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queenshelby · 3 years

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My Friend’s Father (Part Nine)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut, Domestic Violence, Angst

Words: 3,064

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Almost a week had passed since you stayed with Cillian at his unit in Galway and, despite the fact that he was away, things had further developed between you as emotions grew with every day.

He was different to any man you had ever been involved with and, whilst your involvement with each other stemmed from purely sexual lust and hunger, you had evolved from this to something different entirely within a matter of days.

Of course, you knew each other for years and, whilst you had a crush on Cillian for as long as you could remember, you never thought that it would be like this and, for Cillian, this feeling had never been mutual.

Whilst he always considered you to be attractive and very intelligent and kind, he never felt any emotional connection or sexual attraction towards you, at least not until that weekend when you visited Denise, which was also the first time he saw you again after six months had passed.

On that night during which you slept with each other, he let his sexual hunger take over his reasonable thinking mind after he saw you, in his kitchen, making pancakes and you had since, quite openly, talked about it. He saw sleeping with you as a mistake but, ever since that night, he couldn’t get you out of his head.

For you, things weren’t just sexual anymore and you began to feel strongly for Cillian which worried you especially since he was open about the fact that he didn’t know where things were heading with you. The fact that you are his daughter’s friend and much younger than him clearly bothered him and he sometimes admitted to you that he felt strange about building such a strong connection with you. A relationship was not what he wanted but he liked you, a lot.

As such, during the past week, Cillian called you every day after he finished filming and you were talking to him more frequently than you were talking to Denise.

During his breaks, he would also text you and check in on you as you were in the middle of exams. He always remembered when you had a test and asked you how it went and, when you told him that you didn’t feel confident with your results, he reassured you that you probably did well and, even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. According to him, a pass is a pass and you needed to lower your expectations of yourself just a little.

To your surprise, he also remembered appointments you had scheduled and things that bothered you which meant that, unlike other men you had been with, he was actually listening and was interested in what you had to say.

Some nights, you had spent hours on the phone or Skype, joking about things you had encountered that day or talking about books, literature and music, which is something you both enjoyed.

Politics and social issues were other matters you could discuss endlessly and, even when you were of different opinions, you would be able to argue in the most satisfying way. Cillian always treated you as an equal and even opened up to you about his divorce from Denise’s mother recently.

Another thing you learned from Cillian was that Denise was brining along her friend Amalie to Manchester to stay at his apartment and, when you gave him a warning about her and her intentions, he reminded you that he only had eyes for you. In fact, he always showered you with compliments and all of his compliments were genuine and came natural to him, helping you immensely with your self-consciousness.

Unfortunately, whilst you enjoyed how engaging Cillian was with you every day, like a teenager in love, with the constant text messages and calls, your father soon got suspicious and confronted you about.

****

“Dad, I am almost 22, you don’t need to be spying on me” you said somewhat frustrated as he asked you who you were talking to every day.

“You live under my roof and you answer me young lady” he said harshly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just as your mother stepped in, trying to calm him down. Your father was much older, approaching sixty and fairly old school in the way he expected you and your sister to behave.

“A friend…I am talking to a friend” you explained and your father asked again, telling you not to lie to him because he would know.

“And this friend of yours, you can’t meet him…you just text and talk? You can’t bring him to our house and introduce him?” your father asked along with a million other questions.

“No, I can’t. he lives in Dublin and I, most certainly, wouldn’t bring him into this…” you said somewhat irritated by the interrogation.

“Dublin, huh? So, you met him when you visited Denise?” he asked and you nodded.

“It’s not her brother, is it? Because I really don’t want you to get involved with him. I don’t like this family and their views” your father said harshly, causing you to chuckle.

“Their views?” you asked somewhat surprised and your father nodded.

“Yes, their views on what’s right and wrong. If I recall correctly, this girl you call your friend was going out with someone of the same gender for a while. God didn’t tell us to do this but her parents obviously didn’t have an issue with it which, apparently is called new age parenting. Everything is pro choice and lets their children decide what is best for them even if they lack experience” your father went on to say and you couldn’t help but shake your head at his absurd commentary but, he continued and you soon learned what had happened between your parents and Denise’s parents many years ago, before which your mother had called Denise’s mother her friend as well.

According to your father, Cillian had voiced his opinion to your father when it was found out that your sister was pregnant following a short affair with a man she had met through university.

Cillian’s ex wife had told your sister that she had options, causing your father to get rather angry with her, which is when Cillian stepped in, supporting what Denise’s mother had said.

She had offered your sister help but your father considered this to be a betrayal and, whilst your mother maintained contact with Denise’s mother for a while, your father refused to get involved with Denise’s family thereafter.

Cillian’s often all so public views angered him and he made this very clear. He didn’t want you to be involved with his children and you couldn’t help but laugh about the irony of it all when you found out about this incident.

“Jesus Dad, that was years ago and not everyone has to have the same views as you” you said before confirming that you weren’t seeing Denise’s brother.

“No, they don’t, but I am just looking out for you and, instead of acting the way you do, throwing yourself at guys with new age ideas, I would much prefer if you met a nice young catholic man” your father explained, causing your mother to fume in anger with him.

“Throwing myself at guys? Listen, I am not sure what slut you think I am but it’s nice to know that you think so little of me” you said before storming upstairs and into your room.

Having to deal with this crap bothered you and you knew that, when this semester came to an end, you could be moving out now that you saved enough money for a bond and rent.

*****

As the evening went on, you spent all of your time in your room, reading a book until, finally, at around 9 o’clock you saw a notification on Skype.

‘Hey Beautiful’ Cillian said as you picked up and popped in your headphones.

Cillian apologised for calling through so late and informed you that he was finally able to speak to Laura, the woman he was seeing before you.

He knew that you wanted to know about it and he had no problem telling you what you needed to hear while telling you that you had absolutely nothing to worry about.

It was Laura’s first day back on set after a week-long break and Cillian told you that she wasn’t exactly impressed when he stood her down.

‘She probably likes you…I can understand that’ you said calmly but Cillian told you that he was pretty clear with her about what this was between them.

‘Well, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her’ he went on and you were quite happy to change the topic by this point and told him that you were aching for him.

‘Well, I am not sure that I can help you with that’ Cillian chuckled.

‘We could have Skype sex I suppose’ you giggled.

‘Skype Sex?’ Cillian laughed before telling you that he didn’t think that this would be a good idea since you were at home with your parents and you had previously complained about the thin walls of the house.

‘Oh Jesus Cillian, my father already thinks I am a slut, so I personally don’t care if anyone hears me getting myself off. I’ve got my earphones in and am the only one who can hear you and my door is locked’ you chuckled.

‘Your father thinks that you are a slut? Do you want to talk about that?’ Cillian asked concerned but you shook your head.

‘I rather not. You met him and know what he is like’ you explained.

‘I do. He takes God very seriously’ Cillian said before continuing on. ‘But, if you have problems at home you need to tell me please. You can stay at my apartment. I can get my house keeper to meet you there with the key’ he offered.

‘You said you were going to stay out of stuff between me and my parents just as I would stay out of matters between you and Denise’ you then said, reminding him on the conversation about your respective roles which you had three days ago.

‘Yes I did, but I can’t if I have to worry about you’ Cillian said firmly.

‘There is no need to worry Cillian. I promise’ you reassured him. ‘Well, actually, I need you to worry about my sexual needs right now’ you then went on to say with sly grin.

‘Through Skype?’ Cillian asked again somewhat concerned.

‘Yes’ you said with a cheeky smile as you settled more into your bed with your laptop.

‘Alright then, show me what you are wearing” Cillian said as he cut straight to the point.

‘Can you see?’ you asked as you adjusted the cam and showed Cillian your dark blue lingerie.

‘Very nice…but…I think you would look even better if you were naked, don’t you think?’ Cillian said somewhat nervously and you nodded in agreement.

‘Well, I suppose I should strip for you and you should strip for me’ you giggled as you seductively took off your bra slowly, showing Cillian your perky breasts through the camera.

You heard him inhale sharply as he watched you and took his t-shirt off at the same time, leaving him in nothing but his CK briefs.

Without words you then scooted back on the bed and removed your undies, allowing him to watch before you sat down on the bed, spread eagle and naked, giving him a good view of your mound.

‘Jesus Y/N, you are so fucking beautiful and sexy…touch yourself for me, nice and slow’ Cillian breathed out and you let his soothing voice wash over you, knowing what he was trying to do and happily helping him succeed.

‘Like this?’ you moaned as you began to run circles over your clit with your fingers.

‘Yes, just like that babe’ Cillian groaned as he shuffled down his briefs and you were finally getting a good look of his hard cock.

‘Oh god, I want to stroke your cock so badly’ you moaned as you seductively opened your pussy lips with your fingers, opening yourself up before reaching for the black vibrator you kept in your bedside table.

‘Well, someone's particularly horny tonight’ Cillian chuckled as he watched you play with your pussy, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You mumbled a small "mhm," and he laughed.

‘Good, that's exactly how I like you, so naughty and needy’ Cillian said as he slowly began to stroke his hard member.

You barely registered his words enough to answer with another "mhm," but your subconscious managed it. Your weak answer elicited another delicious chuckle from the other end of the line.

"Why don't you show me how this little toy of yours works?” Cillian then asked as he watched you eagerly.

“I was just waiting for you to ask” you giggled as you began to run your fingers along your stomach and back up to your chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps their wake before reaching for the vibrator and turning it on.

“Put into your sweet pussy babe, let me see it” Cillian groaned and you moan in response, barely processing his words but still understanding enough to answer and do what he asked.

"I bet your pussy is already dripping” he said as you slid the vibrator into you slowly. He was right, you could feel your wetness pooling.

“I am so fucking wet and I wish it would be your cock inside me” you moaned as you began to stroke the toy in and out of you.

Cillian was groaning on the other side, his eyes full of lust and desire for you and you let out a quiet moan as you watched him with the same desire and hunger while you were pleasuring yourself.

“Good girl, keep going…” Cillian tells you and you moan again hearing it.

“Tell me how much you are aching for my cock” he then said you moaned again.

“I want your cock so badly, fuck…I want your cum inside me, dripping out of my wet little pussy” you moaned, eliciting a groan from Cillian as he began to stroke his cock harder and faster.

“Such a naughty needy girl, aren’t you? I can’t wait to be inside you again and make you cum over and over again” Cillian said with a laboured breath and you are barely listening at this point.

“I want you to cum for me and show me this dripping pussy when you do…I fucking love hearing your moans, so fucking sexy…common babe….let go” Cillian said, knowing that you were close and your orgasm rolled over you as soon as the word 'cum' left his lips, and although your sensitive clit was screaming at your hand to stop, you couldn't.

‘Oh god fuck, yes…’ you moaned as you came hard and fast.

“That’s it babe, don’t stop” he instructed as your moans continuously spilled from your mouth, and you were not even sure what you were saying or if you were forming words at all. The only thing in your head is a deliciously heavy fog and Cillian’s voice guiding you to do what he wanted.

“Don’t stop, keep fucking your sweet little pussy babe” Cillian ordered as he knew you weren’t done and, just as he did, you let out a high-pitched moan, bordering on a scream, as an even stronger orgasm washed over your body.

‘Cum for me babe…I want to see all this cum’ you moaned in return, focusing on the delicious image in front of you as Cillian was stroking his cock and, just when you finally come back down you heard Cillian groan loudly.

“Fuck” he groaned as he stroked his cock hard and fast you watched rope after rope of cum spurt onto his stomach.

‘Oh god, what a waste, I want to lick your cum off your skin so badly” you breathed out as Cillian came down from his high slowly and used a tissue to clean himself up.

‘Stop saying those things or you have to stay on the line for another twenty minutes at least’ Cillian chuckled as he could feel his manhood stir again.

‘Well, I think you shouldn’t cum again until you come to visit me in Galway the weekend after next…I want you to save it all for me’ you said, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow as he pulled his briefs back up.

‘Fat chance babe’ he chuckled, knowing that going without an orgasm for nine days would be rather difficult for him.

Eventually, after a lot of begging, he agreed to try but he wouldn’t be able to make you any promises to this effect.

***

The following day, you went to work and then university thereafter but, when you eventually returned home, your father was in a worse mood than ever before.

‘Can you explain this to me?’ he asked angrily as soon as you walked through the door and you couldn’t help but gulp when he pointed to a white box which he had placed on the living room table.

‘You went through my personal belongings’ you huffed out as the box contained some lingerie and intimate items, including toys, that you were hiding in the bottom of your dresser.

‘Again Y/N, this is my house, my rules and I don’t want my daughter to own filth like this’ he said, after having heard small pieces of your conversation with Cillian on Skype the evening before.

It was obvious to you that your father was appalled and you were outraged that he had been snooping through your room and, as you would later learn, had even tried to access your computer.

‘I can’t fucking believe you dad. These are my personal belongings and you have no right to go through them’ you huffed out and, just as you did, you could feel a sharp strike across your face.

‘Get this shit out of my house and talk to me with some respect’ he said harshly, leaving you speechless and in tears as he walked away, leaving your cheek burning red.

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

Text

A Game of Jealousy

Word count: 4050

This one is focused more from Loki's perspective, lots of fluff (and tickles!) Guest starring Bucky 😎

* * *

Loki never needed anyone to make him happy. He’d spent the better part of his life on his own, learning to rely on himself and not others for comfort. He’d been lied to his entire life by his parents, and while his relationship with his brother was at least improving gradually over time, he still remained very guarded, afraid that anyone he let in would only hurt him the way everyone else in his life had done. No, Loki felt he was better off alone.

That is, until he met you.

You had joined the team about a year ago, just a few months after Loki himself had finally given in to his brother’s persistent requests for him to move into the Avengers tower. The others were polite enough, but Loki could still sense the fear and anger in their eyes when they looked his way. Thor insisted they would warm up to him over time if he’d just try to be more sociable, but it was difficult to bring himself to want to spend time with people who burned holes into his soul with their eyes.

The day you had arrived to move into the tower to join the team, your few belongings in hand, his curiosity was piqued almost instantly. Steve had showed you around that first day, introducing you to all the members of the team. Loki had been in the study, reading in one of the oversized armchairs Tony had furnished the place with, when he saw Steve walking by the doorway with you in tow. You’d paused for a moment, taking a few paces backward to peek inside the room, eyes trained on Loki. He had braced himself for the inevitable exclamation of surprise and fear when you realized that you were living in the same building as the monster who tried to take over the city.

But it never came. You had merely smiled at him, waving in greeting, and introduced yourself as you would with anyone else. Even when he told you his name, your eyes lit up in recognition, but without an ounce of fear. You had hurried along to catch up with Steve after expressing your pleasure to have met him, a slight bounce in your step as you disappeared from sight.

He couldn’t deny it – he was intrigued by you.

Loki’s interest only grew as he began to get to know you more over the next couple of months. The first day he had seen you working with Natasha in the training room, you had impressed him with your grit and determination, not to mention the graceful ferocity with which you fought. And you were smart, too. He’d never forget the day Tony was teasing you, and you’d come up with such a witty retort that even Tony had to applaud you.

Unfortunately, Loki wasn’t the only one in the tower who had started noticing you.

As you became more integrated with the team, the others began to get more physically affectionate toward you. You spent a lot of time with Wanda, often leaning against her on the couch as you watched TV or giving her hand a squeeze when one of you was excited about something. Steve often put a comforting hand on your shoulder after a rough day of training or patted your back in encouragement when you came back from a successful mission. The friendly gestures never bothered Loki to any significant degree.

But there were other team members, notably single team members, whose advances tended to irk him more than the others. Thor was one of the worst offenders, as it was in his nature to wrap any one of his friends into a giant bear hug whenever he saw them. Bucky often liked to push your buttons, teasing you and egging you on until you’d start play wrestling with him on the couch. Even Bruce, on occasion, would wrap an arm around you in a side hug and squeeze you against his side for a moment in silent thanks whenever you’d help him with something in the lab.

He wasn’t jealous, of course. He just… wished they’d give you more personal space sometimes.

You were physically affectionate with Loki as well, which took some time for him to get used to at first. Once Loki started swallowing his pride and began initiating conversations with you instead of waiting for you to talk to him, the two of you became fast friends. He found he didn’t mind it when you squeezed his arm after a jump scare during team movie night, or if you rested your head on his shoulder on a long plane ride home from a mission. Dare he say… he even enjoyed it a bit. Recently, he’d developed enough confidence to initiate physical contact with you himself – giving you a quick hug goodnight when walking you to your room after a late-night conversation or resting his hand on your knee when sitting side by side on the couch.

Yes, you were someone he was willing to tolerate.

One evening, Loki was wandering through the compound, trying to find a quiet place to sit and read. Normally he lounged in the study, but it seemed Peter had overtaken the room with his schoolbooks as he studied frantically for one of his final exams the next day, and he showed no signs of leaving. He decided it would be easiest just to read in his room tonight but decided to swing by the kitchen to grab a glass of water before making his way back there.

As he paced down the hallway, a sound coming from the common room captured his attention. He drew near enough to the door to elucidate that it was your bright, infectious laughter that he was hearing. His heart swelled at the sound. Loki very much enjoyed making you laugh, often telling you embarrassing stories of Thor from their childhood, or otherwise whispering inappropriate jokes in your ear during team meetings, just so he could hear you snort before erupting with giggles. He reached the common room and stood in the doorway, trying to identify the cause for your hysterics.

You and Bucky were sitting on the large sofa in the common room. Although, admittedly, you couldn’t really call it sitting. You were leaning away from the super soldier, giggling frantically and swatting at his hands as he wiggled his fingers into your sides.

“Buckyhyhy! Cut it out!” you ordered, grasping at his wrists. Bucky’s agile hands evaded yours, poking and prodding at your belly and sides.

“What? What’s the matter? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish,” he teased, squeezing gently above your kneecaps, and eliciting a squeal.

A pang of jealousy stung in Loki’s chest. He had discovered your ticklishness a few months ago himself, having accidentally jabbed you a bit too gently in the side during an impromptu sparring session. When he dug his fingers into your torso with more intent, you had shrieked and laughed, but hadn’t pushed away as hard as he knew you could. He interpreted it as you enjoying the playfulness, or at least not minding it all that much. Since then, he had experimented on occasion, proudly discovering over time that you were definitely most sensitive right along your ribs where your back and sides met. He delighted in the silly, giggly mess you became when he scribbled his fingers into that spot, practically melting into his side as your muscles weakened with laughter.

Now, watching you and Bucky as he tested out your vulnerable spots, he felt his throat tighten a bit. He knew he had to find a way to interrupt this little exchange without letting on how he was really feeling inside. Luckily, the God of Mischief knew how to tell a good lie, and above all he most definitely knew how to spin a partial truth.

“You’re doing it wrong, Barnes,” he called into the room, leaning with his forearm propped against the doorway. Both you and Bucky glanced up at him, Bucky’s fingers slowing a bit against the back of your knee but not quite stopping.

“L-Lokihihi! Help!” you pleaded, a bright smile on your face, cheeks tinged with the exertion of your laughter. His heart skipped a bit at the request, proud that you would seek his assistance to escape the winter soldier. But he had to hold firm in his resolve. He couldn’t let you think he was soft for you, after all.

“Now, why would I want to do that? It’s so entertaining to watch you squirm.” He flashed you an evil grin, slowly striding into the room. “Move over, Barnes. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Bucky obliged, an equally mischievous smirk on his face. “Please, do tell!”

Loki motioned to you to scoot closer to Bucky so he could sit on your other side, gently pushing you over when you refused to make space for him on your own accord. You were now sandwiched between him and the super soldier, glancing nervously between the two men. In a desperate attempt to escape, you suddenly leapt to your feet to make a run for the door. Loki predicted your movement, his hands pulling you back down by your waist before you could even fully stand up.

“Ah, ah! You won’t be going anywhere, darling,” Loki teased, holding you in place while he leaned around you to look at Bucky. He ignored your desperate protests in favor of keeping you trapped there beside him. “Now then. First, you must understand that you won’t be able to access her worst spot until you weaken her adequately. Personally, I enjoy beginning right here.” He slid his hands slid around your waist to your belly, fingers drumming tauntingly against your T-shirt. Loki felt your muscles stiffen immediately under his touch, which made him grin.

“Loki! What the hell! Why are you helpihiHING HIHIHIM?” Your scolding of your mischievous friend was made much less intimidating as giggles bubbled from your lips once again, Loki’s fingers having sprung into action, expertly skimming across your belly. Your hands closed around his wrists and tugged to try to remove them from your sensitive torso, but Loki maintained his hold on you.

“Ah, yes, I see that is quite effective,” Bucky noted somberly, his eyes flashing. “Please, continue to show me your ways.”

“Notice that she will continue to fight you when you tickle her here, but trust that her laughter is slowly beginning to weaken her,” Loki continued, conversing casually as if he weren’t torturing you. “However, if you aren’t cautious-“

“Ha!” you shouted triumphantly, having twisted out of his grip and jumped to your feet.

“-she may find a way to escape.”

“That is unfortunate,” Bucky lamented. “What do you suggest if that were to occur?”

“No! No suggestions!” you demanded, defiantly holding out a hand toward the boys to protect yourself. Loki raised his eyebrows, looking up at you with a serious expression, although he was unable to prevent a smirk from pulling at the corners of his lips. You appeared so much more composed on the battlefield and in the training room – seeing you so disheveled, yet still with an involuntary smile on your face, made a thrill run through Loki’s chest.

“If she does escape,” Loki continued, completely disregarding your protests, and trying desperately not to start laughing at your adorably indignant expression, “you simply need to ensure you have a backup plan. Catch her off guard, if you will. Like this-“

Taking advantage of his inhuman speed, he lunged forward and grabbed your leg just behind your knee, causing your leg to buckle unexpectedly beneath you. He chuckled as he watched you stumble a bit on your other leg to try to remain standing but couldn’t maintain your balance and toppled to the floor. Loki swiftly took advantage of your bewilderment at finding yourself suddenly on the ground, standing up and grabbing hold of your ankle.

“Now, you won’t find her worst spot on her legs or feet, but she is most definitely still sensitive here – this can serve to weaken her resolve further,” Loki continued, fully aware that he was causing a blush to rise in your cheeks now as he tugged on your ankle to straighten your leg, yanking you onto your back. You began cursing at him, which he quickly silenced by dusting his fingertips across the sole of your trapped foot. He had discovered this spot a few weeks ago, when you had refused to move your legs to allow him a place to sit. Not to be deterred, he had plopped himself down atop your shins, grinning at you as he had tested your reaction to his fingers dragging up the bottoms of your feet. The frenzied giggles this elicited from you were some of his favorites, only encouraging him to want to continue with the torment.

“But what about her knees? Will that help to weaken her resolve?” Bucky queried, smirking down at you as you shot him a glare.

“Allow me to show you,” Loki obliged, his hand moving to scratch against the delicate underside of your knee. You snorted, then, and he nearly broke his façade by laughing aloud. He experimentally pinched your calf muscle gently, just below your knee, and was not disappointed by your sudden violent jerking of your leg away from his touch. “Ah, a new weak spot. You see, even being an expert at tormenting our little friend, you can still learn something new.” Loki was speaking to Bucky but kept his eyes trained on you, smirking as you beat your fist against the floor in protest.

“I thought wehehe were friends!!” you cried through your laughter. Feeling somewhat merciful, Loki paused his torture and lowered your leg back to the ground, offering you a hand up.

“I apologize, darling; are you tired of this?” Loki asked, holding a hand down to you in offering to help you to your feet. He kept his hand outstretched as you sat up on the floor, your eyes fixed on his, brows furrowed as if trying to decipher whether he was tricking you. Hesitantly, you took his hand. Your skin was pleasantly warm against his own, which almost made him regret what he was about to do.

Almost.

No sooner had your feet rooted onto the ground beneath you did he grab hold of your arm, spinning you around and wrapping both arms tight around your waist. He wasted no time dragging you backward so your back was flush against his chest, his ticklish touch making its way to your lower ribs. You let out a shriek, followed by rambunctious belly laughter. He relished in the feeling of your giggles vibrating against his chest as he tightened his grip around your waist, holding fast against your desperate thrashing.

“If you can convince the girl to trust you,” he continued, having to speak loudly to be heard over your squealing, “an unwise decision, honestly,” he added, his voice rumbling low in your ear, “you may be able to trick her into falling into your trap.” You screamed his name as he walked his fingers agonizingly slowly up your ribcage, your fingers hooking around his wrists and pulling desperately at his hands.

“An excellent tip, thanks for that,” Bucky teased. You whined at his words, which somehow only made your laughter even more adorable. Loki had the sudden urge to squeeze you tighter and nuzzle his nose into your neck, but he thought that you might interpret such a gesture as a flirtatious advance, and he didn’t want to spoil this little game.

At this point you were doubled over, hands weakly tugging at Loki’s fingers as your muscles began to fatigue. Loki could sense that you were leaning more and more of your weight on his arms as you tired, forcing him to tighten his grip even further to keep you from collapsing onto the floor. He slowed his torment a bit, allowing you a moment to rest. You gasped for air, your chest heaving under his forearms with every breath.

“Notice, Barnes, that she has weakened considerably by this point,” Loki explained, continuing under the ruse of showing Bucky how to torture you. “It is only at this level of exhaustion that you will be able to target her one true weak spot.”

Loki felt you jolt at his suggestion, twisting your torso as much as you could in his vice-like grip to look back at him, wide-eyed. You shook your head, pleading with him. He hardened his expression, albeit with some difficulty as he was struggling to wipe the smile off his face, and he splayed his fingers across your ribs so his fingertips rested just along that overly sensitive spot near your back on each side. You were already giggling, bracing yourself for the inevitable torment that was to come.

“Ahahahaha… please Loki, you dohohon’t have to do thihihis!” you begged, pouting at him. Loki couldn’t help but laugh at that, his heart melting at your tiny frown and protruding bottom lip. For a moment, he considered releasing you. But then again, he was getting drunk off of your sweet laughter, and he wasn’t ready for it to stop.

“Sorry, love – I have to show Barnes how to tickle you properly,” he lamented, a faux sympathetic smile on his lips. Before you could beg him once more and break his resolve, he went in for the kill, fingers drilling into the crevices between your ribs. You screeched, torso jerking in his grip for a moment before going limp as you accepted your fate. Loki knew exactly how to tickle you, his fingers expertly vibrating against your ribcage until your laughter became silent. He finally relented after that, loosening his hold so you could catch your breath but not releasing you yet.

With his arms loosened, he could lean around to get a better view of your face. Your cheeks were bright, small tears of mirth collecting in the corners of your eyes. You still had a smile plastered across your face, so wide it caused your nose to scrunch up the tiniest bit. Loki’s heart fluttered at the sight of you, pleased that he had been the cause of your giddy laughter.

“That was an excellent demonstration,” Bucky observed, winking at you as you groaned. “Could I give it a go?”

Loki hesitated, and you stiffened, already arguing with the super soldier. He had anticipated this might occur, given he was supposedly teaching Bucky how to tickle you ‘correctly.’ Still, the idea of having to watch Bucky’s fingers skittering over your belly or scribbling into your knees made his throat burn with jealousy. If he refused, though, he would almost surely give away his feelings.

Reluctantly, though he hid it well, Loki motioned for Bucky to take his place behind you, releasing you only once Bucky’s arms snaked around your waist. Your pleas for mercy were quickly drowned out by your laughter once again as Bucky’s fingers spidered along your ribcage.

“You weren’t kidding – this is much more effective,” Bucky noted, your resolve already weakened from the prior bout of torment. Loki watched as you leaned involuntarily backward into the winter soldier, your head resting back against his shoulder as you submitted to his ticklish onslaught. Loki’s fingers contracted into a tight fist at his side, willing himself not to intervene and give away his displeasure. But damn it, if watching Bucky’s fingers exploring your ticklish sides wasn’t setting a fire in his belly. It felt as though someone had grabbed hold of his heart in his chest and was squeezing it painfully tightly in their clutches.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Knowing you wouldn’t appreciate if he lashed out at your friend, Loki placed a firm hand on Bucky’s forearm, urging him to stop without saying a word. Confusion etched itself into Bucky’s features as he stilled his fingers against your sides, his grip around you loosening. Your eyes were shimmering with exertion as you looked up at Loki pleadingly.

“I believe she has had enough for today,” Loki stated sternly. He took a step toward the two of you, swiftly scooping you up bridal style in his arms without a second thought. You let out a squeak of surprise as your feet left the ground, your arms instinctively reaching up to wrap around Loki’s neck to stabilize yourself. He turned back around with you in his arms, looking Bucky in the eye. “I’ll be taking her now, thank you.”

Bucky held Loki’s gaze, his face contorting from confusion to surprise, then finally to a knowing smirk. He nodded in approval, waving him off nonchalantly as he returned to his original seat on the couch and turned on the television. Loki carried you out of the room, a fuzzy warmth spreading through his chest as you began to giggle once again, leaning your head into his shoulder.

He arrived at your room, opening the door with his magic so as not to risk dropping you, then turned to avoid striking your head on the doorframe as he carried you inside. Carefully, he set you down on your bed. You sat up, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed as you smiled up at him.

“Your savior has rescued you from the winter soldier’s clutches,” Loki teased, smirking.

“Excuse me – my savior? If I recall, you were the one who nearly tickled me to death,” you retorted, playfully shoving him as he sat down beside you on the bed.

“You enjoyed every minute of it, love,” he smirked, giving you a swift poke in the side to make you jump. You smirked back at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You know, I know exactly what you were doing back there.” Something in your calculated gaze made Loki’s heartbeat quicken ever so slightly.

“Is that so? And what is it you think I was doing?” Loki asked, trying to keep his tone casual and sarcastic to avoid giving himself away. You leaned closer to him, bravely holding his gaze.

“You were jealous of Bucky,” you declared. “You couldn’t stand to see him with his hands on me, even when it was as innocent as tickling. You don’t think I noticed?”

Loki opened his mouth to retort, but for quite possibly the first time in his life, the silver-tongued god was at a loss for words. You maddeningly perceptive thing. You’d seen straight through his little façade and into his heart. Your eyes glowed with the triumph of having silenced the God of Mischief with just a simple observation.

“Do you deny it?” you queried, your grin expanding. Loki sighed, recognizing he’d been caught.

“No, love. I can’t deny it.”

“Good.” Your hand reached up to touch his cheek, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. The shock of your sudden advance was quickly replaced by elation, and Loki kissed you back fervently. His hands found your waist, gently grasping your hips with enough weight in his touch to keep from tickling you. He felt you smile sweetly against his lips. When you finally broke away, Loki lifted his hands to cup your face, resting his forehead against yours. “Now then – I believe I’m owed some payback for the torture you just put me through…”

“Oh, really?” Loki raised his eyebrows at you, grinning playfully. “And how do you intend to execute such revenge?”

“Hmm… Maybe I’ll just take a page out of your book.” The mischief in your eye reminded him uncannily of himself. He suddenly felt your delicate fingers squeezing into his side, making him jolt. Your face lit up with pure joy as you witnessed his reaction.

Oh, he couldn’t be having that.

His arms were wrapped around you in a flash, dragging you into his chest and leaning backward until you were lying on top of his chest in his arms, eliciting a squeal. He leaned in close, his lips right beside your ear.

“Darling, you don’t want to be doing that.”

The room was soon filled with your frantic giggles once again. But this time, you really didn’t try to get away. Because in all honesty, he was right before – you loved every minute of it.

#loki tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #tickle fic #marvel tickle #ler!loki #ler!bucky #lee!reader

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realcube · 3 years

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comfort with the haikyuu!! boys hcs 💝

characters: kenma, bokuto, ushijima, tsukishima, akaashi

thanks to anon for the request (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

ALL AGED UP! (no mature themes though) (i just like the post-timeskip domestic dynamics)

tw// hurt! reader, swearing, mentions of death, fluff, angst if you squint

Kenma Kuzome

bb has cat senses so he can tell when you’re sad

he can also tell bc you do the exact same thing he does when he’s sad, which is cuddle underneath blankets in bed, play animal crossing and blare lo-fi music to conceal your faint sobs

so when he walks into your shared room and notices you wrapped up in blankets on the bed, he does his best to suppress a snicker whicH HE FEELS SO BAD FOR HAVING IN THE FIRST PLACE

like he knows you’re sad but a part of his mind is just like ‘heh, (y/n) burrito.’ like you just look sO FKN CUTE!!

anyway, the first thing he always does when you’re down is approach you on the bed, sneak under the blankets and join to you to become a (y/n) & kenma burrito

also, he might turn the speaker off depending on how loud the music is lol but if it’s at an okay volume then he’ll just leave it on and vibe with you for a bit as he desperately wracks his brain, trying to come up with something reassuring to say

you usually comes up with the something basic like, ‘what’s wrong?’ but i mean, you don’t really mind - at least he’s making an effort and you know it must be difficult for him to think of things to say lol

depending on how sad you are, you might just tell him straight-up what happened or you might text him bc you don’t think you’ll be able to choke out an answer without bursting into tears again

then he’ll ask you if you want to be alone and act accordingly

assuming that you say ‘no’ bc you want his presence, he’ll just recollect on the last time you comforted him while he was down and mimic it tbh

..you always comfort him so well 🥺 and whenever you console him, he always feels so much better so he just thought that maybe if he imitates you, then it’ll work just as well

so he started off by resting his head on your shoulder and whispering kind things in your ear just like you did to him, ‘you know i love you, right?’ , ‘i hope you feel better soon’, ‘do you want me to bring you some food?’

he’ll seriously do everything in his power to make sure that you’re as comfortable as possible

and he’ll stay as a (y/n) & kenma burrito until you feel better or until the sun rises ( *^-^)ρ(*╯^╰)

Kōtarō Bokuto

i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again - he’s such an empath and so overdramatic

so when he comes home from work and you don’t run up to the door to give him hugs & kisses- he’s about to burst into tears himself

so he sulks up to your room now IMAGINE HOW SHOCKED HE IS WHEN HE WALKS IN TO SEE YOU CRYING UNDER THE BLANKETS

emo-mode engaged :(

his hair deflates as he pounces on you and wails, ‘(Y/N)! WHY ARE YOU CRYING?! ARE YOU OKAY?! WHO HURT YOU?!’ (ಥ _ ಥ)

and the bitch dives on you while you are under the blanket, essentially scaring and suffocating you

‘bokuto, get off me!’ you shrieked, wriggling out of his grip and out from under the blanket

when he notices you had escaped the blanket with tear-stained cheeks, he felt even worse

he threw himself into your arms, howling, ‘(Y/N)!! I AM SO SORRY!’

at this point all the blood had rushed to your head and you had kinda forgotten that you were sad for a moment or two

‘bo! you should know you’re own strength by now.’ you muttered, rubbing the underneaths off your puffy eyes

‘I KNOW!’ he wailed once more, burying his face into the crook of your neck

you sighed while rubbing his back, unable to supress a slight giggle, ‘bokuto..’

there was ages of silence between the two of you before he pulled away to look you in the eyes and asked, ‘(y/n), why were you crying before i got here?’

you’d explain the issue to him and he’d do everything in his power to solve it because the way he sees it, why should he try console you when he can just fix the variable that’s making you sad in the first place?

like, if you were just fired from your job, he’ll go full karen and he will call corporate to demand for your job back if you don’t stop him

or if your loved one died, he’ll become a fkn medium or study resurrection

or if you’re just stressed from exams/tests, he’ll just be like ‘why do you need to go to uni anyway?’

‘so i can get a qualification.’

‘why do you need that?’

‘so i can apply for a job.’

‘why do you need a job?’

‘so i can make money, so i don’t starve.’

‘you can have my money!’

you couldn’t help but chuckle at how much life-experience bokuto had, yet he will still so naïve; honestly, you couldn’t even tell if he was joking or not. ‘what if we break up?-”

“DON’T SAY THAT!” he gasped, instinctively tightening his grip on you

Wakatoshi Ushijima

both you and ushijima’s pride did not allow y’all to cry in front of one another

if you ever had to cry, you’d just run to the bathroom, lock the door, turn on the tap to drown out the sound of your sobs and just let it all out

and if he ever had to cry, he’d just do it in the shower

but like- you both knew when the other one had been crying because of their puffy, damp eyes but you both mutually agreed to not mention it

i mean, up until now y’all had both been able to flourish in the relationship while dealing with emotions on your own so why bother changing?

and if anything, you both felt more comfortable crying to yourselves

that was, until today

you had cracked under the pressure of your job - you were simply sitting at your desk in the study room, doing some work then it all just came crashing down

ushijima had just stepped out of the shower in his towel and was currently wandering around the house in search of you, to inform you that he ran out of shampoo so it would be greatly appreciated if you were to add it to the shopping list

but when he entered the study to see you sitting there by your computer, bawling you eyes out..he froze

like he had to do a whole double-take bc he wasn’t sure if he was seeing this correctly

your face was buried in your hands so you didn’t notice him at first but then you heard him awkwardly clear his throat from the doorway and your neck immediately jerked to look at him

it was quite embarrassing for the both of you, ngl

like he was standing there half-naked, staring into your red eyes in hopes that what he saw was just a hallucination

after what felt like hours of deafening silence, ushijima broke it by muttering under his breath, ‘uh, is everything okay?’

‘everything is fine, toshi.’ you replied, forcing a bright smile onto your face as you went back to typing, ‘did you come down here to tell me somethi--’

‘i can tell that there is something wrong.’ he stated, walking towards you while using one had to hold his towel in place and draping the other over your shoulders to pull you into his chest. ‘do you want to tell me?’

you let out a long sigh, resting your cheek against his chest while still staring at the many tabs you had open on your desktop

but ushijima quickly fixed that by taking your chin in-between his thumb and index finger, then turning your face to look up at him,

‘work?’ he hummed his assumption

‘yeah.’ you mumbled, quite surprised at how understanding he was being

but then again, ushijima obviously knows what it feels like to be overworked and burnt out too, so he was able to provide a lot of empathy in that sense

Kei Tsukishima

ok a bit of tsukki slander but i feel like tsukishima would make it worse WEILUBRGBE

wait no well, he doesn’t make it worse but he doesn’t make it better either

like he’ll walk into the living room and see you curled up under a blanket on the couch, lightly sobbing from underneath- and he honestly doesn’t know how to act

this is the first time he’s seen you cry bc usually y’all keep your emotions to yourselves - you’re both v independent like that （￣︶￣)

anyway, mans thinks he can just tease the sadness out of you 🙄

‘awh, is my little couch goblin feeling sad?’ he said shakily, clearly intimidated by your figure lying on the couch, and you could tell he was nervous per his use of the nickname ‘couch goblin’

‘‘TSUKISHIMA, FUCK OFF!’ you barked, hastily wiping away your tears and clinging to blanket to prevent him from pulling it away, as the last thing you wanted him to see was your weary figure just so he could tease you about it

‘bitch, i live here.’ he hissed, rubbing the back of his neck - feeling rather conflicted

on one hand, you seemed serious when you asked him to leave; plus, the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable by staying when you’re already sad

but on the other hand, he genuinely wanted to help

he’d feel bad if he were to just leave his s/o in tears when he could’ve done something to make you feel better

‘do you really want me to go?’ he asked and for a change, not a hint of mockery or sarcasm was found in his voice

there were several moments of silence until you mumbled from under your blanket, ‘no.’ then proceeded to lift up your arm to allow him to crawl under the blanket and join you

he did so, pulling you against his chest so you could sob lightly against his cotton shirt while being engulfed by warm darkness

‘what could’ve possibly went wrong to make the evilest blanket demon cry?’

‘evilest blanket demon’ - that was definitely a new one, and you’d be lying if you said a small snicker didn’t escape your mouth at how monotonously he was able to deliver such a unique nickname

and after years of being in a relationship with tsukki, you’ve learned to find comfort in these nicknames considering they were a big part of how he expressed love

in his vocabulary, ‘you’re so annoying.’ is equal to ‘i love you’

so him calling you an ‘evil blanket demon’ was, in his eyes, the highest and most sincere form of flattery

you eventually tell him what happened that made you sad and he just listens

feel free to ramble on about anything/everything that’s worried you for the last few months bc he’s all ears

he figured that other than make you dinner and hug you, that was the best thing he could do to help bc he was far from a romantic who’s good with words

if he tries to console you verbally it would probably come out like ‘uh, don’t cry - i understand what you’re going through, i think, but like- cry if you want. this must be tough for you, to be honest.’

so he just listens to what you have to say and occasionally inputs a lil’ ‘mhm’ or ‘yeah’

he’s probably the most patient with you so you could stay sad on the couch for the next few weeks, as long as you’re eating the meals he delivers to you and you’re staying healthy, he’ll just let you mope until you feel better tbh

Keiji Akaashi

boyfie material right here

i’m hardly an akaashi simp but he’s probably the best at comforting you while you’re sad tbh

because he’s literally been dealing with bokuto and his emo-mode for god-knows how long so he’s very good with reassuring people😌

also, i just know that this man can detect emotions so well- evEN THROUGH TEXT ISTG

he’d text you the usual ‘goodnight ❤’

and you’ll quickly wipe away your tears that were blurring your vision to reply ‘goodnight 💕’

then he’ll deadass text back like ‘i’m coming over. what’s wrong?’

HE JUST KNOWS!! don’t question it bc he doesn’t even have a logical answer lol

anyway, he’ll arrive and immediately begin with the reassurance before you even tell him what’s wrong

‘you’re coping so well, (y/n).’

‘i’m so proud and i love you so much.’

‘is there anything i can do to make you feel better?’

‘would you like a hug?’

‘you’re beautiful, (y/n). i hope you know that.’

‘do you want me to get you ice-cream?’

a king- 👑

also, you weren’t embarrassed to cry in front of him either bc you had seen him cry before

plus, y’all both established at the very beginning of the relationship that you’d both try be as honest and open with your emotions as possible

so now, you were both sitting beside each other on your bed while sharing a banana split that akaashi made (you put the sprinkles on though so you basically gave it flavour ✨)

akaashi is definitely the therapist friend to so he gives great advice

but if you don’t want his advice and you’d prefer him to just listen, then he can do that too

honestly, he’d do basically anything to make you feel better 🥺

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bazzybelle · 3 years

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Magical Equality Within The World of Mages

I’ve been thinking a lot since I finished reading Any Way The Wind Blows, and there are SO many things that I still need to process. I took my time with reading it, I’ve listened to the audiobook and I plan on re-reading it several times, once I move into my new house and have THAT stress done and over with. I cannot wait to re-read it on my back porch with some iced tea and a notebook to annotate and comment on pretty much everything that gave me feelings.

But for now, there is one massive issue that I want to address, and it plays into the plot for all three books.

Warning for those who have not read Any Way The Wind Blows, this post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution. I am tagging this appropriately, but adding an extra warning just in case.

Huge thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for reading this over and making sure I didn't sound like a rambling mess.

The World of Mages is an incredibly toxic place! This is especially true for anyone who isn’t a magical powerhouse, or stupid rich.

I’m going to not focus on the obvious socio-economic bullshit, because I’m not familiar enough with the British class system to properly comment on it. But if anyone wants to add onto this with a whole meta like that, please do so!

Instead, I’m going to focus on magic use and how detrimental it can be to grow up in this world if you aren’t one of the few who are blessed with the RIGHT kind of magic (I say right kind of magic for a reason, and I’m going to come back to that). I want to focus my attention on three characters (two of whom were drawn into Smith-Richard’s fake promises, and one who was just fed up with it all): Martin Bunce, Daphne Grimm, and Agatha Wellbelove.

1) Martin Bunce: We first hear about Martin Bunce in Carry On. He’s Penny’s dad, a renowned scholar and is leading a team researching the effects of the Insidious Humdrum. He’s a highly respected individual, in his own right. Penny adores him, she only speaks his praises, and I get the feeling she gets along better with Martin, then she does with Mitali. When Penny needs help with Shep’s curse, she trusts her dad to help her after her mother flat out refuses.

While Martin is respected in the community, he isn’t a magical powerhouse. In fact, he isn’t very powerful at all. Baz makes a cheeky little comment about how he must have come from mundanity with a name like “Bunce”, and he doesn’t teach any magical classes at Watford, he focuses mainly on Linguistics.

Professor Bunce is one of the people taken in by Smith-Richard’s message, and I’m kind of glad he is. It shows that Smith-Richard’s message can reach anyone, even someone as scholarly and learned as Martin. Martin Bunce is intelligent, loving, devoted, and the apple of his family’s eye. But, when push comes to shove, all that does not matter because in the end, he isn’t as magically powerful as his wife and kids. How many times has Martin been compared to his wife? How many times has he been compared to his kids? What was it like going to Watford and having to hear about how you barely scraped by in the magical classes? His whole family is obsessed with magic, his daughter's best friend is the Most Powerful Mage. Martin is constantly surrounded by people making comments about power and magic and being strong enough as a magician.

That stuff stays with you... So when you see someone performing magic that can pull you to your full potential, of COURSE you grab onto it and hope that it’s a real thing.

Something interesting to note here; Towards the end of AWTWB, Martin casts a drinking spell, and Baz makes a comment about anyone who could cast that spell in quick succession doesn’t need a power-up. Now, was Martin truly not powerful, or did he just not have the right type of magic? Could he have been a better magician if he was able to find the right situations where his magic responded better? If he was allowed to learn in a way where his magic could have reached its full potential, without the use of a horrible curse?

I have a teaching background, and I’ve worked with a lot of kids in Inclusive Education. I’ve had to differentiate practically all of my lesson plans so that all the kids in my classroom would understand the lesson and be able to reach the goals outlined for them. Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve taught, but I look at stuff like this in the World of Mages and my teaching ear perks up.

2) Agatha Wellbelove: Another person who comes to mind, especially with not having the right kind of magic is Agatha Wellbelove. Agatha does not see herself as a very strong magician. She tells Simon that magic for her is like holding a muscle. Pair that up with a mother who is OBSESSED with magic and power and who’s got the most power, and which magical matches will bring about powerful children, and you get someone who becomes resentful of the whole effing thing! I’m not even going to touch the whole “dating the Chosen One” thing because that’s a whole other can of worms.

When we first meet Agatha, she’s already fed up with magic, and wants nothing to do with it, and I can’t say I blame her. She spends all of Wayward Son running away from magic, and meandering through life, being still so unsure of herself and of her place in the world. She calls herself a poor excuse for a magician, yet she manages to save both herself and Penny from the NowNext by summoning fire! That’s a huge flipping deal! Not everyone can do that, yet Agatha is able to summon the power inside herself to do so! Imagine the wonderful magic she could have done if she was taught in a way that spoke to her.

In AWTWB, she is the ONLY person who is able to get through to the Goats. Her magic seems to be connected to nature (if I had to guess). The Dryad, all the way back in Carry On, tells Simon that she and the others find Agatha “peaceful”. That’s her magic. Agatha was able to come full circle by finding peace with the magic she has. She was able to find a place for it. What’s sad is that she felt the need to run away and not want to have it in her life anymore. Her magic is beautiful, yet not enough.

3) Daphne Grimm: So, this is the character that stood out to me the most. Daphne is the reason I even wanted to write this commentary. Those of you who know me, know that I adore this character. Partly because, I’m obsessed with the idea that Baz has people looking out for him and who care about him.

Anyway, Ms. Daphne Grimm is the apple of my eye essentially. I love her, I adore her, and she is treated SO UNFAIRLY by the World of Mages.

What do we know about Daphne? She is Baz’s stepmum, and has four kids with Malcolm. From the first book, there are snarky little comments about Daphne’s lack or power and magic. Baz himself makes a shitty comment about how Daphne’s “blood is as thin as gruel”, even though Daphne goes out of her way to make sure he’s got food sent to his room. She’s extra careful in making sure Baz feels safe in his own home. She suggests to Malcolm that Baz should see a therapist for everything he’s been through, making her the ONLY parent who not only acknowledges her child’s trauma, but tries to do something about it!

She is a GOOD mom!

Ok, we know that Baz wears a ton of masks of indifference in Carry On, and he softens up tremendously in Wayward Son, calling her lovely while teaching him to drive a car.

We learn a lot about Daphne in Any Way The Wind Blows. Namely that Fiona has some pretty nasty opinions about her. (That comment about her kids not being legitimate, and that she’s as “thick headed as she is thin blooded”. Now, imagine you’re Daphne, and the widower of the Great Natasha Pitch asks to marry you. That’s already some MASSIVE shoes to fill. You accept, and you do the best you can, taking care of his son and being a positive presence in his life, meanwhile going to all these posh functions where EVERYONE talks about power and magic. Then to have the sister of your husband’s first wife make snarky comments about your level of power and magic.

That stuff sticks with you.

Daphne doesn’t want her kids going to Watford, the ONLY magical school in the UK (as far as we know). She wants her children to succeed and be known for everything they are capable of doing, instead of being ridiculed for all the ways they’ll come up short. According to Baz, the only reason Daphne graduated from Watford was because she was smart enough to pass every exam (yet, Fiona still makes snarky comments about her intelligence).

Daphne is well aware of how painful it can be to live in the World of Mages and not be a powerhouse magician. Like Martin, she takes matters into her own hands and seeks out a way to make herself more powerful.

It is heartbreaking to look at these three amazing, beloved characters, and think about the suffering they have had to endure by their peers. Both Daphne and Martin get frustrated when those around them question their choice to follow Smith-Richards, stating “you don’t know what it’s like”. Luckily for Daphne, Baz makes an effort to actually understand her, and doesn’t judge her. Even when Fiona mocks her, Baz defends his stepmum. When Daphne berates herself and compares herself to Natasha, Baz reflects on how Natasha would have killed him (something Daphne would NEVER do to any of her children).

We know that Watford did not allow magical creatures, or differently-abled magicians (I use this term for a reason) to study there until the Mage came around and allowed everyone into Watford. This was a great thing, because now, every magical child was given the opportunity to learn how to speak with magic.

However, it should not have stopped there. I spoke earlier on differentiation and on finding the right place for everyone’s magic. What if magicians like Martin, and Daphne, and Agatha are all powerful in their own right, and they just haven’t found their place where their magic fits? Instead of finding the right way to teach these magicians, they are left to struggle and ultimately resent their magic and the magic of the world around them.

Do I hear a social commentary on the state of standardized education? I can’t really comment on the British Educational System, nor the American one, as I am Canadian. What I can say, from my own experience in Canadian classrooms, is that for all the talk we do on making education inclusive, there is still a big push from higher ups for high grades and standardized testing. If any of my followers are British or American and care to share your two cents, feel free to do so. Let’s keep the conversation going!

I think this post might have gotten away from me. I think my point was to act as a defense for people like Daphne and Martin who found themselves fished into a scam all for the promise of feeling like they are enough in their world. I also wanted to defend people like Agatha, who did all she could to run away from all of it, only to find the place where she (and her magic) belonged.

I remember having this discussion on Discord, and one of the points that came up was that maybe The Greatest Threat to the World of Mages was this deeply ingrained prejudice over magicians with different sorts of magic. Magicians who need that extra bit of help to find their way.

We’ve seen in this series how these prejudices can threaten to split the World of Mages apart, and it looks like magicians like Penny, Baz, and Agatha are learning from these mistakes. Only time (and us fanfiction writers) will tell how they end up shaping their world for the future generations.

#any way the wind blows spoilers #awtwb spoilers #meta #is it though?#I mean I GUESS #the simon snow trilogy #the simon snow series #magical equality #the world of mages #this is really just a defense for Daphne

134 notes · View notes

binniesthighs · 3 years

Note

hellooo i have read your Han fic and it's so gooooooood you really know how to portray the one and only Han Jisung omgggg. can i ask for a seventeen smut? if it's okay with you. since I'm into Jeonghan these days i really want to know how will Jeonghan react if you two arw bffs since high school then one day things changed, both of you began being so touchy and flirty then he challenges you if you can resist him omgggg like he is so cocky and confident aaaaaah BYE-

aweee thank you so much! I love love love writing for the one and only Han Jisung!! thank you so much for your patience as well anon I’m soooo sorry that this took me an age to get out, but I hope that ya like the product hehe 💕

yjh was here | reader x jeonghan |

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x yoon jeonghan

Genre: fluff n’ smut

Tags: friends to lovers, bit of a comfort fic, bestfriend!jeonghan, cockyandflirty!jeonghan as we love him, lowkey mutual pining, mingyu, wonwoo, soonyoung side characters, coworkers au, mentions of food and mild food dares, mentions of alcohol+getting drunk, mentions of divorce (past), marking, reach-around teasing (r receiving), fluffy unprotected sex, body praising, spicy truth or dare, cuddles

Word count: 4.4k

Yoon Jeonghan had a habit. It wasn’t the worst of habits, but it was the kind that would clutter up your life. Often, you would wonder why he would do it, and why he hadn’t stopped: not even after you had mentioned it so many times.

It had started in high school. High school, that eternity away now. Luckily, your past was riddled with memories of him, and all of the little things that you had shared together; lunches, late nights studying, throwing littler paper wads at eachother from across the room. He would pull at the tie around your neck that was a part of the school uniform just to get a rise out of you. Jeonghan would nap during class, and you would be the one to wake him up with the flick of your finger. On cold walks to school, he would lend you his scarf, and on hot summer nights you’d stay out searching for snacks until sleep drew your eyes down, and he’d let you lean on him the whole walk home.

yjh was here

He wrote it on the first exam you had ever failed in your whole life.

Conversely, he had gotten nearly a perfect score. He was annoyingly good at everything he did. That, or he was just really good at cheating his way through things. When you thought about it, it was likely the latter that was more accurate.

At first you thought it was a joke. It was as if he was taunting you for failing miserably at mathematics II. You were never good at math anyway.

The second time he wrote it was when you had fallen asleep in class. It wasn’t a common occurrence. He’d call you a baby for being scared to fall asleep during class for fear of being startled awake by the teacher. However, this was the week that had been the longest for you: the week that everything fell apart.

Even into your mid twenties, your mother still would never tell you why your father had left that week and you never saw it fit to prod more.

He had written it on a scrap piece of paper after getting you a strawberry milk and leaving it for you on your desk.

yjh was here

Since then, he had taken the opportunity to write it everywhere he could manage. Suddenly his little scribbles filled up the margins of your notebooks; on post-it notes--he’d even etch it onto the skin on your arm in soft blue pen ink. Later, when the two of you had gone on to college, he would sneak into your dorm to write it everywhere he could find. No matter how many times you would erase it from your little whiteboard by your desk, he’d always manage to write it over, noticing immediately that it was gone.

Today, you had noticed that he had slipped it into your legal folder, among other more boring and business-y things and you had no idea how it had gotten there. It must have been sometime the day before, as he had written it on a napkin from the catering company.

yjh was here.

In all the many years that he had followed you from place to place, you must have amassed hundreds of his little notes. You kept the ones that he would give you at work tucked away in a desk, often forgetting that they were kept there until you would stumble upon them, tugging a little smile at your face. The rest of them you kept at home in a little box in your closet, even deeper away, never really knowing why. The act of simply having them was satisfaction enough, in fact, you never really minded a little clutter.

☆彡

With eyes drooping, you scratched away on your yellow note pad, writing a string of nonsense words that sounded important from the presentation. The red setting setting sun reminded you that it was your least favorite time of day: the time where the last work hour of the day would appear to stretch into twenty. Under the table your scratchy cotton work-pants felt even more scratchy than usual. Somewhere above you, the penetrating white fluorescents buzzed like flies.

With a little tap on your shoulder, Yoon Jeonghan was sitting next to you as he always was. Compared to him, you felt as if you looked like an utter mess. Just as he was annoyingly good at everything, there was never a day that he came into work looking less than perfection. Today it was a tweed two piece with a pressed shirt underneath as well as a navy tie adorning his beautifully slender neck. Around his face befell his deeply dark strands of hair which pricked the edges of his rounded wire glasses.

“This is so boring.” He had mouthed to you, adding a pout to the end of his sentence.

You formed the sound on your lips, “Shhhhh”

“I’m just saying!”

“Pay attention.”

You turned your head back to pretend to care about what your boss had to say. Every fifteen seconds or so you would nod your head to make it appear as if you were diffusing the information he was giving out.

Another tap on your shoulder and Jeonghan displayed his pen to you to draw your attention to the margin of your quarterly report print out.

you look really beautiful today, he had written

“Stop it!” You accidentally hissed, garnering the attention of your nosy and equally bored coworker sitting across from you.

This time you mouthed out the words, “No I don’t.”

“~yessss~” Jeonghan curled out his words with his tiny creeping smile

Your knee bumped into his under the ginormous desk.

“Pay attention, ‘Han.”

“Is there something you would like to add L/n?” Your supervisor’s voice cracked in the silence of the room.

“N-no sir.” your head bowed in repentance.

He elder man tsked in a little sound with his teeth. “I know that we’re getting to the end of the day folks, but let’s just get through this all so we can get home...”

Jeonghan’s tweed pants made a little screeching sound against the fabric of yours when you bumped him again under the guise of the desk.

“Screw you.”

Your friend met your remark with a wink, biting the cap of his pen while his eyes wandered down to show you another little message:

yjh was here

and I’m excited for tonight

☆彡

Wednesdays were customary somaek nights where each of you and your coworkers would gather in your cruelly tiny apartment with their own separate dishes for all to share and forget about the troubles of the midweek. As the year was winding down, it was these nights that would get you through the week. With the bodies of the five of you in your tiny living room cramped around your low-set table, you had almost forgotten that the heating in there barely worked.

With each of your coworkers entrance, they would bring in the smell of autumn with them, and the chill of the air outside. On each of their long coats, bits of leaves would cling to the edges of the fabric. Each Wednesday there would be a royal mess to clean up after, but it was Jeonghan who would often stay after to help you. The two of you would end up in your cruelly tiny kitchen, throwing soap bubbles at each other’s faces drunkenly with socks sliding all over the wooden floors. Jeonghan would write another note to stick on your refrigerator, then he would take you by the hands to twirl you around to some unbearably cheesy sounding OST.

Perhaps it was the way that your head would get fuzzy from the soju and beer, but you loved the way that he would twirl you; it was almost like a waking dream.

“Nobody worry! Nobody! Worry!” Soonyoung burst through your door, case of beer in hand. “I’m not late, I’m actually early! Don’t you know that it’s trendy to appear an hour into the party?” When Soonyoung spoke, he had a habit of speaking with his whole chest.

“Took you long enough,” Mingyu whined, popping in another strip of galbi.

“You don’t enjoy our presence, ‘Gyu?” Wonwoo’s mouth upturned into a teasing grin.

“N-no,” The biggest man babbled, “It’s just that...Wednesdays are somaek evenings.”

“--Then I am here to help you out my friend.” Soonyoung plopped himself right down on the floor with the poof of his blond hair popping from his beanie. “Ahhhh this all looks so delicious.”

“You better pay me back.” You griped while serving him a plate of the assortment.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you, Y/n?”

“Nearly every time I do something for you? You still owe me from the last time we went to karaoke.

“--And for covering for your ass last week...some hangover that was, huh?” Jeonghan scooched over his leftover rice to you.

Soonyoung scoffed while twirling his bottle of soju in the air, the admiring the little tornado swirling inside. “-Was worth it though. We always have fun don’t we?” In his affection, he threw his arms around you and Wonwoo beside him.

“-Food’s gonna get cold.” Wonwoo poked his finger in the general direction.

With his full glass raised in the air after a minute of preparation, Soonyoung lead you all in a toast, cheeks already rosy. The second that your glasses collided, liquid came downpouring to the table, but none of you seemed to mind. Before you could bring your drink to your lips, you caught yourself having a moments pause, watching all of your friends before you. If you could have, you wished you could fold up little moments like these as well to put in your drawer to see when you would feel down.

Jeonghan caught your wistful sigh, sending you a wink. In many ways, you knew he must have known your thoughts.

Under the table, his hand brushed up to your crossed knee, letting his hand linger. He let his hand rest there for a moment, as if he was soaking up your essence in the moment. He had never done it before, but his thumb gently rubbed at your knee, and it felt like a waking dream.

☆彡

The night had ticked on, and you and grown more tired than you had expected by pass of the clock hand. As the night would normally progress, drinks would be had, then each of you would take turns updating the others on what you had been doing or working on. All of you would gather advice or support if needed. There had even been times when you would even provide a shoulder for one to cry on, although that didn’t happen most times.

Others, like today, the five of you would simply sit and enjoy each other’s presence with the window slightly cracked open to let the autumnal air cool your burning bodies. Jokes would be cracked every once and a while until yawns would escape your mouths. By then, another joke would be made about how you were all getting to old to be staying up that late.

Jeonghan played with your hair as you had leaned into him, swirling your final glass of soju in your wrist. While you were hot yourself, the heat from his body was still calming, and the way that his chest would rise and fall was a bit like a lullaby.

“I’m falling asleep, we should head out,” Mingyu clapped Wonwoo by the back.

“Another one for the books.” Soonyoung sighed, then rose up with a stretch of his arms, wrinkling up his white button up and loose tie.

“Sweet dreams everyone.” You shift off of your best friend, shuddering a little at the lack of contact, to close the door after them.

“I’m looking forward to next Wednesday!” Soonyoung beams with a little salute, then bows before shuffling away.

“What time is it?” You yawn out the words, rubbing your eyes.

“Too late. We still need to go in tomorrow, remember?”

Dirty dishes clink in your hands as you bring them to your sink. “We really should start doing this on Fridays.”

“I don’t wanna start cleaning just yet, can we stay here for a while?” Jeonghan spreads his arms out, beckoning you to fall back into him. You laugh a little at the motion.

“Why so touchy? We haven’t done this in so many years...I can’t remember the last time...”

You oblige him, nuzzling right up to his chest once more. He smells a bit of the somaek, but mostly of his usual scent: that cheap cologne that you had bought him about a year ago. You had mostly gotten it as a gag gift, but he had worn it every day since.

“Must have been in high school.” His words are long and breathy.

“How come we stopped?”

Jeonghan takes a minute to answer you, and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Instead, he raises a hand to rub at your arm lightly, just as he had done with your knee.

“Dunno. We got older?”

“What does getting older have to do with it?”

You watch in the silence as his thumb continues to rub over the fabric of your long-sleeved button down.

“--Do you want to play a game?” Jeonghan says at last.

“A game? What do you mean?”

“For fun. I’m trying to find something to do so we don’t have to do the dishes.”

“Okay,” You perk up slightly, still not removing yourself from his encircled arms. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Psh what are we, back in high school?”

“Seeing what we are doing right now, wouldn’t you say so?” The words escape Jeonghan’s mouth with a growing grin.

You ruffled to top of his head, messing up his perfectly primped hair. “...Fineeee. You going first or me?”

“I’ll go. Truth.” Jeonghan pulled you back into him, settling your back flush with his chest.

“Okay, truth: did you really mean it when you said that you liked Minji’s power suit? I know you thought it looked tacky.”

Jeonghan’s breathy laugh miffed up your hair. “I’ll say anything if it keeps me in the supervisor’s good graces.”

“HA. I knew it.”

“Which do you pick?”

“Mmmm-truth.”

“Not dare? You’re no fun.”

“I said truth!!!”

“Fine, fine.” His slender arms squeezed at your body to situate you better in between his legs. “When was the last time that you brought someone over to your place?”

“Yo-you mean like “brought someone” over?”

“You know what I mean.” In his voice you could nearly see his mischievous smile.

“I’ve told you about all of them so I don’t know why you’re asking. It’s been about a year.”

“A year? Really?”

“--Nope! You don’t get to ask any more questions. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Jeonghan said without a moment’s hesitation.

Your eyes wandered the room for his perfect punishment. “Ah! Take that soy sauce, the one with the wasabi bits in it...and drink it.”

Your friend sighed, but took the tiny cup in his fingers to down it all in one shot. He shivered a little and you could feel his face scrunch up, but he held his reactions back best he could.

“That was such a high school dare. You really haven’t changed.”

“I thought it was funny.”

“Truth or dare Y/n.”

“Truth.”

“Ughhh truth again?”

“ ‘Hannnn--”

“Just say dare! I promise that I’ll go easy on you.”

“Fine then. Dare.”

“I dare you...to take your shirt off.”

“What?!” Your head snapped back to send him your deathly glare. “Are you being serious right now?”

“What? It’s nothing that I haven’t seen? Are you forgetting that we’ve been friends for nearly our whole lives? That and college you were someone who would go to parties and take your shirt off. Remember that?”

“...yes.” You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Fine then.” In one motion, you pulled your shirt over your head, jumping a little once you felt Jeonghan’s hands help tear it off your arms. You hesitated to lay back, but his arms made a decision before you could, and pulled you back into his chest. Now, it was the skin of his fingers on your bare arms that you were painfully aware of.

“T-truth or dare?” You squeaked out.

“Truth.”

“No fair, you made me do dare!”

“I already did a dare. Truth.”

From the other side of your room, your refrigerator clacked with the sound of ice cubes falling into their tray. On the door, dozens of multi-colored post-it-notes had been suck there with clear tape.

“...Why is it that you’re always writing me those notes? “yjh was here?”“

“Hmm.” He breathed out. “I had a feeling that you might ask me that one.”

“...And?”

“--Because I like to. And...”

Your anticipation hung tangibly in the air. You didn’t quite know it, but you had been waiting for his answer for so many years, you had lost count.

“...And I like seeing them around you. -Reminds me that I’m a part of your life. Kind of like how we exist together. They’re little reminders for you as well...to know that I’m around for you.”

“Jeonghan...” You wouldn’t have expected it, but tears singed the corners of your eyes.

“Truth or dare?” He cooed into your ear.

“D-dare.” Your voice shook, realizations flooding you like rain.

“I dare you to take off your pants. Can you do that?” His voice had dropped, low and gravely.

You nodded your answer, and took to unbuttoning your pants, shimmying them off where you sat on the floor. As soon as your bare legs were exposed, he had found a new place to rest his hands; you never would have guessed for them to be so beautiful-looking there.

“I choose dare.” He breathed onto your bare neck.

“I-I dare you take off our shirt too.” Your face felt furiously warm as you uttered the words and he did exactly as he was told. The sensation of your skin on his skin then sent your head spinning with just how close you had been in that moment, closer than ever before.

Jeonghan’s hands explored your bare legs with a touch as soft as butterfly wings. His light touches sent an aching pain to your sex as it had never felt so needy and neglected.

“Truth or dare my love?”

In an attempt to hide your frustration, you could only form the word, “T-truth?”

“Hmm...truth...” Jeonghan began to kneed into your legs, digging his nails in every so slightly. “Have you ever kept secrets from me?”

“Secrets? Why-why would I, I don’t-mmph-have any secrets to keep from you.”

“I think that’s a lie Y/n.”

Indeed it was a lie. You had kept secrets from him. Two secrets to be exact; one of them being near the precipice for the whole universe to see.

“I’ve kept secrets from you, you know.”

“What?”

“Do you dare me to show you?”

Your anxious breath caught in your lungs, full of confusion but even more excitement. Jeonghan’s hands crept slowly up to your hips.

He repeated, “Do you?”

“Ye-yes. I dare you to show me.” Your eyes had closed feeling his hands draw even farther up your body.

Your best friend surveyed your whole chest with his hands, swirling around as much skin as he could touch. He was careful not to tickle you, but rather give every ounce of your being his careful attention. For a moment, his fingers grazed over your nipples, but went to cradle your neck in his hands. He turned it to the side to expose the beating vein there, and placed the slowest and most tender kiss upon it. From the feeling of his fleeting lips, you whimpered at the sensation.

“Dare.” You managed with a dry mouth. “I dare you to touch me...anywhere you want...please...”

Jeonghan chuckled slightly into your neck. “I just had my turn, but...I’m listening.”

Your entire body keened under his fingertips, writhing messily between his legs. This time, he was careful in touching you nearly everywhere: your chest, your nipples--pinching them slightly--and down your legs, to your inner thighs where he traced up to your underwear, now wetting a little with your arousal.

“Tell me the truth.” He bit into your skin. “Am I one of your secrets?”

Your answer was given to him in the form of you forcefully tearing from his grip to push his legs together so that you could straddle them. The way that his shoulder blades flexed under your firm grip was dizzying. Your eyes fell to his lips: your secret.

“I dare you to kiss me,” You breathed onto them.

“I thought that you’d never ask.”

Jeonghan was smiling as he pulled your lips into his, and he never quite seemed to stop. Every bit of your love for him spilled into his mouth where you found the comfort from him that you had craved for years. You had felt first kisses before, but nothing was quite like this one. With Jeonghan who you had known for so long, you were thrilled to get to know him in this new and different way, and you wanted to absorb every little bit of it: the way he would caress the sides of your face so gently, or the way that he would angle your neck to meet his lips. You would never have guessed to feel so complete with him like this, but it also made all the sense in the world. It was you that he wanted, and you that he wanted to stay next to through all those years. He had never let you go, and you had never let him either.

In between kisses, you found both of yourselves giggling hysterically.

“Are we really doing this right now? Are we...?” You bit a laugh into his lip.

“Yes. I think that we are.” He engulfed you in his grasp. “I’ve wanted to do this for years, Y/n.

Jeonghan scooped you up, moving both of your bodies to the couch where he clinked with his belt buckle to remove his pants. “You really do look beautiful. Everyday. I’m not just saying that.”

You practically clawed at him to lay his body on top of yours, then wrapped your legs around his waist to align him with your own. In your unadulterated intoxication of him, you hopelessly grinded up into him, seeking some kind of stimulation from the mashing of fabric together. After a little scoff, Jeonghan’s hand cascaded down your body to rub at your throbbing sex, marveling in the way that you had soaked though your underwear just a little.

“Wow. This is how you feel about me?”

“Do you want me to say sorry?”

“No--it’s just...I wish that I had known sooner.”

Your lust brought his lips back to yours as you kissed him over and over and over, trying to make up for all of the times that you wished you had done before. His touch on your sensitive skin sent you mewling onto his tongue.

“Can I make you mine now?”

As for your response, your widened legs told him exactly what he needed to know.

In one swift motion, he had tugged off his own briefs, letting free his deliciously hard cock, sparkling at the head with his pre-cum. Looking at him like this, all for you, was like a walking dream.

Jeonghan gathered spit from his tongue to glide over his dick, then teased your impatient entrance while he watched your face contort into the most beautiful shapes he thought he had ever seen. He entered you slowly, letting each of you take in the moment as if you could forget it the next. Once you were together, his brows twitched a little as his closed eyes focused only on you. He filled you up perfectly, as if you were made for him--which you had convinced yourself that you were. Jeonghan buried his face in your neck to suck into the skin, marking you as his.

Your orgasm built much quicker than you had intended, and soon you were begging him to make you cum--which he gladly did. Your heels dug into his back upon your release which gathered more heat between your two bodies. Jeonghan didn’t skip a beat as he chased his own orgasm, fucking you into your own overstimulation and leaving you to melt under him.

“Jeong-han.” You gasped out his name through your teeth as your body quaked from the snap of his hips.

“oh god,” He uttered, tangling his fingers deep into your hair, then smashing his lips back into yours. “you’re so good for me my love...so good...”

Jeonghan let out little grunts as he came and filled you deeply with the warmth from his cum. As he throbbed within you, you knew it really was him you were made for. He lingered inside your walls as your bodies shook together with the aroma of sex fogging the air. After a while, it didn’t take long for both of you to be laughing contentedly into each other’s mouths once more.

Your best friend reached for your hand to bind all of your fingers to his. "No more secrets.”

☆彡

“Do you want the sweatpants from the top shelf or the rack?” Jeonghan called to you through your cruelly tiny apartment. “Wait...i-is this...?”

Once he had returned, in his hand he held the aged strawberry milk carton with the little cartoon fruit on the side and the scrap piece of paper wrapped around it. In the other was your little box of notes.

yjh was here

“I can’t believe that you’ve kept it this long. Why--”

“--I’ll tell you why...it’s my second secret.”

Your best friend cocked his head. “...Second?”

“Ever since that day, I’ve known, Yoon Jeonghan. I love you.”

☆彡

if you’ve got to this point, hehe hello I’m Ro, I write for skz and svt, and I’d love to write some more svt! If you’d like, you can send me your asks

#bestfriendhannie I didn’t know I needed sooo bad #this one actually made me v v soft 🥺#binniesthighs 💌#asks #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen #svt #seventeen oneshot #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles

250 notes · View notes

azucanela · 3 years

Text

interlude

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader. CAN BE READ AS A ONE SHOT.

warnings: cursing. otherwise, fluff kinda.

word count: 3k

summary: the history of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki. or at least, the beginning of their history.

series masterlist

IT SMELLS OF COFFEE AND PASTRIES, it’s a smell Y/N greets each day with joy. Everytime, she found herself grateful that she had elected to work at the café, seeing as it did have a few added benefits— like a free drink and pastry each time she worked, and the salary. And in Y/N’s eyes, baking was a pretty valuable skill, seeing as she couldn’t cook without destroying a kitchen. Though she had tried in the past, most of her attempts hadn’t really ended well, which is why she stuck with baking.

Of course, it was a tad difficult rushing to the café each day after school, especially since it was on the opposite part of her area, but Y/N had found that the cash she made was worth it. And though the walk home could be considered dangerous— well, with a quirk like hers that wasn’t necessarily a huge worry. Although Y/N didn’t really enjoy using her quirk for such things seeing as that would likely result in jail.

She actually intended to apply to UA this year, though if she did get in,Y/N wasn’t necessarily sure she was prepared to give up her job at the café. She’d made friends with a lot of the employees, and the owners as well. It was a nice, local business, and everyone that worked there was kind(for the most part, sometimes the teasing she recieved was a bit annoying). Most of the regulars were fairly sweet as well. Now that Y/N had switched shifts though, she wasn’t necessarily sure what to expect.

Which is why this blond boy had caught her off guard.

“Medium hot chocolate and,” he places one of few bags of chips the café sells, onto the counter, “this please.” He grumbles out. All the chips are lined up on a small rack, and Y/N can’t help but find it a tad odd that he’d selected the spicy variant. Or the fact that he’d selected chips in general seeing as that was odd to pair was with hot chocolate in the first place.

Looking between the chips and him, her brows furrowed temporarily as she said, “odd combination but alright. Your total is $7.02.”

The boy looks to her incredulously, and looking at him now Y/N realizes he seems around her age. “Odd? You’re odd.” Comes his response, tone rather accusatory. It’s an elementary insult, and Y/N probably would’ve laughed at the fact had she not been extremely confused as to why he had even taken offense to her statement. Who has a sweet drink with spicy food? That was just plain abnormal.

“Excuse me?” Y/N asked, watching as he practically glared holes into the cash he placed onto the counter.

Rolling his eyes, the blond looked to her with his eyes narrowed, “aren’t you a little young to be working?” His eyes dart around the shop, and Y/N elects not to tell him that her coworkers are currently in the back finishing up some of their more popular pastries as she straightens her posture from behind the counter.

“Aren’t you a little old to be drinking hot chocolate?” Granted they were probably the same age and Y/N drank hot chocolate frequently herself, but Y/N was starting to get annoyed. And if he wanted to pester her, why shouldn’t she do the same?

Stupid gremlin. The customer is not always right, and Y/N would be damned if she let him believe that.

His mouth gapes open at her words, and she can feel the warm of his hands as she drops the change into the palm of them— his gloves seem to have holes, causing her brows to furrow as he replies, “anyone can have hot chocolate, you heathen.”

Y/N is suddenly reminded that the customer is always right before offering him a sarcastic smile and saying, “well, your hot chocolate will be done soon.” Picking up one of the cups to her side and grabbing a marker, she goes to write his name only to realize she hadn’t asked for one. Meaning she would be forced to interact with the boy again, much to her dismay.

Cursing under her breath Y/N calls out, “hey— hey? Hey blondie!”

The boy has barely made his way to the waiting area of the café, but Y/N is grateful that this isn’t one of their busy hours and nobody else is inside as he whips his head around, practically fuming as he asks, “the hell you call me?”

“I need to know your name, blondie.” Comes Y/N’s response, gesturing to the cup in her hand. He seems to get the message, and Y/N has a feeling he’s questioning her ability as a barista as he looks between her and the cup.

The boy scowls, huffing in annoyance as he replies, “Bakugou.” Scrunching up his nose, he looks away, settling at one of the tables and adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. His foot tapping rather rapidly at the floor, Y/N imagines he wants to leave as soon as possible.

Of course, Y/N finds herself calling out for blondie rather than Bakugou, just to spite him. The boy likely would’ve snatched the drink out of her hand had it not been for the fact that boiling hot liquids tended to be dangerous.

Evidently, the hot chocolate was about as hot as his temper at this point. Y/N wonders if she would feel that same rage by touching him, though she quickly pushes that thought to the back of her mind when she realizes she doesn’t really want to feel angry, nor does she want to touch the hot headed boy.

That would probably prove fatal for her.

APPARENTLY BAKUGOU COMES OFTEN for his hot chocolate. Sometimes he sits by the window of the café, eating his stupid chips. And yet, Y/N is intrigued by his presence, he seems interesting and from the looks of his textbook, he’s trying to get into UA too. Studying hard to ensure he passes the academic aspects of the exam. Y/N had done the same, and there was no denying that UA was a prestigious school from the looks of their courses. And well, attending UA was practically guaranteed success.

Maybe it’s because Bakugou is a questionable person, or because she wants to know more about her possible competitor, but Y/N finds herself coming to his lonesome table by the window, two plates in hand that she places— a lot more roughly than necessary— onto the table, before plopping down into the seat opposite of him. This seems to startle him, as he jumps in his seat, brows furrowing together at the sight of her as he asks, “the hell you want?”

Y/N simply shrugs, leaning back in her chair, “I’m on break and I’m bored.”

“So you decided to bother me?”

Okay, maybe the boy had been working a bit too much and Y/N had become a little concerned, but that didn’t matter because he was still annoying. It’s just that in the past two months she’d seen him more frequently, and learnt a bit more about him so… Bakugou had become tolerable. So Y/N finds herself replying, “yes.” She pushes the plate towards him, “now try something other than those chips.”

He looks between her and the pastry she’s set before him, a simple muffin, and Y/N wonders if he thinks she’s poisoned it. Although, with their track record, it’s a reasonable assumption. That doesn’t stop her from gesturing to it, looking to him expectantly. In response, Bakugou looks at her dully, though he picks up the muffin and takes a bite of it. His eyes seem to widen and Y/N finds herself grinning.

“Shocked I didn’t poison you?” She sits up in her seat, leaning forwards, “was it good?”

His cheeks seem to redden as he looks away, “it was alright.” Comes Bakugou’s response, though he takes another bite of the pastry.

“I like to think my pastries are better than alright.”

Bakugou looks to her, tilting his head as he asks, “you cook?”

Y/N shakes her head, laughing slightly as she replies, “absolutely not. I would probably burn down the kitchen. Baking is a necessary skill here though.” That much was definitely true, she had never been the best when it came to cooking, and it was certainly a downfall of hers seeing as Y/N could not live off pastries.

“Well, I do.”

Y/N tilts her head at him, confusion clear in her face as she asks, “you what?”

“I cook, idiot.” Bakugou replies, clearly frustrated— or more accurately, flustered— that he’d had to clarify.

Y/N simply grins before saying, “perhaps I could judge your cooking sometime then.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, simply glancing to her momentarily before his eyes return to the textbook before him. Though he doesn’t make any attempts to shoo her from the area, causing Y/N to smile as she takes her own plate of food and looks out the window.

It becomes a more frequent thing, Bakugou doesn’t bother to look up from his textbook anymore, though he does eat the pastries Y/N brings along with her as the pair sits in silence. It’s a peaceful thing that Y/N finds herself adoring despite their first interaction. This certainly isn’t how she expected her relationship with the boy to go. But hey, friendship comes from the weirdest of places, right? And Bakugou makes good company when he’s not yelling and screaming at you with a variety of— empty— threats.

It’s quite a curious friendship indeed.

Even the rest of her co-workers take notice of the pair, leading them to ask her… equally curious questions. Or more accurately— nosy questions. Embarrassing ones like those that your relatives ask when they see you after a long while.

“I’m not even in high school yet!” Y/N cried out, scrunching her nose in disgust as she swats away the hand of Lily, she’s a bit older than Y/N. “I do not want to date Bakugou you hag.” Y/N almost cringes at the fact that Bakugou’s language has begun to rub off on her, though she simply inhales deeply as she glares at Lily. Though she seems to be rather pleased ith Y/N’s reaction.

Rosalyn, one of the full time and adult employees, steps in at this. Laughing at her words as she rests a hand on her shoulder, “be kind to Lily. She’s just curious. After all, you do spend quite a bit of time together.” She raises a brow, eyes drifting towards Bakugou, who is seated at his usual spot, “are you sure you don’t—”

Y/N can feel her cheeks warm, gently pushing Rosalyn’s hand from her shoulder as she looks away from the pair. “He’s my friend, and that’s all he ever will be.” She grumbled out, “if anything he’s more of a rival.”

“Have you ever tried to touch him and find out how he feels about you?” Lily asks, a cruel grin on her face. Y/N suddenly finds herself upset that she had ever explained her quirk to Lily in the first place, looking away from Lily as she swatted at her. It wasn’t the first time she’d made such a comment regarding Y/N’s quirk, Lily had even asked for quite a few favors, not that Y/N had ever indulged in her wishes.

“Absolutely not.” It’s an invasion of privacy, similar to if someone with a telepathy quirk searched your mind for your darkest secrets. Y/N wasn’t one to invade the privacy of others, much less Bakugou of all people. And she’d found that even if she swore she’d never do such a thing, there was always that underlying fear that she would in a person’s mind. Y/N could feel the anxiety even if she wasn’t touching them.

Sometimes Y/N wonders what Bakugou would do if he knew the semantics of her quirk. He’d seemed to have caught onto some aspects at least, but he’d never asked. Y/N was grateful for it, but she’d caught his curious glances at the gloves she’d worn since long before they’d met. And if she was honest, she was mainly attending UA to learn how to control her quirk. Being a hero had never really interested her.

And Y/N doesn’t need to look at Rosalyn to know she probably didn’t believe her words, but she decides this doesn’t matter, Y/N doesn’t have to prove anything, to anyone. After all, who’s to say she’ll even see Bakugou after the UA exam. Maybe she gets in and he doesn’t, or vice versa. And suddenly neither of them have the time to see one another.

Not that it mattered.

BAKUGOU DOESN’T EXPECT TO SEE Y/N entering UA, she’s actually speaking to Deku, helping him with his things alongside some other girl when he nearly trips and falls. Offering him a smile, Y/N picks up his journal— that had fallen from his bag— and hands it back to him. Bakugou finds himself observing the interaction in pure shock, his mind skipping right past the fact that Izuku was here because what the hell was Y/N doing here?

He watches as Izuku extends a hand to Y/N, though she simply waves him off as they continue to speak. So Bakugou’s eyes fell on her gloved hands, he’d never seen her without them. They seemed specifically made for her, and he had a feeling that it had to do with her quirk. Which was apparently good enough for her to get into UA High School. Bakugou had never asked about them, scared of crossing the invisible lines they’d drawn in the sand, but he’d always been curious.

Bakugou is still deep in thought when he realizes he doesn’t really have a chance to decide his next course of action, seeing as Izuku seems to notice him first, calling out— “Kacchan! Hi!” He’s waving rather enthusiastically beaming at him. And now Bakugou is left with dozens of questions because somehow Deku was here too.

His head whips over to Izuku, and Bakugou finds himself shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks away. Though Y/N seems to take note of this as she smiles, “Bakugou! I didn’t realize you had other friends.” Her words are teasing, which isn’t uncommon between them, but right now he’s not really sure about what to do because he was kind of hoping Y/N would never meet Izuku or vice versa.

So, Bakugou elects not to correct her, to tell her Deku is definitely not his friend, and instead looks to her incredulously, “why the hell didn’t you tell me you were applying to UA?” She’d definitely noticed after months of joining him in his corner of the café— where he had chosen to study since his mother could be a tad loud, which was rather distracting. Y/N had undoubtedly seen his textbook regarding the UA entrance exam so why hadn’t she mentioned she would be applying too?

Y/N simply shrugs, and she doesn’t seem to notice the look of shock on Izuku’s face as she responds, “I wanted it to be a surprise.” Bakugou is left speechless, and does nothing but watch as Y/N gently taps his nose with a smile, all the while Izuku stands in complete and utter shock, because somehow this girl was still alive.

“Y/N how did you do that? Is it your quirk? What is your quirk—”

Looking back to him, Y/N nearly jumps at the number of questions he’s bombarding her with, stumbling back and bumping into Bakugou, “shut it Deku.” He grumbles out, hand pressing against the boys head and shoving him away. While his other arm braces Y/N.

He’d noticed a while back that she had never been the type for physical contact of any kind, coupled with the gloves, he was fairly sure her quirk had something to do with such contact at this point. Which is why he moves to give her space, only for her to grab his wrist.

Bakugou pauses, meeting Y/N’s eyes momentarily before pressing his lips together into a tight lipped smile. She blinks once, twice, before breaking eye contact and looking back to Izuku with an awkward smile.

“Sorry about that. My quirk makes physical contact a tad…” She inhales deeply, “overwhelming.” Y/N looks back to Bakugou, “sorry.” She repeats, lips pressing together to form a thin line.

Y/N can’t help but be grateful that she touched Bakugou, his emotions— his confidence especially— being a refreshing feeling in comparison to those around them that reeked of anxiety. Although it was their first day at one of the most prestigious schools in the world. That didn’t mean she wanted to feel the anxiety of every damn student around. It provides her with solace, something to ground her, even if only for a moment.

He simply shrugs, looking away from her. But he doesn’t move.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N turned back to Izuku, tilting her head in confusion, “but I didn’t use my quirk? What do you mean by—”

“Nothing. He means nothing.” Bakugou interjects almost instantly, eyes locking with Izuku’s. As though this entire interaction couldn’t have shocked him more, Izuku suddenly seems to understand what’s going on. It hits him like a pound of bricks as he looks between Y/N and Bakugou.

Izuku cannot believe his eyes. Bakugou Katsuki has a crush.

note: and so the past begins to unravel ;)

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x you #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #this is not the end series

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rwby-necro-au-archive · 3 years

Text

Ozpin Week

Day Six: Day Off/In Battle

@ozpinweek

Description: It’s no surprise that running a Necromancer academy can come with issues. Necromancy is outlawed in many parts of the world after all.

One such issue is the equally unsurprising amount of Pursuers that try to sneak into beacon. Good thing that beacon is made for this, by having what is essentially a maze surrounding it’s buildings. The pursuers most times end up getting lost due to this.

Perhaps it’s also good that a certain headmaster watches his academy and students like a hawk in case of such incidents.

“How upsetting, and on such a lovely day like today.” Ozpin sighed. It would seem that he had been swamped with sorrowful reports and countless uninteresting meetings all day. What he had truly wanted was to be outside or at least to be interacting with his students. But it would all have to wait until these reports and paperwork were finished.

Even though today had started off as it normally would, Him getting up, getting ready for the day, and then heading off to the academy, it still felt like it was particularly monotonous and dull. Nothing interesting had happened, hell even the students hadn’t done any of their usual antics today.

He shook his head, it’s not like any of them could anyways, they had term ending exams to study for. Although he couldn’t help but wish someone would’ve done something.

Knock Knock Knock

A gentle but firm knock was heard at the door. He could tell it was Glynda, it was the small, seemingly insignificant details that he focused on when it came to people. Even the way someone knocked on a door could tell you who they were.

“Come in, Glynda.” Ozpin called out cheerily.

The door opened, “I will never understand how it is that you know whose outside your door even before they walk in.” She quipped.

“I always did pay attention to detail did I not?”

“That is true. Anyways, you look like you’ve had the life sucked out of you. How much paperwork?”

Ozpin leaned back in his office chair “What on remnant makes you think that I know? Absolutely nothing interesting has happened today. Such a shame, it’s such a lovely day too, and here I am stuck doing paperwork.”

Glynda gave a sympathetic sigh, “You aren’t the only one. Despite that, that’s not what I’m here for.”

“Right, To the point. Is it something I should be concerned about?”

“Yes actually.”

His face became stern in response, “What is it?”

“A pursuer has decided to go looking for students to harass on premises.” She explained

“Why haven’t you or the other staff gone to handle the situation.”

She gave an eyebrow raise “Why?”

“My apologies but if they haven’t done anything yet then what would be the point in coming to me?”

“Fair. This one has been…..persistent. He refuses to “take the hint” and stay away from the school. He essentially mocks any staff that tries to get rid of him. Figured you’d be in more luck getting him to leave the students alone.”

Ozpin pinched the bridge of his nose. How annoying. Not just a pursuer but a pursuer with the gall to mock his staff and harass innocent students, his students. It’s no wonder she came to him with the issue, she’s most likely more frustrated than he is.

“Also, I figured since you’ve been stuck in here all day that it would be good to give you something interesting to do. Not to mention get some fresh air” Glynda smiled

He smiled back “I appreciate it. Now then, where is he right now?”

“Seemingly lost in the northern wing’s maze.” She said, she handed him a photo taken from security footage.

He thanked her before leaving his office. Sure, pursuers weren’t an uncommon problem at Beacon but that didn’t make their presence any less annoying.

What was more surprising was that none of them whom he himself had dealt with, have had the audacity to actually go to their boss to tell him about his so called “friend” being a necromancer. Although, what pursuer would ever want to admit to their boss that they ran away from a necromancer?

In fact they, to Ozpin’s amusement, started heavily embellishing their stories to the other pursuers about what he was like. Some tales painted him as a terrifying monster, some painted him as a roughed up intimidating man with unspeakable power, and some painted him as a different being entirely.

It had turned into a game for the headmaster, to see what stories the pursuer he was dealing with had heard. At least it made the job of getting rid of those pests more enjoyable.

Without fail though, every pursuer who had heard about him was surprised to see him in person. The man they had heard was a terrifying monster, a roughed up untouchable man, or a different being entirely, was in reality a dapper, polite, and well kept 6’8 man with a northern Atlesian accent and a love and protectiveness for children.

He quickly walked out the main buildings doors and searched around for the northern entrance into the maze. Once found, he set off towards it. As he walked through the crowd he was greeted by students, all of whom were most likely on their way out of the school, he gave a quick hello and wished them well on their way home.

“Of course a pursuer would choose a time like this. Easy targets.” He mentally noted.

Once he entered the maze, the rest was muscle memory. He knew every corner, every corridor, every alley, every brick, stone, and piece of concrete of beacon like the back of his hand. Knowing where everything was at Beacon was as easy as walking itself for the headmaster.

As he walked he also listened. Listening was important in a situation such as this one. Eventually, what he had been listening for was heard. A yell. He picked up his pace and followed what he presumed was a female students yell.

As he listened further, it wasn’t just the one student, it was a group of them, most likely friends, who this pursuer had decided to go after.

This pursuer seemed to be a real colorful one too, throwing slurs and disgusting innuendos at the girls. There were 3 things Ozpin specifically hated, Pursuers, Those who aim to hurt children, and Creeps. Unfortunately for this pursuer, he was checking all the boxes.

He reached a corner and peered behind it. There stood 5 female students, backed into a wall by this disgusting excuse for a man.

“I bet the guards will have some real fun with you bunch once you get to atlas.” The pursuer sneered.

Ozpin appeared out from behind the corner, standing behind and over the pursuer, “Well that’s not very nice, now is it?” He spoke cooly.

The pursuer jumped and turned around. Eyes widening in realization as he looked up at who was standing in front of him.

“Y-you’re the monster all of the pursuers were talkin’ about.”

“Why yes! That is me!” He said cheerily

“I-I ain’t scared of you! You aren’t anything like they make you out to be. You’re just some guy, I can take you!” The man yelled.

“Tch tch tch, none of you ever learn from one another, do you?”

“The fuck you talkin’ about?!”

Ozpin smiled and looked towards the students, “Now students, here are 2 lessons for you all. Looks can be quite deceiving, take this man here for example. He may look threatening, but in reality, he is weak. He is weak because he is letting his anger get the best of him, which is not a wise decision if you are going to engage in combat.

When you are angry during combat, you stop thinking about how to hit your enemy, and instead just think about hitting your enemy anywhere in general. This leaves you vulnerable.”

“Fuck you!”

“Oh dear, and it seems we have quite a vulgar man as well.”

“Why are you bein’ so polite? I thought you were supposed to scary.” The pursuer snickered

Ozpin laughed, a cold, merciless, and wheezy sound, no doubt from his smoking habit. “Well, my friend, What kind of an example would I be setting if I wasn’t polite? I’m the head councilman of a country, a headmaster, and a professor! It’s my job to make sure I’m setting a good example on how to deal with pests such as yourself.”

He looked over at the pursuer, “show time.” He thought. In a simple blink his eye colored changed from a warm, caring hazelnut brown to a cold and soul destroying green.

“Besides, I am a merciful man. I wouldn’t want to make more of a fool of you when you’ve already done most of the work yourself.”

The pursuer visibly froze, he mentally laughed “Everytime, without fail. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it.”

Ozpin turned back to the students and told them to go home. He had business with this pursuer that he needed to attend to. Who was backed against the wall and helpless now?

The pursuer continued to yell slurs and insults at the headmaster. Eventually, he took out a blade an managed to slice Ozpin across the cheek, causing the headmaster to stumbled back some.

Okay, maybe not helpless. But he surely was backed against a wall in a maze with him.

Once he regained his footing, Ozpin ungloved one of his hands as he gently touched two fingers to the wound, “Well, I’m impressed, consider yourself lucky. You’re the first pursuer to ever actually land a hit on me. Even if it was a cheap shot.”

The pursuer laughed victoriously, while distracted by his small victory, Ozpin grabbed long memory. Quickly shifting it into its shotgun form.

“Although,” He spoke.

He harshly shoved the pursuer against the brick wall, leaving the man slightly dazed and confused. Ozpin aimed long memory at the wall besides the pursuers head and stared down at the man.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?”

#no Ozpin doesn’t kill him. he essentially just scares the fuck out of him and tells him to run along afterwards #necromancer ozpin #headmaster ozpin #ozpin #professor ozpin #injury mention tw #blood mention tw #gun mention tw #violence mention tw

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kindofinprogress · 3 years

Text

What. A. Git.

Harry Potter fell in love at 18.

At least, that’s how old he was when he realized he was in love. He’d felt quite at home in this state so surely it must have happened when he wasn’t looking. Perhaps it happened when he was 16 and playing quidditch with her in the back garden of her home or later that year when an untamed amount of anger filled him at the sight of another boy near her in all the ways he’d wish he could be. Maybe it happened after their historic first kiss in front of 50 of their peers or the subsequent, equally as historic (although much more private), “walk” after said kiss. Maybe it was later, when he was 17, sometime in the nine grueling months he had to spend away from her- where all he could do was try and not think about how much he missed her. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that, right? Or, it could have happened the second, the very mind-clouding moment, that he got to hold her in his arms again after those nine months and the battle that ended the war in which he lost so much. But not her. She managed to come out on the other side and he couldn’t thank enough deities about it if he tried.

Whenever it was- he was sure he was fully, irrevocably, assuredly, enduringly, and all of the other painfully cliche words one could come up with, in love exactly one month after she left on a train for her last year of schooling.

Harry Potter was pitiful. That’s the word that Ron used, anyway. Well, if not being able to stand missing Ginny, his Ginny after the longest, grueling month of his life then that was fine. Alright, perhaps it was possible he’d had worse months so maybe he could tone down the dramatics. But, Harry rationalized, last year he had countless “worst” months- one right after the other in what at the time seemed like an endless string. And even back then he would have given up the world to be able to drop everything and get one good look at her. And he could do that now- quite easily and with a lot less at stake.

Read on AO3

It was after dinner at the Burrow where Harry sat in a room eating a delicious plate made by a stern and loving woman who’s laugh and annoyed tuts reminded him of his Ginny, sat next to a man with his Ginny’s wonderful curiosity, and surrounded by her brothers who had a mischievous edge to their jokes which only his Ginny could rival that he decided he would do just that. Drop everything and go see her- no matter how pathetic that made him in the eyes of his best mate.

Dinner was a more quiet affair these days. Spirits had livened up just enough at the end of September to where everyone could joke and ask each other about their days with genuine interest because they didn’t always end up back at sorrow-filled points but not enough that not at least one persons’ eyes welled up with tears by the end of the night. Or that someone had to excuse themselves when they almost mentioned Fred. But tonight, it wasn’t the collective longing for Fred to fill his seat at the dinner table or the mention of Teddy and the painful reminder that a 60-year-old woman and an 18-year-old man were now his main caretakers rather than his young and kind parents that created a knot in Harry’s throat. It was the mention of Ginny and the oh-how-busy-she-must-be fussing over her too-short letters home and her oh-so-important exams at the end of the year. After she came up Harry was in no mood to answer questions about his training, or if he and Ron would want the leftovers from tonights’ dinner, or to stay ‘round for after dinner drinks with the boys. Harry did stay, not from a lack of trying to leave though. Ron practically plucked him out of the floo and forced an ale into his palm. “Lighten up, we’ll see them at the end of October in Hogsmeade. No need to let a few miles soil our night.”

So, fine. Harry stayed and sulked over exactly one drink. He bid the clan of red-headed brothers goodnight while Ron went to the loo. Harry got home, put on his pajamas, washed his face and wrote a quick note to Ginny to meet him in the Shrieking Shack on the following night- October first. It was a Thursday and Harry figured it was too early in the year for any professors to be dishing out detentions to a castle full of grieving students and it wasn’t a special feast that night so the only thing that might get in his way would be Hermione’s time table.

The next morning, after about 5 more “you’re absolutely pitiful”’s from Ron, and a detailed description of exactly what he was to tell their training Auror his excuse for skiving off in the middle of a work week Harry set off for Hogwarts.

He arrived in town with enough time to stop by the Hog’s Head and grab dinner at the dusty bar and a quick conversation with the aloof Aberforth. The night’s air was well chilly as he made his way to the old, creaking shack and it wasn’t much better from inside. Harry made quick work to try and warm the place up with some charms but only managed to make it bearably stuffy before the door from the secret passage swung wide open and a red blur launched into his chest. Harry took in her flowery scent and dug his fingers into her hips bringing her as close as possible to him. Ginny looked up and met his eyes and Harry couldn’t help but bring his mouth to hers. The kiss was simple and all-consuming. It made his mind swirl. When he finally broke it and got a good look at her face he couldn’t help the soppy grin that overtook his features. It was so easy to let the world melt away and feel so happy with his Ginny around.

“Hey, you. You didn't just come all the way here to stare at me all night did you? We have pictures for that sort of thing you know.”

“Sorry.” He blurted. “No, that’s not what I came for. But it is quite fun. Be quiet and give me about another minute, would you?”

“Harry!” She giggled and swat at his arm. She leaned in and gave him a quick peck before untangling herself from him. “Why did you come? Is everything alright?” Her expression softened with concern in a way that made her look so absolutely endearing Harry swept her up and rightfully snogged her. When they broke apart, panting and out of breath minutes later he apologized again. “Sorry- couldn’t help it.”

He gave her a sheepish smile suddenly feeling just as pathetic as Ron had painted him to be. “I just. Er- I missed you. Is all. And I- I just wanted to see you. Is that okay? I’m sorry, you didn’t have anything important going on did you? Practice? I don’t even bloody know when you practice and I just made you drop everything because I’m a pathetic sop. I’m sor-”

Ginny shut him up with one of those small pecks that took his breath and all coherent thoughts away. “You silly man. Of course it’s alright, Harry. It’s more than alright. I’ve missed you too. I do have to admit you made me nervous with that note. It didn’t say anything!”

“Oh, bugger. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it freaked Hermione out enough to let me off the hook from studying with her tonight. We’ve been going over the same bloody chapter all week, Harry! I know you warned me but Godric, Hermione is boring me to tears and I think she’s enjoying it!”

Harry laughed and they exchanged another small moment of pure bliss. She had a way of doing that, Harry noticed. Filling a moment with everything. Filling him to the brim with happiness in the most minute ways. In that moment Harry wondered if that’s what his father felt for his mother. Later, Harry would reason with himself that James must have- for if anything was worth falling in love and marrying a girl straight out of school in the middle of a war that that feeling -this feeling- must have been in.

“Please, do carry on about your wild school year full of studying and classes.”

“Oh, only if you promise to drone on about your stuffy old coworkers and shoes that pinch your toes.”

“Hey, I’m serious! I want to know everything. I know you don’t put it all in your letters. I can tell your hand gets cramped when your writing gets all crooked and starts leaning on its side- which happens in every letter so I know you haven’t included everything you’ve wanted to.”

So Ginny spent the next half hour telling Harry about everything she felt was too little to write in her letters. Truthfully, she thought they were too little to be mentioning now when they had such a short time together but he truly seemed to be enjoying the conversation so she kept on only so he would keep looking at her like that. Like she was enchanting and everything. Ginny got the sudden courage to do something she’d been terrified of for weeks. “I had my career meeting with McGonagall my first week.” Harry searched deep in his brain for something to say to that- try as he might he couldn’t think of any specifics to ask- surely she’d mentioned this to him before. It was one of the most important meetings 5th, 6th, and 7th years had yearly and Ginny must’ve- “I didn’t mention it before because what we talked about just kind of happened. I just blurted it out without meaning to and she encouraged me, Harry. Me! She really thinks I’m capable of it.” Ginny let anticipation hang in the air for a second- reveling in the way she had Harry’s undivided attention. “She’s getting scouts from all over to come watch me play! I’m going to play quidditch professionally, Harry! Well, maybe. I have to be impressive enough for them to actually offer anything but-”

“You’re going to be amazing, Gin. Those scouts won’t know what hit them.”

“Oh, Harry. I knew I was right to wait to tell you before anyone else.”

Harry’s heart swelled with pride. He felt like he’d won a prize at that. It was in that moment that Harry realized he needed this for the rest of his life. To be the first one she shared good news with, to never miss out on being her biggest supporter, to get to watch her smile like this. To be around for all things Ginny Weasley.

It was ridiculous, then, the thought that before this visit he hadn’t known he was in love with her. She was Ginny Weasley. Beautiful Ginny who had boys falling at her feet, kind Ginny who took care of everyone she came in contact with, brilliant Ginny who was quick as a whip, brave Ginny who fought in a war at age 16 and faced much darker still at age 11- his Ginny. His talented, talented Ginny who was going to be a professional athlete. How cool was that? She was so cool and brave- his Ginny. Just looking at her now, talking a mile a minute, blushing at the confession that she’d been worried about her family’s reaction to her decision- about his reaction, eliciting confidence- he knew he was head over heels in love. She deserved the world and Harry would do anything to be the one to personally hand it to her.

Harry spent a while celebrating with Ginny and reluctantly left her to go to bed -way past her curfew- after about her tenth yawn. With promises to write and see each other soon Harry left on his way home feeling much lighter than he had in weeks.

Harry had always thought when he felt love for the first time it would be a bit more climactic than this. But strangely, this felt much better than any notion of falling in love he’d built up in his head. This was easy… natural. Nothing dramatic or flashy just… just the sheer act of being with Ginny was enough. And he was so fine with that.

It wasn’t until much later- in the early hours of the morning when Harry was finally crawling into bed that he realized he hadn’t even told her he loved her. What. A. Git.

#hinny fluff #hinny #harry x ginny

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alluringjae · 3 years

Text

[ 23:45 ] ⮕ END

part of my collection of cookie cuts from all i do is wait

in order to understand, read the main story first here.

pairing: ghost!doyoung x female!reader

genre: angst, sum fluff if you really squint

warnings: death, grief

author’s note: someone asked me how i would interpret this scene, so here it is. this hurt A LOT. have fun though!

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Mid-1953

At long last, the Korean War has ended after 3 years.

Over 5 million people dead, and to be one of the lucky survivors was a miracle.

The remaining soldiers who’ve fought through it all could return home, whilst civilians can properly rebuild all that was devastatingly destroyed in their cities. Their own normal lives included.

The fiercest 3 years of your life must you say, too engaged with self-studying your history books saved pre-war while dealing with the bargaining stage of your grief towards Doyoung. Every day, you couldn’t go on without overthinking the what-ifs. On top of that, your toddler Areum was at the stage where she loved creating a mess on the walls with her crayons. No matter how many times you’ve corrected her because it wasn’t your house, she continued anyway.

Now, she’s full-blown crying after you confiscated them and you’re on the verge of it. Thankfully, your mother stepped in to take her out for a walk in the neighborhood so you could unwind for a bit.

Since news broke out that the war ended, everyone from every street cheered and danced on the streets. You hailed with praise along with them, positive that things were going to get better. Yet deep down, you’ve selfishly wished that he was one of the lucky few to come home.

If only you didn’t chicken out so easily after he told you he was enlisting so you had a few more seconds with him.

If only you compromised him to join another field.

If only you told him about Areum earlier so he could go home.

These thoughts revolved your mind the most, instantly getting you to break down wherever you were. Even photos of him and you together were enough to tear down your walls. So, they remained hidden until the day you’re in a much better state of mind.

Dear god, you longed for him. Everything that consists of him.

In hopes to forget this tremendous loss in your life, you poured hot tea in a cup and started on this new book from this ongoing series, The Chronicles of Narnia. Getting it during this harsh period was tough, bartering it with old books you’ve owned in the market.

Fully preoccupied in the fantastical universe, flipping the pages quickly, you almost missed the continuous knocking on your door. You let out a tiny gasp and made your way to the entrance. As delusional to think it was Doyoung, you knew it wasn’t your mother and Areum either because they would’ve simply walked in. Opening it anyways, you were met by two young tall men. One had a bandage on his cheek while the other had a cast on his right arm. Noting their growing hair, they must’ve fought in the war.

Oh, if Doyoung was one of them.

“Hello, may I know who you two are?”

The one with the bandage spoke up, bowing first. “Hello, I am Lee Taeyong and this is my friend, Kim Jungwoo. We were good friends of your late lover, Kim Doyoung.”

Late lover.

Haven’t heard that since people in the neighborhood gossiped about your taboo pregnancy, but it’s not like they knew anyways. But from the letters exchanged with Doyoung before, he talked about these two highly. Whenever there were times of ease while serving, Doyoung was always up to mischievous things with these two. In a situation where they had to man up, they brought out his inner child.

“Oh, yes! Doyoung used to talk about you two in his letters, but I had no clue how you guys looked.”

By instinct, you invited them inside for tea by the patio. You’ve always wanted to meet them despite the circumstances. Bringing in a tray with a teapot and treats, mostly you were inquiring about their lives. Aside from knowing their positions in the team, you learned of their new plans moving forward.

“I want to return to university to finish my studies in mechanical engineering, maybe travel the world too.” Jungwoo stated, blowing on his cup before sipping it. He’s said to be an organized man according to Doyoung, always cautious of his surroundings. It balanced out his liveliness.

“Me too! I want to complete my major in finance, then marry my childhood sweetheart after a few years.” Taeyong expounded, his round eyes glowed in wonder. He must’ve been looking forward to this day, and you were content for him. Meanwhile, it processed to Taeyong what he said, realizing that it may have been insensitive.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He burst out instantly. “I got stuck in my feelings there.”

“It’s okay, nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t apologize for how you feel.”

“I do think we should feel worried about you though.” Jungwoo interrupted, sighing heavily. “What happened with Doyoung-hyung all those years ago, we’re really concerned for you especially.”

At the mention of the painful memory, this wasn’t the right time to crumble. You weren’t capable to show your vulnerability to anyone but yourself. Plastering a wrenching pretend smile, “I appreciate the concern, truly. But I’ll be okay again. I’m planning to return to university too, then proceed to law school. A shared dream of mine and his.”

Taeyong and Jungwoo transparently viewed you like glass, coping with the grief of it. They were on the same page as you, and unaware to you, they knew his final words. With their interpretation, it only felt right to reach out to you. Befriend you, aid you in any possible way.

At the end of the day, three of you equally shared the suffering over the death of a loved one.

Sitting in peaceful silence, the front door creaked open followed by a tiny, high-pitched voice squealing.

“We’re home!” Your mother shouted.

“I’m at the patio, we have guests over!” You replied, pouring more tea for the two quiet boys.

From such a low-spirited atmosphere only did it liven up when an energetic Areum came into your setting. She had pigtails this time, satisfying herself with fresh bungeo-ppang from the neighborhood. No matter what you’re feeling, it took a single glance of her with her small moon-like eyes to recharge you.

“Mom, who are your friends here?” She pondered cluelessly.

The two boys exchanged looks at each other first, then to you in one breath. Their expressions of perplexity by how one’s hand was on their mouth and the other boy couldn’t stop staring at Areum, you identified exactly what they were thinking of.

“Areum, these are your dad’s friends in the army.” You animatedly confirmed. “The one with that tiny bandage on his face is uncle Taeyong, and the one with the white cast is uncle Jungwoo.”

Doyoung’s death was already so heavy to take in, but upon discovering this hidden surprise, Jungwoo wiped his tears on his sleeve. But you were fast to hand him some tissue. He was younger than you, so your older sister instincts kicked in.

“This is unjust, (Y/N).” He murmured across you so Areum won’t pick up his words. Your lips pressed against each other, maintaining a straight face at him. He was right.

With Taeyong, his arms spread out wide for the small girl who willingly walked to him. He loved children, having a nephew back home. He caressed her smooth hair down to her jaw. The first thing he distinguished was her pretty eyes followed by her squishy cheeks, resembling so much of his late friend.

“You’re so pretty, Areum. Did your mom tell you that you mirror so much of your dad?”

“Yes, she does! But I’ve never met him and I don’t when I will, uncle Taeyong.”

A tragedy how the splitting image of his best friend doesn’t see what everyone sees. But again, she’s only 3 and she can only process so much. She doesn’t know the real truth behind her father’s location, except that he was working far, far away. There are days she’d ask if he’d come back soon, yet your only response is not now. This isn’t the right time for her purity about life to stain.

“Well Areum,” Jungwoo gathered his senses again, crouching down to her level. “As his friends, we know that you look just like him! Prettier even.”

“Really? Tell me more about him, uncle Jungwoo!”

It’s about time someone else shared stories about your late lover because yours was short-lived. It’s even more intriguing to listen to what other people have to say about Doyoung that weren’t his parents. Some stories told by Taeyong and Jungwoo were new to you too, giggling along to their ridiculousness when they’re not training or fighting. Loving their presence, you invited them to stay for dinner with your family, which they couldn’t reject.

What started as a tense conversation transformed into a heartwarming experience. These two boys earned a spot in your life, aspiring for longtime friendships with them. The tender way they cherished for Areum like they’re own after meeting for the first time, it’ll fill in bits of her void. In exchange, they insisted to chip in for you and her lives so it wouldn’t be just you and your family. Struggling already with the consequences of the war, it only felt proper to do so.

“Doyoung has always been there for us, now let us return the favor and be there for you and Areum.”

Your protests were deemed useless, so you allowed them to do so. Once you finished law school and take the exams, you could pay them back. It’s phenomenal how Doyoung’s good influence towards others multiplied even after his passing. Maybe if you began to view things this way, you’d recover sooner. Although he’ll always be in your thoughts, it wouldn’t be as sensitive as it is now.

For now, you’re just going to enjoy the bliss Taeyong and Jungwoo brought, retelling old tales of a drunk Doyoung on the dining table.

From behind your garden fence in secret, Doyoung secretly observed as his treasured companions interacted at last with positivity. His only daughter mirroring his adored smile, he lived in that moment vicariously through her.

What a good time to visit today, truly.

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

lame

09.

new beginnings are always the hardest part

Despite everything you said – being happy to see your two childhood friends finally acknowledging each other, coming to better terms with their relationship, you didn’t talk to the two for a week though, slightly pissed that they let their damn egos get the best of them.

Really, boys were stupid. So stupid. How stupid? Fucking stupid!

Yet, at the same time, you merely used it as an excuse to really re-evaluate your stance on things.

Honestly, it was nice to have them work through their feelings and finally see each other on equal footing, despite the fact that they had to use their goddamn fists and talk civilly- nope. Childhood friends with serious issues that were slathered by insecurities and bullying could only be mended by fists and screaming. Still, despite having the two finally coming to terms with each other, they still felt so far and out of reach. You had to wonder, where were you in all of that?

Exhaling through your nose, you rested your head against the mop handle, running your forehead through the wood to ground you. “Stupid,” you say to no one in particular. Well, maybe it was more to yourself.

Tiredly making your way through your home, sluggishly pulling the door open, you announced your presence, voice slurring. “I’m home.”

All you wanted to do was bury yourself in bed, take a short nap, or drown in bath-

Something was off.

Immediately, your senses were on high.

First, you caught a familiar scent – two of them, actually. One smelled like sweat and body wash, the other was of burnt sugar. Then, there were the familiar gentle beats. Rushing towards your living room, you all but slammed the door wide open, yellow eyes opening just as wide.

Green and carmine eyes widened at your presence. Staring. You blink. They blinked. You blink again. Izuku raised a tentative hand, smiling weakly. Bakugou just stared with his hands in his pockets.

…

“OLD MAN! What are they doing here!?”

At your outburst, your grandfather comes running towards you whacking you in the head, hard.

The boys winced at that.

Your grandfather eyes you sternly. “Don’t be rude to our guests, foolish girl!”

The two guests just eye you – one worried, with his hands out, the other in awed concern, feeling the pain from the whack.

"You didn't answer my question," you growled, the back of your head still hurting. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING HERE!?"

"Simple: they came to visit."

"AND YOU JUST LET THEM!?"

"They were standing outside the house, it's rude to just leave them there."

"THEN YOU SHOULD'VE! THEY'RE NOT FUCKING STRAYS!"

"They're our guests, foolish girl."

"You should've left them out, then asked for my opinion!"

Beside you, the two boys shifted their eyes going back and forth at your heated exchange with your grandfather.

"Why should I? It's my house."

"Don't I get a say?"

"Do you want me to hit you again?" he raised a hand threateningly, causing you (and the two boys) to wince and take a step back, the back of your head still throbbing. "Ha, thought so." You gave him a sneer, he smirked smugly.

“I’m going to cook now, keep them company!” turning his back, he casually waves off at you three, walking to the kitchen. “Have them greet your parents.”

Sighing, taking a few calming breaths, you glared at the two boys, gesturing then with your head. Without a word, they were on their feet and followed after you.

It’s been a while since Bakugou’s ever been to your house. Izuku comes over a lot, has been over the years. He can't help but feel jealous of how close the two of you are, he felt so left out.

There was an altar by the corner of the living room, where he found you kneeling in front of, lips pressed tightly staring hard at the wooden cabinet long and hard. Eventually, you took hold of the doors and opened, expression softening as you saw the smiling photos of your deceased parents.

“Hi Ma, Pa, looked who came over to visit.”

Quickly getting to his knees behind you, Izuku gestured for Bakugou to do the same, hands pressed together in front of his chest. “Auntie, Uncle, it’s been a while!”

“A-Ah, yeah…” Bakugou says, awkwardly, you had to roll your eyes at that.

“These idiots finally got their act together,” you reported, almost smugly. “still, doesn’t change the fact that they’re the worst knuckleheads in this day and age.”

Some would think that it was a little odd to have your guests come and greet the dead, but this was quite the tradition in your home. Most of your family’s close friends were used to it, Izuku included.

Knowing this, Bakugou felt left out than ever.

For he remembered the day after that day, how his parents spoke in hushed tones when he came home after nearly dying by the hands of a sludge villain and saved by Deku – of all people, the solemn look in their faces after a quick inquiry on the bruise on his jaw, tears alarmingly threatening to spill from his mother’s eyes, his father’s careful expression – “(Name)-chan’s parents, they’re dead.”

It was all too surreal.

You missed out on school for a whole week, grieving. Classmates were murmuring amongst themselves at your absence, having heard of your little altercation and the death of your parents on the same day. Also, students fawned over him for the Sludge Incident, for managing to hold back the villain (when in actuality he was barely breathing had Deku not jumped in) which was honestly the last thing on his mind.

Deku, who was surprisingly left alone, would stare at your chair worriedly, thumbs quick to send a quick text in between classes. He had wanted to ask him about you but held himself back. Pride and guilt held him back. Also, it felt like it wasn’t his place anymore, neither was it his right.

During the funeral, he finally saw you dressed in an all-black kimono his heart clenching at the bags under your eyes, the redness surrounding it, your puffy tear-stained cheeks, the dullness in those once bright (e/c) eyes.

When they arrived, immediately both his parents gave you a big hug, you barely hugged them back, much to their concern. Auntie Inko gave you a hug, as well, when she and Deku arrived. As for him? He kept himself back, hidden, knowing how his presence would only make things worse. And yet, he still came because he was worried about you, so, so, so fucking worried.

You were barely there, receptive or alive. Bakugou hated it, it wasn’t you – you were never much of a crier, always wearing your heart on your sleeve and brimming with life. Now though, it looked as though you were half-alive. He couldn’t blame you really, he can’t imagine losing his parents, of having a part of you die.

While your grandfather attended to guests, receiving condolence money and sympathies, he ensured a distance was kept, knowing you needed time to mourn. Judging from the redness in your eyes, the blankness in your gaze, it would probably take a while.

Looking at you now, seeing the color back in your face, your eyes, the lively (if not, careful hostile) aura emanating off you sets him at ease. Well, almost.

He tried not to linger on the fact that he had a part in utterly destroying a part of you the same way he did Deku, but it bled through as the months went by. All he could do was stare at your parent’s faces, silently offering his heartfelt apologies for all those years he wasted.

"GRANDDAUGHTER! WHILE YOU’RE AT IT, BRING THEM TO THE DOJO!" A yell came from the kitchen, disrupting the peace.

His eyes fell to your form, shoulders slacking. He may not see your face, but he could tell there was a sour expression written all over your face.

Then you sighed, twisting in place to look at the two.

"How about it, boys? Wanna let off some steam?"

The dojo was adjoined to your house - a small traditional dojo that's about ages old, you're not sure but you know but it's been there forever - or so you're told.

A wide space greeted you, polished wooden floors and tatami mats on the ground, calligraphy of 'fortitude', and your family name done by your grandmother hung from the walls along with some ornaments and nondescript paintings that were as old as you (maybe) – everything was in place.

With your grandfather as the head of the family, duly seeing that he lived the family legacy and upheld tradition, he saw fit that the dojo was well-taken care for, that his students weren’t weaklings – family or not, and that the Yoruichi family lived up to its potential and filled with honor (this part, he drilled hard on you when you were younger). In addition, he was the current coach of your school's martial arts club and you were his star pupil, which spelled big favouritism, but nobody complained after sweeping the floor with them on the first day.

Growing up, this place was your safe haven, you could always find peace here, it also held so many good memories that smelled pleasantly of bamboo, faintly of wood, and the faint sounds of a wind chime resounding.

Unable to help yourself, you threw yourself to the ground sideways – an act catching the boys by surprise, Izuku to shrieked, and Bakugou to start - hands planted firmly on the ground, cartwheeling away before doing it again except doing it forward, then sideways, and then your body twisted in mid-air, before landing gracefully on your feet arms raised on both sides.

"(Nickname)!" Izuku called after you, causing you to giggle, especially because your hair was a complete mess now.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself." Patting your hands to the sides, the feel of your skirt made you realize why both boys seemed red in the face. Thankfully, you wore shorts underneath.

With Shinsou busy and final exams in the way, your sparring sessions had been put to a hold. You missed sparring, training – even if it were against Aizawa-san or your grandfather, you loved the thrill of fighting. It was in your blood, after all.

“Really, you shouldn’t be so reckless!” berates your green-haired friend, marching towards you, the blond following close behind.

Looking around, the blond teen took in his surroundings - the aged wooden beams overhead, the cubbies, your grandmother's calligraphy set neatly set in one of the fine cabinets, until his eyes stopped on some pictures. It was the three of you, during your younger days when your grandfather wanted to train all three of you.

Unaware of the way his eyes softened at the picture, he continually looked over and relived the memories – he could almost hear Deku’s crying as he tried to punch hard, him hollering in mad glee, and then you lording over the two because the dojo was ‘your turf’. Carmine eyes traced the smile on your 8-year old face, pulling away to find that you were wearing the same smile. Except, unlike the photo – where the smile was directed at him, Deku was crying in it – your smile was directed towards your green-haired friend who marvelled at the trophies you and some fellow students of the dojo won.

Jealousy was an ugly emotion, but it was always there. He hated it.

As a child, since discovering his quirk, he’d been showered by praise and was the center of everyone’s attention. But for him, the only praise and attention he wanted was from you. However, because he was a shitty kid with an overgrown pride, you barely batted his way and spared him even an ounce of acknowledgment. Honestly, he’s been starved for your attention for so long now.

Only when you had shoved his kindness away in middle school did he realize how badly he’d hurt you, how little of an effort he did to truly reach out to you. He had a handful of ‘friends’, but not really, and you had Izuku – a friendship built on trust and love, he wanted that. But he was too selfish and prideful to do shit about it.

Before he knew it, Bakugou acted on his feelings.

“(Name),” you looked up, (e/c) eyes blinking in question. “let’s spar.”

“Ka-Kacchan-?”

“Sure.” You said with a shrug.

Green eyes blinked at you, then at the blond-haired teen, darting back and forth at the two of you. Were you really doing this now?

“W-Wait a minute! Are we really doing this now?” Izuku tried to reason, seeing at the two of you began to circle each other, him in the middle. “We should just talk, recall the good times! L-Like…Like…um…” the tension between you two, it was unpalpable, raw, and intense. “(N-Nickname)! Remember the first time you showed us a kick split and Kacchan tried to mimic?”

As funny as that memory was, his two friends were too busy circling each other, resembling animals in the wild. Their expressions were blank, but their eyes spoke too much.

(E/c) met carmine. Both unwavering, unyielding, and both hungry.

“(Nickname)? Kacchan? Are you listening to me?”

Readying into a stance, you closed your eyes as you took a deep inhale, opening them when exhaling slowly out your mouth. Bakugou’s fingers were tingling, smoke emitting.

“(Nickname), Kacchan, please there’s no need to-!”

Without a moment of hesitation, Bakugou was lunging forward, the explosion – which was half-powered, Izuku noticed – leaving a cloud of smoke behind that momentarily filled the area.

You didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the smoke, one arm quickly raised to guard against his fist, and the other readily grabbing hold of his knee that followed soon after. With all your might, you pushed him off. (In a fit of panic, Izuku cleared the smoke clouds away with a fling of his fingers at 2% power.)

Bakugou threw his fists, to which you easily deflected or swatted aside, keeping the blows away from you. Tossing his hand away, you planted your hands on the ground and swung your legs to hit him low, Bakugou quickly moved out of the way, rather clumsily. For a moment, he swore he saw you smirk, swinging your legs around with ease to swing at him again.

He had realized then that he had no idea how you fought; he was going into this blind. You both (three, counting Deku) may have trained together under the same dojo when you were younger, but that had been years ago! Plus, being a Yoruichi meant that you were proficient in other forms of martial arts. But again, emotions got the best of him. For some reason, despite being caught at a disadvantage, he found himself gleaming.

You were fast – much faster than he had anticipated, and extremely agile. He took note of the fact that your eyes were its usual (e/c) color, despite the fact that it was dark out. All the punches and hits received were all raw strength, honed from years of training under your grandfather. He always knew you were a capable fighter, despite having not used your quirk just yet. Fuck, were you mocking him?!

Seeing the frustration in his eyes, you smirked, grabbing hold of his incoming fist, catching him off guard, to toss him aside. So answer: yes, you were mocking him.

He had no idea how much you had studied his fighting style over the years, becoming familiar with his straightforward tactic – it was so predictable. And after seeing the Sports Festival and the fight with Izuku from yesterday, you easily caught up on how adaptable he was given the situation and had quick reflexes. It made you sick.

Yet at the same time, despite knowing this, both of you seemed rather in tune fighting each other.

Izuku, who had long given up trying to be the peacekeeper, could only watch in awe at the two. The mood between you two was…something, to say the least. And watching you two fight? It felt as though it were a dialogue if that even made sense – a mad disarray of Kacchan lashing out on you, you easily avoiding all his punches and explosion, you were able to catch Kacchan off-guard a lot whenever you changed fighting styles to which he’d manage to counter in his own reckless way. It was a nail biter to watch, yet it was fascinating at the same time. The two of you were in perfect synchronization with each other.

A cloud of smoke filled the air, your eyes narrowed to see through just as a palm cut through, nearly punching your cheek clean. Ducking a swipe of Bakugou's smoking fists, you took hold of his wrists and twisted them inward, Bakugou barely had time to react and the explosions went off his skin.

Angered, he used your closeness in an attempt to headbutt you, but you easily evaded, losing balance in the process. Seeing this, he grabbed hold of your hand, tugging hard to twirl against him, back to his chest. Instantly, he caught hold of your other hand. The position looked as though you were dancing, it was rather intimate.

"What's the matter? Not gonna use your quirk on me?" he taunted in your ear, making you shiver.

"As a matter of fact," throwing your head forward and back, smacking your hair to his face, he releases you - just barely - but it was enough to free you, sweeping him off his feet to pin him to the ground – an elbow to his back and one arm stretched out painfully behind him. "I don't need my quirk to beat you. I'm plenty strong on my own." Releasing your hold, you tilt your head to the side, unable to help the smug look on your face, faint lines of yellow lining your eyes. "Not bad for one 'seemingly quirkless', huh?"

Quirkless. Something in him roiled, especially with the way you said it.

Pushing himself off, making you lose balance, he grabbed hold of your collar and nearly slammed you to the ground, switching positions. “What the fuck is your problem?”

(E/c) eyes gave him a cold hard stare, the corner of your lip slightly twitching. It made his tenuous temper flare.

Tightening his hold, he asked again. “What is your fucking problem?!”

“My fucking problem is you!”

Okay, that threw him off.

Bakugou pulls back, blinking at your response, completely dumbfounded “I thought you were ‘working on being a better friend’? Was that all for show?” His voice was soft, hoarse. It hurt that after all this time, he was still a stranger to you. Yet at the same time, he's rather confused with how lightly you've been handling this.

Unable to look at him any longer, you look away. Those carmine eyes were full of hurt; you didn't like it.

"Let go of me," you tell him, his hand had slackened, allowing you to push him off. And he lets you, feeling defeated as he watches you pick yourself up.

His eyes turn to Deku for help, assurance, assistance, never would he have thought that he'd come to Deku - of all people - for such. Deku just stared, weakly at you, then at him – at a loss.

Before you could walk away, Bakugou grabbed your arm, his grip hard. "No, you're not walking away that easy, (Name)."

Your name sounds so foreign when he says it, you gulp, refusing to look his way. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

He glowers, tugging you back to face him, staring you down. "What I want is for you to stop being so fucking difficult and talk to me!"

You couldn't help scoffing, harshly tugging your arm free. "You? Talk? Wow."

Bakugou had always known you were a petty person, but to be this difficult at the same time? It was really grating his nerves.

"(Nickname)..." Izuku berates in the background, which was silenced by Bakugou.

"CAN YOU FOR ONCE JUST LISTEN TO ME!?"

"K-Kacchan..."

"WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS THEN?"

“I’M FUCKING TRYING TO BE CIVIL, BUT YOU’RE BEING SO FUCKING DIFFICULT!”

“YOU? CIVIL? IF THAT ISN’T THE JOKE OF THE CENTURY!”

(Somewhere in the kitchen, Shihan casually cooks dinner, knowingly oblivious to the explosion, yelling, screaming, going on in his beloved dojo. Casually checks the spice intake on one of his dishes, adding a bit more.)

Bakugou opens his mouth, about to berate on one of your bullshit of an excuse to give him the time to speak only to stop. He realized how much you’d instigate and rile him up, and how much he’d fall for it. This was never-ending, the ceaseless anger between you two, it had to stop. “Why won’t you give me the chance, (Name)?” his voice was brittle, so brittle and soft, from yelling and of hurt.

Vulnerability was something you never expected of him, but you were too proud to even recognize it from him of all people. “Your life is fucking perfect, why the hell do you want to make a mess outta mine!?”

“Perfec- “he nearly spat out the word, hating it. “you think my life is perfect?”

Rolling your eyes, hard, Bakugou swore it was enough to see the insides of your head. “Come on, do I need to list it down? You and your perfect family, your perfect little cozy home, your perfect academic performance, your perfect quirk,” that part just had to be overly emphasized, dramatized, much to his disgust “life just hands you everything perfectly in a neat little bow-“

“My life is anything but perfect! I'm anything but fucking perfect! My life’s not fucking perfect because I don’t have you in it, (Name)!” he angrily yells.

That made you stop. Izuku, too.

And after a few seconds of saying it, as did Bakugou. "Fuck," he muttered, ducking his head, to hide his reddening face, he was reeling at his confession – pent up after being so long overdue.

“…what…?”

Izuku’s hands slapped over his mouth, a small noise coming threatening to come out as he watched the two of you in keen interest. “…K-Kacchan…(N-Nickname)…”

(Now would probably be the worst time to gush, squeal, or scream over this, as though he were watching a rom-com movie, but he couldn’t help it! Izuku had always been the biggest supporter of you two, wanting you both to end up together since you were children.)

After all this time, he liked you, too?

When he looked up, he was surprised to see how red you were – you were, like him, blushing hard. Like that one time you visited to give your ochugen gifts.

Wait.

“Wait.”

“I’m outta here!”

The door slammed shut behind you.

Dinner was an awkward occasion, an extremely awkward one especially because your grandfather had Bakugou sit right next to you.

Your grandfather, painfully knowing that he is, acted oblivious to the tension and casually chatted up the boys - Izuku mostly doing the talking, whilst Bakugou mumbled here and there, you kept your head low avoiding the gaze of anyone in the table.

Just after dinner, you made a beeline for your room, uncaring for your grandfather's wrath - you could deal with that later, you just wanted a moment to yourself after Bakugou's confession.

“My life is anything but perfect! I'm anything but fucking perfect! My life’s not fucking perfect because I don’t have you in it, (Name)!”

Fuck.

His words rang in your ear, all the blood rushing the instant his voice rang in your head.

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," you wailed into your pillow.

With special permission from Aizawa-san, and Izuku's insistency, you found yourself at the prestigious UA once again in time for its culture festival.

To say the place was huge would be an understatement, and that’s saying because you’ve been here a lot whenever Izuku was injured, more than just three USJs, it felt like its own continent! This time though, it was colorful and vibrant than usual.

The school went all out, I see. You thought to yourself, after all the bad shit that happened to them.

You still held Izuku with careful regard, it was always easy to forgive him, but appreciated the gesture that he extended his invitation to you. He wanted you to be there, to experience the joy of a high school culture festival even if you two weren’t school mates anymore. (Also, it was his way of saying sorry.) All things considered; things immediately went back to normal between you two.

(Save for one)

Meeting up with your best friend at the front gate, you were surprised to find him covered in dirt and grass. But before you could even ask, he hurriedly brought you backstage to meet up with his classmates before the show started.

“Everyone this is my childhood friend, Yoruichi (Name)!”

Giggling at his stutter, you shouldered him playfully before bowing at his classmates. “Hi everyone! It’s nice to meet the lot of you!”

A series of ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ came afterwards, soon after, the two of you were bombarded with questions. Tiredly, you turn to your best friend, sharing a look. Man, I miss the days when we were invincible.

“Ah, it was that girl who yelled at him at the hospital!” a tall plain-looking guy pointed at you, to which Iida yelled that it was rude to point. You could only offer an apologetic smile, nudging at your best friend’s shoulder again.

“Eh? I didn’t know Midoriya had another childhood friend!” some guy with flaming red hair and shark teeth said, kindly and in shock.

“More than that, Midoriya’s been keeping this beauty from us!” a small purple-haired boy screeched, angrily turning to your best friend. On instinct, you stepped in front of your friend protectively.

“Wow, I’m offended you don’t talk much about me, Izuku.” You teased, elbowing the green-haired teen. He laughed, scratching his cheek.

“This is so radical, a female childhood friend. Must be nice~” a boy, with a streak of black over his hair that could only remind you of Pikachu, gushed. “But wait, haven’t I seen you at that one café- “

“Dunce face, shut your mouth.” Bakugou suddenly appeared in your line of sight, you immediately turned away before he met your gaze, fighting the blush creeping its way to your cheeks.

“Ne, ne, ne,” a pink-skinned and pink-haired girl gushed, nearly shoving her face into yours. “So, like, is Midoriya your boyfriend?”

In unison, you two stared at each other before bursting into laughter, used to the question for so many years.

“No way,” Izuku says, trying to calm down. “(Nickname)’s like a sister to me!”

“I second that! Izuku’s such a whiny big brother with a big brain.”

“(Nickname), you didn’t have to put it like that…”

Grinning toothily, you playfully ruffled his curly locks, discreetly eyeing a brunette who seemed to sigh in relief.

“Wait a minute, since Yoruichi’s your childhood friend, does that mean that Bakugou’s your childhood friend, too?” a short-haired punk-looking girl asked, a few heads turning to the blond. Said blond stilled, expression a careful blank.

“Yeah, he is.” The reply came easy, nonchalantly. Playfully. “Is. Was. Somewhere in between.” You wiggled your hand in the air for emphasis.

It was a cold response, almost as cold as Todoroki’s ice.

“But that’s enough about me, I heard you guys were putting on a live performance?” the mood easily shifted, two kinds of excitement stirring from the class. “And Izuku, you’re dancing? Since when!?”

“Sadly, we kicked him out.” The pink-haired girl says, arms crossed.

“Deku-kun worked his best!” Ochako defended, cheeks puffing.

“That’s right! That’s right!”

“Ah, Midoriya-chan looks mad?”

“More than that, he’s blushing too.”

Several eyes turned to the green-haired teen, cheeks puffed and an angry flush dusting his cheeks, glaring your way.

“I-I mean, dancing sounds fun. Plus, I’ll have you know that we’ve danced together before, (Nickname)!”

(e/c) eyes narrowed playfully, finger poking at freckled cheeks. “Dance Revolution, Just Dance, and Dance Master don’t count, dumdum. Plus, you suck at those!”

“She’s so brutal!”

“Almost like a female Bakugou.”

“Uwa, it’s kinda rare to see Midoriya like this. He seems more comfortable and less grounded.”

“I see what you’re saying! And he usually shies away from girls!”

“Yoruichi’s got spunk, doesn’t she?”

“Oi, we got to prepare! Come on, now!”

Realizing this, you stepped away from Izuku, wishing him luck. He had told you that he wanted you to meet someone after the show, you could only nod at that.

Meeting carmine eyes, you faltered, body shifting to move, but stopped. Braving a look his way – much to his shock, you offered a small smile. “Break a leg.”

Their show was amazing, spectacular, a showstopper, and you made sure to relay your praises to the class afterwards.

Shortly after the show (and sharing your thoughts about their presentation), you were introduced to Eri, the sweet little girl Izuku told you about during his work-study. The moment you saw her, she immediately won your heart. Oh, and you were introduced to Mirio, a goofy senior who was super friendly and an amazing presence to behold.

Without even knowing, you somehow wounded up with the rest of 1-A joining whatever sorts of fun the cultural festival has to offer. Most of the time, you stuck close with Eri, who'd grown fond of you after your first meeting, sometimes, sticking with the girls (even though your nose would crinkle at girlish topics), or even hung with Bakugou's ragtag of friends (of which, you were surprised to find that he had a clique of his own!).

It was a rather eventful day, and your legs were all tired out from constantly moving around. Still, it was a fun day. Sitting against a railing, you watched as Izuku ran off towards the gate, a paper bag in hand. Smiling at his retreating frame, you leaned back and watched around, eyeing the festivities - or what's left of it, feeling suddenly lonely about it all. This was where Izuku and Bakugou went to school, this was their cultural festival, and you were just an outsider.

“Here,” you blinked as a churro appeared out of nowhere, offered to you. Retracting your hands from your sides, you carefully took the treat in your hands and looked up, meeting carmine - Bakugou.

“Thanks,” you reply, dumbly.

Sitting next to you, Bakugou was strangely quiet, hands buried in his pocket. “What did you think of our performance?” he asked, rather quietly.

“Pretty kickass,” you say honestly, still staring at your treat. "I forgot how well you could play the drums."

The corners of his mouth twitched, but his expression remained a careful, almost wistful blank. His eyes though, they were another story. “I’m glad you came, (Name).”

Scoffing, a smile found its way to your lips, you bump his shoulder with yours. Surprised, he looks up, eyes finding yours, (e/c) warm. “Yeah, me too.”

Something inside him stirs, strangely, comfortingly. He could feel his throat drying just looking at you, just as you bit on your churro - a big crunch, followed by sugar falling off.

“You should consider transferring.”

“Pass, I’ll just take the supplementary lessons Aizawa-san offers.”

"Like they'll do you good."

"Hm,” you swallow, using the back of your hand to wipe the cinnamon sugar off your mouth. “lest you forget I have my shitty old man, and he teaches me plenty."

He mulls at your words as you chew on your churro, enjoying the youthful vibe of the cultural festival. Truth be told, being here actually made you jealous. You never enjoyed the cultural festival at your middle school because everyone did such a mediocre job and could care less about having fun. But this? This was nice. Relaxing, fun even.

"What happened to you?"

Stopping midchew, you let the words sink in - word by word, before finishing the last piece of your churro. Mulling over his question, you leaned your head back to watch the cotton candy-colored skies. "I gave up." You said simply, decidedly, honestly. "You seem to disregard people who care about you."

He swallowed thickly at your words. There were a million things he wanted to say while you were right there, no animosity between the both of you for once, however, he found himself choked up. All the words, questions, they held up in his throat. It felt pretty fucking lame of him.

However, if anything, there was one thing he's been meaning to say to you for a very long time. "(Name)," he starts, he liked the way your name comes out of his mouth, always liked how it's comparably lighter to say compared to a million words that made up language. "I'm sorry."

Startled, you turned to him, really stare at him. Two words, yet they carried so much weight. So much history addressed. So many years of fighting, crying, yelling, and stubbornness. All it took were just two words.

Surrendering, you leaned against his form - feeling his body flinch at the contact, but doesn't move away, eyes falling shut. "I'm sorry, too."

That made him scoff, offended at your apology. "Shut up," As far as history has shown, you have nothing to apologize for.

"No, really listen." you continue, eyes dropping to your fingers. "I'm much to blame for our history. I've been so incredibly petty, cynical even whenever it came to you. Izuku was always so forgiving and he'd try to pass it on to me, but I just tossed it aside, never realizing that in the process I was hurting both of my dearest friends. By neglecting Izuku's wishes, I was neglecting you in the process. I was so selfish."

"I've been selfish, too."

"I know."

"And prideful."

"Oh, I know."

The makings of a smile creep its way to his lips. "And shitty."

You snort. "Oh, believe me, I know." Unknowingly, you laughed easily.

Bakugou watches as you laugh - eyes crinkling, cheeks brightened (with a few specks of cinnamon sugar sticking), your teeth were exposing, a light-hearted laugh escaping your mouth, you looked so pretty like that. He rather liked hearing your laugh.

Finding his elbow, you wrapped your arm around his, leaning ever so closer. Bakugou might've jumped at that, but you couldn't tell, too contented at that moment. "I missed you, fucker."

At your admission, he felt his chest stilling, calming. Before realizing it, the expression on his face lightened, softened, carmine eyes taking in your form against it – had you seen it, it would have done you over.

It was the softest expression he could ever muster.

"I missed you, too-"

"Oi, Bakugou!"

"There you are! We've been looking all over for-"

Kaminari and Kirishima both stopped at the sight of two teens, relishing in each other's presence - quite comfortably, too - which was ruined by their arrival.

Curious, you peeked a look at the two teens.

And then there was Bakugou, who was absolutely furious.

masterlist • ten

#lame #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou katsuki angst #bakugou katsuki angst fic #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha fic #bnha angst #bnha angst fic #mha #mha x reader #mha fic #mha angst #mha angst fic

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

Nightingale - 46

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Fluff, feels, angst, few NSFW hints, reference to past events. A/N: Oho? Another chapter? Well, I hope you enjoy it. ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 46

Packing their belongings had been quick and it only takes one load to bring it to the house – a load that’s primarily made up with the jōnin's boxes which somehow bothers Kakashi despite knowing why. It’s not his main concern, though.

Coming back from a longer mission, he has been worried that the woman’s decisiveness might have wavered. Most of her lifetime has been spent with nothing but a memory of a home, let alone safety or privacy, so no one would fault her for getting cold feet at the prospect of sharing what essentially is supposed to be a safe haven.

Still, he doesn’t feel any doubt or hesitation from Uguïsu as they empty the borrowed wheelbarrow. Her smile is brighter than the sun shining on the clear blue sky and the birds in the still overgrown garden are adopting the bouncy tune she’s humming.

Dropping down the last cardboard box on the kitchen table (courtesy of a friend from his ANBU days), Kakashi stretches his back. “Gonna head back with the wheelbarrow, alright?”

“Will you be back?” she answers from the living room, already busy unpacking books and sorting them, but she pauses to look over when he doesn’t answer. “’Kashi, sweetie?”

Uguïsu looks like she belongs. Not just in the house but in between the lingering memories that Kakashi still can’t quite talk about because...because there’s just so, so much all tangled up in it. He’s good at ignoring the old pain. Hell, he’s good at ignoring any pain and sometimes it feels like it’s just a dream.

Maybe that’s how it feels for her too? Yes, the past has hurt them both in different ways. Beyond words. Beyond repair. It’s strange to imagine something new and good being built right on top of the old ruins but that’s exactly what Kakashi, at least, is starting to believe can happen. Piece by piece, he’ll have to sift through the rubble to clear the site for what’s to come...and he’s happy he won’t be alone while doing it.

“Kakashi?” She’s standing right in front of him, carefully pulling the fabric away to reveal his face and kiss something wet away from his cheeks.

“Yes -” he has to clear his voice before continuing -”as long as there’s a chance you’ll be here, then I’ll come back...after a few other errands.”

The smile is back, moulding to his lips with a hint of salt. “I need to get something too, but I’m counting on you to come back.” Uguïsu buries her fingers in the unruly, white strands, making him weak-kneed. “Wouldn’t be any need for it, if you didn’t.”

“Mmmm-oho?” It’s amazing how one woman can make his mind almost blank and his body hum with a single nibble on his bottom lip. “What is it?”

“Wouldn’t be any fun telling you, now would it?” She giggles at his pouty face. “Alright, one hint.”

“Please, Uguïsu-chaaan!”

“I got the idea from one of your books,” she whispers into his ear.

And with that she’s gone, leaving Kakashi behind with a raging (albeit confused) boner that delays him before he can see to his own tasks.

...

You think the world of Naruto. Don’t you, Iruka?

Kakashi is smart enough to admit that the team isn’t 100% in sync, but both men know that that isn’t the important part – it’s the progress that counts. All three team members need equally unique motivations, and after writing and reading so many reports on the trio, Kakashi knows that showing them as much as possible is the right choice even if they risk getting hurt sometimes.

Iruka...well, he might not like how far Kakashi is willing to push the kids.

Because the captain of Team 7? He knows the time has come.

All the signs are there (including the messages he “coincidentally” has heard during the last month): visitors, many of whom are kids or young teens, from other countries; the passports being inspected at the gates and stamped after being compared to a specially issued list, signed by the Hokage; the extra work several of Kakashi’s colleagues has been burdened with as the deadline has neared. The exams are coming.

As if on cue, he hears the tell-tale screech of old Third’s eagle calling to assemble.

...

The comforting scent of dogs catches Kakashi's attention the moment he opens the door to his old and new home. Dogs and tea. He can hear the gentle crackling from the firewood stove and sees the kettle standing on the stone counter next to a smaller box with tea tins, whisks, and cups. Grabbing his favourite (one Uguïsu had added to her tiny collection for whenever he came around), he goes in search of the woman. Bare feet don’t make a sound against the wooden floorboards but he knows that she’s aware he’s there.

The jōnin finds the Ninken before spotting Uguïsu half-buried between them, back against the solid mountain that Buru is. Not too far away stands the tea pot and a steaming cup.

“Think there’s room for one more?” None of the piled up individuals say anything but at least a few of the dogs wriggle around to create a spot next to the woman.

This is bad, Kakashi admits now that he can see her. Dark eyes remain fixed on infinity even as she presses herself close against his chest, lips drawn into a thin line, and the lively glow of her skin diminished. Thankfully, a sense of calm seems to return to her with the first kiss on her forehead.

“When does it start?” Seemingly realizing that she’s talking as if Kakashi has been privy to her thoughts, she adds, “the exams?”

“The first is a week from now,” he explains and tugs her closer, “but the trio and the two other rookie teams need to pass a preliminary first.”

Finally, Uguïsu looks up at him. “I’m sure they’ll do fine. They’ve had the best senseis, after all.”

“And here I thought, I was supposed to make you feel better...”

A furry head lifts lazily. “Want us to leave?”

Shiba’s question contradicts the way he remains almost glued against the blue-haired woman, head resting on her thigh, and eyes trained on her – Kakashi realizes he wasn’t the one being asked. Traitor, but really it makes him happy to know that she isn’t completely alone when he’s gone.

Slender fingers scratch through the stiff hair on the Ninken’s head. “That’s probably best...but thank you all for coming.”

The chorus of gentle yaps fades away with puffs of smoke (the last and biggest only after the humans sit up properly), dumping the room into silence as they lie back down on the warm floor. Tugging Uguïsu closer, the jōnin appreciates the fact that it’s possible to do so, even now, without her tensing or pulling away – instead, she seeks out the contact by draping herself partially over him with a deep sigh.

“So...talk about it or distract you from it?”

She ponders the option for a moment. “Maybe...not a long talk but just...explain what happened so it makes sense?” Looking up at him, the dark eyes are filled with a doubt that Kakashi isn’t used to seeing there, so of course he nods for her to begin. “Yes...well...” she collects her thoughts, “first off...it’s not like visitors are completely unheard of here, I know that, but as I was getting further downtown, it started to be a lot of strangers that clearly weren’t merchants or something like that.”

Despite the best of skills of any given team of shinobis, it’s near impossible to hide the way the individual members rely on each other while in new surroundings. All of them would be on high alert and as such subconsciously move in a certain manner, almost as if sticking to a formation. A good team can be discreet at this so civilians won’t notice and the same applies to the hand signals or the whistles, all of it executed in a flash too quick for a commoner to be sure they even saw anything. It’s an entirely different matter if the observer is a ninja too.

Of course, the visitors in question aren’t supposed to be blending in as if on a mission but rather show openly who, or rather what, they are.

“It’s a lot of different headbands and faces,” the blue-haired woman laments, “even more unknown factors and risks.”

Kakashi rubs her arm in an attempt to soothe her. “I admit it’s tense as some of the nations represented aren’t necessarily our allies. Officially, there’s a ceasefire...but the towns guard has been strengthened and every foreign participant, be it students or senseis, are issued a passport after verification of their identity. Much like we always do except this time we have their information in advance.”

“Passport. Identification.” Sitting up, Uguïsu pulls out something from one of her pockets. “These things are easy to get.”

Taking what he’s handed, the man looks with slight surprise at the documentation in his hands. Already, the edges are worn and there are smudges here and there. He recognizes the woman on the picture, the name “Mei” as well.

“That explains how you could circumvent the wards...how did you...?”

She has the decency to look a tad remorseful, fingers interlocked and gaze averted. “You know how...”

Kakashi has had his suspicions after learning about the kekkei genkai she possesses and he can see on the sheepish expression on his girlfriend’s face that she isn’t proud of having used the power on the duo at the gate. Poor Hagane and Kamizuki.

“Yeeeeah....I had some apologizing to do after the hokage had okay’ed me,” Uguïsu mumbles. Her fingers are busying themselves with a strand of hair and the jōnin can hear the rapid heartbeat in the silence that follows. “They took it...kinda good?”

Thinking back on the worry on Hagane Kotetzu’s face in the winter when Uguïsu and her teammates had been brought to the hospital, the white-haired ninja feels confident enough to squash any concerns she still harbours. In fact...it’s almost surprising that more people haven’t maintained any animosity towards her. He looks at the woman.

Sunshine is slanting through the window behind her, creating a golden aura with flickering specks. The warm colour from the wood is reflected onto Uguïsu’s face, preventing it from being concealed by shadows and softening the contours – it cannot lessen the unease that sharpens her frown and has buried into the distant gaze like steel.

“Sweetheart...” Kakashi begins but doesn’t know how to continue in a manner that truly conveys what he is thinking, so instead he backpedals a bit, “we knew this day would come and I’ve already taken some steps to keep your presence hidden.”

Quietly, he explains about the meeting and the request (order, really) he has gotten issued for everyone to only refer to her as Mei and deny any knowledge of her real identity. Then he finds one of his boxes and reveals the contents: wigs, beards, tins of colours for makeup and hair, and even some masks and costume pieces. None of those items are likely to be necessary, knowing a bit of Uguïsu’s skills when it comes to remaining undetected, still the existence might add to the sense of security.

“We can piece together a persona that no one would be able to see through.”

A twinkle in her eye makes Kakashi frown. “Not too good, though.”

“Why...why not?”

“I don’t want you to forget I’m your girlfriend,” she teases.

What else can he do than scoff at that? “Silly-head. Like that could ever happen.” Giggling softly, the woman allows herself to be dragged onto his lap and lose herself in the kiss. “I promised I’d be there for you no matter what,” Kakashi mumbles against her lips, “so don’t you dare think a new face will change that.”

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alwaysmychoices · 3 years

Text

The Memorial

Synopsis: On the day of Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Charlie slowly (and unwillingly) begins to feel the impact of her trauma, and Ethan tries to protect her from her own pain.

Chapter 20 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.8k

Rating: T (language)

tw: disassociation, trauma, emotional distress negative self-talk

disclaimer: I used my experiences as inspiration for Charlie’s emotional state. I am not a trained mental health professional and apologize if I misrepresent anything in this chapter.

That morning, Ethan had no choice but to discharge Charlie from the hospital.

There was no reason to keep her, even after an unusually thorough final exam. Her vitals were normal, and she hadn’t exhibited any concerning side effects from her treatment in days.

Charlotte Greene had survived. She was in the clear now.

For the first few days, Ethan didn’t let himself dream of such a thing. He didn’t want to be disappointed if she took a turn, and he didn’t want to blind himself in his diagnosis and treatment of her. It was only in the last 48 hours that her discharge had become a real and impending event. Truthfully, he could have released her yesterday. The only reason he didn’t was that she experienced a few headaches he wanted to keep an eye on.

But it wasn’t the headaches, not really.

Ethan kept her in the hospital because, deep down, he doubted she was ready to leave.

Charlie seemed fine – sometimes, on a good day, even normal. But there was a haunting in her gaze, a lingering ghost in every movement. Something unresolved and untouched hid in every interaction.

The truth was that they neglected her psychological healing, placing all of their emphasis on her physical improvement. Each of her loved ones denied this to themselves, of course. They showered her with support and affection, and when she had those moments where she seemed lost in something, they stayed with her until she found her way back.

But they hadn’t touched the root of it.

They hadn’t had the courage, nor the stamina.

They didn’t know if they avoided it for themselves or for her. The free days – the one where she wasn’t thinking about her tragedy – were the best. She was a model victim, full of energy and strength. She made jokes from the confines of her hospital bed and offered warm smiles to comfort her loved ones.

Her parents left Boston confident that their daughter would make it through. Even when her father harbored doubts, he looked to Ethan to protect her.

But Ethan knew.

Somewhere, deep down, he knew.

He observed as if surveying her for cracks in the façade.

Even now, as Charlie collected her things from the hospital room in preparation to leave, he studied her. She seemed happy. She felt happy, but Ethan wasn’t sure if she was.

“You’re pouting,” Charlie commented playfully as she picked up her jeans and started to shimmy into them. Sienna had been kind enough to bring her a fresh set of clothes from the apartment so that Charlie didn’t have to leave in the scrubs she wore when disaster struck. Sienna had been more than happy to do it. It gave her a sense of power, that she could do something for Charlie after feeling powerless during her suffering.

“I don’t pout,” Ethan murmured, taking a seat in the free chair. He was, of course, still pouting.

“Well, I’m happy,” Charlie commented as she continued dressing, “I’m finally free, and I’m counting down the hours until I can finally take a shower in my own shower. I never thought I would miss water pressure this much.”

Charlie had a whole list like this – full of tiny luxuries and familiar habits that she missed. Some of them she already had plans to satisfy, like the shower and her coffee maker. Some were more abstract, like dinners with her friends and hearing Sienna hum during their morning routine. There was one she wouldn’t take a “no” on, which was that she intended to spend the night in Ethan’s bed no matter what happened today.

Right now, the world was full of possibilities, and after so long, she could finally reach for them again.

Ethan felt guilty for what he would say next, but he was also confident it had to be said.

“Will you be attending the memorial today?”

He watched the crack in her sunny day take shape and splinter her soft smile.

Charlie froze, and a cold, cold realization washed over her. It froze everything it touched until it reached her bones. Nothing was safe from its icy grasp.

It was a warm room, Charlie knew it was. And so, she pretended she wasn’t cold, even if her teeth felt like chattering.

“Is that today?”

Charlie knew it was today, but she asked just to be sure.

“Yes, at 3:30 pm.”

Charlie nodded, instinctively rubbing her arm as she tried to channel the warmth and happiness she felt only moments ago. It was coming back – so very, very slowly.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” Ethan ventured carefully.

As he expected, Charlie’s eyes shot to him with an expression that could only be described as surprise and disgust. She had to go. Those men died for her!

They…

They died for her.

Charlie felt knocked back, and afraid Ethan would see it, she shook her head and turned her gaze to her jeans as she buttoned the top.

“I have to go, Ethan.”

“No, you don’t.”

They’d had this conversation last night, and even if Ethan knew he would lose, it felt imperative to try.

“Ethan.”

“Rafael Aveiro isn’t going.”

“Because he wasn’t medically cleared to go. That’s not the same.”

“Everyone would understand, Charlie.”

“I wouldn’t understand, Ethan,” Charlie insisted, “I have to go, for me.”

Ethan knew this was a terrible idea. He wasn’t sure why or specifically what would happen, but he knew Charlotte Greene should never step foot inside that memorial.

But there wasn’t much he could do. He knew Charlie very well, and if she intended to go, there was nothing he could do to stop her. Even if he demanded she avoid it and threw up barriers, she would overcome each obstacle with a vengeance. She was a stubborn woman with conviction, a damning combination.

All he could really do was make sure she didn’t do it alone.

“Alright,” Ethan conceded, earning a look of shock from his girlfriend, “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll come by to pick you up.”

Charlie squirmed, surprised by how easily he’d given up the fight. It gave her a moment of pause, and at that moment, she wondered if she was making the right decision. But then the thought faded, and her certainty returned.

She owed it to Bobby and Danny…

“Do you want a ride home?” Ethan offered, still a bit nervous about letting her out of his sight today, “I have time to take you, if you want.”

He’s scared, she realized quietly.

It was startling to see, though the sight was not unfamiliar.

Seeing fear now felt wrong. This was their happy ending, wasn’t it?

Charlie crossed the room to reach her boyfriend, who watched her in silence. When she studied him, she noted the exhaustion and the concern etched into his handsome face. Between his eyebrows, a firm wrinkle of unease sat. She gently smoothed it with her thumb and hoped that was enough to settle it. Ethan recognized her attempt at assurance and comfort, but he didn’t feel like he deserved them.

He was supposed to take care of her, not the other way around.

But really, they needed it equally.

They were two shattered people fumbling to put themselves back together.

“I’ve missed walking,” Charlie politely refused his offer. Ethan wasn’t terribly surprised she did.

“You have my number if you need me,” Ethan reminded her, and something warm settled in her heart, a break from the bone-chilling sadness.

She loved him so, so much.

“I’ll be fine, Ethan,” Charlie said with the upmost confidence.

Ethan raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I will be!” Charlie insisted.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Ethan declined to confirm her assertion. He couldn’t in good conscience assure her when he didn’t believe her.

Charlie wished he would anyway.

She made a show of rolling her eyes like she was amused with his overconcern. Ethan wasn’t impressed with the display.

It didn’t take long for Charlie to finish dressing and collect her things. When she was done, there was nothing left to keep her in this hospital.

They hesitated at the door and watched one another to see who would make the first move to leave.

Instead, Ethan kissed Charlie softly, whispering, “Goodbye, Charlie.”

She smiled into his lips, “I can’t wait to kiss you somewhere outside of this hospital.”

Ethan grinned. He felt a profound sense of relief that she would make it out of this building. His wonderful Charlie could do anything with this independence. She would continue to exist, even out of his line of sight. She was no longer a fixture in this hospital, nor a victim to gawk at during rounds.

She was free.

They were both free.

Ethan wasn’t sure what came over him. It could only be explained as an instinct to run. He was sure they had to. He was convinced that they were up against a tragic, impending disaster and that they needed to leave while they still had time.

“Why don’t we run away?” Ethan asked.

“What?” Charlie laughed, but the severity of his expression made her smile falter.

“I’m serious. Let’s run away, right now.”

“You’re at work,” Charlie cautioned with confusion.

“So? I doubt anyone would begrudge our departure after everything we’ve been through,” Ethan decided, “We’ll just go somewhere – anywhere you want – and come back whenever the hell we want to.”

Ethan wanted Charlie to say yes more than he’d wanted anything. He wanted this more than he wanted her to say yes to his offer at a relationship all those months ago. Really, he didn’t just want it. He needed it. It felt like the only way to quell his growing anxiety and avoid pain and tragedy. It was the only way to protect her.

But Charlie wasn’t the kind to run away.

She was the kind to try, even if it broke her.

It was one of the reasons Ethan loved her, but it was also one of the reasons she scared the hell out of him.

Placing a comforting hand on his cheek, Charlie kissed her nervous boyfriend softly and told him, “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”

She never gave an explicit answer to his offer, but her aversion was answer enough to disappoint Ethan.

“Okay,” Ethan conceded weakly, kissing her forehead one last time.

When she walked away, Ethan wondered if he was worrying all for nothing.

She looked strong. She looked healthy. She even looked happy.

But something told him that she wasn’t, and against his best wishes, he trusted it.

Charlie left Edenbrook to a relieved fanfare. Everyone wished her well and showered her in comfort and adoration. A few of the nurses who had stayed with her this week took turns giving her goodbye hugs. When they held her, a quiet thought wondered if they just wished they could hug Danny. A pair of rowdy interns cheered when she walked by, but Zaid silenced them with a glare. Sienna paused her rounds just to give Charlie a big, tight hug.

It was a powerful and cheerful time.

But then she was at the front door of Edenbrook, and Charlie hesitated.

She felt almost contained to Edenbrook, like something would break if she exited.

It was an irrational fear, of course. That’s what she told herself when she finally made that first step on the sidewalk.

They never made it out.

Charlie felt the air get knocked out of her chest at the mere thought.

But that was ridiculous. It was a thought – and an intrusive one at that.

She wouldn’t let it stop her.

What makes you so deserving to get out?

Charlie gritted her teeth and fought the thoughts as she took another step.

They didn’t stop, though. At every block, there was something new – some horrific image in her mind, some intrusive thought, or some terrible memory.

She heard it in the voices of strangers on the street, but every time she looked over at them, they hadn’t really said a thing. They observed her wild, scared expression with a sense of concern and avoidance. More than one stranger took a few steps away when she looked at them.

They weren’t talking to her. Charlie knew that.

Still… little snippets of their conversations twisted into dark, terrible words.

“They deserved life more, you bitch.”

“You only lived because you’re a coward.”

“Would you have even saved them, if you could? Or are you too selfish?”

Even the beep of a cell phone brought her back to the horrible, irregular beep of Raf’s heartbeat monitor that night.

It followed her.

It was everywhere.

The anxiety started in her chest, but it spread through her body like an infection.

Like the infection that should have killed her.

Charlie fought it. She rebelled against the thoughts and battled the improbability of the dreadful words. She went in and out of panic in a series of disorienting flashes.

She didn’t always know where she was.

Once, she looked around the group surrounding her as they walked the crosswalk, and she wondered how she got here. Where had she been? Where was she going?

Then, it came back. She remembered again, and she pretended she never forgot.

Somehow, she made it home.

She was relieved to see her building. Quietly, she recognized that it was a miracle she navigated so well when her grip on reality felt fragile. But she pretended that nothing was wrong. Of course, she got home. She was normal, after all. Those were just bad thoughts and bad moments. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Then she realized she was just staring at her building.

She made no moves to go inside. She didn’t even fish her keys out of her purse.

Something in there was a threat, and she couldn’t go home yet.

She started walking away with no real plan. First, she thought she would just stop at a nearby coffee shop, drink an espresso, and then go back to normal. But she walked past the coffee shop and kept walking. She wasn’t sure where she was going.

A mile later, she finally decided.

Half an hour later, Charlie knocked at Rafael’s front door. Within seconds, Rafael’s grandmother opened the door with overwhelming exuberance. Charlie hardly had a moment to process Juliana at all before she was pulled into a big, tight hug.

The affection, if just for the moment, knocked Charlie out of her fog.

Juliana ushered Charlie inside with offers of drinks and snacks.

“Oh, thank you, but this is all too much,” Charlie insisted.

“Nonsense!” Juliana exclaimed, pushing a plate in Charlie’s direction, “You saved my beautiful boy. Nothing is too much for you!”

“Your beautiful boy saved me,” Charlie asserted with a bit of guilt. She wasn’t a hero. She didn’t deserve all of this.

A gentle creak of a door alerted Charlie to Rafael’s presence, and he sheepishly corrected, “We saved each other.”

When Charlie looked in his direction to greet him, Rafael knew.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something in her eyes was amiss, even pained.

Charlie finally caved and accepted a dessert. Juliana, however, wasn’t satisfied and began packing her a tin of goodies to take home.

While she was a few feet away, Rafael took a few tentative steps towards his friend.

“How are you?” Charlie asked when he was close enough.

Rafael shrugged, “I can make it up the stairs without wheezing, which is an improvement.”

Charlie nodded slowly, “And Sora?”

“Definitely over,” Rafael confirmed, “But I think it’s for the best. You and Ethan?”

Charlie thought back to their night in quarantine, when Rafael implored her to tell Ethan how she felt. She was happy to have taken his advice.

“I told him I loved him. He told me he loved me, too. Naturally, I cried,” Charlie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I don’t think he believed me until the next day, though. Something about deathbed confessions not being as meaningful.”

“At least it worked out for one of us,” Rafael smiled playfully.

He was watching Charlie, though. She realized it during a pause in their conversation. She felt studied, and she wondered what he saw.

Whatever he interpreted couldn’t have been good because, after a beat, he asked her to join him on his walk. Just as Ethan had hours before, Rafael regarded Charlie with concern.

Charlie accepted.

They navigated Rafael’s neighborhood largely in silence. The silence invited the fog back, and by the time they reached the park, Charlie felt like she was fighting against wet sand to keep moving. She was almost as exhausted as Rafael as they collapsed into a nearby bench.

Charlie felt like Rafael was the only person in the world who might understand what she couldn’t yet put a name to. But given the opportunity, she was too afraid to ask. If she asked, it would be real, and she wasn’t ready for it to be real.

“I never asked how you were,” Rafael said pointedly.

“Are you asking now?” Charlie asked, looking ahead at the park instead of her friend.

“I am.”

Charlie thought for a moment – maybe too long of a moment, really.

“My reports say I’m perfectly healthy,” Charlie finally answered.

“That’s wasn’t quite what I asked,” Rafael seemed amused like he had expected her to evade him.

Charlie rolled her eyes at his smirk, but it was a show. She just wanted to seem amused, too.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

He gave her time, allowing the silence to stretch until she finally had the strength.

“Does it stay like this?”

Rafael raised an eyebrow in silent question, and she let the façade slip just enough for him to know what she meant.

Charlie wanted Rafael to tell her that, while he felt what she feels now, it eased over time. Being home helped him become whole again. The thoughts and the panic would subside if she just waited.

But Rafael told her the truth instead.

“Yes,” he admitted, “I feel it every second. Sometimes, I feel like it’s harder at home. I wake up at home with my family and my life. And they… they don’t.”

His words crushed Charlie, and she sank further into the bench.

“Do you feel like it’s everywhere?” her voice was so soft, so scared that it shook Rafael to his core, “Like… if you’re just walking down the street, do you feel like you hear the bad thoughts? The ones that remind you of what happened.”

Rafael looked terrified.

He was, he realized belatedly.

Not just for himself and his trauma but for her and hers.

“Sometimes,” Rafael confirmed, “I feel it mostly in the pain… When my body aches and fails to do easy things, I’m so angry and then… Then, I remember why and what happened – and that Bobby and Danny only felt the pain in the end.”

Charlie grimaced, and she held onto the bench until her fingers turned white, fighting the wave of pain that followed the mental image. She looked pale and on the verge of collapse when she finally opened her eyes again.

“Don’t go today,” Rafael warned.

“I have to,” Charlie swallowed, “I couldn’t save them… I might as well honor them.”

Rafael didn’t have much of a counterargument, so he didn’t give one. He understood. In a lot of ways, he felt the same about the memorial. He, unlike Charlie, had been saved by his precarious health. He didn’t have to make that choice. He was relieved, even if he felt a twinge of cowardice for not even trying to go.

When Rafael didn’t try to stop her, their conversation fell into a lull.

The silence was nice.

Neither of them expected anything from the other.

They didn’t have to pretend to be okay…

Maybe they should have stayed.

But they didn’t.

Charlie, looking at her watch, realized she was running out of time. When she told Rafael that she had to go, she looked normal again – strong, even. Like she was clothed in armor. Like, maybe, if you squinted, you didn’t have to worry about her.

Rafael wished her well, and she started to leave.

“Wait, Charlie,” Rafael called out before she got too far away.

Charlie stopped, turning to him with an expectant expression.

“Thank you for making it out of that room.”

Her heart stopped, and her eyes watered.

They were supposed to be dead, and her heart burst with how happy she was that he was alive.

“Thank you for making it out, too,” Charlie was sure she had never meant a thank you as strongly as she meant that one.

He smiled softly, and then she left.

This time, when she reached her apartment, she had the courage to step inside.

It was… eerily the same.

Like this apartment was magically immune to all of the pain and trauma.

Something echoed in the halls, something she couldn’t yet touch.

The thoughts were distant though, but… so was everything else.

Charlie tried to put her life back together. She unpacked her things, cleaned her room, and started a pot of coffee. The entire time, she struggled to keep moving. She kept finding little moments of lost time. Alone, they were strange, but together, they were terrifying.

She knew her surroundings, yet something about them felt strange. She knew where she was, what she was doing, and what she was supposed to do next. But the haze…

It surrounded her.

It was everywhere but somehow out of sight.

She never saw it coming, but when she snapped out of it, she realized it had enveloped her.

She was empty, but the thoughts were finally quiet.

She felt nothing, but at least she didn’t feel the torture.

Charlie kept going because Charlie was the kind to always keep going.

When she turned on the shower, she was fighting to stay here, to stay aware. She wanted to stay.

The water was hot, obscenely so. The shock to her system burned more than just her skin. Her mind felt like it was ablaze, and finally, Charlie felt herself again. She didn’t know how much she missed her awareness until it was back. She turned the water hotter to keep feeling it.

Then…

She was back in the hospital – in the burning hot shower after she was released from quarantine. She was alone washing off the sweat and grime of that hospital room. She used shower products that weren’t hers, that didn’t smell or feel like her. She was alive. But who else was?

She was a lone survivor. She was the final girl. She was the lucky one.

Charlie screamed.

No. No, Charlie really screamed.

She was back in her apartment, and she was screaming.

She caught her breath, reaching for slippery tiles to find her balance.

She slid. Or maybe she sat down.

But she was on the shower floor, knees pulled to her chest as she begged for fresh air.

She sat on that shower floor, hoping for a miracle. She put faith in everything.

In the water, that it would wash away her pain.

In the air, that it would allow her to exhale her guilt.

In her body, that it would remember how to stand again.

But gasping through the water, she just felt like she was drowning.

Then…

When it was too much, when it was all too much, it stopped.

Like a warm, protective hug, her brain shielded her.

And then it was over.

What felt like seconds later, there were loud knocks at her front door. They were jarring and set her free from wherever she had been.

Charlie looked around frantically, trying to remember where she was.

The shower was still running, through the water was less hot now.

Everything looked the same, but…

But the sun was lower.

Charlie scrambled for a towel and turned off the shower. She fumbled for her phone on the counter, and her heart sank.

An hour.

She had lost an hour.

The knocking started again, and Charlie didn’t have the time to process what her lost hour meant. Still trying to get her bearings right, Charlie went to the front door and swung it open to find out who the fuck was so insistent about getting inside.

It was… Ethan.

And he was dressed in a suit.

Why was he-?

The memorial.

Ethan watched as her eyes widened in understanding and then panic.

He didn’t know what to think or how to interpret her apparent confusion. She was soaking wet still, as if she had just gotten out of the shower, and her skin was bright red, like it had been burned by the water. She looked…

Confused.

And scared.

Ethan immediately knew that something was wrong.

“Charlie, are you okay?” he broached carefully, taking a step toward her. He wanted to hold her, but she looked fragile…

“Yeah, I just, um… I was just…” Charlie stammered, “What time is it?”

“Three,” Ethan answered.

“What?” Charlie felt a wave of nausea. The memorial was at 3:30.

Ethan surveyed her again, taking in every clue like she was a mystery to be solved.

The wet hair. The confusion. The panic. The inability to explain.

What was it?

How did he help her?

“Charlie, why don’t you know what time it is?” Ethan asked cautiously, placing his hands carefully on either shoulder. She was hot to the touch.

“I, um, I was just in the shower,” Charlie answered. She felt like her mind was sludge, and words were nearly impossible to string together, “I must have zoned out and lost track of time.”

“For how long, Charlotte?”

Charlie dropped her eye contact and shrugged.

He leaned closer, pushing her soaking wet curls out of her face, “Rookie, please. How long?”

Her green eyes were full of fear as she finally admitted, “An hour.”

Ethan’s chest tightened, and he let out a horrified, terrified huff of breath. Instinctively, he pulled her in, tucking her safely in his chest where he knew she was okay.

She told herself she didn’t know why he was doing this. It just a little bit of time – only a little scary. More confusing than anything.

But she fell into his arms like she needed it because she did.

Ethan didn’t care that she got his suit wet.

He only cared that he had her.

“We’re not going today, Charlie,” Ethan decided authoritatively, “We’re not.”

“Ethan!”

“You’re not,” Ethan said more firmly.

“I have to be there!”

“No, no, you don’t,” Ethan pulled away just enough to look at her so she would know how intensely he meant this, “You do not need to go, Charlie. You need to make it through today. I’m not letting you do this to yourself just because you feel some obligation. Charlotte Greene, you owe your survival to no one.”

He knew she didn’t believe him by the way she averted her eyes.

“I have to go,” she insisted forcefully.

“No,” Ethan shook his head, reaching for her hand determinedly, “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He started to pull her to her bedroom, but she remained firm.

“Please, Ethan,” she pleaded.

Ethan felt a moment of pause.

The way she looked at him… like she needed this, like she needed him to let her have this.

His heart broke.

His beautiful, wonderful Charlie was in so much pain.

And he caved.

He caved because he wanted to make it go away so, so badly that he was willing to make a thousand mistakes.

He grimaced but consented, “Fine. But we still need to get you dressed.”

Getting dressed, like everything else, was hard.

Charlie struggled against her mental fog, and as a result, she moved slowly. She was frustrated as she tried to push through her shortened routine. Even just putting her hair into a braid felt like a monumental task, and she cursed under her breath.

Why couldn’t she just be okay?!

Ethan stepped in before she could get too irritated. He helped her finish the braid and secured it behind her back. He found her dress hanging on the door and helped her step into it. He hesitated after he finished with the zipper, wondering once more if he should stop her before it was too late.

“I’ll be okay,” Charlie whispered, watching his hesitation in the mirror.

Ethan didn’t believe her.

Instead, he kissed the side of her head and whispered, “I love you, Charlie.”

She smiled – a real one. A tired one, but a real one.

Ethan found her shoes on the bed, and he held her hand for stability as she stepped into her high heels.

Then, she was ready…

And he had to take her.

Ethan didn’t leave her side, not for a single second. Not when they parked at the cemetery and were surrounded by friends and coworkers. Not when people tried to call him over to give their condolences. Not when Charlie’s friends surrounded and showered her in support.

Especially not when Danny and Bobby’s families greeted her and thanked her for all she did to try to save them. Not after, when they stepped away, Charlie collapsed into his side, tears running down her face.

He never left her.

Ethan held her hand the entire time. He didn’t give a shit who saw or what they said.

It was a relief when the service began, and everyone stopped crowding her. They stood in the back, where no one cared when Ethan put his arm around Charlie’s waist to hold her up. It was a lovely service – lighthearted but reverent. There were heartwarming stories and cheerful anecdotes. Bright, shining moments of joy were followed by waves of grief and anger.

When the families stepped up to the podium and began to speak, Charlie absently whispered to Ethan, “I think I’m supposed to speak…”

Ethan thought that was a terrible idea.

But out of respect for her grieving process, he asked, “Do you want to?”

Charlie considered it.

In her pocket, she had a piece of paper where she’d scribbled thoughts last night. It was full of platitudes and grief, even an admission that she couldn’t save them.

She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say any of it.

She couldn’t even hear it.

“I think I want to go home,” she replied.

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, squeezing her waist reassuringly, “Okay. I’ll tell Naveen, and then we’ll go.”

Charlie nodded weakly and missed his warmth the second he stepped away. A minute later, Ethan returned to guide her back to the parking lot. They slipped away quietly. Only a few people noticed, and they were respectful enough to not say a word.

In the car, Ethan held her hand.

The fog was back and even stronger.

Charlie was silent. At times, she felt like the only thing keeping her connected to reality was Ethan holding her hand.

Ethan took her back to his apartment, where he knew she would be safe and free from well-meaning mourners and friends. He held her in the elevator and regretted letting her go to unlock his front door. Ethan had never been more relieved by Jenner’s love than when he saw Jenner shower his girlfriend with affection, allowing her to crack a small smile.

Ethan left Charlie and Jenner in the living room to change out of his wet jacket.

Alone for the first time since he found Charlie, he drowned in awareness. His Charlie…

He almost cried. He wanted to cry. He wanted to release this. He wanted to go back to the hospital, where he and Charlie slept quietly and smiled from across rooms.

He didn’t want to grieve.

Neither did she.

He had to protect her. He had to save her. And he didn’t know how.

Ethan sat on the corner of his bed, waiting for an epiphany.

Instead, he found Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked quietly.

Ethan shook his head resolutely, “No. Are you?”

Charlie let out a deep, deep breath.

“Not at all.”

Ethan laughed at the honesty. She had been lying to him all day, and hearing the truth was nearly funny when it was so glaringly obvious.

“You should have made me run away with you,” Charlie grumbled, kicking off her shoes as she walked into his room. She fell into his bed like it was the only place she felt safe.

But really, did she even feel safe there?

Ethan placed a comforting hand on her back and drew a soothing pattern with his fingertips, “We still can.”

Charlie sighed, her eyes closing just a little, “Right now, I just want to stay in this bed.”

“You always liked my bed,” Ethan observed, kissing the top of her head. He kicked off his shoes and then fell back into bed beside her, turning his body to face her.

“It’s because you’re usually in it,” Charlie mused.

Her eyes were closed with Ethan decided to wrap his arms around her, tucking her head safely in his chest. She fit in his arms like he was designed to hold her…

When she looked up at him again, there was something raw hidden in the green of her iris.

“I almost lost you,” she said it like it was a revelation, one she hadn’t let herself think of since that night.

“I think it’s more accurate to say I almost lost you,” Ethan suggested.

“I’m serious, Ethan.”

“So am I.”

Charlie hadn’t allowed those kinds of thoughts or memories to permeate her life. She hadn’t wanted to be sad, but…

They happened.

They were real.

They followed her anyway.

“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” Charlie said, more to herself than to Ethan, “I was relieved. I missed you, but… I didn’t…”

Something was stabbing her.

Something inside. Something sharp and terrible and scary and it was here.

“I didn’t want you to watch me die,” she said in one breath, just to get it the fuck out of her.

She needed it out. She needed all of it out. It was trapped. It was torturing her. It was going to kill her.

She couldn’t breathe.

Or maybe she could…

She panted, trying to just fucking decide.

The fog was gone. The haze left.

And she was there, and she felt it. She felt all of it.

Nothing came to save her from the feeling.

She wanted to scream again, but it came out as a mighty, aching cry. She devolved into uncontrollable, body-shaking sobs.

The cracks in her perfect, sunny day splintered and shattered the illusion. There was nothing to hold on to now… It was just rain.

No, she was wrong.

There was one thing to hold on to.

And she held onto him just as tightly as he held on to her.

Ethan wasn’t going to let go, so Charlie let herself fall.

That didn’t go where I thought it was going to go, but wow... this may be the saddest chapter I’ve ever written.

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if you would like to be added/removed/I forgot you, let me know

@schnitzelbutterfingers @curiousconch @starrystarrytrouble @jessirosebud @lucy-268 @aestheticartsx @eramsey28 @macy-ray85 @octobereighth @queencarb @claredal424 @mercury84choices @drariellevalentine @wonderwithrobin @honeyandsunfl0wers @iemcpbchoices @queenbirbs @stateofgracious @kalogh @paulfwesley @canigetanawwjunk @blossomanarchy @lion-ess24 @hopefulmoonobject @caroldxnvxrs @senseofduties @chasingrobbie @rookieoh @delaytheinevitable @mooons-isabelle @rookie-ramsey

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welcometothemxdhouse · 3 years

Text

Lectures

Hello again wow me writing two things in one week? shocking!

Anyways this is something i promised my boo @feedthemadness-sweetie as a result of us considering what Chilton would be like as a professor...so i hope you like it :)

I might write a part 2 i don’t know...maybe...also this is gender-neutral.

WARNINGS: none really...oh this is insanely unprofessional and a bit fucked up so idk lmao don’t kiss your professors.

Gif by: @prurientpuddlejumper ❤

You were sat in the uncomfortable, plastic chair pulling out your laptop when the door to the lecture hall opened. The tapping of a metal cane against the floor made every student in the room fall silent. Your professor, Doctor Chilton, wasn’t exactly known for his patience and hospitality when it came to teaching and his entire demeanour just signalled he believed himself to be far superior to anybody else who could possibly arrive in his classroom. It was for this reason that students tended to avoid the doctor as much as possible, keeping their heads down with only the occasional snarky comment about his thousand dollar suits or his arrogant approach to teaching. You, however, were slightly infatuated with Doctor Chilton.

You watched from over your screen as Chilton strode across the hall and settled behind his desk.

“If you stare any longer you’re gonna burn a hole into his back”

You turned to your right to see your best friend settling into their seat, only slightly startled out of your daydream. They were smirking at you as you shifted uncomfortably and muttered “I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure you weren’t, kid, sure you weren’t” they laughed, twisting in their chair to see who had actually bothered to turn up to the lecture. As you did the same you noticed a few people whispering pointedly in Doctor Chilton’s direction, which caused a small knot to form in your stomach. You knew there was no way he wasn’t aware of the things people said about him.

The lecture went by as slowly as ever-the clock seemed to enjoy playing tricks on you when you were most desperate to get home. Your final exams were looming over the horizon and you were more than stressed about their presence. When at last Doctor Chilton decided he had tortured you all enough he dismissed everyone to mutters about him running over time and being a pretentious asshole. You stood up, stretched your legs and quickly packed your things back into your bag to keep up with your best friend-who was equally in need of a very strong coffee before your next class.

“Y/N”, you paused, “i would like to speak to you please.”

You turned on your heels, letting go of the door handle after your friend had passed through with the promise to pick up your coffee order for you and bring it to the seminar you had in 10 minutes. You walked towards your professor’s desk and stood, aimless and clueless, on the other side as he began gathering his own belongings and raised a finger in a wait motion. With his focus elsewhere you allowed yourself a few seconds to take in his look. He was wearing dark three-piece suit with a white shirt. His hair was gelled back and his stubble was well-kept. In fact the only indication of any personality or life story behind the layers of expensive fabrics and grooming products was the circular scar on his cheek that was partially covered by poorly-applied concealer. Most people knew how the infamous Doctor Frederick Chilton got his scar and your mind screamed with how much you wanted to run your thumb over it and reassure him he had no reason to hide it. The grating sound of the chair being pushed backwards pulled you from your daydreams. When he stood up you didn’t miss the way his eyes dragged themselves up your form. You would never admit it to yourself, (or anyone else for that matter), but you had developed just a small habit of making yourself look a little more presentable on the days you knew you had a lecture with Doctor Chilton. You had left the classic stressed and sleep-deprived student style behind and substituted it for the clothes that clung to your form a little tighter and highlighted your assets-much to the joy of your best friend who took delight in laughing at you for the fact.

“Can I help you, sir? you asked, still unsure as to why you were made to stay behind.

“You are aware that your exams are soon, yes?” He said, more as a statement than a question, as he began to round his desk to stand in front of you. You were slightly offended he would even ask that considering it was the only thought consuming your mind for the past month.

“Yes sir?”

“And you believe you are ready for them?”

You thought about this for a second and wondered if anybody could ever really be ‘ready’ for exams. But you had studied hard and you knew your own abilities.

“I hope so, sir”

Doctor Chilton stepped forward so he was now within touching distance of you. You took a nervous, deep breath and god he smelt so good. You ran your hand through your hair and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth-both nervous habits but ironically convenient for the current situation-and looked into the hazel eyes of the man stood in front of you. You opened your mouth to ask him, again, why you were there but he quickly interrupted you:

“Do you think I don’t notice the way you stare at me?”

You stumbled on your breath, dumbfounded and confused, and tried to think of something to say. Right in that moment the only thing your brain could conjure was: SHIT! Before you had the chance to comprehend what was happening he rested his cane against the front of his desk and stepped forward again. His hand reached towards your waist before stopping and hovering between the two of you. His eyes flickered down to your lips and back up again.

“Can I?” He whispered.

Your hand left its place on your bag and wrapped your fingers gently around his wrist, pulling his hand towards you until it settled on your hip. A simple, muttered “Yes” was all it took before the doctor plunged forwards and captured your lips with his. The kiss was everything you had dreamed of, (and you definitely had dreamed on more than one occasion). His lips were soft and you tasted the strong coffee he had been drinking as your tongue explored his mouth. His other hand slid up your neck and tangled itself in your hair and he smiled against your mouth as you moaned louder than you had intended at the light tug he gave on the back of your head. He began to spin you until your lower back was resting against his desk and tilted your head so he could trail kisses down your jaw and your neck. He listened to your heavy breaths and quiet whimpers with a smug smile and a growing tightness in his trousers. After a few seconds, you reached up to rest your hands on his chest and reluctantly pushed him gently away, out of breath and slightly shocked. You wanted nothing more than to let him bend you over that stupid desk and leave with the feeling of his release sliding down your thighs. You shivered at the thought.

“I have a seminar, sir” you sighed. You enjoyed the way his eyes darkened momentarily at the nickname you had adopted for him and you made a mental note to remember it. He grabbed his cane from the desk beside you and rested his weight on it so he could stand upright. His chest heaved and his eyes drifted to the floor. He almost looked sad...or embarrassed. You would find out later that he believed that the kiss had changed your mind and you had decided he wasn’t what you wanted-even the thought of it would break your heart. You grabbed your long-forgotten bag with one hand and fixed your hair with the other, completely unsure of what to do or say now. Of course you didn’t want this to be a one-time thing but you were also starkly aware that not only had he only acknowledged your interest in him, he was also your goddamn professor.

“I...I’ll see you next week...i guess?” You stammered, backing slowly towards the door. You were already late for your seminar and he knew that too, so there was little point in faking a rush. Doctor Chilton’s stare bore heavy into you with an emotion you couldn’t quite interpret and you almost turned away and ran, until he spoke just as you reached the door:

“My office hours are 2PM to 4PM, if you’d like to drop by?”

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that you’d take him up on the offer.

#Frederick Chilton #frederick chilton fanfic #frederick chilton x reader #frederick chilton x y/n #hannibal fic

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bunnirs · 4 years

Text

Scarlet Crossroads:

Chapter One: 113

Scarlet Crossroads Masterlist

Running away was almost second nature to you by now.

Maybe running was a harsher word than what was needed. Well, for better word, avoiding seemed to fit your situation better. You didn’t run because you were scared, no, you had nothing to be scared of. You just didn’t like to take responsibility over the fact that you were a monster.

It was no secret that you were dangerous. You walked around with your head held low, your expression hidden from everyone. They couldn’t tell what the hell you were thinking, but your aura gave them a hint, and they didn’t want to know.

Your aura was immense. Almost suffocating to those who got too close. Your hair was kept behind a bandanna, seeing as even the slightest strand would distract you. You wanted complete control over your body, and getting aggravated over one tiny baby hair seemed a bit much.

You could say the bandanna was kin to one that one of your ‘partners’ had, though you didn’t like to admit it. In fact, anything that reminded you of them seemed to set you in a bad mood.

As if your thoughts betrayed you, that was the only thing you could think about.

The Phantom Troupe were people you had known since birth. They stood in as the family you never had. In a way, you even had a brother, who just happened to be the leader of said troupe. To your relief, you weren’t blood related, but blood never really mattered between the troupe. You all were stuck together. Like glue.

You felt a large amount of guilt over the subject. They gave you everything, and yet, you couldn’t stand to be near them. You never had the freedom you wished for. They always stuck to you like dogs, their attention almost unbearable.

Chrollo Lucilfer was to blame for this. Your brother, the infamous leader of the Spiders, seemed to think you couldn’t handle yourself. In all honesty, you could. You had one of the strongest abilities compared to those of the troupe, and since you weren’t a member, they seemed to trap you inside their web. They used you for missions sometimes, finding your power quite fitting. You hated it. You weren’t some pet for them to use.

They liked to say you had a rebellious streak. You’d leave, they’d send someone after you, and you’d come home. You were nothing but a rebellious teenager in their minds.. and it pissed you off.

You couldn’t stay mad at them though. You were the youngest, and happened to be their boss's little sister. They worried and cared for you, that much was obvious. But them treating you like a baby? That got old quick.

You didn’t want to be seen as a child. You wanted to be seen as an equal. You were just as strong, just as dangerous, but they didn’t seem to notice. No, they just didn’t seem to care.

It was all bullshit though, and it made you chuckle darkly to yourself.

The familiar ding of a bell brought you back from your inner turmoil, and your eyes focused on the small screen in the elevator. It read ‘B-100’, most likely standing for “Basement 100”, but with your state of unsettlement, you could be wrong. But of course, you weren’t.

The screeching of the doors could be compared to that of cats on a black board. Maybe it was your sensitive ears, but it was painful as it shook the elevator as a whole. You gritted your teeth, your eyes rolling as you grew annoyed with yourself.

You didn’t know why you were so angry, but you were. This whole situation fucking sucked.

The real reason behind you taking the Hunter exam? You wanted a license so you could go somewhere so far, the troupe couldn’t bring you back. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to find you. That would be too good to be true though.

The bandanna on your head felt heavy, almost like the guilt that seemed to turn within your stomach. Maybe leaving them forever was too harsh. Maybe you’d visit, just for old times sake. While you, Chrollo, and the Troupe had your fair share of disagreements, you still were a family right?

Goddamn why was it so hard to make a decision?

Maybe because they decided all of yours for you.

No. You needed to get used to working alone. You needed a break from them. You couldn’t depend on them for answers. You would most likely outlive them.

Keyword of that statement? Most likely.

Your aura had failed to calm down, roughly thanks to your realization of helplessness. The dark red aura had transformed into shapes that resembled spikes, clearly influenced by your mood.

The elevator seemed to finally open all the way, making the aura suddenly shoot in all directions, disappearing. The trip down felt like hours, and it seems being trapped in a small room didn’t help.

The cold air hit you, and that made a chill run up your arms, settling at your spine. You breathed out, taking your first step off the elevator.

Before you could even get through, you bumped into something.. or maybe even someone?

Stepping back a little, you saw who fell victim to your lack of awareness. Standing multiple feet below you was a small green man, his name tag reading ‘Beans’. Who in their right mind would name their son Beans? Certainly no one with standards.

“Hello, my name is Secretary Beans! Please, take this number and put it on. Thank you and Good Luck.” It seems with that, the short jelly bean of a man waddled away, a tag now left in your hands.

He left before you could thank him. You mentally thanked him, not really feeling up to making conversation, especially with someone who’s name made you want to cry.

Now back on topic, you looked back down to the tag in your hands, studying its content. It read ‘113’. How peculiar. It seems with new found curiosity, you decided to step through the elevator again. Hopefully nothing would stop you this time, fearing that the elevator would crush you alive.

As your shoe met the cold, dull concrete, the aura of another seemed to catch your attention. Standing only a few meters away from you was the owner of said aura, and the mere shock was enough to send you into orbit.

Why the hell was he here? Did Chrollo send him to watch you? No, was it to stop you from taking the exam? You couldn’t fathom an answer good enough it seems.

So why was Hisoka Morow, Troupe Member number 4, standing in front of you?

“What a coincidence in seeing you here… Y/N.” His signature grin struck something within you, and you broke out into a coughing fit.

How you’d love to wipe that smug grin off his face.

Truth is, you knew about Hisoka’s quarrel with your brother… and yet, you didn’t mind. Maybe it was the fact that you had a mutual liking to each other, or the fact that you wanted to see what your brother looked like with a broken nose.

Of course you wouldn’t allow your brother to actually get killed. There’s no way you’d allow that. But in hindsight, there’s no way he’d be defeated. He’s too strong for that.

Whatever it was between you and Hisoka, you didn’t like it. It was almost as if you and him were the same.

What a load of shit though. You and him? The same? Just the idea of that made you laugh.

Hisoka seemed shocked at your distant gaze, the dull laugh leaving your throat sent shivers up his spine. “Oh? What’s so funny?”

You snapped out of it, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “You look like an idiot.” You grimaced, looking at his choice in clothes. “What are you supposed to be? A roly poly?”

“Oh I’m truly devastated. Not even the darkest cloud could compare to the depression that just hit me.” Hisoka teased, his smile widening, his long fingernail poking into your forearm. You were sure if he pressed any harder, he’d break skin.

“You’re getting off on this.. aren’t you?” You stated, your voice holding a certain calmness that certainly didn’t fit the situation at all.

“Oh how low of you to expect such a thing from me? Your dear friend, might I even say, family?” He removed his finger, a card slipping into his vacant fingers. The sound of paper cutting through air would’ve startled you if you were a normal person, but to your dismay, you weren’t normal.

“Gross.” You muttered, catching a stray card that had just flown towards your face. This man was truly testing your patience. Could he let you get away from the elevator at least? “No way in hell are we family.” You said sternly, a growl almost forming in your throat.

“So you’d settle on friends then?” Hisoka smirked, his eyes narrowing as his eyes trailed down your form.

“No.” You grumbled, pushing past him. “You’re more like a fly if anything. Annoying, loud, and stupid.”

“Oh how you wound me.” He faked a frown, his eyes crinkling up as his nose scrunched, his tongue grazing over his lips as he flipped a card in his hand. “Do try not to die alright? Chrollo would be very disappointed you know.”

“Is that anything new?” You pondered, but you were already too far ahead for him to answer, much less hear you.

The truth was clear as day, if you continued to live like this, you wouldn’t outlive the troupe at all. Which is why, you’d get your license, show it to the troupe, and leave.

You immediately concluded those thoughts, now emptying them from your mind. Dwindling on something so far in the future seemed like a waste of energy, and you really needed that right now. It seems you have an exam to plow through.

SOOWEE MAMA HERE’S CHAPTER ONE OF MY LONG KURAPIKA X READER UMMMMM

JUST TY GUYS SO MUCH FOR CHEERING ME ON AND SUPPORTING ME!! i FEEL LIKE THIS ISN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR Y’ALL BUT I JUST WANTED TO GET THIS OUT FOR YOU OMG OMG OMG

FUN FACTS:

THE BANDANNA Y/N IS WEARING IS THE SAME TYPE OF BANDANNA FEITAN WEARS AROUND HIS MOUTH. Ever since Y/N was little, she’d try to steal and wear Feitan’s bandanna, so he got her a matching one. (He stole it of course but it’s the thought that counts)

Y/N’s badge number is 113 for a reason! If you look up Chrollo’s actual theme song, you will notice that it is called “1/13″. I also made sure this number wasn’t used by any of the important characters in the Hunter Exam!! So it checks out!!

Y/N is also aware about Hisoka being a fake member! Seeing as she’s not an actual troupe member, she sees no right in outing him. Besides she finds it funny omlllll.

Y/N is 17 years of age!!! She’s a literal teen so she will not be in any sort of ship with Hisoka/Illumi/Feitan/Ect.

THANKS AGAIN OMG OMG OMG ILY

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