#for someone who lied SO many times A sure is strangely oblivious to the fact that guilty people can lie! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

parkerslatte · 3 years

Text

Tough Times [two]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2k

Summary: After a tough case, Y/N begins to question whether her friendship with Spencer is something more. Penelope, helps Y/N put things into perspective.

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

MASTERLIST

***

When the BAU got home from their most recent case, Hotch let everyone have the full weekend to recharge and rest. Y/N bid goodbye to everyone and headed into the bullpen and over to her desk. She needed to pick up a couple of things before she headed home. She sat down in her chair and leant back. Y/N wasn’t aware of anyone else in the room until they cleared their throat behind her.

Y/N spun around in her chair to come face to face with Spencer. He clutched the strap of his bag tightly. She gave him a small smile as a greeting.

“What are you still doing here?” He questioned, he hesitated before taking a small step towards her.

“I’ve just got to pick up a couple of things first,” Y/N responded, “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Okay, well I’ll see you on Monday.” Spencer said before giving Y/N a parting smile and leaving.

Y/N sighed and leaned back in her chair. Normally, Y/N and Spencer would practically spend the entire weekend together. They were best friends at work as well as outside of work. Where one of them would be, the other wouldn’t be too far behind. However, since the both of them woke up in her hotel room, things had felt slightly different between the two.

***

The alarm on Y/N’s phone went off, causing the quiet hotel room to fill with noise. Y/N let out a groan as she was rudely awoken by it. Slowly, she opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the light. She was laying down facing the door, a completely different position she remembered falling asleep in. In fact she didn’t remember going to sleep at all. Y/N went to move to get out of the bed and it was then she noticed an arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she turned her head slightly to see the sleeping face of Spencer Reid - how her alarm hadn’t woken him up, she didn’t know. Her back was pressed tightly against his chest while his arms were locked securely around her, preventing her from moving too much. Y/N didn’t know why but she had a weird feeling in her stomach...butterflies?

Spencer’s hair was messy from sleeping and he had a peaceful expression on his face. To Y/N, he looked completely and utterly adorable. A soft smile spread across her features. She almost didn’t want to wake him up. One reason being that she was very comfortable wrapped up in his arms and the other reason being that it was most likely going to be incredibly awkward when he woke up.

Y/N gripped onto Spencer’s wrist and tried to gently pry his arm away from her waist. It failed horrendously. Spencer only pulled her into his body more, his head burying itself in the crook of her neck. Y/N felt herself blush.

Trying another tactic, Y/N gripped onto his forearm and began to shake him slightly, “Hey, Spencer, wake up.” He lightly stirred but didn’t wake up. Y/N shook him a little more, “Hey, wake up.”

Y/N could feel Spencer sigh into her neck before he began to open his eyes. At first Spencer was confused, but then he realised what he was doing. He quickly woke up and unwrapped his arms from around Y/N and sat up on the bed spouting out apologies.

“No, it’s okay - totally fine.” Y/N said, sitting up as well, feeling her bones crack. She instantly felt the cool morning air get to her skin. She instantly missed the feeling and warmth of Spencer's arms. Spencer missed the feeling of her wrapped in his arms.

“No, I shouldn’t have-” Spencer began.

“Spence, it’s fine seriously. We both fell asleep. It’s okay.” Y/N said, getting up from the bed, collecting clothes to wear on the plane journey home.

***

Ever since waking up in that position, things had been slightly awkward between the two best friends and Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it. Unbeknownst to her, Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about it either.

The rest of the team could tell something was up as well. They know that on practically every journey home from a acse, Y/N and Spencer would sit on the couch and read, Y/N legs thrown over Spencer’s lap. However, on this journey home, the two were sitting at two opposite ends on the plane. Spencer was sat by Rossi and Y/N was sat by Emily. Everyone could tell that something was up with the both of them but they knew better than to question it.

Y/N grabbed what she needed out of the drawer of her and headed home.

As soon as she entered the threshold of her apartment, her phone rang. She closed her door and threw her bag down on her couch before flopping down on it and answering it, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Hello?” Y/N answered.

“Hey Y/N!” Penelope answered.

“Oh, hey Pen,” Y/N greeted happily once realising who it was, “What’s up?”

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” She asked, “If not do you wanna go shopping and get a coffee or something. If you don’t want to go that’s completely fine, I know you just got back from a tough case and you want to rest. I can ask someone else if not-”

“Pen, slow down, I’d love to go, what time?” Y/N questioned.

“Uh, noon at the cute little coffee shop we always go to.” She answered.

“I’ll see you there.” Y/N said and bid goodbye to Penelope before hanging up the phone.

***

The next day, Y/N made her way to the coffee shop she was meeting Penelope at. It was a cold day so she had her coat wrapped tightly around her and a scarf around her neck. What she originally failed to realise was the scarf wasn’t hers - it was Spencer’s. He had left it at her apartment a week prior, she had just forgotten to return it. By the time Y/N noticed that she was wearing Spencer’s scarf, it was too late to turn back and swap it out for one of hers.

Y/N entered the coffee shop and she instantly clocked Penelope. As usual her friends was wearing bright and colourful clothing so she was easy to pick out in the crowded coffee shop. Y/N headed over to Penelope and greeted her. Penelope quickly jumped up and threw her arms around Y/N.

Penelope had already gotten drinks and due to her knowing Y/N so well, she knew her usual order, “I got your drink already so you don’t have to wait in line.”

Y/N smiled gratefully, “Thanks Pen. The next set of drinks are on me.”

The two fell into easy chatter for the next hour - they never ran out of anything to talk about. That was one of the reasons why Y/N enjoyed talking to Penelope so much, it kept her mind off of the whole Spencer situation. Well, until Penelope brought it up.

“So what’s going on with you and Boy Wonder?” Penelope asked.

“What?” Y/N asked, “Nothing’s going on, we’re fine.”

“Then why did Derek call me and tell me that on the way home, you two were acting strange?”

“We were just tired, that’s all.” Y/N lied.

“Y/N, sweetie, I’m not a profiler but I can tell when you’re lying,” Penelope said, her eyebrows furrowing, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Y/N sighed and took a sip of her drink before answering, “Well, things have just been slightly awkward between us.”

***

Y/N grabbed her overnight bag and threw it on the bed. Spencer had awkwardly left after their little incident after waking up, saying that he should go and grab his things before they left. Y/N offered to go and help him once she grabbed her things but he refused, saying that he can do it himself.

Y/N didn’t know why she was feeling the ways she was. Spencer was her best friend - she shouldn’t be feeling these things for him. Y/N made sure everything was in her bag and that she had everything before leaving the room. On her way down to the hotel lobby, she ran into Spencer on the elevator. At the moment, she didn’t want to be alone with him but she knew that it would make things even more awkward if she went to another elevator or took the stairs. Reluctantly, she stepped in after him.

The two were silent the entire way down. Both of them wanted to say something but they both stayed silent. Y/N rocked backwards and forwards on her feet while Spencer fiddled with the strap of his bag. If this were any other day, the elevator would be filled with chatter but it was now filled with deafening silence. The elevator seemed to be going extra slow, causing Y/n to let out a small groan.

“You okay?” Spencer spoke up.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Y/N said, “Just tired.”

Spencer only nodded before the silence fell upon the two yet again. Finally, after what felt like forever, the doors of the elevator opened. In her head, Y/N let out a sigh of relief. The rest of the team were already in the lobby waiting for the two.

“There they are, let’s go.” Hotch said, before they left the hotel.

Y/N caught up to Emily and JJ while Spencer stayed near the back with Morgan and Rossi. Everyone gave Y/N and Spencer weird looks, which they ignored. The two of them would always walk at the back of the group chatting up a storm that sometimes someone would have to tell them to lower the volume. The two not interacting was out of character for them.

Even more questioning glances were thrown around once they got onto the plane. Y/N sat next to Emily while Spencer sat next to Rossi. Two completely opposite sides on the plane. At one point, Y/N went to get up and get a drink for herself but when she noticed Spencer doing the same, she sat back down and waited until he had sat back down to get one. Now everyone knew for sure that something was up with the two geniuses.

***

Y/N finished telling Penelope what happened with her and Spencer in the hotel room and Penelope sat there, mouth wide open.

“You two are completely oblivious.” Penelope stated.

“What? Oblivious how?” Y/N said.

“You love each other!” Penelope exclaimed, maybe a little too loud since many people looked over to their table.

“Love each other? Penelope, what are you on?” Y/N questioned, “We’re best friends, that’s all.”

“Yeah, best friends who love each other. And I don’t mean that in a platonic way, I totally mean it in a huge, romantic, lovey dovey way.” Penelope said, exaggerating her statement by moving her hands wildly.

“Penelope, I don’t love Spencer and he doesn’t love me,” Y/N said, “If we did love each other, why were we so awkward interacting?”

“Because you both finally realised it!” Penelope stated, “It’s so obvious Y/N. The two of you always spend practically every waking moment with each other, I’m surprised you aren’t with him right now. You know how Reid is with germs, have you noticed that when it comes to you, he doesn’t care. You flirt all the time, even if you don’t realise you’re doing it,” Penelope rambled on, “I can give you a list of many more reasons if you want.”

Y/N sighed, swirling the little bit of drink that was left in the bottom of her mug. She didn’t have any words. Y/N hadn’t really been in love before, sure she has had partners in the past but she wouldn’t necessarily say she loved them. Now thinking of Spencer, she can see where Penelope is coming from.

“You’re realising it now aren’t you?” Penelope questioned.

“I don’t know, I guess I just need to think it through.” Y/N said.

“Y/N, you overthink things too much. Don’t think, just do.” Penelope said.

Y/n didn’t reply.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler

244 notes · View notes

willowcrowned · 3 years

Text

Grey Apprentice AU (Installment #4)

aka Sith!Obi-Wan AU Flavor II

(Previous parts: x x x)

Qui-Gon paces the length of his and Obi-Wan's small sitting room, first once, then twice, then a third time. He looks up, expecting the usual dry comment from Obi-Wan on jedi masters’ peaceful bodies and minds, but he’s not there. Of course, that’s the problem in the first place: Obi-Wan is gone, off on a ship with a figure that felt like a maelstrom of darkness in the Force, and he’d left with a wink. The man must know something Qui-Gon doesn’t, but what it is, he can’t guess.

He turns, pausing at the entrance to Obi-Wan's room. He normally doesn’t enter without permission; it’s an invasion of Obi-Wan's privacy— privacy to which he is well entitled— but in this case...

Qui-Gon grimaces, opening the door. He won’t snoop, won’t do anything other than have a superficial look. At the very least it might calm him down to have tangible evidence of Obi-Wan's intention to return. When they’d left, he hadn’t taken the black bag he usually keeps with him, a velvet thing smaller than Qui-Gon's palm. Obi-Wan wouldn’t have left it if he thought he’d be gone for more than a week.

The room is just as Obi-Wan had left it, tidy and empty, with a plant on the desk next to a picture of his friends, a spare cloak hung up on the peg next to the door, and a blanket folded perfectly at the foot of his bed. It’s the room of a knight, not of a padawan, Qui-Gon realizes, and he has to push down the surge of pride and guilt that seems to swell up in his chest more and more often these days.

He frowns, for the first time noticing the odd pressure building in his brain. It’s a strange, blunt, thing— the marked absence of something, rather than its presence. He scans the room once more for the offending object, for the first time noticing an odd red glow from the closet. Qui-Gon pauses. He’d said he wouldn’t touch anything, but— The glow grows brighter, and he can hear the Force calling to him from it, not light, not peaceful, but not unkind. Qui-Gon sighs, and opens the closet door.

The glow is coming from the floor, within the black bag Obi-Wan had left behind. Qui-Gon looks at it, a furrow forming in his brows. It’s not Obi-Wan's habit to leave things on the floor, and the cleaning crews haven’t been in their apartments since they left. When he picks up the bag, intending to return it to its place on the shelf, a white-hot pain sears through his hand, and he drops it. The bag tumbles to the floor, and out of it falls a holocron.

It’s the last thing Qui-Gon notices before the onslaught of darkness hits him, pressing him beneath a tsunami of emotion. The fury slams into him first, not so hot as the zabrak’s had been but far, far, deeper. Qui-Gon falls to his knees without noticing, forced to sustain the mental battering of his shields. He can feel them weakening even as he clutches them tighter, being torn away bit by bit like an old house in a storm.

How is no one noticing this, Qui-Gon wonders. How come no one has come in to see what this endless wave of darkness is— this storm with no light.

The first tear in his shields happens, and he works it shore it up, plugging it with whatever he can think of: random bits of trivia, a poem, a meal he shared with Obi-Wan. Stay, he tells them, give me time. The pieces do not stay, each layer being ripped away until all that’s left was the look on Obi-Wan's face as he realized the sandwich he’d bitten into was filled with candied ants. Then, abruptly, the maelstrom stops, and Qui-Gon is left grasping for the pieces of his shields, the void around them quiet once more.

“Do forgive my intrusion,” a female voice says, dry and unapologetic as Qui-Gon struggles to get control of his breathing on the floor. “You know how it is: better safe than sorry.”

Qui-Gon falls back, resting against the wall as he tries to catch his breath. “What are you?” He says, injecting his tone with as little worry as he can manage. “What are you doing here?” What are you doing in Obi-Wan's room, he wants to add. What have you done to my padawan?

Zannah’s nose scrunches slightly, halfway between amused and disgusted. “Your shields are down, Jedi.”

“I wonder why that is,” he manages.

She shrugs. “I’m not going to apologize.”

Qui-Gon patches up his shields, weaving the skeleton of the old threads of memory into a new place, beside several strong pockets of compulsion. It won’t be enough to stop the woman if she attacks him again, but it might gain him a few seconds of reprieve. It will have to be enough.

“As for your questions,” the woman says once he’s finished, “A Sith, sleeping, Obi-Wan brought me here, and I’ve done nothing to him.”

“Nothing,” Qui-Gon repeats, disbelieving, the aftershocks of her attack still filtering through his mind.

“Yes,” the woman says. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Darth Zannah. I’d tell you to sit down, but, well...” She gestures to him collapsed on the floor.

Qui-Gon shakes his head, trying to disseminate the information. “Does he know you’re here? Does he know what he brought back?” Surely not, he thinks. Surely Obi-Wan wouldn’t have knowingly brought a Sith into the heart of the Jedi temple.

“I should hope so,” Zannah says, “given that I’ve been training him for twelve years.”

“Twelve—” Qui-Gon freezes.

“Yes,” Zannah agrees, “since Bandomeer.”

“Impossible,” Qui-Gon breathes.

“Is it?” Zannah raises an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of Obi-Wan— or, no, all this time Obi-Wan must have been imitating her. Qui-Gon remembers when he picked that little habit up; it had been the months after he’d turned seventeen, just beginning to grow into his too-long limbs, still gawkish and almost awkward. Then, over the course of their mission, his gait had grown smoother, countenance more graceful, and his awkward smiles at Qui-Gon's jokes had turned into an amused raised eyebrow and half-smirk.

It had felt odd at the time, watching the maladroit child he knew turn into a clever, subtle, adult, but he knows it now as the sign of Obi-Wan growing up, leaving Qui-Gon as a student and returning to him as a friend. He remembers the white stone of the city, remembers the late spring blossoms of the sea-roses, remembers the first time Obi-Wan had turned that quizzical look on him— and feels the taste of the memory, sweet with the blossoms, turn to ash in his mouth.

“How—” Qui-Gon starts, mouth dry. “Why—”

“I offered him knowledge,” Zannah says, not unkindly, “and companionship not to be found in the constraints of Jedi.”

“Why train him?” Qui-Gon asks, clutching at proof that she has not— could not— have trained Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan is kind, and clever, and selfless, and none of the things a Sith should be. He cannot have lied so fully for so many years. He cannot. “Why not train someone else? Someone you wouldn’t have to corrupt first?”

Zannah gives him an incredulous look. “You think I’ve corrupted him? Have you forgotten Ghé’aiit so easily? That was not the behavior of one corrupted.”

Qui-Gon feels ire stir deep in his chest, at her prodding, guiding rhetoric, but the memory springs to him unbidden.

It had begun as a trade dispute. Three families, each the head of a government and of a trade sector. The Jedi had initially been brought in to facilitate negotiations; those had lasted all of two nights, ending with Obi-Wan kidnapped and in chains— a hostage for the third family. Qui-Gon hadn’t known that at the time, of course. He’d only known that Obi-Wan was gone and the place where their bond was had turned to a jagged mess of edges before it disappeared into nothingness.

He’d found Obi-Wan again, oblivious to Qui-Gon's presence, escaped and facing the Third Peer, who was holding a blaster to his sister’s head. It would have been easy, laughably easy, for Obi-Wan to let him shoot her, claim he had gotten there too late to save her, and arrested the Third Peer with little risk to himself. Instead, Obi-Wan had lain down his blaster, and braced himself for the shot.

(Later, when their bond was back and whole, Qui-Gon had blocked it off again, too overwhelmed by fear and relief not to yell at Obi-Wan. How could he yell at Obi-Wan, when he’d done exactly as a Jedi should do? But how could he not be angry, not be furious, that he had lain down his blaster and braced himself for death as if it were second nature? How can I forgive you, Qui-Gon had thought then, for almost leaving me? How will I be able to let you go when it’s time?)

“He scared me too,” Zannah says softly. “When I heard what he had done, I could barely restrain myself. Foolish, loving, Jedi, and their need to do the right thing.”

“I hope you don’t think,” Qui-Gon says, tired, “that I trust you.”

“No,” Zannah says. “You’re not a stupid man, on the whole. I hope you will trust Obi-Wan, though.”

Qui-Gon sits straight up, reminded of what had caused his agitation in the first place. “Obi-Wan. You sent him after that darksider?”

“Darth Maul,” Zannah agrees. “I wouldn’t fear, he’s not a match for Obi-Wan— merely the servant of the Sith Master.”

“You would send Obi-Wan to do another Sith’s dirty work?” Qui-Gon doesn’t hide the curl of his lip from her, meeting her gaze head-on. “I thought the masters were supposed to discard their apprentices themselves.”

“I do not,” she hisses, eyes flashing, “do that creature’s dirty work.”

“Lady Zannah—” Qui-Gon replies coldly.

“Lord, actually,” Zannah corrects, and all of a sudden the fire has left her eyes. “The title is ‘lord’ regardless of gender. A Sith Lady is a different job entirely.”

“Lord Zannah,” Qui-Gon corrects, making sure she can hear the eye-roll inherent in his tone, “Are you implying that not only are you embroiled in a rivalry with another Sith clan, but that you have, in fact, created your own?”

“We call them houses,” Zannah replies. “Mine is that of Athén. And you are correct, Obi-Wan is a part of it. We are a House of two.”

Fantastic, Qui-Gon thinks bitterly, and his patch-job must not be as good as he thinks it is because he swears he hears Zannah chuckle. He sighs. “Out of curiosity, what is the job of a Sith Lady?”

“A combination of cultural advisor, archivist, and magic user. And occasionally a consort.” Zannah smiles a wickedly sharp smile. “I much prefer being a Lord.”

Yes, Qui-Gon thinks, not caring that she can hear it. You would.

Some notes:

-Yes Zannah did name her house after her dead wife, who is in turn named after Athena, because I am a basic, basic, bitch

-Yes, I did borrow the line about Sith jobs from the Enchanted Forest Chronicles. Patricia C. Wrede I’m so sorry I’m using your work for my nonsense AUs but also those books shaped me as a human, so. Too Bad. They’re a part of my writing now.

- I included a bug-eating joke because apparently I am constantly under the compulsion to talk about people in sw eating bugs. I have no excuses

#I still need a name for this AU so if you've got suggestions hand 'em over #this is long enough to be an actual fic chapter #but it is also woefully underedited and I dislike posting unfinished things on AO3 in any case #on the offchance I do ever finish this story I may edit and post it on AO3 #star wars #star wars au #sith au #sith!obi wan #darth zannah #qui gon jinn #grey apprentice AU

166 notes · View notes

stylesberries · 4 years

Text

Fireflies

Summary: Harry has been acting weird for a couple of weeks, but when y/n finally finds out the truth, it’s far from what she assumed.

Genre(s): fluff, a tiniest bit of angst maybe?

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning(s): Harry being a cutie patootie that he is :,)

Harry has been acting weird for a couple of weeks now and you started to get suspicious. He would come home late most of the days and keep you waiting in your bed. The other days he would mysteriously disappear in the morning. “Went out for a run.” He would tell you. What kind of run lasts for five hours?

Of course, you would never suspect him of cheating on you. He has proven his love to you over and over again, and one had to be completely oblivious of what love is, not to notice how head over heels in love he was with you.

However, the way he was acting made you overthink. You were worried for him and his well-being. All of the worst things that could happen took over your mind. Health issues, disagreements with the management, bickering within the family, and many other possible problems that he could have been facing filled your mind to the brim.

Here you were now, sitting at your kitchen table, eating dinner alone. Harry still hasn’t come home and it was already nine o’clock in the evening, when he promised to get home at six.

You trusted Harry. You really did. However, you didn’t want him to use the fact that you trust him with everything you have, to get home late for the second week in a row. You wouldn’t have been against him staying out late if he had just told you he truth.

You sat in your seat and rolled the pasta you made on a fork. All of your appetite has vanished even before you started making the food, but you still forced yourself to eat, to get your mind off of your ever wandering boyfriend.

As you started to get into your food, you heard the keys turn in the front door. No food for you today.

Your name wasn’t called like it usually is, when Harry walks into the front door. The only sound you heard was the shuffling and the clacking of keys being placed on the table in the hall.

You could tell that Harry was trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid you noticing him.

As he tried to pass the kitchen door quietly, you got up from your place and walked up to him. He was wearing his blue sweater, corduroy flares and a face of someone trying to hide something from their girlfriend.

“Harry?” You asked sternly.

He turned his head to you and put on a smile while pushing something behind his back.

“Hello, love. I-I didn’t want t’disturb you, s-so I-um-” He tried to lie to you, although he knew pretty well he was awful at lying and I was too good at catching lies.

You turned your gaze to his hands that were hidden from you behind his back.

“Harry, what’s behind your back?” You asked straightforwardly.

He looked uncomfortable and seemed to have been taken aback by your question.

“It’s um-” He brought his hands forward. They held a black folder visibly full of papers. “It’s m’folder with song ideas.” He seemed unsure of the statement himself, but you put the blame on the fact, that he was left dumbfounded by your actions. What was that about though?

“Why were you hiding it from me then?” You seemed honestly confused because he always shared his songwriting process with you.

“Was just writing a song f’you, but I will show it t’you when it’s completely done.” He blabbered to you.

Seems like a plausible reason to hide the folder from you. It was strange, because he would write his song ideas in his phone now, but you brushed those thoughts off.

“Okay then, love. I thought you were coming home at six.” You turned to the clock on the wall to see that the time is 9:24.

Harry followed your gaze and realized that he had indeed come home a little overtime.

“Got carried away in the studio, baby. ‘M sorry, should’ve informed you.” His shoulders sank, as he realized that you had been waiting for him for over three hours.

“It’s okay, Harry. But please, next time you’re planning to get late, tell me, alright? I thought something happened.”

The sternness in your voice subsided as you walked closer to Harry. You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck. He pulled you closer and placed his cheek on the top of your head. You felt his jaw move on top of your head, but before he got a chance to make a sound, you spoke.

“I’m worried for you, baby. It’s driving me insane. What’s going on? I know it’s not just studio. It has to be something else. You’ve never acted like this before. It scares me.” You whispered the last part almost to yourself, but you knew that the man heard you clearly.

“I didn’t mean t’worry you, precious.” He took time to think his words through. “I know, I’ve been actin’ off these days, baby. I promise you it’s nothing y’should worry about. It’s the album release coming up. I didn’t mean t’cause you anxiety, angel. ‘M so sorry.” He genuinely seemed sorry, and you felt the need to kiss his pouty lips.

That evening you went to sleep spooning Harry and brushing his curls out of his face. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. All you wanted to do was keep him safe and warm.

When you woke up, Harry wasn��t there anymore, which didn’t surprise you, as it wasn’t the first time you found yourself curled up in the blanket all alone.

You pushed your sleepy body off of the bed and pushed your feet into the slippers at the bed. You brushed your teeth and thought of what you’ll be getting yourself busy with on this Saturday morning. All of the documents you had to go through for work were already sent back to your company, and you found yourself wonder what other errands you had to run.

You opened the calendar on your phone to check your schedule. You were startled to find out that it was your birthday today. You were so anxious about the way your boyfriend has been acting, that your own birthday was clean forgotten.

Your mood was instantly ruined when you understood that Harry left you alone on your birthday, but as you walked down the stairs to make yourself some breakfast, you felt the smell of pancakes lingering in the air.

The corners of your lips flew up and you ran to the kitchen to catch your boyfriend red-handed.

Harry heard the loud steps coming his way, so he turned to the door and placed the scoop back into the bowl of pancake batter.

“Who’s this lil’ cheetah running m’way, huh?” Harry teased you loudly and spread his arms, welcoming you with a hug.

You jumped into his arms, and he caught you to pick you up and hold up by your waist.

“Legs ‘round m’waist, birthday girl.” Harry laughed against your chest as you did as he told. You placed your arms around his neck and let him place a kiss on your jaw.

“I thought you left me on my birthday.” You pouted at him, when he withdrew from your neck.

You could see regret overflow him, before being replaced with endless love.

“How could I ever leave the love of m’life on ‘er birthday? What kind of love is it, if I’m not by your side on your day, angel?” He stared right through you, as if directly at your heart.

His words took you by surprise, and it was written all over your face. Harry noticed you questioning his words.

“The love of your life?” You asked him softly, looking right into his loving eyes.

“The love of m’life.” He nodded with a smile on his face.

After sharing a moment full of love, you sat down to enjoy the slightly burnt pancakes, while discussing your plans for today.

You both changed out of your sleeping clothes and left the house to go to the new bookshop you’ve been wanting to go to for some time, but never got a chance to.

After hoarding several books, both for you and Harry, you asked Harry if you could get some ice-cream.

“Ice-Cream it is then, m’love.” Harry smiled and pulled out of the parking to get on the route to your favorite ice-cream parlor.

After you dropped one of your ice-creams and got another one, Harry told you that he has a surprise for you.

Harry told you that he will take you to a special place after the sun sets, and you couldn’t be more excited. You kept asking him over and over again about where he’s taking you, but he wouldn’t crack.

When you were finally on your way to the place, you kept thinking about how lucky you are, watching the sun set. You realized that all of the anxiety that you felt in these last two weeks was completely unnecessary.

Reaching the place after an hour long ride, Harry helped you out of the car and led you away from the road. As you walked closer to the place he was leading you to, you could see a beautiful field full of a variety of flowers that surrounded a small lake. Harry seemed full of anxiety as he lead you to an old stone platform by the field. You would expect there to be a table with a candlelit dinner, but there wasn’t a single source of light near you, except the stars, that scattered in the dark clear sky and several fireflies, that bee-lined around the trees that surrounded the field.

“Harry, this place is beautiful.” You were speechless and this was the only sentence you trusted yourself with saying.

Harry led you to stand in the middle of the platform, looking upon the night sky. You could tell he was in deep thought, but you couldn’t tell what was bothering him. Harry, as if hearing your thoughts, turned to you and smiled at you softly.

“It is beautiful. Took me a while to find a place worthy of you.” Harry kept looking at me with his eyes full of adoration.

You weren’t completely sure why he formed his sentence like that, but you were sure you were not here to just stargaze.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Harry. He walked back to the car, which wasn’t too far away from the stone platform, and left you standing there full of confusion.

He opened the trunk of the car to get something. On his way back, you could see that he was holding the black folder that you caught him sneaking into the house just yesterday.

“Is he going to sing me a song?” Your thoughts were all over the place at this point, once again interrupted by your nervous boyfriend.

“Y/N.” He called you by your name with such seriousness that made you listen to him even closer than before.

“I lied t’you.” He started. “The folder had nothin’ to do with m’songs.” You were already dumbfounded because Harry never lied to you, so it had to be something very important for him to do so.

He pulled the elastic band off of the cover of the folder and opened it. He passed you the folder and spoke again.

“You were right when y’said that the past couple of weeks I’ve been actin’ weird. The fact that y’know me s’well scares me sometimes, t’be honest.” He tried to make a joke to ease his nerves.

As he spoke, you let your eyes skim the first page. It was a model of beautiful stone house with French windows and dark green tiling on the roof.

“We’ve been together fo’ almost three years, love, and I’ve never been happier. I hope y’feel the same.” He shyly questioned.

You couldn’t get yourself to answer him using words, so you nodded with a soft smile. You looked into his eyes and saw how little sleep he’s been getting written all over his face. Now you felt like everything made sense. All of his late nights in the studio and his constant excuses to get out of the house.

“I want t’spend m’whole life with you, Y/N. All of it. I want t’marry you and start a family with you. I know that you’re not ready t’get married yet, and I’m not pushing you. This place doesn’t mean that we have t’get married right away or have children right away, I just want t’start building our new home here.” He took my hands into his shaking ones and brought them to his chest.

“Right where you’re standing.”

His words made my eyes well up with tears, as I looked at my feet. “Right where you’re standing.” His words echoed in my head, as I felt his heart beating hysterically.

“I thought this would be a perfect place. The air here is great.” He started slowly. “I know you wouldn’t want our babies t’grow up breathin’ the car exhausts.” He added coyly.

At this point his heart was racing, and he could only look down at his feet. Noticing you pull your hands out of his hold, Harry was afraid to look up at you to see that you are turning to leave him alone in the field, he stupidly thought you’d want to live in.

“Do you actually think that I could ever say no to this, Harry?” You gently smiled at him and brought your hands to his cheeks to caress his face with your thumbs. Your fingers felt wet on his skin and as you realized the reason, your face softened even more.

“My boy, my precious baby. Of course I want to spend my whole life with you. I could never want to share this life with anyone else. And children? Your children are the only children I’ll ever want to bear, in every meaning of that word, and you know it.”

As your heart spoke for you, you could feel Harry relax and let himself look at you. The wet traces on his cheeks were only getting more defined just like the smile on his face.

“I dunno what I’d do if y’said no.” Harry stands still, as you bring your lips to his and let yourself collect the tears on them.

“Why would you even think about it, if I’ve already said yes?”

Your lips connect as a firefly passes next to you, standing right in the place of your nearing future.

#harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles masterlist #watermelon sugar #fine line

863 notes · View notes

suddencolds · 3 years

Text

Pretense | Genshin Impact | 2/2

Part 2 of my Gen/shin Imp/act fic w Childe/Zhongli, ft. a cold, a meeting Childe doesn’t want to cancel, and dinner with Zhongli. (Here’s part 1!)

—

Zhongli stands. “Childe,” he says earnestly. “I was beginning to worry that something had happened.”

“Trouble at work,” Childe says dismissively. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, that’s for sure.” It’s not the full truth, but how can he tell Zhongli that he’s only late because his cold is taking its toll on his usual brutal efficiency? He’s sure that, in conjunction with his lateness, it would only sound like an excuse. “I’m sorry to make you wait.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Zhongli says, unperturbed as ever. “You are worth waiting for.”

Childe grins at him, a little shakily. “Still, it’s cold out. Had I been closer to town, I would’ve sent someone to tell you about the delay. “I didn’t think you would still be here.”

“You are the one who suggested for us to meet here,” Zhongli counters. “It was only natural for me to uphold the agreement until you arrived.”

Childe wonders if he’s like this with everyone—loyal and almost infuriatingly genuine. Surely Zhongli has run into his fair share of people who don’t keep their promises—Childe wonders, not for the first time, if there’s any limit to his seemingly limitless patience.

“Is everything resolved now?” Zhongli asks.

“Yeah. I just ran into some difficulty with recruits. You know how it is,” Childe says. “Business as usual, yet the newcomers can be… difficult to cater to.” He conveniently leaves out the fact that he’s usually the one pushing himself past his limits to impress them—that’s not something Zhongli needs to know. “I had a couple good spars with them, though!” He makes a show out of stretching, stifling a yawn. “If I’m more tired than usual, that’s probably why.”

Zhongli only nods. “If you are tired, we can postpone our walk, and end our meeting early so that you can be properly rested when—”

“No,” Childe says, maybe too quickly. “No, no, it’s okay. You waited all this time for me, and… I’m excited for tonight.” That’s not a lie. He feels better standing next to Zhongli already—something about being in his presence makes him feel strangely comforted.

There’s also the irrelevant, lesser-known fact that Childe hates being alone when he’s ill. But that’s not something he intends to share, either.

“So…” he sniffles as discretely as possible. “...dinner?”

Zhongli smiles to him. “I am looking forward to it.”

They fall easily into step, shoulder to shoulder. Liyue is busy as always, and one of the merchants—carrying something or other, not looking where they’re going—bumps into him, sending him closer to Zhongli. It’s only a moment of contact, but Zhongli is… warm. Childe pulls away quickly so that Zhongli doesn’t feel him shiver.

As always, Zhongli talks, and Childe finds himself more than content to listen. For once, he’s glad that the market is so loud—it makes it so that when he sniffles or clears his throat, it’s not very noticeable.

Halfway through the walk, though, a familiar, sharp prickle settles back in his nose. Zhongli is still talking, so Childe turns away slightly, his breath wavering.

“... hH!”

“The jade plaques are hand-carved, so they are all unique,” Zhongli is saying, oblivious, as they pass a stall that sells jade pendants. “As jade goes, it is priced for its translucency and the evenness in its coloration, though true jade always has imperfections.”

Childe pinches the bridge of his nose in a desperate attempt to stave off the growing urge to sneeze. “A double edged… hH! S-sword,” he comments. “I imagine that if they’re too clear, there’s a chance they… Hiih! … might be counterfeits.”

Zhongli nods sagely. “That’s right. Jade plaques like this are especially valuable, given their history, which makes them a popular relic for dishonest merchants to emulate. It is said that they were originally made to honor Rex Lapis, Lord of Geo, back before his form was—”

Childe jerks away, cupping his hand over his face as a sneeze snaps him forward.

“HiiHH’ISCHHEW!”

The sneeze echoes in his cupped hands, barely muffled, and still… loud. He flushes, embarrassed, as he lowers his hands slowly from his face.

“Bless you,” Zhongli says.

Faintly, Childe realizes that Zhongli is looking at him. Childe refuses to meet his eyes. He’s sure that if he makes eye contact now, Zhongli will be able to see straight through him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Childe says, sniffling again.

Zhongli is quiet for a moment, observing him with his usual scrutiny. Childe wonders if his hesitance is out of disgust.

“Are you alright?” he says finally.

Childe nods. “I’m fine! Must be that…” he looks around. They’re next to one of the food stands that's heavy on its spices, which he assumes is as good of an excuse as any. “...one of the spices here… hhIH… hIHh’NDGt!” He almost winces, turning away to sniffle with one knuckle pressed to his face. “...doesn’t agree with me, ahaha. Nothing to worry about! Uh, you were talking about the Lord of Geo’s forms?”

“Ah. Yes,” Zhongli says. He launches into the history of jade plaques and Rex Lapis’s many forms, and somewhere along the way, Childe forgets what he’s worried about.

The sun’s going down, and uncharacteristically the cool air is making him shiver. He crosses his arms mid-walk in a mostly-futile effort to conserve warmth, but it doesn’t do much. In between his frequent interjections, his voice is starting to sound worse, too—he supposes he’s overused it in talking to the recruits; it’s lucky that Zhongli is content to do most of the talking.

When they get to Wanmin, Zhongli leads him to one of the tables outside.

“Wanmin is well-known for its variety,” Zhongli says. “While it offers Li style and Yue style food, you will find that Chef Mao also fulfills even the most specific of customer requests.”

“Specific customer requests, huh,” Childe says. “Does that mean you’ve ordered something off the menu here, xiansheng?”

Zhongli smiles. “I have ordered everything except for the seafood dishes.”

“I forgot about your aversion to seafood,” Childe admits, laughing. “You will have to tell me the story behind it someday. Besides that, what do you suggest?”

“I think I have something in mind,” Zhongli says untellingly, looking contemplative. “First, sit down.”

Childe obliges. Sitting down is a relief—as much as he would never admit it, their short walk has left him exhausted. He resists the urge to slump forward on the seat. Worse, the persistent itch in his nose from earlier is back.

“Stay here. I will order for you,” Zhongli says, laying a hand on his arm, and Childe—

Childe actually shivers, which is embarrassing, to say the least. Luckily, Zhongli doesn’t seem to notice. “Don’t forget about the mora,” he says, and fishes for a pouch of coins from his pocket. “Here. I’m sure Chef Mao has dealt with his fair share of your forgetfulness.”

Zhongli smiles sheepishly, which is probably more endearing than it has any right to be. “Thank you, Childe. I will be back in a minute.”

As soon as he disappears around the corner to talk to Chef Mao, Childe exhales, lifting a hand to rub his nose. It’s a bad idea. Suddenly the tickle from before is back, and he’s snapping forward with barely any warning, his eyes squeezing shut.

“hHIH’NGDt! hH!..HIHh’GKtt! hhH....”

Stifling isn’t very relieving at all. If anything, it seems to make him more congested. He casts a quick, desperate glance towards the restaurant. It’s still loud outside, the marketplace as raucous at night as it is at day. Surely Zhongli won’t notice if he—

“hIIH…. hIIH’ISChH-u!” Well, it’s not like he has much control over it now. “hHh... hiIH’IZCHhew!” He gasps again, ducking lower to muffle the sneeze in the crook of his arm. “hIIh’IISCHEEW!”

They’re forceful in a way that suggests that this is going to be a really awful cold, but it’s relieving to succumb to the urge at last. He sighs, sniffling hard, and lowers his arm. Zhongli is still ordering, it seems. Childe is suddenly grateful that he’d chosen this moment to step away.

His eyes are watering a little, so he blinks quickly. Finally, Zhongli comes back to sit down across from him.

“That was fast,” Childe says, wincing a little at how congested his voice sounds. “I hope you gave him a tip?”

"Of course," Zhongli says, sliding back the pouch of mora.

They fall back into conversation easily enough after that. It’s only when Zhongli goes quiet that Childe snaps out of his reverie.

“You have been quiet,” Zhongli remarks. “Is something on your mind?”

Childe blinks at him. “Ah. Sorry,” he says, muffling a cough. “I’m still listening. I can talk more if you want me to.”

“No,” Zhongli says. “There’s no need. I was only wondering if it would be better if I refrained from speaking so much.”

Childe frowns. Zhongli has the wrong idea—Childe likes listening to him—but he can’t help but wonder if he’s worse company than usual. “I like listening to you,” Childe insists. “If… it’s okay. I just… I’ve talked a lot today, so...” He looks away, feeling his face grow hot at the admission. “I think I’m, uh, losing my voice, or something.”

Zhongli frowns at him. “Will you have recruits to train tomorrow?”

He tries to recall his schedule for the week. “Don’t think so. Tomorrow’s errands will… hiH!...’NGDshH! be more straightforward. I—” he coughs again. “I hope.”

“That is a relief,” Zhongli says. “Regardless, you should save your voice. Your assurance that you are still interested is enough.”

I’m always interested, Childe thinks, as Zhongli launches back into another story about Liyuen history. His voice is smooth and low and, in every capacity, as comforting as always. Childe falls into it entirely.

It’s only when the food arrives that he finds himself staring down at a bowl of still-steaming soup.

It’s not something he’s had before. He takes an experimental sip. The warmth is immediately comforting; it's exactly the sort of warmth he's been craving all day. He doesn’t have much of an appetite, and he can barely taste it through his congestion, but what he can discern of the flavor is...

“This is delicious, xiansheng,” he says, letting his eyes fall shut in his indulgence. “What is it?”

“Bamboo shoot soup,” Zhongli answers simply. “It should be a good remedy for your cold.”

Childe nearly drops his spoon.

He blinks, surprised. “What?”

Zhongli stares back at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “Your cold,” he repeats. “You have been showing symptoms of it all evening. It is not unlikely that you have a fever as well, if the way you have been shivering is any indication. Were you not aware that you were ill?”

Childe buries his face in one hand. “I knew! Just... was it so obvious?”

“Did you intend to keep it a secret?”

“Not exactly, but…” he sighs. “I didn’t want to cancel our plans over something so trivial. You had already waited so long for me, so it wouldn’t have been fair if I’d just… used it as an excuse to - hIHh!”

Childe feels his breath wavering. He shuts his eyes in desperation, ducking away from the table. This is really the worst timing.

“hIihh… hIIH’NDGxt! snf… s-sorry, I... hIIH’ISSHHEEw!”

He flushes as another shiver racks his frame. It’s… embarrassing, to say the least, to sneeze so openly right in front of someone he admires.

“Bless you,” Zhongli says. When Childe looks up at him, he looks sad, his shoulders hunching as he stares down at his own food. “Childe, are you only here because you felt obligated to uphold your end of an agreement?” His voice is soft, as always. He doesn’t sound accusatory—only uncertain, but somehow, that makes it worse. “I would not have thought any less of you if you had been honest with me.”

“That’s not it,” Childe says, and fuck, he wants to say anything just to get that hurt expression off of Zhongli’s face. “I came because I wanted to see you.” He blinks past sudden exhaustion. Suddenly his breath catches wrong and he’s coughing harshly, hurrying to press his forearm to his face as his shoulders shudder with the effort.

“I… realize I might not be great company right now, though,” he admits, wincing. His voice is really shot.

Maybe it would have been better had he been less selfish. Maybe he should have cancelled their meeting the moment he’d started feeling bad. Or maybe he should get rid of his strange over-reliance on the funeral consultant in the first place.

Zhongli reaches for his hand. Childe wants to pull it away, on instinct, but Zhongli’s grasp is firm and strangely, hopelessly grounding.

“You are always good company,” Zhongli says sternly, with as much conviction as he has when he recites history or recalls fact. “If you wanted to see me, you could have just asked. For you, I would have said yes.”

“You indulge me,” Childe accuses him, sniffling. Zhongli smiles, as if he’s taken it as a compliment.

“Perhaps. Will you let me walk you back home after we finish our meal?”

Childe wants to protest. They had a walk planned, after all, but he’s exhausted, and the trip back to the inn he’s staying in suddenly seems much less arduous when he considers he could be walking back with Zhongli.

“Zhongli, you are proving my point,” he says, cracking a smile. “...If you don’t mind, though, I would love that.”

He’s really going to miss Liyue when he leaves.

#sneeze fic #snzfic #sneeze kink #gen/shin impact #this was hard to write #;;#i am at the edge of my wits writing childe's internal monologue #i'm very soft for these two so i can only hope i didn't #fk up their characterization or anything #my fic

64 notes · View notes

weasleydream · 4 years

Text

The day the world stopped breathing

Hi guys, how are you all? I’m so sorry it took so long, but this is my participation to @masterofthedarkness writing challenge! Sorry for being so late hun, but once again congrats!!!!

The prompts were “I will protect you with my life.” and “The world stopped breathing that night, he’s/she’s dead because of me.”

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog, and enjoy!

Masterlist

(gif not mine)

Y/F/C = your fav colour

“Harry James Potter, I swear to Merlin you’re not going to leave me in the dark!”

Since the end of the school year a month ago, Harry had been acting strange with me. Always avoiding my gaze, avoiding questions, avoiding being alone with me… As much as I was hurt - because who wouldn’t feel so bad when the boy you love ignores you? - I knew something was wrong and it was terrifying me. When asking Ron and Hermione,the only answers I had were stupid excuses preceded by embarrassed glances.

But now, with the preparation of the wedding and just all that happened around us, I felt Harry drifting off more than he had ever done before and that was truly scaring me.

“Y/N, listen, I just can’t tell you, okay?” His tone was almost pleading, as if he wanted me to stop arguing because it was paining him or something like this.

“But why?” No matter how hated was this tone for me when it came from his mouth, this time I wouldn’t let go of him before knowing what he was preparing. “Harry, I would do anything for you, you know that, right? When the time comes - and Merlin knows it’s closer than ever - I will protect you with my life. Might as well know why, don’t you think?”

And as usual at this point of the conversation, the anger came.

“I don’t need you to protect me!” screamed Harry. “All I want is you to be safe, and you certainly won’t be if you come with us!”

“I don’t need you to protect me either.” I hissed, kinda pissed off to see that after all I had gone through with him, Ron and Hermione, he still didn’t believe I was strong enough to help him. “And Ron, and Hermione, don’t you want them safe too? Harry, whether you like it or not, I’m coming with you. You tell me where you’re going to go, what you’re going to do, or I discover it by myself. Just keep in mind it might be too late.”

And I felt my heart shattering a bit more when Harry gave me his back without a word and left the living-room.

From this point, I knew there was no way him, Hermione or Ron would tell me anything. I decided I would always keep at least one of them in my sight and that I would stay ready to follow them at any moment. My worries were slowly consuming me, and I found it harder and harder to sleep at night. Instead, when I was lying in my bed during the darkest hours of the night, the worst images invaded my mind, all of them awful guessings of what Harry would do during the second he would leave. The only way I had found to ease my mind was to think that he wouldn’t leave before the wedding, and that it let me a few days to find a way to convince him.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Third POV

“I hate having to keep her far from me.” muttered Harry, his hands playing with his old Gryffindor scarf, the one Y/N had given him back a week ago after having borrowed it for almost a year.

It was late at night, but he was unable to sleep. If he had known Y/N wasn’t sleeping either, he would have probably gone to her by now. However, he was still in Ron’s room, the latter sitting next to him and lost in his own thoughts.

“I know mate, trust me I don’t like it either. But you don’t want anything happening to her, and her going back to Hogwarts with Ginny is certainly the safest thing she can do right now.” replied Ron, patting absent-mindedly his friend’s shoulder.

In fact, he didn’t fully understand why Harry refused to let Y/N come with them. He wasn’t oblivious enough not to realize he was in love with her, but in Ron’s opinion, the best way to make sure someone was safe was to stay with them.

“I just hope she’ll understand.” Harry’s voice didn’t contain this lassitude he had felt during the last months anymore, but it was replaced with sadness and it wasn’t better. “She’s furious, she doesn’t understand she’s too important for me. I mean, if Hermione and you had let me the choice-”

“Which we didn’t do.”

“-I would have left on my own. This is too dangerous.” said Harry, glancing at Ron who was looking at him with a quite unusually extremely serious expression.

“You’re the boss, mate. Just know that if I were you, I would do anything for Y/N to stay next to me.”

“Yeah, you know what it feels like, don’t you?”

Ron’s ears became red, along with his cheeks that seemed to be burning. Harry smirked, thinking for a second that when all would be over, his friends and him could make the best double dates ever.

Harry didn’t want to do this this way. Leaving Y/N without warning her, not saying her goodbye whereas he was leaving for his most dangerous adventure, not telling her how he felt about her. He had planned to talk to her, to persuade her to stay behind, he wanted to tell her how he loved her and how he needed her safe, but the Death Eaters that suddenly intruded the wedding decided otherwise.

As the guests were running in all directions, most of them screaming and even forgetting how to use their wands, as the members of the Order were trying to protect them, Harry found Ron and Hermione and grabbed their hands. He threw one last glance at Y/N, who was fighting with all her capacities against a Death Eater. He fought the urge to join her, almost screaming in his own head that it was better like this and that she would eventually forgive him.

“Harry?”

Hermione’s voice came in his ears through the screams and the noises of destruction. It was the most painful thing to do, way more terrible than any Cruciatus spell, but Harry nodded and the world around him disappeared. During the following months, an image would stay engraved in his mind, and a question would haunt his mind. Never would he forget the sight of Y/N bathed in a green light, her eyes meeting his through the distance at the very moment he was disappearing. Never would he stop wondering if this green flash of light he had seen had hit her or if by the biggest miracle she was still alive.

“Family safe, do nor reply, we are being watched.”

The weasel disappeared in the darkness that surrounded Harry, Ron and Hermione who were now in Grimmauld Place. The last echoes of Arthur’s voice were still resonating in their ears as Ron dropped onto the sofa, Hermione immediately at his side and whispering words of comfort. However, none of them seemed to have caught the ounce of pain Harry had heard, and none of them never imagined Arthur could have lied. But Harry couldn’t make the image of Y/N disappear, nor could he stop fearing maybe she wasn’t as safe as Arthur had said.

“Harry, you don’t have to worry about her, she is okay.” said Hermione who left Ron’s side to gain his. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Y/N is okay, and she’s with Ron’s family. She’ll be safe with them.”

“They’ll protect her.” added Ron. “She’s as much a part of the family as you and Hermione are.”

The reassuring words of his friends were nothing for Harry, nothing except poor attempts to persuade him of something that seemed unreal for him, and he would have been grateful if only he wasn’t that worried, and if his scar wasn’t that painful.

“Bathroom.” he muttered suddenly, before leaving and succumbing to the terrible rage of Lord Voldemort.

Back at the Burrow, where the Weasleys were trying to process what had just happened, almost all eyes were turned toward the window through which the silver weasel had left to find Harry, Ron and Hermione. No one said anything, the heavy silence being only disturbed by light sobs coming from Fleur’s mouth. Ginny was next to her, slowly stroking her back, and next to Ginny were Fred and George with their eyes lost in the emptiness. Arthur was still standing in the middle of the living-room, his arm firmly wrapped around Molly’s shoulders.

“She was just a child.” whispered Bill before getting up from his kneeled position next to the couch. “Dad, don’t you think Harry deserves to know?”

“It would put them in danger.” muttered Arthur. “The time will come, but for now they need to accomplish their mission.”

His eyes followed Molly’s and fell on Y/N’s body, pale and lifeless on the couch.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

From inside, Bill was watching Harry digging furiously, slowly sinking in the sand to make by himself a last house for the elf that had saved him.

“How can we tell him?” he muttered and Fleur, who was fussing over Hermione, stopped for a second. She clenched her hands in fists before looking away from Hermione’s gaze.

“Tell him what?” asked Ron, taking a step toward his brother and following his eyes.

Only silence answered him, and he exchanged a glance with Hermione. Both were fearing the same thing, this very same obsession Harry had had since the second they had left the wedding.

“Bill… Where is Y/N?” Ron finally asked.

Bill’s shoulders tensed, Fleur sniffled, and no word was needed. Hermione opened her mouth in shock, barely containing a scream by putting her hands on it, and Ron froze.

“How the hell did that happen?” he whispered, not trusting enough his voice to dare speak louder.

He had to stay strong for Hermione, who was already so weak and broken, and soon he would have to be strong for Harry too, because he would be the one telling his best friend the girl he loved was dead.

“At the wedding. She was surrounded by too many Death Eaters and…”

Bill never finished his sentence, and Ron shut his eyes, fighting the image of Y/N, a girl he had been friend with since his first year at Hogwarts, dead on the floor. A soft hand brushed against his arm and without even opening his eyes, he engulfed Hermione in his arms. She was crying, her tears were soaking Ron’s shirt and her shoulders were shaking.

“I don’t understand…” he breathed. “Dad said our family was safe. Why? Bill, why did he lie to us?”

“He didn’t want you to put yourself in danger. You couldn’t take any risk, Ron.”

“And Christmas? When I came here, you told me everything was fine!”

Ron ignored Hermione’s whispers begging him to calm down. He was infuriated, not because his family had lied to him but because Harry still had hope for Y/N. He had been scared for her, of course he had been, so many times he had imagined the worst, but he still thought he would have another chance to see the girl he loved. And now, after having lost Dobby, after having lost Sirius and Dumbledore, he would have to face the loss of Y/N.

“I know, Ron, I’m sorry. Trust me, I am!” exclaimed Bill. “I didn’t want to lie to you, but I had to. I had to.” he repeated with a small voice before looking back at Harry.

After having helped Hermione to sit back on the couch, Ron left the cottage without a word and, followed by Dean who had patted his shoulder, he joined Harry. As they were digging, Ron was thinking about the best way to tell Harry she was dead.

“Is there even a good way to announce something like that?” he muttered underneath his breath.

Dean glanced at him but said nothing, and Harry didn’t even hear him. He was focused on his task, and after having asked how Hermione was, he had stayed perfectly silent. He didn’t even look up when the others arrived, in fact only Luna’s voice made him react. They prepared Dobby, offering him last presents before burying him.

Bill and Fleur left first, the latter helping Hermione who was still weak. Dean and Luna left a few seconds later, holding hands and looking one last time at the grave. Only Ron stayed, trying to gather enough courage to speak up. Harry was sitting on the floor just in front of the mound. Ron sat next to him and surrounded his knees with his arms. He sighed once, twice, shifted and sighed again. Harry was completely oblivious to his presence, his gaze was lost in the emptiness, fixing a point just above the grave. Ron sighed once more and dropped a few words with a low voice.

“Y/N has been killed. At the wedding. I’m sorry, Harry.”

If there was a part of his heart that was still complete, Harry felt it break as soon as Ron spoke up. This little part of himself which had always seemed warmer than the others, this tiny part that seemed to grow up so much whenever Y/N was next to him, this part of his heart was now in a million of pieces as small as the grains of soil underneath his body. He didn’t say anything, his throat was too tied to let any word out. But he was now blinded by his tears, tears that were rolling down his cheeks like they had never done before. Ron put his hand on his shoulder but Harry didn’t react, silently addressing Y/N useless apologies, useless because nothing would ever bring her back. She was dead, dead because he had left her, because he had been too selfish to take his responsibility, dead because Death Eaters had barged in during the wedding. All of this was because of him. He had lost his parents, he had lost Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, Dobby and now Y/N.

“Harry, I know what you’re thinking. This is-”

“It’s my fault. I know it. I should have protected her.” whispered Harry, his heart hurting a bit more at the thought that he had given up on her.

“No, Harry, no! You couldn’t know what would happen, none of us could! Listen, I know-” Ron didn’t know if he would be able to control his voice longer, his own grief and the pain of seeing his best friend in such a state of sorrow threatening to make him break down too.

“You don’t know, Ron!” Harry exploded, looking up to his friend with the most broken expression that had ever been seen on his face. “You are wrong, I could have killed her and it would have been the same! The world stopped breathing that night, she’s dead because of me! Because of me Ron! She said she would protect me with her life, and I said she couldn’t do that- why did she protect me? Ron, why did she protect me? Y/N shouldn’t be dead, she had so much more to live! Why?”

And Harry’s voice broke under the weight of his guilt, and he sobbed loudly without caring a second about what Ron would think. Because he knew that his friend would have felt the same if he had been in his shoes, because the pain was so strong he just couldn’t ignore it. Because Y/N had been so important to him, she would always be so important, he would always love her so much, that the least he could do for her was to cry and scream under the stars that maybe, just maybe, would tell her how much Harry was sorry.

#vals300challenge #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x yn

156 notes · View notes

tossawary · 3 years

Text

Chapter 25: “Home Sweet Home” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

Anyway, Shang Qinghua makes himself so fucking sincerely annoying that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators can’t figure out how to politely tell him to fuck off fast enough. Shang Qinghua makes outlandish assumptions about how many thieves there are (at least a dozen, he’s sure, probably twice that) and what methods they might be using (special invisibility talismans, he suspects); Shang Qinghua repeatedly apologizes for being too busy with important things for Cultivator O.B.B. at the last Immortal Alliance Conference, then tries to commiserate with the man about having to get important things done without getting any respect for it; Shang Qinghua also anxiously wonders if they should all go to Zhao Hua Temple Sect to report what happened here, since there’s a troublesome demon and also some sneaky rogue cultivator thieves on the loose out here! He gets turned down immediately, but assures everyone that he’ll at least let Yue Qingyuan know everything that happened here right away!

Liu Qingge pretty much just stands there scowling silently the entire time - he’s no Shen Qingqiu for sheer menacing "I can and I will ruin your entire life" glares, but he’s still pretty intimidating. He does a great job! No notes!

Shang Qinghua nearly pats himself on the back as he and Liu Qingge leave less than an hour after he arrives. “Holy shit, I’m good,” he thinks, a little giddy with the successful extraction. “That’s a skill that good ol’ Liu-Shidi will never have!”

AN: Of course this has a high chance of backfiring. Is Shang Qinghua going to weave webs of lies anyway? Of course.

Love the fact that Shang Qinghua can shamelessly act like a total pushover, while actually manipulating someone so that he gets the results he wanted. Some snobby sect leader walks into a negotiation room, prepared to use SQH as a doormat, and Shang Qinghua is probably internally like, “Bro, me and my jelly spine welcome you to hell.”

He gives them the rundown on what happened, but, to his complete lack of surprise, that doesn’t seem to satisfy interrogators like his little sister-in-law and his fellow transmigrator. They have so many questions! And Shang Qinghua doesn’t have enough answers for them!

No, he doesn’t know what Huan Hua Palace Sect knows or thinks they know. No, he doesn’t know how they knew about that place. No, he doesn’t know whether the monster was just a local opportunist preying on distracted cultivators or something more sinister. No, he’s not experimenting with the creepy special item or discussing it at length here. No, Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber are not allowed to poke at the creepy special item!

Why the fuck would he ever let them do that?!

All Shang Qinghua knows is that Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber should eat their vegetables and then go to bed! Because they all have a long journey back to the sect in the morning! And also that words cannot describe how painfully old he feels as soon as he says this.

AN: I’ve been thinking about a Demon Trio fanfic in which Mobei-Jun finds himself in a similar position with Luo Binghe and Sha Hualing.

Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are, like, bare minimum twice the age of Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan. Like, yes, neither Mobei-Jun nor Shang Qinghua are old old by the standard of the PIDW world. Yes, MBJ and SQH are stunted as all get out. But the fact that they have bare minimum 2x the life experience as Bingqiu is, in my opinion, funny as hell and severely underused in fanfiction.

Like, imagine Mobei-Jun unintentionally dadding new demon LBH in SVSSS. Mobei-Jun being like, “Don’t eat the meat from this monster. It makes you hallucinate.” Or being like, “These people aren’t politically important enough to be shown this kind of respect. Look down on them properly and go sleep, or no one will ever respect you again in demon politics.”

MBJ looking at SVSSS LBH and SHL like, “Damn, who raised you?”

Because, like, I love to joke about Mobei-Jun being an oblivious fool, but that’s in regards to human culture. Mobei-Jun operating on demonic culture + his level of arrogance in regards to how he’s handling SQH suggests that MBJ can be politically savvy among demons when he wants to be. Also, the mental picture of MBJ being like, “Eat your weird demon vegetables, there’s nothing wrong with them, you picky half-breed brat,” is extremely funny.

I’ll probably turn this into a separate post.

Shang Qinghua does not miss the man’s unconcealed “oh, great, some of my favorite problem people are back, probably with bad news” expression when they arrive. The man is not at all impressed to hear about the drugged-up Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders or the evil, murderous, madness-inducing plant they fought on their mission, but the Qian Cao Peak Lord is reluctantly, partially placated by the jar of three-eyed skeleton tears Shang Qinghua super thoughtfully brought back for his inspection. Mu Qingfang really likes his research projects!

Shang Qinghua lets himself feel kind of good about this gift - he’s the man who gets things and gets things done - and ignores the Weeper’s Eye whispering in his head, “He has resigned himself to the untimely deaths of everyone he knows.”

(Wow. Oh, Shang Qinghua knows that feeling!)

AN: Mu Qingfang doesn’t think that everyone around him is inevitably going to die, he’s just extremely aware of how dangerous the world is and how reckless cultivators can be. Also, for many years, he was fairly certain that Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu were headed for bad ends.

This felt like a good place to insert some optimism back into the sect in general. Luo Fanli has been cured and is willingly going to visit her sister, Liu Qingge has got a hold on his self-destructive tendencies, Mu Qingfang thinks things are getting better, Shen Qingqiu’s health problems have been essentially fixed, Qijiu might actually work their shit out, Shen Yuan shares his real name with Shang Qinghua, and so on and so forth.

It felt like a good contrast with and buildup towards Luo Binghe’s Skinner mistake (not everything is rosy yet, there are still growing problems), the secret basement, and the encounter with Bing-Ge.

Only to flip that around and then bring some surprise Moshang into things!

“I have now been informed that, after learning that you had returned and, at the very least, completing the duties that were intended to have him reflect on his actions, he has disappeared yet again,” Shen Qingqiu continues. “This second disappearance has set some of the other junior disciples into a renewed panic, which has concerned some of the senior disciples, which was, apparently, cause to alert me.”

“Ah,” Shang Qinghua says.

AN: Shen Jiu should not be in charge of a bunch of children, but it is funny to imagine him going through the same “be a less shit person” adoption process as Shang Qinghua. Like, oh, it would be so easy for him to be cruel about this situation, but fuck you if he’s going to be outdone in the recovery and redemption process by Shang Qinghua of all people.

Shang Qinghua: *grows into a kind of decent person*

Shen Jiu: “Fuck you. That’s not allowed.”

Shen Jiu: “...”

Shen Jiu: “Well, if THAT FUCKER of all people can do it...”

Shang Qinghua doesn’t have to look long or far to find his nephew. He finds the young protagonist sitting despondently on the doorstep of his own Leisure House, sniffling into his sleeve. Peerless Cucumber of all people is sitting beside him and keeping him company.

“Focusing on other people’s lives is easier than looking at his own.”

“-think a drowning man first has to save himself… or else he’s only going to bring down the people he’s trying to save,” Peerless Cucumber is saying.

Binghe nods.

AN: Going by, like, the everything of SVSSS, Shen Yuan really is the asshole going, “I’ll die before I look inwards to recognize and deal with my own emotions.” Also, going, “Yes, I’m a hypocrite who won’t take my own advice. And what about it?” What a repressed nerd.

Shang Qinghua clears his throat to get their attention. Both kids (well, teenager and young adult, but still... kids) look up and then stand up quickly. Luo Binghe takes a forgetful step forward, before he wobbles into an appropriate respectful bow instead.

“Shang-Shishu!”

“How dearly this boy is loved!” the Weeper’s Eye declares, in its soft way inside Shang Qinghua’s head. “More than life itself! More than death itself!”

“Ah, never mind all that,” Shang Qinghua says, and steps forward to wrap his nephew in a quick hug instead, keeping the creepy talking eye oriented away from his nephew. “You’re a little too late to talk to me about your mission before your shizun did.”

Binghe, who was just relaxing into the unexpected hug, freezes.

Shang Qinghua knowingly pats the poor young protagonist on the back.

“Oh, shit” is right!

AN: Uncle Shang really is adorable. Still kind of knocks me for a loop writing it, though, given that the SVSSS SQH and LBH relationship is... nothing like this whatsoever. Look upon the field of SQH and LBH content and see that it is relatively barren except for the stubborn motherfuckers with excellent taste in character exploration.

“Ahhh, well, I’ll be there too for this potential family reunion, bro,” Shang Qinghua assures him. “Maybe we can finally get to the bottom of where this ‘Shen Yuan’ name came from.”

Peerless Cucumber makes a strange expression.

“What?”

“...It’s my name.”

“What?” Shang Qinghua repeats.

“It’s my name,” Peerless Cucumber says again, quietly. “It’s my real name.”

“Oh.”

“Huh,” Shang Qinghua thinks, having been operating on the assumption that the System made the name up for its mysterious backstory. Well, that gives new dimensions to Peerless Cucumber’s criticism of the scum villain!

“You can use it,” Peerless Cucumber says, with an air of determined nonchalance. “Everyone else is doing it.”

“Ah, alright. Thanks.”

AN: This is probably the part where I would have made Shang Qinghua reveal his original name in turn... IF HE HAD ONE. It drives me... kind of wild that we get the Airplane Extras and we STILL don’t get 1) Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky’s original name, and 2) MOBEI-JUN’s name.

Which actually makes things a little more interesting here, in my opinion, even though not having those names gets a little frustrating in terms of fanfiction writing. With Mobei-Jun, you get to explore the fucked up possibilities of him not having a name outside of his identity as the future Northern King. With Shang Qinghua, you get to explore him being a squirrelly little fuck who refuses to let anyone into his life.

So, because we don’t have Airplane’s name, we actually get this mildly interesting dynamic in which Shang Qinghua doesn’t even really think to reveal it to Shen Yuan. We don’t see this part, but Shen Yuan is actually a little miffed by this degree of secrecy, which is going to come up later. (Shen Yuan doesn’t like the fact that Shang Qinghua has as much power over him as he does.)

I personally do not hold the headcanon that Airplane’s name was “Shang Qinghua”. It’s a little too on the nose for me. At that point, the only reaction to transmigrating into SQH kind of has to be, “Ah, well, I was asking for that!” Maybe Airplane projected his worst qualities onto Shang Qinghua, but I don’t think he went so far as to give the character his own name.

Airplane’s main identity when he died appears to have been Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky, and we know that he wasn’t particularly close to his divorced parents and any step- or half-siblings. So, the only names that are really relevant post-transmigration are “Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky” and “Shang Qinghua”. By the time that SY gets here, he’s firmly entrenched in those identities, and his original name is completely irrelevant. I could honestly believe that Airplane just doesn’t think it matters anymore.

Shang Qinghua’s nephew, in the way of a true young protagonist or fucking cannon fodder, got the bright fucking idea to slip away to speak with the concubine called Butterfly privately.

“I thought: what if she didn’t want to speak in front of that lecherous old man? What if she wanted to get away from him?” Binghe confesses.

“She was the demon,” Shang Qinghua guesses.

Binghe nods, voice breaking. “It was… I was really, really stupid, Uncle.”

“Well, at least you know that,” Shang Qinghua sighs, and pats his sniffly nephew on the back again.

Oh, he can see why Shen Qingqiu was pissed the fuck off now. Shang Qinghua kind of wants to start yelling! Or maybe just screaming, coherently or otherwise!

Except yelling isn’t going to help much right now.

Shang Qinghua listens as Luo Binghe recounts being captured by the demon and then waking up bound by Immortal Binding Cables - of being so terrified that he could barely breathe with it. His only hope was Ning Yingying and Ming Fan tattling on his disappearance and a senior disciple tracking him down on time. The skinner demon apparently nearly killed Binghe, crooning over his young and beautiful skin, except a flash of warm light intervened and dropped an unstable part of the ceiling in on them before they could hurt the captured protagonist.

“Fu-Shijie and Shizun arrived after that and k-killed it,” Binghe says. “Uncle, it was all stupid luck! Shizun said I should have been dead and that, between my efforts and the demon’s, he had no idea how I wasn't! And he was right! It was so close! If the ceiling hadn’t fallen in like that-! Fu-Shijie suggested the ropes might be faulty and it could have been an unconscious use of spiritual energy, but I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me!”

It sounds like the System to Shang Qinghua, intervening again at a crucial moment to prevent the premature death of the protagonist. Just thinking about how close his nephew came to dying without him knowing is nearly enough to inspire a cold sweat! Shang Qinghua can’t speak about the System, so all he can really do is keep hugging! Keep holding on for dear life and saying soothing nothings to his crying nephew!

AN: I wanted to include the Skinner mission, but I didn’t want to redo it onscreen because that’s been done in many fanfictions before and I felt that there was really no good reason for Shang Qinghua to be a part of it. The reason I wanted to include it is to show how the plot is off the track of the SVSSS (and PIDW) stories, with the changed LBH and the changed Original SQQ.

LBH wants to be a hero, but he’s not there yet.

“...Don’t put yourself above him… or below him. Tell him what you want and listen to what he wants, and don’t be surprised if things don’t change all at once,” Shang Qinghua advises and, at Yue Qingyuan’s look, quickly raises his hands. “Ahhh, not my business, I know! Not my business! I just… I hope it works out! I hope you two get something better out of this mess! Aha, make the sect meetings a little less awkward and… things.”

“He has never known what better looks like. He will always be Yue Qi, the slave boy. No matter what he does.”

“...Thank you,” Yue Qingyuan says finally, thoughtfully. “I appreciate your… restraint in this matter… in recent months.”

Aha, yikes.

AN: I know that some people wanted more stomping on Yue Qingyuan, but... like... this man is as or nearly as traumatized as Shen Qingqiu. His childhood fucking sucked. He broke his own soul trying to save Shen Jiu and failed. He made some shit decisions where Shen Qingqiu was concerned, but the logic and trauma he’s operating on are pretty obvious. He was trying.

Part of the theme around the Qijiu and Moshang arcs has also been “an eye for an eye”. Like, are you guys really going to keep on not communicating with each other and then fucking up and then taking chunks out of each other? How many misunderstandings and upset over misunderstandings are you going to throw at each other? Where do you put your foot down and say, “I don’t want to live like this forever. We can be better than this. I want better than this.”

Like, it can’t just be hurting each other back and forth (this applies to Qijiu more than Moshang, in which MBJ definitely carries the weight of this fuck-up). It can’t just be privately nursing hurt feelings forever. The options here are “fix it” or “live like this forever”. Fixing it won’t happen immediately, but the other option fucking sucks, so every little step helps.

So Shang Qinghua here is just like, “Bro, I’m tired. My anger has cooled a lot. I just want all our lives to suck less. I hope things work out for you.”

#tossawary svsss #tossawary commentary #pride is not the word

51 notes · View notes

anythingbutmar · 4 years

Text

Mistake

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: After you turned 18, Diego and you pretty much distanced from the other members of the academy, so when you all meet for Reginald’s funeral you have some explaining to do.

A/N: I kinda love this concept but I changed a few details of this request so the reader is not raised as a sibling and her relationship with the others is in no way familial. I missed writing, specially for Diego, so thanks anon! This is quite long too, so sorry about that. I had a lot of fun too, so let me know if you’d like me to make this into a series, cause I might do it.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of homelessness, but overall just fluff and a bit of angst.

You liked to say that the life you made by yourself happened because of a simple mistake, because you had come across the Umbrella Academy on a very particular way.

You could say you had a decent upbringing, your mother wasn’t abusive but she was pretty much the definition of overprotective, and as a child you were never told that it was because a man had literally tried to buy you on the day you were born, in fact, you didn’t know anything about him or the children he managed to adopt because your mother and grandparents wouldn’t let you get anywhere near any piece of information of whatever existed outside your little hometown.

They told you they were doing it because your father had left you when you were just a baby and they wanted to protect you from the dangers of foreign men, of course you thought that you were born from a normal pregnancy, and you believed everything, that and the fact that you could control any element to your will, which they said was wrong and kept hidden. You were homeschooled, and you could only socialize with the kids from your neighborhood which was good, but it wasn’t enough, and we all now overprotectiveness can really mess with someone’s mind.

And so, even though you went along with it for many years, when one of your only friends suggested you both snuck out for a party on the big city for your sixteenth birthday you couldn’t say no, and that was the mistake, if it is possible to call it like that.

On the best Rapunzel style you went out your bedroom window, got on a bus and drank so much alcohol you completely passed out on a strangers lap and woke up on an unknown bed with a beautiful woman smiling down at you. Well, maybe that wasn’t Rapunzel’s style, but it sure felt like it at first.

The next series of events happened so fast it almost felt like a dream. You met a handful of strange children, one of which you later remembered had brought you there while being just as drunk as you were, his name was Klaus, and he later became the best friend you ever had; then you had the most overwhelming conversation of your life, in which an incredibly mean old man explained how you were actually born and made you understand just how different and important you were, but not in the wholesome way.

About an hour later your mother stormed through the academy looking for you, but one of the girls whispered something in her ear on her dad’s command which changed your mom’s entire attitude, with her allowing you to stay as if it was a boarding school, or so she told you, but she only visited once every few months and she didn’t seem as caring as before. According to Allison, that was in no way her fault, and you believed her, because at the end of the day you trusted your newfound friends much more than the woman that lied to you your entire life.

And so, you learnt to control your ability like never before, while also enduring Reginald’s cruel treatment, but it didn’t matter at all, because in the midst of everything you found Diego, and with him came all the things you never experienced before. He brought you happiness, love, trust and overall, lust for life.

Two years later you were living your best teenage secret romance. You snuck out at nights to visit all the parts from the city that he wanted you to meet, and you shared tiny kisses whenever Reginald and the kids weren’t watching. But Diego left, just like he had planned since he was a kid, and you weren’t brave enough to follow him. It wasn’t until his other siblings started leaving too that you realized that no matter how hard it was to be outside on your own, holding on to life with him was better than anything else. It was actually thanks to Allison, the smart girl had noticed you two holding hands under the table and knew just how heartbroken you were without him. “Chase him, Y/N, you won’t have this opportunity ever again.” She said right before she left, and she was absolutely right.

It took you less than a week to find him on a motel, bruised as ever and with barely enough money to pay for another night, and in between hugs, kisses and forbidden touches you promised him that you’d both get out of there. He told you he had been on that place for three weeks and a half, but the first few days after leaving the academy he had to sleep on a park bench until he gathered enough money by playing with his knifes to amuse people on the street. It had been hard, but now that you were together everything was so much better.

After many years living in the back room of a rusty gym, both of you taking turns in wiping it’s floors while also trying to study and save people at nights, because the one thing you learned from Reginald was that you loved helping people, and Diego’s vigilantism was just as appealing to you as it was to him. Diego was accepted into the police force and you finished your studies on a cheap school, which allowed you both to get a job you liked, and when you were finally able to buy a house for yourselves Diego proposed.

“Y/N, before you arrived my life was a nightmare, and all I ever wanted was to stay as far away from that place as it was possible, and everything that reminded me of it I planned on cutting from my life, but you arrived with your sweet smile, your shy eyes and those damn legs, and you completely switched my view of the world because I knew right there that I would love you forever, and I do. I love to see you in your weird ass robe, making potions-”

“I’m a chemist babe, not a witch.” You corrected him laughing.

“Let me finish Y/N!” He laughed with you. “I love how you treated me and my siblings, and I love how you helped mom, and god! I love how you used to beat bad guys with fucking wind on our nights out! I love everything about you sweetheart, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” By then you were both crying, and of course you said yes, how could you not?

Cut to ten years later and the day you had silently both dreaded and hoped for came. Reginald Hargreeves was dead, and you couldn’t even tell if you were sad about it, after all, the man had saved you from Mother Gothel, as Diego and you started calling her after watching Tangled with your daughters, but he saved you at what cost? You now had quite a few burn scars in your body from his dangerous training, you loved each one of them because they reminded you just how powerful you were, but still, no teenager should have to go through that.

And you couldn’t even get started on Diego. You wondered how and when he would take the news. He was out on his monthly vigilante night, which was kind of a gift you gave to each other, you were allowed to leave for the night once every month on different days because now that you had kids you could no longer risk your life everyday like you used to before. The kids, oh boy, what were you gonna do with your beloved girls? You weren’t sure if taking them to the funeral with you was the right decision, you wanted to shelter them from death and all the evil things in the world, but then again, you weren’t your mother, and you had no one to leave them with.

Just as you were thinking about maybe even staying, your husband entered your home, and he looked destroyed. It was one in the morning and you had been waiting for him while thinking of Reginald, and clearly he had been thinking about the same thing. You quickly stood up and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“He’s d-dead.” He stuttered on your shoulder. He didn’t even sound sad, he just seemed shocked.

“Shh, I know baby, I know.” You stood there for a while, just comforting each other in the middle of your kitchen before going to bed, you needed to rest for the next day because you knew it would be anything but ordinary.

And in the blink of an eye you were ringing the bell of the academy, each of your girls holding their father’s hand, the three of them standing behind you in your small, useless effort to protect them.

Grace opened up, and you couldn’t be happier to see her. You gave her a small hug and then gave Diego some space so he could properly say hi to his beloved mother. He introduced Luna and Amber and she was delighted to see Diego in a stable, loving family, she just seemed a bit off, but you’d talk to Diego about that later.

And then... Lord help you, you entered the livingroom and ran headfirst into Klaus who instantly hugged you, twirling you around and making you laugh as you both landed on the floor.

“Y/N, love! How have you been?” He sat up, looking at the doorframe, as he seemed to notice the two pair of eyes that stared in curiosity. “Oh I see you’ve gotten busy! Hello my little munchkins, I’m your uncle Klaus!”

“Wait Y/N/N, you’re with Diego now?” Luther asked from the other side of the room. Despite his rivalry with your now husband, you were quite close to him during your small time on the academy.

“Honestly Luther, I love you, but you can be quite oblivious sometimes.” You stood up with his help and hugged him tightly, getting a comforting feeling from his embrace.

“I’m here too, you know, your brother, Diego?” He finally entered, still holding your daughters’s hands and analizing the scene.

“It’s not our fault that you can’t say hi to anybody.” Allison came from behind him, scaring him, which made the girls laughing.

“Hi Allison.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes at his sister.

“I always knew you liked keeping your secrets but this two are way too big to hide” Se kneeled down to pinch Luna’s cheek, who smiled bashfully at her aunt.

Amber, your youngest, ran towards you and pulled your hand. You kneeled to her height as she whispered in your ear. “Mommy, I want to meet uncle Spaceboy.” You smiled softly at her sweetness, carrying her towards him. She instantly jumped in his arms, which took both Luther and you by surprise, she wasn’t the most sociable girl after all, but you kinda understood, his big frame and natural akwardness made him look quite huggable.

“Damn bro, you’ve gotten big.” Diego joined you, leaving Allison to play with Luna, who was now excited to know that she had a cousin her age, and you left before the two started bickering, but much to your surprise, the presence of your daughter seemed to retain them from fighting like they used to. Maybe bringing them was a good idea after all.

“Well, this is is quite the frame” Pogo entered the room with Vanya right behind him. You all waved at them, tired already of all the hugs already.

“Hi everyone.” Vanya entered uncomfortably, allowing Allison to hug her and having a small talk.

You turned to Diego and looked at him, a warning in your eyes. You knew your husband all to well, and you could see how much the book had hurted him, but you weren’t going to let him start a fight in the middle of a family meeting.

But of course, he wouldn’t listen to you.

“Why did you do it?” He started walking towards her as you mentally facepalmed. This wasn’t going to end well.

“Really, Diego? This isn’t the right time.” Allison scolded him, standing between him and her only sister.

“Then when is it, Allison? The next time we see each other? Should we wait another twelve years?” Allison just scoffed and stormed out of the room, Luther following after her, Vanya left silently, looking hurt, and Klaus snuck out in the heat of the moment, probably looking for money.

You sat on the biggest couch in the middle of your daughters, surrounding them with your arms. “That went well.” You stared at Diego, who pocked his tongue at you.

And it was about to get worse.

After having a tiny dance party, thanks to Luther’s incredibly loud turntable, you heard a thunderlike sound and watched as a bright blue light appeared outside. You looked at Diego, knowing what to do from all the years of practice that you had together. Each of you grabbed one of the kids, running outside to meet the others, who surrounded you in a protective manner, protecting their newly met nieces.

There was a portal in front of you, which Klaus tried to close with a fire extinguisher, but you could tell it wouldn’t work, because that wasn’t made of fire, or any other element that you were familiar with, for that matter, and you were an element bending chemist, for christ’s sake.

“What the hell is that babe?” Diego yelled, trying to understand.

“I have no idea, but there’s something coming out of it!” You yelled back, and everyone turned to look at what appeared to be an old man coming out of the portal. And in a flash of blue, a small boy landed at your feet, he looked incredibly similar to the portrait of the lost sibling that hung on top of the fireplace.

“Does anyone else see little number five?” They all nodded at Klaus, who clearly wasn’t sober enough for this, or maybe the poor thing thought that was the ghost of him, and you knew he already had enough with one dead brother following him around.

“What on earth is wrong with this family?” You said, looking at the odd teenager.

Minutes passed as you all stared at Five, who was preparing a goddamned sandwich, in the middle of one of the most confusing moments of your life.

“You’re new.” He simply stated, looking at you.

“Umm yeah, we haven’t had the chance to meet before, I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand, which he didn’t take, the tiny bastard.

“Oh we’ve met. You were the one with the girls, holding his hand.” He pointed at Diego, sandwich in hand.

“I don’t understand, you weren-”

“Look kid, I’m sorry, but I can’t trust you, you need to leave.” Diego was ready to jump at him, but Luther stopped him and you grabbed his arm softly.

“It’s ok honey, I get it.” You whispered and left to look for Grace who was taking care of the girls.

You let out a sigh as you walked by your old room. You had been wanting to scream ever since you got there, but this was your first alone moment in the whole day, and a sigh was just as effective as a scream, it helped.

Then came the funeral, and it was hard. Luther scattered the ashes and you manipulated the wind so they wouldn’t look like a pile of grey shit, which actually, was an accurate depiction of Reginald, but you did it for him and Pogo, it was the right thing to do.

And after a few out of place comments, Diego and Luther started fighting right in front of your daughters, so much for the agreement. Luna and Amber started crying, hiding behind Five, who, much to your surprise, covered them with his body as he slowly took them inside. It was infuriating to see the men fighting in front of you, but you couldn’t help but smile looking at Five.

It was that moment that truly made you feel home, like you really were in family, and it warmed your heart.

-End of maybe part one?-

#i wasn't expecting to go this far #but i did #and i don't regret it #diego hargreeves imagines #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves fluff #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves fanfiction #the umbrella academy fanfiction #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy fluff #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy imagine

132 notes · View notes

adragonhoardingstories · 4 years

Text

Daminette AU (Part 9)

Marinette just hung back with Chloe and watched The Trainwreck happen.

At first Lila had turned on her, tried to ask her about what they were talking about but she simply told her that it was none of their business.

It seemed like some of the more sensible people in their class was having their turn with the shared braincell because they rose up against Rossi and started questioning her on her lies.

That is, until someone interrupted them. "Alright punks, everyone from Paris can shut the hell up, you can solve your issues later. I'm Jason Todd, taking over your tour group and I will not tolerate any lies and slander about my family."

Marinatte blinked at the man she saw and pinched herself. Yep, not a dream.

He was tall and obviously very bulit, was wearing a leather jacket and rocked a while streak in her hair but most importantly, he was very familiar.

How could she have missed this?

The Waynes, of which Tim and Jason were part of was not unfamiliar to her. She had switched with Damain several times when he was with his family.

Though, she reasoned, it was mostly when he was in mask that they switched. When they switched outside of masks, Marinette tended to make the swiftest exist so that they didn't see her eyes. That caused that she had barely seen the other family members of Damian.

Which was also apparently why she hadn't known until then that Jason Todd, Damian's older brother was also her Gotham childhood best friend.

"Jay-jay?" She couldn't help but ask.

Jason's head snapped to her, his hand going to his head and wincing.

He shook his head.

"Do I know you? I feel - I feel like I know you but I can't remember...from where."

It wasn't strange that he didn't recognize her, she had changed a lot since those days but holding his head and that wince certainly was concerning, notwithstanding of the fact that her magic could see death surrounding him.

...so much death...he shouldn't even be alive…

She suddenly felt an inexplicable need to cataclysm a clown.

"It's Marinette." She said hesitantly. "You might remember me better as Netta."

He stared at her for a moment before he broke into a grin and the next thing she knew, she was swept up in a bear hug, her feet not even touching the ground.

"Sunshine! I thought you were dead. You just disappeared one day. Do you know how worried I was? What happened?"

He put her back on the ground and ran a hand through her hair - she had never been so thankful for her new pixie cut.

"Look at you. You're still so tiny, oh my God, I feel the protective instincts kicking in, I need to find the bubble wrap."

Marinette jokingly punched his stomach, both of them completely oblivious to their bewildered audience.

"I could kick your ass back then and I can still kick your ass now. Don't try me."

"I don't doubt it." He put his hands up in surrender. "But seriously, what happened all those years ago?"

"Well 'bout a week before I went missing, there was a murder in Crime Alley, the Stevensons."

"The one who got stabbed like 38 times of something."

"No-no, the one who got shot in the balls."

"Oooh yeah, I remember. That was hilarious." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Well somehow they found out that I was present there around the time of the crimes scene and they picked me. Had to give a statement and all that, except they didn't let me go back. Child services made me end up in Paris. "

"But wait - I was with you that night, how come they didn't come after me?"

"Well they did try to get me to tell them where they could find you but I wasn't gonna rat out my best friend."

"Aww Sunshine." He hugged her again and she laughed. "Enough about me, how did you end up with the Waynes?"

"Well since I didn't have you spotting me, I ended up getting caught by Bruce trying to steal the tires of his car. It was like a week after I last saw you."

She slowly grinned. "You couldn't even last one week without me."

He laughed before picking her up and putting her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Yes, so don't you dare leave me again. Actually just to be sure, I'm going to kidnap you."

She laughed, not having felt this happy for years, and easily slid out of his grip by vaulting over his shoulders.

He grinned, turning to look at her, most probably having expected her actions since she never had liked being manhandled.

"You two know each other?" A very amused voice cut in. She knew that voice. She turned to see one very gleeful Dick Grayson looking at them.

"Know each other?" Jason laughed while she was just there thinking how pissed Damian was going to be that she met everyone all of his brothers before she did him. "Big Wing, we lived on the streets together, she's literally my partner in crime."

She had almost forgotten that the rest of her class was there but apparently Lila had enough of the attention not being on her. They didn't all know English but all of them could at least understand the basics.

"I'm not surprised that a thing like her comes from the streets, after everything that she's done to me, it make sense that she's a criminal."

She saw Jason tense up and reach inside his jacket. Both he and Dick reached out to him. She put a hand on his arm and shook his hand.

"Jason no."

"I won't hurt her, just put the fear of God in her." He hissed.

"Are you out of your mind?" Dick hissed. "B won't let this pass."

She chose another approach. "Come on Jay-jay, we both know you don't need a gun to put the fear of God in her." Marinette whispered.

His eyes were narrowed. "But it's more effective this way."

She smiled teasingly, willing her own aura to seek his and calm him down. "Maybe later, there's too many witnesses right now."

She felt his muscles relax and he gave her a smile. "How did I survive without you?"

"You tell me." She stepped back.

He sent Dick a look. "I'm still going to tell her a few things but I won't take it out."

He looked unsure so she pushed. "He won't." It was a warning to Jason as well and both of the boys nodded.

Dick stepped back to stand next to her while Jason stalked towards the class.

"You two seem close. He wouldn't just listen to anyone like this after all these years."

"Jason's basically my brother." She said. "I thought he'd be one of my soulmates too but our ways parted before it could form."

"Oh." He said, because how else could you respond to something like this?

"But enough about this," she looked around and saw that they were far enough from everyone. Still she lowered her voice before speaking out the next part. "How have you been Nightwing? It's been a while since we talked."

He startled, turning to look at her, and she could tell that he was prepared for a fight but she was the personification of calmness as she met his eyes.

He startled in recognition before he relaxed almost immediately.

"Marinette?" He grinned when she nodded. "Oh Mari, Little D is going to be so happy to see you."

Jason was not shouting yet but it was a near thing. Dick looked at him then back at her. "Oh this is great, now you only have to meet Tim."

She giggled. "Done that too actually. I bumped into him this morning, he was very very sleep deprived. I gave him my coffee and bought him back here."

He snorted. "You've already won over everyone huh? Bruce's gonna love you. Oooh, Bruce and Damian are coming over. They heard about the liar and wanted to come here personally. This is going to be great."

But she had zoned out on the last part. There was something wrong here. Her eyes zeroed on a woman, seemingly an employee as they walked towards the group, more specifically towards Jason.

She had a creepy smile on.

"Jay duck." Marinette screamed, letting her instincts take over. Thankfully, Jason was fast enough. The...needle? The needle stabbed the air instead of his neck and before the woman could do anything else, Marinette was already there and had swiped her off her feet. Jason kneed her unconscious before she reached the ground.

"How did you-? I didn't even see her?" Dick rushed over. "Little Wing are you alright?"

"Stop your mothering." Jason batted his hands away. "Sunshine saved me, didn't she?" He reached out to ruffle her hair again and at that moment a silver string appeared, linking them.

Everyone around them fell quiet...that is, until she hissed an I knew it!. Jason laughed, pulling her in a hug while Dick and Chloe congratulated them.

#daminette #marinette dupain cheng #damian al ghul wayne #soulmarks

490 notes · View notes

kob131 · 3 years

Note

Geez, this person really went all out with this BS rant against the show/staff. www(.)reddit( lcom/r/RWBY/comments/kiqatg/why_rwby_will_always_be_an_okay_show/

... You know I have been trying to step away from directly addressing RWBY bullshit. But...fuck it here.

If you ever talked to me about how I felt about RWBY, I would say that RWBY pre-Volume 8 has been a touchy subject for me. I felt very validated by two videos, "Why RWBY is Disappointing" and "The White Fang Problem".

Yes yes, and people with parental issues feel validated by their abusive spouse. That means nothing, especially given that one of those videos you mentioned is riddled with bullshit.

"Why RWBY is Disappointing" validated my criticism of RWBYs writing. The fact that Miles and Kerry can't and refuse to take any kind of criticism that doesn't hurt their feelings is complete [insert bad word here]. All criticism is going to hurt your feelings. Yes, you should probably ignore the long winded rants that make themselves out to be self important- why is there a mirror here? But there is truth to all criticism.

And there’s a kernel of truth in the best lies- they’re still LIES.

Not to mention the video you mentioned here (which I am assuming is Hbomberguy’s) pulls the SAME SHIT it calls out. Like say...decrying critics pesonally attacking the writers...while proclaiming Jaune and Neptune as self inserts even though Miles AND Kerry is on the record saying that at least Jaune isn’t written by his voice actor.

I'm currently learning about Branding and how important it is to know your audience. Take self.care breaks, talk with someone you trust. Someone who isn't Miles or Kerry! If your reading this. An outside perspective can help. The reason I say that is because if you two constantly talk to each other you're going to end up in an echo chamber. TALK TO FIONA! She's literally your target audience!

Because hey, a man who contradicts himself numerous times and made personal attacks on the creators that only the most malicious and self righteous do is SOOOO trustworthy right?

Remember that tweet Hbomb brought up in his video as an example of criticism the creators should listen to? The one that demanded Miles get back to work and tried to use the catchphrase of his dead friend to manipulate him?

What a fucking target audience.

I know they mentioned ‘Fiona’ (likely the character’s voice actress) but there’s a supposed fan, one that pretty much sums up the critics, and a perfect example why it gets tossed out.

Moving on, the other video validated something I wish it didn't. "The White Fang Problem" brought to light something I knew was there but either ignored or I wasn't thinking. The White Fang has always made me a little uncomfortable. As a minority, it didn't translate well in my head. The minority are the bad guys. The Civil rights group were the bad guys. I brushed it off for a long time but after that video I couldn't.

Ah huh. So uh, the existence of Blake, Ghira, Kali, Sun, Illa, Velvet, Neon ect. is just incovienable to you huh? And don’t give me that ‘But civil rights group!’- The first episode had them break up a peaceful protest and it’s repeatedly hammered home that the current White Fang doesn’t give a SHIT about equal rights. And no, that concept is not racist- Judging from a story I read, that happened to the New Black Panthers in REAL LIFE.

It became a moral issue. Watching RWBY became a moral issue. RWBY is still pushing right wing talking points.-

Being right of you is not right wing, Especially given how you just acted.

I dont believe Miles and Kerry are racist. I do believe that Miles and Kerry both hold skewed beliefs in what right and wrong is.

Projection.

The way Miles and Kerry treat self defense and protest shows that they know nothing about being Black. They didn't do their research. They didn't talk to minorities about how they were being portrayed. They simply believed that they were right and we were wrong.

Ah huh, ah huh, ah huh-

Monty wrote the White Fang this way. You know, the ASIAN man of FOUR NATIONALITIES. So uh, congrats on saying at the absolute most- Nothing.

Now these two videos are old news. They've been posted on this very same subreddit. But you can't go around and say how much of a progressive and open minded individual you are when the fact that RWBY is a racist show and treats minorities very badly. So no one talks about them.

Or that, as I showed: these videos are bullshit.

Also its kinda homophobic too, not because of Bumblby but because despite Tera and Saphorn being a happy married couple they never kiss on screen. Have you seen happy married couples? Have you seen gay happy married couples? They literally do nothing but kiss. Its cute and adorable and deserves to be spread as far and wide. Despite the show having two straight couple kisses, granted one was in Volume but still, they couldn't get the married couple to kiss? Just saying.

... And not all gay couples are the same, even if I’m sure you’re thinking of TEENAGERS.

You know, judging people based on a preconcieved notion (AKA stereotyping) is pretty fucking bigoted itself...

Watch people be in the comments typing away that this isn't a romance show and how I shouldn't expect romance in an action adventure show despite the long list of evidence to the contrary.

Ah yes, that long list of ONE kiss by a TORPEDOED SHIP.

Such convincing rhetoric.

So you can see I was not coming into Volume 8 with my rose colored glasses. I'm sure many of you hate me because of all my comments, but I don't care. I was ready to leave RWBY. I didn't care. RWBY had taken up so much of my life but I don't care. I was not going to support a show that didn't improve.

Ah huh-

You just came in with jade-colored glass and accepted anything that validated you instead of questioning yourself. You talk about branding but that’s ALL you’ve branded yourself as.

So I watched. And something happened. Something strange. RWBY was moving in a direction I didn't expect it to. Oscar got what he deserved. The Heros were oblivious to the danger that is Salem. Things were headed in the direction that would change the characters forever. It'll be just like Beacon but better. And then they had to ruin it.

Oh we are about to get some real bullshit.

Oscar somehow convinces Hazel to betray Salem. What could have been an avenue to a multi season story arc for Oscar that included the stories villains became a shitty uninspired redemption arc. Kill me.

No he didn’t and this has been something hinted at since Volume 4.

There's still hope for the season but at this point I lost all hope.

This is the scene that killed Volume 8 for me. Oscar should not be the one who defeats Salem. In fact he should be an avenue to learn more about the villains. He served his purpose with the heroes, now he has a new arc with the villains. Oscar doesn't turn evil, but he's like a conscious. Salem doesn't want to kill him because he can be useful in finding the last remaining relics and maidens.

Assumptions.

Oscar has a heart to heart with all the villains including Salem. Oscar learns to be his own man and accepts he's now one with Ozma but he doesn't have to be another Ozma. He doesn't have to make the same decisions.

Its a great Arc for Oscar. It also makes sense for his character. Ozma feels Salem is pure evil but Oscar can learn for himself.

Headcanon.

But they won't do that. Instead they're going to take the easy way out. Like always.

Bias getting in the way.

Miles and Kerry love wrapping up each season in a little bow. This is why RWBY is so okay.

They say as every RWBY Volumes ends in a cliffhanger.

This is Beacon but if Miles and Kerry thought that RWBY should still be in Beacon. This is Beacon but without major character death. This is Beacon but the main villain loses because the heroes can't lose. Cinder isn't threatening. None of the villains are. Salem is in a Grimm! She should know everything! Why is there no creativity? Why is she not an over powered mess in A GRIMM!? Her own domain?! Why are the writers writing her not as a powerful goddess reaffirming her as a threat but as a human being. Yes I know what that sounds like but hear me out.

‘None of the villains are threatening!’

‘WHY IS THE MAIN VILLAIN NOT BEING TREATED AS THREATENING LIKE I THINK SHE IS!’

‘Why is there no creativity?’

‘DO THE MOST UNCREATIVE THING POSSIBLE!’

How about I keep mocking you?

If Salem can be out smarted by a 10 year old boy, why did it take Ozma so long to defeat her? Oscar should fail. RWBY should fail. They should go through character arcs that help them better understand Salem. Because that's how you defeat Salem.

Pushing your own thoughts onto the show. Also assumptions AGAIN.

I always believed that Ozma and Salem are very similar to Ruby and Weiss. Yes I know how it sounds but it makes sense.-

Too bad your AU fanfic doesn’t matter.

But they won't. Miles and Kerry will use Oscar to defeat Salem. Why? Who knows at this point. I dont know why Miles and Kerry keep pushing Oscar into the spotlight. Its exactly how they treated Jaune Pre-Volume 7. Jaune had to be the focus so often we hated him. And they're doing it again with Oscar

Ah huh. You know, the whole NOTHING Jaune did in Volume 6 was SOOO spotlight stealing, along with his REMOVAL FROM THE CAST FOR SEVERAL EPISODES.

Wanna bet this is another case of ‘penis on screen, me hate’?

They refuse learn and they refuse to improve. If Volume 8 doesn't improve im leaving RWBY. It doesn't matter to any of you. I'm saying it more for myself. So I don't continue with a show that constantly disappoints me. But more so, I don't support a show that views people like me as lesser. If the writing improves it proves that they can grow and get better but if it doesn't it means they will continue to treat Faunus as misguided and horrible characters. And I refuse to support a show that uses my likeness to get brownie points from people who are unaffected by such messages.

A. No, that’s who refused to do self reflection and improve.

B. Should have done that in the first place.

C. No, once again- You blind yourself from the shit that disproves you.

D. You heard him- Treat the Fanaus like shit and make the humans in the right. You know, the opposite what the show is doing now since it’s SOOO horrible.

E. You are not the center of the universe.

8 notes · View notes

baekchelor · 4 years

Text

ａｓｈｏｒｅ[ix]

pairing: bodevan cash x reader genre: Doctor! AU, Romance, Angst, A tiny bit of Smut summary: After a fall out with your fianceé, and an opportunity to chase your dreams, you embark into a medical mission trip to Namibia where you run into self-taught doctor Bodevan Cash. Love ensues. word count: 4.7k a/n: I think you will love this. I loved writing this so, so much. This is the final chapert, BUT we still have the Epilogue to come. I’m opening a vote for my new story, if you want a Ned Kelly AU pls comment a 🥵below and if you want a George Mackay GossipGirl AU comment a 🤭.

❝the sea, the majestic sea, breaks everything, crushes everything, cleans everything, takes everything...from me.❞ ― corinne bailey rae

THREE ｅｉｇｈｔｅｅｎｄａｙｓ

◄ ｐｒｅｖ

Being completely, utterly honest, you were one of those doctors who suffered the hidden pleasure of actually enjoying Grey's Anatomy. Guilty as charged. Not ony our life, you've understood the guilt some of the characters experienced —Meredith, per se—when a phone buzzed loudly, the name of the person they were supposed to be committed to flashing on the screen, while they were trapped in dreamland and in the arms of someone else.

Empathy crawled over you, though, the thirteenth morning in Namibia. Over the bedside table, your phone spun over the fake wood as the ringtone chosen and reserved for Ethan and only Ethan, sneaked into your dream, grabbed you by the toes, and its claws were so sharp that on their attempt to drag you out, you jolted awake.

However, you weren't able to sit up all sweaty and scared. You tried to, but you were unable. The limbs in your body felt extremely stiff, heavy, and the source triggered the alarm system inside you. Someone's strong, perfect arms were resting tightly around your waist. Said someone, muffled and whined when you carefully freed your body and sat up, every inch of skin flushed red.

As things go, conveniently enough, it was almost midday, and you've slept curled up against Bodevan's frame. With the head buried on his chest, his arms encircling your waist, your legs mingled together... the entire flipping night.

Great. Just great.

The worst thing is —and it is shameful to admit, you must confess— the reason why you decided to answer Ethan's call that morning, was the fact that the longer your phone rang, the most possible it would wake Bo up. And firstly, you enjoyed the view too much to give it up. Secondly, the last thing you wanted was Bodevan to realise your fiancée had called.

By mere instinct, while you murmured a groggy Hello! to the speaker, your eyes travelled their usual route towards the exquisite engagement ring residing on your index finger. Then, right then, hell broke loose. Because there, right there, was none ring to be found.

Your eyes went wide, wild, and almost jumped out of your face when frantically, you introspected between the covers, underneath the carpet, across the floor only to be met with no sign of it.

Shit.

"Hey baby," Ethan's voice was sleepy, deep, and the obliviousness on it made your eyes water. "Did I wake you up, sleepyhead?"

Yes, he did, and your head is killing you.

How many drinks did you share with Bodevan last night?

How many bottles?

How on earth did you lose your engagement ring?!

"Yeah... It was a long night".

"Hospital emergency?" He pressed on, "You forgot to call me. I waited."

"Sorry, E," The apology means so much more, it quivers as you speak. "I was at the birthday party I mentioned before."

Bo rustled in the sheets beside you. Your voice must have woken him up.

The laughter at the other side of the phone, robbed back your attention, "Completely zoom out on that. How was it?".

"Fun, I guess..."

"So it was crap?"

"Yeah," you lied. More so, you didn't lie entirely. It was crap that you lost your ring, and it was crap that you snuggled all night with a boy who is not the one you're going to marry —and it was crap that if you're completely honest with yourself, you didn't give a shit about it. Because you were certain, almost certain, you have fallen in love with another man.

As in, with the man in front of you with wild pillow hair and piercing blue eyes.

With Bodevan Cash.

This was madness. Africa induced madness! Surely, this infatuation was a result of the miles-away syndrome. You haven't seen your fiancée in two weeks, and you have spent the majority of your days in the company of the uniquely weird boy.

But what if... what if the loss of your ring was destiny talking? Perhaps it was written in the stars that the sapphire engraved item wasn't supposed to be wrapped around your finger.

Fate or not, you needed to find it. You couldn't just give up on it and on Ethan. It wasn't fair, and you weren't that kind of girl.

In such wise, you cut the conversation short and hurriedly hung up the phone. Ethan believed your excuse: you slept in, and you needed to rush to the hospital for your rounds.

After you were enchanted by the fact that under a morning sky, Bo's eyes really did match, and you giggled and blushed over breakfast with him —you didn't share pancakes, you wouldn't do that to Ethan. The meal of choice was waffles and sweet but dark coffee—you two embarked on the exhausting search for the ring.

The starting point was the clinic, under the patient's cot. Then you searched across the beach, digging in the sand as if you were looking for seashells. You searched all over your cabin, in between the sheets, under the bed, inside the drawers...On day fourteen, you and Peera turned the teepee upside down, pushing furniture to the corners, emptying the shelves, to no avail. On day fifteen, you asked the hotel plumber to dismantle your sink, in case in your drunken state you'd washed your hands and didn't notice it going down the drain. On day sixteen, you gave up the pursuit. On day seventeen, you came to terms with it and gathered enough courage to break the news to Ethan.

Today, on day eighteen, you are ready. Or at least, you think you are. Bodevan will be here soon, like every day around 9pm to strum some chords on his acoustic guitar and then play that silly game you invented a week ago where either of you would close their eyes, while the other wrote medical terms onto your skin. Whoever wins, gets to choose dinner —and breakfast, because weirdly enough, Bo has been staying the nights. And he always wins.

Holding yourself, in seek of steadiness, you dial Ethan's number. The rain has increased, and you wish upon the stars it delays Bodevan's arrival.

Ethan picks up almost immediately, "Hello, you. I'm on my lunch break, so you're on luck today."

Here it comes. No filter.

"I lost the ring."

"What ring?" He's chewing something, an apple you presume. Ethan loves apples.

"The engagement ring."

"You did what?" He is not screaming, but his voice is sharp, and it cuts right through you.

"I-I lost it. It fell off the night of Danny's birthday party."

"I see." You know what it's about to come, you recognise the tone on his voice as the one he employs when he's aiming to hurt. "You lost your engagement ring the day you got wasted while partying with that excuse of a doctor you're working for."

"I was not-", you hurry, "I mean I didn't..."

"Of course, you did. I know you. I know your hangover voice, and I'm not a fucking idiot."

"Ethan, I-"

"Will you cut the bullshit?" he intervenes, "This is your revenge from what happened with Harper. I understand."

Your mouth falls open, at a loss for words, "Are you implying that I lost your ring on purpose, to get back at you?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Rage curls in your stomach, "Wow. Real nice, Ethan. You really don't know me at all."

Ethan laughs. He fucking laughs. "I'm saying this because I know you." None of you talks for a minute, and then he breaks the silence, "I'll change your flight for tonight."

"No," calmly, you answer. "I'm not leaving until I find that stupid ring."

"Come on, you're never going to find it." Ethan sighs, evidently done dealing with your stupidity. "I will just buy you a new one."

"I don't want a new one," you say, still calm. You've been pacing back and forth concerning the decision you're about to make. Finally, you've made up your mind, and it's clearly the right choice. "I don't want an engagement ring, Ethan." The rest of the sentence goes quietly, "I-I don't want this marriage."

He sighs again, and you can picture him resting his fingertips between his eyebrows, tired of dealing with you and your feelings. Ethan has always been a cold man, and for a while, you thought the only person he was warm to was you. Such a fool. "Is this your way of saying you're still upset over my previous marriage?" asks Ethan. "Because you said you were fine, but I knew this would happen—"

"It's not just that," you confess, in part, you haven't get over it yet and eighteen days in Namibia haven't bought you enough time to do it.

"What are you saying?"

Your heart grows heavy. You hate this. But you have to do it.

"I can't marry you, E. I'm sorry. But I-I can't promise away my entire life with someone when I'm not even sure how I want to live it," you confess, voice breaking.

"Fallen out of love with me already, huh?" he questions, the pain sewed to his words, further breaking your heart.

"I love you. I'm just—It's been hard, this whole thing... we being liers, you being married, me being here..." You don't dare to say his name, but you think it. Bodevan. "I don't know what I'm supposed to know, but at least at this exact moment, I'm sure I can't marry you."

"Alright," comes the response, always calm, always composed. "Let's take a break. We'll talk when you're back."

"Ethan—"

"I'm hanging up now."

Before you could retort, he hangs up. You feel a strange sense of relief, even though something inside you broke with the knowledge of what you'd just done.

It isn't entirely over, you're aware. You still have to go back, and you have to face him, and return gifts, and send apology letters to the guests. But the confession is off your chest. You didn't want to lie to him anymore.

As you let out a deep, heavy sigh, you glance back and notice that right at the doorframe, stands your very own sun. Now you understand why it's raining and cloudy; sunlight is trapped in your cabin. Bodavan witnessed everything, and he is watching you, warily.

Plastering a smile on your face, you greet, "Hi."

He rubs the back of his neck. "I would ask if everything is okay, but clearly…"

Shaking your head, you explain, "It had to be done. I can't do this anymore. Pretend as if I love him like he loves me and spend the rest of my life with him. It's not fair to him, or to me."

Bodevan says nothing. For the first time in days, he looks incredibly flustered, ocean eyes avoiding any sort of contact with you. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but then he steals the words away.

"I apologise," he blurts. "It was inappropriate for me to spend so much time with you, and even worse t-to fall asleep with you in the same bed."

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, shame. More so, hurt. "What are you saying? All of that was my choice, you didn't force me into anything. Wh-why are you apologising?"

"Because I have this... feeling that whatever just happened," Bo hurries his gaze away from you. "H-Happened because of me."

If there was a hole in the middle of your room, you would crawl inside and dig your way back to New York.

"It had nothing to do with you," you half-lie. "Nothing even happened between us," you snap, coming off rougher than you'd expected.

"Right," he murmurs, looking away. You can't fathom why the look on his face manages to break your heart more than cancelling your engagement had. "Let's play something then. W-Whats your favourite song?"

"Sweet Child O' Mine."

He smiles, "That's my mother's as well."

Bodevan shrugs off his wet jacket. He clears his throat and sits on the edge of your mattress, guitar resting on his lap. You hear the soft sound of his voice singing a much slower version of the song, and suddenly, you feel at peace. Absent-mindedly, you pick up Bo's signature mustard jacket, draping it over a loveseat so it can dry. Right off the bat, something silver and sparkling drops to the ground.

You gape. Lying there, on the floor, is your engagement ring. Looking undamaged and pristine. A smile would have curved your lips if it hadn't unmistakably fallen from Bodevans's jacket.

When you crouch down to pick it up, your mind begins to spin. Since when does Bo have it? Had he had it all along? Or had he found it and not told you?

The mere train of thoughts makes you sick to the stomach. You clutch the ring in your fist.

When Bo strums the last chords of the song, and his soft voice comes undone in a whisper, he looks up to find you standing there, features betraying the long lost smile.

You stare out at the bay, avoiding the gaze he refuses to haul away from you. His eyes are deep blue, as wild as the waves crashing the shoreline. Confusion is evident on his face, brows curved in the sense of bewilderment. Right now, Bodevan is a doctor, trying to diagnose your symptoms, and figure out what shifted inside you that has you bracing yourself against the biting gale off the water. And him.

You tug the yellow montgomery closer, but it is no use. Only one thing could warm you tonight, and he is out of reach. You miss the way he fills the circle of his arms with your body, leaning down to kiss the crown of your head —it should be an Anatomy case of interest, it seems to be customed as the perfect resting spot for his lips. But it is a good thing Ethan isn't here now. What he'd find out would leave a bruise on Bodevan's face, and it would be the last hit to turn you into pieces.

Bo's eyes drop to his jacket, your fist clenched around the fabric, and his face falls. Dr Cash found the disease, and it pains him, of course, it pains him. He just figured out, the source of your lack of well-being, is him.

"You know," he states, careful. The astonishment in his voice doesn't surprise you, yet you can't explain to yourself why it stings so much. You’re trying your hardest to stay calm. But a lump has formed in your throat, your stomach has turned into a thousand knots, and you can feel the tears building up inside your eyes.

"Why?" It is pathetic, really, how your voice breaks amidst a one-word sentence. The tears are free now, streaming down your cheeks. "I know it wasn't for the money. Unless you've fooled me on your Maoist shit as well."

"A fighter for the rights of poor farmers and landless labourers, seeking to overthrow the state and usher in a classless society? I am."

"Then, why did you do this?"

Bodevan looks away, clearly weighing his options. It takes him a second, and then he is down on his knees, staring up at you with big ocean eyes, and your legs turn to jelly.

"I know what you think, but I didn't do this to hurt you," he grabs your hand, and you feel his fingerpads as though they were burning through my skin. He takes your palm in his own, urging to open up your fist. "You have broadened my mind, you've helped me grow. The way you've opened me up —you've penetrated deep inside me. Like if you had cut me open in the operating table and filled my insides with you. And I know I penetrated deep, deep inside of you—" he stutters, with eyes still wide. If you weren't as mad at him, you would find the pink streak across his cheeks adorable, and you would find inside you the box of tenderness reserved just for Bo and his peculiar self. But Bodevan made sure to close that box, cover it in tape, and carry it all the way down to the basement in your heart. "Not, not like that. I-I would love to... o-one d..."

"Bodevan..."

"I did it because I am an idiot," he blurts out. "I'm an idiot for you. I-If you'll have me." Right on cue, you watch him suck in his breath, wishing to take back his confession. Clear as water, you can see the progression of his emotions settle in the crease between his eyes. Bo feels impetuous, then bewildered, then ashamed by his own forwardness. He always does this, too many times before.

"No," you whisper, remembering...always remembering... Ethan. Bodevan's lies. "I don't want to talk to you, and if you care for me at all, you won't say another word."

His ocean eyes drill into you. Bo steps back and crosses his arms over his broad chest —God, you'll miss watching his yoga routine in the morning. But this is his fault.

For a few seconds, he looks at you strangely, wondering whether to concede. You stand for a moment, gathering energy, it's stupid, but it is taking all of you to walk away from this misunderstood unique boy. But is time to let your feet drag you out of this air-consuming cabin, away from Bodevan Cash and his perfect long hair. Back ashore.

The moment you storm out, rain drains all over you. It soaks you in a matter of seconds, but you don't care, you really don't care at all. You're angry and upset and feel as if you're adrift in the middle of the ocean, with thunders in the horizon and strong winds moving your ship from side to side, without giving you a rest.

Bodevan chases after you. Ever so careful, he clasps his big calloused hand, around your waist and guides you to meet his eyes. It's puzzling, he has never done such thing, on the contrary, his gaze is always playing hide and seek with you.

"I didn't tell you because every time your anatomy appears in from of me, I run out of methodology," he says frustratedly. "Because this love no longer understand of reasons or advice and it feeds on pretexts, and it lacks pants."

With shaking hands, almost without noticing, you let the ring fall to the sand. "T-This love?" you ask quietly.

Bodevan doesn't let go of your wrist. His lids are squeezed shut. "I'm sorry. You have every right to never talk to me again."

"You didn't answer the question. Do you love me?" you ask again, heart hammering in your chest.

"By all means," he confesses, chest rising and falling. "I-I'm an idiot who somehow fell in love with you without realising it."

Dizziness overwhelms you. You share the same suffering than Bo. This love doesn't allow you to stand, it has broken your heels. Even if you get up, you'll fall again into it. Even if he hid the ring, you're still in love with him. Even if Ethan returns, you would still be in love with Bodevan.

You've transformed into a thing that does nothing but love him —fool, blind, deaf, brute. Bodevan Cash rules your thoughts day and night, withal how many times you've tried to bury him in your memory, you haven't figure out a way to forget him.

If you could exorcise yourself from his voice.

If you could escape his name.

If you could rip your heart out and hide, so you don't feel ever again.

Maybe then, you would be able to stop loving him.

"I'm stupid, you know? I always want the things I can't have" Bodevan stutters. "And now I've ruined everything."

Your thumb brushes against his cheek, "You haven't ruin anything."

Taking him by surprise, you untangle his grip from your waist and bring his hand to your waistline. His figure grows very still as you pierce through his blue gaze, his pupils nervous. "I gift you my waist," you whisper softly, pink mouth close to his bruised one. "And my lips, for whenever you want to kiss."

Both of you, nervous as hell, can't believe the promises that are rolling off your tongue.

"I give you my delusion," you giggle. "And the few neurons I have left."

Bo doesn't react and says nothing for a bit. It frightens you, but you find comfort in the fact he hasn't pull away from you. And then, he hums, "I gift you my silence."

You want to cry, of pure and golden happiness. Bodevan leans closer, resting the damaged skin of his perfect lips at the tip of your nose. And you say, "I gift you my nose too."

"I give you my bones, even," Bo interjects, voice deeper, rough. He is breathing heavily, forehead pressed to yours, and your mind flashes back to the first day you met him, and how you have been like this, near the sea. "But don't run away from me anymore."

Bodevan lands his lips into yours. Responsive, you entangle your hands in his damp locks, luring him closer to your body. His lips are igniting fire down your spine, and you discern now why he is your sun, and why his eyes are like the morning sky.

Dramatically out of character, he doesn't hesitate when you reach down to pull his shirt up and off his body, your small, cold hands resting on his toned, flipping fantastic chest. The rain continues, yet, neither doubts to turn your clothes into a wet pile dangerously close to the seaside. Bo lowers you onto the sand, kissing patterns into every inch of skin he encounters, tracing the entire shape of your body. Never in your life, have you felt this alive. Every part of you burns under his touch and his eyes, and you don't fear to be consumed by the fire.

Eyelids screw shut when you hear yourself gasp. Your bodies have entwined, and you hold him close, closer as you ever embraced someone, his minty breath misting your ears as he whispers your name.

"Bo..." lazily, you flutter open your eyelashes and watch him in adoration. His jaw is clenched in concentration; his hard muscles contract and pull on top of you. Bodevan brushes your cheekbone with his fingers and kisses you twice before burying his head in the crook of your neck. His breath is staggering, hot and wild.

Bringing his face to yours, he opens his eyes, "You once asked what I loved most in the world..." You did. He answered, his siblings. "I lied. It's you."

As you smile, you recognise you're equally a liar. When he asked the question back, your answer was medicine. But it is him. It really is him.

The following morning, you wake up tangled in the sheets, a beam painting your face with pink shades as you remember why. Peacefully asleep and ever-so ethereal, Bodevan lies next to you.

Bo matches your smile as you kiss his cheek, your fingertips tracing the words you couldn't find yesterday, but the ones you're certain you feel. He's always been an expert, he always beats your ass, and you can tell he understands what you're writing with invisible ink across his back when he smiles, lids still closed. You love him, and although you can't vociferate it, you want him to know it.

Bo pulls you into his arms, "I'll wait for you. You have my words" he rustles. "But you need to go back to Manhattan. You need to go sort out if you really want a life in the middle of nowhere, with me.

"I do."

"You don't," he intervenes. "You have been here too many days, now everything is blurry. My dad, he—He never asked my mom if she still wanted the life she was living. And she killed herself." Tears run down both your faces, no matter how hard you're trying to stop them. "I would never do that to you."

You nod, "Alright."

Bo wipes your tears away with his thumb, "I will miss you."

"I will miss you too," you choke. "So much."

With one last look back at the boy with morning-sky coloured eyes, you step into the departures gate, taking a shaky breath as Bodevan waves goodbye. An ocean will be between you, and your heart drowns the entire flight home.

ｎｅｘｔ►

#ashore #ashore:three #George mackay #George mackay x reader #bodevan cash #captain fantastic

84 notes · View notes

interstellarflare · 4 years

Text

Loved You Dangerously - Thomas Shelby

-PART NINE-

Song: Dangerously - Charlie Puth (slowed)

Warnings: Violence, swearing - this chapter will contain gore.

Summary: I loved you dangerously, more than the air that I breathe. Knew we would crash at the speed that we were going, didn’t care if the explosion ruined me. Baby, I loved you dangerously, Mmmm, mmmm. I loved you dangerously.

An arranged marriage to one of London’s most notorious criminals isn’t something that you planned for. But when you so happen to be kidnapped by the one and only Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders, your story takes a drastic turn full of lies, deception, and a love that you never thought possible.

Author’s Note: This is a series that is all my own. Events happening within will not directly correlate with the actual show. This is a bit of a long chapter, sorry, and there will most likely be many spelling errors which I will edit later. But nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy!

“I’m not sure if I can do this” I mused nervously, folding my arms over my chest in a somewhat pouting manner.

Thomas laughed loudly, the sound echoing out across the pasture as amusement settled on his features. He shook his head, approaching me slowly with a small gesture of his hand. “I wouldn’t let you handle a weapon if I didn’t trust you to use it” he responded, casually removing a small revolver-type pistol from the holster inside his jacket and placing it in the palm of his hand. With a strange calmness I had never seen before, Thomas extended the weapon toward me, his eyes moving between his hand and my own hesitant eyes.

I shook my head, biting my lip anxiously as I threw my arms out in protest. “No, I’m not doing this-” “Y/n, come on” Thomas tried to reason, his shoulders slumping in a tired and mocking nature. “You might be okay with shooting someone, Tommy, but I’ve never even held something like that!” I explained, pointing towards the weapon still in his hand. He sighed somewhat frustratedly, allowing his head to tilt to the side as he spoke, “And that is why I am going to teach you. It’s really simple, and I promise I won’t let anything happen to you” he tried to reason, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

It had been two days since the altercation with Alfie’s lackey, two days since the said man had completely disappeared. Two days since that kiss.

My heart fluttered at the memory, a strange feeling spreading through my chest as I remembered the feeling of his lips against mine. Since that moment in the billiard room, Tommy had never left my side. I grumbled under my breath, Thomas’ deep chuckle only making my annoyance grow. “Fine...” I snapped quickly, the man before me nodding his approval with a smug grin “show me what to do”.

I took the weapon from Thomas’ grasp, flinching at the cool metal. It was an unfamiliar feeling, holding something so dangerous. I allowed myself to adjust to the weight of the revolver, my hands somewhat trembling as I sighed shakily. “Alright, the first thing you have to do is stand side on...” Thomas instructed, placing his hand on my shoulders and turning me to the side. “Okay-” “Now, hold your arm out and aim towards the tree” he continued, standing off to the side and watching me closely. I did as I was told, holding my arm out towards the large oakwood tree. Straining with the unfamiliar weight of the weapon in my grasp, I was oblivious to Thomas coming up from behind, suddenly pulling my body close to his without warning.

A small gasp escaped my lips in shock, his chest vibrating lightly as a deep chuckle resonated from within him. I watched him smirk almost triumphantly from the corner of my eye, as he extended his arm along mine, steadying the weapon in my hand with his own as he gently grasped my wrist. “Now...” he whispered lowly, his lips only inches away from my ear “all you have to do is steady your hand...and fire when ready”.

I shivered at the sensation, his breath slightly ghosting the shell of my ear as I attempted to readjust my aim. When I felt confident, I slowly squeezed the trigger, flinching slightly at the loud bang that resonated from the weapon. Thomas chuckled lightly as I stumbled back against his chest, keeping me upright so I wouldn’t fall. “See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Thomas retorted teasingly, causing me to roll my eyes with a breathless scoff. “I suppose not...” I responded allowing my arm to fall to my side “although I stand by what I said earlier”. I felt Thomas’ hands carefully move up to my shoulders, his fingertips gently caressing the nape of my neck and leaving a ghosting sensation across my skin. I shivered involuntarily, causing the man behind me to laugh deeply.

Leaning into his touch, I smiled up at him sadly. “You know, we shouldn’t be doing this out in the open-” “What are you so afraid of?” Thomas asked quietly, his head tilting to the side in wait for my answer. I began to grow frustrated, handing the weapon back to him with an annoyed sigh “You have done so much for me. If someone saw us, if one of Alfie’s men saw us...I don’t want anyone getting hurt, Tommy. I just-” My breath hitched in my throat as Thomas lunged forward, cupping the side of my face with his free hand as he captured my lips in his own. His other hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against his body with a deep chuckle. It was a gruelling task to not melt completely in his arms, as I slowly pulled away from his kiss. Smirking devilishly, Thomas stared down at my smaller form with a loving gaze, his cocky expression forcing me to punch his shoulder lightly. His gaze suddenly fell, a low sigh escaping him. “I will be in Birmingham tonight. I have some...business, to take care of”.

My chest tightened, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. I nodded slowly, biting my lip anxiously as I stuttered awkwardly “I-Is Arthur going?”. Thomas nodded. “John?”. He nodded again. I didn’t dare ask about Polly, a scared part of me already knew his answer. I watched from the corner of my eye as Thomas approached, linking his arm through mine as he sighed through his nose. “You’ll be left in the care of some of the maids, as well as a few of my own men who will be guarding the house...” He began, tightening his grip around my arm comfortingly “you know that I wouldn’t do this unless it was absolutely necessary-” “I know...I know. I just, I would feel safer if any one of you were here”.

Thomas then pulled my body towards him in a comforting embrace, I welcomed his touch as buried my head into his chest. Thomas chuckled faintly, “If it helps, I don’t think Alfie would be stupid enough to strike again after his last attempt-” he laughed as I scoffed, pushing him away playfully before storming back towards the mansion. I turned to smile at him over my shoulder, my heart warming greatly as he Thomas smiled in return.

The Shelby family had departed for Birmingham a few hours ago. It was now nightfall, the grounds of the mansion were deathly silent.

I sat once again at the small wooden table in the mansion’s kitchen, chatting idly with one of the maids that cared for the Shelby household. Only just ascending into womanhood, Talia was only fifteen, and had been working for the Shelby’s only for a short time. She had cared for me when I had arrived here at the mansion, and I felt horrible for not getting to know her sooner. We talked about our lives, how we both somehow ended up here under the Shelby’s roof. Talia explained that her family lived in Birmingham, and had sold her to the streets to earn a living. Polly had found her slumped against The Garrison walls, and offered her a good paying job, and shelter here as a maid.

For the first time in a long, long while, I told Talia about my arranged marriage to Alfie. Aside from Thomas, Talia was the only person I had opened up to about this whole issue, but that didn’t stop her from playfully teasing me about the fact that Thomas and I had grown close in the months that I had been here. My relationship with the leader of the Peaky Blinders, apparently, was a hot topic of conversation around the mansion grounds. I was astounded, bewildered even.

Later that night, Talia and I ventured into my room upstairs, having been scolded by the head housekeeper Agatha for creating a mess in the kitchen in our attempt to bake a cake. We both giggled to ourselves as we sat on the bed, talking about anything that came to our minds. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask...” Talia spoke quietly, cringing as she spoke “what will you do if Alfie does find you? Given what’s already happened, he obviously won’t stop until he has you back”. I fell silent, trying to come up with an answer. I shook my head, sighing heavily as I closed my eyes in thought “I honestly don’t know. My father no doubt wants Alfie to stop at nothing to get me back, but Thomas is just-”

A loud crash sounded from downstairs, followed by various frightened shouts. My stomach churned, my heart staggering in its rhythm. My eyes widened as rushed footsteps thumped up the staircase, a muffled voice ordering several unknown names to search each and every room. My gaze immediately turned to Talia, her eyes glimmering with fearful tears. I rushed forward, grabbing her by her shoulders and forcing her into the adjoined bathroom. “Lock the door behind you...” I urged her, smiling as reassuringly as I could “you do not open this door for anyone but me, do you understand?”. Talia nodded quickly, quietly shutting the door with a faint ‘click’ of the lock. With a shaky breath, I quietly approached my bedroom door, carefully peering out into the hallway. There was no one outside, except for a few shadows that danced underneath the doorframe in the room across from my own. I made a silent dash for the hall, thanking whatever god there was that I wasn’t caught.

I had to reach Thomas’ office without getting caught, which I knew was a lot easier said than done. Voices came from every direction, muffled and not, and it was impossible to tell exactly where they were coming from. But after cowering behind several pieces of furniture in the hallways, I managed to reach Thomas’ office. A single ray of moonlight shone through the curtains, illuminating the room enough for me to navigate my way around. Closing the door behind me with a soft ‘click’, I then dashed over to the desk, where I knew Thomas kept one of his pistols in a draw concealed beneath a pile of old paperwork. As I rummaged through the draws’ contents, a faint ‘snick’ caused me ti freeze, my eyes widening as my gaze lifted to the door. Standing in the doorframe was the same man from two nights ago, his face contorted with multiple cuts and bruises, and his eyes burning with a vengeful fire.

My fingers graced the cool metal of the weapon beneath the papers as he approached, a crazed smirk crossing his beaten lips. “You didn’t think I’d just lie down and die, did you?” he spoke darkly, his voice low and hoarse. I gulped, my gaze never leaving his approaching form. He chuckled, the metal of his revolver illuminated by the natural light of the room. With his weapon still aimed in my direction, he sauntered over and around the desk towards my form “Alfie’s changed his mind, you know. He’s given us boys permission to kill you, and blame your murder on the Shelby’s. Or, we can bring you back alive, which to me is boring”. As my hand moved to grasp the revolver in the draw, Alfie’s lackey swung his arm, his weapon colliding with the side of my face. A sharp cry escaped my lips as I collapsed to the ground, releasing the revolver from my hold, my ears ringing and and head pounding, I tried to scramble away from the man behind me to no avail. Dazed and confused, I tried to swat away his hands as they gripped my arms, hauling me to my feet before he picked me up effortlessly, tossing my form over his shoulder.

I screamed, thrashing about in his grip as he carried me away from Thomas’ office, down the grand staircase, and out of the mansion towards an awaiting car. I continued to thrash around, screaming and cursing until I was harshly dropped to the ground, with Arthur’s lackey kneeling down to the gravel path and pressing the barrel of the revolver to my temple. “Shut the fuck up, or I’ll blow your fucking head off. You understand!?” he yelled threateningly, as I regretfully sobbed a pathetic reply. My hands stung from the gravel beneath, warm tears streaming down my cheeks as I struggled to stand. “Do we really have to do this?” a young voice spoke timidly, “she doesn’t-” “Do you want your money or not?” The man beside me spat, gripping my arm and hauling me to my feet. This couldn’t be happening, I couldn’t let this happen. While I might have been a crying mess, I wasn’t about to be taken back to that monster of a man without a fight.

With a loud cry, I wrenched my arm free from his grip, and took off at a sprint back towards the mansion. I didn’t make it far though, as a strong force tackled me from behind, the both of us crashing to the gravel once again. I was flipped onto my back, struggling to remove myself from beneath Alfie’s lackey as he tried to aim his revolver straight towards my forehead. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you if I have to!” she shouted, landing a strong punch to the side of my face. Ignoring the taste of copper filling my mouth, I fought against his hold, grabbing his hand and trying to turn the weapon away from my form. It was a great struggle, my arms straining against his strength. My gaze met his, an expression of rage contorting his features as he released a loud battle cry before pulling the trigger.

Time seemed to slow down as all the air left my lungs, leaving me dazed and confused as the man atop me froze, warm red droplets hitting my face in a violent spray. It was then that I could feel a warmer sensation spreading across my abdomen, soaking my clothes completely. But there was no pain. Alfie’s lackey sputtered, coughing loudly as blood dribbled from his mouth. It was then that I looked down, my lips trembling as tears cascaded down my cheeks. Somehow during our struggle, I had managed to grab his revolver. I don’t even remember pulling the trigger. The man atop me gurgled, falling forward onto my body before going completely still. I lay on the gravel in shock, my entire body trembling as my breathing became erratic.

I had killed him. I killed him...I had shot him.

I began to sob, shakily pushing the body atop mine aside and scrambling to my feet. I felt sick, the smell of iron filling my nose as I turned to face the men standing beside the car further up the way. I can’t imagine how I must have looked, but I must have looked quite terrifying if it was enough to scare them. A sudden anger surged in my chest, a blood-curdling scream escaping me as I aimed towards Alfie’s men. They cried out in fear, scrambling into their car as I fired the first shot, the bullet shattering the glass windscreen. They drove away at full speed, not once looking back as I threw the revolver as far into the pasture as I could.

I collapsed onto the ground before, traumatised by the body who’s life I had taken. Traumatised by the blood that coated every inch of my hands and my clothes. I screamed into the night until the early hours of the morning, anguished and ugly sobs until I could no longer scream. No one came outside, no one came to get me. If they did, I hadn’t heard them. The cold numbed my body even more, but I couldn’t feel anything.

It wasn’t until the night sky faded to morning grey, enveloped by a haunting white mist, that the valley had fallen silent. A single car drove down the driveway towards the Warwickshire Mansion. I slowly looked up, a broken sob leaving my lips as I immediately recognised the figure sprinting towards me, his loud cries of my name bringing some form of warmth back to my broken body.

Tag list: @supermassiveblackhope @affabletimelady @spaghettirogers @audioshoes @gabriellepearce96 @twin-skltns @daisyxbuckley @arachnidscosmopoliton @ljb-novels @lordofthunderthr @hereticpriest @captivatedbycillianmurphy@imnotuglyimjustpredebut @lovelynerdytraveler @rhiannon-the-troublemaker @adepressedstudentslife @affection-rabbit

#thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #cillian murphy

10 notes · View notes

quicksilversquared · 5 years

Text

Kill Shot

Marinette is tired of getting her school days ruined by bullies. She's tired of having to deal with them and with adults not doing anything to stop them.

So she hits back. And when she does- well, bullies beware, because this girl means business.

links in the reblog

Marinette was tired.

She was tired of missing class and events to fight akumas, and tired of making excuses to cover her absences and then having to make up the work on her own later. She was tired of comforting people after Chloe bullied them and seeing absolutely no consequences for the school's biggest bully, again and again and again. And she was really, really tired of Lila. Of hearing her lies, of seeing her classmates sucked in to the increasingly ridiculous tales, of getting blown off by Alya whenever she tried pointing out contradicting things in Lila's stories and of having to decide whether or not hanging out with her friends outside of school was really worth tolerating Lila's company for even longer than usual.

There was nothing she could really do about the akumas besides just fight them, at least not at the moment. Marinette was planning on using her spring break to buckle down and do some serious brainstorming about how she and Chat Noir could track Hawkmoth down and end the battles for good, but the break was another couple weeks out yet. That just left her Chloe and Lila problems. Two bullies, but both carrying out their bullying in very different ways and making her life very, very difficult.

Weren't adults supposed to be the ones to deal like stuff like this? Why did she have to be the one to do all of the fighting against evil? That just wasn't- it wasn't fair. Marinette was supposed to be able to be a kid right now, and dealing with supervillains and bullies was taking that away from her. More than anything, Marinette wanted to be able to fully enjoy her days together with her friends without having to be on guard and alert all the time.

Sure, maybe she could just do her best to ignore some things. But allowing evil to fester wasn't the answer, either. Not when Lila had threatened Marinette and was clearly doing her best to trip up Ladybug, and both she and Chloe were causing (or being) regular akumas.

Trying to call Lila out straight wasn't going to work, Adrien had been right about that much. It was irritating to admit, but she had her claws in too deep and was too good at turning on the fake tears when anyone challenged anything she said. Marinette had to be crafty if she wanted to outfox Volpina. And as for Chloe...

Well, she was supposed to just be able to go to an adult and report the bullying and have it dealt with by people in charge, but the adults seemed to be unwilling to actually do anything, because of the Mayor. Which meant that the root of the problem was there, somewhere, but how was she meant to deal with it? She couldn't just go up and judo-kick the Mayor as Ladybug to solve the problem. Marinette wished that it was that easy.

Marinette mulled over the problem as she sat in class, waiting for their teacher to come in and start the day's lesson. There had to be other ways to call out a liar other than sitting in class and pointing out every contradiction and inaccuracy and straight-up lie that came out of Lila's mouth. She could text Penny and have Jagged Stone make some comment during his next interview, but that would just be a small bunch of lies disproved and Lila would no doubt make up some new story about why Jagged Stone was refuting her claims. Lila had done that when Adrien pointed out that Ladybug had already called her out, and it was just going to happen again with every other lie Marinette pointed out.

(In fact, it had happened with every last one of the lies that Marinette pointed out. Lila came up with a new story, every one less believable than the last, and yet...)

She could try to get Lila cornered in a lie that someone else in class- say, Alya- would know was a lie, like something about Rena Rouge, but if Lila picked up on the fact that Marinette was trying to get her to say something specific...

Well, she would wonder why Marinette suddenly cared about her opinion, for one thing. She would wonder why that topic. And it could be dangerous, too. Lila would wonder why both Marinette and Alya (and Nino, too) would know that whatever she said about Rena Rouge would be a lie. So that was out for sure. And if she went the route of trying to convince one or two people at a time, the chance that one of them would go to Lila and ask her about something and therefore give away Marinette's plan was too high. Lila would retaliate then for sure, and Marinette really didn't need yet another thing to deal with right now.

In fact, that strategy in general sounded like a lot of work, and that was the opposite of what Marinette needed right now and the opposite of what she was going for. No, what she needed was a one-shot thing that would take Lila out solidly and for good.

And the sooner she could think of something and implement it, the better.

Marinette spent Saturday morning getting all of her homework out of the way so that she could spend her afternoon in the park, relaxing and getting some sorely-needed inspiration for a new set of designs. A summer dress was slowly taking place in her design book, and it was truly a pity that it would probably never actually be created. She just didn't have enough time, nor enough money to buy the fabric for all of her projects now that she had to cut back on the babysitting. After far too many times when she had been watching after Manon and an akuma showed up, she had had to ask Madam Chamack to keep her as an emergency babysitter only instead of Manon's regular sitter.

It was just one more way that she was getting stretched too thin.

It was relaxing to sit in the park and just be able to glance around and enjoy the calm, Marinette reflected as she added one last line to her drawing before sitting back. She hadn't gotten to do that frequently enough recently, too caught up in needing to keep on top of her schoolwork and then making presents for her friends and getting tangled up in schemes to ask Adrien out (and that...yeah, those were exhausting, too. She was going to tell the girls that she needed a break from that, too, just for a bit), and she hadn't realized before how much she missed it. The background noises of kids running around and cars driving past and the muted conversation from pedestrians was calming-

"Jean-Paul just kicked me!"

...the sound of arguing children was less so.

Marinette sighed and opened her eyes in time to see another small child scowling at the first. "Tattle-tale! You always go running to my mommy!"

"Maybe so, but we don't kick others," Jean-Paul's mom scolded. "And you'll be getting in trouble for that. If you can't play nice with others in the park, we're going home."

"But mommy-!"

Marinette watched as the crying child was hauled out of the park. The kicked child went running back to the group of kids playing with a ball nearby, a smile on his face as he did. He could play without fear of being pushed around now, and it showed.

And just like that, an idea hit Marinette like lightning.

That was it! She could tattle to Mrs. Rossi. Lila's mom would know the truth of who Lila had and hadn't met, and of course she would know where Lila had actually been during those months and months of when Lila had claimed that they were out of the country (and, as anyone with eyes could see, had Skyped them from in front of streets strangely devoid of pedestrians aka posters). She was probably oblivious to her daughter's actions, and honestly, it was time for that to come to an end.

(And now that Marinette thought about it, wasn't it likely that Mrs. Rossi was getting manipulated by Lila too? How else could Lila get away with skipping school for months?)

The main problem, Marinette decided, was that she didn't know Lila's mom. She couldn't just go to the embassy and expect to be let in and led straight to Mrs. Rossi. Besides, she didn't exactly want Lila to find out who had let her mom know about her lies, not with Hawkmoth still active and Lila getting akumatized every time she was even mildly inconvenienced. But maybe she could do some research online and figure out exactly where she needed to go before acting.

Newly re-energized, Marinette packed up and headed home, making a beeline to her room. As she settled down, her phone buzzed with a message from Alya, asking if she was positive that she couldn't make it to the class outing that afternoon. Adrien was going to be able to make it for once, and maybe she could ask him out then!

Marinette sighed and rolled her eyes. Yes, she was positive. Lila was going to be there, and if Adrien was there, too, Lila was going to be hanging all over him and Marinette wouldn't get a chance to even get close. And even if she got a couple minutes with him, she didn't want to risk stuttering her way through a conversation with him with Lila hovering nearby, ready to take advantage of any weakness that Marinette showed.

Besides, she had research to do.

By the time dinner rolled around, Marinette had made some good progress. While poking through the government webpages to find the embassy, she had found some other interesting pages, ones that she bookmarked to come back to later. She had also found Lila's mom's page and another page that confirmed that Mrs. Rossi had never left the country when Lila had said they would.

If she had thought to look for something like that before, Marinette might have just brought that to Ms. Bustier's attention and let things fall apart from there. But now that she had come up with the idea of emailing Lila's mom directly, she was going to follow through with it. That was guaranteed to have pretty swift and complete results, whereas just telling Ms. Bustier might not have as much of an effect.

(That was still being kept as a backup plan, though. Marinette added it to her dossier of bookmarks.)

"Are you emailing tonight, Marinette?"

Marinette shook her head as she headed for her trapdoor. "No, I'm not. The timing has to be right, and I've decided that I need to make sure that I have evidence to send to back up at least some of the things that I'm saying. Some recordings, maybe, or- or something."

She was going to take Lila down in a single go, and she was going to do it right.

Marinette's Week of Evidence-collecting started out strong. Lila was still coming up with at least one or two lies per day- well, or at least referencing old lies, Marinette didn't think that all of them were new but she was hardly wasting the energy on listening to and remembering everything that Lila said- and with Tikki's help, Marinette was getting recordings of almost all of them. While the audio was a bit muffled at times (Marinette edited it later, so that it was easier to hear), it was clearly Lila's voice.

Besides, her classmates kept saying 'tell us more, Lila!' or 'that's so cool, Lila!', so if there was any question with whose voice it was, that should lay those questions to rest.

On top of that, Marinette had noticed that Lila spent a lot of time hanging off of Adrien, clinging to him and even going so far as to press kisses to his cheek while he was trying to squirm away. She needed to get punished for that, too, so Marinette managed to take a couple videos on her phone of Lila thoroughly invading Adrien's space and him looking deeply uncomfortable to send to Lila's mom.

Mid-week, Marinette saw something that made her very, very glad that she was taking action.

Lila had asked to go to the bathroom midway through class, and then Marinette got sent to the principal's office on an errand. On the way back from the office, with a stack of permission notes in her hand, Marinette spotted two things down on the first floor.

One was an akuma, fluttering towards a classroom. The other was Lila, headed for the akuma, chasing after it with her eyes fixed on the purple butterfly.

Marinette's phone was in her hand and recording before she even fully registered it. And there, in full color, she saw Lila catch up to the akuma and catch it in her necklace, accepting Hawkmoth's power faster than anyone else Marinette had ever seen. In a burst of black bubbles, she transformed.

And that was quite enough video. Marinette ended the recording and saved it, then made a sprint for the nearest closet to transform before Lila's latest akuma form could get too far.

(The fight still made it to the street, but at least Volpina couldn't get into her normal habit of hiding and forcing the superheroes to search for her for hours on end.)

Thursday, Marinette collected her final bit of evidence. She wanted Lila to get in trouble for her threats, too, which meant that she had to record them. That meant provoking Lila into cornering her in the bathroom, which... well, that wasn't hard, either. All it took was subtly calling out a lie in class and Lila's hackles were raised.

And just like clockwork, it happened.

"You will regret trying to get people to stop believing me," Lila snarled that afternoon. Marinette had deliberately hung around in the library for a bit, letting people filter out of school before heading for the girls' bathrooms. "They're all twisted around my fingers, you can't snap them out of it. Just watch, soon all of your friends will ditch you to come join me."

"I'm just trying to keep them from getting hurt," Marinette shot back. "You're just using them and making them do your work for you. When they find out-"

"They'll never find out, not unless I've long since moved on and it doesn't matter anymore." Lila's smirk was absolutely infuriating, but Marinette was going to ignore it. "And all of the adults believe me, too. Who's going to tell poor busy Lila that she's not doing enough work on her group project when she's so busy helping Prince Ali come up with fundraiser ideas to raise money to help disabled kids in rural Africa?"

Marinette's gaze darkened. "You're deplorable. I'm never going to let your lies go uncontested."

Lila tossed her hair. "Blah, blah, blah. You're all talk. But if the thought of losing all of your friends isn't enough- if you don't stop trying to interfere, maybe the news stations would be interested in hearing all about the mouse droppings I found in a Dupain-Cheng Bakery pastry."

...oh, Marinette was so glad that she was recording right now. A threat to fake a health and safety issue like that was serious.

"Don't you dare try to bring my parents' business into this," Marinette said at once, just out of reflex. Lila smirked, heading for the bathroom door.

"What are you going to do to stop me, exactly? Just keep your mouth shut and we won't have any problems."

With that, she left. Marinette was practically shaking with rage. After a second, though, she took a deep breath, then another.

Lila might fancy herself some sort of grand manipulator, but right now she was dancing to Marinette's tune.

Friday noon, Marinette had her emails ready to go. One was sent to a certain embassy member, detailing all of Lila's claims and everything else that she had done and finishing with links for the school website as well as her teacher and the principal's emails and phone numbers. Several minutes after that, another email went out, this time to both a French government ethics committee and the Paris school board and reporting the Mayor of Paris for abusing his power and the principal of François-Dupont for failing to stand up to the mayor and failing to protect the rest of his students from a bully for years.

"Two birds, one stone," Marinette said contentedly as she pushed herself away from the computer, closing the window once she had confirmed that everything had sent. "I've just reported the facts, and now the chips can fall where they may. I don't have to deal with it anymore and I won't burn myself out dealing with bullies."

Tikki beamed. "That's so smart, Marinette! But..." She frowned, confused. "You didn't link that video of Lila going after the akuma!"

"No, I didn't," Marinette said cheerfully, pushing herself out of her chair and heading for the door. If she didn't hurry, she was going to be late for afternoon classes, and her attendance record really didn't need that. "I have other plans for that video. You'll see."

By the time Marinette got to school on Monday, everything had changed. Chloe was sitting quietly in her seat for once, all of the wind taken out of her sails after an investigation had been launched over the weekend against the mayor for abuse of power. Mayor Bourgeois had gone silent on his Twitter and refused to make an official statement. Primary investigations that had happened over the weekend- investigations that had started seriously quickly- had already turned up several witnesses who had been threatened or bribed into doing things for the mayor and his daughter, so his political career was looking less than promising going forward.

On top of that, the rumor in the hallways- courtesy of a student who had a parent on the school board- was that the principal and all of the teachers were being required to take a course on dealing with bullies. Everyone knew which bully they referring to, too, but why the school board was suddenly taking action was still a question.

(Marinette knew that already, thanks to the response that she had gotten to her email. She also happened to know that Board of Education representatives would be stopping in unannounced and on a fairly regular basis to observe the teachers and interview random students about how the teachers were dealing with bullies and other issues, so that they couldn't get away with making victims of bullying be the 'bigger person' instead of actually dealing with the bully again.)

And then Lila's mom marched her into homeroom, an irritated look on her face. Lila, who was trailing along behind her, looked a bit trapped.

In her seat, Marinette tapped a couple buttons on her tablet before turning her attention fully to the front. Ms. Bustier got up to talk to Mrs. Rossi at once, the two of them exchanging quiet words while the rest of the class looked on in confusion. Adrien came in, took one look at the scene in front, and then sent a puzzled look in Marinette's direction.

Marinette was quite enjoying the whole situation right now, to be honest. Even if Lila wasn't looking as thoroughly crushed as she had hoped, she was sure that Lila was seething inside.

"Class, Lila has a few things that she wants to share with the class this morning," Ms. Bustier said once the bell had rung. "Lila?"

Lila shuffled her feet, glancing at the floor. A sad look slid onto her face, and Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Clearly Lila was going to try to get enough sympathy from people to slither her way out of this situation, too.

It wasn't going to happen.

"I was really nervous about being the new girl in class when I arrived here in the middle of the school year," Lila started, glancing out from under her lashes. "And with so many people here having had such cool experiences and connections! So I... might have made some things up to try to fit in. I'm sorry for misleading people, I just- I wanted people to like me."

Marinette rolled her eyes as exclamations of "we would have liked you anyway, Lila!" and "That's okay, Lila!" rang out all over the room. How were all of her classmates so hooked by Lila? Was no one going to actually be upset about being misled and hoodwinked?

"And by some things, Lila means pretty much everything that she told you," Mrs. Rossi corrected, and Lila turned a devastated look to her. Apparently she hadn't expected her mom to chime in again. "She has not only not met a lot of celebrities- or any, really- or hung out with them or saved their cats or had songs written about her, but she does not have any illnesses, and we've only left the country for a weekend at a time since we arrived here, not for months, and we only went back to visit family in Italy. She has not been involved in any sort of charity work. And it was very wrong of her to claim that she was, particularly when she was using that as an excuse to get out of doing her schoolwork."

"I just wanted to fit in," Lila sniffled, wiping at her eyes. "And I was hoping that maybe I could do some of those things eventually, maybe, or-"

"Additionally, Lila owes an apology to Adrien for hanging all over him and forcing kisses on him when he clearly was not comfortable," Mrs. Rossi continued, and in front of Marinette, Adrien startled. "And for telling people that he was her boyfriend when that clearly was not the case."

Lila visibly wilted. It looked a little practiced. "I'm sorry, I'm bad with boundaries, I- I-"

"I- right," Adrien managed, glancing at Nino a little helplessly. Marinette had a moment to wonder if anyone had ever apologized for invading his space before- she was guessing no, and that was actually pretty sad- before Lila's mom spoke up again.

"Lila also will be apologizing to Marinette for threatening both her and her parents' business when she tried to call out the lies," Mrs. Rossi added, giving her daughter a nudge as the rest of the class gasped. Lila looked like she was being asked to swallow nails now, and judging by the surprise that had initially flashed across her face, her mom hadn't mentioned that bit of the email to Lila before.

Which meant that she hadn't had a response prepared, not that she could wriggle out of that revelation.

"Sorry," Lila spat out after a second. "What I did was wrong and I shouldn't have done it."

"And Marinette, do you accept Lila's apology?" Ms. Bustier asked cheerily, ignoring the now-stewing student next to her. Marinette straightened and glanced at Lila, then turned her attention back to Ms. Bustier.

"No, I don't accept her apology," Marinette said clearly, and she could hear the gasps at that, too. People had apparently thought that she would be kind and forgiving as always, but that wasn't going to happen this time. She wasn't going to back down. "Because clearly Lila isn't actually sorry for threatening me. She's just sorry that she got caught."

Ms. Bustier looked a little uncertain about how she was meant to proceed after that. Clearly she had expected that Marinette would accept the apology graciously and perhaps offer to show Lila how to properly behave or something of the sort.

And that was not happening. Marinette was not obligated to forgive her bullies. The teachers would learn that during their 'how to deal with bullies' course, and if they didn't? Well, the School Board would find out and require more training until the message got through.

"Well, we wanted to make sure that all of Lila's old classmates knew the truth," Mrs. Rossi said after a moment. "Lila will be switching schools, effective today, and her new teachers will be given a heads-up so that this doesn't happen again. Lila, say good-bye. We're leaving now."

Lila waved after a moment's pause, and as she and her mom turned to leave, she sent one final poisonous glare at Marinette. It promised retribution, but Marinette didn't falter at all. In fact, as she glanced down at her tablet and saw the response to the email that she had sent right before class, she smiled.

Lila might think that this was all of the punishment that she was going to get, but she couldn't be more wrong. After all, the police were apparently been very interested in the recording and videos that she had just sent them. Allegations that someone was working with Hawkmoth were taken very seriously, and the video of Lila grabbing an akuma that wasn't even going for her so that she could transform and the interview that Marinette had gotten with Chat Noir over the weekend where he had stated that Lila had faked injury to distract him and give an akuma easier access to Ladybug while not under the influence of any akuma were pretty damning evidence. And as for the diplomatic immunity that Lila got thanks to her mom…well, Marinette was pretty sure that if Ladybug made a quick visit to the embassy with the evidence over lunch today, the protection would get waived pretty fast. Collaborating with terrorists was not something that they would let slide.

If Lila had thought that she was in trouble before, it was nothing compared to what she was going to be facing now.

Content, Marinette turned back to her notebook. Two of her long-term problems had been solved over a single weekend with a couple well-placed emails, and it was such a weight off of her shoulders. On top of that, the video that she had taken of Lila accepting the akuma had reminded Marinette that while kwamis could not be caught on camera, the same could not be said for Hawkmoth's corrupted butterflies. And that had given her an idea to track down Hawkmoth and end the akuma battles for good.

Next weekend, the superheroes would be making a trip to the police station to meet with the chief and set up a secret array of cameras across the rooftops of Paris to hone in on where the corrupted butterflies were coming from. By the time summer rolled around, she and Chat Noir should know where Hawkmoth's lair was and be able to attack him, ending the fight for once and for all on their terms.

For the first time in what felt like a very long time, Marinette was feeling fully optimistic once more.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #marinette dupain cheng #our favorite girl kicks butt and takes names #if tumblr's gonna take away my page breaks I'll just get new ones

403 notes · View notes

ice-cream-nekogirl · 5 years

Text

Young Love and an Episode of Friends (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

Summary: Bakugou’s always called you useless, especially because of your inconvenient quirk and love for ‘stupid TV shows’, but you’re determined to prove him wrong.

Hehe what kind of fangirl am I? Posting this just a day before Kacchan’s birthday...? Ah but I’m cruel lol... cuz there gonna be some ANGST in here guys... ENJOY~! And enjoy the American Horror Story Allusions!

BTW SORRY FOR ANY OOC-NESS!!

Featuring: Lord Explosion Murder!!

Your Quirk: Descensum

You can astral project and travel deep into spiritual planes and cross into the afterlife, but not returning to your physical body in 15 minutes will result in death.

You sighed as you retreated back into the comfort of your neighborhood, shaking your head at another failed attempt to talk to him. Bakugou was so difficult sometimes, even though you loved him. You knew you did, most people said it was only a ‘crush’, but you knew that you loved that jerk with all your heart. No matter how many times he hurt your feelings.

But while your heart longed for him, your brain was also telling you (like many of your other friends) that you deserved better than how he was treating you.

“You know if you need anyone… a listening ear or anything at all Katsuki, I’m here. I’m always here…” You had said to him, but all he did was scowl at you, almost looking insulted that you had offered him such a thing.

“Tch, shut up… I don’t need your help, or anyone else’s. Besides, why the hell are you offering help? You can’t do shit… not with your useless quirk, or in general.” His words were scathing and cutting you slowly, but you endured them for the sake of your friendship. Especially after everything that had happened to his class from the Summer Camp incident, the kidnapping, the Culture Festival and everything else that was currently going on.

Sure you were just a student from the General Studies due to your passive quirk, but it didn’t mean you didn’t want to help. Your friend Shinsou was able to rise above the ranks after all and his quirk was passive like yours. You wanted to help out in any way too, even if you were still in the General Studies.

“I might not have the most practical quirk, but that’s not important… I mean it, I’m not just saying stuff, look I know it hasn’t been an easy time for you and your class and I want to try and-“ He quickly cut you off before you could keep talking.

“You want to try and what? To feel important?” Bakugou scoffed at you as you almost timidly looked away from the ferocity in his eyes. “No that’s not…”

“Don’t bullshit me. It’s always been that… all you’ve done is follow me and that damn nerd your entire life because of how weak you are.” He said, not seeming to care that you were visibly hurting from every word he was saying.

“Your quirk is useless in battle. And you can’t even use it without a time limit holding you back… when’s the last time you’ve heard of a hero who saved people with astral projection? You’re better off quirkless.”

It surprised you to hear him say that, since you swore he almost sounded concerned as his hardened features softened ever so slightly, at least until he just glared at you again. “So don’t go offering something you can’t give.” Bakugou said one last time before he turned his back to you and left you alone outside the Heights Alliance.

Which is what led you to where you were at now, on your way back home where you would wallow in your room for the rest of the day. Maybe you would get lucky another time.

…

On the weekends you made sure to try and hang out with Izuku and Bakugou as much as possible, even though they were often busy with their schoolwork since they had much different work than you did. However, you still made sure to at least say ‘hi’ or even offer to hang out with them.

Today you got lucky thanks to the sweet Kirishima and Mina inviting you on their trip to the mall that they had to drag Bakugou to. Which amused you as you snickered at how Sero and Kaminari literally pulled him along.

You did try to talk to him again though, just to try and ease his bad mood. “Hee~… since you’re finally having a break from all your work, do you wanna come over to my house and watch an episode of Friends?” You offered with a smile, but Bakugou wasn’t even giving you a smirk.

“No.” His reply was quick. “That show is overrated. I don’t get it.” He added, which kind of disappointed you since he knew you liked that show, but you knew he just wasn’t big on it. Though, you remembered when he would watch it with you during your middle school years.

You really missed those days. Bakugou wasn’t exactly sweet back then either, but lately he’s just been all stick and no sugar. At least some days he would humor and reluctantly watch a ‘stupid show’ with you just so you would stop bothering him.

But you didn’t want to fight so you shrugged your shoulders, “Well it ain’t for everyone.” You said passively, wanting to just avoid any kind of confrontation, “Do you maybe want to go stop someplace for ice cream maybe?”

“No.” Another quick reply, and you could tell he was getting annoyed with your offers. Instead of getting upset though, you just pouted.

Bakugou didn’t miss your disappointment though, he was aware that his answers were putting you down. It’s not that he didn’t care about your feelings, but he couldn’t waste his time just fooling around when he had his training to focus on. Admittedly, he did kind of miss just hanging out with you a little bit, but you would never know that because he wasn’t going to drop his priorities for you. He didn’t like to acknowledge his weaknesses, even though he was coming to terms that he still had a lot of work to do.

And after much denial, he eventually told himself that you were one of those weaknesses, and he hated it. He hated you for it too; he hated that he actually gave a shit about you and at times did worry about you. You would never know though, he would never let you know.

Which is why he was so annoyed with your constant offers to hang out, and how ignorant you were to how he felt. Why were you so attached to him?

He growled lightly when he saw you trying to come up with something else. You were so oblivious it was pissing him off.

“Ooh, well hey how about maybe next week we go and see the new Avengers? We can even cut in front of everyone and be the first ones in.” You suggested with a big grin, because you had been going on and on to your friends about how excited you were for that movie. Especially Izuku and Shinsou, your two closest friends besides Bakugou.

Now you were positive that Bakugou would accept this offer, but all he did was give you that same glare. “Like I’ve been saying only a hundred fucking times, No! Instead of focusing on fake heroes in those damn TV shows and movies, maybe you should focus on your own work, stupid.”

Okay, that hurt.

“Okay… jeez… you know you don’t always have to be such an asshole.” You crossed your arms and pouted, but Bakugou didn’t yield. “Whatever.” He muttered, feeling like arguing with you would be a waste of time he walked ahead of you to leave you again.

You watched him walk away, your pout turning more into a frown as you sighed heavily and started walking into another direction.

“I just wanna go home in bed, eat cookie dough ice cream and watch Friends for the rest of my life…” You muttered to yourself as you peered inside a furniture store that had everything from mattresses, wide flat-screen TV’s and sofas. The perfect environment to wallow in misery.

Who the hell did Katsuki think he was? You wondered as you walked into the store and sat down on one of the mattresses. It was nice and soft, and you wondered in amusement if Shinsou’s mentor Mr. Aizawa would like this bed.

To get a better feel of the material, you lied down and rather enjoyed the billowy cushion. It helped that your quirk required to lie down so you could let your soul project from your body freely. Your quirk wasn’t useless, it was cool. In fact, you felt like Eleven from Stranger Things.

As you closed your eyes, you decided to experiment with your quirk that required you to chant the magic words.

“Spiritu duce, in me est. Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi… Descensum!”

You felt yourself almost sink rather quickly as your soul left your body and transported you to the other plane. As you opened your eyes, you saw your body lying on the bed, without a soul as you turned to see other people just walking about in the mall.

Giggling a bit, you momentarily walked around the small store and when someone walked right past you, they cringed and shuddered. Clearly, they could feel your presence but just couldn’t explain it as you tried not to laugh.

Feeling adventurous you opened your arms out and jumped up to float about among the spiritual plane, looking around the mall in awe as it looked much smaller in mid-air. And as you floated around, you saw Kaminari with Sero, and Mina with Jiro! And you tried not to snicker when you saw Bakugou yelling at a sheepish looking Kirishima.

You wondered what they were all talking about…

However, you couldn’t have too much fun because spiritual planes were all fun and games until you got yourself stuck in another part of the netherworlds and couldn’t find your way back without some otherworldly forces interfering and keeping you from going back to your body.

So you flew back to the store, but before you could return to your body you noticed that you weren’t alone when you noticed a pair of yellow eyes staring right at you.

It was a man, or at least it appeared to be a man. He was tall and strange-looking with a white face smeared in black and white skeletal make-up along with a black suit and tie and a rather nice top black hat. The man smiled at you, almost politely as you blinked slowly. It became clear to you that he must have had a similar quirk of sorts, but this was kind of making you uncomfortable, so you quickly made your way back into your body.

You took a deep breath as you opened your eyes. One thing about your quirk is that every time you came back, it felt like coming alive just shortly after dying since your body was empty without your soul to occupy it. Which was somewhat dangerous since anything and anybody could do things with your body as long as your soul wasn’t in it.

But the scariest part was that you would supposedly die if you didn’t return to your body in 15 minutes according to your mother, whose mother had the same quirk and had died from herself. You wondered if that’s why Bakugou was such an ass to you when it came to your quirk. Maybe he worried about you. Since your mother had explained to you that your quirk, called ‘Descensum’, was a hereditary one that supposedly came a bloodline of witches from Salem.

Thankfully you had gotten pretty good with coming back to your body at a record of 5 minutes each time you descended. But after seeing that person you just wanted to go back to the Bakusquad and then go home to watch Friends and eat ice cream like you had planned.

However, as soon as you exited the store the same man you saw startled you by appearing right beside you.

“Your quirk is quite fascinating young one.” The man said in the smoothest tone you had ever heard from anyone. For some reason he reminded you of that villain you heard of from Shigaraki’s gang of goons. Mr. Compress you think was the name.

But it kind of alarmed you that this person knew and witnessed your quirk at work (Hey that rhymed). And you couldn’t be so trusting since Izuku had an ordeal of his own with Shigaraki here at this mall. Who’s to say that this person wasn’t a villain in disguise?

“Thank you. Not many people seem to think so… honestly sometimes I don’t think so either.” You shyly mumbled, smiling just a little bit for the sake of being polite despite your discomfort, and this stranger seemed to know it.

“You are welcome. Do not let their words convince you that your quirk has no use.”

“I try… but… you’d be amazed at how some words can hurt…”

“Especially when those words are from the young spitfire Katsuki Bakugou. Correct?” You gasped and widened your eyes a bit. How did he know about Bakugou?

“H-How did you know…?”

“I know many a great deal about the people I set my eyes upon. It comes with my own little gift.” He smiled almost sweetly, keeping his luminous amber eyes on you the whole time and unsettling your very skin. Was he looking into your soul? Was that his quirk?

You didn’t want to be rude, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Um… who are you exactly?” You asked as politely as possible, and he gave a rather jaunty chuckle.

“I like to call myself ‘Shinigami’.” He answered, and that made you wonder if he had some kind of death-related quirk given his appearance and namesake. Although you didn’t want to be quick to judge since some of the other kids in Class 1-A were quite strange in appearance such as that raven boy Tokoyami, or the multi-armed boy Shoji, but you heard from Izuku that they were some of the nicest guys in the class.

And this man was treating you kindly enough, but the secrecy in his gentlemanly smile and demeanor didn’t make you feel at ease at all.

“There was fear you know? For all his bravado there was fear during the time when he was kidnapped. Thoughts going through his head… wondering… would he ever see his classmates again? His friends? His parents? Would he ever see you again?” Shinigami began saying these things that didn’t make sense, at least until you pieced them together and your eyes widened ever so slightly as your mouth dropped a little bit. Did he mean that Bakugou was actually afraid when he was kidnapped by the League of Villains. You always assumed that he was, but he never admitted it or really even talked about it with you. And it shocked you when this person said that Bakugou actually thought about you during that time in his life…

Did he really think about you in that traumatic moment?

However, instead of dwelling on that too much, you were becoming extremely creeped out by just how much this person knew about your friend, and possibly your other friends if what he said about his quirk implied anything. “I-I don’t think…”

“It was one of the most terrible times in his life. Behind that machismo lies a little boy who was frightened by the big scary men and women who were able to take him away and render him powerless just for a moment… and to have his childhood idol risk everything for him after?” Shinigami’s smile turned ominous, even if it wasn’t you he was talking about. It didn’t mean you weren’t freaked out, but you were glad Bakugou wasn’t here. You didn’t want to imagine how he would have reacted if he heard this stranger delving far too much into his personal life and picking at old wounds.

“Truly… it impacted him greatly… it is something the boy can never truly forget… but he will never let you know it… his care for you is genuine… but he is much more interested in pushing you away…” He finally stopped his creepy talk, but as soon as it became more about you, it made you gasp a bit.

But the worst part is it all made perfect sense. Bakugou never confided in you about anything, even though you tried to tell him that you were always there for him, but all he did was push you away.

Just thinking about it brought tears to your eyes, even though you wondered why did you let him treat you like that? Why did you stay even though he was mean to you? Why were you so attached to him?

“You love him.” Shinigami seemed to read your emotions and answered all the questions you were asking yourself. The man sounded like he was touched, but you couldn’t tell if it was genuine. You blushed heavily at the accusation, but you were finding it difficult to argue, “I-I don’t… I… no that’s not it…” You weren’t fooling anyone, not even yourself.

“You love him, but he does not love you the way you love him. He thinks you are weak. A distraction. Why do you think he does not confide in you? It would be a waste of his time…”

Shinigami’s words almost sounded slower as he talked, but it didn’t mean you didn’t hear what he was saying. They seemed to slow down just so you would be forced to hear and let the reality sink in.

Bakugou didn’t love you the way you loved him. He thought you were weak. A distraction for him. A waste of his time.

As the words rung in your head, singing the song that was crumbling your heart and bringing you a special kind of pain that felt hellish. You remembered your other friends. Like Izuku and Shinsou, two guys who you knew were in your corner. They had your back. Izuku was always there for you, and Shinsou grew a soft spot for you since you both bonded over your quirks during his time in the General Studies.

“Why waste your own time on a man who does not love you?” Shinigami then asked you, and once you slowly got over the pain of reality, you looked at him, and you shook your head.

“I do love him. I don’t think giving him the time of day is a waste of time though. Katsuki’s an asshole but he’s my friend. But I think I’ll have to kick his ass to make him never forget that… or at least tell him to stop being so mean to me all the damn time…” You came to that conclusion. As much as you loved Katsuki, you didn’t want to put up with his bullshit anymore, but you didn’t want to break off the friendship either.

And you were positive that you could try and get him to ease up just a little bit and see that you weren’t any of the things he called you. You weren’t weak or a distraction. You would be a hero just like him and just as strong as him.

You could do it.

Shinigami almost looked disappointed with what you said, however he said nothing for a while. “Young love.” He finally said, sounding like he understood but it’s clear he wasn’t happy with what he was hearing from you.

You weren’t aware of it though, but you did see his smile grow when he saw somebody over your shoulder. Turning, you saw a somewhat confused Bakugou a couple of feet away, and you blushed heavily when you thought that he might have heard everything…

Shinigami flashed the boy a smile, tipping his hat off to him but Bakugou didn’t take his politeness well as he growled at the man and quickly made his way over to you. “Who the hell are you?” He roughly asked the strange man and stood in front of you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say that Bakugou was trying to protect you from this person.

“Just a friend. (Y/N) has a very interesting quirk you know? I find it quite fascinating.” Shinigami replied and looked him right in the eye, and you gasped a little bit as soon as he said your name, and Bakugou heard how surprised you sounded.

“Yeah right, get lost you fucking creep before I make you…” Bakugou didn’t hesitate to threaten him as his palm crackled a little bit just to give this weirdo the message. He would have yelled but he couldn’t be so sure if this person was a villain or just some freak and causing a scene would just send the entire mall into a panic. If it were a couple of months ago, he probably would have done that, but he’d been learning to at least try and assess a situation before acting. And on top of that you were right there, he wouldn’t risk you getting hurt with a potential villain so close with an unknown quirk that would probably harm you.

Thankfully Shinigami didn’t seem very put off by his behavior as he only smiled, “Very well then. Farewell children. I think we will see each other again quite soon…”

Even as the man walked away, only then did you feel genuinely scared, “Katsuki… I never told him my name…” You admitted, and even though Shinigami did imply that his quirk let him know many things without a person telling him, it still freaked you out.

“Well maybe don’t talk to strangers next time dumbass!” He somewhat harshly scolded you, grabbing your hand and taking you as far away as possible from this place. Like hell he was going to leave you alone after this.

You tried not to smile, but you couldn’t really help it. You knew he cared!

…

After a while, you thought about telling the police about that strange man who had talked to you and made you uncomfortable. But you ultimately decided not to as Bakugou walked you home, and once again turned down your offer to watch at least one episode of Friends with you.

Sighing you sat on your sofa, all by yourself since your parents were still at work. They were usually at work which somewhat bothered you, but they loved you so it wasn’t too bad. You just wish someone was here with you.

You couldn’t rely on Bakugou though, and you didn’t want to interrupt any of his friends since they were likely with him. And as much as you didn’t want to bother your other friends, the loneliness was getting a little bit too much so…

You pulled out your phone and started texting your two other best friends. Izuku and Shinsou.

‘Hey Izuku. Srry 4 sudden text. But if u’re not busy. Feel free 2 come over 2 my house. Gonna watch Friends.’

God you felt dumb and pathetic just for texting your friend, and immediately you expected him to say no. And so you decided to text Shinsou too.

‘Hi Toshi. Gonna watch Friends. Wanna watch with a friend? AKA Me?’

You kind of snickered at your terrible pun as you instantly got a text back from him.

‘That is your worst pun yet.’

‘But Sure.’

You nearly jumped up from your sofa, grinning widely when your friend ACTUALLY took up your offer and was going to come to your place. And your joy didn’t cease when Izuku texted back shortly afterward.

‘Hi (Y/N)! Sure thing. I’m not busy so sure I would love to watch Friends with you.’

Izuku really was a sweetheart. You were sure he probably could have said no if he wanted to but he seemed to actually like spending time with you so that just made you happy.

‘AWESOME! THANK U SM!! Invite the rest of the Dekusquad if u want, I’m lonely.’

You somewhat bluntly texted and added a smiley and sadface emoji. For a moment you regretted texting that last bit, but deep down you knew Izuku understood.

And so when they did show up, you were beyond overjoyed as you grinned and giggled, “Izuku~!” You quickly flustered your friend by hugging him rather tightly, “A-Ah! H-H-Hey (Y/N)… i-it’s g-good to see you too…” He stuttered as he blushed quite madly from how you hugged him in front of his friends. Even though he was used to your hugs and he liked them, the fact that you and him weren’t children anymore, and the fact that physically you were all grown-up, made him feel rather… awkward and shy when it came to such close, physical contact.

You almost missed how Uraraka, Iida and Tsuyu were blushing as you just smiled widely to see your company. Much like with the Bakusquad, you were pretty chummy with the Dekusquad as they seemed to enjoy you and you sure enjoyed them. “Hey ya’ll~. Welcome to House (L/N).” You somewhat dramatically invited them all in.

“Hi (Y/N)! Thanks for inviting us!” Uraraka sweetly thanked you, and you smiled and bowed to the girl. She was such a sweetheart to you and Izuku and you adored her.

“Yeah, that was nice of you.” And there was Tsuyu, who just seemed to rub you the right way because you loved the girl. She was nice.

“I will never say ‘no’ to a Friends marathon~. Thank you kindly for thinking of me (Y/N)~.” Aoyama seemed to be flirting with you, at least that’s what you were getting as you smiled awkwardly but happily.

“Please forgive our intrusion (L/N)!” Before Iida could go on and on about thanking you for your hospitality you quickly waved him off, “No, no Iida there ain’t nothin’ to forgive, I’m so excited ya’ll are here. I’m ‘bout to watch a Friends Marathon~. And don’t worry, I got plenty of food for this exact thing.” You politely said to the much taller boy as you let your classmates make themselves at home and you turned on the TV.

However, you got nervous as soon as you saw Todoroki. He seemed confused, albeit partially interested in his surroundings. It was hard to pinpoint, but you considered him a friend and vice-versa because he was nice to Izuku and he found you interesting and tolerable enough to be around.

“I wasn’t sure what Midoriya meant when you said a ‘Friends’ marathon.” The heterochromatic boy admitted, and you gasped somewhat loudly. It didn’t necessarily startle Todoroki, but he was confused by your reaction. “Friends is only one of the greatest shows of all time dude! It’s about a group of friends of course, but that’s just it… you see them struggle together and get through the hard times together and it just… it’s funny, it makes you feel good, and on top of that you get the musical delights from Phoebe Buffet.” You explained it to Todoroki, and he still didn’t seem to understand, but the look in his eyes implied that he did want to know a little bit more.

“I see.” He replied neutrally, but you just smiled and led him to your couch, “Put your butt here, and just watch, you’ll see what I mean.” You advised and Todoroki did comply even though he was still confused.

But you immediately got up as soon as you heard your doorbell, and cheerfully ran over because you knew who that was.

“Hitoshi~!” You ended up hugging him as soon as you opened the door, and unlike Izuku, Shinsou appeared somewhat more annoyed. But he didn’t push you away, and instead took the time to notice Izuku and the rest of his friends.

“Shinsou! Hi there.” Izuku was clearly happy to see him, but Shinsou didn’t exactly return the feelings.

“What are they doing here?” He asked somewhat curtly. Despite being on better terms with them than he was during the Sports festival, he still didn’t entirely like them that much.

“It’s a Friends Marathon ‘Tosh, that means I gotta watch it with Friends.” You clarified with your own bizarre logic, but Shinsou just sighed in annoyance. “That doesn’t make any sense…” He muttered and shook his head.

But he made the mistake of looking at your not-so-subtle puppy dog eyes, “C’mon~… they’re not that bad~. They’re here to watch Friends too after all… anyone who watches that show has to be good right? I’ll let ya sit next to me~.” You tried to convince him to stay even if he wasn’t that into Izuku’s friend group, but he couldn’t say no to you. Well, he could, but he didn’t want to…

He liked you too much to just crush you like that.

“Fine. I have nothing better to do.” Shinsou shrugged his shoulders, his words sounded cold but they lacked the coldness to them as he did sit next to you on the couch as you happily cheered. “YAY~!!”

I’LL BE THERE FOR YOU~

You were thankful for Izuku, Shinsou and the rest of the Dekusquad for last weekend. You were sure you would have died of loneliness and boredom if they didn’t show up to watch Friends with you. It was times like this that made you feel so lucky to have such awesome friends like them, especially Izuku and Shinsou. Although, you did wish that Bakugou could have been there…

Even if he probably would have complained and insulted you the whole time. And Izuku for that matter…

However, deep down you knew that he cared. He certainly proved it plenty of times…

And you wanted to see if maybe he was in the mood for talking today. Secretly you doubted it, but it didn’t hurt to try right? At least you would get to see Izuku and Shinsou. But before you could even try to go and see Class 1-A during lunch break, the alarm suddenly made you stop in your tracks.

You could already hear some of the students becoming frazzled and shouting, many wondering if it was a repeat of the USJ incident. But instead of freaking out like they had done, Iida stood up to let everyone evacuate in an orderly fashion. Unlike last time, it wasn’t the media that had trespassed onto the campus, as Nezu’s voice alarmed the students when he made the announcement that a mysterious figure had been spotted on the campus.

With that, everyone had promptly been told to exit the school safe and sound with the pro-heroes accompanying them closely as they each went home. Whereas All-Might and Mr. Aizawa led Class 1-A back to Heights Alliance.

But instead of going home with the rest of the General Studies, you had snuck out and followed Class 1-A. You had your own plans…

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here…? You should have gone home with the others.” Shinsou was the first to notice that you had somehow gotten in here, even though he shouldn’t have been surprised. You had a knack for being sneaky.

“Easy. I snuck in. And apparently so did some weirdo… but… I have a plan.” You said, smirking almost confidently.

Shinsou looked at you like you had to have been crazy, or stupid. “The pro-heroes advised our class to stay inside the building and for the other students to go home. We can’t do anything especially since we don’t even know what this person’s quirk could be.”

You nodded, obviously you weren’t stupid, but you had a good feeling about this, “I know that.” You said and started walking to the hall where you were sure the others were at, “But! This is where my quirk will come in handy. I’m not Hagakure but if I’m out and about in the spiritual plane I can try and find this person and tell Mr. Aizawa where they’re at.” It sounded like a good plan when you said it outloud, and although Shinsou couldn’t find a lot of flaws in that plan, he wasn’t so sure how the others would take that.

He thought about it for a moment, knowing your quirk almost better than you did as he sighed, “You can’t spend too much time in the spiritual plane.” Shinsou’s tone was as stoic and low as ever, but you could hear the subtle hint of worry in there. You smiled at your friend.

“I know. But I always come back.” You said with a wink as you started waving as soon as you saw Izuku, Bakugou and Todoroki with Uraraka, Tsuyu, Aoyama, Kirishima and Iida. “You guys~!” You sounded way too cheerful despite the situation and many of them were surprised to see you here. Especially Izuku and Bakugou.

“(Y-Y/N)!”

“What the hell are you doing here idiot?!”

Of course you expected to hear that from Izuku and Bakugou respectively. “Um I don’t know, saving the day, coming to help?”

“(L/N)! You should not be here! You should have gone home with the others in your class! Though… I suppose you can’t leave now. It wouldn’t be wise to leave now with a suspect on the loose…” Iida didn’t even listen to you, he just scolded you for going against what the pro-heroes told you to do.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… I know I should have gone home, but I was just tellin’ Toshi here that I think I can find this villain for the teachers. After all… my quirk means that I can basically just wander about freely in the other planes.” You stated with a smile, and you managed to convince Uraraka and Kirishima.

“Oh! I get it! Because they can’t see you when you leave your body! Like a ghost! A villain can’t see a ghost.” Kirishima understood your plan, and so far was the only one who had even a bit of hope in you. “That’s right! Souls are like spirits… they shouldn’t be able to see you! And you can check every area in the school.” Uraraka also got the gist of your plan. So far that was two people that thought you could really help.

Now it was time for the skeptics. “(L/N)’s quirk could be useful. But we don’t know what this potential villain’s quirk is. If their quirk somehow counters yours, you could be in danger.” Todoroki saw the flaw in your plan, but he wasn’t saying to be rude, just realistic, and you understood that.

“H-He’s right. I think you should just stay here with us. You’ll be safe (Y/N).” Izuku agreed with Todoroki, but he was more worried than anything. It wasn’t that he wasn’t confident in you, he just didn’t want you to take such a big risk.

“And you can’t just take action! That’s the teacher’s job! It’s wise to just let them do their jobs and not get involved. They specifically told the students to stay out of the situation.” Iida was thinking mainly about your safety, but you didn’t really listen to him.

“It’s not taking action, it’s offering help. If we sit here and do nothing, how can we call ourselves heroes? How can I call myself a hero? I might not be in the Hero Course, but I came to this school to try and become a hero. I have to try…” You explained to your friends, and as much as they were worried about you, that little speech of yours had them speechless for a moment.

Bakugou wouldn’t admit it, but for once he agreed with Deku and Iida. Albeit, mostly with telling you to just stay put, he wanted to go after that damn villain himself, but at this point he knew better than to just rush in blindly. And ironically, he was about to scold you for attempting to do just that, “It’s not like your quirk will actually help. It’s useless… even if you just find the bastard, then what?” But he just had to shoot you down. But it was only because he wouldn’t ever let you know that your descending scared him though and so he never sugar-coated anything to you, nor did he act all nice to you and shit, because he wouldn’t let anyone see that he was soft on you. Not even you.

“Well that’s the point now isn’t it? I can’t be the most useless one in UA all the time.” You shrugged your shoulders, pretending to pop the joints in your fingers, but your joke didn’t amuse Bakugou in the slightest.

“Tch. Don’t even try it stupid. It’s a fucking suicide mission. You can’t even fight back to save yourself.” He muttered, not seeming entirely worried since he knew you always came back. But he really hated your quirk, even if you always returned from those spirit worlds or whatever. It was kind of unsettling.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, “I won’t HAVE to fight back and I SO could fight back if I had to… and when I come back you’ll see that I’m not as useless or pathetic as I seem Katsuki.” Not wanting to lose what little pride you had, you pointed at him with a determined tone before you lied down on the floor and he just stared down at you as you did so. As he always did…

“And when I come back under 5 minutes, yooooou… have to take me to see Endgame~. I already got you a ticket~.” You sang-songed and showed off the tickets you brought in advance, waving them up in his face, much to Bakugou’s immense annoyance. “Forget it Shitty Girl!”

“Too late, bet’s made~.” You sang again with a giggle as Bakugou glared and growled at you angrily, but you thought it was hilarious.

“Wait! (Y/N)… are you sure about this?” Izuku no longer attempted to argue with you, but he had to ask, because he was much more openly afraid whenever you left the physical plane. He knew the consequences of your quirk, and he was worried about the villain possibly seeing you. Even though he knew that you might as well have been a ghost when you crossed into the spiritual plane and no one could see you. He was still worried…

The rest of his class had experience with villains, and you didn’t.

“I’m positive Izuku. I’m coming back. I always do. I can’t always be yours and Katsuki’s standing-on-the-sidelines friend. My quirk is just as useful as you guys’ and I’m going to prove it. I’ll find the person and tell Mr. Aizawa where they’re at. They won’t find me either, I’m feeling pretty confident about that!” You claimed with a rather enthusiastic tone, but you only convinced Uraraka, Tsuyu, Iida, Kirishima and Aoyama.

“W-Well…” Izuku wanted to try and argue, but Bakugou quickly shut him up, “Don’t coddle her all the damn time Deku. It’s probably why she’s so weak.” He said snidely to his childhood friends, much to Izuku’s displeasure and you could only roll your eyes.

“Dude come on… why you gotta be so mean?” Kirishima actually kind of scolded his friend, which just earned him Bakugou’s trademark glare. But Kirishima liked you, he thought you were cool and as much as he liked the guy, he certainly did not like the way he treated you often.

“I am NOT weak! I’m coming back and I’m finding that son of a bitch. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I come back. So suck my dick~.” You smirked a bit just to see that annoyed scowl on his face one last time before you set the timer on your phone for 15 minutes.

“Please be careful (Y/N)…” Izuku said to you as he nervously glanced at you on the floor.

You smiled sweetly up at him, happy that at least one of your childhood friends was showing concern. “I will Izuku. I’ll be back by the time you know it. In the meantime… take care of my body.” You said rather confidently as your friends (sans Bakugou) smiled at you and wished you luck as you closed your eyes.

To recite the spell, you placed your arms outward and began to chant the incantation from your mother.

“Spiritu duce, in me est. Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi… Descensum!”

With a zooming rush, you felt yourself descending into an abyss of dreadful familiarity that felt a little darker and hollower than before. And as soon as you opened your eyes, you found yourself in the spiritual plane. Everything looked the same, you could see Katsuki, Izuku, Uraraka, Tsuyu, Todoroki, Kirishima, Aoyama and Iida each looking down at your now soulless body in concern and anticipation.

But this was good, now that you were in the spiritual plane you could just float about and focus on the suspect that had been spotted around the campus. You got up to leave Heights Alliance but made sure to search around the building in case the suspect was around the area, but you found nothing.

So you flew through the air, looking in every direction as you scanned the Ground Beta, the Gymnasium and the entire campus closely. In mid-air you saw nothing, nobody except maybe the teachers who were also searching for the culprit. They couldn’t see anyone either, nor did they have any luck in finding anyone suspicious.

It was quite strange. Because you weren’t seeing anyone hiding, unless they had a quirk like Hagakure’s, but you didn’t count on that given that Principal Nezu said that this suspect had been spotted.

For a moment you wondered if it was just a prank from some other rival school trying to scare the students. You didn’t want to give up just yet, but you couldn’t be in this plane too long.

Now all that was left was to get back to your body. You flew as fast as you could back to the familiar building, smiling as soon as you approached the door and got on your feet to run back to where your body and friends were at.

However, as soon as you reached the hallway you didn’t see your body, or your friends anywhere. Did they leave and take you to another room? You wondered…

The atmosphere looked darker, and an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine as you looked around and got a feeling of the air around you. It made you feel almost sick when darkness started creeping around the corners. A gasp escaped you as your eyes widened in horror. This wasn’t Heights Alliance, it was some upside-down, dark version of it. As soon as you took the first step inside, everything felt wrong. You could feel it in the stale air as you slowly walked. Something in your mind told you to just escape because this was a trap, but you weren’t sure if you would even be able to do that…

And you paused as soon as your shoe hit what felt like a puddle…

Looking down you saw your reflection in a crimson pool, your eyebrows shooting up in horror as you gasped quietly and felt your heartbeat speeding up as you reluctantly looked forward. There were bodies all over the floor.

Jirou. Mina. Yaoyorozu. Sero. Kaminari. Tokoyami. Shoji. Hagakure. All of them…

“O-Oh my God… Oh my God…!! Mina! Momo! Denki?! H-Hanta?! Guys?! Please… oh please tell me you guys are still alive…” You got down to try and move the body that belonged to ‘Yaoyorozu’, trying in vain to wake her up but the body was limp and cold to the touch. “Momo wake up! Momo wake up…” Your voice broke as you tried to shake her awake, but you saw blood on the corner of her mouth and a deep gash staining her stomach…

Your eyes widened in horror as you looked closer and reluctantly at the rest of your friends. They all had similar wounds to the stomach, the back of their heads, and there were some broken bones…

What happened to them while you were gone? Was it the villain? Where were they now...?

“I told you you couldn’t help… Shitty Girl…” You gasped loudly and turned sharply to see Bakugou, battered and beaten with streams of blood gushing from his mouth, nose and the top of his head, tresses of his blonde hair caked in scarlet.

“Katsuki…” It wasn't just him, you also saw them.

Izuku, Shinsou, Uraraka, Tsuyu, Todoroki, Kirishima, Iida and Aoyama...

All of them, fallen and beaten bloody as they lied in puddles of their blood. Some barely moving and only half-alive as Shinsou slowly peered up at you, wanting to speak but no sound came from his lips.

"(Y-Y/N)... you have to go..." You heard Izuku croak where he lied, and you shook your head in horror. "I-I'm not leaving ya'll..." You refused to leave, but you were beyond confused and scared as hell. This felt so real and yet so artificial that it was shaking your very core and terrifying you as you held your arms, hyperventilating as you failed to calm yourself down as the image of your bloodied friends was becoming too much for you to handle.

Unbeknownst to you, 10 minutes had passed and Bakugou audibly growled as he began pacing back and forth irritably while the rest of his classmates just kept watching you with worry in their eyes. They've seen your quirk work before, and you almost always came back in 5 minutes or less, sometimes you took 7 minutes, but this was so far the longest you have taken and it was starting to concern them. Izuku, Uraraka and Iida looked the most worried as Izuku ran his shaking fingers through his hair while Aoyama and Uraraka tried to comfort him by placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down Midoriya… I am confident in (L/N)’s abilities. She’s a clever girl.” Iida tried to reassure his friend, even though it was clear that he was becoming increasingly concerned too.

“I’ve always seen her come back.” Shinsou, while not as close to Izuku as the others, tried to calm him down since he’s always seen you come back and was always there every time you did return to the physical plane. Even during close calls Shinsou was there every time to see you come back with at least 5 minutes on the clock. But once it was down to 4 minutes…

Now he was starting to worry.

Even the less than emotive Todoroki and Tsuyu were beginning to look worried when your phone went down to 4 minutes.

“She has 4 minutes left…” Todoroki muttered quietly, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. Would you really die if you didn’t come back by then?

While Izuku’s friends barely contained their anxiety, Kirishima concealed his growing concern by trying to calm down Bakugou even though he was on the verge of freaking out himself. “Relax now man…”

“How the hell can I fucking relax?! What the hell’s taking her so long?! She always comes back by 5 minutes! 5 MINUTES!”

“She probably found the suspect." Tsuyu deducted, keeping her cool even though she was getting more worried with each passing second, "If she's taking this long it means that she definitely found something and is probably trying to figure something out wherever she's at." She tried to think of why you might have been taking so long, but neglected to say the very real possibility that either you found something, or something found you. Because she's learned from her consequences of speaking her mind too much, and stating that possibility would just make everyone, including herself, freak out if it were said out loud.

But even if Tsuyu didn't say it, Bakugou wasn't comforted or reassured because Tsuyu had to have been right. You definitely found something because you never took this long. Never...

“Oh my God… no stop it… whoever’s doin’ this just stop it…” You didn’t believe that this was your Katsuki. He might have looked and sounded just like him, but you refused to believe that this was your Katsuki. And part of you wanted to hope that these people weren't you classmates either, they were just illusions...

But why did they look so real?

"You did this yourself you fucking idiot... I told you to just stay put... it's your own fucking fault..." 'Katsuki' said to you coldly, with a hateful glare in his drooping eyes as he suddenly choked when a sharp, squelching slash pierced right through his stomach and you gasped with wide eyes full of terror as you felt the red drops splatter on your cheeks. Your eyes quivered as you watched the dagger rip your beloved upwards and made the rest of his blood spill to the ground as he coughed and slowly collapsed to the ground as you suddenly gasped and let out a horrified wail.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!”

It was taking too long.

You were taking too long and the clock was ticking, which did nothing to ease the nerves of your classmates as Izuku started to pant from anxiety. You always came back by this time…

“(Y-Y/N)’s taking a long time… she never takes this long…” He shakily said to his friends, who were no longer hiding their worry but still trying to remain calm.

“She’ll come back! She always does! Just shut up Deku!” Bakugou instantly shouted at his childhood friend, not wanting to hear that you WERE taking a long time because all that did was make the tightening anxiety in his chest crush him from the inside.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!”

You continued to scream as the rest of your friends were slowly butchered right before your eyes by a dark figure you couldn't make out. All you could focus on was your friends being sliced up and slowly murdered right before your eyes and you couldn't do a thing to help. Even though every semblance of your being was screaming at you to move, something kept you rooted to the spot. Something that wasn't a part of you, it was some kind of force that you couldn't make out, and it forced you to stay where you were at as your friends kept screaming for you.

Again and again, you heard Izuku scream for you, and Katsuki shout when the blade stabbed him again.

"(Y/N)!"

"I told you you couldn't help..."

"O-Oh God..."

SLASH

“NOOOOOOOOO!!”

"Y-You have to go..."

"O-Oh God no... no please stop..."

"You did this yourself you fucking idiot..."

SLASH

"NOOOOOOOOO!!"

"It's your own fucking fault..."

"No stop it, whoever's doin' this just stop it please..."

SLASH

"NOOOOOOOOO!!"

Every single time you saw them die and every time you heard Katsuki's words, you would wail and scream even louder as tears freely flowed down your face. Choking on a sob you sunk to your knees, nearly vomiting as soon as you looked at your dear friends’ bodies yet again.

Your precious Katsuki, Izuku and Shinsou…

And again.

And again…

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!”

It never ended. Even the least of the worst filled you with a despair that just made you want to just cease from existence if it meant being free of this suffering. As you feel down to your knees oncemore, you slowly peered up to see him…

Shinigami.

He stood there, watching you with his piercing, taunting gold eyes. His grin peering into your damned soul as he cackled wickedly at your torment as he forced you to stand back up as you blinked for a little bit.

The epiphany hit you as soon as you let out another scream when warm, scarlet droplets that belonged to no one other that your Katsuki, splattered on your face yet again as your tears continued to fall and mix with the redness.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!”

And This was your hell. And it was your prison that you realized you were going to relive on a constant loop.

Over and over again.

“HEY! Come back already you fucking idiot! I know you can hear me! Stop wasting your damn time you little shit!” Bakugou had come down to his knees and started to aggressively shake your shoulders in an attempt to wake you up. Hating how limp and flaccid your body felt as he glowered at you. You looked so lifeless, as if you were dead and although he didn’t and wouldn’t say it, it was so terrifying to him. You might as well have been dead everytime you used you descended into another plane.

It’s been way too long. He stared anxiously at your phone, and there was only 2 minutes left for you to come back to your body. “She’s stuck. She’s fucking stuck…” He came to that conclusion and he didn’t have to look at his classmates to see them all panicking.

“We have to help her.” Izuku quickly suggested, but he knew that there was very little time left and he honestly didn’t know how they could help you. He was so scared that he could hear his heart beat in his chest, and he was sure his classmates all felt the same fear as they looked at you with alarmed, worried glances.

“We should get Mr. Aizawa! His quirk should cancel hers out and force her to go back to her body… right…?” Kirishima thought outloud, it was wishful thinking at best, but he didn’t want to imagine worst-case scenario. And if the others were being honest, they were hoping for that…

Shinsou didn’t want to show his fear, and he wouldn’t despite his trembling hands, “Mr. Aizawa’s quirk won’t work… she has to come back on her own…” He said, albeit reluctantly as he stared at your body, secretly begging any deity that existed to help you come back…

You had to come back…

But there was only one minute left, and your body showed no signs of life or movement whatsoever.

“Follow my voice… dammit follow my voice you idiot…” Bakugou carefully picked your body up into his arms and held you close to his chest as he whispered to you, “I know you can hear me… hurry the fuck up and just follow my voice… you’re scaring the shit out of everybody…” There was no anger in his tone, only worry as he put his arms around you. He remembered the way you used to hug him every time you saw him when you were both kids.

But as the two of you got older, you stopped hugging him because you knew that he would always push you away and he scared you with his harsh attitude until you stopped. And right now, Bakugou started asking himself why? Why did he push you away?

He loved the way you hugged him. How warm you felt against his body, and now he didn’t feel anything from your body at all.

“We’re all waiting for you…” Izuku’s voice broke as tears streamed down his face that he quickly wiped away. He would not cry, he couldn’t; he knew you would come back, you had to. You just had to…

“(Y/N)…” Shinsou knew it was pointless to say your name because you couldn’t hear anyone, but he couldn’t stop the terror settling in his skin as he shook when he saw only 20 seconds left. The rest of his classmates widening their eyes and beginning to sweat as they focused on Bakugou clinging to your limp body as he shut his eyes and quietly hyperventilated.

“Come back already… Come back…! (Y/N) Come back!!” He shouted desperately as he held onto your body, cradling and rocking you. His hold tightening into a hug you couldn’t feel as warm droplets hit your cold skin.

“TIME’S UP! TIME’S UP! TIME’S UP!”

As your cheerfully voiced timer ran out, Bakugou’s hold on you suddenly loosened as he gasped sharply when he suddenly felt nothing but a shroud of dust suddenly powder his arms and fingers as he watched your body disintegrate into nothing…

He didn’t hear his classmates all shout when your body just… disintegrated. Leaving nothing but a pile of ash that dissipated quickly as they all looked wide-eyed with horror. The room was dead silent for a while, but that silence was immediately replaced with gasps that quickly turned into cries…

“(Y/N)!!!”

Izuku fell to his knees as he wailed your name. He stared at the dust, a mix of horror, disbelief and confusion crossing his features as he let the realization sink in that his dear friend was gone and began to sob loudly and shamelessly. It was all too much for the rest of his friends as Uraraka followed shortly as she let her own tears fall, “Oh (Y/N)… (Y/N)!” Uraraka held onto Izuku to try and comfort him even though she was crying for you too.

Aoyama was horrified, and almost in disbelief. That didn’t really happen did it? He didn’t want to believe it, but the more he heard Midoriya and Uraraka cry, the more it became apparent that you did die. For once he had nothing to say as he held back a sob and hugged Izuku along with Uraraka as his tears fell and quietly cried with them.

“M-Midoriya… Uraraka… A-Aoyama, d-don’t… d-don’t cry…” Iida tried to remain firm and look strong for his distraught classmates, but the more he looked at the ashes that used to be you, the more tears fell from his glossy eyes as he choked on a sob, able to do nothing other than lower to the ground to hug his three friends after the loss of their friend.

Todoroki couldn’t believe what he saw. Did you really just die?

He saw Midoriya, Uraraka, Aoyama and Iida crying and holding each other, and then he saw Kirishima staring in horror and despair as he looked at the remains of your body.

“(Y/N)!!” He didn’t want to cry, but the feeling was way too much for him to hold in as he openly sobbed, and Tsuyu attempted to console him even though she couldn’t stop her own tears from falling. In his grief, the two shared a hug as they both cried for you.

Seeing everyone cry, only reminded Todoroki of his own past pains. He has had his loved ones taken from him before, but they never truly left him. And only then did the weight of your apparent death hit him as he stared at the dust with a gentle, but saddened look as a silent tear fell to the ground.

You were his friend…

“She was... my friend…” Shinsou thought to himself as he distanced himself from the group, covering his mouth with his hand as he held back the burning tears in his eyes but they betrayed him and ebbed down his face as he let out a strained sob.

Bakugou was silent and in a near catatonic state as he stared at the dust, his vision nearly blurring when he looked in horror when he saw some of the powder on his hands. The powder that used to be you…

And his breathing turned shallow, rapid and quiet when he remembered everything he had told you before this.

He called you weak…

A distraction.

Useless.

And then he saw the tickets that were left behind among the ashes. You said you would come back, and yet you broke that promise by not coming back at all and left him with nothing. Nothing but tickets to a movie you said he would have to take you to the next week, but he wasn't going to anymore. He wouldn't take you anywhere anymore.

When the reality settled in, he felt his whole being tremble as his breath stuttered when he tried breathing, letting out a choked sob as his tears cascaded down his face as he crumbled where he sat. There was nothing that could steal this unbearable pain in his chest as all Bakugou could do was sob and let the tears rain and trickle to the ashes that were once you. Every breath felt like he was suffocating as he couldn't fight the guilt that was at war with his fragile pride in his mind as he cried for you.

All he wanted was for you to hug him again, so he could tell you that he was sorry for all the shitty things he said to you and how he had treated you and take you to see that movie and any damn episode of Friends you wanted. But there was nothing there of you anymore, and he couldn't even hold you anymore.

PART 2: https://ice-cream-kitsunegirl.tumblr.com/post/184430454599/young-love-and-an-episode-of-friends-bakugou

1K notes · View notes

ilovemybarricadebabies · 3 years

Text

another fanfic ask game post! enjoy!

This time I’m doing these questions!

Inspiration and Reading Questions:

1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

Reading: I’m not sure. Maybe 2011/2012

Writing: 2013

2. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

It’s definitely both, but I wouldn’t call it a perfect 50/50 split. It varies. Sometimes I read more, but write less or vice versa.

3. Are there any fics that inspired you to write what you do.

Not really. I usually just write fics for whatever I want to.

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Current favorite WIPs.

All That’s Left by @doriangrayscale

flowers for your grave by @grantairesbottle

Lover of the Light by @areyoumiserableyet

Favorite (four) all-time fics

Ask me no question (and I’ll tell you no lies) by Signe_chan

If you offer salvation, I will run (into your arms) by mornmeril

this is fact not fiction by Rianne

Oh, It’s What You Do To Me by captainskellington

5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something.

I have a love-hate relationship with slow burn fics. Like I love them because give me the pining, give me the obliviousness, give me the amazing, sweeping first kiss, give me the angst, just give me all the delicious development that comes with finding common ground and falling in love. That being said, however, and I realize that I’m in the minority here, the hate part comes in when the story is really long, let’s 50+ chapters, and the story gets to chapter 50, but the romance still hasn’t started coming into play and I’m starting to just get sick of it because nothing has progressed to romance. Like there gets to be a time where too much is too much and usually, when that happens, it’s time for me to say adios! to the story.

6. How do you find new fic to read? Where do you primarily read fanfiction.

I primarily read fics on Ao3. I loathe FFN.net with every fiber of my being.

I usually just leave the Enjolras/Grantaire category open on and refresh it like three to four times a day for new stories to read.

7. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

It depends on the ship, but I mostly like long fics.

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like?

I’m absolutely horrid at commenting (I’m working on getting better), but if it’s a story that I really like (ex. the three WIPs mentioned in question 4), I will comment every time there is a new chapter.

9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.

I have no idea. In my opinion, I think all writers are underrated and unknown.

10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?

Enjolras and Grantaire (Enjoltaire) from Les Mis.

Fanfiction Writing Asks:

11. How do you come up with your fic titles?

Through music or quotes. Sometimes one just comes to me, but mostly through music or quotes.

12. Tell the author your favorite fics title of theirs (not the fics, stricktly the title). Author: what’s your favorite title you’ve come up with and why?

I love all the titles of my fics, I can’t possibly pick a favorite.

13. Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just look at an outline of yours without reading the fic?

I make some sort of outline, but I don’t think they’d really get much of a headache since it’s pretty much just a basic plot, maybe sometimes a little more than that.

14. Do you have personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not?

Absolutely not! I write until I think I’ve found a good quitting spot. That can be 500 words or 20k words. It all depends on how I’m feeling and where my motivation is at.

15. Tell the author your favorite fics of theirs. What’s your (the author’s) favorite fic you’ve written?

Forever Was In His Eyes is my favorite with Begin Again as a close second.

Honorable mention because it pushed me out of my comfort zone: Beating of Our One Heart.

16. Do you research your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you down by accident while researching?

I only research if the fic absolutely calls for it.

17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?

On a scale of 1-100, 100. I’m not motivated by feedback like some writers are, but I do love to know if someone is enjoying my fic or not.

18. Do you have WIP that you keep telling yourself that you’ll eventually get back to, but deep down you know that’s probably lie?

Nope. Any WIPs that are unfinished, will probably stay unfinished.

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)?

I edit, and then, I’m constantly editing after it’s posted. If I re-read one of my fics and spot a spelling mistake, I can’t just let it sit there, I HAVE to fix it. I am also currently in the middle of long and giant editing project to make sure all my stories are the best stories that they can.

20. What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Um...I, for some strange reason, love outlining. I love coming up with the sequence of events. How do the characters get from point A to point B. How does the story end.

21. What’s your least favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Editing and revising. Always.

22. Do you take fic requests? If so, for what characters and why?

Nope. I don’t get enough attention in my inbox to do that.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

Forbidden love. I’ve always been such a sucker for this trope.

24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?

I’m sure that there are some tropes that I would never touch in a million years, but I can’t think of any write now.

25. Do you listen to music as your write? If possible, link your writing playlist.

I listen to music, but I don’t have a playlist. Most of time it’s just Taylor Swift.

26. What’s your biggest distraction when writing?

Um...if I’m watching a brand new TV show or one I haven’t watched in a long time, I’ll pay more attention to the screen then what I’m supposed to be writing. This goes for movies too.

27, Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random?

I keep my fics under lock and key until they are finished. No one knows any details about them except me. The one exception to this rule was Beating of Our One Heart. I warned that that fic would feature a polyamorous relationship (something I have never written before) while I was working on the outline.

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

Well, the only pressure I usually feel is worry that people won’t like my story, but I think that’s normal for every writer.

29. Have you ever written for an exchange or event of some kind? Which one(s)?

I don’t write for events.

30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.

R (11:46 P.M.): I’m not sorry.

31. Of the characters your write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain one?

I love writing Enjolras. I’m sure people who have read my fanfics find him to be OOC, but I don’t care. When I write him, he’s half me projecting and the other half is him being the righteous revolutionary that we know him as.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

I can’t pick three, I have too many favorites.

33. What do you like writing better: one shots or multi-chapter stuff?

It depends. I like writing both. I also really like writing one shots that are 30k+ and multi-chapter fics that are under 10k. It all just depends on my mood and what the fic calls for.

34. How much of yourself and your life experience do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?

As stated above, I project onto Enjolras. How much, I’m not saying. I do put my likes and dislikes as the characters’. When I write children, I draw inspiration from my nephews. I use my high school class schedule as the characters’ schedule when I write high school AU’s. The jest of what I’m saying is that I have no idea what my readers’ image of me is.

35. How much has writing fic changed your life?

It’s become my escape when things get too difficult or stressful.

36. Are they any fics or fandoms you’re embarrassed to have written or been apart of?

I’m not embarrassed by it, and I never finished or posted it, but I started writing a Sound of Music fic. I don’t remember what it was about, though.

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write.

My current WIP is almost done. I just have to finish writing more scene.

38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?

It’s very tame, so 1. I write my stories in order of events, if I don’t I get confused on what’s happen. I start by writing an outline, and then I write and I edit (multiple times) before I post.

39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

That I write what I want to. No comments can really influence the story (unless it’s a consistency thing) because I write the whole thing out before it’s posted.

40. How did you come up with the idea for [x fic]?

You can see this answer right here!

41. What’s your most popular fic (with the most notes on Tumblr, most hits/kudos on Ao3)?

My most popular fic based on hits: Somethings Are Meant to Be.

My most popular fic based on kudos: The Enjolras Guide to Weddings and Love.

42. Asker: pick three of the author’s works. Author: rank them 1 (the best) - 3 (the worst) based on whatever criteria you want - this could be something totally random that isn’t quality related ( like simply ranking fics based on how many trains appear in them) have fun!

I’m skipping this question!

43. Talk about a positive experience with fanfiction or the fanfiction community that you will always remember.

Every comment that I get, especially if I get it when I’m having a bad day, is like a little ray of sunshine for me. Again I’m not motivated by comments or feedback, but I can’t deny that receiving it is like a cherry on top of a delicious hot fudge sundae.

44. Ran about something writing related.

How long it takes to write. I wish I could just connect some sort of machine to my brain, and it would just churn out the words for my fics and they could be done a lot sooner. And that fanfiction could come before homework and life, but alas it can’t.

45. Fic specific questions - if you have any weird questions about specific works, here’s your shot to ask them!

Skipping this one, but if you have a question about any of my fics, my ask box is currently closed, but my DM’s are always open.

#fanfic asks #personal post #ask game #long post #fic writing

2 notes · View notes

strifescloud · 4 years

Text

my blood once was my own

3.7k words, big boss/revolver ocelot, mature rating

ocelot in love, through the years

Fifty years is a long time to love someone.

read on ao3

Adamska falls in love for the first and only time at Tselinoyarsk.

He’s there to stall, to create an opening for this man - this American that the CIA sent after The Boss, and so he kills and he grandstands and he puts on a show.

The way he is dismantled so efficiently, thrown to the ground amongst the corpses of the men he’d just slaughtered, plants a seed in his chest that never leaves.

You ejected the first bullet by hand, didn’t you?

It’s breathtaking.

He keeps the bullet, of course, hanging on a chain right above where that strange feeling had lodged in his sternum - after all, he doesn’t get to keep the eye he eventually steals.

Fallen for him? Volgin asks, and Ocelot does not, cannot answer, because it doesn’t feel like falling. It feels like something is growing, crawling through his capillaries, burst vessels expanding like unfurling leaves to cast shadows under the sun.

But quietly, privately, he thinks yes.

He feels its roots curl their way into his arms, his legs. It is what takes him to the WIG, in the end, the force that works his jaw muscles open to compel him to ask for a name.

John.

He wouldn’t forget it.

He’s not expecting the call, but it’s not unwelcome, even though he can tell Big Boss - Snake - John - is lying through his teeth about being in battle.

I’m keeping busy, though - care to join me?

He had the frequency now.

He wonders who named him Adamska - if they had cursed him to a lifetime of succumbing to the temptation of snakes. The roots within him had grown deep, unyielding, suffocating his lungs with the weight of absence. He makes the call, takes a bite of the forbidden fruit.

They arrange to meet.

It’s as remote and non-descript a hotel as they come - which is to say very, in their line of work, staffed with the kind of people who tend not to look you in the eye.

Ocelot doesn’t notice. He only has eyes for the man at the bar.

He greets him with Snake and receives Ocelot back, sliding into the seat beside the imposing figure. Snake had not lost a single bit of his edge, the aura around him both tangible and restrained, and Ocelot feels something in his chest constrict again.

It turns out Snake is still just as oblivious, but Ocelot thinks there’s no way to misinterpret the way he slides his hands up the other man’s thigh just under the bar table, whispering fuck me, Snake into his ear.

There’s a darkness that settles in Snake’s eye at the words, and he wants to unravel it.

The sex is perfect in its imperfections.

It’s the way Snake growls and bites harshly at his throat, but still lays him on the bed with hands too gentle to be stained with so much blood. It’s the way he’s not as experienced as he wants Ocelot to believe, and Ocelot pretends not to see through the false bravado.

It’s the way he sinks down onto Snake, taking all of him, and John whispers Adamska.

He answers in kind when he comes, John falling from his lips like a confession. In a sense, it is.

They lie in the aftermath in silence, John’s hand curling over the bumps of Adamska’s spine the way one would pet a housecat, but he does not feel tamed. He leans up, presses his lips to John’s neck, and the weight on his lungs subsides long enough for him to whisper his devotion into the skin. John’s breath shallows, but his hand does not still.

Later, Ocelot wonders if he was the first to pledge his life to Big Boss. He certainly wasn’t the last.

They stay there as long as they can, a dreamlike haze of sex and sleep and words whispered in each other’s ears, and when the time comes for them to part ways Ocelot doesn’t feel the ache of loss.

The thing in his chest expands, brightens, spreads its branches further across his ribs.

He wonders if it has a name, aside from being his purpose.

He is not at Snake’s side during the MSF, but the distance does not burn as it should.

He is fulfilling his purpose, after all - working his way into organisations, a curated selection of secrets, of contacts, of whatever may be useful to Big Boss one day.

The thing is his chest always pulls, though, drawn like a compass to a place across the sea, and Ocelot knows that when he needs it to, it will guide him home.

He is not at Snake’s side, but their reunion is inevitable, and when it comes Ocelot will have everything Snake will ask of him.

The man he has tied to a chair spits blood onto the floor, and Ocelot frowns at the splatter that streaks across his boots.

“That’s all I know!” The strained, desperate voice heaves from within broken ribs, “That’s all, so please - please-”

Ocelot draws one of his revolvers slowly, running his other thumb across the polished, smooth barrel. His spurs clink in the silence, echoing off the concrete walls as he takes a step forward, and his informant chokes on a blood-soaked sob. He levels the revolver at the man’s bruised face, slowly shifting the barrel across the skin to rest on the right eyelid.

He thinks he does miss John, he muses as he pulls the trigger, but they’ll see each other again soon.

He is not at Snake’s side during the MSF, and the ice that grips his heart when the transmission comes through is new to him.

Snake - John is -

He does not panic. He wills his hand not to tremble as he makes his first call.

When Zero finally contacts him he’s torn between the festered resentment and something almost like relief - the location is safe, at least, and he can start making preparations to be there immediately.

“You won’t say no, will you?” Zero asks him, and Ocelot half-wonders if he’s being mocked.

“I have no choice.”

The thing that lodged itself in his chest in Tselinoyarsk, withered with cold fear, burns again with purpose.

“Thanks.”

“Save your thanks.”

His words, tainted with bitterness, leave the taste of blood in their wake.

The hospital is quiet, the air heavy with the smell of antiseptic and the sound of machines.

Ocelot watches.

John’s chest rises, the slow inhale of breath.

Beep.

Exhale.

Beep.

Regret is useless. John will wake up.

The nurses and doctors have left them alone, and so Ocelot feels safe to press his lips against John’s forehead before he leaves too.

It’s foolishly sentimental, but he makes sure the Star of Bethlehem flowers are always fresh, all through nine long years.

He follows Zero’s plan for the phantom with only a fleeting scrap of remorse. Just another body in their wake, another sacrifice to keep Big Boss safe. It’s no different to any of the others.

He can’t help himself from snapping at Miller whenever they talk, even though he knows Snake would disapprove. The man’s attitude is irrationally grating, blind emotion clouding his judgment, and Ocelot hates the familiar grief that he sees weighing down his shoulders.

He feels it on his, too, even if he tries to ignore it - John will wake up, after all.

His footsteps through the hospital hallway are hurried, and though he hates how telling they are he cannot bring himself to slow down. The nurses and doctors do not try to stop him when he flings open the door, ignoring the figure of the phantom that still lies asleep, and rushes to the other bed.

Nine years.

A familiar smirk crawls across John’s lips, and Ocelot’s heart unfurls like a blossom seeking the sun.

“Kept you waiting, huh?”

A rusty laugh crawls out of Adam’s throat as he steps closer to his Boss, red-tinged with anger and relief and something he doesn’t care to name.

“For a long time, Boss.”

John looks so much smaller in the hospital gown, propped up by pillows and his eyepatch gone, his muscles diminished by the years of disuse - fragile, though Adam finds it difficult to think it at first. Weakness guides him to reach out, leather-clad hand wrapping tightly around John’s, and though it is steady he wonders if John can feel the heavy nine years in his grip.

He waits for John to pull away - waits for a familiar half-smile, for a pointed jab about the watching eyes of the nurses that pace the halls, for the way John never seems to know what to do with his naked affections.

But John’s grip tightens on his, and Adam feels the weight of nine years begin to ease their burden across his shoulders.

“Tell me.”

Ocelot straightens up, but does not move his hand as he reports in to his Boss.

He doesn’t get through it all before he has to leave - nine years of him and Kaz and the world, all the tiny pieces moving apart and together, too much for the Boss to take in all at once. But he returns as soon as he can, armed with cassettes and reports for when he is gone, and Adam tells John a little more - too much, he thinks sometimes, from the way John’s eyes narrow at innocuous words, seeing something in him that Adam doesn’t know he’s revealing.

He does not ask, though, because no part of him needs to be a secret to John.

By the time word spreads that Big Boss has awoken, they’re not quite as ready as he would like, but Ocelot does not panic. For Big Boss, he would make the impossible happen - help the phantom spin his legend, while John creates Outer Heaven in its shadow.

“How are you back on your feet so quickly?” Ocelot prods, having finally tracked John down outside of his room, directed in hushed tones by the nurses.

“It’s a non-smoking ward.” John drawls, and Ocelot shoots him a flat look.

“Boss.” He sighs, but he cannot help the smile that tugs at his lips, exasperated and fond in equal measure. But he is here for business, and even as John continues to explain the gears are spinning in his head.

He lays out the facts as he knows them - they are out of time. He gives a vague outline of their plans with the phantom, their many years of work, even as John’s brows furrow in thought. There’s an odd reluctance in the set of his shoulders, but Ocelot presses on - the medic had given his life for Big Boss once, the way any of them would, and though Ocelot can’t help but empathise he’ll throw the shell of him in the firing line once again.

The phantom, the hospital staff who directed him today with kind eyes and whispers, the other patients - all of them trivial, if only John could be safe.

And Ocelot, none the wiser.

“Can you keep it up?” John asks, peering at him with one sharp eye, “It’s a hell of a lie.”

The question twists Ocelot’s face into another bitter smile, half-amused and half-resigned.

“It won’t be a lie.” He replies, voice steady, “I won’t know his secret either.”

He doesn’t know how to interpret the way John sighs at him.

Ocelot presses onwards, laying out the rest of the plan - to fool his own mind into keeping Big Boss’s secret, erasing the knowledge he holds close to his heart.

It should be agonising, he thinks, and the way John looks at him is so oddly inscrutable - is it worry that furrows his brow, regret, or mere concentration, he wonders - but Ocelot is nothing but determined.

“All right...John,” he says when he is done, keeping his voice and his heart steady, “I’ve never forgotten you in these nine years, but I have to forget you now.”

It is strange, he thinks, how saying it aloud makes it real - how he suddenly feels unstable, wanting to reach forward but trying to stay professional out in the open, some foolish pride in him not wanting to show another tremor of weakness.

John shifts forward, his stare piercing, and even barefoot and in a hospital gown there’s an impossibly commanding presence about Big Boss - Ocelot doesn’t move.

A hand comes to rest on his cheek, and the thumb that sweeps across his cheekbone is slightly awkward and gentle in a way that Big Boss never is. A fleeting moment, soon to be forcibly forgotten, and yet Ocelot does his best to burn it into his heart.

“Adam,” John murmurs, “I’m counting on you.”

Soon after the truth is revealed to the phantom, Big Boss calls him across the sea.

The adjustment once the self-hypnosis was no longer necessary had been difficult - though the hypnosis itself had not been perfect, the focus on his duty had kept him grounded through the worst of it. After all, his Boss had been right there, and so Ocelot had been where he had always belonged.

But the phantom is no longer real to him. The distance between him and John burns as it never had before, and when the call comes in he goes without a second thought.

Last time he had not been at his side, Mother Base had gone down in flames. Adam would not let it happen a second time.

He is shown to the Boss’s quarters as soon as he arrives, late as it is in Outer Heaven - and how impressively Snake has worked from the shadows, Ocelot thinks as he wanders the halls of their new compound. There are fewer and fewer guards the closer he gets to Snake’s room, and he shakes his head even as he smiles - bold to the point of arrogance, but he’s not sure he can bring himself to remind Snake about security just yet.

After all, the last time they had been truly alone - not phone calls or whispers in hospital rooms or Adam’s warm hand on John’s cold wrist, begging him silently to wake up - was well before the fall of the MSF.

He raps on the door sharply with his knuckles and it is flung open almost instantly. Snake is half-dressed, stepping to the side to let Ocelot in, and Ocelot feels an odd but nostalgically familiar constricting in his chest.

“I came as soon as I could, Boss.” He says, eyes flitting around the sparsely decorated room. He can sense Snake staring at him like a predator and so he turns away, divesting himself of his coat and letting it hang over the back of Snake’s spindly desk chair. He removes his belts and holsters just as slowly, a deliberate show of trust just as much as it is a taunt, and scatters them across the desk.

Snake makes it halfway through Ocelot peeling off his gloves, pale fingers tugging at the red leather, before he speaks.

“Ocelot,” he drawls, and Ocelot feels the burning gaze on his back, “stop playing games.”

The laugh he answers with is nothing but fond - because somehow, in all their years apart, he forgot his Boss knew him just as well, inside and out.

He turns and meets Snake’s gaze before his smile fades, before he can think to temper the affection that swells in his chest and shines behind his eyes, but Snake doesn’t say anything else. He only reaches out, hands warm through the thin polyester of Ocelot’s shirt.

“Did you miss me, Snake?” He purrs as he slots against Snake’s broad frame, letting Snake’s hands work at the buttons of his shirt. Snake huffs a laugh at him, fingers fumbling for a second in their haste, and Ocelot thinks he hears his answer in the silence.

Snake maneuvers him until Ocelot’s knees hit the bed and he falls backwards, pulling Snake with him - and this, Adam thinks, is where he belongs.

I missed you, he doesn’t say, because he knows that John will hear it in the longing way he finally kisses him, even when I didn’t remember that I did.

But these are the thoughts he keeps wrapped up inside himself, tangled like overgrown vines around his heart, and aloud he only sighs as Snake’s fingernails scrape over his back.

He lets Snake fuck him as slow as he likes, as if the moment could stretch into infinity to make up for all the years they’ve missed, his forehead against Snake’s shoulder as hips roll into his and calloused fingers.

Snake’s hand moves to his throat, the sudden pressure on his windpipe stopping just shy of choking, Ocelot stilling beneath the warm constriction.

“The phantom?” Big Boss asks above him, the other hand running up Ocelot’s thigh like a reminder. Ocelot smiles back up at him, unable to help the way it comes out unspeakably fond, bringing his hand up to cup Snake’s face.

“Never,” He rasps, running his thumb over where the eyepatch meets cheekbone, the mark he left on Snake for everyone to see, “I’m only yours.”

The hand on his throat relaxes, John’s lips twitching to almost match the fond smile that can’t leave Adam’s own face.

And you’re mine, Adam thinks to himself, leaning up to gently kiss where his thumb had just been.

The years pass slowly and in the blink of an eye, the phantom taking his place in Outer Heaven as Big Boss finds his in FOXHOUND. Ocelot is wherever and whatever his Boss asks him to be, his purpose leading him ever forward. He goes out on missions when asked but always returns as soon as he can, a force pulling him ever back to where he belongs.

After his return one night he stretches cat-like across Snake’s bed, naked but for the thin sheet that covers his body and resting his head on his arms. As he watches Snake do paperwork at the rickety desk, hair greying and brow furrowed in concentration, he thinks this is what contentment is.

It is fleeting, as all things are.

Outer Heaven falls, and Ocelot feels a slight regret for the phantom - but it was not Snake that died there, and that is what mattered.

Now that Big Boss is presumed dead they spend most of their days in Zanzibar Land, and though it’s not truly what John wanted Adam feels a selfish pleasure in how much of their lives now overlap.

He is always at his Boss’s side, lingering behind his right shoulder to cover for the eye he stole a lifetime ago - or Snake is just behind him, watching as Ocelot tortures their informants just to the brink for all the intel they need, and Ocelot revels in the chance to show off his craft.

He looks in the mirror one morning as they dress and it’s like he’s seeing them for the first time - his own hair was more white now than silver, hairline beginning to recede and wrinkles marring his face, and as he turns his eyes to the reflection of John he wonders when they got so old.

They’ve grown old together, some foolish part of his heart reminds him, only-

“You know, John, it’s been 35 years since Tselinoyarsk.”

Snake snorts at him.

“Getting sentimental in your old age?” It’s still more fond than scolding, and so Ocelot doesn’t snap at him as Snake comes over to run a hand through his thinning hair, “Your hair’s getting longer again.”

“You said you liked it long.” Ocelot says absently, and lets the deflection slide.

“Did I?” Snake asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer, “Come on. I want an answer out of our latest guest.”

Ocelot falls into step beside him as naturally as breathing.

His compliance with John’s every word is his undoing.

He is away when Zanzibar Land falls, despite his unease - after all, John had asked him to go.

He wonders if John had known.

His grief crawls wordless out of his throat, a loss that will shake the world reverberating off the shattered glass in his hotel room.

John is-

It is memory that moves his every step in the years to come.

Ocelot joins FOXHOUND, his machinations beginning to unfold beneath Liquid’s nose, manipulating John’s young clone into playing right into his hands - or rather hand, he thinks, the other replaced with Liquid’s own after his death.

All because of the Patriots - no, all because of John.

The time passes quickly, at least, the years fleeting in the monochrome haze of grief.

The decision to erase himself is an easy one, too. His true purpose is gone, left only with regret in the world he helped create, the warmth that once bloomed behind his ribs cold and withered as he keeps himself going for the sake of Snake’s dream.

He hesitates only briefly over once again erasing his memories of John, the only thing he had left. There were many things he dwelled on that he was alone with his grief, things he wished he had said, had done.

When he was very young, he had wondered if the feeling that crawled through his chest around Snake had a name. Curious, he thinks, how it is only at the end that he has the courage to call it love.

But it is the last necessary step, so he turns himself into Liquid without a second thought.

Ocelot wakes up again on the roof of Arsenal Gear, muscles aching and the heavy pressure of the drugs in his veins, and from the way his heart beats sluggishly he knows he doesn’t have much time. Solid Snake - David, God, he looks so much like his father, Ocelot thinks deliriously, and when a fist slams into his face he feels an odd ache of nostalgia.

It’s 2014, a part of his mind supplies when he finally collapses, fifty years since Tselinoyarsk.

He looks up at the clone of Big Boss, fifty years after love first took root in his heart, and flicks his wrist in a facsimile of a familiar gesture.

“You’re pretty good.” He says, and he means it.

John, I’ll see you soon.

Adam closes his eyes.

#mgs #bosselot #revolver ocelot #big boss #strife writes

28 notes · View notes