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iobsessoverfictionalmen · 1 year

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Hunting Roses - Chapter 3

AN: This is a yandere Zemo fic. That means that it will have dark content. I do not endorse these relationships and behaviour in real life. This chapter contains spoilers for past Marvel movies and mentions of a panic attack.

The first thing that you heard when your feet touched the solid ground was a frightened yell of “BABA YAGA!”

“No Kurt,” a soothing, familiar voice replied, sounding more than a little exasperated as you opened your eyes, “that is (Name). She is a former student.”

You smiled at the Professor and waved at Kurt.

“You should come inside. We have a lot to discuss,” Professor Xavier stated as he turned his wheelchair around and wheeled himself back inside the school.

Even though the Professor had reassured Kurt that you weren’t Baba Yaga, whoever that was, you still caught the anxious and suspicious glances that Kurt sent in your direction as you walked inside the school.

Growing frustrated with Kurt’s attitude, you spoke, “Who exactly is Baba Yaga?”

Kurt looked embarrassed at being caught but answered you nonetheless, “Baba Yaga is a witch that eats children.” You were pretty sure that he was from Russia, judging by his accent. Kurt wasn’t finished with his explanation, “She come at night and she steal them. If she is hunting you, no lock or door will stop her.”

You raised your eyebrows even as a feeling of nostalgia bubbled up inside of you while you walked through the mansion, “You thought I was Baba Yaga because I appeared from nowhere in front of you right?”

“Da.” Kurt confirmed with a nod. You reached the Professor’s office at the same time and Kurt gestured for you to walk through the doorway first. You murmured a thank you and Kurt followed you.

As soon as you stepped into the office, Storm engulfed you in a hug. “We saw what you did in Sokovia.”

“Magneto and Mystique even dropped by to see if you’d come back,” Logan grunted, “got the feeling they were impressed with you.”

You shifted uneasily at the mention of Magneto once Storm released you. You had a nagging feeling that his visit was more to do with your guess about Wanda’s parentage than him dropping by because he was impressed with how you acted in Sokovia.

“Good to have you back (Name),” Jean greeted as she moved a chair over towards you.

“May I look inside your mind?” Professor Xavier inquired.

You had a feeling this was coming and you nodded as Jean moved to stand behind the Professor. Despite your own nerves, you sent her a reassuring smile once you realised that she would be temporarily projecting your memories into the minds of everybody in the office.

As you exhaled, you felt the Professor’s presence in your mind and you focused on the memory of Ross introducing the Accords and the discussion afterwards.

“Whoa, that was definitely not what I expected,” Scott breathed after the Professor withdrew from your mind.

“Took the words right outta my mouth, One Eye,” Logan agreed.

Jean was visibly trembling and the room was starting to shudder as well. You jumped out of the seat and got Scott’s attention with a quick gesture. Thankfully, his mind was thinking alongside the same path that yours was and he guided Jean across the room and sat her down in the chair.

“Those that do not learn from the past are condemned to repeat it,” the Professor quoted mournfully as Jean’s panic attack subsided.

“I couldn’t stay there and watch that kind of thing happen again,” you revealed, “and there’s also the slight problem of me being offered immunity when no other Avenger was offered that perk.”

“That worries me too,” Scott commented, “don’t take this the wrong way, (Name) but if I was the one handing out immunity for something like this, you wouldn’t be in my top three. Maybe in the top ten but I would only offer you immunity if I had no other choice.”

“I get what you’re saying” you stated before turning to the Professor, “what do you think? Do you agree with what Scott said?”

The Professor frowned thoughtfully, “I’m not sure that the Accords is the only thing going on here. Years ago when Doctor Bruce Banner was working alongside General Ross, a monster called Abomination was created on the General’s watch which forced the General and Doctor Banner to temporarily team up. As the Hulk, Doctor Banner fled after the battle but the General would have been subject to intense scrutiny as a result.”

“You think that someone with more power intervened in that situation and because of that Ross owed them a favour,” Logan suggested.

“I do.” Professor Xavier replied, “I think there are several layers to General Ross’ actions and reactions. I also think that the offer of immunity to (Name) only is a smaller part of a bigger plan. I don’t think that it was a coincidence that this offer of immunity was made at the same time that the Accords were introduced to them. Whichever way I look at this issue, I come to the same conclusion. The intent behind the Accords and the offer of immunity were meant to divide the Avengers. When I think about it, the reasons behind offering (Name) immunity range from benevolent to vengeful. Somehow, I don’t think the intent behind the offer was to harm (Name) but to harm the Avengers and ensure (Name)’s safety at the same time.”

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milo-my-beloved · 1 year

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things we don't say

A continuation of the some other life 'verse.

Playlist 🎵 Buy me a cup of tea ☕

Chapter Six: Matthias

Although Nina keeps calling Matthias their getaway driver, he feels more like a coach driver trapped on a bus filled with hyperactive children. On any other day, he would have told them to shut up by now, but one glance to his left at Nina steals any complaints from his lungs.

Her feet are propped up on his dashboard — another thing he wouldn't allow from anyone else — and her hair is blowing around her face as she sings. The rest of them are only human, but in this moment, she looks like a saint.

"You're the slowest getaway driver I've ever met," she complains, smiling up at him.

"I have a black box," he grumbles. "I can't go any faster."

"Next time, I'm getting Kaz to do it," Jesper decides.

"Next time?" Wylan asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jesper smirks, nudging his fiance's shoulder. "You know what I mean. Besides, we'll have to renew our vows at some point."

"Any excuse for a party," Nina agrees.

The drive to the courthouse only takes twenty minutes, even with Matthias sticking to the speed limits. Jesper throws himself out of the car before he stops moving, but Wylan musters enough patience to wait until they're parked. The two of them make it halfway across the car park before he can put the handbrake on.

"Have they no patience?" Matthias asks, exasperated.

Nina pats his cheek. "You just have too much, hot stuff."

She grins when he blushes. Why must she find such pleasure in flirting?

"Let's go, or they'll get hitched without us," she says.

The courthouse isn't usually open so late, but several of the interns who work there study politics alongside Inej. They find Jesper and Wylan in a corridor outside the room where they'll hold the wedding, speaking rapidly to a freckled man with dark red hair.

"And these are my friends who we'll be living with, Nina and Matthias!" Jesper finishes, gesturing at them.

The man peers up at them. "Well, I must say this whole event is a bit of a surprise, but I'm very proud of you for getting married, son."

Nina and Matthias exchange a look. Is this Jesper's dad?

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fahey." Wylan also looks a little dazed.

"Please, call me Colm. You're part of the family too, now."

The officiant steps into the hallway, his eyes darting left and right down the hallway before beckoning them in. He's younger than any of them, probably in his first year, and keeps tugging at his long, black hair.

"Where's Inej?" he asks. "She said she'd be here."

Jesper shrugs. "She's on her way. But this wedding is time-sensitive, so we really can't wait—"

Continue reading under the cut // Continue reading on AO3.

Nina tugs Matthias over to the front row of seats, dragging him into the seat next to Jesper's father. He glances over at Colm Fahey, wanting to ask him how Jesper convinced him to come, but the man looks paler than snow.

"Are you alright, sir?" he asks.

"Oh, yes, yes. I just never thought I'd see the day, that's all. His mother would be so proud. Are they truly in love? Will Wylan make my boy happy?"

He better, after all the effort they'd just put in to make sure this wedding happened. Matthias nods solemnly, hoping that's enough to address all of Colm's worries. He's only met Wylan twice before today, and one of those occasions was this week.

"He's amazing. And you should have seen Jesper when he found out Jan Van Eck was keeping his son from seeing all of us — he nearly stormed over there to give him a piece of his mind," Nina says.

Colm looks over at Wylan, who is fidgeting with something in his pocket while Jesper continues trying to persuade the officiant to start the wedding now.

"The poor lad doesn't sound like he has the loving family that he deserves, so I'm glad he's joining mine. Oh, my." He fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket, dabbing at his eyes.

The officiant crosses his arms, resolute. Evidently, Jesper's persuasion techniques aren't working, and he looks close to the end of his tether.

"We have to wait," Jesper says, retreating over to them with Wylan in tow. "Where are they?"

"Jes, there's something I want to give you," Wylan says.

Jesper raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet."

Wylan produces a ring box from his pocket. It's old, the green velvet on the outside beginning to fray, but Wylan cradles it as if it's the most precious thing in the world. "Quite the opposite, actually."

Jesper carefully plucks it out of his hand, gently opening the lid to reveal a simple gold band. For once in his life, he's speechless.

"It was my mother's," Wylan continues, fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper. "She told me to save it for my special person, and... well, that's you."

Colm dabs at his eyes again. He looks dangerously close to having some kind of emotional-related heart attack.

"Oh, Wy, I love it." Jesper sounds close to crying himself. Wylan guides the ring onto his finger, and then pulls Jesper in for a kiss.

The doors burst open and Kaz and Inej run in. They're both red from running and panting for breath, grinning like idiots and clutching onto each other's hands.

"What did we miss?" Inej asks.

In all but officiality, the wedding, Matthias thinks.

"We wouldn't start without our maid of honour and best man!" Jesper announces, as if he hasn't spent the past ten minutes trying to convince the officiant to do exactly that.

"Let's get married," Wylan says, smiling up at Jesper.

Nina squeezes his hand, and they settle into their seats.

*****

Considering the rest of the evening, the wedding foes smoothly and the rest of them have said goodnight to Colm and are back at their house by midnight.

Jesper and Wylan disappear to their shared room, giggling like children. Inej plants herself on the couch for the night, and Kaz insists on staying up to complete Wylan's tenancy agreement and re-enrollment.

Nina tugs Matthias into their bed, wrapping her warm arms around his chest and lying so close to him he can feel the soft thump of her heart against his back.

"When we get married, we're having a proper ceremony," she says, already drifting off.

"In a church," he agrees.

"With a chocolate fountain."

They fall asleep like that, tightly intertwined in each other's arms, dreaming of their own wedding.

Unfortunately, the entire house is woken up seven hours later by someone attempting to break the door down.

Matthias stirs at the incessant knocking, but it isn't enough to convince him to disturb Nina, who is still latched onto him like a sloth. When their visitor holds the doorbell down, however, he groans and sits up.

"What time is it?" Nina mumbles, rolling over and opening one bleary eye.

"Early. Go back to sleep, little red bird. I'll deal with it."

There's only one person who could kick up this much of a fuss at 7am, and Matthias won't let him bully any of his friends any longer.

Jesper and Wylan are whispering furiously to each other at the top of the stairs. Matthias is too tired to eavesdrop, so he shoulders past them and mutters, "I'll answer it."

Jesper grabs the top of his arm. "It'll be—"

"I know who it is." Matthias shrugs Jesper off easily and descends the rest of the stairs before he can protest further.

Jan Van Eck's cheeks are red with rage when Matthias opens the door. He's flanked by two burly men on either side of him, both looking like they're probably armed.

"Where's my son?" Van Eck demands. "Release him to me right now!"

"Who are you?" Matthias asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"I am Jan Van Eck, and you're holding my son hostage," he splutters.

"Like you held him hostage?" Jesper snaps from the bottom of the stairs. Matthias glances back at him, one arm protectively wrapped around Wylan's trembling shoulders.

So much for pretending to be ignorant, then.

"Please remove yourself from our property," Matthias tries instead.

"Not without my son! I won't have him—" Van Eck pauses, lowering his voice, spit flying out of his mouth. "I won't let him run loose in Ketterdam, ruining my reputation."

"I think you're doing an excellent job of ruining your own reputation, Mr. Van Eck," Inej retorts, leaning on the doorframe leading to the living room. It's the first time Matthias has ever seen her hair down and she's wearing cat print pajamas, but her glare is so fierce he nearly apologises to her out of instinct.

"You're not welcome here. Leave, or I'll call the stadwatch," Matthias repeats.

"Who do you — you children think you are? If you call the stadwatch, they'll take the word of an upstanding mercher over that of a handful of teenagers any day."

"Actually, none of us are teenagers any more." Kaz steps forwards, his eyes as black as ink, those of a shark locking onto its prey. "Or did you forget your own son's age? Besides, I'm sure they'll believe us when we show them the evidence of how you forced your precious son to drop out of university, stole his phone, and refused to let him leave the house."

Van Eck squints at Kaz, clearly not intimidated by the claims. "And what proof do you have of that?"

One moment, Kaz's hands are empty, and the next, he's holding up Wylan's phone for all of them to see. "I think the texts Wylan snuck to Jesper and testimony from his tutor and a guard you posted outside his door should be enough, don't you think?"

Van Eck takes a step forward, but Matthias moves to block his entrance to the house. He jabs a finger in Kaz's direction. "He's my son. He has no right to live here or go to the university if I say so—"

"He's been re-enrolled," Kaz says coldly.

"And our landlord allows the addition of a married partner to join the tenancy agreement at any time," Wylan adds. It's the first thing he's said since his father showed up, and he looks proud of himself.

Van Eck turns his gaze to Jesper for the first time. Wylan's hand is gripping onto his husband's shoulder tightly, the ring that started this mess on clear display. Jesper holds up his left hand too, a shit-eating grin on his face as Van Eck sees his ex-wife's ring glittering against Jesper's dark skin.

"Now you have your explanation, I suggest you leave," Matthias says, squaring his chest. Van Eck brought backup expecting a fight, not to be humiliated by a group of students.

"You — how dare you?" he bellows. "You lied to me! You dare to get married to — to some man—"

Matthias decides he's had enough, and slams the door in Van Eck's face, locking it for good measure.

"If he has any sense, he'll leave," Inej says, yawning and wandering back into the living room.

"And if he doesn't, I'll wait up to call the stadwatch," adds Kaz. He vanishes through the doorway after Inej, closing it softly behind them.

Nina appears at the top of the stairs, rubbing her eyes. "What did I miss?"

Matthias squeezes past a stunned Jesper and Wylan to meet her. "Nothing, dear. I was just coming back to bed."

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #six of crows #helnik #matthias helvar #nina zenik #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #wesper #kanej #sabpromptweek2023 #my writing #mmb writes #the things we don't say

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thequeenoffishburrito · 2 years

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Warning: A lot of this is just me going off so this is going to come off as word vomit and I'm so sorry if it does/you're confused.

Can I just say something, I'll definitely get hate from both sides but I wanna say it:

So I dont ship kaeluc, but if people do ship it while I dont agree with the ship, I know (for the most part) these shippers are not the worst people in the world. Like I have a friend who ships kaeluc and while I dont agree with them it's not a deal breaker for our friendship and I still love them to pieces.

See my take is this is: the whole sworn brothers trope isnt a problem, having a close relationship with somebody, even somebody you knew since you were a kid and considering your relationship deeper than friendship (which can either just be a really strong friendship or be just a way to hide the fact that said characters are gay because chinese censorship laws) is fine. There's nothing wrong with that, I'm ok with that. What I'm not ok with is raising the two together as kids by 1 family like they were siblings. Because there are ways people can be raised closed by and not be seen as incest but kaeya and diluc arent those people, in my eyes.

Like let's say there are two kids who know each other from childhood and go to each others house and treat each other like they're family, and then as they grow older they realise "oh shit, I fucking love this person" theres nothing wrong with that, I'm ok with that.

Or lets go a step further, say there are two different families each family with a kid living under one roof. Both kids are raised as part of their own family in the same house as kids, and consider each other, and the other members, close like family. The two families arent tied to each other than the fact that they're super close like family, and live under one roof. That while I can see getting it getting misinterpreted/complicated in the eyes of westerners you still know that they're not related, by blood or by adoption, so if the two kids grow up and also go "oh FUCK" I'm ok with that. (Like picture teo families raising their kids because they want the kids to get married in the future/are raising them as an arranged marriage for the future)

My issue with Kaeluc specifically is that, (and again while I get there's a cultural difference and I know there's the whole just because you're raised in the same home doesnt mean you see each other as siblings sure, except for kaeluc its different.) Because unlike my example, my thing with kaeluc is Creprus was the one who took Kaeya in as a child and raised him as a kid into adult, so he was living alongside Diluc raised by the same man. And again you can say "they never saw each other as brothers" and calling me whatever because it's a cultural thing, and sure it's a cultural thing, but it's still my interpretation and my interpretation is still that is adoption. You're raising a kid that's not yours but just like they're your own kid and alongside your own kid, a father taking in another son, and so that is an adoptive father with his adopted son who's living alongside his adoptive brother.

2 people being raised by their own respective families but alongside each other so they're all close like family but know they're not related but then going on to marry the other and making the 2 families 1 is one thing. 2 kids being raised by the same family(or family member) as if they were always 1 family from the start, addressing the same figure as their parent, being treated by each other like they're the figure's children but only to decide later in life they like each other is a whole other thing.

And even if you say they no longer see each other as brothers you dont erase all thoese years they were raised like brothers, so regardless of the technicalities for kaeluc it's still weird in my opinion. (Plus I have an older brother, and we annoy the fuck out of each other. So I like seeing the two fight like that cuz it reminds me of us)

So no, I dont ship kaeluc, and so that's why I feel regardless of the 'sworn brother trope' kaeluc is different for this sense. And this spefic branch for this trope happens a lot and regardless of who it is I'm still uncomfy. Like yes if a character was taken in by a family at a much older age and realised "oh shit" that I could understand. But by raising them from childhood together like this is just eh.

And you know what? I still dont have a problem with kaeluc shippers (for the most part). Like I think my biggest issues is when you have cishet girls (and yes, even queer girls) overly sexualizing gay men for the fetish. But this applies to any mlm ship not just kaeluc. But if i only really encounter these things if I'm looking through say the kaeya tag on like Twitter but dont filter things out. And even when I do see those posts or just general kaeluc stuff I just scroll past. I dont send hate, I dont scream my head off, I'll never send death threats, and I move on with my life.

And let me just say ppl who go "kaeluc shipper DNI >:P" and then bully others, or "kaeluc antis are egotistical people who cant read and are westerners that are racist and..." who go on and on getting more aggressive with every reason are just as bad (doesnt matter if you have your reasons, bending yourself backwards to defend it rudely doesnt help your case)

I'll always say both sides have bad people. And I'll always be right.

There are frankly more pressing issues in the world that need covering and with genshin planning 10 years of updates we cant keep fighting this.

So in the end what can you take away from this?

Well if you ship kaeluc I'm not shunning you away from my posts, but if you're looking for that content sorry (plus I ship rosaeya lol)

And if you dont ship kaeluc that's fine but please dont act like you're better if you harass/bully others because of it because you're not. Or just dont bully others, please we dont need more hate in the world.

And if I have to clarify this: no I'm not pro-incest, please do not put words in my mouth. Infact if I understand correctly, (for the majority at least) kaeluc shippers arent pro-incest either. But because of all our different interpretations that's when fighting starts. I still consider kaeya and diluc brothers but I know there are people who don't. I dont agree with them but I know they have their own reasons why they dont see them as brothers so unless seen otherwise I'm aware they dont actually like incest.

Theory of mind people! Please, look it up. Please think about others people thought process. PLEASE. And again this applies to both parties.

We can coexist peacefully you know. We wont agree on this topic but we just need to stay away from it because fighting will get us nowhere.

(Ahain I'm sorry if my explanations are bad/too long/dont make sense I've just been frankly getting more sick and tired of seeing fighting everytime I try to look for funny kaeya content)

#rant #ramble #kaeya #diluc #ragbros #kaeluc

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noahhawthorneauthor · 2 years

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WIP: Phantom and Rook (MM Urban Fantasy)

Today's Words

Arlo is trying to murder me.

We sit together on a bench, Kitt sits beside me and Quentin is on the other side of Arlo. The massive picnic table is blanketed in red and white plaid, fully crowded as Caspian and Tobias bring over the last of the food from the grill.

Our thighs are touching.

He’s one of those people who tells stories with their hands, which frequently brush against my back as he waves in the chilled air behind me, or alongside my forearm when his fingers settle on the miniscule bit of plaid between us.

He’s smiling, and his eyes shine in this light like I’ve never seen before, gold and emerald specks quite literally dance in irises and he catches me staring for a few seconds too long multiple times.

To be fair, I’ve caught him staring at me, too.

His leather jacket is gone, resting on the bench between his hip and mine, revealing thick arms adorned with ink here and there. I’ve noticed when someone asks him a question, his fingers tend to find the dragon along his forearm. He’ll briefly sweep over it in one direction, then the other, and that’s all, but he doesn’t ever look at it as he does. Maybe he doesn’t realize he’s doing it at all.

The stars are a gorgeous backdrop for the strands of warm lights criss-crossing through Caspian and Tobias’ yard, the night perfectly illuminated for the group of friends I’ve come to know as the ‘Misfits.’ Caspian’s scowl has lessened, but he doesn’t make it a point to talk to me. Quentin is quiet as well, but he doesn’t seem to outright dislike me.

Although, his face brightens like the first spring day after a treacherous winter when Arlo asks him how his day was.

I listen to those around me chat with content, answering when I’m spoken to but otherwise watch the dynamics unfold with curiosity. Arlo makes sure to give each of his friends attention, but Kitt, Caspian and Quentin especially thrive under it. Lindsey and Kitt have no problem flaunting their relationship, while Caspian and Tobias keep close to each other and hold hands, but not much else.

Their children often find their way into Arlo’s lap, and Caspian looks upon Arlo with such fondness I find myself more … jealous, (yes alright I’ll admit it) of him than Quentin. Those looks from Caspian cause Arlo to flush or distract himself with conversation, whereas the plain adoration from Quentin is lost upon Arlo, or it seems that way. He talks to Quentin like he does to every one of his friends.

“So, Thatch, have you ever visited during the festival before?” Kitt asks, distracting me from watching Arlo wrestle Marlena off his shoulders.

I turn, facing her and Lindsey. “Regrettably, no. But from what I’ve seen thus far, it seems like a grand time, although I’m not sure what all the fuss is about.”

Gowan giggles from her seat across from us, as does the gladiola fae she brought with her tonight. Both fae are in full bloom, which I find fascinating. Deep yellow dandelions decorate Gowan’s grassy skin, while soft white gladiolas drift past Iris’ mossy shoulders, her long blue hair curling between the flower heads, leaves and stems with hidden roots.

“All the fuss?” Arlo starts, to which Caspian and Kitt simultaneously groan.

“Now you’ve done it.” Lindsey agrees, leaning on Kitt’s shoulder and watching me with a conspiratol grin that matches Gowan’s.

“Alright, alright. Let’s eat before Lolo pitches a fit.” Caspian says, passing around the platter closest to him.

I raise a brow at Arlo. “Lolo?”

Arlo glares at me after he passes Marlena off to Tobias. “Don’t even. I’m mad at you.”

“What!”

He nods solemnly. “This is unacceptable.”

I look to Kitt and she puts up her hands. “Arlo is very passionate about the Scarlet Illusionist.”

“You’re the one who runs a museum with not one, but two exhibits dedicated to them.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

I chuckle. “Is that the fellow I saw on the banners last night? I must say, whoever designed their outfit is quite … decadent.”

“See!” Quentin cries, pointing a potato covered serving spoon at Lindsey, much to Arlo’s approval.

The elf scoffs, flipping blonde over her shoulder. “Well I think it’s just right.”

I put my hands up. “I didn’t mean any offense! I mean, it’s just–”

Lindsey laughs. “It’s alright, we live to pick on each other. If you’re going to be around that one, you better get used to it.” She gestures to Arlo and the autumn breeze nips at my overheated neck.

“Yes, well, thank you for the advice.”

✍️✍️

Idiots in Love, Idiots in Love

Waiting is not a strong suit of mine, so here's a sneak peek of Thatch's sketch by @gagakumadraws

When I tell you I love this immortal hobo, I really mean it.

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vforvadersvendetta · 1 year

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After weeks of debate and grumbling behind closed doors about Satine’s own indecisiveness, Jango and Chernan find themselves rapidly approaching a more nomadic clan of Mandalorians alongside some of their best friends- Drogr, Jafan, the usual. The best. Especially for a job like this.

They aren’t just nomads, though- no, the Mandalore boys have been informed that this group in particular can be very hostile... which is why, for once in her life, Satine was smart to send Chernan and Jafan. Out of all the men on this ‘mission’, the two of them are the most level-headed and the least likely to start a mini war. Of course, the Keldabe sector would win, but still. The less fighting the better, especially considering Satine’s ridiculous laws that encourage peace.

“Hello,” Chernan addresses the leaders as several members of the clan start to gather to see what’s happening. “My name is Chernan Ordo. Her Royal Duchess Satine,” gods, he hates saying those words, “Has sent us on her behalf and on behalf of the city of Keldabe to collect any extra resources you may be willing to hand over.”

Ari, the leading male of the clan, huffs a laugh. “You think you can just show up here and ask for stuff that isn’t yours? Last I checked, we need the resources more than you. You literally live in a massive city-”

“Did we tell you to move out here?” Jango rasps, tilting his head slightly.

Chernan subtly lays a hand on Jango’s forearm, pleading for Jango to just let him do the talking. “What he means to say is... it was unfortunately your choice to move out here and face the possibility of resource shortages. We are simply here to collect things liiike... ammunition, blasters and daggers that may not be in use anymore, stuff like that.”

“Let me put this in a way that makes more sense to you,” Ari grumbles as he and several others lift their blasters, each of them pointing at a different member from Keldabe. “We. Aren’t. Giving you. Shit. You want it? You’ll have to defeat us honorably.”

Chernan pointedly turns his head toward the sound of a wailing baby to his right, then looks back at Ari. “There are children in this camp- do you truly believe we want to put them in any danger at all? You should be horrified at that exact thought.”

“When are you people gonna stop kissing that blonde whore’s ass and do something for yourselves?” Ari huffs, shaking his head in disbelief, “No, this ends right here. No more peace negotiations. In fact, I’ll send her all your heads in the mail, and keep your helmets, to get her reaction.”

He pulls the trigger and gets a blaster bolt right into Jango’s pauldron, the flash of light quickly bouncing off Jango’s armor. The Keldabe crew only has a few seconds to shift into formation before jumping right into a battle, then, since an Honorable Death is still so valued to these nomads in such a ridiculous way.

After nearly half an hour of what felt like nonstop fighting, Chernan and Jango lean on each other as they pant heavily, looking around at the remains of the camp the very people who were living in ruined.

Children cry and mothers huddle over them in one of the main, still-standing, and well-protected buildings, begging any Keldabe member to please spare them for their children.

Chernan slowly makes his way over to that building with Jango, pausing in the doorway to study all the babies and little toddlers sitting together. “We’ve been talking about finding a little girl,” he murmurs, thankful for Jango’s proximity because he’s just too exhausted to speak much louder, “What if... we adopted one from here? Surely a few of them are without parents now.”

“I agree,” Jango nods a little, turning to the mother currently watching all of you, “What are your plans? Will you be moving to Keldabe with us?”

“N-No,” the woman shakes her head, “Me and the other women are going someplace else.”

Jango nods again, “And how many children don’t have anyone to raise them currently?”

The woman tears up, gesturing to you and Melia. “These two both had sets of parents that just... participated,” she glances out toward the bodies being prepped for a proper send-off. “They were my friends.”

Chernan hums, “We’ll take them both with us. They deserve a good home, and we’ll ensure they get that. As for you, take the food and beverage resources you need- we were here for the artillery items.” He turns to Jango, jerking his chin at Melia, “For Leena.”

“Ah, good thinking,” Jango smiles softly, “She’ll appreciate that you thought of her.”

Chernan nods and walks over, slowly crouching down in front of you, giving you a small smile. “Hello... my name is Chernan,” he says softly.

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cherrykindness · 3 years

Text

wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

#harry styles imagine #imagine1d #imagine harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry imagine

697 notes · View notes

dothwrites · 3 years

Text

15.20 coda--at the end of the world

author’s note: while i am still reeling from the finale, this was my way of making some kind of personal peace with it. don’t mistake this for me agreeing with the choices made <3

---

“I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”--Madeline Miller

---

Castiel opens his eyes.

All around him is green. A moment later, he hears the soft sound of birds chirping in the background; from further away, the faint sounds of children laughing. The air is ripe with the smell of growth, damp in the air and life underneath his fingers.

He sits up. The sky is a perfect shade of blue, the kind found only in poet’s and painters imaginations. A few feet away, the shrubs grow, flowers spilling over themselves in their enthusiasm to be born. Everything is a riot of life and color.

“Cas.”

Castiel’s heart thumps against his ribs. He knows that voice.

He whirls around, already knowing who he’ll find. Several feet away, Jack waits, one hand raised in a short wave.

Castiel finds himself up on his feet, and within two short steps, he’s enfolded Jack in his arms. For a moment, he forgets about everything which came before, and allows himself this sheer comfort. If nothing else remains, then Jack is here.

Jack hugs him back, twice as fiercely, before they separate. Castiel holds him at arm’s length, trying to find injuries or hurt on him, but there’s nothing. In fact, it’s almost as if...

“Jack,” he says slowly, his arm falling away from Jack’s shoulder, “what happened?”

Jack smiles, a little lopsided, but still his boy.

“Well,” he says, gesturing towards a bench, “It’s kind of a long story.

---

For all that Jack said it was a long story, it ends up being remarkably quick in the telling. Castiel listens, sometimes grieving and sometimes proud, as he hears of how Sam, Dean, and Jack ultimately defeated Chuck. His heart grows in his chest as Jack recounts Dean’s words.

That’s not who I am.

A small part of him wishes that he could be there to see it, but he tucks that part of himself away. He said his piece. He relieved the burden which has been pressing down on his shoulders now for years. In his lifetime, it was nothing more than a blip on the map, but those years have made all the difference in the world to him. Finally, he can look back on them now without regrets.

“And so, I came here,” Jack finally says, shifting a little on the bench. He looks oddly guilty, like the times Castiel would find him sneaking snacks back into his room. “I thought...”

“What?’ Castiel prompts, after a few moments when it becomes clear that Jack has no interest in speaking.

“Sam and Dean don’t really need me anymore. I mean, I know that they want me, but the world is bigger now. And the people up here need me too.”

It’s then that Castiel looks around, scrutinizing his environment more closely. The nagging sense of familiarity hits and then he wonders how he didn’t see it before. His favorite Heaven, caught in an eternal Tuesday afternoon.

“It’s not right,” Jack says, his forehead wrinkled into an earnest expression of worry. “The people here are stuck. While I was on earth, we all talked about free will, but the people here don’t have it. They’re stuck forever in an endless loop of memories, and it’s all just...empty.”

Jack looks at Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t see God. He doesn’t see a divine being, or Lucifer’s son, or even an angelic being. He just sees his boy, lost and confused, but still so pure, still wanting to do the right thing, no matter what.

“Cas?” Jack asks. “Will you help me?”

---

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems.

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed.

He does make one stop, however.

When he walks in the door, Kelly’s head lifts up from the book she’s flipping through. Her smile is a balm to the hurt places inside him, the ones that he likes to pretend don’t exist, because he was happy, yes? That was the whole point of everything, was to be happy. “Hey, Cas,” she greets him, shifting over and patting the couch next to her. “I was wondering when you’d be by.”

“I’ve been busy,” Cas says, settling down on the cushions. In Heaven, his body is easier than it was on earth, more flexible, and he wonders if that’s because after all these years, he’s finally returned to where he was supposed to belong, or if it’s because he no longer has the shadow of his love pressing down on his shoulders.

“Jack told me. Rebuilding Heaven? Sounds ambitious.”

“The old Heaven was...not ideal,” Castiel says. “I thought it was at the beginning: each soul gets a paradise tailor made to them. But then, I realized that human life is meaningless without the connections we form along the way. Each soul, stuck forever in its own loop is...”

“It’s lonely,” Kelly says, reaching out and squeezing his hand. Castiel returns the gesture, grateful for the connection. Her eyes are kind as she moves closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his.

“So what happened?”

---

In their time together, Castiel never told Kelly about Dean, at least not explicitly. But she had a brilliant mind and was able to see the threads of his longing woven into everything he did. Relating the story to her comes easily, and he tells her things which he would never tell Jack.

“And I was happy,” Castiel says at the end. “I was.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Neither,” Castiel replies, bristling slightly. It was true that he might have been happier--he had performed a willful obfuscation of the original terms--but that doesn’t negate what he felt in that moment. The sheer love, the overwhelming gratitude, the incandescent happiness of being able, one last time, to proclaim to the world Dean Winchester is Saved.

Everything else is unimportant when viewed through those lenses.

“Why haven’t you gone to see him?” Kelly was always good at cutting to the heart of the problem.

“Dean has his life on earth. I have my work here in Heaven. I don’t...” Because, of course, he’s asked himself the same question many times. Why doesn’t he go find Dean and tell him of one last, improbable miracle?

“Cas, let me tell you: I didn’t know Dean all that well, but I didn’t need to if I wanted to know how he felt about you. It was all over his face.” Kelly turns to face him, suddenly serious. “Cas, you should go to him. At least allow him to speak his side. If he doesn’t feel the same way, then you’ll know. And if he does...”

Castiel shakes his head. Happiness in the being is what he’s told himself ever since he awoke to find himself in Heaven. Happiness doesn’t come from the having. He will live with himself and find contentment in the works which he does.

Kelly looks sympathetic, but doesn’t say anything as he walks out.

There’s work to be done.

---

Castiel sighs with satisfaction as he walks through Heaven. Slowly, the walls are coming down. Souls are mingling and interacting. There’s joy in the once quiet halls, the giddiness which comes from freedom after too long without. He moves through the different realms, silent as a thought, and goes unnoticed, at least until a gruff voice catches his attention.

“What the hell are you doing here, boy?”

A wide grin splits Castiel’s face. Only Bobby Singer would think to call an angel ‘boy’. He walks towards the old hunter, who looks the same now as he did in life, and is surprised when Bobby sweeps him up in a hug which would threaten to crack his ribs, were he human.

“You did good,” Bobby whispers, his voice thick in Castiel’s ear. “I heard what you and that boy Jack did, and you did real good.”

It means more than he would have thought, to have Bobby’s approval. After a moment’s pause, he hugs Bobby back.

When Bobby pulls away, he quickly knuckles his eyes, before clearing his throat. “So, you fixed Heaven on top of everything else? What do you have planned next?”

Castiel’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “There’s always work to be done maintaining Heaven. We don’t know what, if any, effects the restructuring will bring, so I suppose I will be traveling and making sure that everything is stable.”

“If that ain’t a load of shit,” Bobby scoffs. “From what I’ve seen, your boy has enough power in his pinky finger to do just about whatever he wants. Stop making excuses and get your feathery ass back down there.”

Castiel swallows. “It’s not quite as simple as that. Sam and Dean have a chance to live their lives, the way that they would wish for them to be lived. It’s not fair of me to intrude.”

“Now, if that isn’t the biggest pile of horseshit I’ve ever heard.” Bobby’s mouth twists underneath his beard. “Only one thing keeping you from going back down to see those boys, and it sure as hell ain’t concern for Heaven or some BS notion that they’re better off without you.” Castiel opens his mouth, but Bobby speaks over him. “And don’t tell me that you’re just waiting either. Something I learned a long time ago--you never have as much time as you think you do.”

Castiel closes his mouth and says nothing.

---

Bobby is wrong.

There’s still time. He doesn’t have to go yet. There’s still work to be done in Heaven, souls to be guided, walls to be broken. Jack still needs him.

There’s still time.

There’s still time, until there isn’t.

---

Castiel feels it before he knows what’s happening. It’s a rift, a tear, something which ripples throughout the universe and comes to hit him in the chest. He staggers backward, hand clutching at his shirt.

His first thought is that Heaven is under attack, but a second’s observation tells him that’s not the case. Everything is fine. The fabric of Heaven remains secure, the souls are unbothered. It’s only him that feels the blow.

With a flutter of wings, Jack appears beside him. His face is a mask of distress, tears welling in his eyes. “Cas,” he cries, clenching his hands into fists at his side. “Cas, it’s--”

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally understanding the bolt of pain which ripped through him.

It was too soon. He doesn’t know how much time has passed on earth, but he knows it was too soon.

It’s always too soon.

“Cas, what do I... I can heal him. I can go and heal him now. I can save him. I can...” Jack trails off, his feet still pacing in desperate circles. “What do I do?”

It’s a child’s question, and Castiel has no answer.

“Free will,” is all he says. “Whatever you do...It’s your decision.”

---

Castiel feels when Dean Winchester’s soul enters Heaven. He held that soul within his grace, he snatched it away from the filth and flames of Hell. He cradled that soul while he was reassembling Dean’s body, pulling atoms out of air to create skin, flesh, and bone. He would know that soul at the end of everything, and he knows it here, when it settles into the place which was created for him.

It was as perfect as Castiel could make it; down to the Impala sitting in the Roadhouse’s parking lot. He created every inch of Dean’s Heaven in homage, in apology.

It wasn’t fair. Dean deserved to live to a ripe old age. He deserved to enjoy the world for which he fought so hard. He should have grown old, should have found peace, should have discovered the foibles and pitfalls of normal, human existence. Dean worked too hard, for too long, and he deserved a kinder, softer fate. Instead, he’s here, and all Castiel can do for him is to craft his Heaven with painstaking care.

He pauses on the boundaries of Dean’s Heaven. Every fiber of him yearns to go forward, to rejoice in Dean’s presence, to see that beloved face again. He wants it so badly he can almost taste it, leather and gasoline and whiskey mingling together until he’s back in the bunker, listening to the sounds of his family--

Castiel takes a step away from the border. First one, then another. After three steps, it becomes easier.

Dean has his paradise, and Castiel won’t interfere.

---

Heaven moves as it always does, timeless and changeless. There is no turn of the earth to mark the passage of time. Instead, it moves like the ocean, rolling waves which are always moving and yet the surface remains the same. Castiel travels through various Heavens, observing the newly liberated souls, and taking his peace from their newfound enjoyment. It eases something within him to see his former home restored, better than it ever was before.

He’s inspecting a field of sunflowers when the sound of a car door closing surprises him. Immediately, his heart lurches in his chest, dipping down to somewhere around his knees before hurtling upwards to lodge in his throat. He swallows before he turns around.

Dean Winchester is there.

Castiel’s heart, always out of his control, performs a quick dance against the confines of his ribs. Dean looks...He looks whole and wonderful, vibrant and alive. The lines around his eyes look as though they’ve been carved through laughter instead of despair. His shoulders sit easier, no longer pressed down with the burden of the entire world.

Castiel licks his lips. “Hello, Dean,” he finally says, when it becomes obvious that Dean has no intention of making the first move.

Dean’s lips quirk up in a grin. “Cas,” he says, not moving from where he’s leaning up against the frame of the Impala. “You’re a hard guy to track down.”

Layers upon layers of subtext are placed within the seemingly simple sentence. Castiel remembers Purgatory as well as anything else, the desperate year of keeping one step ahead of Leviathans while close enough to Dean to protect him if need be.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says faintly. “I wasn’t aware anyone was looking.”

Dean’s face performs a series of interesting maneuvers, dropping and rising and twisting. It finally settles into an expression like stone as he pushes off the car and storms towards him. Castiel waits, caught up in breathless anticipation of the oncoming storm.

“Look,” Dean growls, reaching out and snagging the lapel of his coat, almost like he wants to ensure that Castiel doesn’t escape. Castiel doesn’t even dream of it; there’s no other place he’d rather be than caught in Dean’s grip. “There was a lot of shit going on at the time, so I didn’t get to say it then, but there’s nothing happening now, so you are going to sit here and listen, all right?”

Castiel nods, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. “I can’t believe you didn’t...” He runs the hand which isn’t still wrapped up in Castiel’s coat over his face. “You idiot,” he finally breathes. “A couple of dumbasses. You’ve had me, Cas. All along, you’ve had me.”

Castiel looks up at Dean in sharp surprise. When he meets Dean’s eyes, there’s nothing but the infinite compassion which he fell in love with. “You... You’re this force of nature that came bursting into my life. All this time, you’ve always been there, always helping, and I took that for granted, I know I did. But, god, Cas, I should have told you every day how thankful I was to have you there with us. I should have let you know what a miracle you are. You never gave up on me, not once, not even when I deserved it.”

Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest as Dean lets go of his coat. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches up to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You never stopped believing. You never stopped trying. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Dean.” The name bursts out of Castiel’s chest in a harsh breath. Dean’s words are working their way underneath his skin, to the point where his body can’t contain them.

“Cas.” Dean gently angles his face up so that there’s no escape when he says, “I love you.”

“I’m sorry,” explodes from Castiel’s chest, the helplessness and grief he felt when he felt Dean’s soul leaving earth erupting in a single quick sob. “Dean, I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I should have done something, I never should have left you alone--”

“Cas.” Dean’s fingers press into his cheek, not hard, but firmly enough to get his attention. “It sucks, all right? There was so much I wanted...” The corner of his mouth drops. “I was going to get you out, and you, me, and Sam were going to head to the beach. I was going to get you drinking out of a coconut, maybe a Hawaiian shirt. We were going to do Christmas, I was going to take you to a theme park and see if you puked on roller coasters. I wanted...” For a moment, grief so overwhelming that it can’t be touched crosses Dean’s face, but then, with effort, he pushes it away. “There’s so much that I wanted, but it’s done now. And besides, you’ve been busy.” Dean raises his eyebrows. The grin on his face invites Cas to smile as well. “Reforming Heaven?”

“I wanted...There was so much I did wrong here. I thought if I could make it right, that maybe...” Castiel leans his cheek into Dean’s hand. “I wanted it to be perfect for you. You weren’t supposed to be here yet.”

“I know. I know. And it’s not okay, but you’re here, all right? Mom’s here, Bobby’s here, Charlie, and Jess, and Kevin, and Ellen and Jo...They’re all here, and thanks to you, I’m going to see them. You did that, Cas.”

“Jack did most of the work--” Castiel begins, but he’s cut off by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his.

Sparks burst in his chest as Dean’s hand slides around to the back of his neck to cradle his head. His other arm slides around his waist, and suddenly, Castiel is held by Dean Winchester, by this miracle of a man. Dean’s kisses consume him, until he’s no longer Castiel. Instead, he’s heat, and friction, and more.

“You and me,” Dean pants against his lips, pulling away just far enough to run his nose along Castiel’s. “We’ve got time now, Cas, we’ve got so much time. I’m going to take you apart, going to show you how much I love you, every single day. I’m going to show you everything.”

Castiel is drowning in the outpouring of Dean’s devotion. He’s helpless in the riptides. All he can do to save himself is kiss Dean again, tasting salt on their lips from where their tears trace down to their lips. Castiel cries partly for Dean’s missed opportunities and the fact that life is so cruel. But he also cries from happiness. Dean is right. Here, they have all the time they could ever want. There’s time to explore every feeling and desire, time for them to become themselves, without the pressure of the world around them.

They part. Somehow, Castiel’s hands have found their way onto Dean’s waist. One of his thumbs is braver than the rest of his whole body, as it sneaks underneath Dean’s shirt to touch bare skin. Dean grins at him.

“Hey, Cas,” he asks, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Do you want to take a drive?”

Their fingers entwine as they walk towards the Impala. Castiel’s chest feels light, like Dean’s hand is the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. “I’m still trying to figure out the roads here. It felt like I was driving around for forty years to try and find you.”

They settle into the Impala, where they’ve been so many times before, but now Castiel can enjoy every squeak of the leather seats. He can revel in the imperfections of the car because of the perfection that’s next to him. Dean Winchester reaches across the seat and takes his hand, as easy as breathing.

“I can’t wait to show Sam everything,” Dean says, as he guides the Impala back onto a road which Castiel is almost certain wasn’t there when he arrived. “I, uh...Hope it takes him a while to get here. But. Yeah, when he gets here, I can’t wait to show him everything.”

“We’ll see it all together,” Castiel finally says. It’s all he can say, his heart too busy dancing in his chest.

They have all the time they want.

---

Time slips and passes and stops. In between his time with Dean, Jack, and the rest of the residents of Heaven, and performing maintenance throughout Heaven, Castiel watches the earth. He sees those left behind grow older. Claire and Kaia start a family, Claire finally having set aside the kernel of anger in her heart. Castiel watches Sam and Eileen’s family grow, smiling when Sam finally goes back to law school and gets his degree. He spends the rest of his career fighting for justice for children lost in the system, those who can’t fight for themselves. Saving people, hunting things, indeed.

Several times, Castiel thinks about going to visit Sam, if only to assuage the grief he can still see the man carrying, but each time he stops. It hurts, but grief is a facet of life. This grief is natural. It comes honestly. It’s not manipulated by a sadistic higher being for a voyeristic pleasure.

Eileen comes out to the Impala and brings Sam back into the house with gentle touches. Throughout the years, she’s learned how to navigate Sam’s moods, and knows how to bring him back. They lay in bed, foreheads pressed together, Eileen’s body curved into Sam’s.

“I just,” Sam begins, twisting slightly so Eileen can read his lips, “I just miss him so much sometimes.”

“I know,” Eileen answers. It’s all she needs to say.

After a while, Sam gently wraps his fingers around Eileen’s wrist, partly for comfort, partly to grab her attention. “Dean’s baseball game is next weekend. Do we know yet if it’s going to conflict with Beth’s dance rehearsal?”

“It shouldn’t,” Eileen answers, and with that, the normal routine of their life is reestablished. The grief is always present, but it’s part of the human condition.

Castiel turns his eyes back to Heaven, where Dean waits for him. Despite it being Heaven, he insists on making repairs to Bobby’s house as well as the Roadhouse, even when Castiel reminds him, for the hundredth time, that if he truly wanted to, he could fix these imperfections with a thought.

“Sometimes, you just have to do things the hard way,” he answers, through a mouthful of nails.

Castiel rolls his eyes and goes to help him.

---

The morning dawns, quiet and gentle. The dawn is silvery-gold as it stretches across the grass leading up to the cabin. In the distance, the birds start singing. Castiel can smell the fresh scents of spring, dew clinging to the grass, the clean, bright potential in the air. His toes stick out from underneath the comforter, but a quick flip of his foot flicks the corner of the blanket back into place.

A warm, heavy arm winds over his waist. “Babe, it’s too early,” Dean mumbles into the nape of his neck. “Go back to sleep.”

Castiel strokes over the back of Dean’s hand. The words are tempting, but something has woken him up, and now that it has, he wants to know what it is. He props himself up on his elbows, ignoring the chill of the air as it bites at his bare skin, and concentrates. After a second, he startles.

“Dean,” he says.

Though he doesn’t put urgency or fear into his voice, something about his tone makes Dean open his eyes, suddenly alert. Castiel looks at him, and Dean rolls over onto his side. After their time together, they’ve mastered the art of the wordless conversation, much to the chagrin of Charlie, Kevin, and anyone within ten miles of them, at least according to Jo.

“It’s time?” Dean asks. He rolls closer to Castiel, stealing his warmth, as he trails his fingers over Castiel’s ribs.

“Yes,” Castiel answers, taking Dean’s hand in his and pressing kisses to each of Dean’s fingertips. “Won’t be long now.”

Dean’s fingers slide across his cheek before he curls his fingers around the bolt of Castiel’s jaw, pulling him down. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss which still manages to make fireworks explode in the pit of Castiel’s belly. He doesn’t think the thrill of kissing Dean will ever fade. Castiel doesn’t want it to.

“I should get going,” Dean murmurs, rubbing against the bristles on Castiel’s cheek. “You want to come along?”

Castiel relaxes back into the mattress, only reluctantly parting from Dean. “No, you go. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I know.” Dean slides out of bed, and Castiel takes a moment to appreciate the play of his muscles underneath fair skin. He lets out a small, disappointed noise when Dean slides into a pair of jeans and a jacket, causing Dean to roll his eyes at him over his shoulders. “Yeah, keep it in your pants. Definitely wearing clothes to this particular meeting.”

“Shame,” Castiel murmurs, waggling his eyebrows.

“Shameless,” Dean corrects, leaning over the mattress to kiss Castiel once more, short and sweet. “We’ll be back before too long.” Another kiss to Castiel’s forehead, and then Dean murmurs, “I love you,” into his hair.

Castiel smiles. Much like kissing Dean, hearing those words will never grow old to him. He’ll revel in them, roll in the simple syllables, allow them to sink into him, with the simple truth that Jack tells him, that Charlie tells him, that Kelly tells him, that even Bobby and Ellen and Jo tell him.

You are valued. You are loved.

He smiles at Dean Winchester, this impossible, miracle of a man. “I love you too,” he replies.

Dean out of the bedroom. The door to the cabin opens and closes. Castiel rolls over onto his back and stretches, staring up at the ceiling.

There’s work to be done today. He’ll need to travel through Heaven, informing the various interested parties that Sam Winchester has arrived. There will be a party tonight at the Roadhouse, a celebration instead of mourning. Then he and Dean will get to show Sam their Heaven, will listen to Sam relate through his years.

There is so much work to do.

But they have time. They have all the time they need.

---

“Life never ends when you are in it.”--Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The General Epilogue: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Some goodbyes are simply “See you later!”

wc: 1.3k

tw: none!

masterlist

“Yuji, let me see what you have!” Yuta calls out, watching the six year old with caution as he runs around the fountain behind Nobara and Megumi, who appear to be terrified.

“A knife!” Yuji cries out, and Yuta takes off after the child, screaming,

“No!”

You watch the unfolding scene with mirth, holding your swollen stomach with one hand and the other pressed to your mouth as you laugh heartily. Kaori, who is setting tea before you, shakes her head and sighs.

“Empress, you really should consider not letting Satoru watch the children alone. They come back with things no child should have and… stories.”

“Kaori, you speak of your own husband like he’s incapable of being a father-figure,” you reply, and Kaori shrugs, her long braid sliding over her shoulder.

“He’s the fun uncle who has minimal privileges. I’m not sure we’ll ever have children because--”

“I’m not infertile, if that’s what you’re implying,” Gojo mutters, sliding past the door that leads outside to where you two are sitting. Suguru follows him, hands massaging the temples of his forehead. At the sight of your husband, you hold a hand out to him, beckoning him closer. Suguru obliges, a smile splitting his face at the sight of you resting with his child in your belly. It only takes a minute, but when he sits behind you, you lean into his frame and sigh contently.

“How are you feeling?” Geto murmurs in your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple and rubbing your stomach in slow circles.

“I feel fine; how was the meeting with the heads of--”

“Terrible,” Satoru replies for him, rolling his blue eyes and groaning. “I’ve never been so bored in my entire life. All they talk about is what land they have rights to, where their children will settle, heir naming, blah, blah, blah.” Gojo sits next to Kaori, chin resting on his hand.

“You act as if you didn’t want this position,” Geto retorts and his friend sighs exaggeratedly, laying his head in Kaori’s lap. There’s a strong kick from inside of your belly against Suguru’s hand, and you chuckle while he hums happily, feeling the heel of your child sink back into its place.

“There are a lot of positions I want,” Gojo grumbles back. “But this wasn’t something I signed up for. I wanted to be a general of an army, not listening to old geezers talk about stuff that has nothing to do with me.”

Haibara appears with Yuji and Junpei in tow, holding his hand as Yuta stresses the importance of the pink-haired child needing a “buddy at all times”, citing the earlier knife incident as proof. Haibara nods repeatedly to his superior, and you can see Nanami’s slim figure by a tree, consoling the other two terrified children.

And before long, there would be one more child to add to the bunch.

“This is heaven,” Geto whispers behind you, and you nod, fully agreeing. “You know,” he begins, shifting a little. “I can’t imagine life with you.”

“Oh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow and looking up at him curiously.

“It’s true.” You crane your head up to accept a sweet kiss from Emperor Geto, and as you pull away, he whispers, “In every lifetime, I know I’ll find you. Just wait for me, okay?”

“I will,” you promise, a smile dancing across your lips. “Every single time, I’ll wait for you.”

_______________________________________________________________________

2006 A.D.

You grip the strap of your blue backpack tightly, looking at Jujutsu Tech with wary eyes. You’d been recruited, but that didn’t mean much in the end. You could fail and leave Tokyo just like you came: as an inexperienced young woman who had very little except a particularly useful ability to exorcise curses. Nothing special.

When you walk onto campus, you eye the other students with varying degrees of interest. There are quite a few, you note, but no one looks like they would know where you had to go.

“Hey,” a voice shouts out over your left shoulder. You turn to look at the person who spoke, and a white haired man with sunglasses and a black uniform - like yours - is waving at you excitedly. “Are you the new student?” You consider lying to him - because, who is he? - but you figure if he knows you’re brand new here, he might have more knowledge about the other things at this school. Like where the best hiding spot is.

“Yeah, my name is y/n.” The man huffs a breath, smiling as he sticks out a hand.

“Gojo Satoru.” You take it and shake it willingly, and a jolt of lightning bursts through your veins when you touch. Immediately, you snatch your hand back, and the man does the same, frowning and shaking his fingers.

“Should’ve used infinity,” he grumbles, but you’re looking over his shoulder at the two other approaching, and not listening to his complaints.

Behind him, a short girl with chopped brown hair and a tall man with black hair are talking, obviously intent on joining their friend in front of you, dressed in the same black colored outfits.

“Shoko, come meet your new best friend,” Gojo calls out and the woman’s eyes slide to you, before she scrunches up her brows.

“New student?” she inquires, and you nod your head, holding the strap of your backpack even tighter.

“Hey, you look familiar,” You feel the pang of recognition as you look upon the face of the balck haired man who spoke, but you’re sure you’ve never met the man in person before. Maybe you saw him in passing somewhere? “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before? Maybe at the train station?” He places a hand on his chin, thinking deeply as his onyx eyes roam over you. A tingle runs down your spine, but you shake your head.

“No, I don’t come from Tokyo,” you clarify, but that doesn’t stop the feeling of something nagging at your brain. You’ve met him before, the voice inside of you affirms, but you brush the noise aside and focus in on the other two.

“I’m y/n, pleasure to meet you.” You shake Shoko’s hand, and then the other man’s hand firmly, but you find yourself holding onto his fingers for longer than you really should have.

“Shoko Ieiri.”

“Geto Suguru.”

Just wait for me, okay? You hear those words as clear as day, and you see his expression change just a little too, but then it all goes away when Gojo speaks up.

“You know, y/n, you seem cool. Want to join us when we go see the cherry blossoms this weekend?”

“That sounds like fun,” you chime in, and you look around. “But I need to find the principal first.” Gojo and Shoko grimace, looking at each other.

“Uh, we both have this thing to do… Geto can take you!” The other two disappear into the background and you look at the raven-haired man cautiously.

“Well, I suppose you should be glad I found you. Those two never seem to want to be helpful when it’s really needed.” Geto waves you along, looking over his shoulder as you stand on the walkway, staring after him with the nagging feeling growing more and more pronounced. “Hey, you don’t need to wait anymore,” he laughs, waving you along again with a wide smile.

“I guess I’m a little worried,” you reply, looking down at your shoes nervously as you walk alongside him.

“Nah, don’t be. I’ll be right there with you. The principal won’t do much except talk, then we can catch up with the others later.” Without warning, you feel at ease speaking to this man, and you look over at him, catching his tender gaze. “Gosh, I swear I’ve seen you before.”

“I don’t know,” you laugh. “Maybe we knew each other in a past life?” Geto laughs heartily, shoulders shaking while he puts his hands in his pockets.

“Maybe… maybe...”

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover @jotazinha @just4readingfics @mxhi @sammytamaki @brownskinnedgirll @keelyshayee @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something

#jujutsu kaisen getou #geto x reader #jjk geto #gojo satoru #jjk haibara #jujutsu kaisen #getou x reader #getou suguru #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #nanami kento #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #megumi fushiguro #yuta okkotsu

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cuquitalocita · 3 years

Text

i love you yeah yeah yeah |rowaelin month- day 3|

rowaelin masterlist

an: i’m not gonna lie, i had so so much fun writing this one! i’m a tennis player and my sister is as well, therefore why i know so much about the junior pro league. for those of you who don’t know, the orange bowl is an actual tournament played internationally for juniors and i’m ranting wow so anyway i hope this isn’t too tennis vocab-y :)

word count: 3,876

It’s the final two days before competition at the International Orange Bowl this year being held in Terrasen and it’s no surprise that tensions between players and academies are more than high. We’re so glad to be here for yet another year of thrilling competition in which the winners will automatically be placed into the first round of the U.S. Open. I, for one, and more than excited to see some new teen faces this year, what about you, Gavriel?

You know Cairn, I completely agree and as someone from Terrasen, you must be more than excited to see some friendly competition on your home turf.

Oh, I sure am excited, but I don’t know if you’d call this competition exactly ‘friendly.’ For those of you unaware, the rivalry between the TAT (Tennis Academy of Terrasen) and the DTC (Doranelle Tennis Center) has been going on for close to ten years now, beginning all the way back to when founders Maeve Vesta and Evalin Galathynius were in college, rivals through and through. Now adults, their children carry on their competitive legacy, taking the nation by storm. If you see the final match of any tournament, you can bet your money it’s a Doranelle kid and a Terrasen kid.

The stakes sure are high during this tournament, as it isn’t closed, like the academies’ usual ones. Instead, anyone player eighteen years old and younger with the qualifying points was eligible to register. I’m looking forward to seeing some new faces this year.

Me too, but you can never go wrong with the usual suspects. This year, my money is on eighteen year- old Rowan Whitethorn from Doranelle, ranked second in the country, in the men’s finals. As Maeve’s nephew, Rowan has been put in the spotlight for most of his life, not to mention taking a clear leadership role among the DTC alongside Lorcan Salvaterre.

That’s a good point, Gavriel, in the past years Rowan has made it to at least the quarter-finals but has always lost before he can truly do. I have a feeling the kid has a lot more in him. And as for the women, I wouldn’t be too surprised to see the Terrasen seventeen year- old cruising through a few rounds before her tough competition starts. We can’t expect anything less than Evalin Galathynius’ daughter, right?

I for one, am more than excited for pre- first-round interviews. It’s always quite interesting to see each players’ mindset before they set out for blood.

“What do you think our favorite golden girl has in store for us this year, Gavriel? Something tells me she’s a little more than annoyed given what happened at the finals of the last international tournament held in Terassen when Remelle Frost from the Doranelle academy beat her in what was the biggest upset of the season.”

Aelin rolled her eyes and glared at the back of her mother’s seat, the woman in question frowning as the annoying voice of Cairn Rossa rang through the rental car. She reached forward to turn the station off just as Gavriel’s voice rang out once more.

“Let’s not beat around the bush here, Cairn,” the older man was responding. “I’ve been doing this just a bit longer than you enough to know when a player isn’t themselves. One loss isn’t the definition of a player the same way one win isn’t either. I suggest both teams- including Aelin and Remelle themselves- step onto the court, and play.”

Aelin let out a satisfied huff. She knew she had always liked Gavriel. Aelin liked that the man looked at the players as more than just players in a video game or statistics on a screen. As a former player himself, Aelin knew the man understood the game in and out and was more than qualified to report during the national tournaments, no matter where he was born and what side he was essentially placed on.

The station was snapped off as her mother’s finger found the correct button, earning an annoyed glare from the Uber driver next to her that she promptly ignored in favor of turning back to her daughter, opening her mouth to say something. Aelin’s own eyes stared back at her before shifting down to the phone she held in her hand. It had just buzzed signaling a new notification that had her mother lifting her brows.

Aelin immediately shifted forward in an attempt to look over her mother’s should before her hand was on her face, batting her daughter away with a motherly ‘leave me alone’ look. She relented, leaning back into her seat with slumped shoulders. Finally, her mother huffed but remained with her back facing Aelin.

She knew it was different this year, she could practically feel it in the air. Without her father with the two women in the car, the tournament atmosphere was a different universe.

It was getting dark outside, the sun setting behind them as they drove through the dazzling city. The car came to an abrupt stop in front of the hotel that sent Aelin jerking out of her own thoughts. Her mother turned back to her with a sad knowing smile and patted her daughter’s knee.

“We’re here. Try to get some sleep- you have a long day tomorrow.”

“What’s the plan for today?” Aelin asked her mother around a mouthful of bagel the next morning. It wasn’t every day the founder of the University came to watch her players in a tournament, but whoever won this won would be fed into the first round of an official professional tournament. It would be amazing PR for the academy, Aelin knew, but she also knew her mother felt bad that her father had escorted Aelin to all of her tournaments in prior years. And now that he wasn’t here anymore…

“Eat up- after you’re done I’ve reserved three courts at the complex and we’ll get together with everyone.” ‘Everyone’ being every other players from the academy who had enough points to enter the qualifiers. Not all of them were as highly ranked as Aelin, but she found it helpful to train with them all the same. They were her friends. “We do need to pick Lysandra up from the airport first though,” she said as she frowned at her phone. “Her flight was supposed to have landed a few minutes ago but she hasn’t reached out…”

Aelin rolled her eyes at her mother, she always did have a thing with protectiveness over her best friend.

“Mom, don’t worry about it,” Aelin assured her. “Aed said he would pick her up and then meet us at the courts. I wouldn’t want to be in that car if I were you.” She faked a gag, causing her mother to laugh.

“Alright then. Eat, find your rackets, and take the rental to the courts. It was just delivered this morning. I have some business to finish here at the hotel.” She left Aelin with a kiss to the head.

It didn’t take long for Aelin to pull up to the familiar yet daunting tennis complex bigger than even the academy, and she pushed the car into park, simply staring for a moment.

This was it.

Three years she had come close to winning as the youngest person in history. So close. But this was the year. This was her year. She could do this. She would do this.

And so Aelin Galathynius pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin as she grabbed her massive tennis bag from the trunk and slung it over her shoulders. The weight was heavy and familiar as she walked through the glass double doors and to the front desk, only to halt in her tracks when she came face to face with a familiar head of silver hair.

Rowan Whitethorn.

She had quite often mused about how unfair it was that her essential biggest rival was so attractive. It didn’t really make hating him very fair, now did it? But there he stood, green eyes shining and teeth flashing as he snapped something at the young man at the desk. The poor boy looked ready to pee himself and Aelin couldn’t help but release a sharp laugh, causing both Rowan and the blonde next to him to whip around.

Aelin watched as Rowan’s eyes sparked and his mouth curved into a sneer as he took her in from head to toe. She forced herself still and kept her eyes on his face. It was all she could do. Rowan opened his mouth and Aelin prepared her hackles to rise instantly.

“Aelin. Good to see you here.” But it wasn’t Rowan who spoke. No, it was Remelle Frost, her least favorite bottle blonde on the planet that spoke as she curled a possessive hand over Rowan’s bicep. Aelin simply rolled her eyes, never one to beat around the bush. It was common knowledge that the blondes didn’t like each other. And after the Adarlan tournament, Aelin wouldn’t hide her disdain for the girl.

“Wish I could say the same,” she replied dismissively as she shouldered past Rowan and made for the front desk. One charming smile and the boy seemed to handle her much better than Rowan. She gave him her mother’s name, him quickly nodding a confirmation and giving her the court numbers, saying they would be available in just a moment.

She turned around, unsurprised to see Rowan glaring at the back of her head. It had been almost eight years of this rivalry. At least for them. Aelin thought it might’ve been a little ridiculous, considering that it started with her mother and his aunt, but the Doranelle kids just made it so easy to hate them. So easy to want to pound them on and off the court. She wouldn’t apologize for the adrenaline the rivalry provided her with.

Aelin smirked, cocking her hip. “Like what you see?”

“Hardly,” he growled. “Just wondering whether or not you actually came to play this time.”

Aelin recognized the comment for what it was- a direct jab to the last tournament where she had lost to Remelle. If the comment hadn’t pissed her off so much she would’ve recognized the compliment for what it was.

“Well, that depends which game you’re talking about, Whitethorn.” Her voice was just teasing enough to annoy him once more, and Aelin’s grin grew.

“Don’t you have a court to go find?” Remelle cut in from beside Rowan, who had distanced himself from her. Aelin didn’t blame him. She wanted to do the same thing.

“And here I was enjoying our little chat. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, mar sin leat.”

“This isn’t Terrasen,” Remelle hissed. “We say ‘good luck’ here. Gods, you Terrasen kids are pieces of-”

Someone caught her by the waist as Aelin attempted to throw herself at the girl and she was soon spun around in their arms, coming face to face with her own eyes. Aedion’s were flashing too as his eyes were fixed behind her, no doubt at Rowan.

“Leave it, Ace, it’s not worth it.”

“It’s true, princess,” Rowan finally spoke with a sneer. “You’re gonna need those pretty little hands tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to have an excuse when you get your ass kicked.”

“Oh, I’ll show you-”

Aedion dragged her away before she could get another word out, her fists clenched and her teeth bared. She shoved him when he put her down.

“Fucking Doranelle,” Aedion spat under his breath as he shook his head.

He merely gestured to a figure behind her, causing Aelin to whip around with wide eyes. Shit. Duke Perrington grinned at her through the snake-eyed lens of his camera and gave her a tiny wave as she bared her teeth at him

Perfect. Now it would look like Terrasen had begun a fight before the tournament even began.

Her mother was going to kill her.

Aelin felt like the stadium had never been bigger. She had known this year she would be playing where the professionals themselves did, including Maeve and her mother, but never in a million years had it looked so daunting or made her feel so small.

The tournament had been, well needless to say, easy for Aelin so far. She had breezed through her first few matches, absolutely destroying the poor girls, and her third had been straight sets as well. But now it was the semis. And she would have to face Remelle on center court. It seemed the gods liked playing jokes on Aelin Galathynius.

She could feel every pair of eyes snap to hers the moment she stepped onto the court but she looked forward. Maybe she was a crowd favorite- but that would do her no favors in the upcoming match. Aelin thought she was going to hurl all over her new shoes and she let the deafening cheering of the audience cover the sound of her pounding heart.

Remelle walked in not long after she and Aelin met her in the middle of the court, racket in hand. Showtime.

Aelin might have been paying attention when the coin had been flipped, might have been minimally involved when she called heads or when she won the call and opted to serve first. She might have been only slightly aware of her surroundings as she took a small sip of her water and walked to the back of the court.

And then it was movement.

It was backward and forwards, side to side, low and high, and it was the same dance Aelin knew better than anything. The same feeling in her feet when she sprinted to the ball and the same stretch of muscles when she reached for a shot. This was who she was- this was the pattern she had lived for ten years.

But it didn’t seem to matter, not as the score continued to tip less and less in her favor with every passing point. She was playing well- but Remelle was playing better. And there was nothing Aelin could do but survive and ignore the satisfied smirks the other girl would throw her during their side changes.

Think, Aelin, think.

Nothing was coming to her head. All she could hear was the pounding adrenaline through her body telling her to play. To cross each bridge when she came to it. There was nothing more she could do than play.

It was then, when Aelin threw herself at a particularly difficult ball, that she felt something shift. And she knew she was screwed.

Aelin was a tennis player- she had rolled her ankle before. But this was different. It had never hurt this bad. And as the rest of her body came down with her ankle, she thought that it could be it. That it was the end of the match all due to a stupid ankle injury.

With her heart in her throat, Aelin signaled to the red- headed umpire.

Injury, she mouthed to her, and the woman- Ansel, it seemed her name was- simply nodded. She was in the massive locker room without a second thought, dragging out a spare bucket of ice held in one of the corners of the room and shoved her foot it. Might as well get it over with.

Aelin winced as the ice on her foot began to take effect and her muscles began to ache, her breathing beginning to lose its consistency. Gods, she hated this. She hated the useless feeling that came over her at the thought of possibly being unable to finish the match. At the thought of all the people, she would be letting down.

She was tired. Aelin was so, so tired.

Gods, she just needed-

The door to the locker room burst open with a loud and abrupt clang, causing Aelin to jerk forward, spilling water on the ground as she opened her mouth. She was ready to tell them that she needed some privacy before her eyes locked onto a familiar figure that sent her heart pounding for a different reason.

“Rowan, you can’t be in here!”

The hulking boy ignored her protests, striding over her in no more than a few steps, both of his hands immediately going to the base of her neck to search her gaze with his own worried one, clearly not caring that he was in the girl’s locker room and would be kicked out of the tournament if he was found.

“Are you alright?” he insisted, his voice low and hoarse, forest eyes intense.

The gentleness in which he touched her had Aelin sighing and her hands reached up to lightly take hold of his wrists, bringing them down and gathering them in her own hands to hold to her chest.

She hadn’t meant to fall for Rowan Whitethorn.

But like everything in her life, it had happened quickly and unexpectedly, and Aelin had dealt with it head-on. It had been a year now. An entire year of playing tournaments in each other’s home’s just so they could see each other. Just so no suspicion was be aroused by the tabloids.

And Aelin hated it.

All she wanted to do was be able to link her hand through Rowan’s in public without causing a public scandal about a decade-long rivalry.

“I’m okay, you fussy buzzard,” she teased as she looked at him, pleased to see when the frown on his lips twitched the slightest bit upward. “It was just a little fall. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

But because he knew her so well, he had heard the uncertainty and fear in her voice as she spoke. So saying nothing, he pulled Aelin to his chest and allowed his arms to wrap around her completely, enveloping her in the scent that she had considered home for months.

And as she breathed him in, she wished home wasn’t always so godsdamned far.

Rowan let her breathe shakily into his chest, constantly running a soothing hand up and down her back as he hummed a small melody that he often did to get her to sleep over the phone at night. Aelin was the first person to admit it was much better in person.

“You don’t have to do it, Aelin,” he said finally, his movements never ceasing. “You don’t owe them anything.”

She knew who he was referring to of course, of the people who had come to watch the new ‘upcoming star’ in action and were expecting to see quite the show. They were the people Aelin had been trained to want to impress.

Aelin pulled back to tilt her chin up and look him in the eyes.

“I can’t just quit, Rowan. I won’t.”

“You have nothing to prove, Fireheart.” And Aelin almost broke as he used the nickname her father had. “Not to anyone.”

She shook her head, helplessness seeping through her body more and more as she looked at the boy in front of her. The pain in her ankle was even worse now. Unsurprisingly, he noticed, and his calloused hands moved to her wrists as he lead her back over to the bucket of ice water.

He kneeled down in front of the bench as she sat down and placed her foot in the water, wincing along with her even after she threw a glare at him.

I don’t see you with a foot in ice.

Seeing you in pain is enough to hurt me, his eyes gazed back playfully. Aelin rolled her eyes, quickly shutting them as another shock of pain rushed through her body, making her inhale sharply.

Her boyfriend frowned once more, clearly upset he could do nothing to help her. So he gathered her hands in his own, bringing them to his face to place a gentle kiss on them, pulling an unwitting smile from Aelin.

“I love you,” she said quietly. Rowan met her soft gaze for a moment before Aelin leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers in a kiss she hoped said everything she couldn’t. Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you. I wish we weren’t a secret.

“I love you too, Fireheart.”

She would never get sick of hearing him say that. Of hearing the utter truth in his words.

Rowan was watching her with that adoring look he reserved only for her, his face open so she could see every emotion playing across his face. It only made her want to kiss him again.

So she did, although this time he met her halfway, taking her chin lightly between two fingers and tilting it up so he could kiss her thoroughly as her hands rested at the base of his neck, lightly twirling the pieces of soft hair she found there.

They sat there for a while, simply kissing, enjoying the feeling of each other’s lips and proximity when it was so few and far between, and Aelin relished in the feeling of loving someone who loved her back. In the feeling of not having to act.

When she accidentally tugged at a knot in his hair, Rowan pulled away with a painful groan and a nip to her bottom lip, causing Aelin to laugh and push his cheek away with two fingers.

“Sorry, Buzzard,” she laughed as Rowan stood up, with a playful glare. He folded his arms in front of him and it was only then that Aelin remembered she had a foot inside of a bucket of ice. And her medical time out was running out. “Shit. I have to go.”

Aelin jumped into action, taking her foot out of the ice with a hiss and grabbing a towel as Rowan maneuvered himself around her to find her shoes and socks. Apparently he had understood her message loud and clear about her intentions on forfeiting the match or not- he wasn’t stupid enough to argue with her.

Quickly enough, Aelin was good as new- well, as new as she could be with a half swollen ankle.

“Well,” she dropped her arms to her sides and turned to her boyfriend. “How do I look?”

“Like an idiot who shouldn’t be playing.”

“Or…?” she arched a brow. Rowan sighed and stepped toward her, his hands bracing both of her arms as he leaned forward to press an earnest kiss to her forehead.

“Or Terrasen’s champion,” he murmured against her skin.

Aelin grinned, a wicked and feral smile that meant she was ready to raise hell.

“Now that’s more like it.”

If someone had asked Aelin to regale the crowd with details of her match after she had come out victorious, she would have been unable to do so. Because all she remembered was the pounding of her feet on the ground, and the neon color of the tennis ball, and the feeling of her heart palpitating in her chest.

Oh, and of course she couldn’t forget the moment after her match- winning shot, when every care and inhibition had left her in one foul swoop. When she had sprinted over to the stands and thrown herself into the arms of the silver- haired enemy, delighting in his deep laughter..

And kissed him in the middle of the stadium for all to see.

this prompt was: secret dating

taglist:

@story-scribbler

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame

#aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #aelin #rowan #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #rowaelin modern au #tog #sjm #throne of glass #rowaelin month

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

Little Witch - Part 16

The Darkling x Reader

'It's work-related Baghra, I'm not here because I miss you'

'Then get to it.' She snapped and walked around you, settling in her seat by the fire.

'How is Alina getting along?'

'Like a wounded animal' You sighed. As much as you hated the woman, she had a knack for training Grisha and always succeeded so this wasn't good.

'How bad is it?'

'She can't light a doorway on her own without Aleksander clutching her wrist.'

'Surely she's not that weak. Maybe you're just losing your touch'

'Get out.' She snapped.

'The Fete is 2 weeks away, it would do you well to make sure she doesn't embarrass herself' You let a subtle threat slip into your words but in reality, you couldn't touch Baghra, Aleksander forbade it himself.

'Or else what? You'll wrap my own shadows around my neck and wring me to death?'

'Perhaps.'

'Foolish girl. You have a pretty face but deep down you are uglier than the Black Heretic himself.' Baghra always seemed to have a paramount of new insult ready to throw your way.

'Well isn't it lucky that I share a bed with him'

'You are absurd'

'Only the best of us are.' With that, you left the blistering heat and made your way back into the palace, your mind drifting back to your first ever encounter with Baghra.

----

'You'll train with Baghra' General Kirigan said as you awkwardly stood in your lavish suite, feeling the ill-fitting Tidemaker kefta weighing heavily on your shoulders.

'I can fight already there's no need' You didn't want to be here, you wanted to go back to your regiment in the First-Army and sleep on an uncomfortable cot surrounded by your friends. The Palace reminded you too much of your old family home to the point of it making you uneasy.

'Not that kind of training' As handsome as the General was, you didn't let yourself succumb to his looks or that faint smile, even if it did erupt small butterflies in your body. Don't trust him.

'Do I have to wear this coat?' It was the first time you'd put it on and although it was very well made, you didn't think it suited you.

'That's your uniform from now on I'm afraid.' He gestured to his own black kefta. It was magnificent.

At the time, you hadn't yet known you could possess more than one Grisha power, but that was about to change really soon as he led you down the narrow steps leading to a hut.

It was nestled deep in the Palace gardens, and you longed for the same privacy. It wasn't anything like the Little Palace with its dull exterior and homely interior. But the heat, oh the heat, it was scalding. You fiddled with the kefta belt and buttons, tugging the thick coat off of you as you looked around, awaiting the woman the General referred to as Baghra.

'Hello?' You folded the blue coat over the back of a chair, feeling too awkward to sit down.

'You must be the Elemental, child you stick out like a sore thumb' An old woman appeared in the doorway. Her hair was graying and her clothes looked worn.

'An- wha- elemental?' You tested the words on your tongue, were you not a Grisha?

'Sit.' You did as you were told as she sat opposite you, leaning forward and having a good look at you.

'I've only ever met one of you, you're very rare'

'What am I' The urgency in your voice was strong.

'You take powers from other Grisha. You don't have any of your own.'

'So I'm not a Grisha. Why am I here then?' You scoffed.

'Just because you can't conjure up on your own doesn't mean you are not Grisha'

'I don't want to be here.'

'You've made that quite obvious.'

The room stilled as you thought about which questions to ask next.

'Is it hereditary?'

'Most likely. One doesn't don't know they are an Elemental until they touch a Grisha who is conjuring, hence why you're so rare. There's no test for it.'

'I don't fit in'

'No. You don't.' At least the old woman agreed. 'But don't let that be the reason you flock to change. There are those out there that would kill to have you in their ranks.' She eyed you again, a hidden meaning in her words that you couldn't decipher.

'I can be more than just a Tidemaker?'

'You can be much more, but only if you know how to control it.' She gripped your wrist suddenly, and a weird feeling spread through you, much like the one when General Kirigan touched you. It was like a rush of calm and surety.

'You have potential, a lot of it.'

'How are you going to train me if you've only ever known one of me?' You didn't mean to sound as harsh as you did, but you were growing impatient.

'Grisha science is simple child, even for those who come from Merzost.'

'Merzost?'

'Maybe in due time, Y/N. Maybe then I'll explain.'

-----

She never explained it, never mentioned it to Aleksander, never taught you properly. She held you back constantly and consistently. It was only when you left and almost died did you learn the true reason behind your kind and it still made you apprehensive.

You had yet to dabble in Merzost yourself even though your whole being came from it. You had felt drawn to it sure, but you understood that there was always a price to pay. Like Aleksander with the Fold, or Ilya when he created the amplifiers. You weren't willing to satisfy that silent thirst just yet if it meant sacrificing something dear to you.

The Palace was swimming in life right now despite the brutally cold air. The children had just finished school for the day and were running around playing in the snow while the Summoners were practicing on their grounds. It was nice to hear their laughs and content conversations, a stark contrast to the life you led a mere month ago.

The Little Palace wasn't perfect, but it was the sanctuary Grisha needed and you took pride in the fact that you helped achieve that. Aleksander may have done the bulk of the work, but you put blood, sweat and tears into ensuring that all kinds of Grisha felt safe in Ravka.

You watched as the young Tidemakers used all their might to break through the thick layers of ice on the lake. They worked in unison and in silence as the water shot up and behaved as if it were their puppet and they controlled the strings.

'Reminiscing?' Aleksander appeared at your side in his dramatic black cape.

'When I first came to the Palace, I truly thought I would be stuck as a Tidemaker forever' You laughed at your childish insolence.

'What's so wrong with being a Tidemaker?'

'Hmmm, maybe the fact that East Ravka is land-locked?'

'We have a lake' He pointed out with an amused grin. 'How is Alina?' He changed the topic.

'Your mother is doubtful'

'Isn't she always' His eyebrow raised in a sign of annoyance.

'Claims Alina cannot do anything without an amplifier by her side.'

'She's holding back.'

'Alina or Baghra?'

'Both.' You turned away from him, returning your gaze to the Tidemakers.

'You think she's up to something?'

'When is she not up to something, I fear your return has made her antsy.' You couldn't help but let out a giggle.

'Baghra is unnerved by me, my life goal is complete.'

'She thinks you corrupt me.'

'Does she know it is the other way around?' You mused and took hold of his hand, the action hidden behind his cape.

'I'm offended Ms.Y/L/N. I was under the impression we are both as bad as the other.' He squeezed your hand back, the cool silver ring pressing against your skin. You shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a cape.

'I think I have to go back in' You said as you watched your breath leave in a cloud of fog.

'I think that's best.' He gave your hand one last tight squeeze and let go, leaving a brief kiss against your temple. You watched the elegant sway of the black material as he made his way to Baghra's hut.

You ran back to the warmth of the indoors and requested a food tray be brought back to your chambers while you dealt with stationing new Grisha around the camps. It was tedious and boring but once you got this done, the rest of the day was yours to do whatever you wished. The library was calling your name, but so was the banya. You had spent so much time in the Little Palace covered in mounds of work you completely forgot to enjoy yourself.

As you signed the last station order, you leaned back into your chair with a sigh and sipped the rest of the kvas in your glass. It wasn't even dinner time yet but you found yourself stifling a yawn. Your mind wandered to Aleksander for the umpteenth time that day. Why did he go to Baghra?

-------

His steps were loud as he descended the stairs into the main part of the hut. Baghra was still sitting in her chair from her previous talk with Y/N when she heard the door squeal open.

'Mother.' His voice echoed throughout the small building alongside the crackling of the fire.

'Have you come to ask about your Sun-Summoner? if so then the Witch has already beat you to it'

'Don't call her that, she's your Deputy now'

'I will call that brat whatever I please.'

'Baghra, I am warning you.' He didn't care for her petty games.

'Do you not see her for what she is Aleksander? She hasn't changed. You cannot go back from the atrocities she has committed.'

'Have you forgotten who I am, who we are?' He spat through his teeth.

'But you have a cause Aleksander, she craves power for the simple reason of it being addictive.'

Baghra had tried to reason with her son countless times about the girl. She pleaded with him when he'd first given himself to her, she's a monster, she will ruin you.

'I have shown you so much mercy Mother, am I not kind enough to you? Must you curse the woman I love?'

'Love is foolish my son and it never got you anywhere. She is trouble, let her go.'

'You would be an amazing court jester' He laughed and sat down beside her leaning in closer 'I am an arm's length away from finding the stag and when I do, the sun-summoner will be at our disposal and Ravka will be ours.'

'The stag is fictional. A myth. You are wasting your time.'

'If a Sun-Summoner walks amongst us, a magical stag isn't in the least a doubtful tale.'

'I'll believe it when I see it. Besides, your biggest worry right now is getting rid of the plague that haunts this Palace.'

'And what would that be, do enlighten me, mother.'

'The woman who came in here earlier bragging about sharing your bed.' Aleksander's heart leaped in his chest. She wasn't ashamed to admit it.

He leaned in closer to his mother, taking her worn hand into his.

'I suggest you find a way to get over your hatred for Y/N before it's too late. Nobody disrespects the Queen and gets away with it'

He got up and made his way to the door, ignoring the look of fury on his mother's face. He was too far away to hear her whisper;

'My boy, you will never get either of those things as long as I live.'

-----

Part 17

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @lifeisingrey @edithsvoice

#shadow and bone #the darkling #imagine #the darkling x reader #ben barnes #alexander #alexander morozova #fanfic #grisha #alina starkov #black general #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #black kefta #baghra morozova

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uvobreakmylegs · 3 years

Text

Floor 200

I’m still working on part two of vampire!Hisoka but here’s a different, shorter piece with him

Warnings: threats of noncon, implied death, implications of smut

You yelped a bit as you moved out of the way of the two young boys who burst out from the elevator, barely managing to avoid them plowing you down as they sprinted past you.

The boy wearing green at least had the decency to call back a “sorry!” to you as they ran, and the rather messy-looking man with glasses that followed behind them also offered you a quick apology before going on his way. Just as quickly as those three had come, they were gone, leaving through a side entrance of Heaven's Arena while your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest at how sudden and unexpected all of that had been.

The encounter was more confusing than anything. With the amount of dangerous characters that lived in the tower, it certainly wasn't a place for children to be running around like that. Some of the people here really didn't give a shit, and if those two ran into someone who was actually dangerous and bloodthirsty, you feared what the end result of that would be.

The elevator doors sliding shut brought you back to reality, and you pushed your arm against one door to hold it open as you slipped inside, pushing the button for the 200th floor.

Thinking about those boys again brought back memories of your own childhood, of running around and playing with your friends and getting into trouble. You sighed a little bit, thinking of the things you used to do and wondering where all that energy had gone now that you'd grown up.

….. Dear God, had you really gotten to the point in your life where you'd be reminiscing about your childhood and the fact that you'd grown up to be as miserable as everybody else? It wasn't like you were that old.

You didn't want to focus on that slightly depressing thought, so you turned your attention to the bags of groceries you held and the meal you planned to make. Tonight was special. After finishing up a few jobs and going through his Hunter exam, Hisoka was actually back and planned to stick around for a while. So to celebrate both his success and return you were planning on cooking dinner for the two of you. You couldn't help feeling a little bit of excitement at the thought of it. It was such a small thing to eat dinner together, but it had been a while since you had seen him last, and you wanted to make the most of it.

The downside of living on the 200th floor of the arena meant that the elevator rides were terribly long, so you usually let your mind wander as the car made its way up the numerous floors. At least the long ride helped you to calm down from that little bit of shock earlier.

The ding of the elevator and the sound of the doors sliding open alerted you when you reached your destination. You left the elevator car and veered to the right towards the hallway that lead to Hisoka's room.

“Hey you- Oh.”

A voice sounded from behind, and you turned around to see who had spoken, finding three men that you knew better than you wanted to. Though for the life of you, you could never remember their names. You only knew them as the one in the wheelchair, the freaky-looking one missing an arm, and the other freaky-looking one in red. Gido.... That one was named Gido. You were about 90% sure that was correct.

“Can I help you?” you asked them.

They all avoided your gaze.

“We were waiting for someone else,” the one without an arm said, “thought you were these two kids that made it to the floor.”

“Do I look like two kids?”

None of them responded to your question. It was clear that they wanted you to leave, but after the last time you had been confronted in these hallways, they knew better than to even say anything out of line.

Hisoka had been pushing you to move in with him, and while you weren't really sure you wanted to live at the tower full-time, you couldn't deny that the room he had on the 200th floor was nice. A lot nicer than anything you could afford in that city. And since there weren't any rent or utilities that needed to be paid, it would be a good opportunity to save up some cash. So you agreed, much to Hisoka's delight.

The incident occurred when you had been moving in; Hisoka had gone on ahead of you, carrying a few boxes while you were bringing up a few bags full of clothes. On the way to Hisoka's room, those three had stopped you, along with a fourth man, one who was covered in burn scars and missing an eye. It was obvious you weren't a nen user, so they'd demanded to know what you were doing up there.

“My boyfriend lives here; I'm moving in with him,” you told them.

“Boyfriend, huh?” the one with the scars asked, “what, you cozied up to one of the fighters here so you could live in luxury without working for it?”

“I don't have to explain myself to you,” you answered.

“No, but you'll do it anyway.”

“Fuck off.”

At that he grabbed you by the throat and slammed you into the wall, the other three laughing behind him as he held you in place.

“It just isn't good for the arena's image if any random slut off the street can be living up on this level alongside the quality fighters,” he said, “so beat it, you stupid bitch. You don't belong here.”

“And a bunch of losers who barely survived their initiations do?”

Your words seemed to hit a nerve for all four of them, and the air around you grew deadly as the grip on your throat became that much tighter. But as he did so, the one with the scars smirked as a thought came to his mind.

“I've got an idea,” he said, “why doesn't your boyfriend make a wager with me? If he fights me and wins, you can stay. But if I win, my buddies and I get to have you for the night, and then you get the fuck outta here.”

“You want to fuck me? I thought I was a slut,” you spat, “is this about humiliating me or are you four just that desperate because no one is stupid enough to willingly get in bed with you?”

He reached with his other hand to grab your jaw and force your mouth closed. Egging him on really was so stupid, but the familiar figure you had noticed from the corner of your eye made you feel a bit more bold.

“You've got a mouth on you. But I've got a few ideas on how to shut you up and put that little smartass mouth to better use.”

The other three had grown quiet, but the one holding you didn't notice.

“So how 'bout it? Will you ask your boyfriend about that wager, or should I?”

It was hard to speak with how he was holding you, but you responded as you pointed to your right.

“I think.... He already heard.”

The scarred man's eyes followed where you were pointing, and when he saw Hisoka standing within earshot, you swore that man's soul just about left his body.

The other three had already noticed him, and were actively trying to distance themselves from their fourth.

Hisoka was smiling, but the second the man laid eyes on him bloodlust he had been holding back oozed from him, filling up the hallway and consuming all four.

The man who had been on your case backed away from you, holding up his hands in surrender.

“I-I-I d-didn't know,” he sputtered.

Hisoka didn't answer at first. He casually walked up to you two and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against him. With how Hisoka's nails dug into your hip, you could tell that Hisoka was well and truly pissed off. The man had stayed where he was, the murderous aura keeping him in place.

Hisoka looked to him.

“I accept your wager.”

The fight between them was one of the most gruesome things you had ever witnessed, and it went down as one of the bloodiest matches in the tower's history. The remaining trio didn't go anywhere near Hisoka after that, and they did everything they could to avoid you as well.

Whatever they were waiting for must have been important to them, seeing as they weren't turning around and leaving at the sight of you. They had mentioned kids, and you wondered if they were referring to the two boys who had come from the elevator.

But ultimately, it wasn't any of your business, and you motioned to the hallway you had been headed for as you asked “do you need me for something? I've got stuff I need to do.”

They shook their heads, their eyes still averted, and you continued on your way. The petty side of you wanted to throw back a quip of some kind, but you decided against it. They already didn't like you; there was no point in making things worse and have them resent you further.

Though it was probably hard for them to start shit when they remembered the way their old buddy was cut to pieces.

When you entered that hallway, to your surprise, you found Hisoka sitting on the floor at the other end. His eyes widened and he grinned when he saw you, flicking the card he was holding and throwing it into the wall. Reaching the end of the hallway, you found several playing cards that had been sliced into the wall at various angles. What the hell was he doing?

“.... What'd the wall do to you?” you finally asked.

Hisoka paused, a new card he was about to throw still between his fingers as he looked over to you.

“After we've been apart for so long, that's the first thing you say to me?” he responded, his eyebrow raised. Though he still had that teasing grin.

“You're making a nuisance of yourself,” you answered, “who exactly is going to clean this up once you're done here?”

“Who knows. It's not my problem.”

“I used to work in jobs like these, Hisoka. Trust me, cleaning up something like this won’t be fun.”

“The people who will clean this up aren't you, so I don't care,” he responded.

You sighed. You wouldn't be getting anywhere with this argument; better to just let it go.

“Is there a reason you're sitting on the floor out here?” you tried instead.

“I'm waiting for someone.”

“Hm. I'm guessing it's not me.”

“Afraid not.”

“Who then?”

“Two promising little fighters who've caught my eye,” Hisoka mused, “but they aren't quite ready to be up on this level just yet. And unless they can get past me, they won't be advancing any further.”

“So this is some kind of initiation thing?” you asked.

“In a way.”

“And how long is this going to take?”

“They need to be back before midnight, so possibly until then.”

Your eyes narrowed at that bit of information.

“Oh? Is something wrong?” Hisoka asked, tilting his head as he looked at you.

“Haven't you forgotten something, Hisoka?”

Seconds passed by as he looked up at you, and you couldn't tell if he was just bullshitting you or if he had genuinely forgotten your plans for the evening.

“Oh!” he exclaimed after a moment, “we were planning on dinner, weren't we?”

“It seriously took you that long to remember?” you asked dryly.

“You'll have to forgive me, pet. I simply got caught up in the moment. You know how I get sometimes.”

“Unfortunately, yeah, I do,” you sighed, “so you're just going to blow me off tonight?”

“It isn't anything personal. This is just something I need to see through,” he explained.

“Oh, of course. At least I know how high I am on your list of priorities,” you responded sarcastically.

Hisoka frowned at that, and as he threw the card he had been holding into the wall, he said “you know I don't like it when you say things like that, even as a joke.”

'Just like you know I don't like it when you cancel last-minute,' was what you wanted to say to him. But as disappointed as you were, you didn't want to get into an argument immediately after seeing him again. And it was easy enough to reschedule a dinner.

“Whatever. We can move dinner to tomorrow,” you shrugging as you conceded.

“I appreciate it,” he said, smiling.

“I guess if I'm not awake by the time you get back, I'll see you in the morning.”

Hisoka nodded, and you began to walk forward, passing him and heading to your room.

A thought occurred to you then, and you turned back.

“When was the last time you ate, Hisoka?”

He seemed caught slightly off-guard by the question, and he looked to the side as his brain tried to recall the last time he had done something as basic as making sure he ate.

“You can't even remember, can you?” you asked him.

“I'll have something when I get back,” he said, shrugging.

You sighed again. Adjusting the bags so you held both on one arm, you rummaged through as you walked back to him. Hisoka looked at you curiously as you held out an apple for him.

“Eat something, idiot.”

Hisoka chuckled.

“If you insist,” he replied, taking the apple.

“I always appreciate the way you take care of me, pet.”

“Yeah, but maybe one of these days you could start to take care of yourself. Kinda sad you need me to remind you to eat, of all things.”

“I can't help it. I like it when you dote on me.”

“Idiot.”

A slight blur of movement from the end of the hallway caught your attention. Someone was listening in, it seemed. Based off the slight bit of red you had seen, it was safe to assume it was Gido. Why he was listening to you and Hisoka you weren't sure. And it didn't seem that Hisoka had seemed to care; if you had noticed him, than Hisoka definitely knew he was there.

“Something wrong? I wouldn't want to keep you out here as well,” Hisoka said.

“... No, everything's fine. I just need to do one last thing.”

“Oh?”

“Since you're blowing me off for dinner, I want something from you.”

You knelt down on your knees and set the bags to the side before you moved in to place a kiss on Hisoka's lips, resting your hands on his chest. He had seemed rather surprised at first and didn't move. But when you began to pull away he reacted, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pressing you harder against his lips. When you felt his tongue trying to force its way in you relented, opening your mouth and allowing him access. You weren't able to stop the groan that came out of you at the sensation of his tongue moving against your own, and to you it sounded like the noise echoed slightly in the empty hallway. Hisoka always made his kisses intense, and you were always left with flushed cheeks by the end of it.

When you pulled away again, he allowed it. His finger twirled a strand of your hair as he breathed “if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were using me to keep certain pests off your back.”

“Well, you have to be good for something, right?”

“Cheeky thing.”

You hummed as you stood back up, Hisoka trailing his hand down your arm as you did so, the sensation of his nails running along your skin giving you goosebumps. One glance back down that hallway and you could sense that there wasn't anyone there. Probably too awkward for even Gido to keep watching you two. Hisoka had already pulled out another playing card as you picked up the rest of the groceries.

“See you later, Hisoka.”

You began to walk away again, but when Hisoka called out your name, you paused and turned your head. There was a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Don't think you can rile me up and then get away with no consequences,” he told you.

“I don't know what you mean,” you said, feigning ignorance.

“Then I'll have to show you what I mean when I come back tonight.”

“It might have to wait until tomorrow; if you're coming back after midnight I'm going to be asleep. I'm not waiting up for you.”

“Trust me, pet,” he purred as he flung another card at the wall, “you won't be getting much sleep tonight.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the way he said it. It was hardly even that dirty, and he had certainly said much dirtier things to you before. But in a way that only he was able, Hisoka managed to leave you flustered and incapable of keeping eye contact with him. Turning your head away from him just made it worse, as he chuckled at your embarrassment.

“We'll see,” was all you could say.

It was a pretty weak response, and you were quick to head back to the room, trying not to walk away too quickly and show him how much of a hurry you were in to get out of that situation.

Despite all that, you couldn't help the slight feeling of anticipation from what he promised.

You'd probably end up waiting up for him after all.

#hisoka x reader #Hisoka #hxh hisoka #reader insert #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #hisoka morow #yandere hunter x hunter

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thoughtfulturtleprincess · 3 years

Text

A non-OP fan’s (slashy/romantic)take on Buggy and Shanks’ relationship

Disclaimer: I’m not a One Piece fan by any stretch so I don’t follow the manga or anime but I’ve seen clips of it here and there on the internet, and got intrigued by the one and only Buggy and his relationship with Shanks. I’ve been thinking a lot about them recently and reading a lot of fics/reddit theories so here’s my take. I’ll most definitely miss stuff so actual fans please jump in and correct me/add things!

Warning: My interpretation is that there is some romantic undertones to their relationship. If you don’t agree with this please don’t read! Thanks :D

1. Shanks and Buggy grew up together on the same ship. Some have suggested that they were only 1 when they were picked up by Roger’s crew, although the youngest we’ve seen them tgt was when they were 9 years old. Regardless, they probably didn’t have much of a chance to form long lasting friendships with other children outside the ship, so their peer group consisted only of each other, and that’s crazy.

2. I feel like these circumstances would’ve led to a form of closeness that supersedes modern friendship. Some have described their bond as a brotherhood, and many have stated that they love each other.

3. However, I feel like brotherly love doesn’t fully explain their dynamic(in the anime version of their Marineford reunion). While it explains why Shanks took care of Buggy when on the Oro Jackson despite their squabbles, why he invited Buggy to go with him after Roger’s execution, and why he seemed quite happy to see Buggy at Marineford aged 39, it doesn’t quite explain why his first instinct there was to make a fool of Buggy, only to brush it off as a whim afterwards. And it most certainly doesn’t explain the most SUS thing about that interaction, which was Shanks’ facial expression and tone of voice. There’s just something very sus about that in particular because it doesn’t feel brotherly, but more like flirtatious teasing??? which Buggy is totally confused by btw.

4. I watched the Japanese version of their reunion. During most of it one of Shanks’ eyebrows was slightly raised in a sort of mischievous way, and just before he walks off he says ‘I know, so don’t be angry.’ in a tone that’s borderline flirtatious???? Does Shanks know that he can placate Buggy with flirtatious teasing?? In that case I wouldn’t call this brotherly love anymore. Does that mean he’s done that in the past and it’s worked???????

5. Perhaps these are artistic liberties that the animators and voice actors have taken, but I assume this is also approved by Oda? Maybe this is a trap for yaoi fangirls and I’ve fallen into it lmao I am not sure how this works - someone more well versed in the mechanics of this please chip in :D In any case, we’ll see where this takes us:

6. There’s 2 things to address here: the trickery, and the borderline playful flirting that happened towards the end. Firstly, the trickery: there’s a power dynamic here and Shanks is the one on top. He’s thinking about how to stop the war, Luffy, and probably other bigger things. When he sees Buggy he probably felt a lot of things then but because of the circumstance, he decides to use him as a way to get something done.

7. It was a funny interaction, and I’m going to over-analyse it. When Buggy refused to help Shanks with the strawhat, it’s interesting that the latter decided to trick him with the false promise of a treasure map, rather than to just say sth along the lines of ‘why not help for old times’ sake’ etc. Perhaps he thinks that Buggy would be too prideful to be swayed by those types of arguments. But perhaps this is where Shanks miscalculated, and why Buggy was so offended lol just a while ago Buggy had helped Luffy because he had been touched by his innocence and resemblance to young Shanks, and here Shanks is basically saying that even after all these years he still thinks Buggy is below matters of the heart.

8. Shanks probably also thinks he can trick Buggy into doing things for him without incurring any real consequence. It’s almost like the ‘I’m just going to say this first and then deal with his reaction later’ type mentality. Let’s face it, what can Buggy do? Fighting is out of the question: the disparity in their power levels seems too large for this to be a concern for Shanks, and Buggy is highly averse to fighting battles that he knows he can’t win. Cutting ties? Well, that’s been done: Buggy rejected Shanks’ offer to join his crew years ago, and they haven’t really met since, so the worst has already happened. Shanks has had years to get over that.

9. Perhaps over time Shanks has become more focused than his easy smiles let on. Ironically, Buggy was the one to criticise Shanks for being soft hearted when they were younger, but ultimately it is Buggy who tears up at the sight of Luffy’s innocence and decides to fight alongside him in Impel Down, and it is him that calls out Shanks’ name in the middle of the battlefield, seemingly without a care for their surroundings or consequences, just to be taken advantage of by the other.

10. Some may say I’m making Shanks sound a bit evil, and that perhaps all of this happened subconsciously. Maybe the sentiment behind tricking Buggy is half a funny way to greet his old comrade, and half a sign that he still remembers a lot about him and on top of that trusts him with his hat.

11. While I agree with the fact that Shanks basically does not have any true malice towards Buggy, I can’t ignore the power dynamic between them. The trickery was funny only to Shanks, not to Buggy, but I think this dynamic fits perfectly with Shanks’ role as the Emperor and Buggy’s as the Clown.

12. Alas, Emperors maintain an indestructible reputation, and Clowns make themselves look bad for laughs. So mb Buggy is just fulfilling that role for Shanks in the story. After all, Shanks is portrayed as a flawless man: he is selfless, ambitious, righteous, protects the weak, stops wars and has never lost a battle in his life. On the other hand, Buggy is portrayed in the complete opposite manner: he is self-serving, duplicitous, scummy, money-loving and lazy.

13. It’s kind of sad that Buggy was basically born into(afaik his nose is natural) this role though and is forced to make the most out of it.

14. Secondly, the playful flirtatiousness(I keep using this word because I feel like that’s the vibe he gave off at the end of one of the clips I saw lmao): Shanks is not really treating Buggy as an adult in his own right, but acts as if Buggy is a child(or capricious lover??) that has to be coaxed into doing the right thing. That’s also borderline disrespectful, but it could just be a matter of them having been apart for such a long time that Shanks automatically defaulted to their old, childish ways because he hadn’t really had the chance to get to know Buggy as an adult.

15. But then this begs the question of what exactly is the nature of their relationship? Brotherly love doesn’t fit with the flirting, so perhaps it’s a different kind of love? Some possible reasons for why Shanks would ever be flirtatious could be 1. there’s some romantic elements to their relationship in the past that he’s taking advantage of now e.g. maybe Buggy was attracted to him and he is taking advantage of it? or 2. it’s a new thing he’s trying because he thinks it’s funny and Buggy would be too confused to keep retorting so it’s a fun way to end the conversation and at the same time to plant a seed in the clown that might make him follow Shanks later? (Buggy did immediately think about doing that lololol) Is this Shanks’ way of getting Buggy to come back to him lmao without explicitly asking loooool

16. Judging by Buggy’s reaction it seems like number 2 is more likely but this is all anime-only afaik

17. All in all, I feel like Buggy is a special person to Shanks and vice versa, and even though Buggy is just one element of a much bigger picture for Shanks (whereas for Buggy, Shanks seems to have a much bigger presence in his mind), the fact that they spent their childhood only having each other as peers enabled them to form a deep mutual trust and closeness that didn’t seem to have dampened after twenty odd years of separation.

#buggy x shanks #one piece #shuggy #buggy/shanks #shanks/buggy #shanks x buggy #my take on their relationship lol #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #captain buggy #red haired shanks #red-haired shanks #one piece shanks #shanks #buggy d clown #buggy senpai

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fandom-puff · 3 years

Text

I Will Wait- Severus Snape

Notes: this is the first of my celebratory song-fics! I hope you enjoy !!

Warnings: violence, serious injury (inc descriptions of blood and death), reference to torture, anxiety, trauma- this is set during the events of Deathly Hallows if that’s an indicator.

Gif creds to owner

Song creds to Owners

Well I came home

Like a stone

And I fell heavy into your arms

These days of dust

Which we've known

Will blow away with this new sun

Severus pushed into the private chambers attached to the headmaster’s office, gaunt, shaking, practically dead behind the eyes. You closed your book, quickly setting it aside and rushing to his side, brows knitted together with worry.

“First years,” he whispered. “They’re torturing first years,”

“Severus…” you murmured, gathering him into your arms, feeling his tears wet through your t-shirt. “It-”

“No,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare say ‘it’s okay’. It’s not. They’re children. I never, never should’ve agreed to let the Carrows teach,”

You grasped onto Severus’s arms, holding him at an arm’s length. “No. It’s not okay. I know that. But it will be. We’ll get through this. We always have, we always will,” you pushed the hair that hung limp in front of Severus’s eyes away, cupping his cheek. “There’s a student resistance group meeting as we speak. The first years whose cannot go home are protected- well, as protected as they can be in a school full of Death Eaters. Minerva and Poppy have been slipping them potions and salves hidden in their homework. Even the house elves are in on it. If you stop the Carrows now, they will know something is wrong. You need to keep… him on side, Severus. We will bring them down, but we cannot do that if they don’t think they have the upper hand,” Severus nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This will pass,” you reassured him,

But I'll kneel down

Wait for now

And I'll kneel down

Know my ground

Severus took a shaky breath and nodded, letting you guide him to the couch before his knees gave out. “Soon,” you promised him, kissing his forehead. Stroking his hair, you held him close to his chest, lulling him to a fitful sleep.

But Severus gasped, sitting bolt upright and grasping onto his wrist as it burned with the summon of the dark lord. He didn’t immediately get up. “Go,” you said. “You must go, I’m sure there is still some floo powder in the-”

“I know! I know i must go,” he snapped and you sighed, watching him go, knowing not to argue.

And I will wait, I will wait for you

And I will wait, I will wait for you…

***

So break my step

And relent

You forgave and I won't forget

Know what we've seen

And him with less

Now in some way

Shake the excess

“YN,”

The rasp of Severus’s voice woke you almost immediately. “Shhh… I’m here,” you said, rubbing your eyes as you sat up, adjusting to the darkness; the candles had burned right to the stub.

“I’m sorry,” was all Severus said, and you frowned, pulling him close, knowing that whatever had happened that night was worse than usual. While Severus’s uninjured state indicated that he hadn’t been physically hurt, you knew immediately that he had been tortured emotionally, mentally. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice dissolving into a small, weak whimper as he repeated those two words over and over again, cradled in your arms as he yanked on his own hair. You shushed him, untangling his fingers from his hair so that you could squeeze his hands. “H-he threatened to kill you if I limited the Carrows’ power… you’re in danger as long as you’re associated with me. H-he could’ve killed you and my lasts words to you would’ve been those of anger,”

“I know. I know I am in danger. But you are in greater danger, every day. Do not be sorry, Severus. And if you are, for whatever reason, I forgive you,”

***

Now I'll be bold

As well as strong

And use my head alongside my heart

So take my flesh

And fix my eyes

A tethered mind free from the lies

“Nagini… kill,”

You bit back your gasp as you heard the vicious hiss of the serpent, the groan of pain and the thud of his body on the floor of the shrieking shack. Voldemort slipped out of the shack, his beloved snake beside him, leaving Severus’s bleeding, broken body behind, a forgotten waste product of his reign of terror. Tears slid down your face as you heard Potter creep through.

“Take them,” you heard Severus wheeze, and you knew from the hitch in his voice that he meant his tears.

As harry made to leave the shack, you grasped onto his shoulder, making him gasp and draw his wand. “Get rid of the snake. Get rid of the snake and it’s over,”

Wide eyed, harry nodded quickly, not quite registering who you were (though he was sure he had seen you in Grimmauld Place more than once) and running off.

And I'll kneel down

Wait for now

I'll kneel down

Know my ground

You fell to your knees next to Severus, your tears dripping onto his face, mingling with the salty tracks of his own. Bowing your head, you openly sobbed, your hands stained by his blood as you grasped onto his clothes, feeling the heat of his body still radiating through the fabric, the weak, unsteady thud of his heart against your hands.

Your head snapped up and your eyes widened.

“Severus…”

Raise my hands

Paint my spirit gold

And bow my head

Keep my heart slow

You had never been more tired in your life, yet you refused to allow your eyelids to droop, your mind to switch off, your thoughts to still. Walking up to the Headmistress’s tower (for McGonagall was now the head of Hogwarts), you willed yourself to keep going, to keep moving as you put one foot in front of the other, up the winding staircase. You knocked on the door, just in case there was somebody in there, before opening the door.

The office was empty, most of the portraits snoring, or visiting other frames. Dumbledore’s portrait, however, was wide awake as he stared down at you with his familiar, sky blue twinkle. “Any news, dear girl?” He asked gently and you sighed, running your hand through your hair.

“Still the same,” you said, voice a little high pitched and shaking. “I’ve come to collect a new book…” you had been steadily working your way through some of Severus’s favourite reads, reading them aloud for him, sure he could hear you as he lay in his coma. “And a razor. His five o’clock shadow is rivalling even yours now, and he did- he likes being clean-shaved,”

“Make sure you take care of yourself too,” Dumbledore’s portrait advised you. “Otherwise Madame pomfrey will put you into a hospital bed too,”

***

The old potions tome lay abandoned on the bedside table with a bit of paper marking the place. You held onto Severus’s hand in both of yours, your fingers occasionally dipping down to check his pulse, to make sure he was still with you as you bowed your head over your clasped hands, your wedding bands clacking occasionally. Kissing his knuckles, you stared up at his face; he hadn’t looked as relaxed as he did in two years, and it pained you to think that after everything, it took a coma to undo the tight knit in his brow.

'Cause I will wait, I will wait for you

“I love you, Severus,” you whispered against his hand. “I love you. Please, stay with me, come back,” you bit your lip hard. “Leave me in this world alone as long as you want, but please... come back to me. You always have, Severus. And I’ll be waiting right here for you,”

And I will wait, I will wait for you

***

Tags: @liliputbahn @lilymurphy03 @pinkandblueblurbs @wholebigboxofyikes @remus-lupin-simp @dailyalanrickman @cremedelabrulee @simpforsnape @imareallygrumpyme @ithinkweallsing @lizlil @whizzbeesdukes @sassicaismysupreme @acciosiriusblack @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sociallyawkward-princess @sw33tgirl @pandaxnienke @agalandhermarvelobsession @once-upon-an-imagine @lazyotakujen @lilypad-55449 @rogertaylorismycar

#Spotify #fandom puff’s 5000 follower celebration #songfic #severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #severus snape x y/n #mumford and sons #harry potter #hp #harry potter imagine #snape #it’s a bit angsty #soz

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azucanela · 3 years

Text

chapter ii

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: cursing. mentions of a bomb.

word count: 3k

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

series masterlist

THE MEETING WAS NOT SUCCESSFUL. AT ALL. Or at least, that’s how it seemed in Y/N’s eyes. Seeing as the only thing that had come out of it was… spending more time with Bakugou. Which was the opposite of what she wanted to do at the moment seeing as she despised him. Y/N actually had a feeling that any further interactions with Bakugou would only end in more chaos. So, Y/N decided she would set to work, as she would any other day.

Ignore the problem until it goes away, right?

Slipping on her hero costume feels like a chore, pulling the gloves of her suit on with a grimace. They only served as a reminder of her inability to fully control her ability— though Y/N was known as someone with some of the most impressive quirk control. There was always that underlying feeling, of course that feeling never belonged to her. It had always been hard, shutting out the emotions of others, Y/N had found that those who feel the most strongly were the ones she would avoid.

Clearly she had failed.

Regardless, those emotions tended to be distracting as she went about her day. Y/N had learnt to ignore them, to block them out for periods of time, but in a career like hers it was unavoidable. The pain, the rage, the panic, the pure feeling of fear. It could get overwhelming and that often put her at a disadvantage. Emotions were viewed as a weakness, and oftentimes allowing your emotions to get the best of you resulted in unnecessary deaths. But allowing the emotions of others to do so?

It got even worse when she actually activated her quirk to its fullest extent. With a single touch, she could utilize the abilities of a person— all their abilities. When it came to quirks, if you controlled your quirk well, so could she. Otherwise, she would adapt the skills of a person, their intelligence, their athleticism, even their hobbies. Y/N could even the fact that she’d made it through UA to this ability. After all, she’d never been athletic, but her classmates had been.

But her setback had always been a pain, especially in battle, Y/N felt the pain of whoever’s quirk she mimicked. If they were shot, Y/N felt it as if she had been shot as well. She’d never experienced someone dying on her. Nor did she want to. But Y/N was capable of holding as many quirks and capabilities as she could handle— and pain added up very quickly.

It had been worse when she was younger, but Y/N had grown during her time at UA, and now she was capable of ignoring the emotions of others to an extent, and her pain tolerance had grown exponentially.

Y/N was grateful for her success, for the agency she’d been working at. She was not grateful for the looks she got on the way there, Y/N could feel the whispers of those who watched her enter as they walked past. Though she could only hope her own staff had more respect for her.

Her lips pressed together into a tight lipped smile as she entered, and Y/N found herself bracing for whatever could greet her. And to her delight, it appeared that everything was normal. Save for Lorelai’s presence by the entrance, her phone in hand. As though she had known Y/N had entered, the girl in question looks up from her phone before Y/N even has the chance to speak.

“We need to go over our plan, Y/N.”

In response, Y/N waves her off, continuing down the corridor. She smiles to those who greet her, mumbling back to them as Lorelai follows her. “Actually, I need to plan my first patrol of the morning.” She says, looking back to her friend momentarily.

“Then I’ll plan. And my plan includes a real nice fake dating scheme, kinda like those movies.”

Almost instantly Y/N turns around, glaring at Lorelai— who simply offers her a smile in response, clearly pleased with herself as she begins to move alongside Y/N rather than behind her. Y/N had no doubt that they would plan a fake dating scheme if it came down to it, unless she got involved that is. “So?”

“Well, the fake dating scheme was an actual option but you clearly don't like that.” Lorelai mumbles out in response, now holding a tablet as she guides them into a room. “Aside from that, basic press events together,” Lorelai looks up from her tablet pointedly, “where you actually look like you’re enjoying yourself, should amend the situation easily enough.”

Y/N raised a brow, taking a step around the long meeting table where those who worked at Hawk’s agency would soon congregate for their weekly assignments, “a little too easy if you ask me.” She looks to Lorelai, “Bakugou agreed to this?”

“I’m sure his PR team will convince him.” Came her response, shrugging as she took a seat on the table and crossed her legs. “We can do a public statement but there’s no real reason for making this a bigger thing than it already is. It would only end badly.”

With a frown, Y/N’s eyes drift back towards the window. They’re still on the first floor so it’s not like she’s seeing much, but it’s almost astonishing, how there are people just… going about their days without a single fear in the world. All Might’s downfall had eradicated the mindset but on days like these it felt as though not a single thing had changed. As though there weren’t still dozens of underground organizations planning horrid things, and there weren’t hero agencies like her own devising ways to stop them.

Hero Society was a fragile, and corrupt thing.

Y/N had watched as they threw children into every battle, she remembered when she’d been forced to do such things herself. She had watched her comrades, her friends, nearly die for a cause they were too young to comprehend. And she watched as civilians criticized them for not doing enough. Why did her publicity even matter? Shouldn’t that be the least of her concerns? Y/N found it funny that she needed to do well in polls to do her job well. It was the only real way to guarantee access to certain information that low ranked heroes didn’t get.

With a sigh,Y/N turns back, brows furrowed, “so when does this start?”

Placing the tablet beside her on the table, Lorelai rests her palms against it and leans back against them, “next week probably. Haru still needs to work out the details with the rest of the PR team and Bakugou.”

A small laugh escapes Y/N as she mumbles out, “it takes a whole team to keep that man from ruining himself.”

“Most Pro Heroes have a PR team, Y/N. You’re one of few exceptions.” Lorelai corrects, looking to her. It was true, Y/N was aware that more popular heroes often had teams of people coordinating their social media, schedules, public outings, and more.

Y/N tilts her head at Lorelai, “why is that?”

Lorelai raises a brow at her friend’s words, “what, you want to get rid of me?”

Y/N laughs once more, shaking her head, “no… it’s just—” She turns to face her friend, “when I hired you I couldn’t really afford anyone else. Now I can. But you do all the work by yourself.” Biting her lip, Y/N asks, “why is that? I could get you an assistant or something, easily.”

“Well you aren’t exactly the most problematic,” Lorelai responds, offering her a small smile.

Nodding, Y/N pulls out a chair at the head of the table, taking a seat, “but you also have plenty of other clients—”

The door opens, drawing their attention to the person who stands there, one of many heroes who worked at the agency., Pro Hero Telen, a simple hero name with an equally simple quirk. But his ability had saved them numerous times in battle. He pauses as he enters, “is it— is it not time for the briefing? Have I interrupted something? I apologize I can—”

He moves to shut the door but Lorelai simply hops off the table, collecting her tablet as she heads to the door and rests a hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry— we’re done here, right Y/N?” Y/N simply nods, and Lorelai offers her a smile, “be careful today.” She mumbles out, before turning back to Telen. Y/N doesn’t know what she says, but he pales and nods before entering. Shortly after, everyone else seems to file inside, and Y/N finds herself sighing as she spins around in her chair as she waits.

It would be a long day. A very, very, long day.

BAKUGOU WAS TIRED. He really was. Working at Endeavor’s Agency meant long hours, endless paperwork, constant cases. And right now he was assigned to the current big thing; the Stain copycat that had yet to be caught. Unfortunately, this guy didn’t seem to be an amateur like the rest. Of course, whoever it was, they’d primarily been attacking minor Pro Heroes, until recently.

Slowly working their way up the food chain of heroes until they ended up coming across someone who was relevant. It was inevitable, at one point whoever it was, they’d bite more than they can chew. Trying to take on a hero that surpassed their skills, whatever those skills may be— or they would slip up. Leaving behind some sort of evidence that would result in their capture.

The only issue was, there was no telling where or when this would be. How many would have to die before they were caught? Bakugou didn’t necessarily want to know, and it was his job to make sure no one ever knew how many.

A job he was failing. Alongside Deku, who had also been assigned to the case, it was a curious partnership but he had no choice to make it work. And his publicist had insisted that any presence with a hero like him would be good publicity. After all, most of the public knew about their little rivalry so it would make him seem diplomatic in a way. But Deku was…

“So… the gala, huh.”

Well, he was Deku.

“Shut up.”

Thankfully, they hadn’t run into any reporters, though he was sure someone had caught pictures of them on duty together. Which was bound to end either ridiculously well for him, or incredibly poorly. It was always hit or miss with the press and Bakugou despised the entire aspect of the job. It was the one thing he could admit he was bad at. He wasn’t the most approachable, meaning it was rare for reporters to approach him in the first place due to his renowned temper.

The pair was making their way through the streets of the city, patrol was normal but they were currently on their way to the police station. They were supposed to be collaborating with the police to handle this copycat, and for some reason Deku was… panicked. It was subtle but the guy had been practically sweating bullets since Endeavor told them they’d need to work with the police.

If Bakugou was honest this whole job was busy work. Why else would Endeavor’s agency be working on it? The Number One hero had to have better things to do. Maybe this was a punishment for what happened on the last mission they went on.

Bakugou frowns at the thought, electing to push those thoughts to the back of his mind as they come to stand in front of the Police Station. He finds himself bringing a hand to rub his temple. It was definitely going to be a long day. And he hadn’t even spoken to Haru about how the meeting with Lorelai went yet. Not that he wanted to know at this point, Bakugou had a feeling he wouldn’t be satisfied with any solution they proposed.

He really didn’t feel like dealing with any of this. So, Bakugou finds himself thinking that it might be time to use all those vacation days he’d been holding onto since he’d started working with Endeavor. They were piling up after all.

With a huff, he and Deku make their way up the steps up the police station, and Bakugou pushes the door open. It’s busy inside, as expected. A bustling atmosphere that reeks of blood, sweat, and tears, literally. There are some people seated, likely waiting to be processed, they’re handcuffed and Bakugou is fairly sure he recognizes one of them. Not that he has the time to dwell on it as they move through the police station.

One of the officers makes their way towards them, “you’re the heroes Endeavor’s agency sent?” He asks, looking to Deku, brow raised. “Welcome back.”

Bakugou looks at Izuku incredulously as they begin to follow the man through the mess of a building, “the hell is that supposed to mean?” He hisses, but Izuku’s face has already flushed as he covers it with his hands, shaking his head.

“It was one time, how do all of you know about it!” Izuku cried out, and Bakugou finds himself glaring at his partner for the day, even without context.

The officer simply laughs, waving him off as they make their way into a room. There stands the police chief, Kenji Tsuragamae, and a few others seated at some of the many seats in the room, in front of white board that seems to be more of a mess than those around them. They look tired, exhausted even.

Tsuragamae seems to notice their presence, clapping to garner the attention of the few inside the room, “everyone, please welcome the Pro Heroes from Endeavor’s agency. They’ll be assisting us with this case moving forwards.”

The officers seem rather unimpressed, and since Izuku still seems rather embarrassed for some reason, Bakugou finds himself stepping forwards, “what’s going on?”

With a sigh, he goes to answer. But he doesn’t get the chance as an explosion sounds and the building shakes. A siren goes off above them and suddenly the sprinklers began shooting out water as a woman entered, “sir! There’s been an explosion.”

Bakugou fights the urge to say, no shit, as he and Izuku exchange looks, “is it an attack?”

“On the police? That’s bold.” The officer from earlier comments as they all rise from their seats. But the fear in the room is abundantly evident as they all await her response, anticipation amongst them all. Because who would do such a thing, and so strategically placed on the day

The woman only shakes her head, and this time a man appears beside her, based on the way he’s dressed— Bakugou would have to guess he’s a plumber of some sort, but the man simply explains, “we think it’s an issue with the boiler room.”

Bakugou finds himself rolling his eyes, “then why are you still here?” He turns to the rest of the room, “get on with the briefing and get the damn plumber down there.” He grumbles out, before taking a seat once more and redirecting his attention back to the chief, gesturing for him to carry on with his presentation. All the while Izuku is apologizing rather profusely for his attitude.

Now, crime had worsened exponentially after All Might’s downfall. It’s not that other heroes were suddenly less capable, although some were discouraged by the fall of the greatest hero. It’s just that All Might was a symbol. Even years after the fact, Bakugou could still see it. Things had changed. Although in recent times, crime had lessened thanks to the work of today’s Pro Heroes, there were still… issues.

Many had gone the vigilante route as a result of the League of Villains and Stain— and speaking of Stain, there had been several copycats over the years, people who agreed with his ideals and his actions. Which is what brought them here. The issue at hand was this most recent copycat was… decent. Most of the time it was amateurs who didn’t plan that far ahead, quick and easy to catch with minimal casualties, if any.

Essentially, the police had nothing on him. Just a list of his victims and what they had in common. They were underground heroes, like that of his own teacher from UA, but something about them seemed off, different from what they’d seen in other copycats in the past. They weren’t like the flashy heroes you would find, the ones who seemed… fake. The ones most targeted because they fit Stain’s idea of a false hero.

And even then, there was no being sure which were the victims of this copycat and which were that of others. As the anniversary of Stain’s capture grew closer, more attacks were popping up.

Shaking away these thoughts, Bakugou grimaces. All he had gotten from that briefing was that they knew nothing, had done nothing, and were going nowhere. Which wasn’t necessarily encouraging. So far, there were four confirmed victims of the copycat, and three additional deaths that were viewed as possible victims of the copycat. Technically, one of the copycats, but that wasn’t something he necessarily wanted to think about.

Yeah, he would definitely be taking those vacation days.

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