’s for the best that you died

he does his best to move on, filling his days with resource gathering and upgrading his tools, weapons, and armor while trying to think through his emotions logically

as much as he liked you

as much as everyone liked you, you were too good

you were the best of them

fate is not kind to heroes

“hello!”

technoblade is not an easy man to sneak up on, let alone scare

the greeting itself isn’t want startles him

it’s turning toward the voice to lock eyes with you

you who is dead

techno is not proud of the sound he made when he saw you but you of all people wouldn’t make fun of him for it

he just stares at you, slowly realizing what’s happened

you look desaturated, the color drained from your clothes

your skin is grey & almost translucent

you’re a ghost

“y/n.”

“hello! who are you?”

techno tells no on one of your ghost form

he even keeps the rest of the server a secret from you

he leads you to your old home & leaves you there w/ ghostbur

he hopes your and ghostbur’s combined amnesia will keep you out of harm’s way i.e. the rest of the server

he visits you occasionally but mostly leaves you be

you live happily with ghostbur for a while

he is very glad to have you back

his memory is nearly as bad as yours, so the story of the server & what happened to you when you were alive is only given to you in bits & pieces that are near impossible to fit together

it was only a matter of time before someone came to visit your house

“...y/n?”

it’s tubbo who finds you first

or he finds your ghost

(tubbo) y/n! oh my god! you’re a ghost! you’ve come back!

(you) hello! *whispers* ghostbur, who is this?

(ghostbur, whispering obviously) that’s tubbo, one of your other brothers i’ve told you about

(you, whispering) oh, right

(tubbo) how long have you- oh, this is incredible! i have to tell tommy! he’s been so sad since you died; he’ll be so glad to see you!

tubbo messages tommy, who is skeptical but reluctantly comes to your house anyway

but there you are

your ghost anyway

which is good enough, honestly

(tommy) y/n!

you catch him in a hug easily, even if you’ve never met him before

(tommy) you’re alive!

(you) no i’m not. i’m a ghost!

techno happens to check in on you when tubbo & tommy are there

bad news for technoblade: you’d told them about techno leading you here

meaning: tommy knows techno hid you from him & everyone else

needless to say, he is not too happy about that

(tommy) you hid her! you kept her away from us!

(techno) tommy, you have to understand-

(tommy) i don’t have to understand shit! you hid her from us! you lied to us!

(techno) tommy-

(tommy) you kept her from everyone! you’re selfish and you’re a liar and you’re horrible and-

(techno) i did it to protect her! she’s been hurt enough protecting others; it’s our turn to protect her. the only way we can do that is by leaving her alone

(tommy) she’s my sister

(techno) your sister is dead, tommy. for once in her life, let her have peace

tommy gives up on techno & goes to you instead

(tommy) y/n! y/n, we can bring you back. we can revive you. well, dream can revive you but he’s in prison so he has to do what we say so we can bring you back. we can be a family again. don’t you want to come back?

(you) ...no

that

...

that isn’t what tommy was expecting

(tommy) what?

(you) if alive y/n comes back, i won’t exist anymore. and i’ve only just got here. i don’t want to go yet

(tommy) don’t you understand how much y/n means to me? y/n has to come back. she has to. she’s so important. not just to me but to, um... tubbo as well! right, tubbo? don’t you want y/n back?

tommy looks to tubbo for some backup but the shorter boy looks away

(tubbo) i think we need to let y/n go, tommy

the betrayal that fills tommy’s chest is soon gone as he locks eyes with techno

tommy knows techno is right

you’re too much of a good person

you’re too willing to sacrifice yourself for others

even as a ghost your kindness is blinding

this server will only drain you of everything you have yet again

he will drain you of everything you are

he’s just tried to convince you to cease to exist to bring back the former version of yourself

(you) i’m sorry. it’s just- i’ve heard there are these really pretty blue flowers in the swamp biome that i haven’t got to see yet-

(tommy) no. it’s fine. i’m sorry. i-... i should go.

tommy leaves your house & tubbo goes with him

even if tubbo caught on a bit sooner to techno’s reasoning, he’s still concerned at his friend’s sudden change in character

(tubbo) tommy... are you alright?

(tommy) ...i really want her back

(tubbo) i do, too. but she’s gone

(tommy) she doesn’t have to be

tubbo can’t argue with that

(tommy) but... maybe it’s for the best

(tubbo) really?

(tommy) yeah.

(tubbo) but just earlier you were telling me about your plan to get the revive book from dream

(tommy) techno’s right, tubbo. all everyone- myself included- has ever done to y/n is take. and she’s given everything

(tubbo) because she loved us

(tommy) as much as she loved us and as much as we loved her... the only thing we’ve ever brought her is pain. i think now... now is her time to rest.

(tubbo) ...that’s very pog champ of you, big man

tommy had planned to visit dream as many times as it took to get the revive book location off of him so he could revive you, but now he’s accepted that he needs to move on

he needs to move on from you & dream & everything dream has put him through

he decides to pay one last visit to dream, put him behind him, & never look back

he’s ready to start a new chapter in his life, one without dream

and the first one without you

but then he’s locked in the prison

two weeks pass

nearing three weeks & tommy still isn’t allowed out of dream’s cell

he’s irritated and annoyed and most of all he’s scared

but he can’t let dream know he’s still afraid of him, that’s why he pisses dream off enough to the point of being beat to death

tommy begs him to stop

but then he’s gone

everything is dark

black

empty

nothing

is this what death is?

conscious in absolute nothingness?

tommy’s feet feel the ground beneath him

his senses come back to him

it’s still dark but he feels as though he can see again

where is he?

heaven?

no, probably hell

or maybe neither?

both...?

what the hell happened?

the first thing to break the silence is the voice tommy has known since he was an infant

the voice of the person who raised him

the voice of the person who has always been there for him

the voice of the person who he has finally let go of

your voice

saying one simple word

“tommy?”

#mcyt #mcyt x reader #dream smp #dsmp #minecraft youtubers #dream smp x reader #mcyt fanfic #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #technoblade #technoblade x reader #philza #philza x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #tubbo #tubbo x reader #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois x reader #tommyinnit fanfic #tommyinnit fanfiction #technoblade fanfic #technoblade fanfiction #philza fanfic #philza fanfiction #tubbo fanfic #tubbo fanfiction #wilbur soot fanfic

[bwbatta]

The five times James Potter asked you to marry him

(and the one time he meant it)

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Sexual content, swearing

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: I saw this done with Fred somewhere but can’t remember who it was that wrote it, so thought I’d do the same with our boy James. There is also a lil bit of smutty goodness within this so please don’t read if this offends you or if you are underage! 

One

The first time James Potter asked you to marry him was when he first met you. 

Quidditch season had begun and Gryffindor vs Slytherin was the first game, enticing everyone to the stands to watch the two rival teams battle it out. James was aware of the new team members he was playing against, but blissfully unaware of how one of them was you. 

Their Gryffindor keeper had just saved a goal from your teammate, throwing the quaffle to James, only for it to be stolen from his grasp before he could blink. 

“What the-”

His eyes caught sight of your green quidditch robes as you zipped away, throwing the quaffle for another goal and succeeding as it soared through. The Slytherin stands erupted into cheers, but James could barely focus on it as he was too focused on you. 

Shaking it off, James pushed himself to focus on the game again, more determined to score, yet when you somehow stole the quaffle away from him another time, he couldn’t help but laugh. 

Had Slytherin finally recruited a decent quidditch player?!

The sarcastic thought barely slipped through his mind before the quaffle vanished from his hands a third time. 

“Prongs!” Sirius flew up beside him, pointing his beater’s bat towards him in an accusing way, “stop giving her the bloody quaffle!”

James just rolled his eyes before flying off towards you with the intent to nick it back. 

Whilst you easily avoided a bludger that Sirius had hit towards you, James quickly pinched back the quaffle in the split second you were distracted. With a cheeky grin in your direction, he winked and flew towards the Slytherin goals. 

After that, it became more of a game between the two of you rather than the actual match. Stealing the quaffle back and forth had you both snickering at the other when they lost it. 

With the commentator suddenly breaking the information that the two seekers were in a battle to catch the snitch, James’ attention shifted for just a moment to watch, which was just long enough for you to steal the quaffle away once more, just as the game ended.

Noticing the quaffle no longer in his grip, his attention shot to you where you held up the ball with a grin, winking back at him. 

Despite the two of you messing around with each other the whole game, neither of you had said a word to the other. Breaking the silence between the two of you, James couldn’t help but laugh, despite the fact Gryffindor had just lost after Regulus Black had caught the snitch for Slytherin. 

“Marry me.” He grinned widely at you as you smiled back just as big. 

“Not today.” You snickered, winking at him once more before flying down to join your team. 

Sirius appeared beside his best mate with an odd expression on his face, having just witnessed the exchange. 

“Am I missing something?”

James just chuckled, but his gaze stayed on you, watching as you cheered along with you team at the win. He wasn’t aware of who you were before the game, but he was very aware of you now. 

Two

Despite the fact you were sorted in Slytherin, you didn’t get along with certain members of your house. The common room always seemed to be the hotspot for wannabe dark wizards who publicly shared their common views on blood status and who wasn’t worthy of studying magic. 

It was something you didn’t agree with and so avoided as much as you could. This was why you sought your refuge in one of the alcoves off the third floor corridor. It was quiet and you didn’t get nearly as distracted as you would if you had stayed in the common room, or even the library for that matter. 

Hearing a loud swear and then the sound of feet pounding down the corridor, you couldn’t help but be curious. Sticking your head out, you had to admit you weren’t surprised to see a panicked James Potter and Sirius Black running down the corridor towards you. 

The loud shout from behind them, which could only have come from Professor McGonagall, followed them as it echoed down the hall. 

The corridor came to a dead end and the two friends shared a look of dread. Before you knew what came over you, you stuck your head out and whispered to them.

“Psst,” their attention was immediately on you, “in here.”

Stepping out of your spot, the two boys clambered in as you walked down the corridor to come face to face with a furious Professor McGonagall. 

“Miss Y/L/N,” she controlled her anger as she questioned you, “have you seen Mr Potter or Mr Black come down here?”

“The two Gryffindors?” You inquired, your face void of anything that would give you away, “not down here, no, though judging from the noise and smell of chaos, I think they went that way.” 

Pointing down the direction of the opposite hall, the professor thanked you before turning and storming down it, turning the corner at the end and disappearing from sight.

With a snicker, you turned and headed back to find both James and Sirius with huge grins on their faces. 

“Oh, you’re not just a normal Slytherin are you?!” James gleamed, stepping forward, out of the hiding spot. 

“A normal Slytherin?!”

“Conniving, back stabbing, selfish.” Sirius listed off, “my entire family’s full of them, but you are different.”

“Glad I could break the Stereotype.” You shrugged a shoulder, before your attention shifted to James. “What did you two do anyway which set off McGonagall like that?!”

The pair of Gryffindor’s looked slightly sheepish suddenly as if they were reluctant to say. 

“Uhhh, maybe because we set up a prank for some Slytherins’ to drop honey and feathers on them as they walked through the Great Hall, but McGonagall ended up walking through it instead.” James grimaced at the memory of how furious the teacher was. 

“Well that was stupid,” you snorted whilst grabbing your bag from the floor, “she obviously just vanished it. Next time you should definitely add a sticking charm so they can’t just magic it away. Oh and get the right target. As far as I’m concerned, the Slytherin’s that are the biggest dickheads are fair game, deal?”

“Marry me.” James gazed at you like you just discovered the stars.

With a small laugh and a roll of your eyes, your attention was quickly drawn to a piece of folded parchment on the ground which you were sure wasn’t yours.

“What’s this?” You questioned as you caught sight of the front. “Messers Moony, Wormta- hey!”

“Nothing!” Sirius said quickly, snatching it from your grip and tucking it away.

“Yeah because if it was nothing, you wouldn’t just rip it out of my hands now?!” You snickered, “you know if you really don’t want it to be read, you should put a password phrase on it to at least make it look like it’s nothing.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Sirius grinned, “you know, you’re not that bad.”

“So I’ve been told.” You laughed back at him, completely missing how James was grinning at you with utter wonder in his eyes.

Three

After inspiring the Gryffindor duo with both the prank idea and how to further the map, you didn’t expect that James and Sirius would rarely leave you alone. 

Because of this, you were introduced to Remus and Peter since both James and Sirius had determined you should be friends, especially when you could give them inside knowledge on which Slytherins to go after.  

You weren’t sure how to feel about it at first, but after a while it became natural to sit with the boys for breakfast or dinner. 

You also didn’t expect to see Amycus Carrow walk through the common room late one evening, mysteriously covered in honey and feathers after relaying a snide comment to you about your newfound friends.

The satisfaction you got from seeing Carrow try to explain there was obviously a sticking charm, preventing him from vanishing the sticky mess to his friends, was so much better than you could’ve imagined. You told the boys that very thing the next day. 

It also wasn’t long before James took the plunge and asked you out to Hogsmeade. 

The two of you had grown close despite your different houses, yet you both couldn’t deny there was a major attraction between you. (Something Sirius constantly commented on.)

Which was why you found yourself in the Three Broomsticks with James, laughing over butterbeers with story he told you.

“So then Remus enters the room to find it destroyed with Sirius handcuffed to his bed, naked, with only a pillow covering him. And you know what he said, like any other Tuesday? ‘I heard they’re serving Pie for dinner tonight’.”

“I’m telling you, those Ravenclaw girls are devious! Maybe even more so than us Slytherins!”

“Well if it’s any consolation, I would hate to get on your bad side.” James grinned at you, raising his glass.

“I’ll drink to that.” You snickered, clinking your glass with his. 

“Well well, I wouldn’t have expected to see you in here with this riffraff, Y/N.” A cold voice was heard from behind you. “Then again, you did always hang around with the wrong sort, a blood traitor no less.”

Turning around, your eyes met the steely blue ones of Lucius Malfoy. 

“Don’t call me by my first name like we’re friends, Malfoy. And for the record, at least I don’t associate myself with wannabe death eaters, like your friends.”

To further your point, your eyes flickered over to the group where Malfoy was originally sat, the group containing the Carrows, Mulciber and Snape.

Lucius’ expression was tight, yet both James and you could see the look of hate in his eyes. 

“You should leave.” James stood to match Lucius’ height as he rounded the table, effectively putting himself between the two of you. The two men stared each other down.

“And why should I?” Lucius questioned back, his voice cold. 

“Because it would be an absolute shame if anyone found out about your midnight visitor the other night. Right, Malfoy?” You questioned with a innocent look on your face. 

Standing up and linking your arm with James’, Lucius’ eyes snapped to you as you held his expression with a stern one of your own. 

“A Hufflepuff, wasn’t she? And a muggleborn no less. Which is weird because, aren’t you engaged to Narcissa Black? I wonder what her family would think, them being the ‘Noble House of Black’ and all?” 

Lucius looked furious, but you held his glare firmly, only for him to step back a few moments later, allowing a space for you to pass. Pulling James along with you, you headed towards the door with a spring in your step like you hadn’t just blackmailed one of the Slytherin prefects.  

“Ooh, can we go to Honeydukes? I need to stock up on chocolate frogs.”

James was stunned, captivated and slightly aroused. 

Watching you take on Malfoy like it was nothing more than a brain training activity, made him laugh in wonder as the two of you exited onto the street. 

You kept talking about the new limited edition sugar quills before you paused, realising James wasn’t really listening to you anymore. 

“Hey, you alright?”

“Marry me.”

With a grin, you just linked arms with him again, the two of you heading in the direction of the sweet shop, a growing list of sugary items to buy. 

Four

With a groan of pleasure, James pulled you tighter to him as you moaned out his name, your hands wound in his hair making it appear a lot messier than usual. 

The two of you had graduated Hogwarts only a few months ago, and after dating for just over two years, James asked you to move in with him once you finished school. 

The small flat the two of you shared was found in Diagon Alley, above the quidditch shop, which you wondered whether he had planned or not when he first suggested you view the place. Sirius and Remus had their own flat which the former had bought for the two with the money he had inherited from uncle, after being disowned from his family. 

Your small group of friends supported him the best you could, which included Sirius moving in with James and his parents for a while as they finished Hogwarts. Yet, when they entered the final months of their seventh year at school, Sirius insisted he would look for his own place, not wanting to intrude longer than he already had, not that the Potters’ would call him staying with them an intrusion of any kind. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” James gasped out as he quickened his pace, thrusting into you faster as you christened the different rooms. 

You had both started in your bedroom before moving to the living room, kitchen and then the bathroom, before ending up back in your room once more. 

His lips met your own as you pulled him by his neck closer to you, wrapping you legs around his waist tighter, effectively getting James to hit a spot deep within you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. 

Quickening his pace, James used his expert fingers to bring you closer to your brink, before you gasped out loudly, quickly reaching your climax. The feeling of you coming around him had James grunting out, thrusting harder to chase his own release. 

Gripping your headboard, he came with a groan, muttering your name over and over as he pulled you close to him, both of you basking in the bliss that came from the several orgasms you’d both experienced over the last few hours. 

“Marry me.” James murmured into you hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Maybe later.” You chuckled, exhaustion now hitting you hard as you both relaxed back in bed. “Too tired now.”

James snickered as he pulled a blanket over the two of you, finding a comfortable position as you curled up together, both utterly content within that perfect moment. 

Five

A lot had changed since you left Hogwarts and being inducted into the Order of the Phoenix was just one of them. 

Your closest friends were also recruited which both reassured you and terrified you. As much as you were glad that you were fighting on the right side of the war with the people you could trust with your life, if anything happened to any of them, you don’t know what you’d do. 

It was suppose to be a small mission, just quick enough to gain intel for the Order which was why Moody chose only a select few of you to complete it. 

James, Remus and you, accompanied by Lily Evans, who you had been properly introduced to in your seventh year, were the four chosen for the task. This of course had annoyed Sirius to no end as he hadn’t been picked and constantly moaned about it the few days prior. 

Accidentally setting off the taboo alarm, death eaters apparated before you causing the four of you to split into two’s, fighting back to back. 

Quickly hitting the three death eaters before you with a stunning spell, you turned and shot another ‘stupefy’ at one who had their wand aimed at Lily. She successfully took out a couple more as she was back to back with you, sharing a grin at how well both of your training had helped you.  

Glancing over at James unconsciously, you spotted one sneak up behind him as he was separated from Remus after one death eater blew up the floor beneath them. 

With the first spell that flew to mind, you aimed your wand at the advancing threat, shooting a bat bogey hex at them, just as their killing curse missed James by inches, only for him to be hit by a weak confundus charm.

You were certain your heart skipped several beats due to the stress and anxiety as you dropped to your knees next to him on the ground. His nose was obviously broken from one spell shot at him and a dazed expression was present on his face.

Taking his face in between your hands, you quickly got a good look at him to check for more injuries as Lily and Remus stunned the last of the attackers and started to round them up. 

“James, can you hear me?”

“Y/N,” he grinned widely, “what are you doing here?”

“Saving your arse from being killed.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile on your face at how dopey your boyfriend looked. 

“You always save my arse, I think you quite like my arse really.” James snickered loudly like he had just told a funny joke. “I think you might want to marry my arse. Ooh, I think you should really marry me though.”

You chuckled at him, quickly fixing his broken nose and helping him up. 

“It means you’ll have to actually propose to me then, with a proposal better than that, my love.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

James nodded, deep in thought before his eyes lifted to spot Remus and immediately he waved an arm to try get his attention.

“MOONY! I NEED YOUR HELP TO PROPOSE.”

Six

The truth was, as much as James joked about it, and as much as he said it within the span of meeting you, you did not expect it for one moment when he actually asked you to marry him. 

Saturday started off as any normal weekend would.

With the promise from Dumbledore to call only if it was an emergency, your group of friends was given the day off and so a plan was set in motion to have dinner at yours and James’ flat. Despite popular belief, James could actually cook very well and so insisted on whipping up a roast dinner for you all, shooing you out of the kitchen when you tried to help. 

Sitting around your dining table with your closest friends, you couldn’t have asked for a better day. It was the first in a while where everyone could relax slightly and take the time to enjoy themselves. 

Remus and you were in a discussion about a book he had recommended to you, when James entered the room with the meal, putting it in the centre of the table. Whilst Sirius was avidly denying James could cook, Lily and you snickered between you as you watched the boys interact with each other. 

The meal went by quickly, everyone enjoying their time together before Lily and you cleared the plates away as a compromise, after James cooked everything. 

You didn’t suspect anything going on until you reentered the room to find the boys in a hushed discussion, giant smiles on their faces, jumping away from each other after noticing you return. 

“Everything okay?” You asked slightly suspicious as the four boys shrugged off your concerns. 

“Yeah, absolutely perfect, wanna sit down?” Sirius wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you to the living room with the others following. 

“You’re acting weird, Siri.” 

“I am weird, honey, I was born into the House of Black.”

With a smile and narrowed eyes, you decided to ignore whatever secret it was the boys had, and focused on enjoying the time you had together.

It wasn’t until James stood and grabbed your hands, pulling you up from your seat, that you became slightly suspicious again. 

“Y/N, if you don’t mind, I’d like to say something to you and all our friends.”

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he brought you closer to him, pressing a kiss to your head. Wrapping your own arm around his waist in turn, you cuddled close to him, feeling absolutely content. 

“As we all know,” James began, catching the attention of the small group, “it had been an absolute shock for most of you hear today, that I can actually cook a meal and not poison anyone.”

A round of snickers passed around the group as James rolled his eyes at your reactions. 

“We also all know that me being able to cook, is far from the most shocking thing to happen to us all. The biggest shock, was of course, the Gryffindor quidditch team losing to Slytherin when this little minx showed up and stole the show!” 

“Here here!” Sirius agreed, lifting his glass of Firewhiskey in agreement.

“Another shock was also when I asked her on a date and she agreed, yet I think that was more Y/N’s mistake than anything.” James chuckled out, now looking slightly more nervous than he did before. “If we’re talking about biggest shocks throughout our relationship, her agreeing to move in with me was another, along with my shock when I discovered what she could do with her tongue-”

“James!”

“Ow! Okay, fine, no bedroom talk!”

The punch to his arm barely phased James’ smile though as he grinned at you so wholeheartedly, you think you might melt on the spot. 

“Anyway, one thing that probably isn’t a shock is the countless times I’ve mentioned my intentions to you. Which is why...”

James unravelled his arm from your waist as he quickly caught something thrown at him by Remus, before dropping to one knee in front of you.

You were sure your heart had stopped. 

“I’m now going to ask you again, legitimately this time.”

Opening up the small white box, a gorgeous diamond and ruby ring was readily positioned, shining up at you as your eyes flicked from the ring, to James and back repeatedly. 

“Y/N, I know I’ve said this before, but please, marry me?!”

Throwing your arms around his neck, you must’ve repeated the word ‘yes’ over and over again as James proceeded to kiss you, before slipping the ring on your finger. 

In that moment, surrounded by your closest friends and the man you loved more than anything, you felt the happiest you ever had and wished for nothing more than to live in that moment forever. 

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[todoscript]

SEQUEL TO  “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

.

.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

.

.

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

.

.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

.

.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bakugou fic #bakugo fic #bnha fic

[after-witch]

Rest Your Head (Baby Mine Part 2) [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Rest Your Head (Baby Mine Part 2) [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve given Overhaul a lot to think about since your attempted escape. He owes it to you--and your daughter--to help you recover. 

Word Count: 1311

Notes: Yandere, kidnapped, abuse, Overhaul POV 

Well, you stopped screaming. That was a start.

Although he had to admit, it was likely due to your throat turning sore and raw from overuse, rather than you actually calming down. He mentally added honey and tea to the list of things to give you, though not right away. You needed to know that he was upset, and that this wasn’t something he was going to brush over with gracious leniency like your complaints about homeschooling and your defense of a (dirty, disease-ridden) sandbox in the back yard.

You disappointed him.

He loved you, he protected you, he provided you with a home and a family and structure--and you disappointed him so severely that for a few brief moments after confronting you, he’d hurt you.

It was a blip. Nothing more. A base physical instinct, borne out of his line of work, clearly--it vanished as quickly as it came, as quickly as his hands tightened around your arm. It brought him no catharsis to hurt you. But he can still feel the way his fingers tightened, feel the reverberating thrum of anger that rushed through him when you said words that hadn’t crossed your lips in years: I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

You meant it. No, he corrects himself. You think you meant it. Something had obviously been growing inside you over the years, undetected sticky layers of residue that coated the love you had readily embraced, until there was nothing left but nonsensical hatred and a desire to leave.

To leave him--and to take his child, your child, our child--away, too. A double blow. A cruelty he didn’t think you were capable of, a cruelty clearly borne not out of your real self but this false, selfish double of you that had been slipping under his covers unnoticed.

He can’t imagine even looking at those covers right now. The office was more than a necessity in his early steps for planning your recovery--he’d pulled the sofa bed out, intent to sleep on it for the time being. The idea of sleeping alone in that wide bed, your marriage bed, seemed daunting. The thought of rolling over in his sleep and not feeling you there brought prickles to his skin.

He wishes you were here to wipe the ghosts of tears from his cheeks, as he’s so often done for you. But you’re in no state, emotionally or otherwise, to take on any additional emotional burdens.

He taps on the tablet screen and zooms in to get a closer look at you. It was important to monitor you after such a traumatic, dramatic event, after all.

You’re curled up on the narrow cot he generously provided you with, arms tucked in close to your chest, face staring and vacant and tear-streaked. You need to brush your hair, but it will have to wait; the room is bare and minimal, not only for its intended usage (punishment) but for your safety as well. There’s no telling what you might do in such a hysterical mindset.

The sight is upsetting, to say the least.

You look so much like you used to, when he brought you home (your first home with him, the little suite and not this suburban place, a sprawling palace by comparison) for the first time. Bitter and sad and empty. You would curl up in bed and cry and feel sorry for yourself, until that became too tiring and you started to pick yourself up bit by bit. Reading a book. Doing some exercises. Asking for entertainment in hushed, clipped tones, because you were bored-thank-you-very-much.

And then, later on, as you recovered your senses, as you recognized that what he did was for the best--talking to him, sitting down with him at meals, and eventually meekly asking to stay in his office. And up and up, until you were finally who you were meant to be. His.

You’d had your setbacks over the years, of course. Melt downs and regressions. Clenched fists and arguments. You could be so hysterical, sometimes, so out of sorts. But it was nothing he hadn’t been able to help you recover from. Nothing he couldn’t pull you out of, his hands on your shoulders and wiping your tears, offering his better judgement when you’d lost your way. You were a fragile thing. You needed reminders. You needed correction. You needed him.

Yet… you’d tried to leave him. No, not just leave him. Sever him in half. Sever his heart and body and soul, taking what was his away like it was nothing.

This was no petty setback, no insignificant trip-on-a-rug stumble in your journey. Could even he help you recover from this?

It was more complicated, now. His mind flits to your daughter, curled up in her bed, clenching her teddy bear with a furious energy. She took hours to fall into a fitful sleep, which came as no surprise after the turbulent events you’d put her through. Were you even thinking of her when you’d put this harebrained scheme into motion? Again, his brain flashes to the insidious selfish double that your mind had created over the years. You would never put your delusions above your daughter. You would never try to tear her away from her father. You would never try to leave him. You appreciated him. You deferred to his better judgement. You loved him.

Clearly--unfortunately, so very unfortunately--he needed to remind you of all that.

He sighs, and his duties and your needs and the years of cultivation all weigh heavy on his shoulders. The key he’d retrieved earlier is pressed into his palm, leaving a sharp imprint. Would he use it? It was something he’d considered doing ever since his daughter told him about your plans, fidgeting with her shirt and whispering, tears rolling down her little cheeks as she confessed your wrongdoings but-please-don’t-be-mad-at-mama.

He’s not mad at you. No, he’s just sad.

After hearing the words leave his daughter’s lips, he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, truly he did. Wanted to see if you were just having a bit of mania, a bad day, a wild dream. But as the days waned and your daughter brought up every detail, everything you’d told her with a finger hush-hush to your lips, it became clear that it wasn’t going to subside on its own

He would have to stop you. He would have to step in. As he’s done before, when you faltered.

You’d never fallen this far, however, and he can’t deny the way his stomach churns at the loss of years.

With reluctance, he slides the key into the drawer and turns it. The lock clicks, soft from lack of use. Inside lay the needles, the syringes, all waiting in case you needed to be sedated through more intense treatment. In case you were frenzied and wild, unable to think rationally.

He hadn’t used them on you in a long time. He would need to weigh you again, to make sure the dosage was correct after all these years. He hated to do it. He really did. But if you wanted a chance at recover, if you wanted a chance to better yourself, if you wanted to reunite with the child you’d created together and take those little steps out of the room and back into your life, then he needed to make the tough decisions for you.

He knew what was best for you, in the end.

#yandere overhaul #yandere chisaki kai #overhaul x reader #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #just a lil interlude with his POV

[falcqns]

I know that I'm boring and that you'll probably block me if I request something again, but you're the only one who always writes request, so thanks in advance. ❤💕 Well, I thought of this, Henry as my husband entered the bedroom where I'm in bed with Kal sleeping barely covered by a blanket in panties only because I started to sleep like this like Henry. It can be always smutty smut like you perfectly write it. ❤

Big Brat

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: Smut! Fluff, bratty Henry (like big brat), use of sign language, slight angst at the end 

A/N: I would never block you love! I absolutely love getting requests! I’m sorry this took so long to get to, I just started my second semester of college, and I have way more classes, plus a baby and some other drama which I’ll probs rant about later lmao. I hope you enjoy!

Henry had been downstairs in his office, playing Cyberpunk for hours. Due to an injury on set, he couldn't film, so he was stuck at home. You had hung out with him for a few hours while he played, but eventually made your way upstairs when you became too tired.

“Text me when you’re done so I can help you up the stairs, kay?” You had asked. He agreed with a smile. His injury wasn’t too bad, but he still had trouble going up and down the stairs, and his pain got worse at night, so you made it your full time job to help him. 

However, you should have known he wouldn’t listen. While he was grateful for your help, when he glanced at the clock and saw that it read 2:13 am, he knew he wouldn't wake you. He wasn’t THAT injured. 

He saved the game, and turned off the computer before slowly limping his way out of his office. He glanced around the downstairs of his home, and didn't see Kal, so he knew that the big bear was upstairs with you. He took a deep breath before making the journey up the stairs. 

He walked into the room, and his breath caught in his throat. You were nestled under the covers, with Kal snoring beside you. You had pulled the majority of the blanket to your chest, and had your right arm and right leg thrown over top of it, cuddling it. His eyes made the journey from your face, down your body, and stopping when he noticed you weren't wearing any pants, only blue panties.

He let out a low groan, and quickly stripped out of his clothes, before sitting down on the bed in his boxers.

He pet Kal in between the ears, gently coaxing the Akita awake.

The bear let out a low growl before turning to look at his dad in annoyance, sending a chuckle through Henry’s chest. 

“Sorry, buddy, daddy’s gotta go to bed so you have to move,” He whispered, and watched in amusement as the dog grunted in annoyance, but complied, jumping off the bed and making his way to his own.

Kal jostled the bed as he jumped off, which woke you up. 

“Henry? Why didn't you text me?” You asked, and watched as he slowly laid his body down, gripping his injured leg and easing it up and onto the bed.

“You were asleep, I didn’t want to disturb you,” He reasoned, as his head hit the pillow.

You sighed in annoyance, propping your arm up on your elbow, your head in your hand.

“You could have hurt yourself more,” 

Henry scoffed, and ran his fingers through your hair. “But I didn't,” He whispered, and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. You smiled into the kiss, your annoyance melting away the second his skin touched yours. “God, you look beautiful.” He mumbled into the kiss, his left hand running up your legs and coming to rest on top your panty covered hip.

You giggled whilst pulling away. 

“Hen, your doctor said no strenuous activity for a least two weeks while your leg heals,” You reminded him, a knowing smile on your face. His head fell back once more, before sighing. “You don’t want to have to tell Lauren that you can't film for even longer because you had sex with your wife and hurt your leg even more, do you?” 

He gave you a side eye look. “No.” You chuckled as he covered his bare chest with his arms, crossing them. “it’s not fair,” He complained.

You rolled your eyes, and laid down. “Sometimes life isn't, my dear.” All you got was a grunt in response.

You rolled over, laughing at your husbands childish antics. You threw the comforter over your body, and tossed some to him, choosing to ignore the way he pushed it off moments later, obviously deciding to be a brat about the whole situation. 

“I love you,” You said in a singsong voice.

“No, you don't.” He grunted, a sniffle following moments later. You flipped over and almost laughed in annoyance at what you saw. He had his arms crossed over his chest still, his eyebrows were furrowed in annoyance, and tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Are you seriously crying because I won't fuck you?” 

He snapped his head to glare at you. “Yes,”

“Why?” You asked, exasperated at his attitude.

“Because, I walked in and saw my beautiful wife wearing the blue panties I bought for her while filming Mission, and she won't even let me sleep with her because I’ll ‘hurt myself’,” He said, putting the last two words in air quotes.

“First of all, you're being a brat, second of all, you will hurt yourself.”

He scoffed again before answering. “No, I won't!”    

You breathed out through your nose before continuing. “Hen, that’s exactly what you said about the stupid stunt! And guess what, you hurt yourself, which is why we’re in this stupid situation.”

He sighed, before rolling over, you following and rolling to the other side.

You felt him roll back a few minutes later and had to mentally prepare yourself for the sheer stupidity that was sure to spill from his mouth.

“You could ride me.”

You eyes flew open, and your body flipped to face him again. 

“What?”

“You heard me.” “Obviously I heard you, you dingus, but no, I am not doing that.” “Please?” He begged.

You laid down again, and closed your eyes. “I’ve said no. You haven't listened to a word I’ve said, argued about every little thing, and are refusing to stop being a brat and just go to sleep! Its almost 3 am,”

He sighed again, and you felt your patience running out. “But, baby-” He began to say before you lost it.

You sat up and threw the blankets off of you before tugging off the panties and tossing them on the floor. You pushed Henry on his back and climbed on him.

“Shut up.” You demanded, and he opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, your hand slapping to his mouth. “I said shut up. You’ve pissed me off, so I’m going to ride you until I cum, and then I’m going to bed. I don't give two shits wether or not you finish. Now. Shut. Up.”

His eyes widened, and his hands ran up your legs, before you slapped one of them.

“You don't get to talk, you don’t get to touch. You’re in trouble, this is your punishment.” He sighed in annoyance, but accepted his fate.

You fished him out of his underwear and to your surprise, he was rock hard. You pumped him a few times, and glared up at him when he let out a moan.

“I said no talking!”

He opened his mouth to speak, but decided not to, instead communicating through sign language.

‘Thats not talking.’ He signed. You mentally cursed yourself for helping him learn sign language when he saw you communicating with a child at work who was deaf.

“No sounds.” You growled. He rolled his eyes and brought his straight hand up from his neck to his chin and pointing at you.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you too,” You said, before guiding him inside you.

You didn't give him time to adjust being inside you, instead you immediately started bouncing on him, and letting out moans.

Henry had his eyes squeezed shut, and his lip was trapped in between his teeth in an attempt to silence his moans. His hands were balled up and gripping the bedsheets underneath him as well.

You chuckled at him and stopped bouncing to grind your hips against his.

“If you would have waited until tomorrow morning, I would have willingly rode you,” You growled out, the pleasure from riding him quickly growing in your lower belly. “But, no, you had to be a stubborn little shit and piss me off.”

Henry locked eyes with you, pleading you to let him touch you. 

“I said no.” You grunted, riding him even faster. You could feel your clit catching on his hip every once in a while, and it was slowly bringing you to the edge.

By the look on Henry’s face, he was close too, but you didn't care about his pleasure. He had been selfish, now it was your turn.

You bounced on him as fast as you could, your head thrown back, and your hands gripping your husbands large pecs.

“Fuck, even when I’m mad at you, you still make me feel so fucking good,” You cried out. You were teetering on the edge, so you reached your hand in between your legs and rubbed your clit quickly, which threw you over the edge.

You came on Henry, crying and rocking, the waves of pleasure that crashed down on you seemly never-ending. 

You felt him tense up just as you were coming down from your high, and immediately moved off of him. He stared at you in confusion as you grabbed your panties off the ground and slipping them on, before grabbing your phone and walking towards the door.

You turned back to look at him. “I’m still very mad at you, so I’m sleeping in the guest room. If you touch yourself, I will not sleep with you until you’ve finished filming.” You said, before walking out the door, letting it slam shut behind you.

Henry sighed in desperation, but let you go. He’d make it up to you tomorrow, but he was too tired to do anything tonight, even finish himself off.

He rolled on his side carefully, and cuddled your pillow into his chest. He drifted off to the thought of you, wishing you were sleeping next to him.

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry!holmes #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fluff #wow he was bratty in this #idk where this came from #my inner demons are out to play oof #fluff #smut #angst

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: dead dove: do not eat, heavily implied rape, gross misuse of a pact, dissociation victim blaming

Summary: not all pact masters use their pacts judiciously or in a positive way. What happens when a pact is misused in one of the worst ways possible?

A/N: so a while back I did a comic by the name of ‘Meet Me Under the Azaleas’ I’m no longer happy with the writing I put into it originally so I wanted to rewrite it using the same plot line and adding some extra scenes that weren’t in the original comic which I’ll be taking down tonight. It should work better as a fic anyway.

Chapter 1

“You are ours. We own you.”

Those words rang in his head over and over as he stumbled his way into his room, overstimulated, exhausted- a mess. He knew it was a mistake to answer the call of those witches tonight. The thoughts of what they did, how their hands ran over his body, what they had taken away. It made his stomach churn and tie itself in knots with guilt and shame. It burned just the same as the rope marks on his wrists and ankles- wounds that would heal within the hour.

“You won’t breathe a word of this to anyone- this we command of you, Avatar of Greed.”

Those women -no, they were monsters- abused the innate trust that comes with a demon who enters a pact with a human, multiple in this case. They had violated the boundaries he’d put in place the day he started dating his human. Oh God, what would she think if word ever got out? He had no way of speaking out- to scream the truth until his voice was raw.

He needed to shower, to get the stench of sex and sweat off of him. He had to get their scent off of him. As he entered the bathroom, Mammon tore off his clothes as he started the water. The lights remained off as he couldn’t bare to look at himself after what happened. Not after how he just let them use him like that.

He stepped under the boiling water and just let it run against him. The falling water did nothing to drown out the deafening voices running rampant in his mind.

“Disgusting!” They roared, “Useless! Pathetic! Weak! Whore! ….. Scum!”

He falls to the floor of his shower, hands gripping at his hair as he let out a whimper that eventually turned into quiet sobs. The steamy air making it harder to breathe. Why didn’t he fight against them harder- against their orders. No, he just laid there and took it.

He grabbed the soap and a wash rag and scrubbed his body until every bit of him was raw and even then he wouldn’t stop. It was only when he saw the blood swirling around the drain that Mammon realized what he was doing to himself- how bad the water burned the exposed skin. It felt like hellfire raining down upon him.

He felt horrible as he reached up and switched the water off. He could still hear it in his head as he reached for a towel- all the crying, screaming, begging for them to stop.

He was a pathetic, sorry excuse of a demon, he thinks as he wraps the towel around his waist and travels down the his stairs quietly. It’s early morning now. There was only a few hours left before he would have wake up for school. He contemplated just skipping the entire day. There would be know way he’d be able to function. He could always say he feels sick- its not that far from the truth. He would decide in a few hours, he thought as he crawled into bed. It didn’t take long for her to move closer to him. His naturally warmer body temperature was what drew her to him. His body involuntarily tensing as she nuzzled into his chest, arms slipping around his body. He would only tuck her head under his chin and drape and arm over her side as he let the scent of her shampoo relax him enough to fall into a light sleep.

After a short while, someone's alarm blared among the sheets- whether it his or Arella's, he couldn't be sure. Mammon patted around for the offending phone, just wanting to get five more minutes of shut eye. He eventually succeeded but not without waking his partner.

"Morning, Love," Arella sighed, her voice still laced with the grogginess of sleep.

"Mornin', Treasure," The demon yawns as he curls back up, pulling her closer to his chest. "Sleep well?"

"I did. What time you get back last night?" Arella's voice is soft as her hand slides under his shirt, rubbing gently along his side.

"5 this mornin'." He says as he tries to hide the way his body recoils from her touch, a pang of guilt strikes his heart as she notices. "Sorry... 'm not really feelin' all that great right now..."

"No, that's alright." She removes her hand from his side, choosing instead to rest it against his cheek as she readjusts herself so she's eye-level with him on the pillow. "How selfish of those witches to keep you out so late on a school night..." Its at this point she notices the puffiness and how red his eyes are. "You look like you've been crying... Is everything alright?"

He just shakes his head. Mammon wants so badly to tell her what happened to him the night before- the real reason he got home so late, but unsurprisingly, no words come out. He just closes his eyes, letting himself relax under her gentle touch. "I'm jus' really tired s'all."

"I believe it. You only got a hour and a half's worth of sleep. Would you like to just stay home all day, just the two of us?" Arella moves him so he's resting with his head on her chest.

"That's sounds.... nice," he hums quietly, so close to falling back into the clutches of sleep.

"Alright then. Go on and go back to sleep," She kisses the top of his head, carding her fingers through the soft, fluffy locks the other hand rubbing small circles in the center of his back. "I've got you."

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

This carried on for months. The witches would summon him and as long as he complied with their wishes, they would hold his secret. By the third time, he would check out- let his mind escape to anywhere but the present until it was over. It became a vicious cycle. They would call, he would go to them, and then he would crawl into his bed for maybe an hour or two before forcing himself to get up for classes that he often fell asleep in. After the tenth, once they had finished with him, he asked why they were doing this and they told him.

“We desire something to bind you to us for the rest of our lives.”

“A child.”

The demon’s eyes widened at that. Never in his life had he been so opposed to the idea of having children. In fact, just before all of this happened he had been daydreaming about what his children with Arella would look like if they were ever so fortunate to have any but a child with one of the witches? It made him sick. A half-demon born from a demon of his status had a high probability of killing its mother- one who he would then have to raise. How could he explain that to his brothers- to Arella? The very thought filled him with dread. How could he ever bring himself to care for a child conceived from a crime? A child that would always be nothing but a constant reminder of the worst nights of his life. They didn’t deserve a life like that.

And so Mammon did the only thing he could think to do: he fled. He ran back to the Devildom, back to House of Lamentation as fast a his legs would carry him. He crashed through the doors of the house. Never had he been so greatful to be the first one home. As he climbed the steps up to his room he vowed to himself never again. He wouldn’t give them what they wanted, consequences be damned.

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

It had been six months since his last encounter with the witches. There was nothing on their end- absolute radio silence. Part of Mammon wondered if they'd gotten what they wanted from him after all. Everyday was filled with the anxiety of not knowing. His nightmares had gotten worse. Most of them were based around those nights he'd spent with them, others involved everyone finding out a one-sided version of what had happened, all spun in the favor of the witches. He dreamed of Arella leaving him, heart-broken from the implication that he would stray from her and running into the arms of one of his brothers. The worst ones- the ones he would wake up from covered in a cold sweat in the dead of night- consisted of him standing in the witches' home, the sounds of screaming, the smell of blood, the piercing first cries somewhere between the call of a demon and the screams of a human baby infecting his senses. It all felt too real. It felt like a crushing weight on his chest.

Over this time, Mammon had grown distant from both his brothers and Arella, hardly spending anytime with them. He fell apart. The grades he worked so hard to pull up had taken a nose dive, he was hardly eating- choosing only to consume just barely enough to sustain himself. He no longer slept for fear of the nightmares and he instead threw himself into side jobs that would keep him out of the house well passed curfew as well as earn him plentiful amounts of grimm. He couldn't go on like this much longer.

Everyone was worried for him. None of them had ever seen the Avatar of Greed in this manner and the gradual change in his demeanor alarmed them. Despite everyone’s best attempts, Mammon hardly smiled anymore. He just simply didn't seem to enjoy all of the things he once did. They all knew something was wrong but when asked the white haired demon would shrug it off, say he was fine when he very obviously was not. Everything came to a head the night Mammon collapsed, finally falling victim to exhaustion and hunger.

It was after this that Lucifer called the family to a meeting while Arella sat with Mammon in his room as he slept fitfully.

"What do we do, Lucifer?" Asmo seemed distraught with fear. "Our brother is suffering from something and we don't even know where to start in trying to help him."

"We have to get him to talk somehow," Satan quipped, "Perhaps Arella can-"

"If this were any other situation, I would suggest it but right now, I don't think that's a very wise move. If she forces him to talk it could very well damage the bond they share." For the first time in thousands of years, Lucifer didn't know what to do. Whatever was causing this shift in personality was eating away at Mammon. "We'll try to think of a way to fix this- to find out what happened to our dear brother. So let's start at the beginning of all of this. What do we know about what he was doing before this happened?"

"Well, Levi started, "He was getting called up by those witch sisters with more and more frequently. I heard him come home super late- like early morning hours late..."

"And after that is when he practically stopped eating." Beel chimed in.

"And he was having nightmares almost nightly, afterwards." Belphie nodded. "I did my best with my powers to look into them but there were so many mental blocks that he subconsciously put up, I couldn't see or hear anything very well and what I could see didn't make a whole lot of sense. They weren't very clear, but they had something to do with the witches... and I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt associated with them."

"Then obviously something happened while he was with them," Satan said, brow furrowed. "But what that may be, we won't know until he talks."

"Asmo, I see the look on your face." Lucifer called out to the Avatar of Lust. "Is there something, you'd like share with the group?"

Everyone's eyes were locked onto Asmodeus as the demon sat with a contemplative look on his face. He was very slowly starting to piece together what had been going on.

"Not yet, but I may have a hunch." He finally said. "Mammon has a pact with these women, correct?"

Next

Masterlist 2

#dead dove do not eat #tw: implied rape/non-con #tw victim blaming #tw: dissociation #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date? #obey me angst #obey me mammon #om! mammon #mammon angst #obey me lucifer #om! lucifer #obey me leviathan #om! leviathan #obey me satan #om! satan #obey me asmodeus #om! asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #om! beelzebub #obey me belphegor #om! belphegor #obey me oc #arella

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Hi besties!! here is the long awaited part 9!! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did whilst writing it!! a big thank you goes to @emwritesfootball for proofing this part & making sure its up to scratch for all of you lovely readers! Let me know what you think babes hehehe!! Love Always, Steph xx

Part 9. | nona parte

word count; 2006. writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. next update; Friday 13/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)! tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven link to fic masterlist here

The season kicked off in the middle of August and Amelia had been more than prepared for her first match in the premier league. She spent day after day analysing the players in the first team, introducing them to the magical world of rehearsed tactics. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for the brilliant girl; she had to learn how to implement the plays coupled with the speed of the game. But so far, so good. Chelsea have been winning and her plays have been working, the boys were getting the hang of it - no matter how apprehensive they were at the start.

Jorgi played a big part in demonstrating the success of the play, performing best in his midfield role to guide the game and direct the change in play to his teammates. By the time they had played a few fixtures, they had really gotten the hang of her approach to set pieces and began to put their trust in the young girl. They were starting to see results and wanted to keep the winning streak going while they could. The fourth fixture in the new season was one that Amelia was looking forward to, personally: Chelsea v Aston Villa, Stamford Bridge, 3pm kick off.

Jack and Amelia had grown closer and closer, FaceTime‘dates’ as Jack would call them, a weekly occurrence. She had spoken to him just as much as she had spoken to Jorgi - and they were still carpooling to and from Cobham together. Her friendship with Jack was full of easy conversation and flirtatious banter, teetering over the line of friendship but being that they were kept physically apart, the friendship line remained largely intact. One person that had drifted even further away from her, despite her believing that it couldn't be possible, was Ben Chilwell.

Every time she walked into a room that he was in, if he didn't have to be there he would immediately leave. Amelia didn’t understand what the problem was. Yeah sure, they were flirty together in Mykonos but they never crossed a line together, no matter how many times the wine went straight to their heads. If anything, she should be the one running away from him. She was the one who sent him a couple of messages here and there that he just opened. She spoke to Mason, Jorgi, Billy Gilmour - who was another one of the boys she had developed a strong friendship with - and all of them insisted they didn’t understand their friend's strange behaviour.

On the evening before the Villa match, Amelia was laying on the couch in her townhouse binge watching yet another docu-series on Netflix when her doorbell rang. This was strange, most people that came past the house these days had their own set of keys (her parents, her brother, Jorgi) or they texted to let her know they were outside. Her townhouse was three stories high, so if she was upstairs on the top level vacuuming the chances of her hearing the door were slim to none. Either way, she got up off of her loveseat  and walked to the front door, peeking through the peephole - she lived in London, alone, she wasn’t opening that door until she knew exactly who was on the other side.

______________________________________________________________

“To what do I owe this visit, Benjamin?”

“Hi, Mils.”

“Wow, nickname basis already - I thought only friends called each other by their nicknames.”

“Did you think we weren’t friends?”

“Well, friends don’t treat friends the way you’ve treated me since the evening I left Mykonos.”

With a sigh, Ben looked down at his feet. I did feel a small bit of guilt for that one, but he deserved it. Continuing to find the cracks in the marble step of my door’s threshold more interesting than facing my expression, I took a step back and forced Ben to look up at me.

“Well, are you going to come inside? I’ve got the kettle on and a really good series going that I would like to get back to.”

With a charming smile, Ben took a step forward, took the door handle out of my hand and shut it behind him. Slipping out of his shoes, he followed me down the short hallway to my kitchen and pulled a seat out at the island bench.

“So, really now - why are you here? Nervous about tomorrow?” I questioned as I took two cups out of the cupboard and brewed one tea for him, one coffee for me. 3 years in Italy and coffee in the evening became the norm for me. It was my comfort drink.

“I’m here to apologise for the way I've been acting towards you for the past six weeks. I’ll be honest, I don’t know why I’ve been like this”

“Cut the crap Ben, you know exactly why you’ve been doing it. Now tell me the truth or, as far as I'm concerned, you never came here tonight and tomorrow we will be back to how we were yesterday - you running away from me and me pretending that it doesn't bother me. Even though all it does is bother me.” Not expecting that outburst to come out of me, and to be fair neither did I, Ben looked me in the eye and stayed silent, choosing his next words carefully.

“The first time I saw you, the night you told your brother off in the rec room at St. George’s Park, I thought you were the most determined woman I had ever seen in my life. Not scared of the 30 grown men who were very obviously all on the same side, literally. Then the next time I saw you, after the final match, how you comforted your brother when you were at the highest of highs and he was lower than low, I thought you had more compassion than every person in that stadium put together.”

“When you came to SGP again the next day and delivered the tactical analysis of the game you won, I thought ‘wow she is so intellectually brilliant’. And then when you turned up in Mykonos, all sunkissed and relaxed, sitting next to me and involving me in conversation with my pals but making me feel like you wanted my contribution...I remember it like it was yesterday. Amelia, you smiled at me and my heart did a somersault in my chest.”

“You shut me down outside the club that evening, and when we came back inside I caught the end of your conversation with Jorgi about Fede. Putting two and two together, I understood all that I needed to. The few days after that we carried on like normal. Then, you left and I didn't know if I would ever see you again to be fair. When you messaged me, I got too nervous to reply because I didn't know how to just be your friend. And then when I thought I had finally gotten through a day without thinking about my friend's little sister, you showed up at Cobham as my tactical analyst. I didn’t know what to do Mils, I don't know how to be just your friend when I've had nothing but unfriendly thoughts about you since the first time I saw you command that room of men you had never met in your life.”

The whistle of the kettle ringing out behind me is the only noise filling the kitchen. I’m staring at Ben; he’s staring back at me with nothing but truth behind his eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

“Benj, what you were feeling, what you are feeling is totally valid and I never want you to feel like you can’t share those feelings with me. You’re right, Mykonos changed things for me. What you were feeling was reciprocated, but Ben, I was going back to Italy. At that exact moment, I had no idea I would end up here. I thought I was enjoying a break before another high-intensity season in Italy. I wanted to kiss you so badly at the club that night, but I knew it would only hurt you. I’m used to being hurt, it's a feeling I've grown to expect. But you, you’re too pure to experience the kind of hurt that comes along with knowing you’re making a bad decision, but doing it anyway, because I wanted to be selfish with your heart.”

“Amelia, can I ask you something?” I nodded, holding my breath as I braced myself for the question poised behind his eyes. “If you were in the mood to be selfish, what would have come from that evening?”

“I can probably show you better than I can tell you,”

Walking around the island bench, I pulled the back of Ben’s chair slightly so he pivoted towards me. Standing in between his tracksuit-covered legs, I ran both hands up his arms until I got to his neck and finally beside his face. Threading my fingers through his hair, I pulled his face towards mine and our lips met. It was as soft as a butterfly kiss but as powerful as anything I had ever felt before. His hands wound around my waist and settled themselves on the small of my back before travelling down and giving my backside a gentle caress, forcing a laugh out of my lips and straight into his mouth. Pulling away slightly, so we both had a bit of breathing space to sort out our lightheadedness, Ben spoke his next words very softly.

“I need you to promise me something, Amelia.You need to promise me that you will stop thinking about my heart before your own. I am old enough to make my own decisions, and the decision to ignore you for these past few weeks has been one of the worst ones I've made in a really long time. But I did make it, and it was because I got scared, and I hurt you, and I am so sorry. The decision to come here tonight however, I feel like it more than makes up for that one very very stupid one”

“You’re such a smooth talker, Benj.”

“Say my name again, Mils, you don’t know what it does to me.”

“Down boy, your tea is going cold and I need to find out who killed Sophie in West Cork.Meet me in the lounge.”

A few hours had passed and it was nearing 10pm, well past Amelia’s bed time, but Ben was still sitting on her couch, feet on the table (despite her telling him to remove them) and arm around the back of her shoulders.

“Chilly, I don’t want you to think I'm not interested in you because I so am, I just don’t want to rush into anything. What I left behind in Italy was complicated and heavy; I'm still trying to learn how to exist without him if I'm honest. I want you to just give me the space I need to grow into my own here in the city, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it's okay, Mils. From what Jorgi has told me about Fede, I can understand why you want to take it slow now. But please, don’t call me Chilly. My friends call me Chilly, and Mills. I thought I made it clear before that I don’t want to be your friend.”

“To me, you’re Benj. Thank you. Wait - what do you mean what Jorgi has told you about Fede?”

“I may have asked a couple times about you, and for the record, he is team Bamelia.”

“Bamelia? That is the ugliest word I have ever heard. Never use it again.”

“How can it be ugly? It's mostly your name, and nothing associated with you could ever be considered anything less than beautiful.”

“Stop being so smooth Benj, you’re going to make me blush in a minute.”

“Good, can’t wait to see how you could possibly look even cuter than you do right now.”

“That’s enough Benjamin.”

“Okay I’m done now.”

Part 10. | parte dieci

#football imagine #football fic #jadon sancho #ben chilwell #mason mount #declan rice #ben white #jack grealish #tyrone mings #kyle walker #ben chilwell imagine #jack grealish imagine #mason mount imagine #football one shot #tyrone mings imagine #x reader #a family affair fic #steph writes #stephspurs #italian national team #jorginho #federico bernardeshci #jorginho imagine #bernardeschi imagine #juventus fic #juventus imagine #italy nt imagine #england nt imagine #three lions imagine #azzurri imagine

[bytheangell]

Hi!!! If you still accept requests could you do a fic with Gabriel and Christopher Lightwood? Matbe when he was little? I think that when he found out his second child was going to be a boy woukd have been impctful as what he had to bear with his own father

I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before (And I Didn’t Like the Ending) (Read on AO3)

Gabriel isn’t sure where the sudden feeling of anxiousness comes from after Cecily has their second child, a boy they name Christopher. He hadn’t been this nervous when they had Anna, and he hadn’t been particularly worried leading up to the birth… but now that Christopher is here Gabriel can tell that something is different this time.

He just can’t quite place what that something is.

It isn’t until he’s holding Christopher one night, allowing his son’s tiny hands to explore and pull at pieces of his clothing with wide-eyed curiosity, that Cecily says something that makes it all click.

“He’s going to idolize you, I can tell,” Cecily says the words with a smile, obviously meaning them as a compliment.

Instead of smiling back, Gabriel blanches. The realization comes immediately

“I don’t want him to.”

Cecily frowns. “What?”

Gabriel shakes his head back and forth emphatically. It’s suddenly very obvious why he’s felt different with Christopher, and honestly, he isn’t sure why it took him this long to piece together.

“I don’t want him to,” he repeats.

“Whyever not?” To her credit, Cecily looks confused, but not upset.

“I idolized my father,” Gabriel says, the words a mere whisper.

And there it is. The reason Christopher is different is that he’s a son: a boy, who will turn into a young man meant to take after his father. To learn from him. To grow up and follow in his footsteps.

Except everything Gabriel’s experienced of how a father raises a son is selfishness, deceit, and self-indulgence. It’s raising a child to serve and reflect your own interests - a name to carry a legacy. What if he’s just like his father? That’s nothing to idolize. That isn’t--

“You’re not Benedict, Gabriel,” Cecily says gently, her words cutting through his quickly spiraling thoughts. She walks over to place a hand on his arm, her expression kind as she glances between him and their son, her smile soft and reassuring. “You’re a good person and a wonderful father. Just look at Anna.”

“She has you to look up to,” Gabriel points out.

“And so will Christopher. But that doesn’t matter, because she still looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for her, and rightly so.”

“I don’t want to make the same mistakes he did. He raised us to be heirs, not individuals. I clung to that for so long…”

Cecily knows about the sort of man Benedict Lightwood was, before he wasn’t a man at all. Gabriel told her most of what she didn’t hear on her own because he wanted her to know exactly what she was getting into when they started seeing one another romantically - but Cecily always took it in stride. She always supported him and every difficult step he took away from his father’s legacy.

“And then you let it go when it mattered most,” she reminds him. “If you won’t believe in yourself, then believe in me. Christopher is going to turn out just fine - because of you, not in spite of you.”

Gabriel looks down at Christopher, such a tiny bundle in his arms, and nods slowly. “I won’t let you down, Christopher. I promise.”

---

It takes a while for Gabriel to find a sense of balance with raising Christopher, often trying so intensely to not be like Benedict that he isn’t quite himself, either. But he gets there eventually, stepping into his own in ways he never imagined possible before.

He’s doing well, until the moment he isn’t.

It’s a bad day. One of those days were little things seem to go wrong one after another, mostly minor inconveniences until inevitably one of them becomes the tipping point for a proper explosion of the frustration that’s been building all day.

Unfortunately, that final straw comes in the form of Christopher coming home with violently green skin less than an hour before they’re due to set off for a formal dinner in Idris. Gabriel is upset enough when he thinks it’s another one of Christopher’s experiments gone wrong, but something in him snaps when he finds out it was actually a spell gone wrong from a warlock girl Christopher had been playing with, one he met in the Shadow Market the other day.

“It’s bad enough Tatiana’s stirring up trouble again, and now you’re going to show up looking like this and positively reeking of magic! Must you spend your free time consorting with Downworlders?!”

“The spell was harmless! She wouldn’t hurt me, father,” Christopher says.

“I don’t care how harmless the spell was, it’s how it looks, don’t you see?”

But of course, Christopher doesn’t see, because he’s Christopher. He’s trusting to a fault, and too eager to see the good in people that he never stops to question whether or not they may have ulterior motivations.

“I’ll tell the people at the dinner what happened, once I explain I’m sure-”

“No!” Gabriel feels an instinctive panic at the idea of anyone finding out what happened, putting him even more on edge. “You will not tell anyone what happened. In fact, I don’t want you spending time with that warlock girl anymore.”

“But James-”

“I don’t care what James does. He isn’t my son - he isn’t a Lightwood! People expect certain things of us, Christopher, and we need to do better!” Gabriel is only vaguely aware that his voice is rising and his words are turning sharper.

“What does being a Lightwood have to do with anything?!” Christopher asks.

“It has to do with everything!” Gabriel snaps, and then realizes what he’s doing.

Christopher looks upset and a little shaken, and it’s obvious that he hadn’t expected this sort of reaction from his father. Gabriel catches a reflection of his face in the glass of a curio cabinet and sees more of his father in himself than he ever has before.

Christopher turns and stalks to his room without another word, just as Cecily comes in after hearing the commotion.

“What was all that?” She asks, brows furrowed.

“I-” Gabriel begins, but words fail him at the moment. He realizes he’s a bit shaken up as well - he’s never fought with Christopher before, not like that.

“I messed up, Cece.” Gabriel looks down the hall after his son with a weight in his chest. “I said things I shouldn’t have. I’ve just been under so much pressure lately, and he came home green for Raziel’s sake, and I…” Gabriel sighs, long and heavy.

“You took it out on him.”

It isn’t a question, so at least he doesn’t have to answer it out loud.

“I’ll talk to him later. I should go to this dinner, would you mind staying home with them?” Gabriel knows better than to think Anna will come with him after he’s upset Christopher - she’s fiercely protective of him in all the best ways.

“Of course. Go put in your appearance, I’ll handle things here.”

“Tell him I said I’m sorry,” Gabriel adds, turning to leave.

Cecily shakes her head. “You tell him yourself when you get back.”

He will. He absolutely will.

---

Once he’s in Idris, Gabriel can’t shake his foul mood. It doesn’t take long for Gideon to call him out on it.

“I shouted at Christopher. I told him,” Gabriel huffs. “That we have to hold ourselves to a different standard because we’re Lightwoods.”

“You’re not wrong. You and I both know we’re going to be undoing Father’s damage for the rest of our lives.”

“Are you ever afraid you’re too much like him?” “ Gabriel asks, unable to help himself.

Gideon shrugs. “He wasn’t all bad, you know. He did love us, for what that’s worth in the end. He never wanted us to want for anything, and he always pushed us to be the best versions of ourselves. Those wouldn’t be the worst traits to emulate.”

It’s a fair point. Gabriel is so focused on not turning into the monster his father became that he overlooked the parts of their childhood that were good.

“It’s just, sometimes I see him in myself when I lose my temper and… honestly, it frightens me. It’s like I blink and suddenly all the progress I’ve made all these years is just gone.”

“If all that progress were gone, you wouldn’t be having this conversation with me now,” Gideon points out. “One mistake doesn’t undo years of good. Not if you fix it instead of letting it consume you.”

Some of the tension Gabriel’s felt since he yelled at Christopher eases ever-so-slightly, and he manages a small smile.

“Thanks. I think I needed to hear that.”

“I can’t take all the credit - it’s something Sophie told me once. Guess it stuck,” Gideon admits. “Now get out of here and go home. I’ll cover with the others.”

---

Gabriel leaves Idris early to make sure he’s home before Christopher falls asleep. He goes straight for his son’s room, surprised by the slight nervousness he feels. But that’s good, he reminds himself. It means he cares, and not just about himself, but about what really matters.

“Christopher, are you awake? May I come in?”

There’s a short pause, and Gabriel wonders if he’s too late and will have to wait until morning. Then he hears soft shuffling noises before the door swings open.

“I’m sorry-” Christopher starts immediately, obviously expecting a lecture, but Gabriel holds up a hand to stop him.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not always right, Christopher. And I need you to understand that. I don’t want you to grow up blindly following in my footsteps, okay? You’re allowed to question me. And you’re allowed to tell me if you think I’m wrong - because I might be. I just might not always see it.”

“You were wrong to be mad that I’m spending time with Downworlders,” Christopher says slowly, as if testing whether or not he’s supposed to actually question his father or if that bit was just a trap to see if he would.

“I was,” Gabriel agrees. “The unsupervised magic could be dangerous and that’s something we’ll have to talk about, but not tonight. Tonight I just need you to know that I don’t want you to be different, or better, or anything other than your perfectly curious, kind self. I love you, Christopher.”

“I love you too.”

This isn’t the first mistake Gabriel’s made as a parent, and he’s certain it won’t be the last. He’s trying to be better than his father before him. Sometimes he fails, sometimes he succeeds, but every time he learns from his mistakes and picks himself up to try again… and he’s finally starting to realize with the love, forgiveness, and encouragement of his family, that he doesn’t have to be perfect so long as he’s trying to be better.

#gabrily #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #tsc #christopher lightwood #gideon lightwood #it's been a hot second since I read these so I hope I did the characters justice! #it was fun to imagine these little in-between times we didn't get in canon #also I'll have Lightwood feels forever no matter the Lightwood and this is no different #this turned out a little more gabriel focused but I hope you enjoy it!! #thank you so much for the prompt! #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

[nataliaphantomhivesblog]

In the end of it all, Monaca Towa was still a child.

To start this off, this isn't my usual Black Butler posts but ive been meaning to talk about Danganronpa for a hot minute, so please bear with me! Second, this is solely my opinion and before anyone wants to attack me please read thoroughly first. Thank you:)

(Spoiler warning for Danganronpa: Ultra Despair Girls and Danganronpa 3)

Also, before we dive in I'm going to list some trigger warnings:

Physcological abuse

Physical abuse

Manipulation

P*dophillia

Suicide attempt

Violence (?)

Childhood trauma

Please take care and read at your own risk<3

Hello there Danganronpa fandom! Today I will be talking about Monaca Towa (as stated in the title) and how people often minimize her trauma and sometimes forget the fact that shes still a child who got heavily manipulated by Junko too.

Monaca is seemingly very amiable and caring, because of her charming personality, all of the Warriors of Hope love her and try their best to keep her happy and go along with what she wants. However, it's slowly revealed that she is actually manipulative and cunning behind her friendly facade.

Monoca is a character that is cruel, manipulative, and extremly unhinged. Many of her actions cannot be excused or justified, but you can understand where she's coming from.

Monaca's Backstory:

She was born an unwanted child by both her father and her mother. Monaca's mother was supposed to take care of her but instead abandoned the child soon after her birth. Because of all her actions, Monaca saw her mother as a completely selfish and pathetic person. Monaca's father thought of giving her to an orphanage but instead took her into his family.

However, Monaca was always unwanted and everyone else felt uncomfortable around her. Every time Monaca smiled or joked, the others looked at her coldly, as if she didn't deserve to laugh. Every time she spoke, the others turned silent. His older-half brother thought of her as an alien, not part of the family.

She was also physically abused to the point that she pretended to be seriously wounded for them to stop as a result.

Monaca also attended Hope's Peak Elementary School and was part of the "trouble-makers class" along with Nagisa, Masaru, Jataro, and Kotoko.

Along with her fellow abused classmates, she planned a group suicide; however, Monaca never had any plans to commit suicide in the first place and was planning to let the others die as a prank.

The group suicide was stopped by Junko, who took the kids in and manipulated them by treating them with kindness and love.

Monaca then helped Junko mass produce Monokumas for the Tragedy by using her position as a representative of the Towa Group.

She lied to her father and the other adults in order to produce the Monokumas, telling them that she wanted to create futuristic robots that could be domestic helpers and emergency aid workers.

Due to her separation from the family and her genius, her family decided to give her leg room to do what she wanted as long as she brought in profits to the company, and didn't delve too deeply into her plans.

Things to keep in mind about Monoca's backstory:

She was emotionally and physically abused from a very young age.

She started to pretend to be paraplegic because she was finally treated with some kindness and she could have more control over people.

She convinced Nagisa, Jataro, Kotoko and Masaru to commit suicide.

Out of all the Warriros of Hope, Junko took the most intrest in Monoca due to her position, meaning that she was the one who got used and manipulated the most.

How Monoca's mindset works:

The moment she got physically abused to the point that she had to fake her injuries to make her family feel bad was the moment she learned that through sympathy from others comes power. Due to her families neglection and abuse, she started to quickly pick up on things in which benefited her yet hurt others.

She started to use manipulative tactics on her family to gain control over them. She then started implicating these tactics with the Warriors of Hope.

When Junko got into the picture, everything changed for the worst. Junko was the only person in Monaca's life who showed her affection. Even though deep down Monaca knew Junko only cared for her as a means to use her robotics genius for the Tragedy, Monaca didn't care, and happily helped out Junko with her plans if it meant being loved and appreciated in return. At the heart of it, despite all her horrific acts, that's a very child-like thing to do, right? So when Junko dies, Monaca's entire reason for living basically disappears.

AI Junko via Kurokuma may have planted the idea of a successor in her head, but in Monaca's mind it's a way to get her big sis back, and very specifically chooses to mold Komaru into becoming Junko's successor. That's for a big reason, Monaca doesn't want to become Junko, I'd say she actually just wanted her big sister back who would love and appreciate her again, and hence tried to make someone else take on that role initially. Once again, that's the mindset of a child.

Monaca's relationship with the Warriors of Hope:

The Warriors of Hope are a group of children who are extremely resentful and hateful of adults, regardless of whether or not they were involved in their rough paths. 

We all know that the Warriros of Hope are extememly tramutized kids. Masaru had alcoholic parents who physically abused him, Jataro was physcologically abused to the point he bealived he was so ugly that if anyone saw his "repulsive" face they would die, Kotoko was r*ped multiple times by disgusting p*dophilic men (not to mention, Monaca's brother was attracted to her), and last but not least we have Nagisa who had pressuring parents who wanted to raise him as the child prodigy and expirimented on him constantly.

Monaca used the Warriros of Hope's trauma against them, manipulating them to the point were they had to do her bidding completly.

As much as I hate to say it, Monaca truly saw them as pawns. Although there are some instances where she openly declares her care for the Warriors of Hope, it's likely she does that as a form of emotional manipulation.

If anything, she probably did see them as equal in the beginning but then when she started to gain control over her own family, she started to do the same with the Warriors of Hope as a way to protect herself from getting hurt, then again this is my baseless assumption.

Her dynamic with Nagito:

Monaca was amused by Nagito's strange behavior and contradicting beliefs and appeared to be somewhat annoyed with him at the times. However, the two appeared to at least seemingly respect each other in some way, as they treated each other somewhat formally as allies.

Her dynamic with Nagito is one of the most intresting ones. Obviously I think that her being rasied by Nagito was potentially a dangerous thing, considering Nagito's goal was for Monaca to become Enoshima's successor. Monaca seemed to agree with this goal, but Nagito's constant rambling about hope and despair made Monaca bored and feel embarrassed about the whole thing.

She claims he made her an adult in a way, as she grew up in the mental sense and became more cynical and apathetic, not really caring about anything.

In the end, Monaca found Nagito creepy and annoying, but she also appeared to get closer to him during their time together, while originally calling him just "Mister Servant" in UDG, she later refers to him as "Big Bro" in Danganronpa 3. I do think their dynamic was sort of soft and I would've loved to have seen more of it. Honestly the concept of Nagito being a soft brother to Monaca warms my heart, and the wasted potential will forever anger me.

(If any Danganronpa fanfic writer or any writer in general is reading this post: if u could be so kind and do a PLATONIC Nagito and Monaca prompt and tag me in it, I would love you forever!!)

My opinion on Monaca:

I think that Monaca was a very well-written character who deserved more than what she got in the end of Danganronpa 3. She was abused, mistreated and belittled by her family. If anything, I see her as a completely misguided little girl. If she actually had a positive authoritative influence in her life, she wouldn't have turned astray.

A lot of people disregard Monaca's trauma and forget that at the end of the day, Monaca was a child who the moment she was born, the people who were supposed to love her were unwelcoming.

Don't get me wrong though, there is no way in hell I will ever justify or condone the things Monaca has done. If anything, I just think that she alongside the rest of the Warriors of Hope should've been properly taken care of.

Also, if you dislike/hate Monaca thats 100% valid! She did a lot of inexcusable things and its alright to hate on her. I personally love her character but I know she is not everyones cup of tea.

If you read all the way, I'm actually surprised! Thank you and I hope you enjoyed<333

#Danganronpa #danganronpa text post #Warriors of hope #kotoko utsugi #masaru daimon #jataro kemuri #nagisa shingetsu #Monoca Towa #Monokuma #Junko enoshima #Nagito komaeda #Ultra despair girls #udg #udg nagito #Danganronpa 3 #Komaru Naegi #Toko fukawa #Tokomaru #Hope and despair #Monaca Towa #Haji Towa

[dumdumsun]

Of Starlight

A/N: Alright, this entire story has officially been written ❤️

Warnings: none that I’m aware of

Word Count: 3067

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Chapter 5: Extra Ordinary

Five years ago, Vanya Hargreeves began writing her autobiography, “Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven”, less than two weeks before her sister’s novel, “One-Sided”, was announced in the papers. Those around who enjoyed her writing were buzzing with excitement, for it was the second book of her trilogy. (Y/N) was thrilled, herself, to be publishing her novel within the next month. Finally sharing her work with the world would have taken a tremendous weight off her shoulders, leaving her with only the weight on her bladder. While working herself nearly to death with her writing, she was with child for the second time, which added to her stress. Thankfully, she had a very supportive husband at the time to assist in anything she requested. It was in those times in which (Y/N) was grateful she decided to make something of herself rather than letting her past as Number Eight define her.

Once “One-Sided” was published, (Y/N) sent two copies out; one to Allison, one to Vanya. She figured her brothers wouldn’t want to read her romantic fantasy as much as her sisters, so she didn’t bother asking. Allison seemed ecstatic for the new addition, but she wasn’t too sure about Vanya, supposing it wouldn’t hurt to send it. If she didn’t want to read it, that was her decision. What she didn’t expect, however, was Vanya’s novel sent to her. After Jada was born, (Y/N) had taken time to read her sister’s autobiography. While Anthony was at work during the day, she’d multitask by reading and taking care of her newborn. She would quietly gasp at certain parts of the book before checking to make sure she hadn’t woken her daughter up. (Y/N) couldn’t believe some of the things her sister dared to put in that book. Some things she wrote were blatantly about (Y/N)’s own insecurities that she had trusted Vanya with knowing. Insecurities about her powers, her capability of being a suitable member of the Umbrella Academy. Vanya had compared it to her own doubts, stating that (Y/N) had no right to complain to her, of all people. Looking back now, (Y/N) could admit that it was a bit selfish to do that to her sister. Regardless, those had been personal and it was unloyal of Vanya to share that with anyone willing to read. Despite this, (Y/N) saw to promote “Extra Ordinary” along with her own work. Someone had to be the bigger person in this situation.

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Nostalgia wasn’t exactly what (Y/N) was overcome with when awaking in her childhood bed. In fact, she’d much rather have opened her eyes to the empty side of her king-sized mattress at home instead. She debated closing her eyes and pretending she had never drifted into consciousness, but sat up when remembering everything Five had told her the day before. If she remembered correctly, there were six remaining days leading up to the end of the world. She had promised Five to assist in preventing the apocalypse, and her drowsiness was not going to hold her back. So, she dragged herself out of bed and began looking for Five. She figured the first place to begin was his bedroom, so she stopped in front of his door and knocked. Hearing rustling on the other side, she asked, “Five, are you decent?”

“Decent enough. You can come in,” He called out, the door opening and (Y/N) stepping inside. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he fixed his white button up. “I take it you had a difficult time sleeping?”

“What makes you say that?” Her hand slid down her face, sarcasm in her tone. She didn’t need a mirror to know she had bags under her eyes. Five chuckled and moved to his vest and jacket, finishing with dressing himself. As he zipped his duffle bag closed, he glanced out the window.

“You tagging along today?”

“I plan to. I… suppose I have nothing to do.”

“Nothing, huh?” Suspicion hid amongst his words as he picked up his bag. “What is it you decided to do with your life, (Y/N)?” The question was simple, genuine, but the weight of it was suffocating. She really couldn’t go back to her normal, beautiful life after all.

“I… found my mother,” She slowly started out, carefully watching as Five curiously glanced up at her under his dark brows. “I became an author… and a mother.”

Suddenly, Five couldn’t breathe. He had anticipated this conversation, prepared himself for everything (Y/N) had accomplished while he was gone. But nothing could have prepared him for the stab in the heart at the mention of her having children. Children with someone who wasn’t him. It was stupidly selfish, he knew, to expect her to wait for him, to do anything else with her life except for the things he longed to do with her. Past the pain, however, he was happy for her. Something in him knew that (Y/N) would one day make a wonderful mother. She was patient, selfless, caring, and oh, how he wished he could’ve been the one. He didn’t even want to ask about the individual she had trusted enough to raise children with her.

His hesitancy to respond worried (Y/N) and suddenly she wanted to apologize. But for what? Her success, her marriage, her children? She had every right to those and she shouldn’t have to apologize. Her concern washed away when Five raised his brows in acknowledgement, opening the window. “Really? A mother? That’s great, Starlight…” God, that nickname… She thought. Why does everything feel so complicated now? Her feet moved her to follow him out of the window and down the fire escape. She thought it was best to not continue the conversation for now.

“Dammit, where’s Dad’s stuff?” The two heard an irritated groan on their way down. (Y/N) craned her neck to see Klaus digging through the dumpster. “Shut up! I’m trying to find whatever… priceless crap was in that priceless box so that Pogo will get off my ass!”

“I’d ask what you’re up to, Klaus, but then it occurred to me…,” Five turned to his brother. “I don’t care.” His useless comment earned an eye roll from (Y/N). Klaus glanced up at the two with a small laugh.

“Hey! You know there are easier ways out of the house, buddy? And bringing little (Y/N) along, too? Whatever could you two be up to?”

“This way of leaving involved the least amount of talking,” Five hopped off the ladder, helping (Y/N) down afterwards. “Or so I thought.”

“Klaus,” The eighth Hargreeves made her way closer to the dumpster. “Is Ben there?”

“Yes, dear, he says hi.” His hand waved in Ben’s supposed direction, (Y/N) softly smiling at her ghost brother. “So, hey, you two need any more company today? I could, uh… clear my schedule.” His eyes shifted to Five as he took a drink from his flask.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.” The boy falsely smiled.

“Oh, this? No, no. I can do this whenever. I’m just- I just misplaced something. That’s all.” He then fell into the trash as (Y/N) joined her traveling companion at his side. After a few seconds, Klaus reappeared with a bagel. “Oh! Found it! Thank god!” (Y/N) nearly gagged as he began to chew on it, muffling a ‘delicious’ in forced content.

“I’m done funding your drug habit.” Five spit out before walking away. She followed him and waved at Klaus, barely listening to him yelling after them as they climbed into a plumbing van.

“Why are we stealing a van?”

“Shush.”

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Once again, the two teenagers found themselves in front of Meritech Prosthetics. (Y/N) watched as Lance entered the building before sighing. “We’re really gonna sit here and spy on the man?”

“You got a better idea?” Five only kept his stare on him.

“I guess not… What’s the bag for, then?”

Five immediately turned his attention to the duffle bag he brought with them. “Oh, shit,” He muttered before unzipping it. “Hey,” He softly greeted before handing a bottle of alcohol to (Y/N). She blinked once, twice, thrice when he brought out the top half of a bald mannequin and set it between them. “Sorry you were in there for so long, Delores.”

“Wait,” (Y/N) choked. “That’s Delores?! The one you were with for over thirty years?!”

“Well, obviously,” Five frowned before turning back to ‘Delores’. “This is (Y/N), Delores. You know… the one I told you about.”

“You… talk about me to the mannequin? Should I be flattered or weirded out?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Five sighed and turned away. (Y/N) suddenly felt silly for being jealous last night. “No, I’m not drunk.”

“What?” (Y/N) frowned at the boy, who shook his head.

“Talking to Delores. She thinks I’m- Yes, it’s about the eye thing. This is the place it was made. Or… will be made,” His eyes moved up to his human friend. “We just have to wait…”

He’s actually talking to the mannequin, (Y/N) thought as she turned forward, eyes wide. So, that was what the apocalypse had done to him. She felt bad for him now. Initially, her heart warmed at the thought of Five finding someone to love, but knowing that his mind had gone somewhere far away enough for him to turn to a mannequin for comfort…

“So, (Y/N),” He started, his gaze once again trained on the building before them. “Your children… tell me about them.” Truth be told, Five wanted to know how much they had gotten from their mother. Were they just as humorous? Just as passionate? As wonderful? (Y/N) let out a heartfelt laugh as she closed her eyes.

“Where do I even begin? Michael, he’s… so intelligent. He has the highest reading level in his class and they’re thinking of letting him skip the first grade. He’s such a big help at home with his little sister… I swear, he’s a little man. He’s always trying to test my knowledge. Tries to get me to solve his ‘really hard’ math homework problems…,” She chuckled, Five looking at her with an unreadable expression. “And Jada… she’s such a character. No matter how many times I teach her the days of the week, she always gets them wrong… She wakes me up every morning, trying to guess. I say ‘Jada, if yesterday was Wednesday, what is today?’ and she just starts listing off every wrong answer… She’s a performer, too. I enrolled her into dance classes. Oh, it’s her favorite thing to do… And I’ll admit, she’s good at it. Don’t know where she got that from. Definitely not from me or her dad...”

Five tilted his head thoughtfully. “They sound… just like you. They think they know everything,” He joked with a small smile, (Y/N) playfully glaring at him. “Really, though… They sound like great kids… I’d like to meet them one day.”

“Yeah,” She smiled down at her lap. “I’d love for them to meet you… But I need to be an actual adult before I can face them again. Until then… It’s just checking up every once and awhile…”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” Five frowned as he sat forward. “I- I’m going to figure this out. I promise.”

“I know you will,” She breathed and closed her eyes, her world slowly crashing down on her yet again. “Sorry, I need some air.” And with that, Five was in the car alone. Well, save for Delores. Outside, (Y/N) didn’t have much time to really be with her own thoughts before she heard Luther and Klaus’s voices nearing her. Turning to her right, she spotted the two walking side-by-side towards the van. Upon seeing her, Luther raised a hand.

“(Y/N), you need to get back to the Academy. We found something… and Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death.” He gruffly explained, the young girl straightening to attention.

“Wait, what-”

“I can explain at the house, but we need both you and Five there for the family meeting. Is he in there?” He pointed to the vehicle their brother sat in.

“Yeah, but-”

“Great. Be right back.” Luther’s massive body brushed past her to get to Five, Klaus following behind to get in the back. Not waiting a second longer, she followed her junkie brother inside. When she entered the van again, Luther was trying his hardest to fit his body into the passenger seat as Klaus grabbed Delores, smirking at (Y/N) as he began to dance with the mannequin. She only watched him in disinterest. Once Luther was finally in, he turned to Five. “You okay?”

“You shouldn’t be… How did you find me?” Five’s question was answered when Luther turned to Klaus. With everyone’s attention on him, he looked up from Delores and dropped his smile.

“Hey, a little privacy, guys. We’re really hitting it off back here.” He began to caress Delores’s cheek before screaming when Five threw an object at him, Klaus using the mannequin to block. (Y/N) shook her head and moved closer to Five and Luther, the former fuming.

“Get out! You can’t be here! I’m in the middle of something.”

“Oh, but (Y/N) can be here?”

“Yes! We’re in the middle of something!” Five turned forward as Klaus joined (Y/N) at her side, poking her cheek gently.

“Any luck with your one-eyed man?” He asked her, receiving a head shake. Five sighed and turned to Luther.

“What do you want, Luther?”

Turning his attention away from the conversation between the two, Luther answered Five, “Um… So, Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death. So I need you to come back to the Academy, alright? It’s important.” His request was met with silence for a split second before the time traveller shook his head.

“‘It’s important’. You have no concept of what’s important-”

“Hey!” Klaus interrupted, holding his sister at his side. “Did I ever tell you guys about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding?”

And that was when (Y/N) tuned out the entire conversation between her family. She left Klaus’s side and pressed her back against the back of Luther’s seat, closing her eyes. She knew Five wasn’t going with Luther and Klaus to the house, and she didn’t need to listen to the bickering that would’ve led to that outcome. Her attention was eventually brought to Klaus swinging the back door open, huffing as he got out. She watched him slam the door closed and make his way towards the store across the street. Not trusting him in the slightest, she sent a clone after Klaus, telling it to “watch over him”. At this point, she was waiting for Luther to leave so her growing headache would subside, but it seemed the man wanted to talk some more.

“What the hell are you up to, Five?”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. Last I checked, I’m still the leader of this family.”

“Well, last I checked, I’m twenty-eight years older than you.” Five tightly smiled before (Y/N) snorted with laughter. The boy rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at her before Luther pulled his attention away.

“You know what your problem is?”

“Really hoping you’ll tell me.”

“You think you’re better than us,” Luther’s words wiped that sarcastic smile right off Five’s face. “You always have. Even when we were kids. But the truth is, you’re just as messed up as the rest of us. We’re all you have… and you know it.” Luther stared at his brother, as the boy slowly inhaled.

“I don’t think that I’m better than you, Number One. I know I am,” He hissed, Luther only chuckling. “I’ve done unimaginable things, things you couldn’t even comprehend.”

“Right...”

“Just to get back here and save you all…” Five stared out the window. (Y/N) sighed and grabbed Delores.

“Luther, out.” She ordered, her “big” brother turning to her with an offended look. “Five’s clearly not going with us. No use arguing with him either. So, just go and I’ll catch up-” She was cut off by the sound of a voice whooping in excitement. The three looked across the street to see Klaus running out of the store, arms full of stolen snacks, the clone following close behind.

“Hey, bitches!” He shouted as a cop chased after them, blowing his whistle. The clone turned to the officer and pushed him away with great force as Klaus was nearly hit by a car. Five’s head followed Klaus’s movement.

“I’m starting to wonder if that was the wisest decision…”

After Luther was sent out of the van, (Y/N) took over the passenger seat once again and set Delores down between them, Five quietly thanking her. “So… I’m going with the guys.”

“What? Why are you wasting your time, I thought you wanted to help me?”

“I do, and I will… But I don’t trust Luther to make decisions right now… I mean, if Mom really did have something to do with Dad’s death… Who knows what he’ll do? The least I can do is try to talk him out of it. I promise, when I’m done, I’ll come and find you.” She softly smiled, gently patting his hand. Five shook his head at her.

“You don’t have to promise me anything… I’m the one who owes you.”

“All you owe me is this,” She gently squeezed his hand. “You being here… That’s what I’ve wanted for so long. Now I have it. So, your debt is paid.” She chuckled. Five rested the back of his head against the seat as his eyes searched her face, trying to find anything that should worry him about her. But all he found was her warm smile and eyes that shone with affection. It suddenly felt inappropriate to have Delores around right now.

“Well, then, you should get going… You’ve gotta catch up with those idiots.”

“Alright. Don’t be out here forever, okay?” (Y/N) leaned in and pecked his cheek before getting out of the car and rushing after her brothers. As he watched her speed away, he tried to regulate his breathing, heartbeat increasing.

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Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua fanfic #tua x reader #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #tua five #number five #number five x reader #of starlight #umbrella academy #tua

[chokemeanakin]

Give Me Love

Chapter Nine

Wc: 2.2k

MASTERLIST

It took weeks before you got a conclusive word on how things were going on Kamino. You spent every day throwing yourself into work, staving off the thoughts of what might be happening to people fighting that battle-- to Anakin fighting that battle.

It was selfish to miss him, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted him back here with you, catching your eyes from across the room, smiling at you in the mess hall, nodding at you in passing. You wanted to go to Dex’s with him, to fly in his starfighter, to sleep next to him. You wanted that swirling tempest of an angel back under your fingertips, taming it as you studied everything that should have made him human.

Even your weekly breakfast-dinner’s at Dex’s with Sabe and Ahsoka had to hold off as the tense atmosphere of the Temple seemed to leach out onto the streets of Coruscant, the citizens holding their breath as they waited for an attack. Ahsoka was busy with Jedi duties, and Sabe worked tirelessly to sign a bill that would send more troops to back them up on Kamino.

You watched, day after day, as medics were deployed out. You were one of the only ones left in the Temple, and it made you angry how they held you back. Were you not of the best medics here? No one else had training like you, no one else had experience like you. How could you just sit back and watch as everyone left for Kamino except you?

The stress of it all became too much. One night, you decided you couldn’t toss and turn in bed anymore, plagued with the constant “what-if’s” racing through your mind. You dragged yourself out of bed, threw on a dress, and headed toward The Core.

It was a nightclub, but a little less rowdy than the ones found in the deeper ends of the city. A jazz band played on stage, aliens of all shapes and sizes milling about. They carried drinks and ate food and played cards. You sat at the bar, nursing a small drink as you took it all in. People-watching always helped quiet your mind.

“You’re far too young to look so troubled,” a gruff voice spoke next to you.

Without sparing it a glance, you shrugged. You kind of expected someone to come on to you, as it was almost guaranteed if you were a young woman alone at a bar on a Friday night. You were prepared for it, but you still didn’t want to deal with it.

“Oh come on,” the voice teased. “You don’t want to tell me what’s wrong?”

He didn’t sound like he was coming onto you. In fact, his inquisition seemed nice enough. You decided to spare him, glancing over to see a blue man with bulbous antennae coming out of his head. His eyes were black through and through, and a patchy silver beard hugged the lower half of his face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you replied, pleasant. He took it as an invitation to occupy the stool next to you.

“You’re frowning like your husband died in war.”

You jolted as if you’d been struck. Furrowing your brows at him, your anger took control. “That’s a very inconsiderate thing to say at a time like this.”

“My apologies,” blue lips pulled into an impish smile. “I see I’ve struck a chord. Does this mean you have a husband off fighting?”

“No,” you swallowed your drink hard, burning as it slid down your throat.

“No husband? Then it looks like I could have you all to myself.”

You leaned away from his touch, the hand reaching for your cheek pausing in midair. He let it drop, laughing. “What? Too scared to have some fun?”

“With you, anyone would be scared.”

His silence caused your heart to stutter in fear for a moment, wandering if you’d now struck a chord. Your hand inched toward the knife you kept strapped to your ankle in case you had to use it.

“You fucking virgin,” he spit, and the words punched you straight in the gut. “No one would want to fuck you anyway.”

You’d been on the receiving end of angry, rejected male rants many times before. In each instance, they’d never bothered you. You’d been called a slut, whore, a dirty bitch, every name under the sun really. But never that. You fucking virgin. That one was new.

And personal.

Out of all of them, this one sent shockwaves through your system as if you’d been slapped.

What’s wrong with being a virgin? You wanted to call after him. Why is that a bad thing?

Unable to get your rolling emotions under control, you decided it might just be best to head home. It was getting awfully late, and you didn’t want to be on the streets when the bars closed.

The blue man’s slurred insult pushed at your mind the entire way back to your apartment. Admittedly, tears stung at your eyes a few times, but you managed to stave them off until you got to your room. You walked into the bathroom and caught your reflection in the mirror, your smoky makeup and messy hair didn’t give off any pure or innocent vibes. How had that man been able to tell?

If he could, does that mean Anakin could as well?

Stressed tears finally broke through the dam you had built up. You turned away from the mirror, unable to look at yourself any longer. Tragic, your mind hissed. People are dying in war, and you’re crying over being a virgin.

You were quick to stop the tears, opting to take a shower and drown in self pity as you watched the water run down the drain. How had life gotten so dull? Before Anakin, you’d been able to find joy in the mundane tasks of your everyday routine. But now, with Anakin off fighting, and you not knowing if he was alright or not… everything was grey.

It’s not like you’d never seen him off to battle before. Ever since you began working in the temple last year, Anakin had been deployed countless times. He was rarely in the Temple more than he was off on some other planet, pushing back at Separatist forces and making a name for himself on the Holonet as the Hero with No Fear. But this time was different. This time, you knew the touch of those hands and the twinkle of that smile. How his curls tickled your neck, and heart beat beneath your palm. Every second he was out there, his life was in danger of being ripped away from him. Away from you.

Anakin will come back, Ahsoka had assured you. He always does.

Those were the only words you would allow to enter your mind as you drifted off into a restless sleep. You had barely woken up when you were being shoved onto a ship, zipping up your field suit and buckling yourself into a transport ship to head to Kamino.

You weren’t nervous, not one bit. This was exactly what you wanted. Your mind zeroed in on the tasks that you would be met with once you touched down--

“The fighting on Kamino is over, but the Republic has faced heavy losses. We need every medic we can spare out there, which is why you’re heading there now,” your boss, Rico, shoved a field suit into your hands and a medcase on top of it. “Don’t expect it to be pretty.”

“It never is.”

Strangely, you felt calmer now than you had in weeks. With every second this transport ship was in the sky, you grew closer and closer to Anakin. You itched to see him, but you also itched to work. To rush around the aftermath of battle and hush wounded men’s cries, to free them of their pain, and ensure that they would live another day.

It took hours to get to Kamino, and when you arrived, it was already beginning to turn into dusk. Smoke filled the sky, billowing up from buildings all over Topica City, blood washing off the platforms and into the roiling sea below.

You hit the ground running, moving from clone to clone as you assessed their wounds, patching up the ones you could, helping the ones that could walk to the medical transport, and marking too many for bodybags. Bit by bit, the awful groan that seemed to come from the core of the city itself quieted, until the last clone was being loaded into a medical transport. You wiped your hands on your field suit, caked with blood as if you had been in battle yourself.

With the tasks at hand done, your mind was left to wander. Technically, you were supposed to get on the same ship you had arrived on to go back. But… there was someone you wanted to find first.

“Y/n,” a male spoke behind you, the first non-clone you’d heard in hours. Your heart jumped into your throat, until you turned around and saw that it wasn’t who you hoped.

“General Kenobi,” your eyes immediately landed on the way he clutched at his shoulder. “You’re hurt-- let me help.”

“Perceptive, as always,” Kenobi grimaced through a smile as you urged him to sit on an overturned crate. He shook his head, and then looked toward a ship behind him. “The Council needs us back right away— if you don’t mind hitching a ride with us.”

Of course you didn’t. You followed him to the Republic cruiser, stepping on to find clones wearing yellow and blue armor, running around to get the ship started.

“At ease, men,” Kenobi calmed them as he limped past. “This battle was a difficult one-- take some time to rest.”

Your eyes softened at his words. You could tell by the way every clone you saw had blood spattered over the white of their armor, how the ones with their helmets off were pale and stricken, how they all seemed to work in silent shock. They had been through hell.

You were glad they had Kenobi to look out for them. He was one of the best Jedi you knew, as well as a good man. He had vouched for you ever since arriving on Coruscant after running away from Noxella. Your home planet had cancelled your certifications, as you had left illegitimately, and the Temple wasn’t going to take you in to work at the medbay like you hoped. Kenobi stood up for you-- you were young, and already so gifted. Why should they waste such talent?

It was mere coincidence that he also happened to be the Master and best friend of the man who occupied a special place in your heart. Kenobi, as a result, had always earned your utmost respect.

“How did this happen?” you asked as he made it to the piloting station. He sat in a chair at the back of the room, requesting gently for the clones to find their own rest, before taking off his shirt. His shoulder was purple and crooked, very obviously wrenched from its natural position.

“Unfortunately, being thrown off the top of the building and catching yourself on a loose rafter isn’t the best for your shoulder joint.”

“I couldn’t have guessed,” you played along, keeping things light hearted to calm his nerves. There was no need-- Kenobi was always calm. You’re not sure how he did it, but his presence was soothing you right now. You’re not sure he even meant to, especially because he must be in excruciating pain.

You examined his shoulder, noting the extent to which it hunched out of place. Sometimes it was difficult to determine if it was a subluxation or complete dislocation, but you were pretty certain Kenobi’s was the latter.

“I’m going to have to set this now,” you gave him the bad news. “But afterwards, the pain should ease up.”

“Do your worst.”

He looked absolutely exhausted, and weary, and beaten down. It tore your heart apart, seeing one of the Republic’s bravest heroes so worn out. He didn’t even look like he minded the pain, rather his eyes were filled with a deep sorrow that made you want to take all of the hurt away.

You could fix one thing, so you turned your focus on extending his arm out straight, one hand gripping onto his elbow and the other positioning your palm onto the out-of-place joint. With a steady and firm pressure, you pull on his arm until the bone popped back into place, earning a low groan from the older Jedi.

“Anakin,” he grit out of his teeth, eyes fluttering as he caught sight of a presence behind you. “Perfect timing.”

You turned your head, hands still holding Obi-Wan’s arm in place. Your heart began to beat double time as the weeks of worrying and stressing melted away.

There he was.

He stood tall in his black leather armor, curls dark and dripping with Kaminoan rain. His skin was pale and grey circles stained his undereyes, but he was beautiful as ever. Here, alive, and in once piece.

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#give me love #Anakin x fem reader #Anakin fic

[amethystpath-writes]

Political rivals ballroom scene? Where they have to pretend they actually like each other and dance together?

Idk :)

“Take your hand off of my waist.” The princess, Hirah, smiled, tongue against the roof of her mouth, as she walked down the steps beside her betrothed. She hated him, and she hated that she had to smile every time they stood side by side.

Giving a huff, and tucking his free arm behind his back, Prince Jasier said, “You should know as much as me that it is part of the act. Don’t ever think I enjoyed this moment in the future.” He tightened his grip on her hips a small bit, emphasizing that he wouldn’t be letting go. The princess was to be glued to his side; that was that.

“You don’t want this, and neither do I, so why are we?” She nearly, stupidly, ripped away from the prince, but his grip on her was firm. “I could hire a carriage,” she whispered. “Right now, I could disappear into the crowd and run to the carriage outside. I could return-”

“To your poor kingdom who is relying on this alliance with mine, which is only possible through your willing hand in marriage?” They came to the final step, and the blond prince turned in front of her, moving his hand at her waist to a white gloved hand of her own. He brought it to his lips and kissed it for all those dancing and pretending not to watch. “I knew you were a prude; I didn’t realize you were such a selfish one.”

Hirah giggled aloud, putting her free-hand on the side of the prince’s face, careful to avoid his cheekbone- one too sharp to be human. “You don’t care at all if I am pleased or not, do you?”

The prince touched a lock of her raven hair and pushed it behind her shoulders, chest inching closer to her own, head tilting down. “I might care a little more if you were not so stuck-up.”

She leaned forward, faulty smile tugging on the corners of her mouth as she looked at the devilish prince. “Is it really so wrong that I hate being forced into marriage?” Her lips met his as he stood a step beneath her. “I don’t even know you,” she said against his mouth, “yet here I am kissing you like my life depends on it. It’s disgusting.”

“Your life may not depend on it, but your peoples’ do.” He held onto her waist, lifting her near effortlessly and spinning her once, twice, until her feet finally touched the ballroom floor. Quiet giggles flittered around the two royals as they fell into a rhythmic dance, Jasier twirling Hirah, dipping her, and kissing her again and again.

Unfortunate for the princess, her rival-partner moved fast enough that she never had time to wipe her lips. He was on her, and she couldn’t clean him away. “I need a break,” she said over the music. Jasier didn’t hear her as they were stepping directly in front of the musicians. Hirah had a feeling the prince brought her over her on purpose. What the reason was, she didn’t know, but he seemed content not being able to hear her as he watched her lips move and only shrugged. Right, she was the prude.

As they passed the blaring music, Hirah tried again. “We need to stop. My legs are becoming sore.”

“The song is nearly over.”

“Well, I am sore now.”

When the prince didn’t stop the dancing, Hirah stopped her feet, letting them drag along the floor. She crashed into Jasier, which wasn’t the intention, but as they fell to the ground and he became the cushion, she didn’t mind so much.

Gasps filled the room, and it hardly took five seconds for the entire crowd to be shrouding the couple on the hard floor, tangled up in one another.

“Your Highnesses, are you okay?”

“Should we call for someone, a medic?”

“I think the princess might have broken her leg.”

“Oh, heavens. The poor dears.”

Hirah scoffed quietly and quickly pushed herself off the prince. “I didn’t break my stupid leg,” she grumbled, almost silently. As she stood, though, she announced, “Thank you all for your concern. I should like to take a break now.” She pushed and pushed through the crowd, watching the moonlit doorway as she went.

Almost there, almost there. Hirah pushed a man with a curly moustache- disgusting, she thought. Moustaches belonged on the poor men of her district, lumbermen, and fisherman, and all the nasty like- nasty because they were all the type of men to grab at her when she went for strolls in the markets of her kingdom. Hirah was grateful this one didn’t grab at her.

Continuing through the crowd, Hirah pushed a small woman with shoulder length hair, paying no attention to the colour. She pushed a servant- barely, as they actually had the sense to step aside. Finally, she made it to the open doorway, where she promptly sprinted with a lifted skirt and heels that were surely more dangerous than the tumble she had earlier. But she was out, and it didn’t matter that her heels were too tall. Hirah was out.

**Read below cut for some angst- and fluff, oops. 👀**

Where’s the carriage? It was no where to be seen beyond the enormous hedges. Hirah stopped, looking left and right. Where was she supposed to go? Wasn’t this supposed to be the front of the palace? Nothing was here but a stupid- albeit beautiful- garden that couldn’t be seen over from ground level.

“Wrong door.”

Hirah’s lip curled, and she dropped the skirt of her dress, shoulders sagging as she heard the prince’s voice, and a moment later, his footsteps.

“This is the back of the palace if you have not gathered that already. Thank you, by the way, for asking if my bones were okay. They are.”

“I didn’t care but thank you so much for volunteering the information. Maybe you can escort me to the front door?”

Jasier laughed. “If you would just let me be kind to you without scoffing in my face every time, maybe- just maybe- this wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t like it any better than you do, but this benefits both of our kingdoms. Why do you care so little for that?”

“If my kingdom only benefits from me sacrificing my free-will…”

“Then what?” Jasier asked. “It isn’t a death sentence to marry me, nor me to marry you. You are helping thousands upon thousands of people by sealing this alliance.”

The princess crossed her arms and turned her back to him. Hirah took a deep breath, closing her eyes. This was ridiculous. This dance, this betrothal, this lecture the prince was giving, all of it. It was all so ridiculous, and she just wanted to go home.

“You are heartless, and I am disappointed to have to marry you.” This was the coldest the prince’s voice had ever been since Hirah arrived.

It was odd to admit Jasier actually hurt her. Nevertheless, Hirah returned the malice. “So what if I am heartless! I am angry, and I have every right to be. I wasn’t told about this alliance until the day I was taken away.” Hirah spun on a heel, her right hand tugging on the glove of her left. She ripped it off and pointed to her wrist where bright bruises blossomed. “I was told a carriage awaited me and I was to get in without a word. I thought I was being kidnapped by an enemy kingdom- turns out I was.”

She pinned the prince with a glare. “And maybe I shouldn’t be angry with you for not knowing, but I am. I am angry with you and everyone and everything, and I don’t care that I am. I want to be mad; don’t you understand? I deserve to be infuriated. What I don’t deserve is you telling me I am awful for allowing this to happen. I might have been happy to be wedded, but never like this.” Hirah looked to her exposed wrist and gently ran a gloved finger over the most obvious bruise. “Never like this.”

For once, the prince didn’t know what to say. The marks on his bride’s wrist were clearly from a rope- maybe even a strong grip given how far it was spread. If he’d have known…No one told him it would be- or was- done like this. He knew he was to be married for months now, but no one told him it was…well, it was practically an invasion, wasn’t it? It was tyranny and…what else?

Who allowed for this- he touched Hirah’s arm. He didn’t remember taking those few steps closer, but here he was, squinting and holding the princess’ arm in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing else to say. “I had no idea. I-” Jasier shook his head. “It won’t happen again. I- I won’t allow it.”

Hirah pulled her hand away, gloving it again. She was told not to show her bruises to the prince, so she believed Jasier when he said he was unaware of her treatment. The princess blinked and took a deep breath. “I still have no remorse for the anger I have felt, but it would be cruel to say you deserved my harsh words. I’m scared is all. I’m scared you are like the rest.”

“It may be pointless to say, but I would have never allowed for that treatment if I had known. I would have made sure you had prior knowledge and that it was willing and- and I would have come myself. I-”

“Shh.” Hirah didn’t wish to talk about it any longer. “Will you take me to my room?”

The prince nodded. “I can do that.”

Both knew, at this point in the exchange, that her running away would only create more problems. She was in Jasier’s kingdom, and that was where she would have to remain. The prince hated it, and Hirah did, too, obviously, but nothing could be done, except to hope that with the marriage, she wouldn’t be treated so harshly again, and maybe she could even come to trust Jasier. They would be married, after all. Maybe they could make it work, no matter how crooked their kingdom would be.

At the very least, Jasier planned to find out who handled his betrothed as they did. Never before had the prince aspired for violence, but a man who dealt it so eagerly deserved to have it dealt back to him. Jasier would be happy to deliver the message himself.

#request fill #medieval #medieval writing #forced marriage #thank you nonny!