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joheun-saram · 3 years

Text

“Is your refrigerator running?” (jjk)

Summary- Who knew the annoying prank calls you were receiving would become the favourite part of your day.

word count- 4.2k

pairing- fratboy!Jungkook x Reader

rating- PG-13

genre- fluff, collegeau

warnings- none! just stupid jokes.

a.n- Part of my drabbles for @btsholidaybingo, ticking off the Prank Calls tile! I’ll be posting these every week or so as I get them done. Check out the other drabbles here :)

s/o to the beautiful @heyitsmeee2 for beta reading and helping me fix the ending! 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

“So how’s your new boyfriend?” Namjoon asked you as you chewed on your fries, almost choking at his insinuition. He laughs at you as he takes a sip of his milkshake, slurping obnoxiously, his eyes widening as he concentrates on the flavour.

“Stop! He’s just a random guy with too much time on his hands! I don’t even know his name! Although...” You stared at your burger, trying to forget what your roommate was alluding to. Two months ago you had started getting phone calls from a stranger. It wasn't something from a horror movie, don't worry. It was harmless. He would call you at random times in the day to ask you silly questions. You don’t know how he even got your number but there was something about his easy going nature and lame jokes that made you want to continue talking to him. Namjoon suspected it was a byproduct of your loneliness, but it was comforting hearing his voice to break through your mundane day to day.

"Hi, is this Y/N?" A deep voice spoke as you picked up the call from an unknown number.

"Yes this is she. Who is this?" You asked as you sat up straighter, your attention diverting from the paper you were writing. You had applied to eight jobs for after graduation and you were sure this was a call for an interview, even though it was 10 pm. Your eyes lit up as you hoped this was the big consulting firm you were waiting to hear from.

"I have a very important question that I was hoping you could help me with."

"Um.. sure go ahead." You fiddled with your pen, scribbling random shapes on your notebook, feeling somewhat nervous. Is this how employers usually talked? Did they do this to build anticipation?

"Is your refrigerator running?"

"I'm sorry what?"

"Is your refrigerator running?"

"Are you calling on behalf of the landlord?" Your voice was flat with disappointment. Surely, this was not an important question. Oh how you wished it was an interview call. You sighed.

"Please answer my question."

"Yes. It's running."

"Then you better go catch it, shouldn't you?"

And with that he hung up and you were baffled. Which decade was this dude from? Who does these lame prank calls anyway and more importantly why does your caller ID not show who it is? Thinking nothing of it, you go about finishing your assignment, albeit slightly aggravated. However, the calls continue. Everyday this stranger would call you with questions, sometimes with a silly punchline but oftentimes even sillier riddles.

"Okay, dude seriously. This is getting annoying." You huffed after a week and a half of receiving calls from the same deep voiced stranger, although you’d be lying if you said his little laugh after he told his jokes was not endearing.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to annoy you." He seemed hurt and you couldn’t fathom why he would be hurt over a comment a stranger made over his prank calls. In fact, you were sure this was some hobby of his and he had a rotation of strangers to bother.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" You don’t know why you were indulging him, but you had to give him props for constantly calling you. It was kind of becoming part of your daily routine.

"Dixie. My name's Dixie." You could hear the mirth in his tone.

"Dixie? Oh I thought you were a dude, my bad."

"I can be a dude and still have Dixie as my name. Jeez, are you a bigot?" He scolded.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean it that way, Dixie."

"That's Dixie Normus to you." He laughed at his joke, every syllable of his laugh separated as if he was a cartoon character.

"Oh my god. You're the worst!" Regardless of your words, you were laughing. Laughing hard enough to have the banana milk you were drinking to snort out of your nose, making you cough. For a moment, you were glad this stranger wasn't in the room.

"Sorry! Are you okay?" You could hear the humour in his words, shading them in anything but an apology.

And so it went, your mysterious caller, who refused to go by anything other than Dixie turned into a somewhat friend, if you can even call someone who you know no personal details about your friend. After a month the phone calls had turned from cringe worthy puns to actual conversations about your day. You had started to look forward to the unknown flashing on your screen, and sharing the mundane details of your day with Dixie.

In two months you learned a lot more about Dixie. He went to your university, he was an avid gamer, he majored in computer science, and apparently it was now part of his daily routine to call you whenever he was cooling down from his workout on the treadmill - explaining the creepy breathlessness of his voice and beeps in the background. Sometimes you had half a mind to go to the university gym during your calls and see your mysterious friend, but somehow you never found the courage. It was nice not knowing what Dixie looked like, not judging someone by their looks but just by the content of their words. There was no room for disappointment.

It also oddly comforted you that you would never meet him and during your nightly conversations you would end up sharing thoughts that you’d be too uncomfortable sharing with even your best friends. Thoughts about the uncertainty you had over graduating soon, thoughts about being sad over failed relationships, even thoughts about your random existential crisis that would plague you mid week. Dixie was empathetic and had a knack for comforting you with small jokes and his own struggles. You would never admit it to Namjoon, but Dixie was slowly becoming your closest friend, even surpassing him to a certain extent.

"You're insane you know that?" Namjoon chided as you talked about Dixie and how you considered him a friend now. Even though Namjoon was your best friend since first grade, he sometimes didn't understand why you romanticised daily events so much. He never understood why you kept giving Dixie the benefit of the doubt, why you kept picking up his phone calls even when you knew it was going to be a lame joke or two.

"I'm not insane Joon! Haven't you heard of pen pals? This is the same thing but with voice."

"Nah. I think it's your crippling loneliness. Which is why we're going to Jin's frat party tonight." Namjoon was not having any of your excuses. So what if your last relationship was a year ago. You and Yoongi were great together. He was the perfect boyfriend and after he went to LA to pursue his music career, you told him you'd wait. Turns out he wasn't on the same page as you since six months after moving, he called you to break things off. He was right though, it would have been stupid to wait for him when neither of you knew when and even if he was ever coming back. It was unfair to the both of you to keep dragging this thing along. But even if Yoongi hadn't been around the last year and a half, you just couldn't see yourself with anyone else. You still missed talking to him every night and sharing your day, laughing at stupid videos together or just listening to him playing the piano through the static line of your phone. Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe you were lonely and the only reason you were so attached to Dixie was because of the way his phone calls had replaced Yoongi's and how you no longer waited at the end of your day staring at your phone waiting for your ex's call but instead you received real actual calls from your voice pen pal.

You sighed agreeing with Namjoon and went home, not exactly looking forward to the party and missing Dixie’s call.

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

Jin's frat was notorious for the wildest parties on campus. It was always a cacophony of drunk students and a pit of hedonism. When Namjoon and you arrived, the party was in full swing and you thanked your best friend for having the foresight of pre-drinking. The bottle of grapefruit soju you had emptied earlier at your shared apartment ensured that you were not put off by the plethora of drunk guys trying to hit on you microseconds after you entered.

Looking for Jin and let's be honest, a little gin as well, you and Namjoon made your way to the kitchen, to be greeted by your tall friend doing a keg stand. Beer dripped down his chin as his fraternity brothers held him up, his feet almost touching the ceiling. As you poured yourself a gin and tonic, Jin climbed down from the keg to a chorus of applause. Much to your chagrin, he walked over, draping his arms around your shoulders and plastering your back with his beer soaked chest.

"Ew get off me you vermin!" You squealed, shivering in the gross feeling, your backless top doing nothing to shield you from your friend’s shirt as he refused to budge.

"Vermin? VERMIN?! I invite you to my house, give you free drinks, and an array of decent dicks to pick from and I'm the vermin?" Jin finally detaches, giving you a scowl as he leans against the kitchen island, pouring himself what you gather is his tenth drink of the night.

"Jin all of these guys are as gross as you. And I've told you I don't need to get laid!"

"Sure tell that to your vibrator working overtime."

"How did you even - " you sputered, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Namjoon, obviously. And before you kill him, there are no secrets between friends and part-time lovers." He winked, making you roll your eyes. Namjoon and Jin had been on and off since the beginning of freshmen year, neither the type for commitment but to your dismay loved to tell you all about their rollercoaster of a relationship. You swear you could write a thesis on dysfunctional relationships using theirs as a case study.

"Ew. Please stop. I don't need to know about you and Joon getting it on."

"Well then let me introduce you to someone so you can get it on." He wiggled his eyebrows puckering his lips to annoy you.

"I know all your brothers Jin and no thank you." You lightly slapped his lips making him groan as he grabbed your wrist continuing his tirade. You’d be lying if you said his frat brothers had never caught your eye - they were famous for their astoundingly good looks, in fact there even seemed to be an instagram page dedicated to people randomly spotting them on campus (@betatauinthewild). However, their good looks did not make up for the fact that they were a bunch of loud fuckboys. You loved Jin and Namjoon and would literally stab anyone who said anything against them but you had to agree that they were the biggest players of the group, finding a new person to bed almost every weekend. That is, unless they were with each other - case and point their dysfunctional relationship.

"Well we have a new brother and he's my little brother. He's a sophomore, he just joined, and he's your type. The whole quiet but nice guy type." Jin continued, ignoring you in typical fashion.

"I don't have a type."

"Please! As if Yoongi wasn’t a cookie cutter tsundere. Come on let me introduce you to him!" He grabbed your shoulder and pleaded, pouting and widening his eyes in the most adorable puppy dog face you had seen him pull.

"Can we not talk about Yoongi please." You sighed. You finished your drink and proceeded to pour another one.

"Yes! Let's talk about JK!"

"Jin... come on. Let's just drink okay?"

"Fine but I'm telling you, you'll get along. He's a great guy."

An hour into the party, you had lost both Jin and Namjoon and were getting tired of Jin’s exceedingly drunk frat brothers trying their pick up lines of the day on you. Your head was hurting from the noise of the party and you were sure if you saw another couple subtly trying to test their exhibitionism kink you were going to puke. So as it was typical for whenever you went to these parties, you started to make your way to Jin’s room. Jin may be loud and obnoxious and being lusted after by pretty much the entire campus, but he was reliable for one thing: he never fucked where he slept. And so his room became a sort of sanctuary for you when these parties would get too much.

You made your way up the stairs almost tripping over two guys who had decided that making out horizontally on the stairs was a good idea - you did not envy how busted their backs would be tomorrow. Punching in the code you walked in to find that there was already someone there, reclined on the bed with his arms behind his head, earphones in, humming gently as he stared at the ceiling. You had never seen him before, but boy did you wish you did. His dark hair was splayed over the pillows, a smile ghosting his full lips. He was dressed in all black, much like you but unlike your lace bodysuit and skinny jeans, he was wearing a boxy back t shirt with ripped jeans, his feet in those questionable toe socks. And he was buff, even though his body was mostly covered you could make out the muscle in his arms, one of which had intricate tattoos etched on to. You’re unaware how long you stared at this stranger, but suddenly he turns his face looking at you. Seeing you there he immediately jumps up, pulling his earphones out, startling you in turn.

“I- I’m sorry. Y-you can’t be h-here,” he stutters out, a soft blush rising up his cheeks as he nervously pulls at his ear.

“I should be saying that to you. Why are you in Jin’s room?” You shut the door, leaning on it, feeling oddly territorial.

“I- Hyung needed my room.” You found the stuttering boy in front of you endearing. Something about how he bashfully stared at anything but you while speaking made you want to hug him.

“Oh my god! You let him into your room? Drunk during a party?” You almost scream, but lower your voice seeing the alarm on his face. Walking over, you sat next to him, a few feet away so as not to make him uncomfortable. “Do you like doing laundry or something?” you joked.

Hearing your question the boy perks up, looking at you with a bright smile that made your heart skip a beat. “I do actually! How did you know?” he asks excitedly. You almost felt bad bursting his bubble.

“I didn’t… It’s just - you know Jin’s probably having sex in there right?” You look at the abject horror on his face in sympathy, so you try to change the subject. “Nevermind. Why are you hiding in here?”

“I’m not hiding. I just got bored. Everyone there just wants to hook up or get blackout drunk.”

“You do realise which frat you’re part of right?”

“I know,” he chuckles, seemingly more relaxed as he lays down on the bed, his feet still on the floor. “I honestly didn’t even wanna join but I’m a legacy so my dad really wanted me to be a part of it, Beta Tau pride and all.”

“Not to be a bitch, but dude you sound like a protagonist of a shitty college romcom,” you laugh looking down at him as he smiles, crossing your legs on the bed as you turn towards him, forcing yourself to ignore how cute he looks from this angle.

“You think you’re being a bitch, but that's a great compliment. I wish my life was a romcom. It’d be so easy…”

“Okay, emo. What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to think it’s dumb.”

“Hey I don’t even know your name! What have you got to lose?”

“Fine. There’s this girl I like and we always call each other… Well I call her.... at this time, but she didn’t pick up. So yes I’m emo, and yes I wish I was in a romcom so I’d go downstairs and randomly run into her.” He looks at you with a sad smile, shrugging slightly, and you feel yourself deflate. Not that you were interested in him or anything. You were sure it was just the alcohol in your system making you feel extra empathetic. Yup that’s it.

“Hey, that’s not stupid,” you say gently. “What if she’s down there did you check?”

“Well… I don’t actually know what she looks like… So, no…”

“Oh then maybe you should call her again! What if she was busy?”

“I don’t wanna be pushy, you know? I’m not even sure she thinks of me the same-”

“YO DIXIE! You in there?” A loud knock booms through the room accompanied by a deep voice. The attractive stranger next to you rolls his eyes before standing up, and at hearing his nickname you feel your heart kickstart, racing as you blink in disbelief. It can’t be…

“Dixie?” you stutter out.

“What’s up dude?” He opens the doors talking to Taehyung, one of the other Beta Tau brothers, as they start talking about something. You can barely hear their conversation, your brain full of scenarios and questions, your face crimson. You never thought you’d meet Dixie in real life. Do you tell him? Do you just run away? Why did he have to be so hot?!

Taehyung notices you on the bed for the first time and in typical fashion starts hollering and high-fiving Dixie. “Damn dude! The president’s best friend! Good for you!” He snickered as Dixie looked at him with his mouth agape, before turning to you. “Ay Y/N. Treat our boy JK well okay? He’s too nice for you!”

“Fuck off hyung!” JK, apparently that’s his name, shoves Taehyung as he grins widely before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and shutting the door, seemingly getting all that he came for.

“You’re Dixie…?” You stare up at him, standing up as you try to control the overwhelming urge to wrap your hands around him. Fuck, maybe Joon was right you did have a crush on your voice pen pal.

“I- Y/N?” He looks at you, mirroring your wide eyes. “The same Y/N I’ve been talking to?”

“Call me,” you almost whisper.

“What?”

“Call me so I know it’s real.” You move closer holding your phone up as he pulls his out of his pocket to dial your number. Your phone rings, displaying a set of numbers instead of unknown for the first time, and the two of you just stare at the vibrating device in your hand. It seems like time stood still, the air thick with tension as your shitty ringtone bounces off the walls. That is until you start laughing. Not giggling, full on laughing, holding your stomach as tears spill down your face, as JK looks at you in alarm, his arms hovering near you as you double over.

“Holy shit! You are the protagonist of a romcom!” You finally wheeze out as you hold his arm for support, while he looks at you with a frown. You’re unsure why this was your reaction, but you recover quickly to start your interrogation.

“So what’s your name Dixie or JK?”

“Jungkook, actually. Dixie’s my gamertag and JK is just what Jin hyung calls me.”

“How did you get my number?”

“Umm… I might have stolen it from hyung’s phone…”

“Why?”

“Because he prank called my friends first.” He spoke with a pout, and you swear your heart forgot to function.

“Why keep calling?”

“Really Y/N? You’re gonna interrogate me?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Keep talking Dixie!” You chuckled as his shy demeanor gave way to the Dixie, well the Jungkook, you knew. It was weird how fast the earlier awkwardness dissipated into comfort.

“What? I thought you sounded pretty! Sue me!” He shrugged, leaning back against the door, his hands in his pocket. Your eyes followed the movement, momentarily distracted by how his forearms flexed. Clearing your throat, you continued as he smirked, not missing the way your eyes seemed to be roaming his body.

“You said you were trying to call the girl you like. So you like me?” You try to sound as matter of fact as you could, but your voice wavered slightly at the last part as you made the mistake of looking at his face. He tilted his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes that were boring holes into you, his smirk getting larger. Oh how you wished he turned back into the boy talking about how much he liked laundry.

“I thought it was obvious. I call you every night.” He stood straight, taking a step towards you causing heat to creep up your face at his sudden confidence. You don’t respond as he moves closer, causing his steps to falter. “Do you like me?” he asks, his voice a little smaller. You’re getting whiplash from the changes in his tone, but his question makes you feel warm. You haven’t felt this way in a long time, there’s butterflies in your stomach, your hands feel clammy, and you’re sure you can feel the heat off his body, so aware of where he stands merely inches away from you.

“I think so…” you move closer and he raises his hand as if to hold your hip but stops, hovering just centimeters away as looks at you, his gaze smouldering.

“What’ll make you sure of it?” he asks in a whisper, and before you can even comprehend the question, you are leaning up on your toes to press a light kiss against his lips. His lips are slightly chapped and you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat through them. Your skin tingles where he brings his hand on your hip, gently holding you. He doesn’t push you further, just leans his forehead on yours when you separate to whisper quietly, “This.”

“And?” His nose brushes against yours as you place your hand on his chest, his pounding heart mimicking yours. He slowly rubs his hands on your hips where they lay, and it’s like your skin is electrified.

“I’m sure,” you say as he crashes his lips on yours, pulling you closer as your arms snake around his neck. His reaction is much stronger this time as he moves his lips against yours feverently. He pulls you flush against him, your body molding against his hard muscles. His hands grip at your hips as he licks lightly at your lip, groaning as they part. It seems like he can’t decide what to do with his hands, roaming them over your sides, relishing the little moan you make as one of them cups your ass. His earlier shyness disappears, and who are you to resist him, as your hands in his hair pull him closer. It’s like everything finally makes sense, why you could never ignore his calls, why your heart raced whenever you heard him call your name through the static of your speaker. You had spent this whole time convincing yourself that he was just a stranger you could vent to when it was clear to you now that you were falling for him.

He whispers your name as you break apart, but his mouth continues down your jaw to your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. His teeth drag across your collarbone, and you whimper at the way he soothes it with his tongue as you press your body even closer into his.

“Hey Y/N! Joon’s looking for you!”

The two of you break apart at the interruption, chest heaving and faces flushed. Looking up at Jungkook, you smile as he looks away shyly, his lip caught between his teeth, before turning to your best friend who is excitedly hopping in the doorway.

“I knew you would get along with JK!” Jin exclaims as you look once again at Jungkook before you both break out in a laugh. Trust Jin to know who you’d fall for before you. He comes up to pat his frat brother on the shoulder before his proud smile turns into a glare, warning the two of you that his room was for sleeping only and abruptly kicking you out.

The two of you giggle as you make your way downstairs, unable to keep your hands off of each other, going from holding hands to hugging to sneaking kisses in the kitchen as you make your drinks. Before the night ends the two of you end up sitting in the backyard, kissing under the stars and planning your first date later that week, even though it felt like you had known each other an eternity.

You had never felt luckier to pick up a random phone call.

#bts fic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #btsholidaybingo #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook x yn

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luvnami · 3 years

Photo

𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 (here) | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - Second part to ‘Ocean’! Hope you enjoy it :> Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife @amjustagirl @aliteama

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares, Relationship Issues (lack of communication), Overthinking/Anxious Thoughts, I criticise Nanami’s choice of clothing

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5k

Nanami decides to enter university and get a degree. He casts a life of sorcery behind and turns a blind eye to curses that peer at him curiously on the street. When you text him and ask about how life is in the city of Tokyo, he replies that it would be much better if you were here with him. You choose to ignore the meaning between the lines and tell him that he’ll do great in university; you’re sure of it!

Truth be told, his parents are more than glad to fund Nanami’s ventures and encourage him to do so. As a result, he finds himself engulfed by the world of rigorous studying. Lectures and tutorials drain his time from morning to evening, not to forget project meetings and whatever the hell ‘socialising’ means.

But campus life is invigorating. He wakes up to the smell of coffee and his roommate singing a foreign song with a catchy tune and has time to enjoy a lovely breakfast before he heads off for morning classes. Everything is done in his own time. No one rushes him to save the lives of innocent civilians, nor does the weariness of a day’s fight linger in his bones.

Quietly, gently. That is how Nanami’s time in university goes by. Writing essays on analysing market trends or a project on that sociology elective module he chose is nothing too tricky, especially when one compares it to sorcery.

He learns to relax, unwinding in the golden hours of the evening with a Murakami paperback and a steaming cup of coffee by his side. Nanami meets new people — people who have never heard what a curse is (though he does find his witchy neighbour intriguing), people who have families at the furthest ends of the earth. Their companionship is refreshing.

You, meanwhile, earn a nice sum from working at Jujutsu Tech. You don’t work directly with curses (something which Nanami is thankful for) and enjoy your time surrounded by nature, treating the younger students with a smile and warm cup of tea.

You and Nanami decide to move into an apartment where the commute is halfway between both schools. It’s a nice change of pace, really. You wake up next to each other in the blinding morning light, still entangled in the cheap (and slightly scratchy) duvet you got on sale. Nanami presses a kiss between your brows. You smile, your hand warm on his skin.

“Good morning, Ken,” you croak as the sunlight frames your face.

You lean forward and place your head against his chest. Nanami’s hand strokes your shoulder lovingly as the both of you make small talk on the day’s events, then laughing when he makes a cheesy (and slightly indecent) joke about what he enjoys eating for breakfast. Your heart soars in your chest, catching the upwind and slicing through the clouds. It feels like heaven.

But the sea does not always remain calm and peaceful. Its tides rise and fall with the waxing and waning of the moon, and waves can come crashing down on boats that dare sail through its treacherous waters.

Nanami buries the constant nightmares of Haibara under his pillow, waking up in the middle of the night with your arms around his waist. He pretends he does not see the curses that linger in the corner of his lecture theatre, nor the ones that stare back in the bathrooms. Nanami slips a pair of spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. His fellow classmates call him intelligent, quiet, but kind.

He wants to believe that, too.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami joins a hedge fund company after graduation.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Ken?” you ask over the table.

The restaurant you had booked for dinner boasts of its month-long waitlists and seasonal menus. You poke at the raw fish that sits on your plate, Nanami holding a glass of amber liquid. He watches its colour swirl under the dim light.

“The pay is good. We’ll be comfortable.”

“I don’t care about money, Ken. I’d rather you do something less stressful and be happier.”

“Let me try it out for a year or so. That can’t hurt, right?”

He smiles, you smile.

Your hand slips into his comfortably over the table, and your eyes meet in silent understanding. You squeeze his hand.

The company changes Nanami. Some things are obvious — the way he now parts and combs his hair back with wax, the pressed suits that line your shared wardrobe, the work phone that buzzes with notifications every minute of the day. Others are more… subtle. He comes home later and later each night, occasionally staying over in the office. His alcohol consumption increases. You spend the weekends alone.

It’s gotten to the point where you’re lucky if you eat dinner with him once a week. You’re busy with your own work, too, but you assume that Nanami would be able to come home on at least the weekends. Your mind begins to drift.

Is there a colleague who wears a skirt too short, a manager who touches his shoulder a second too long? It’s been at least four years since you and Nanami had gotten together, and you still don’t know his stance on marriage or children yet. Does he love you, or does he love his job more?

You fall into a pit of doubt and despair. Perhaps you should have been a lesser burden on Nanami. He spent so many hours taking care of you back then, wearing himself thin between missions, that the idea of him getting tired of being a caregiver to someone who didn’t remember him at all was… possible; reality, even?

There’s nothing original about you, either. Your handwriting is the same as a girl you’ll never remember from middle school, the way you text influenced by the students you work with. Maybe you laugh too loud. Or you’re too fat, too skinny, too quiet, too noisy, too blunt, too shy, too clumsy. So what made him love you? Or was he just in love with a previous version of you that you weren’t now?

It feels like you’re staring into a mirror when you try to remember who you used to be with childhood journals and photographs. The same face, the same body, memories that don’t make sense and a head that has become a blank canvas. A parent’s child, a teacher’s student. Unable to reach past the glass.

You don’t know who you are anymore with how you’ve changed to please Nanami — a person of personalities that switches in the blink of an eye. So why does he still keep you in his rented heart that’s full of other tenants, and under the contact name ‘Dear ♡’? You place the button in a drawer amongst a mess of spare keys, bits of tissue paper and promotional pamphlets.

It’s tiring. Nanami’s head is in the clouds as you share a parfait, and you ask him, “Kento, do you really love me?”.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Of course I do.”

The eyebags that are on his face have been there since two weeks ago. Nanami can’t remember when the last time was when he got a proper night of sleep, and currently, he’s thinking about the new client that-

“Kento,” you interrupt. “You’re exhausted.”

You point your spoon at him for extra emphasis, the tip of it having a dollop of whipped cream.

“Pointing your utensils around is bad manners.”

“Never knew you cared about table manners.”

“Well, now I do.”

You lick the spoon clean and eye Nanami. He returns a tired stare before his gaze falls to the side and he lets out a sigh. He almost wishes that you would stop bothering him about this and let him go back home. There are so many emails he needs to send, and he can’t sit still without checking the stock market every hour or so.

“Do you want to break up?”

The words come easier than expected.

“Huh?! What makes you say that?”

“You seem like you want to.”

“You can’t just assume things like-”

The girls sitting by the next table fall quiet. Nanami thinks that they’re eavesdropping on your conversation; you think so too. You glance quickly at them and they pretend nothing had ever happened, hiding their looks of surprise as they shove spoonfuls of dessert into their mouths.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

You sound irritated. Nanami pays with his card, grabbing his things as you step outside of the cafe first.

“Slow down,” he mumbles and pockets his wallet.

You whip around.

“You can’t just assume things like that, Kento.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

Staring at him, your eyes seem glazed over. Tired, maybe. Tearing up, maybe. Maybe, maybe. Many maybes. Nanami doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what’s been going on with you, actually. You seem distant, out of reach when you’re lying in the same bed as him. Is it the money; is he making enough to make you happy?

Nanami reaches out and tries to hold your hand (when was the last time he had done that?) when his phone buzzes. He retracts his hand and reaches for his back pocket, but you grab his wrist. He looks at you.

“What are you doing? Let go.”

Irritation laces his voice.

“Don’t answer that.”

“Are you crazy? It’s from work. I have to.”

“Work this, work that! You spent the last year basically married to your office and the one time we get to go out together, you want to work?”

Your voice is sharp, slicing Nanami’s hazy conscience. He watches as it pools at his feet, a gust of fresh air tickling his skin. He relaxes his wrist and you pull your hand away. Passersby glance at you briefly before continuing their daily commute, not bothering to give you a second glance.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s okay,” Nanami replies.

The both of you stand in the street, suddenly feeling as if you’ve drifted away from one other unknowingly. Like a boat in the ocean, Nanami rocks with the waves that splash gently on his hull. Everything is blue and vast around him. He can’t see the land.

Nanami thinks about that girl at the bakery. The way she always cried out ‘Come back soon!’ every time he left as if he wouldn’t return a second time. And then he thinks about the clients he serves, all outfits and jewellery that easily cost half his salary. They shove money into his hands, expecting even more in return without a word of thanks.

“Hey,” Nanami says.

He reaches out across the waters and grasps your hand in his. You look up, eyes brimming with tears. He swipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb. Understanding washes over him and he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” Nanami whispers sincerely.

That night, he calls Gojo when you’re safely tucked into bed. Nanami tries to ignore how the older sorcerer cackles at him and hangs up once the call is presumably over on his end. He slips under the covers as you turn over in your sleep, resting against his chest. Nanami kisses your brow.

He gets his first night of good sleep in a long, long time.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami falls back into the rhythm of sorcery. He trains for a good month until he gets his stamina and strength back, obtaining a new weapon from the school for his missions. Gojo seems oddly delighted to see him return, laughing when Nanami’s out of breath from a workout.

“Ken,” you say, wrinkling your nose when he steps out of your shared bedroom. “You’re going to work in that?”

Nanami adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, staring at you.

“Is this not appropriate?”

You observe him from head to toe. The leopard print tie, blue shirt and tan suit — you resist the urge to tell him he’s so close to looking like a pimp. Out of all the lovely suits that Nanami has, he chooses to wear this one?

“It’s a bit bright, that’s all,” you laugh.

“I thought I would go with something eccentric. You don’t get to wear this at the office,” he remarks, striding over to the kitchen to grab your packed lunches.

You remain quiet and fiddle with a loose thread on your own suit jacket.

“Something the matter?”

“Oh! Nothing at all. Let’s go.”

It’s more convenient now since the both of you work at the same place. Nanami drives to Jujutsu Tech every morning and picks you up in the evenings as well. He detests how Gojo makes fun of him for it, calling him a ‘lovely husband’. It makes your cheeks warm, and you duck your head before Nanami can ask you anything about it.

Peace reigns true for a few months. The morning routine is a nice change of pace compared to Nanami’s previous job. You’re able to spend more time together, even to the point of going grocery shopping or watching a movie with takeout on Friday nights.

Nanami relaxes only a little. Compared to office work, this is probably just as bad. First of all, he has to see Gojo almost every day and have him talk his ear off. Secondly, he returns to being the balance between life and death for civilians once more. It’s not a task he enjoys. However, he harbours that the thanks he receives and the lives he saves are a good enough exchange.

Years come and go, as do students of Jujutsu Tech. Nanami sees more dead sorcerers and exorcises more curses. You quietly type away at a laptop, filing their deaths and completing any tasks you’re given from the higher-ups. It seems that life has slowed down once more and you return to a monotonous pace.

You wonder if your relationship with Nanami will progress any further. It’s been close to nine years and yet… nothing has developed beyond living together or the odd weekend date. That’s not to say that you don’t love Nanami. You do, honestly. He treats you well and listens to your occasional nagging to put his stacks of books away, but you want something more. You crave the thought of getting married, to be lawfully his and maybe start a family. But, contrary to belief, Nanami isn’t opposed to it when you bring the topic up over dinner one night.

“Marriage?”

His chopsticks pick off a portion of grilled salmon and he brings it to his mouth with some rice. He chews, swallowing.

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been together for so long, you know? So it kind of seems natural for us to do so.”

Your gut twists nervously. The steam from your miso soup rises silently in the air, wisps of white smeared out at the edges.

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

“Sure, let’s get married.” Nanami says.

You have to physically close your mouth and your eyes are widened in shock. Your heartbeat accelerates that much faster.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, were you serious when you asked me that question?”

Heat rises to your face.

“As you said, we’ve been together and living under the same roof for quite some time. Marriage seems like a plausible idea.”

“Then let’s-!”

“But I have one condition.”

Momentarily, your heart wavers. Nanami finishes the last drop of miso soup in his bowl and balances his chopsticks on top of the porcelain. As usual, his plate and bowls are scraped clean.

“I’ll only get married after I stop being a sorcerer.”

Your face twists in confusion as you try to understand where Nanami is coming from. You don’t get it — didn’t being a sorcerer mean that Nanami faced death everyday and that he should be taking advantage of what time he has left? But, of course, you don’t mean to curse him into an early grave like that. Except… Except that your face visibly falls and Nanami takes notice of it.

“I’d rather not have my life entangled with curses more than it should be. Once we both earn enough money and have a nice savings account, we can retire and go do whatever we want. Besides, I’ll invest. It’ll be more than enough.”

You remain silent and stare at your half-finished dinner. Nanami reaches over the table and takes your hand in his.

“Can you give me some more time, please?”

You don’t reply.

☆*: .｡.

“Did you hear about the new first years?”

“Mm. The one who died, right?”

“Gojo wants me to mentor him for a while.”

Nanami’s hands are positioned on the steering perfectly. His palms guide the car carefully through the steep roads that climb up to Jujutsu Tech. You flip through a checklist of things you need to do for the day.

“Will you be heading out of school?”

“Probably. There’s a scene I need to check out.”

“Stay safe, alright?”

“Of course. You too, don’t forget to have your lunch again.”

Nanami pulls into the parking lot of the school. Leaning over the clutch, he presses a kiss to your hairline. You gently peck his jaw.

“See you tonight. I might not be able to pick you up, so get Nitta to drive you.”

“See you, Ken.”

Nanami watches as you open the car door and step out. You turn back, giving him a wave and smile through the window. He returns the gesture. Once you’re out of sight, Nanami pulls out his phone as he sits in the car. He thumbs through his emails and his Adam’s apple bobs as soon as he sees the confirmation sent to him. A loose sigh worms its way out of his chest. He pushes the door open and steps out.

The rest of the day is spent teaching Itadori Yuuji about the sanctity of being young and simpleminded. Sorcery isn’t child’s play — especially when there are lives involved. He watches as Itadori’s face crumbles at the mention of the transfigured humans. He wants to comfort him, place a hand on his shoulder and tell him that it isn’t his fault.

They have a quick debrief of the situation with Ijichi before parting ways. Nanami shoulders his burden once more, watching as the car pulls away in the direction of Yoshino’s home.

As night falls, Nitta drives you home. She’s chatty, serious about her job and does it well. You smile when she gushes about how lovely Nanami must be at home, and, oh! Do tell him to lighten up at work.

You thank her when she drops you off. As you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex, you make a routine stop by the mailboxes. Junk, bills and… a box? You flip it over to see who it’s addressed to; perhaps Nanami had ordered something online. However, your name is printed neatly across the label.

The first thing you do when you get home is to open the box. It’s small, probably not more than a hand’s breadth in length. Your pen knife slices through the tape cleanly and when you push aside the flaps, you spot two velvet boxes sitting in a mess of paper filler. Your fingers tremble when you pull one of them out and open it.

A silver ring sits in the furrow of a cushion with Nanami’s name on the inside. Your heart skips a beat and you reach into the cardboard to pull out the second ring box. This one is a little larger, with your name engraved on the interior side of the band. It must be Nanami’s, then.

It’s already well past 6p.m. as you dial his number with your lower lip between your teeth. You pace around the house, bouncing on the balls of your feet. What were these meant to be? Promise rings? Engagement rings? You hadn’t dared to slip the one with Nanami’s name engraved onto your finger just yet.

“Hello?”

Nanami’s breathing is laboured. Your heart falls and you stop in the middle of your living room, staring ahead at nothing.

“Ken? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… just a little hurt. It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve called Ijichi to pick me up, don’t-”

“So it is serious, then!” you cry out in horror.

“No, no. I said I’m fine. Look, did you receive the rings yet?”

“I did, but that’s not the point now. Are you safe?”

“I-”

You hear Nanami’s phone clatter to the ground and the thump of his body on the floor.

“Kento?” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply.

☆*: .｡.

You’re seated on the floor of your shared home, an oversized pajama shirt stolen from Nanami’s closet swallowing you. Sunlight pours in through an open window at two in the afternoon and the quiet hum of vehicles outside can be vaguely heard.

Clip, clip, clip.

One hand holds a nail clipper, while the other cradles Nanami’s fingers gently. The blond watches you absentmindedly while you trim his nails. He had insisted he was perfectly capable of doing them on his own, but the glare you gave him made Nanami sink back into the sofa.

He was hurt after a fight with Mahito — the wound on his side made him grimace whenever he stood up, and Nanami found himself relying on you more than he wished to. Thankfully, he had passed out from blood loss and pain but nothing too devastating had happened. That didn’t change how concerned you were about him, though. You try to forget how you had hailed a taxi just to rush back to Jujutsu Tech to see Nanami lying in the sickbay with a blood drenched shirt.

Nanami thinks it’s childish. When was the last time someone had clipped his nails for him? Was it his mother? A warm breeze wrings itself through the window. You run the pad of your finger over the cut edge, feeling for any sharp portions.

Nanami stares at the top of your head. Your fingers feel uncharacteristically soft against his own calloused ones — wielding a weapon in battle wore his palms down at the end of the day. He doesn’t particularly want to admit he likes it.

Nanami is a man of truth. He hates lying, and definitely doesn’t tolerate beating around the bush. But if he spoke as he thought, told you everything he felt about you as often as it came like the wind, how would you react? He clutches his heart in the aching hand of a budding teenager, the fears of facing a cruel world fresh in his mind.

Being a sorcerer means facing death on a daily basis, especially with the increase in curses with modern times. It doesn’t help that with both of you on the field, it means double the chances. Sorcerers never die without regrets.

Nanami wishes he could love you more, let you explore each crevice of his heart without fear of leaving you; being left behind one day. He doesn’t want to curse you if he dies. He doesn’t want to become a burden to you any more than he should be.

Clip, clip, clip.

“Is it too short?”

You glance up briefly at Nanami and brush the hair out of your eyes. He stares down at his fingers and feels them over with his thumb. He shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.”

You nod and move on to his next hand. You’re systematical about it — trimming off most of the grown parts in three portions, then a couple tinier clips to finish the job off. A nail file sits on the ground beside you, the tiles of the floor cool against your bare legs.

“Hey, Ken?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard that there’s a new bakery opposite that popular department store. I was thinking of going to take a look later. Do you want me to get anything for you?”

“Nothing too sweet would be nice.”

“Okay.”

The living room falls back into a comfortable silence.

Clip, clip, clip.

☆*: .｡.

It takes a few more weeks before Nanami is cleared by Ieri to return to regular sorcery work. He tries to rest in the downtime he has, he really does — but the itch to get up and finish Mahito off has him restless.

At this, Gojo sends Nanami and you off to Hamamatsu on another curse investigation for a change of scenery. Gojo doesn’t want to admit it, but he had mumbled to you something about taking care of Nanami’s mental health. Maybe the beach would help? You told him he sounded like a doctor from the 20th century. You’re not one to refuse a free trip outside of Tokyo, though, so you and Nanami pack your luggage and troop off to Hamamatsu on the Shinkansen.

“Thank you.”

Nanami’s fingers curl around the ice cream cone handed to him, the sun scorching his back. It’s too hot for this; for anything, really. He makes a mental note to give Gojo a good stare of disapproval once he returns to school.

Why did the mission have to be on the warmest day of the year? With how the heatwave makes perspiration trickle down your back, though, the dangers of facing a possible special grade curse is the least of your worries right now.

“It’s so hot!”

You eagerly lap at the soft serve, savouring the cold, sweet treat. Nanami wanted to take a photo of the ice cream, but- oh well, you’ve begun eating, and the horrendous heat would have probably melted it before he found a good angle, anyways.

Protected by the shade of a shopping district, Nanami and you had agreed to find refuge for a few hours — the curse could wait till the sun began to set. Besides, it would be more likely to turn up after dark.

“How does yours taste, Ken?” you ask and peer over at his cone.

He had gotten a cookies and cream flavoured one, despite how you egged him on to try out the local eel flavour. Nanami was not going to ruin his taste buds just like that, thank you very much.

“It’s alright,” he says, licking traces of ice cream off of his lips. “Could do with a little more cookie.”

“Wanna try mine?”

You stick your cone into Nanami’s face. He’s greeted with your half-eaten soft serve, where your tongue has made a path of its own against the original swirl. He eyes you carefully and you offer the cone to him once more.

“That’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, Ken! We’ve kissed before, sharing saliva on ice cream is nothing compared to that.”

Heat rushes to his face, though Nanami assumes a composed facade. He blames it on the weather without hesitation. Not wanting you to tease him anymore, he leans forward and nips a tiny portion of your ice cream off of the tip.

“Yummy, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

“Want to try mine too?”

The words leave his lips on reflex. Nanami wonders when he’s begun letting you try his food — when he used to be so adamant that no one could even touch its container or look in its direction (thanks to Gojo’s greedy fingers). You nod excitedly and lick off of a portion.

“It’s good!”

What was the first time he had said it to you? Over oden in the winter; over those disgustingly sweet slurpees you insisted on from 7 11? All those small moments that had built up culminated in Nanami’s affection and understanding towards you. The way in which you offer him a bite of your food without expecting anything in return; is that what love is like?

“You’ve got some ice cream on your face,” Nanami says.

You instinctively use your tongue and try to clean it off. “Did I get it?”

Nanami shakes his head. “It’s on this side,” he replies, pointing a spot on his own face.

You try again, to no avail. Nanami sighs.

“What would you do without me?” he asks monotonously, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it off.

You stand there, frozen for a second when he leans in. His promise ring is cold against your cheek.

“Kento?” you whisper.

Under the light of the shining sun, he presses his lips to yours, shielding you from warm rays and the glances of passersby with his back. You let out a muffled sound of surprise as you taste cookies and cream, your eyes fluttering shut instinctively.

Nanami isn’t a fan of public affection. God forbid Gojo see him kissing you, really. But as he leans back and watches your half-lidded eyes stare up at him, he asks himself if you’ve ever received his own sort of love in return.

A relationship’s all about give and take; but has he given as much as he should have? Has Nanami loved you in a way that matters? Life is a fleeting concept to all sorcerers. Should he die and leave you behind, Nanami wonders if he would pass without any regrets. Did he do enough when he tugged the covers over your shoulders when you fell asleep on the sofa, was there more he could have done even after buying you that watch you had eyeballed for the past few months?

There’s that sort of incompetence that curls up in his chest on sleepless nights, even with you tucked into his side. It makes his head spin and his heart fall into a bottomless pit. With all the eyes of juniors and students that look up to him, Nanami can’t help but wonder if he’s truly as good as everyone thinks he is. Being a sorcerer holds little problem. But what about a lover, a husband?

He couldn’t save Haibara, so how dare he think about…

“Kento,” you swallow. “Ken?”

Nanami snaps out of his daze. “Huh?”

“I dropped my ice cream,” you whisper.

He swivels his head and spots your cone face down on the sidewalk. His own cone drips down his hand, the melting liquid staining the sleeve of his suit. For once, Nanami’s mind runs blank.

“Kento? Are you okay?” you ask gently.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Mm?”

Nanami’s careful to avoid the pool of melting ice cream as he steps closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Your breath hitches as his cologne invade your senses.

“I love you. Let’s get married.”

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thethreemages · 3 years

Photo

*jfc, my dumb self kept forgetting to post this here after already debuting her on my DA, hhh -.-;*

-Buuuuut yeah, after a long time coming and thinking... I’ve decided to do a complete revamp to one of the oldest members of the main cast (*that I’ve sadly left a lil neglected overtime compared to my other characters* :c), iss Rosabel~ 💕

Hope you all enjoy her new debut! This lil flower child was def in due of an update after all this time, so I had alot of fun putting some more “life” back into her with her upcoming new character role in the story~ 😊 Enjoy!

~(Bio Info Below)~

Rosabel Espinosa (age 18) is an Earth Mage who had quite a promising life going for her back in the days of St. Ravilda's. A straight-A student, class representative, nudged to make it big with the popular kids by her social circle back home... Rosabel was surely fit to become a truly respectable Mage within her own right, as many were sure to think. And indeed, her power to enchant the planet's natural plant-life was quite admirable to see on the field... so, with so many good things going for miss Rosabel... what else could she have asked for? ..Well, in truth... a part of Rosabel truly wasn't as confident as she'd try to play herself off as... as back at home, it was quite a "difficult" house to return to with how distant her parents were in their own social-climbing world. Nothing ever seemed enough for them to be as content with having enough wealth to sustain themselves as a family... no, to truly be "up there" to the big guys was their biggest dream above all. And they made sure to always remind Rosabel of that whenever she "dared" to do as much as come home with a slightly lower grade, forgot to turn in certain assignments from too many all-nighters, or even so much as told-off any of her "dear" popular friends for being nosey lil jerks to her when others' backs were turned. No, she just had to live up to her name as the most "perfect little rose", in their eyes... naturally, leading to Rosabel in question to develop more of a snarkier, uptight shell to others as time went on... Still... even for all of Rosabel's constant schedules at school, even she knew that she needed some form of break from all the pressures... so, curiously one day of seeing a flier to help kickstart up the Ravilda Drama club again, it piqued her interest enough to maybe give it a try. And wouldn't you know... a certain other mage was just as keen to join the club too, in the form of none other than miss Prym Fletcher. You see, ever since the start of their Ravilda school days... there was always something about Prym that always drew Rosabel in to want to compete with. With how she was just so calm, smart, pretty and powerful with all that dark magic? Rosabel would be lying if she said that didn't "stir up" some things in her... of which she insisted meant nothing more than a "challenge" to outdo the young goth in any way she could. And of course, Prym... always being the sly one for a "challenge", was amused enough to accept these lil games which would soon lead to plenty more "back-and-forth" even well up on the stage. Definitely made their plays performed all the more entertaining to watch by certain crowds... and for once, hearing their genuine compliments in both hers and their other club members' performances actually started to make Rosabel feel... "at peace", for once. Little by little, she was relaxing up in her school assignments to not worry so much about good grades... grew patient enough to let other students get the chance at council decisions for once, and even didn't really hang out much with the popular crowd anymore compared to her actual, "true" friends over in Drama Club. Even Prym, as much as Rosabel was still too huffy to admit upfront... turned out to be alot more fun and friendly to be around whenever they actually had some chill moments between shows. Yet... sadly, by the time graduation came around and Prym's group wasted no time heading out to start their Traveling Mage lives, certain feelings were left unsaid on both parties... and now Rosabel was left to pick up the pieces back at her family home, as she hadn't really found the time to think of what she wanted to do for herself... And... for once, things seemed like they were going to be okay... her parents were alot calmer now, their funds were stabilizing, and many were looking to have Rosabel potentially "intern" with them after hearing of all her potential at Ravilda's. All leading up to one fateful night when... low and behold, a young rich man by the name of "Lord Zoras" was all too eager to meet up with Rosabel after his and her parents started to befriend one another over tea. As much as this man was already giving her nerves... Rosabel did her best to remain respectful and even accepted a little dance with him to be polite. All was fine, really... ...until Zoras got too bold in his advances, and Rosabel (being someone who never really "liked" guys in that way to begin with) got so panicked that she smacked him away with a boost of her own magic... causing many stunned looks among the now silent ballroom. Following an even more tense ride home... things only escalated further when her parents started to berate their daughter for "embarrassing" them in front of not just their social group, but also such a "powerful" man as this Lord Zoras. Now knowing the true extent of her parents' greed, and how little they truly cared for her after all this time... Rosabel tearfully made the decision to pack up all she could, sneak out when they weren't looking... and never again look back on the house she once called "home"... From that point, Rosabel spent the next couple of days laying low in trying to leave town... not having much of a goal of exactly where to go among all these mixed, whirlwind emotions. Somehow, she managed to find her way back to the garden areas of St. Ravilda's... deciding to hide out there by some of the sheds until Professor Ramon managed to find her sneaking with some leftover food. As much at it pained her at first to have gotten caught in such a position... seeing the genuine look of concern in Ramon's eyes caused her to break down in confessing what she was going through, and how little she knew what to do with herself now that everything was "ruined"... Ramon... himself relating to Rosabel as he too was in a "similar" position of societal pressures so long ago... was able to comfort her the best he could as he offered to help take her in for the time being, and even offering to the other teachers to give Rosabel some kind of position at the school to keep herself occupied. With enough thinking over and some suggestions by those like Professor Nile and even librarian Capella... Headmaster Auran offered Rosabel the chance to train as an "apprentice" to any number of the current teachers at the school, whilst looking after the younger generations of students who may need some "chaperones" within their own projects. Indeed, it was quite an adjustment to get used to for the young girl... but with enough patience, time, and caring guidance by the other faculty... Rosabel was able to once again relax, and feel content that she found a safe place to truly call "home", once again. ...Still, there may be some days where she thinks back a bit to her former Drama Club members, how they might be doing... and especially of what a certain Dark mage may be up to all the way out in Terra... but well, with all that she's gathered in the safety of Ravilda's welcoming her back, Rosabel prefers to remain content with what she has now... and to make sure she upholds to the promise she made to the Headmaster in always being there to protect and guide her fellow students on the promising paths of Magehood. Even if certain mischevious royals and rich kids tend to make said job a little "tricky" to keep up with sometimes...

#the three mages #my art #rosabel espinosa #other mages #side mages #my OCs #st. ravilda's #st. ravilda faculty #yeeee she's finally here at last~#(again I *did* mean to upload her around the same time as my DA upload buuut tumblr was lowkey being a butt with pic uploads =.=; )#(wouldn't even load up the submission page after 20+ refreshes smhhh)#buuut it worked now thankfully so YAY heres our flower girl~ <3

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the-evil-authoress · 4 years

Text

GX Month Day 6: “Going Down With The Ships!”

You know what I’m talking about. We all have an armada parked in the bay, but there’s that one ship, that one ship, that you would die for. Today is all about OTPs and OT3s!

Wanted to do something for Fianceshipping too (cuz it it still very dear to me), but I’ll admit my Idol headcanons are a little more in depth.

“So what clubs are you thinking about joining?”

“Definitely music if they have one!” It’s the first week of middle school and Atticus practically vibrates as he walks towards the cafeteria with his new friend. New school, new people to meet, friends to make, and fun adventures to be had! And Atticus fully plans to make the most of it! “Or maybe track. Man, I’d love if there were a surfing club!”

Tashiro laughs. “This far inland?”

“You never know! I could try to start one!”

“Just joining the swimming club if you wanna play in water that badly.” Tashiro shakes his head, and Atticus gasps at him.

“For shame! How dare you compare the art of surfing to swimming! It’s like apples and oranges!”

“Still both fruit.” A cheeky grin.

Any further dramatic protest dies in his throat as another boy rounds the corner ahead and walks toward them with an open book. Atticus freezes where he stands.

He likes to people watch, so he’s noticed things recently. Girls have always been pretty, but lately...well, just this last week, he’s found himself comparing who looks better in their gym outfit like huh you’re kinda pretty wait that’s a dude or oo that shirt really shows off your muscles nice. It’s been confusing to say the least.

“Tenjoin?” Tashiro calls, but Atticus can’t bring himself to answer with his eyes glued to quite possibly the best looking person he has ever seen in his life please shove me against a locker and wreck me.

The guy passes, seemingly oblivious to Atticus’ eyes following him, and Atticus finally, finally peels his eyes away and snaps his jaw shut. How wrecked does he even look right now? Is he blushing? He’s gotta be blushing. Well, one thing is for sure.

“I’m not straight,” he croaks.

“Dude, what?”

The docks are peaceful. The sound of the waves lull Zane’s mind and emotions into a tranquil silence, not the buzzing numbness he’s learned to carry with him to combat the chaotic tempo from a life of stress. Out here, with the smell of salt on a gentle breeze, he feels relaxed.

It will be graduation soon.

He always thought they would graduate together.

Atticus’ disappearance hit Zane harder than he would have expected. The boy was practically sunshine incarnate when they met in middle school, something Zane never thought he’d be comfortable with. And yet Atticus barreled through all his defenses in a matter of weeks of and they’d been best friends ever since.

“Hey. I thought I’d find you out here.”

Zane turns at the sound of the voice. Atticus walks down the dock with a friendly wave and gentle smile on his lips. It’s not the same sunshine-and-rainbows smile it used to be, but it’s honest.

“So, nearly the big day, huh?” He leans casually against the light post. “You nervous?”

“It’d be stupid not to be,” Zane scoffs, relaxing into the familiar banter in a way even the ocean waves can’t induce.

Atticus laughs and sound warms Zane. His friend’s eyes are still haunted, but they’re also still just as warm as they’ve always been. Zane isn’t as oblivious as Atticus might want to believe; he sees the way Atticus looks at him, has looked at him for years. The emotions in those brown eyes have evolved, but the core of it all stays the same.

Atticus “the ladies man” fell for another man. It’s almost funny. He’s not even that subtle about it. But Atticus had never pressed the matter, and Zane can’t say he minds.

“Gotta admit tho, I’m kinda sad.” Atticus lowers his eyes to the wood under his feet. “Always thought it’d be the three of us, you know?” Shrugging, he lifts his gaze to the dark sky.

Zane does know. “You still don’t remember what happened?”

Atticus shakes his head. “If I did, I’d tell you. I have a feeling not telling you is what led to all of this.”

Zane doesn’t bother answering that. He’s fairly certain Atticus knew something about Yusuke’s disappearance at the time, but Atticus became edgy, evasive, and almost distant before his own disappearance. Zane blamed himself for doing nothing despite the warning signs. Now, he knows enough to doubt he’d have been able to do much.

He still wishes he’d tried.

“It’s fine,” he says automatically.

Atticus snorts. “Liar.”

Warm solid arms wrap around him and Zane leans into it.

“Nothing about this is fine,” Atticus’s voice shakes.

No, but sometimes one needs to pretend in order to survive.

It’s tiring.

They stand there like that for a while in the peaceful ambiance of the sea until finally making their way back to the dorms.

“Hey,” Atticus says, pulling them to a stop outside the doors. He looks troubled. “Just this once,” he murmurs, tugging on Zane’s jacket as he presses their lips-

What the fuck?!

By the time Zane’s brain reboots itself, Atticus has already run off into the building, and Zane stands there, hand to his lips, severely confused and reevaluating the last six years of his life.

Zane books a different trip from the island than the rest of his fellow graduates, he doesn’t want to feel cramped in the same space as dozens of other people, so the farewell fanfare has moved on as well. It’s just him and docks, and that’s how he likes it most days.

The quiet gives him space to think.

Just this once, Atticus said, and Zane’s not sure if he’s okay with that. If he’s completely honest with himself, Atticus is one of very few - if not the only - people that Zane feels comfortable and related around. He’s well grounded and practical under that playboy attitude of his, and he’s, well...Zane can understand to a certain extent why half the student population wants to fawn over him (not why they do - that is a level of impulse Zane can’t comprehend - but why they want to).

“Hey~!”

Speak of the devil. Zane jolts out of his thoughts as Atticus jogs over, waving his arm excited.

“Geez! Were you gonna leave without saying goodbye?” Atticus pouts dramatically. “I thought I was your bestie!”

“Who else would be?”

“Exactly! No one but me can crack that cold, stoic shell of yours!”

Zane rolls his eyes.

“Hey! That’s the part where you’re supposed to laugh! Damn, I must be out of practice...”

“Atticus,” Zane says, and the other teen looks up from his mussing to give Zane his full attention.

Now or never.

Steeling himself, Zane takes the plunge. He has zero idea what he’s doing but Atticus should get the message regardless if he mimics the other’s action from a few days ago. His brain doesn’t short circuit on him this time, thank gods.

“I don’t want it to be ‘just once’.”

Atticus stares at him like a deer in the headlights. Zane...expected something more. He expected Atticus to squeal or squeeze him or something, but all that comes in a shuddering breath and HOLD ON WAIT BACK UP WHY YOU ARE CRYING?!

“I- damnit you’re graduating I’m such an idiot!”

The carefully constructed I’m okay, nothing’s changed facade breaks apart in front of him and for the first two seconds Zane spirals into PANIC before the word vomit makes sense and drags him out of it.

“It wasn’t you.” Zane pulls the shaking mess against him. “You’re not that subtle. I’ve known for awhile. I just...refused to acknowledge it.”

“And then I was gone for two years.”

“Worse two years of my life,” Zane admits, and surprisingly means it, despite all the other bullshit. “I didn’t...expect this reaction.”

“I didn’t think I was going to cry either!” Atticus angrily swipes at the tears in his eyes. “Do you know how many times I fantasized about this? Crying was not part of the equation!”

“At least I know it’s honest.”

“Huh?”

“You fake your smile half the time.”

Atticus huffs. “It’s just how I cope.”

Pretending to be okay will break you, Zane could say, but that would just be hypocritical. He ruffles Atticus’ hair instead and revels in how Atticus leans into it.

“I’m glad tho,” Atticus whispers, then looks shyly up through his bangs. Shy is never a word anyone would associate with Atticus, but Zane knows better; he’s one of the few who gets to see that more vulnerable side. “Can you kiss me again?”

Zane obliges. Atticus’ lips are warm and soft, his face still damp, and it still sends tingles through Zane’s own lips down his chest. Butterflies? Huh, so that’s what it feels like. He could definitely get used to this.

Atticus smiles when they part, a small, gentle curve that Zane knows is genuine. “Next time, I want you to wreck me.” He winks.

Wreck what...? Oh. Snorting, Zane hides his face in his hand. Gods, this guy... “Next time. Sure.”

Halfway across the dock, Syrus stands frozen midstep, turns around, and walks away. Zane probably didn’t wanna see him anyway. What the fuck was that?! Nope, not gonna ask, none of his business. Zane can kiss whoever the frick he wants. Just keep walking.

And if Syrus feels the ghost of arms around his shoulders, he stubbornly ignores it.

#gxmonth2020 #idolshipping #zane truesdale #ryo marufuji #atticus rhodes #fubuki tenjoin #tiny bit of fantasyshipping at the end #gx #ygo gx #ygogx #yugioh gx #yugiohgx #yu gi oh gx

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pyrrhicwildfire · 4 years

Text

※DO NOT REPOST / HOST MY WORK ON OTHER APPS OR SITES

Song: Hozier - NFWMB

AO3

----------

Another mission accomplished quickly, Shouto thinks to himself, quietly pleased as he hands over one of the criminals they’d been chasing to the police. While there were days that he appreciated a challenge, he didn’t particularly like them when they meddled with his day-offs and dinners with his partner.

“Good work!” Kaminari says, grinning when he holds up a fist to him.

Shouto bumps his fist against Kaminari’s own with a small smile. “Good work.”

“Oi,” another rough voice says from behind him.

He turns, smile softening when his gaze meets with Katsuki’s. He takes quiet note of the few fresh scars scattered all over Katsuki’s arms from the earlier chase, reminded once more on how beautiful he is in his fierceness. Even the casual way he hands over the criminal he’d caught (the leader, it seems) speaks of power, what with the intense shaking of their pupils and body despite the absence of physical damage on their person.

(Interesting, how minimal the damage he leaves when people only see him as a man made for destruction.)

Shouto asks, “The civilians?”

“Fine,” Katsuki says bluntly.

“Oh, you got their wallets?” Kaminari asks this time. Shouto looks down, nodding in understanding when he finds Katsuki picking out wallets from inside his pockets to hand over to another police officer. It’s a skill he remembers seeing from their first time working together too. Kaminari adds, “Damn, you’re quick with your hands! Here I thought those got exploded too.”

Katsuki scoffs, “I’m not an amateur.”

“Pick-pocketing isn’t a hero skill, though?”

“And being a walking taser is?” Katsuki deadpans.

“Hey!”

“Whatever, I’m gonna get the damn paperwork,” Katsuki grunts, not bothering to say anything else as he turns around and away from them. Shouto watches as he heads over to one of the nurses on stand by, who smiles pleasantly when he notices the hero heading his way.

Katsuki doesn’t seem to have realized it yet, but he’s made a reputation for himself with the people he’s worked with over the years.

To the ignorant public who’ve only ever heard of him when he was still a newbie, he would always be the bad boy of UA. First impressions, especially strong ones, tended to last— more so for people who were narrow-minded in their beliefs that humans couldn’t change.

To the people who’ve worked with Katsuki during and after missions, however, he’s the pro hero who made the least amount of problems when it came to arrests, paperwork, or rescue.

He has a lot of bite with his bark, to be certain, but he wasn’t one to give people any inconveniences where he could do his duty properly.

“Man,” Kaminari begins, catching Shouto’s attention again, “I’m still surprised that you’re the two who got together first out of everyone in the class.”

“Is it that surprising?”

“Pft, yeah,” Kaminari says, laughing. “Looking at you is like looking at opposing halves of a magnet, though I guess that’s why you’d be attracted to each other. Opposites attract!”

“I don’t think we’re that different, though,” Shouto say, brows furrowing a little in confusion. They were both honest people, often to the point of disconcerting frankness, and Shouto appreciated having that similarity with him. It was infinitely preferable in comparison to people who liked to be roundabout whenever they speak.

“Uh, yeah you are,” Kaminari says with a raised eyebrow, his tone telling of his disbelief. “You’re pretty calm and he’s not.”

“Katsuki just likes being loud to intimidate people. I think he’s calm on average.”

“Huh. Well, you see him more often than I do after graduation, so maybe that’s true lately,” Kaminari concedes. “But he’s still as aggressive as ever whenever we meet up, just like when we were students. Like with the school concert...though I guess he was pretty cool then! He’s ridiculously good at too many things, it’s almost unfair.”

“It’s admirable,” Shouto agrees, working on melting the ice he’d made as a blockade while speaking with Kaminari. “Katsuki puts a lot energy into everything he does that he feels is worthwhile, and boldly dismisses things that aren’t worth his time. I’ve always liked that about him.”

Kaminari doesn’t say anything for a second, which gains him a questioning look from Shouto.

“Oh my god, you’re so biased,“ Kaminari finally says, laughing out loud for some reason Shouto can’t seem to place. What was so amusing about what he said? Kaminari goes on, “I’m surprised! I didn’t think you’d be the one who’d get this soft just from being in love. Bakugou doesn’t look like he’s changed at all even now.”

“Soft?” Shouto asks.

“You know, head-over-heels in love,” Kaminari explains. He adds when Shouto only frowns bemusedly at him, “Obviously fond? Man, there were so many girls who liked you back when we were students, and now look at you. Then again, Bakugou was pretty well-liked too, for some reason...I guess his face was still good, even if he’s got a vulgar mouth.”

Shouto hums, not quite agreeing nor disagreeing. Kaminari would probably laugh even more if Shouto admitted that he liked Katsuki’s mouth as it was.

“What did you like about Bakugou?” Kaminari asks, tone so casual that Shouto understood it wasn’t a casual question at all. “No one ever knew how the two of you happened, and Bakugou won’t talk about it whenever we get him to hang out with us.”

“Maybe he’s quiet about it for a reason,” Shouto says dryly.

Kaminari doesn’t seem to pick up on the implied rejection in his tone when he goes on to insist, “Still, a guy gets curious! You’re pretty attractive, and a lot of people like you; anyone would wonder what put Bakugou at the very top that you’d pick him out as a boyfriend from everyone else!”

Shouto frowns as he clears out a big chunk of the ice blockade he’d made. “It isn’t enough that I love him?”

Kaminari falters at that. He looks oddly pink in the cheeks, kind of like how Katsuki would look whenever he’s caught off guard by his muttered praises. Kaminari mumbles, “That sounds so weird coming from you, not gonna lie. Not in a bad way, just kinda unexpected.”

Shouto shrugs. “That’s how I feel.”

“I mean, yeah...”

Shouto sighs to himself. Kaminari seems more likely to give up if Shouto says his reasons bluntly, so he may as well. He glances over to Katsuki to check if he’s done, before turning his head away when he finds that he’s still occupied. He says, “I like his unabashed fierceness and sincerity.”

“Eh?”

Shouto goes on, “The way Katsuki doesn’t back down for anyone appeals to me. I like how much passion he has for anything and everything that matters to him. His determination is amazing. Even his stubbornness, while it can be frustrating at times, is praise-worthy in how unwavering it is. His sense for justice is so incorruptible that it could leave anyone in awe.”

“Wow,“ Kaminari mutters, blinking at him in shock.

“Mostly, though,” Shouto says, voice trailing off as he considers to what extent he can be honest with his answer.

“Mostly..?”

Shouto finishes melting the last ice blockade in their way, and says, “I like how Katsuki has the power to destroy me inside and out, yet chooses not to because he loves me.”

“...what?”

“Oi, what the hell are the two of you talking about?”

Kaminari screeches at Katsuki’s sudden presence. “B-Bakugou!”

“Katsuki, you’re done?” Shouto asks, smiling when Katsuki’s footsteps take him closer to them. He’s all patched up now, fresh wounds covered with bandages. Shouto hazards a guess that the nurse from earlier outstubborned him into getting treated before he left. “Is it time to go home?”

“Yeah, I’m done,” Katsuki says, though his easy answer doesn’t distract from the way he’s eyeing Shouto askance. “You were talking about me,” he says bluntly.

“Not everything is about you,” Shouto says.

Katsuki rolls his eyes at him.

“I can read your mouth from a mile away and saw you say my name. Don’t be obtuse.”

“Yo, Bakugou,” Kaminari interrupts, grinning when Katsuki turns his head to give him a glare. His attempt at being nonchalant doesn’t carry across quite as well when his grin is as lopsided and twitchy as it is, though Shouto admires how he tries. “We were just talking about how much Todoroki loves you!”

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Hey, I’m being honest!” Kaminari complains, flapping his hands wildly. “It’s rude that you don’t trust me! I’m your buddy too, you know!”

“It’s true, he asked me why I chose you,” Shouto says honestly, smiling at the squinty-eyed gaze he gets in response. “And I said that it’s because I love—”

“Go get treated before you say anything stupid that I already know,” Katsuki says, cutting him off. “Your ice won’t heal those scars, dumbass.”

“Alright,” Shouto agrees easily, before heading off in the direction Katsuki had come from to find the nurse on duty. Katsuki’s brusqueness belied his concern, Shouto knew; it was cute, though he didn’t say that lest Katsuki take back his plan to make cold soba for dinner.

Where others found something terrifying in Katsuki for reasons varied in shape (his loudness, his aggressiveness, his explosive quirk, his brutal honesty— these things, among others, were often cited as things to dislike him for), Shouto saw someone to love. Not because he never sees his flaws, nor because he ignores the viciousness almost natural to him...

...but because he sees those fearsome things, and understands that they’re parts of him to love too.

(Still, if there’s one thing to fear, it was Katsuki’s capacity to promise things.

Things like “no cold soba for a month.”)

------

“Not to be overly nosy or anything,” Denki says, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve as he tries to hide the way he’s surely eyeing Bakugou oddly. He can’t exactly help it; Todoroki’s words to him before Bakugou called to them were strange! He goes on, “But Todoroki said something that stuck with me, about you.”

Bakugou gives him a blank look. “What’d he say?”

“Something about why he loved you..?”

“Spit it out already, Sparky,” Bakugou says, nose flaring as he huffs out a breath. “I’m getting impatient over here.”

“He said that he liked that you have the power to, uh, destroy him inside and out..?” he begins, before continuing in a rush, “And that he liked how he knew you wouldn’t do anything to him anyway, even with that...I’m just wondering why he’d say that?”

Bakugou was a good guy, for all the time he’s known him. Kinda insensitive a lot of the time, and pretty brash, but Denki had always trusted that he’d make a great hero.

That’s why, he couldn’t help but be bothered with Todoroki’s explanation about loving Bakugou.

Bakugou frowns at him. His glare looks like he’s considering how stupid Denki’s words are, even when he’s not the one who said those things in the first place.

Then, Bakugou says, “Isn’t that obvious?”

Obvious?

What could be obvious about that?

“I don’t see what’s obvious about it, man,” Denki answers. “You’re telling me this isn’t news to you?”

“Why the hell would it be? Isn’t that what love is?”

“...eh?”

Bakugou gives him another pitying look, which is totally uncalled for! He has no right to look that condescending when anyone else would be confused in Denki’s place!

“Even books talk about shit like this, dunce face,” Bakugou says, looking impatient. “Aren’t you basically giving someone the power to fuck you up when you love them without being half-assed about it? You trust them with everything that you are— an idiot would be terrified if they had no sense of commitment in the first place.”

Denki gawps at him.

In other words, what Todoroki meant was:

Because I love Katsuki, I’ve opened up my whole heart to him, knowing that he could hurt me for it. But because he loves me too, I trust that he won’t do that to me.

“Damn,” Denki whistles, wearing a smile in understanding. “You guys are perfect for each other. I doubt I’d see anyone else who could match either of you with that kind of intensity.”

Bakugou scoffs at him.

“No shit. Now go get treated, idiot.”

#todobaku #tdbk #todoroki shouto pov #kaminari denki pov #fanfic #my writing

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bluealmondpie · 4 years

Text

haikyuu!boyfriends!

ho ho ho me and my love for side characters has struck again~ the coaches are all so underrated and it is not fair so here is some love for our wonderful swan coach

bf!akira (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

* the picture of reliability

* this man knows. he is observant to details

* totally can tell when you're angry or upset or excited. he pays a lot of attention.

* i imagine he would be nervous on the first date, and it might b a lil over the top? a nice restaurant and an uncomfortably dressed (see: formal) akira with flowers. it's adorable (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

* he is easy to tease. cute reactions. he usually will gently rebuff after being surprised or shocked, but he doesn't mind on the inside. actually it's q obvious he doesn't mind so you can keep teasing him if u want he will tease you back, and it's an enjoyable sort of push and pull

* nowadays dates are more chill, usually hanging around his apartment (you've practically moved in at this point) cooking, watching movies or reading together

* akira is p laid back. a little short of happy go lucky, he goes with the flow most days. his easy going nature makes your relationship really comfortable. it's such a cute little relationship filled with domestic scenes and just so... simple and sweet ugh.

* imagine: he's late home because of volleyball practice. he comes back to see you asleep on the couch with lukewarm pudding on the table, and just softly smiles. the tiredness melts away. he puts the pudding in the fridge and gently lifts you up to move you to the bedroom. akira? you mumble, your eyes fluttering open. mm i'm back, he says softly. rest, i'll join you in a bit. you pull him closer and he kisses your forehead to seal the promise as he places you under the covers. he washes up quietly and slips in next to you, and you curl into his chest. he wraps his arms around you and closes his eyes. you both drift off to sleep.

* i imagine he likes plants but he's not v good at taking care of them. you've set up the reminders on his phone to water the different succulents he has (just two, because he's killed enough to make him sad. you bought the first one for him when you were out grocery shopping and you noticed him staring at the little baby succulents. when it passed away he admitted he wasn't good at taking care of plants and you replaced it, setting up watering alarms for him. the other was a gift from a student.) he's feeling a lot more successful about this recently. the succulents are on his phone lock screen. you are the home screen.

* when you're sick he will take you to the doctor's. he will bring you warm porridge and feed you. he will sit beside you while you sleep and read or watch game tapes on headphones. one of his hands will be holding yours.

* when you're angry he will get flustered. he will send flowers and cards and balloons. he doesn't want you to be angry, and he's usually p observant so it's probably pretty rare for you to be angry at him.

* if you're angry about work or something he will rub circles on your back while listening to you rant. will totally buy you bubble tea (or your choice of favourite drink) so u feel better. he thinks you're cute when you're ranting

* the shiratorizawa kids don't know he is dating. tendou has an inkling, but he hasn't said anything cos he cannot confirm. washijou sensei doesn't know either, but anabara knows. maybe anabara introduced you two, bc he thinks that saitou needs more female friends. he probably didn't think you two would hit it off so well. in hindsight he thinks he should have seen it coming.

* i've said he is easygoing, but he isn't a pushover either. the emotional support pillar of shiratorizawa, he is the teacher they look up to because he is fun and so relatable. washijou obviously knows this and leaves the rapport up to akira. you think it's cute how he stays up late to reply to tendou's strange and silly life questions or giving comments on the latest shounen jump, or teaching goshiki calming down strategies. sometimes you think he puts in too much effort since he gets really tired staying up late, but he is happy doing that so you hold back your criticism and just make sure he gets more rest on his off days.

* i imagine the team finds out one fine day after they've all graduated. tendou is especially excited to know more about your relationship. akira will be flustered, but it will be okay. you've heard enough about them that you know who is who before they introduce themselves. the boys will find it heartwarming to know that their coach loves them enough to talk about them with you. you secretly want to adopt all of them. akira will oppose they have families! we can't tear them away /ahhh but you want to, don't you, you tease him.

* domestic dates! imagine 2: it's sunday evening and you're both hungry and decide to cook dinner. there's no food in the apartment as usual (he usually goes out or gets takeout) so you both head to the nearby super. you argue lightly about how to tell fresh produce apart and which is the cheapest/most value for money deals. the cashier mistakes you for a newly wedded couple. akira laughs, blushing slightly. neither of you correct the cashier. the walk back to his apartment is filled with quiet expectation. akira wonders what kind of rings you like, and what kind would look good on you. he glances at your interlaced fingers and smiles. he can't think of any better than a wedding band.

*******

i know haikyuu is one of those mangas with a huge huge cast and even tho people consider hinata/kageyama to be the main mcs and to a certain extent karasuno as main also and therefore all the other teams are side characters, but this makes our coaches truly the most sideline characters ever. but still they are all quite well written support characters and so ive always wanted to give them a little more fleshed out stories. also domestic akira is so cute they r also so underrated. the young hq coaches all deserve our love! ukai obv but so is our coach saitou here and let's not forget mizoguchi and naoi. anabara is a lil older than them i would think~ (i'm a little annoyed at those people saying that they like older men but they only talk about keishin like oooook sure idk maybe but have u considered that u just like bad boys with a soft heart and not older men??)

requests are open, rules are here ♪( ´▽｀)

masterlist here (♡-♡)

next hq!bf post will only have the same team tagged, cos there's so many to link now (;-;) please click on masterlist~

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #saitou akira #shiratorizawa

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nomnomsik · 5 years

Note

Can I get a Yandere!Namjoon reacting to finding Y/N two years after she had escaped and he finds out that she was pregnant at the time and is now raising their child with somebody else?

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Thank you to @chinkbihh for coming up with the idea for this ask! I had a really bad headache while writing this, but I hope it came out well. [UNEDITED]

Trigger warning: yandere-themes, unexpected pregnancy, single mother. Please do not read if you are sensitive to these topics.

“Namjoon, it was a one-time thing. I don’t do second-times. We agreed that there would be no strings attached.”

You grew irritated at the man that stood in front of you, your foot tapping onto the concrete. Your arms were folded in front of your chest as if to subconsciously protect yourself for something to come. His face was worn out, fatigue evident on his face from his sleepless nights. He had missed you terribly, often drifting into his thoughts on the park bench thinking about you. His daydreams varied often on a spectrum from somewhat believable to impossible. From date ideas to planning out your entire wedding with him, Namjoon had been through it all. He was tempted and captivated by your charm, unable to get enough of you.

“Y/n… I just love you. I can’t help myself-!” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut somewhat ashamed of not being able to control his emotions. Why did he have to feel this way? It’s like he enjoyed hurting himself.

“Well, that’s cool, thanks for flattering me. But I have to go now, Namjoon. Cya, I guess.” You nonchalantly waved a hand, walking in the opposite direction. He was giving you a headache, a real pain in the ass to you.

“You’re such a bitch!” He yelled as you walked away from him. “I care about you so much you wouldn’t be able to fucking understand. You’re such an overconfident whore!” He sneered, turning his heel in a fit of impulsive anger, stomping away.

Just because you get all these men to sleep with you… You think you’re better than me, don’t you? You think I’m pathetic. Just because you’re so pretty and can get any man you want. I hope karma bites you fucking back.

»»————- ————-««

The door to Namjoon’s apartment slammed closed as he threw his boots off, his hair wet from the coming storm that poured over the time. The sky was crying with him for another failure for today. Thunder and lightning shook the ground as Namjoon watched the droplets slide down the glass like on his own skin. He grew frustrated as he sent his bag flying into the air and onto his couch. He took a seat on his comforter, folding his hands neatly on his lap. Rain droplets fell off the strands of his hair, onto his hand and clothes as he stared at the ground. It was a habit he had developed over the months of searching for you again… how long had it been? He brought a hand up to his forehead, difficulty in remembering your beautiful features.

How long as it been since he had seen you? Was it in late spring? He had remembered seeing you quietly take a seat in the auditorium as you waited for your diploma. Although the space was filled with over hundreds of students who wore the same graduation outfit, he could quickly identify you from the way you walked and sat. Your back stood fully straight as if to show you overwhelming confidence in yourself. He remembered the way you crossed your legs, one of them aimlessly rocking in the air. That was the last time he had seen you. He missed you desperately, wishing to hear his name escape your lips one more time.

How much had your hair grown? Did you cut it? Maybe you replaced your nail extensions…

Ah, he was getting carried away again. With a shake of his head, he stood up, flicking on the bathroom lights as he stared at his reflection.

Forgot to shave again.

He sighed, prompting to pull up his shirt over his head and undress. When the temperature of the shower was warm enough, Namjoon once again lost himself in his thoughts. As the water attacked his skin, he had wished it was hundreds upon hundreds of kisses that were bestowed upon him by you. Or maybe, it was your touch that sent several shivers down his body, never having enough.

“Why can’t you love me…?” He choked, a fist coming up to the tile wall of the shower. As he opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure if it was the shower or if he felt tears slip out of his eyes.

»»————- ————-««

Namjoon loved days like this. The weather screamed spring, the air sweet as honey but filled with pollen that killed him a bit inside. The sky was a beautiful coral blue with an abundance of white clouds that floated with it. The trees were finally blooming, their small buds popping up and announcing its arrival to the outside world. Namjoon felt the corner of his lips curl up as he resisted the urge to wave at the pink flower buds that poked out of the branches. His feet carried him to his favorite park, at the center of the town. Children roamed around it, running around and circling the large fountain that stood proudly at the center.

Namjoon dodged a wild kid, sitting down on one of the old park benches as he enjoyed himself. It was a rare occurrence for him to experience this level of happiness. But it was days like this that made up for everything. As he stared at the kids that goofed off, his eyes landed a certain peculiar couple that stood near the trees. They took had a stroller with them, but there was some familiarity with them that he couldn’t truly grasp.

It was until he saw the woman turn around, that he realized why they had caught his eye. He blinked several times, a hand also coming up to his face as he rubbed his eyes. Was he really seeing this right? He swore he saw your face, your features adorning a small smile as you looked down at the inside of the stroller.

You were utterly beautiful, your hair cut the shortest he had ever seen it. Your style of clothing did a complete 180, instead preferring a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He felt his cheeks heat up as he stared, your features showing a new maturity that left him speechless. It was only a year since he had seen you from graduation and yet, you were a new you. You were–

His eye twitched, broken from his thoughts as he saw a man approach you, giving you a kiss on the lips. That’s right. You had a stroller with you. A child. And that man, who was he?

»»————- ————-««

“This can’t be happening!” You screeched, grabbing your hair as you stared at the pregnancy tester, the second line appears. “Nonono, this… This!!” You cried out, your hand shaking as you held onto the tester. Looking down at your stomach, you fell onto your knees of your bathroom, tears streaming down your face.

“What do I do… Someone, p-please.” You sniffled, rubbing your eyes, the tester still in your hand. “Someone help me. What should I do?”

You couldn’t go back to Namjoon even though you knew he was the father. He would be ecstatic. You knew that once you told him, he would definitely accept you, a smirk plastered on his face. Your gut knew it was wrong to stay with that man. He was no good. You threw the tester onto the ground.

“Bastard probably fucking planned this…”

The first two months were the worst with the constant throwing up and morning sickness that made you want to give up. But in that time of desperation, you had reconnected with a longtime friend of yours, only able to confide to him.

“Hoseok… I need help. Please.”

He had come swiftly to your side, immediately rushing over to you. The moment you opened the door for him, he had wrapped his arms around you, careful of your stomach. He had sat next to you, listening patiently as you broke down in front of him with your constant fears. How would you be a single mother? How were you going to tell this baby in the future that he would never meet his father? How were you going to face your parents?

“We’ll get through it together. I’ll always be here to help you, y/n.” He smiled, opening his arms up to embrace you. “Do you want me to be with you?’

You had told him, yes and he had stayed. Your feelings slowly blossomed, no longer feeling the need to hook up and fool around. Hoseok had given you the security and stability you needed in your newly changing life. It was not long until Hoseok had asked you to marry you. It confused you when he had suddenly proposed. A part of you wanted to reject him, knowing he had done it to help your situation. You wondered why he went this far for you to which he had responded because he wouldn’t mind living with you forever.

He was constantly happy, always lifting up the mood. But some days, you would see a frown plastered on his face as he watched you cry your eyes out. Scared, cold, and terrified of this baby that was in your stomach. He was always fine in raising someone else’s child.

“Why would it matter if it’s not mine?” he asked when you had woken him up one night, on the verge of another breakdown. You never understood why he had stuck with you, no matter how many times he had told you that it was because he cared about you. It never made sense. How could someone care for you to this extent? To give their life to you for a mistake you had made?

Hoseok had never touched you, only opting to kiss your lips and cuddle you. His eyes lit up the first time he had felt the kick of your child that he would have the honor of raising. It was moments like this that maybe you two indeed loved each other.

»»————- ————-««

“Hoseok, I’m going to be right back. I need to use the bathroom.” He nodded, gently rolling the stroller back and forth as he sat on the bench. He let out a sound of delight as he looked up at the birds that flew overhead and out to the port of the town.

“Excuse me?” Hoseok looked over at a man who had shyly taken a seat next to him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t.” He smiled, his eyes peering at his sleeping child.

“Oh wow, she’s beautiful. Congratulations.” He heard the man compliment. Hoseok shook his hand, trying to remain modest.

“Thank you… Though, I’m sad to say she’s not mine.” Hoseok still sent the stranger a smile, not seeing the dark undertones that the stranger hid.

The stranger stood up, brushing himself off as he extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Namjoon. You?”

“Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you, Hoseok. Hope to see you soon. Tell y/n I sent my congratulations.”

“Of course. Thank you, Namjoon.”

Namjoon walked off, smiling up as he left the park and back to his apartment. When you had come back, Hoseok opened his mouth to speak. He frowned as he recalled the encounter with Namjoon.

When did he tell him your name?

#yandere bts #yandere namjoon #hoseok #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere rm #bts reaction #bts scenario

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lovelylapins · 5 years

Text

okay so i saw this au made by @bevvydraws and had to write something abt it (although i’m pretty sure i went a bit off the rails with this one oops)

ko-fi, ao3

No one had really known what to do with the kids when the abilities first appeared. Suddenly, as if overnight, kids appeared with the sudden ability to do things. A kid in Peru lifting cars over their head with glee on their face and a schoolbag at their feet. An American toddler rushing down a hallway with a quickness the camera could barely pick up, stumbling in their onesie and laughing up at their parent. A kid from Russia with superhuman strength, crushing a block of concrete to smithereens with one punch.

A teen from Italy grinning up at a camera moments before she short-circuited the system and made off with almost $1.3 million in jewels. Another kid in a viral video, becoming transparent in a store and reappearing moments later with dozens of high-end clothing in their arms. A bullied teen shoving several of her bullies into a dark hole conjured up by her, not appearing again until weeks later when she was forced to release them.

Suddenly, astonishment turned into fear, and the joy a parent felt when their child appeared to have the ability turned to terror.

The international governments hadn’t the closest idea of how to deal with the chaos. Kids, several too young to even be controlled by their parents -much less a higher authority- were now armed with unfathomable powers. Should they be raised wrong or influenced by the wrong people, who knew what could truly result from them?

Several meetings were held to discuss the issue, but even as more and more kids became discovered, it seemed less and less likely they’d find an ample solution, and soon before utter chaos unfolded.

And then, Gabriel Agreste had entered the scene.

A multi-millionaire fashion designer, who had recently come out and spoke on his own child, Adrien, an admired and respected young model in the making. Adrien, just thirteen years old, who had discovered he had an ability as well, and while Gabriel didn’t go into details with the press, rumors surged it was destructive and dangerous, one that could very well lead to trouble in Paris.

Gabriel stepped into the picture and proposed a fix of sorts. An academy, one where he would accept any kid who held an ability of sorts, and out of his own money provide food, clothing, and housing as they grew up and learned to handle their powers. A place where the young ones wouldn’t be persecuted or feared but accepted and taught their abilities were gifts, not curses. A place, he continued, where voluntary studies would be done out of the children’s choice only, and where they could see the extent to what most abilities could do.

His son was the first student enrolled, and which little persuasion several world leaders gave money to help fund the school as the months went on. The plan had merely been to build a school in Paris, but as the years went on and interest grew worldwide, too many students to enroll in just one academy, Gabriel proposed an even greater idea. He suggested expanding and having academies in several countries, allowing for kids to both go to school and be closer to families, and to create a sense of normality with the gifted ones and normal kids.

And, seeing the growth of those enrolled, his plan became a reality. Gabriel spent many weeks and months going to each academy, seeing new students and checking in with those enrolled at the academy for longer periods. Toddlers were now beginning to read and write, teens were on the verge of graduating and beginning a career in the real world, and several students themselves saw a future where maybe their ability could be used for the benefit of the world.

It was a miracle, a way to deal with the worries the world first faced. Sure, there had been a few ones unwilling to go to the school, and several others who turned to more dangerous and chaos causing antics, but with the research they had made in the academy, it became easier and easier to apprehend the gifted who acted out, and to keep them jailed without fear of retaliation. It also became easier for many to live normal lives and do normal things, without the stares and pointing that had resulted in the first few years of the emergence of abilities.

The first school founded, just three years earlier in Paris, was the most known academy out of the others. Gabriel had originally accepted any student to that one, but over time suggested it would be best if the more talented ones were enrolled there, where they could be separated from the abilities not needing as much attention and gentle guiding. Those abilities, which went far from simple house tricks and into the realm of manipulating the rules of time, space, and matter, were rare and much more challenging to control.

As such, Gabriel spent the most time there as opposed to the other academies. There, he spent time observing classes and most importantly observing students, seeing how they progressed throughout the class days and used their abilities in everyday life. He watched the unique skills and made notes on certain students, wondering what else would come from them.

Unbeknownst to them, however, he didn’t observe merely for signs of development. No, Gabriel Agreste was more interested in something else, a darker need. He wanted to see the true extent of their power and see if it could be applied to something else for his own benefit.

He wondered if, through his academy, he’d find a way to bring life back.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was an especially important student to him. She had been sought out by the academy two years prior, and finally, after much convincing finally joined. Unwilling to join the academy when she was younger, Marinette was now the same age as his son Adrien, sixteen and on the cusp of adulthood. It was better now than never that she was enrolled, and he hoped that by careful observation he’d be able to thoroughly find out what she was capable of before she was cast out into the real world.

Creation had been written in her files, he noticed. Manipulating matter into objects called forth by her own imagination, and making various real objects come to life in the blink of an eye. It was an ability he hadn’t discovered before, and he wondered if just perhaps, could she create life with time and practice.

It was also to another benefit. Creation worked in tandem with destruction, and after years spent trying to contain his son’s behavior and outbursts he finally had a way to contain it, Adrien having spent the past few years destroying everything he could with the tap of his fingers whenever he pleased to, causing vast damage to several parts of the building and causing Gabriel to shield him from the others, far away in an abandoned section of the academy.

Marinette smoothed out her shirt as she went down the long hallway. She had been assigned a room in the vacant section of the building, untouched by other students and closed off from virtually the world. She’d been assured, however, that she would be allowed to participate in the same classes and activities as the other students and was only put there per Gabriel’s orders.

Frowning, she looked at the walls as she walked. Cracked, some bits of paint peeling off and many doors damaged as she went by. Stopping before a wall, she placed her hands on it and closed her eyes, picturing a new and fresh wall instead. A warmth came from her hands to the object before her, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that it all had been repaired.

She continued fixing as she went through the hallways, clutching the room number slip in her other hand. Marinette didn’t mind the fix as she would be living in these halls, but the slight tingle in her hands as she did so reminded her to be cautious with the amount of force she used. There was still much she had to learn, she told herself, and this place would help with that.

Stopping before the door her slip of paper had written down, she noticed that it was the most damaged of all the others. She placed a hand on the doorknob, and as she repaired it she swung the door open, letting herself in.

It was spacious, she noticed. One bed on one side of the room, with her box of things from home, sat on top of it. Her side, she assumed. Looking to the other, she spotted another bed, of whom she expected would be her roommate. However, she didn’t see her anywhere, twisting her neck around in the hopes they were hiding in the shadows, or sitting down somewhere she didn’t notice, or-

“Who are you?” a voice lets out, and Marinette’s head snaps over across the room, where a room she can only think of being the bathroom is. A guy’s stepping out, with a towel wrapped around his waist and eyes narrowed at her from across the room.

Marinette blushes, shielding her eyes from his frame and wishing something came between them and throwing her arms out in front of her. She felt the warmth in her body start up again, and when she looks in front of herself again, she sees a wall, tall and strong, dividing the two and effectively keeping her thoughts pure and innocent.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” she exclaims, hands threw over her mouth in shock.

“Did… did you just make that wall?” he calls out, voice muffled.

“Uh… yeah. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just kinda… thought it up.”

“No, it’s okay. I guess. It… It gives me a way to change in privacy, that’s for sure.”

Marinette blushes as she hears him rummaging around, drawers slamming open and shut. She looks down at her feet, wondering if she’s being pranked.

“You know, this is pretty cool,” he says, and he sounds much closer, as if he’s just on the other side of the wall across from her and what she can only hope is changed.

“Thanks,” she lets out softly.

“So… you create things, right?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s my ability. But I can only create. I can’t uncreate something, so I’m not sure how to exactly get this wall down... if we can even get it down. I’m really sorry. Maybe we can call someone who can get someone to get this down, and then they can figure out where I belong.”

“You know,” he starts, “I think you’re right where you belong.”

Another second, and Marinette hear a large thud on the wall before she starts seeing tiny cracks emerge. The longer she watches, the more cracks appear, sprouting from the same place until the wall begins to crumble. In less than a few minutes, it’s all gone, with dust in the air and destroyed pieces of the wall on the floor. Standing behind it all is that guy, staring at her.

“I’m Adrien,” he introduces, clapping his hands to free them of the dust and holding one out. “Adrien Agreste.”

Hand still out, Marinette slowly goes to shake it. A part of her is worried about what just happened to the wall will happen to her, but better logic tells her that abilities just don’t work like that. One needs to have the intent to do something, after all. Shaking it, she relaxes a bit at his touch, before thinking through his name. Along with that, his face, which looks oddly familiar.

“Agreste… Like the school?” she asks, before looking down at her room assignment again. Was she really in the right room?

He chuckles, moving a hand back to rub at his neck.

“Yeah, that Agreste. Not that my dad will ever admit it, though.” Adrien looks down at her, at this girl with bright blue eyes and her mouth agape, holding just a small piece of paper in her hands. He squints, spotting the number written on it.

“You’re in the right place, after all,” he says, seeing the numbers written on it the same that was framed on his door. “I guess my dad thought you’d balance things out around here and finally assigned me a roommate. Although, I didn’t think I’d get paired with a girl. Usually, they’re pretty strict around here with those sorts of things.”

“You’ve never had a roommate before?”

“Nope,” he says, smiling. “Not that I’m complaining though. It’ll be nice having someone to talk to.”

“Are you not allowed in classes or the dining hall?”

He spreads his hands out, motioning to the room. While decorated with plenty of lavish things, there were cracks in the wall and debris littering some parts of the room. It looked like repairs had been done plenty of times, but nothing strong enough to hold him back.

“I’m not really someone they want to just run around the academy, especially since this is the one my dad likes to show off the most. I’m pretty destructive, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure I can help fix some things,” she says, smiling up at him. For what it was worth, he seemed nice enough. A bit sheltered and a bit hot tempered she supposed, but nothing she couldn’t deal with.

After all, she didn’t really have enough people to call a friend anyways.

Walking over to one of the walls, she places her hand down on it, Adrien watching as she fixed it with ease. Already moving to another part of the room, she repaired the room a bit more, fixing marks and damage done that hadn’t been fixed in years or bothered to be attended to. Adrien kept his eye on her as she did so, admiring the gentle way she brushed her hand on the surfaces. The more he watched, he saw a slight light emerge from her hands as if the energy within her came out and help create new matter into the world.

“You’re pretty powerful,” he comments, noticing that once she was done, she didn’t appear to show much weariness. Looking at him, she grins.

“My mom and dad really supported me growing up,” she explained, smiling at his compliment. “While I wasn’t at the academy learning how to really master things, I spent a lot of time drawing and creating clothes, bringing them to life. And then, after dodging invitations from the academy for the past few years and not really going anywhere with public school, we just decided we might as well see what they could offer me here.”

“So, you’re a designer?” Adrien quirks his brow. He’d assumed someone like her would’ve flocked to the school first thing, and especially someone with her power. His dad, before devoting most of his life to running the academy had been a well-known designer himself, and she could’ve learned firsthand from him.

“Aspiring, at least. No one’s really wanted to be around me long enough to try on the clothes I made so I guess I can’t tell how good they really are.” Making her way over to her box, Marinette rummaged a bit before pulling out a sketchbook. She flipped through it, seeing various dresses and clothes she designed in the past few years. Many of them had been brought up to life by her, but she spent long days spent just seeing them hung up, no one to model them for her.

It had been hard making friends and as sweet and nice she was to everyone, it seemed there was still a sense of apprehension around her. While her ability wasn’t that dangerous, it was more powerful than the other kids who decided to stay in public school, prompting concern from several parents and classmates about what could result if she snapped one day.

“I mean, I’ll model them for you if you want,” he suggested. Adrien had been a childhood star with modeling, and while his power and temper kept the masses away, he still drew plenty of attention with the promotional shoots his father forced him to do, promoting the school and encouraging gifted kids to apply. It had been some while since he was actually made to try on clothes though, and he wouldn’t mind trying them on for his new roommate and the first person he’s made contact with that wasn’t a teacher in a few years.

“That’s really sweet,” she said, looking over her shoulder to beam at him. He smiled back, feeling his cheeks burn as she looked at him.

“It’s no big deal,” he says, waving his hand in the air and feeling his cheeks turn warmer. “Just consider it something friends do.”

“My first friend here.” She sets her sketchbook down and sits down at her bed, looking at Adrien on the other side of the room.

Mine too, he thinks to himself.

“I just hope it won’t be my last,” she comments, looking out a window to where the courtyard was. Dozens of students walked, all in uniforms and laughing amongst themselves. As she looked longer at the mirror, she spotted cracks in it, most likely victim to Adrien’s destruction. She made a note to fix it later.

They both stare out, watching the vast number of students crossing into different buildings or sitting on benches, enjoying the outside. Adrien wondered how it must feel, to be free and able to do whatever, even while carrying abilities and able to do wondrous things.

“Well, we should probably settle this whole roommate situation,” Marinette says after a moment, breaking the calm. “I don’t think I’m being rude when I say I want a little privacy.”

“No, not in the slightest,” he agrees. “I’m sure you were onto something when you created that wall, but personally I want something that won’t completely cut us off from each other or leave one of us trapped in the room until it’s been destroyed again.”

“You’re right. We need something better, something that won’t need constant use of our energy.” Marinette frowned, thinking.

“We could have a divider?” Adrien suggests. “Like, an easy access one where we could slide it open if we needed to get to the other side of the room, but we had locks on both sides in case we needed privacy?”

Marinette nods. Imagining one in her brain, she thought up how it’d look in the room. Not wanting to put any intent in it however, she quickly stilled her thoughts in case she created one without a moment’s notice.

“It’d work,” she finally says. “It wouldn’t completely close us off but let us kinda have our own room of sorts.”

Motioning for him to step onto his “side”, Marinette finally began to picture it. A divider, one smack dab in the middle of the room and giving the two space, an area for each to actually have privacy. She held her hands out in front of her and feeling the warmth spread through her body again, let the energy come out and create before her.

When she finally opened her eyes again, she smiled.

“It worked!” she said, clapping her hands together. Running to the divider, she clasped her hands onto the sliding panel and pushed it open, revealing Adrien on the other side. “Can you believe it?”

Adrien grinned, unable to say anything. She was incredible, he thought. In mere seconds she conjured up something and made it so nice and there and real he couldn’t process anything other than inner praise for Marinette.

Creation, he thought to himself. How miraculous.

#ml fic #miraculous ladybug #uhhh #agreste au #is that what this is called??#idk but i love it #adrienette #idk i kinda wanna upload this to ao3 and continue but with ops permission #ladybug #chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste

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dvrkprinces · 4 years

Text

&&. ( carter blackthorn ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( he ) is a ( 30 ) year old ( alpha werewolf ) who resembles ( michael b. jordan ). ( he ) has been said to be ( loyal & hard-working ) but also quite ( distrusting & proud ). with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, he has chosen to align with ( the werewolf rebellion ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( bunny deerling’s personal bodyguard ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour them whole.

— ❝ if i cannot be better than them, i will become so much worse.❞

( hi there, kiwi here! this is the official intro for my precious bb carter blackthorn. this is the first time i’m playing carter in a group and i’m so excited to see how he fits with everyone! needless to say, i want all of the connections for him! please let me know if you’d like to plot; i’m available through both the group’s discord and tumblr ims. ♡ )

name: carter octavius blackthorn

birthplace: oakland, california

birthday: june 18th | gemini

scents: windswept shores, white seafoam, sea salt, sage, ambrette seeds, fresh woods, rugged woodland cliffs + ( signature cologne: wood sage & sea salt - jo malone london )

appearance: 6′1″ and honed from years of playing physical sports outdoors and working out, carter is in the best shape of his life and enjoys spending time running or working out in the gym or training arenas. he is an alpha wolf to the fullest physical extent and it’s obvious even when looking at him. carter has dark brown / black hair he tends to keep in a close buzz / fade to his scalp and well-groomed facial hair, though he’s been known to go without a beard, as well.

carter doesn’t care much for fashion and tends to dress casually when he’s not working for the deerling family; t-shirts, v-necks, sweaters, jackets, and casual pants make up most of his personal wardrobe.

personality: ( + ) loyal, hard-working, protective, kind, passionate ( - ) distrusting, proud, stubborn, emotionally distant

biography: carter hails from the great city of oakland, california, and remains a steadfast californian at heart. born to a human father and a beta werewolf mother, carter never heard the term “half-ling” or “half-breed” in his house growing up. instead, he was nurtured with all the love, devotion, and care of two parents who were desperately in love with one another and supportive of the small, tight-knit family they had culminated together. carter grew up with a love for sports, playing basketball with kids in the neighborhood during summer breaks, football for school in the autumn, and baseball training in the winter and spring months. his father thought his love for sports would soon blossom into something of a professional player, but his mother spotted his energy and physicality for what it was: carter exhibited all the telltale traits of an alpha werewolf, and though it was a term the blackthorn patriarch was unfamiliar with, carter’s parents attempted to teach their son the importance of his heritage and lineage to the fullest of their capabilities.

his father worked as a local physician and his mother maintained a classroom of kindergartners as an early education teacher, so carter considered himself fortunate enough to grow up in a family with two parents who loved and cared for him. his life changed when he was roughly 13 years old and a close family friend to the blackthorns died in a tragic automobile accident, leaving behind a young and bright-eyed little girl. the blackthorns took in the toddler, first as foster parents, and then eventually adopted her into their home. she and carter were raised like siblings, and to this day, he’s fiercely protective of his younger adopted sister, particularly because she’s recently shown signs of being an omega.

carter’s family was happy - for the most part. by the time he had graduated high school and entered university with the intentions of studying foreign language and history, tragedy struck the blackthorn household. carter was twenty years old when his father had a heart attack at work--one he didn’t recover from. the kind, soft-hearted blackthorn patriarch passed with his wife, son, and adopted daughter all around him. the grief gnawed at carter’s heart, and though his father left behind life insurance and an inheritance for his mother to survive on, her occupation as an early chilhood educator took a toll as she struggled to figure out how to raise a family of two on her own. so, to help soothe his mother’s concerns, carter took on a job serving to pay for his college classes and tuition. he assured his mother the tips were enough to get by...but they weren’t.

so rather than stress his mother out with an unnecessary financial burden, carter did all he could think of: he used his traits as an alpha wolf and his years of physical training and exertion to enter into the sordid world of cage fighting. he was good in the ring; a natural, some of his competitors often said, and the bets and cash prizes won from the illicit underground fights he participated in was enough to help push him through school. he helped his mother in whatever way he could, taking care of his younger sister and helping to cook meals and run errands after long days. it was no easy feat, to be sure, but carter knew there were many out there who had it much worse than him. he made do with what he had.

and he was good at fighting. he excelled where other fighters fumbled and fell.

finally, when it felt as though the never-ending tunnel of darkness would refuse to give way to light, carter made it through with a double major in foreign language studies and history. he acquired a job after college teaching american history to esl students, and felt he had finally found his calling when his mother told him of her concerns about his younger sister. she showed all the signs of being an omega, and with the turbulent and dangerous circumstances surrounding the rarity of omega children in the world, his mother feared that something might happen to her one day, and then their family of four would be reduced to a family of two. she claimed that she knew of a place where they could join up with a resistance and place his sister into hiding; a werewolf-led rebellion that she’d been told about from old friends and family members of carter’s mother back from her days immersed in the supernatural underworld.

though oakland was where he grew up, his family was his home. carter was quick to agree to help his mother, packing their bags and setting their sights for the netherlands. in a bid to protect his sister and mother from plans the human government might have for both of them, carter joined leagues with the werewolf rebellion and became placed on an assignment as none other than bunny deerling’s bodyguard: the daughter of a government official for the human-werewolf coalition.

presently, carter is just entering his role as a mole for the werewolf rebellion and a bodyguard to the deerling estate. he’s not sure how well he’ll be able to pull off this coup, but if it means protecting his family and ensuring rights for werewolves all over, it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

after all, carter’s certain it’s what his father would have wanted.

wanted connections: i would really love to hear any connections or ideas you have for carter ! definitely some acquaintances within the werewolf rebellion, maybe some humans he’s not on friendly terms with, antagonistic relationships with fallen angels or vampires, etc. !! he’s really not that familiar with the political climate here, growing up in a household that tended towards human behaviors, so hit me with what you’ve got !

#CARTER //#thorns and roses: ( intro )#parent death tw #car crash tw #fighting tw

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positivelypetty · 5 years

Text

A REALLY long rant on the Joint Training Arc.

Okay, so since the Joint Training Arc is basically done, I thought I would share my various opinions and adress certain issues that A LOT of people had with this arc.

But, before we get into the actual rant, I think I should distinguish the difference between an opinion, criticism and just plain antagonism.

Here is an example of just misinformed toxicity:

This is just being TOXIC!!! You can’t shelter these horrible comments by saying “it’s just an opinion.” Please don’t act like after 4 years of really enthralling writing, he’s now the worst writer ever. Instead, explain why you don’t think this was the best story choice, instead of being clearly misinformed. It’s nothing absolutely terrible, but just a simple example on how people can be so demanding and completely inconsiderate to the creator.

“Forbidding” Horikoshi from writing is actually ridiculous. He WROTE AND CREATED your “precious sons” that you love so much. So, if you claim that the manga is now utter trash because it doesn’t personally cater to you, please abandon or take a long break from the manga/anime to maybe clear your head. Thank you.

We don’t need any more toxicity in this fandom than we already do.

Now with that said, let’s talk about the arc! (Also keep in mind that these ideas spurred from Reddit so, I decided to expand on it)

1-B vs 1-A situation:

I've been reading a ton of comments too, the good, and the bad and it's fine, everyone has their opinions and that's cool, but for me, it didn't seem it was about who won or lost, it was more about how each class was taught. And this boils down to both Vlad and Aizawa.

Vlad has obviously been pushing his students and their quirks to the max in regards to working in teams. This shines through in all of the fights they all work together very well and know the strengths and weaknesses of each other as well as their enemies. They go into a battle with a plan and are ready to execute the plan flawlessly.

Whereas Aizawa I believe has pushed for more individualist thinking style, and I think this comes from his basis of fighting villains. No one will come to save you, you have to be able to handle yourself whether escaping or defeating. He doesn't coddle his students, and he does push them to the brink as well. What's interesting is Class A has had more hands-on experience. With Aizawa’s teaching style I think they sometimes have a harder time working with one another and they can fall apart with their teamwork. HOWEVER their real-life experience has taught them that the best-laid out plans can not go as plan, and they are able to utilize their 'individual' thinking to fight regardless of a plan falling through.

I found it really interesting and I think there's value in both ways of thinking for Vlad and Aizawa. For Class B, they will have to learn how to abandon a plan that's not working and strategize on the fly, and Class A will have to hone their teamwork for long-running battles.

And let's be honest, these are just kids, pushing their bodies and minds to the limit, I don't find Class B to be 'trash' just because they lost, they still fought hard and worked better together in the long run then Class A. Class B didn't have any dead weight with their battles, everyone was utilized and contributed to all their fights. People are so set on who “won” or who “lost” the battle, that people overlook everyone’s overall individual quirks and techniques. I personally believe that many of the 1-B students were amazing and are forces to be reckoned with. It’s just that 1-A knows how to handle themselves when things don’t to go to plan rather than 1-B (as mentioned before) which gave 1-A the upper-hand in most of the battles, but I can definitely name a few fights where Class A's members were carried by their team.

Now to address the Shinsou thing:

To everyone who was PRESSED that Shinsou didn’t win....

What do you expect from Shinsou? I feel like people were overestimating him. Even with those cloth bindings and his quirk. All you need to do is shut your mouth, grab his cloth bindings (at best he has a few months training) keep focusing on him,restrain him, and boom you're done.(I obviously know it’s not that simple, but basically) I love Shinsou, I really do, but he’s basically Aizawa (I love Aizawa too don’t get me wrong). Aizawa mentioned that it took FIVE YEARS for him to truly master his quirk, and even though since this is the younger generation, so he’ll probably get the hang of it sooner, how long as he really been “training” his quirk under Aizawa? Definitely not long enough for him to go 1v1 with someone who is a close combat fighter. (It really isn’t that shocking that Deku won, he could probably win without Black Whip). Don't get me wrong Shinsou has improved MONUMENTALLY but not to the extent of 1-A who has direct experience in fighting villains. I just think people are mainly mad that 1-B lost is as because they think Shinsou won’t get into the Hero Course. Like chill. One of the main reasons 1-A won in the first match was because of Shinsou, so I think that proves that he is MORE than capable to get in to the Hero Course.

The whole OP Deku thing:

First off, I honestly don't expect him to ever match All Might at his prime in terms of consistent pure raw strength. Deku isn't a giant man of pure muscle, so I don't think he'd be able to go 100 and maintain it like All Might could. Deku is more of a person of different techniques and strategy, rather than brute force. Like, I don't know if Deku is going to be throwing punches that can blow away a city block.

That being said, each generation is getting stronger. Like, Endeavor will be surpassed by Todoroki by the time he graduates (if it even takes that long). Iida is already faster than Gran Torino. In the very beginning of the manga, they mentioned Deku will be the strongest holder of OFA, since it gets stronger each generation. Deku will have formidable rivals if the other strong students also reach their full potential. Hell, those rowdy kids we saw at the makeup exam already had really strong quirks at their young age. Generational power creep means that everybody around Deku will get way stronger than the current pros.

I understand the sentiment that Deku doesn't need more quirks, but Deku's quirk development was already approaching a plateau in terms of being able to fully control what power he could handle. He'd just work on his technique and slowly get stronger and stronger. Sure, he's gonna eventually be able to punch/kick hard enough to shoot himself around in the air, but we've already seen that stuff (plus Bakugo does that too). I know Horikoshi is creative and will develop some cool moves for Deku, but Deku's struggle to control OfA was mostly over. All he had to do wast master OFA steadily and he’ll be good. More quirks means that he may unlock more quirks when he's able to use more %. So instead of reaching 30% and just being X amount stronger physically, he may unlock a new tool to try and master/incorporate into his combat toolkit.

If this is a negative turn for the story, we won't even be able to tell until many, many more chapters are released. We may look back and decide that this was a bad move, but we shouldn't assume that's the case when it was literally introduced TWO WHOLE CHAPTERS AGO. (even though I don’t think it was a bad move AT ALL)

What I hope to see in future Arcs:

I think what fans would really enjoy and we could all use some real Deku character development. Deku’s my favorite character, but I feel like people can’t connect to him as much as someone like Todoroki, because his lack of emotional development. He’s indeed way more confident then he was in the beginning, I still feel like he has low self esteem. Someone needs to tell him that he’s worthy of this mega powerful quirk. ( he needs it 😭)We know so much about him, but rarely see him living his day to day life outside of training, costume updates and the occasional villain attack. Last time we got anything close to development in was only told through Aoyama's development.

These next few chapters will definitely give us something, but only as it relates to One for All. I'd honestly like to know Deku's thoughts about his situation, he seems determined that's for sure. Does he feel stressed, uninformed, unprepared, scared...resentful? We can infer a bunch, I'd just like to see him talk to All Might, Bakugo or his mom about it.

In Conclusion:

Honestly, to me,It never seemed to matter who won or lost any of these matches people were gonna complain regardless. When Class A wins they call it predictable and when class B won they say call it BS or plot amor. Even when it’s a draw people got upset saying Todoroki was disappointing. Some people wanted the matches to be fleshed out over a couple of chapters rather than rushed, then a few weeks later complained that it was taking to long. Bakugo wins his match quickly and those same people lose their minds about how they wanted the match to be longer. People complained about Horikoshi not letting the girls shine in battle after the second match, but conveniently forgets Tsuyu was the MVP of the first match and Kendo and Mushroom girl made 1-B win the second match. (AND WE’RE NOT GONNA FORGET HOW URARAKA AND MINA DOMINATED THE MATCH)Then you have the people who say all of 1-B is worthless and then Juzo and Tetsutetsu prove otherwise. Now we have people think Deku is OP but in this new chapter it seems that he much has a limit to using these other abilities but I’m sure that won’t stop the myriad of complaints. Every week the same people come to see the spoilers and complain based off of a fragmented non-contextualized summary of the chapter and wonder why they enjoy the chapter itself less. Maybe going into a chapter with a negative outlook will do that. The part that irks me is that virtually everyone whose binge-read this arc seems to enjoy it only seems to be us week to week readers with a issue. Either way I hope the discussion going into the next arc are far more level-headed constructive than they have been.

I think this will be one of the arcs that played out better once it was animated. Individual panels maybe favored over the anime, but overall pacing will surely favor the anime. Waiting week in and week out, over analyzing every short chapter has really done no favors for fans and Horikoshi.

#mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #deku #midoriya izuku #bnha #mha 213 #mha 214 #mha 215 #mha 200-215 #mha 216 #thanks for coming to my ted talk #yall are so annoying #i stg #rant #anime #manga #manga spoliers #bnha spoilers

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ohpenelopes · 5 years

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i mean i could be aesthetic but instead i'm just pathetic

ALISHA BOE? No, that’s actually PENELOPE “PENNY” BROWN-PATIL from the NEXT GENERATION ERA. You know, the child of LAVENDER BROWN and PARVATI PATIL? Only 21 years old, this HUFFLEPUFF alumni works as a BARISTA and is sided with THE NEUTRALS. SHE identifies as a CIS WOMAN and is a PUREBLOOD who is known to be SELF-PITYING, A PERFECTIONIST, and INSECURE but also FLEXIBLE, GENTLE and IMAGINATIVE.

LINKS – pinboard, stats. CHARACTER PARALLELS – jackie burkhart ( that 70s show ), chloe gemell ( my mad fat diary ), mini mcguinness ( skins uk ), engel beekman ( skam nl ), cassie howard ( euphoria ), emaline ( everything sucks! ), gretchen wieners ( mean girls ), caroline forbes ( the vampire diaries -- earlier seasons ), kelly kapoor ( the office ) AESTHETIC – star shaped hoop earrings, drawing hearts all over your notes, needle pricked finger tips, unapologetic femininity, a loud and cheerful laugh echoing through a hallway, pinky promises, heart shaped sunglasses hiding hungover stained eyes, movie nights with popcorn and rose wine, drowning in the sea of your own thoughts HEADS UP – this intro has mentions of anxiety, but i’ve marked all of these with a trigger warning! <3

backstory ( 2008 - 2026 )

penny is born penelope lyra brown-patil --- penelope, for the woman who not only waited faithfully for her husband’s return for years, but who tricked many man in the process; lyra, for the constellation (because the stars are so wise) --- and as the second (and eventual middle) child to lavender and parvati

and she grows up happy. her childhood is peaceful and wonderful, filled with fun days and laughter. there’s not much out of the ordinary --- it’s stable and beautiful, and penny longs for those days quite a lot.

at some point, she learns of the things her parents went through at school, about war and rebellion and fear. penny admires her mothers more than anything --- she’s scared of this world, of this past, but she’s filled with admiration and a bit of fear that she won’t be able to live up to that. (she doesn’t have to, of course --- there’s no pressure or reason to, but still; she wonders about it, and she can’t shake the thought.)

anxiety tw | though life was stable and good, penny has always felt very uncertain about ... everything. insecurity has never been a stranger to her, nor has anxiety or pressure. she has high expectations of herself, expecting nothing short of the best --- and when she failed as a child (whether it was in playing quidditch on toy brooms or when drawing or when trying to sing perfectly), she would throw tantrums. she got help for this as a child after she had her first full-blown anxiety attack, but it never really faded. | end of tw

her interests as a child mostly range from princess stories to drawing elaborate things to cutting out pretty outfits from fashion magazines. she’s gentle and quiet and excitable when she wants to be, a whirlwind of pink and smiles and tangled long hair

at hogwarts, penny is sorted in hufflepuff (though the hat did consider ravenclaw) for her spirit. she doesn’t mind not being a gryffindor like her parents once were (or, at least, she doesn’t later on; at first it just seems like an affirmation that she’s not as brave as they are), likes how yellow compliments her eyes and fits in quite nicely among the puffs.

anxiety tw | teenagedom is a tough time for her. it seems like everyone is able to juggle it all, and then there’s penny: unable to keep up good grades and look pretty and have an exciting social life and have enough sleep. she feels like she’s drowning in all the expectations she has for herself, feels like she’s the only one on this world who is suffering (she’s prone to a woe is me mentality, for sure) and so hides it all behind perfectly curated smiles. her insecurity has always been strong, but it grows. she drowns them out by pretending. end of tw

in those years, she should be learning who she is, but in stead, penny learns how to be what others want. she shifts and shapes and bends herself to match others expectations --- she’s loud and funny and excitable among her peers, grinning widely and flipping her hair, appearing confident and extroverted and completely at ease. sometimes she’s quieter, a more gentle and softer being, lovely and quaint. she’s a model student (minus the amazing grades) to her teachers, a kind older housemate to the first years, a tough bitch when situations call for it. and sometimes it feels genuine, this person she’s showing off, and sometimes it all feels like a play. it depends, on her mood, on the role, on the weather, on the stars.

and you know what? it works. for most of the time. and then sometimes, it doesn’t, and there’s nothing to do but cry endless tears in her bed and be the most melodramatic person in the castle. alcohol tw | this happens when she’s drunk most of the time, to be honest --- penny is such a messy drunk. end of tw

penny also developed a taste for fuckboys during this time. she wanted to feel loved, she wanted to be touched, to be desired, and part of her was desperate --- but that didn’t make it okay for guys to treat her that way, period. i would get into this more but i don’t feel comfy about doing that akdjssdf.

when she turned fourteen, she got a sewing machine for her birthday. the next schoolyear, she dragged the thing behind her into the castle, unable to part from it after a summer of sewing. penny had always been interested in fashion, but now she was able to take it to the next level.

the dream to become a fashion designer grows and grows and grows, and penny is quite handy with the sewing machine, and her designs aren’t half bad, but of course it’s a stupid dream --- because penny doesn’t believe in herself, not yet at least.

post-graduation life ( 2026 - now )

penny graduated with one ambition only (see above) and no faith in herself. she became a barista, telling herself that she would work on her self esteem, that she would build herself up and become stronger and ready, that she would work on her portfolio and her design skills and that she would practice and work hard and ... that’s where she’s been for the past few years.

not much has changed, to be honest. penny still feels like that lost teenager, and in a certain sense she is --- she has just gained a slight bit of maturity, has moved out and has started working. her sense of self is still incredibly fragile, as is her self esteem, and while she’s trying to improve it, she just hasn’t found the right way to.

she feels so stuck. she feels so frozen. she feels like she has no clue who the hell she is, and she doesn’t know what to do about changing that. another part of her doesn’t even want to be thinking about these things, and just wants to have some fun --- once penny graduated, she definitely started partying more sfksjdfhsdkjfh. party girls dont get hurt!!!!! and like, on one hand, that’s all completely fine, because this is the time for fun and self discovery, and who says you can’t do both?

the timeclash kind of turned everything upside down. it did for everyone, i imagine, but that’s not really how penny sees it (woe is me! why does everything bad always happen to me!!). she’s so scared sakjdf. scared to see her parents and to be a Big Disappointment because she’s scared of the fact that there’s suddenly a war (like, what the fuck?), because she doesn’t want to fight, because she doesn’t even know how to fight!!!

she’s a coward lmao, but a coward with Standards (lookin at you peter)

i mean, if it came down to it --- if she had to protect her friends or family --- she would fight, of course. she’s just not very good at combatical magic, or at strategy, or at anything war or rebellion-related, really (except for smuggling booze into hogwarts, i guess, but that’s something of the past). and that’s fine, if you ask me, but penny doesn’t think it is --- but that doesn’t mean she’s going to push herself to be braver or to do more

personality & details

jfc i rambled so much up there, time to get a bit more coherent up in this BITCH

penny is such a mess. i have a hard time talking about her sometimes because she’s so messy and because her mood and her energy fluctuate so much --- she can be high energy and extroverted one moment, and completely down and sad the other.

did i ... project myself .... onto penny? maybe. partly.

she’s a bit of a chameleon, really. she’s very adaptable and flexible and willing to change for the comfort of others, and she thus feels like she has a small sense of self. this is true, to a certain extent. i think she’s too focused on finding herself that she doesn’t see that she’s already found herself a little, that there are parts of her that are genuine. she’s so hard on herself, expects so much, she’s just ... completely blinded by her own doubts, tbh.

and she’s def a sad bitch and a messy bitch, but she’s so much fun. god. penny just loves laughing and being happy and doing fun and cute stuff! she likes good things! so much! she tries to be such an upbeat person and she can be and agh. i love her like that.

such a romantic. pls stop her. her idea of love makes her so blind and deaf and she always falls for dumb boys :( but skfjshdf she just loves romance! and romantic comedies! and romance novels (tho she struggles to focus on books properly, ngl) and just ... pink hearts and all that fuzzy stuff

when she got her job as a barista, all she thought was that it might just bring her the perfect coffee shop romance

she’s an idiot

she usually just goes by penny, but not because she dislikes the name penelope --- she thinks it’s a really neat name, to be honest (a bit poetic and mysterious), but penny has just been her nickname for so long that she doesn’t want to make people call her penelope. BUT she does want to be referred to as penelope when she gets famous, thank you very much.

regarding that: penny wants to be famous dskfjhdsf. a famous designer, of course --- but she just likes the idea of fame altogether as well!!!

she takes that dream and ambition seriously, in a way. she plans to take serious steps soon (but she’s been saying that for years), always waiting until she feels ready to put herself out there. the idea of being rejected is just ... massive. the idea of not succeeding, of flopping, is so terrifying, that she prefers sticking with her dead-end job, for now. she has been sewing a lot after graduation, and i imagine she constructs a fair amount of her outfits herself (and does the same for friends), but that’s it, and she’s such a Coward about it

when she buys fashion magazines, she always gets two copies so she can use one for cutouts so she can make collages and moodboards

aEsThEtIc QuEeN!!!!

no really though, she has such a good sense for aesthetics. knows what colours and fabrics and prints mesh well together, always looks on Point, etcetera.

idk what to say this intro is such a gd mess bc i wrote everything from scratch and i kept changing my mind about things and while penny is a Very old muse, i changed a LOT oops!!!

#quantum intro #alcohol tw #anxiety tw

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sweetlykissedadora · 5 years

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My Eyes Adored You

Here’s a song-fic for @catradora-week Day 2: Together/Apart

Adora and Catra grew up as best friends, despite being polar opposites. It was a well known fact in their small hometown that the girls were attached at the hip ever since they met at four years old. Everything they had gone through, good and bad, they had each other. Catra believed that they were meant to know one another, to mold them into the people they were destined to be. Adora believed that. They pushed themselves while together, they brought out their best sides. She never wanted that to end. She knew it would though, so she tried to keep her distance, to a certain extent. It was hard though, when everything her best friend did took her breath away.

“Till we grew into the me and you and went our separate ways

My eyes adored you though I never laid a hand on you

My eyes adored you like a million miles away from me

You couldn't see how I adored you.”

Catra was the artistic type, running around with a camera ever since she could hold one. Nobody really knew what awoke the passion in her, but it was meant to be. Everyone who had seen her pictures knew it. For crying out loud, her photographs went into the town gazettes at the age of eight. She was destined for greatness, and she was desperate to chase it. Since she was ten, all the girl would talk about was getting out of the ‘deadbeat town’ and seeing the world.

The photographer always made fun of Adora, calling her ‘one of those people’. The kind that never intended to leave the comfort of her hometown. Adora was the town’s sweetheart. Athletic, model student, and always one to give back to the town. While she had every opportunity to hit the bigtime with her copious amount of skills, she preferred the idea of staying there as a coach. It was rewarding to her, helping other kids learn and grow through the sports that she loved so much.

Adora would never forget the first time Catra insisted in high school that nothing would ever keep her tied down to this town. She wanted to be rid of it once and for all the day after graduation. It changed everything for her, and she knew she could never confess her feelings to Catra. The tough and edgy girl had always been soft for Adora, so confessing would only hurt them both. It would make Catra hesitant to ditch the town, and it would make Adora feel guilty for putting that burden on her. It wasn’t fair, so she tried to play it cool.

Even the day after graduation, she was trying to hold herself together as she helped Catra load up her car. Just as she’d always said, she was heading off to New York. From their hometown Superior, Arizona it was a 36 hour drive. Even with their families going on vacation, it would be the farthest away the two had ever been. While Adora managed to see her best friend off without shedding a tear, she couldn’t help but fall apart on the walk home.

“Headed for city lights, climbed the ladder up to fortune and fame

I worked my fingers to the bone made myself a name

Funny I seemed to find that no matter how the years unwind

Still I reminisce 'bout the girl I miss and the love I left behind

My eyes adored you though I never laid a hand on you

My eyes adored you like a million miles away from me

You couldn't see how I adored you”

Catra was loving the freedom that came with being on her own, and the opportunities that were opened up to her by being in a central city. It didn’t take her long at all to build up a strong network of references and get the pretty high profile jobs newbies desperately vied for. She was right where she asked to be, traveling all over for photoshoots as an assistant in a year. The hours were long, and sometimes felt more like torture. Still, in three years, she had her own open gallery and the personal studio in the works. It was everything she had ever wanted.

It got lonely sometimes. Somehow she and Adora never talked anymore. It was no secret that her best friend had been in love with her for ages, there was no hiding it. Honestly, she had expected the girl to ask her to stay. Confess and try to find some compromise for them to make things work. When it didn’t happen though, Catra was a little hurt.

Sure, Catra had met a lot of people here. Even tried dating after a while, but it was really only people she worked around. Constantly she found herself comparing people to Adora though. Nobody could replace this girl who knew her backwards and forwards. Her every thought, her every hope, every dream. Nobody got lucky enough to have two of those in her lifetime, and she had stuffed it all up.

“All my life I will remember how warm and tender we were way back then

Oh the feeling, sad regrets I know I won't ever forget you

My childhood friend”

The rift between them now was Catra’s fault. Initially, she thought it would be good to give Adora her space. Let her move on. Still, Adora was great. She sent supportive messages, kept her updated about her life and asked about Catra’s. The perfect friend, just like always. Catra was swamped though, and way too in over her head to be wrapped up in a social life. She always promised herself she would text, call, or email Adora back later. Later never came though, and before she knew it a year had passed. Slowly but surely the messages from Adora became less frequent and basically stopped all together.

Over the years, Catra kept trying to focus on her work. This was why she left. This was what her dream was. Was it worth it though? She couldn’t seem to convince herself it was. She had feelings for Adora too, feelings that had never gone away after all this time. Maybe her dream had changed, and she was too prideful to admit it to herself. Maybe she could have been happy, traveling a bit, but still settling down back in her hometown. All of the ‘What if?’ questions drover her absolutely crazy. Even having accomplished what was supposed to be her ‘calling’, she was miserable. Did Adora even miss her one bit? It had been over a year since Catra reached out, texting Adora pictures of her favorite things. Nothing came back though.

One day when Catra was cleaning up after a shoot, alone in her studio, she found a letter that was stuck behind the computer on her desk.

Worried it was from an unanswered client, Catra reached behind to grab it. As soon as she saw who it was from though, she froze. Adora, her Adora. How did she know about this studio though? It was one of her newest.

She hopped up on the desk, using her claws to tear the top open. Out flew what looked like a note card. Quickly, the girl jumped up and grabbed it from the floor. Turning it around her eyes went wide. It was the first picture Catra ever let Adora take on her camera. Freshman year, they had been messing around, and Catra was reaching for the camera that Adora held towering over them. A moment which resulted in what was a true fluke on Adora’s part, since the photo came out as both of their favorites. The girl did not know how to zoom in on the camera, let alone use one. Still, it captured perfection in Catra’s eyes.

The two of them curled up in Adora’s bed with rainbow twinkle lights wrapped around the bed posts. Them, face to face, noses touching due to Catra trying to reach for the camera. Everything else was out of focus in the most perfect of ways though, the lights seemed to morph into a heart around them. Adora wore a telling smile, and Catra was blushing from being so close. That picture captured the moment Catra realized Adora had true feelings for her, and that she wasn’t alone in them.

Rolling her eyes, which were starting to tear up, Catra moved to shove the photo away. The letter was probably just a casual catch up, or some sort of announcement that she had found ‘the one’ and was going to settle down. She couldn’t take reading that crap. Still, how would she get any work done if she left yet another ‘what if?’ lingering over her?

Taking a deep breath, she turned the card over and began to read it.

‘Hey Catra,

Been too long, and I’m sorry about that. Lost my phone a year and a half ago, but felt like I was keeping in touch by following your work. I didn’t think it was possible, but you have gotten so much better! I am so proud of everything that you have accomplished. I see why you had to get out of this town to do it, too. I still show off all of your shoots around town, and they all send their congratulations too. Anyways, I found this while I was packing. My team won and are going to nationals. They’re being held in New York, and I just wanted to let you know I’ll be stopping by your studio. Let me know if you have any free time.xx

Your Adora’’

At the very bottom of the picture was Adora’s new number, and the dates she would be out there. Catra quickly pulled up the calendar on her phone and chewed her lip. She would be out here in a month’s time. That was close. Close-ish?

“So close, so close and yet so far”

#mine #catradora-week #catradora week Day 1 #spop #she ra #catra #adora #she ra fan fic #spop fic #catradora fic #my writing

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diveronarpg · 6 years

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Congratulations, PIKA! You’ve been accepted for the role of PORTIA with a faceclaim change to JESSICA VU. Admin Rosey: Be still my heart, for it has been captured ruthlessly and quite brutally by your interpretation of my darling, my sweet Pandora. “ …there’s a hubris to pandora that intrigues me. everybody sees life through a window, and pandora is no exception. she prides herself on her pragmatism and her ability to cut through the whimsical bullshit that others fancy. and maybe that helps her see the world more clearly.” It was in the beginning of your application that I noticed you captured the cruz of her character and for that, I thank you. I can’t wait to see our machina on the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

Out of Character

Alias | pika

Age | mythic. timeless. 18+ lol

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers or they/them/theirs, i’m not picky!

Activity Level | hoo man i try my best but i’m a full-time student with a bunch of stuff on my plate. I’m really good about tracking the dash on mobile, and i promise to be on to write every other day unless i let you know otherwise!!

Timezone | pst/gmt-8

Current/Past RP Accounts | jake. hugo. mallory.

In Character

Character | PORTIA, or pandora linh phan, with a fc change to jessica vu! (you might need to age her down a year bc jessica is only 19 but idk if it’s super feasible for someone that young to be a captain?? oof idk ur call adminnies!! or if it comes to it i’m ok with using jolie LOL i just prefer jessica.)

What drew you to this character? |

listen, i fucking love portia. the paradoxical free spirit who binds herself to the most minutiae of the rules? someone who simultaneously adheres to and flouts convention? a lawyer who uses her words for mercy? BADASS.

and then. AND THEN. you all reimagined her to be even more badass, which is certainly impressive. pandora isn’t a direction i would have imagined portia to be taken in. this is not a woman who would manipulate the law as an agent of mercy (though i imagine she certainly could, if she so chose to). no, this is a portia who has chosen to use her keen intellect in pursuit of the truth above all else, a product of the machinations imposed on her throughout her entire life. as an heiress, there have been strings cast upon her since birth. she has simply grabbed them to take control of whatever facets of her destiny she could.

but to return to the question, i think what really drew me in to pandora’s character was the lingering paradoxes you teased in her skeleton. for all she appears to be an unstoppable, calculating machine of a woman, a part of her still fears the inexplicable. though she might seem callous toward even her family, she wants to use her influence to help others—i imagine that in a world where she was not sent to the mob, she would have ended up a major humanitarian. i think it’s easy to be misled by pandora, to see only her calculating exterior and not dig into her underlying belief systems. she may be sharp enough to see and understand things about the world that the rest of us may not pick up on, but that ability has almost certainly strongly shaped her own views. the possibility of exploring the inner workings of someone so complex is something that makes me giddy on its own, and that’s before you even factor in the possibility of character development, because…

…there’s a hubris to pandora that intrigues me. everybody sees life through a window, and pandora is no exception. she prides herself on her pragmatism and her ability to cut through the whimsical bullshit that others fancy. and maybe that helps her see the world more clearly. but i think it gives her a very deliberate blind spot when it comes to her own weaknesses and the strength of mankind; she can predict what man’s folly will lead to, but i don’t think she’s had enough experience with positive relationships to understand the strength of human bonds. so there’s a lot to explore there, as well! and all of that’s before you start talking about her role within the mob and its interplay with her pre-existing heuristic reasoning omg. this is a girl that was forced into a war and turned it into a game. there are just a lot of layers to explore within pandora, is what i’m trying to say, and conflict between the various aspects of self that make up her identity.

ALSO HAVE I MENTIONED I LUV BADASS LADIEZ BC WOWOW I RLY DO UNF

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

foul is fair and fair is foul:

to build off of what i introduced in the previous section, i think that a major underlying theme within pandora’s character is the notion of control. she is so used to having it—over others, but most importantly over herself—and fears losing it so much that i would love to see it wrested from her. pandora considers herself above verona’s war, in a way; as a captain, she doesn’t touch blood, and as a phan, she knows (or assumes, at the very least) that she has a way out. she is inherently analytical and never impulsive. but this is a game where logic fails in the face of the whims of faux gods, of ambrosia and warfare and the hands of witches. pandora’s been lucky so far in how the world has kept to its unspoken rules, but silly girl. the very otherness that separates her from verona’s darkness may very well doom her to it. let her see she that the best-laid plans have nothing against the hand of god. let her see that she cannot play a game where the rules are a sham.

the quality of mercy is not strain’d…:

pandora is a young captain, especially for only having been a montague for three years. surely, there are mixed feelings about that within the montague ranks. i think her relationship with castora is notable because of how unexpected it was for her to pick up castora as a mentee and how pandora herself wanted someone to show her the ropes. she clearly has ambition and intelligence, but she isn’t necessarily agreeable, nor particularly concerned about crossing the line into insensitivity. what i’m trying to say is that in the mob it takes a certain willingness for action to rise as quickly as pandora has, particularly as someone who isn’t part of one of the traditional mob families. despite what some of the rumors say, it is certainly not because of her wealth or her engagement, what has she done to position herself so valuably in so little time? who has she made enemies of? allied with?

and more importantly, what consequences will these actions have now, particularly during the unrest?

…it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven:

because of how quickly pandora has made herself indispensable to the montagues, i feel like it’s easy to overstate her loyalty to her fiance’s family. but loyalty isn’t necessarily something logical, and pandora’s first loyalty is to her logic. i don’t think it’s impossible for a party to shift her loyalties, whether it be to the capulets, to the montagues, or to finding peace another way. she may have her mind set on serving the montagues but her eyes are not closed to the complex reality of the situation she’s in. perhaps a compelling argument could shift her view.

oh romeo, oh romeo:

pandora’s relationship with roman is something i’d like to explore bc i’m a slut for romantic-coded plots because love seems antithetical to everything pandora values. there’s no logic to love, no real value that seems to be had from it. furthermore, it requires a relinquishing of control, and that more than anything is enough for it to be completely unattractive to pandora. she certainly respects, and to a certain extent cares for roman, but it is duty that binds them.

so i say, let her fall. it’ll be against her better judgement, certainly, and maybe it’ll end well, or maybe it’ll end with disaster. maybe she’ll finally learn to trust roman, and maybe that will lead to something more. perhaps she’ll fall for someone else, a rival, maybe, and their story will end in tragedy. either way, there is something to be said about how love can derail the best-laid plans.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | lol sure i guess as long as there’s some kind of like plot sense to be made yknow

In Depth

In-Character Interview:

The girl they send to interview Pandora-—and make no mistake, it is unmistakably a girl—looks like she could be Pandora’s age. Her blouse is crisply ironed, but the collar is slightly crooked. Her pen is cheap, and so are her shoes. Her earnestness is palpable. She is pretty, but she wears her youth in her face. Perhaps a person in the habit of indulging whimsy could have pictured the two women as roommates, recent graduates worried about internships and graduate school applications. Pandora, however, is not one of those people.

Their passing similarities are increasingly eclipsed by their differences the longer the women sit, the still-nameless girl fumbling with her notes, Pandora perfectly still. It’s easy for Pandora to mask her annoyance with indifference, less so for her to silence the disdain on her tongue. But she does, sympathizes with the girl, even. She does not belong here, that much is clear. Perhaps this is how Athena felt when she was challenged by Arachne.

Eventually, the girl finds her footing. “What is your favorite place in Verona?” she asks.

There’s a moment that, on anyone else, would have been considered hesitation. On Pandora, it reads like anticipation, like the world is taking a moment to prepare itself for the words she is to say. “Would it be surprising for me to say Verona’s library? It contains a rather incredible collection of historical Roman documents.” It’s not a lie, not really. The library fascinates her, but not for the stories it holds in its walls. Rather, it’s the stories that unfold in its shadowy corners that draw her interest. If the girl isn’t a total fool, she can figure out the rest.

And apparently she does, or she is at least willing to take the answer at its face, because she presses on. “What does your typical day look like?” she asks.

“If you’re looking for a jetsetting life of glamour, I’m afraid you must go elsewhere.” Pandora feigns a sigh, twirling a lock of hair around a finger. “I wake up early, drink tea—I’ve recently given up coffee, you know—and meditate. If I have business for the wedding, I’ll tend to that; if not, I’ll study.”

There’s a look in her conversation partner’s eyes that seems akin to doubt. Ha. Certainly a recent graduate, then. Pandora smiles benevolently, but her eyes are cutting. The girl has shown weakness. “You seem surprised,” she says lightly. “I know it’s been going around that I’m taking a year off of schooling for the wedding, but you don’t think I’d be content as a trophy wife, would you?” Her parents had, and look where that had gotten all of them. She doesn’t sneer, but it’s a close thing.

The girl can’t meet her eyes, so Pandora continues. “Anyhow. I’ll usually spend the afternoon attending to family business, either my own or the Montague’s.” And wasn’t that the truth. “I try to meet with my fiance in the evenings. And at night?” She tilts her head coquettishly, but on Pandora, the action reads almost predatory, the gaze of a panther deliberating a strike. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“And what of Montague’s more…nefarious business dealings? Do you have any comment on those?”

Huh. Perhaps the girl has more backbone than Pandora credited her with. A single, impeccably groomed brow rises.

“I do not.”

The girl swallows, then continues. “Okay, um…well…What has been your biggest mistake thus far?”

Pandora laughs, and the sound is beautiful but out of place, uncannily youthful from a creature that seems to transcend conventional labels. It’s easy to forget that Pandora is young, barely out of girlhood herself, worlds apart as she is from her interviewer.

“Darling,” she says, “I don’t make mistakes.”

She knows what they say about her, how they call her bella macchina, how they quaver before her ruthless pragmatism. Was it so bad to lean into the reputation? There were worse things to be associated with. And looking at her, content in her realm, a spider in the orb of her nest, it is so, so easy to believe. It is easy to forget that it is not her dominion, that Verona is not her land and the Montague-Capulet fight is not her fight, in the strictest sense. But nobody is as acutely aware of the reality of her situation as Pandora is. She is but a tool.

And thus, her mistakes are not her mistakes. It’s logical, really.

She has shaken her interviewer. That much is certain. But Pandora must give the girl credit, because she pushes on. “What has been the most difficult task asked of you?”

Pandora could recite a litany, if she so wanted to: becoming a Montague, being the Phan her parents intended, swallowing her knives instead of spitting them, unlocking the gilded cage her birth placed her in.

“Taking a break from school.” She sighs, and this time there’s a sort of truth to her wistfulness. It isn’t that she dislikes taking a more prominent role within the Montague family—to the contrary, it has been one of the most exciting experiences she has been able to apply herself to. There’s something about the unpredictability of mob life that challenges Pandora in a way that few other things have been able to. Though she likes the satisfaction of conclusions predicted, of victory strategized four steps in advance, there’s something exhilarating in being kept on her toes. However, she has a raw love for learning—for bettering her understanding—that is unique from her love for the game. There’s a comfortable reliability to the rules in academia, a safe expectation of how things are to react. And recently, she sometimes misses the reliability of writ law, despite the new opportunities Alvise’s death has unlocked.

Perhaps it would be more apt to say that coming to Verona has been akin to opening Pandora’s Box. What a joke.

The interviewer pushes Pandora out of her thoughts. She has been saying something that Pandora could probably recite later, but didn’t particularly care enough to consider. Eventually, she reaches another question. Her last, if Pandora remembered correctly. And Pandora always remembers correctly. “What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

Pandora averts her eyes; she is not so proud to pretend that she is a good enough actress to hide the hunger in her eyes. “I don’t understand it.”

It’s not a lie. War, as a general concept, is inherently paradoxical—and that fascinates Pandora. The way that man has tried to civilize it, put rules to it, when it is ultimately a series of acts that defy basic human ethics, the one set of laws all decent men ought to follow. The attempts to moralize it. The strategy involved, the balancing act between victory and order and understanding. Understanding the philosophical notions of war is one of the few universal perplexities that Pandora itches to scratch, a puzzle that she can’t immediately solve.

Of course, in the meantime, there’s always the art of war to busy herself with. That, on the other hand, comes naturally to Pandora, almost frighteningly so.

She finally meets the girl’s eyes. “You can understand my concern, of course, especially for my fiance.” She clutches her hand in a gesture that could be mistaken as one of disquiet. “Dearest Roman…as long as this rages on, there’s a target on his back,” she says entreatingly.

Of course, she neglects to mention that there is a matching mark on her own.

Extras

a playlist:

control - halsey // runnin’ (interlude) // kehlani // pride - kendrick lamar // oh no! - marina and the diamonds // biking - frank ocean // woman (oh mama) - joy williams // talking to myself - gallant // never catch me - flying lotus feat. kendrick lamar // bite - troye sivan // power - kanye west // keep ya head up (jhene aiko cover) - tupac

hcs & misc. bits

Pandora graduated summa cum laude from her undergraduate program, where she studied economics and public policy. Technically, she’s a law school student—as her day job, if you will—but since Alvise’s death, she’s taken a break to focus on her work as a captain (or, depending on who’s asking, to focus on her engagement).

Pandora is fascinated by the Witches. They fall under the category of things she cannot explain, and that simultaneously frightens and attracts her. She spends a fair amount of time at the Museum, as a result.

Pandora is notoriously dismissive of things she finds wasteful, but she’s actually very into fashion and art.

Pandora is pretty skilled with languages. She’s fluent in Italian, English, and Vietnamese. She’s passably conversational in German and Mandarin, and can speak enough Japanese to conduct business.

Pandora doesn’t touch drugs or alcohol if she can avoid it. She’ll partake in wine socially, but otherwise avoids mind-altering substances. After all, her mind is her greatest asset. What is she without it?

mbti: istj-t

enneagram: type 6

likes: documentaries, oolong tea, louboutins. being right. victory, as a general concept. puzzles, especially crosswords. granita.

dislikes: people who chew loudly. empty rooms. foolishness. coffee. being called dora.

aesthetic: the click of heels on a polished marble floor. the smell of lavender at night. the rush of air that leaves your lungs when you exhale. a piece of ice melting on your tongue. the pre-dawn hour, when the world is a breath from still and light barely dusts the sky. falling, falling, falling down a rabbit hole. the knowledge of victory. gold on steel. the refraction of light through a shattered glass.

#accepted: portia #accepted

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