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inaflashimagine · 11 months

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lo mejor (i)

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader (can be read as reader being latine)

summary: nueva york had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

but he continued to find himself going to your restaurant, a few of the other spider-people less than convinced that it's just for your food.

a/n: as a latina who also eats empanadas to cure their hanger, i just needed to get this off my chest. will be a multi-part fic!

3k wc. no warnings for this chapter, other than a litany of english + spanish curses

masterlist | one | two

–

“I’m in hiding. He’s angry at me…again…”

As much as the kid was growing on Jess, she sent an unimpressed look at the flickering hologram. “In other news, water is wet.”

“But seriously, how can he expect me to write a report only 5 minutes after I finish a mission? He’s worse than my AP Lit teacher, and Ms. O’Connor was—”

“Gwen, I’m gonna stop you right there. Because we’ve been through this before. You know how to fix this.”

Though her face was covered by her mask, the widening of her goggles before her shoulders sagged in defeat showed Jess that Gwen knew exactly what to do.

“But can’t you come with me? What if I mess up the order?”

“Are you kidding me right now? Didn’t you want me to ‘chill with the hovering’?”

Gwen sighed, already starting to swing her way through Nueva York to get to her destination. “I know, I know, I’ll go. Do you want anything?”

“No need, it sounds like you might have to buy the whole store to be in his good graces again. Good luck.”

Her mentor logged off before hearing her star pupil groan in frustration—what was supposed to be an effortless day was quickly becoming a pain in her ass.

Like countless times before, Gwen quickly changed into her set of ‘futuristic’ civilian clothes to blend in with the rest of the long line at the tiny, but packed, restaurant. If it weren’t for the enticing smell of freshly baked dough, Gwen wondered if this would all be worth it. She’d have to cancel the jam session with Hobie if this plan didn’t work, lest she face the wrath of the villain of the week, Miguel O’Hara.

But when she finally saw a familiar smile and a warm pair of eyes greeting her behind the counter, she realized that Jess was right—she knew how to fix this.

Or rather, you did.

“Mi gringa favorita! It’s been a while. How many empanadas does el jefe need?”

–

Miguel was having a bad day.

It started with the usual suspect: Peter B., un pendejo who believed that Miguel and Jess actually wanted to hear about his daughter’s bowel movements.

Not to mention the impromptu comedy club Miguel had to break down so everyone could get back to doing the jobs they forgot they signed up for. (Nothing was more irritating than being surrounded by unfunny people who genuinely thought their endless quips and corny jokes landed. Every. Single. Time.)

Then for the umpteenth time, he had to tell Gwen to turn in her reports on time. Yet that was nothing compared to her latest efforts in convincing Miguel to let Miles visit HQ and gently explain (gently because, “He doesn’t know any better!”) that he’s the biggest threat to the multi-verse. These poor attempts, unsurprisingly, fell flat. O’Hara warned Jess that the girl would be a liability, and each day he grew closer to sending the kid back to Earth-65 if she decided to pull any tricks.

But the worst part of this dreadful day was when a nervous, slightly cowering Chef Spidey told his boss there were no more empanadas.

“What?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion, indifferent to the uncomfortable silence that enveloped the cafeteria at the sound of his incredulity. “What do you mean, there’s no more empanadas? Who ate the last one?”

“He promised me not to tell you!”

And with that, Miguel stalked to his office where he was currently sulking in, seriously considering changing Peter B.’s portal watch to a day pass as punishment for apparently eating over a half dozen empanadas.

Just as he was about to give Lyla the command, his associate in the heart sunglasses suddenly appeared. “Gwen Stacy will be here in a minute, might want to start lowering your platform.”

“Maldita sea, didn’t I tell you to not let anyone in?” He pinched the bridge of his nose—he’d much prefer for his ears to be rattled with Peter B.‘s ramblings and even Ben Reilly’s moping over Gwen’s incessant whining about how crappy the current Spider Society establishment was. (She was spending way too much time with Hobie.)

“Hey pal, that’s not a nice word, and she comes bearing gifts that you’ll like.”

“Oh really?” he remarked dryly, arms crossed as he began his descent. “She finished the ten detailed reports she owes me?”

Yet Miguel caught the heavenly smell of beef empanadas before seeing Gwen’s sheepish face. And did he also catch a whiff of chorizo and cheese?

“Hi, Miguel. Heard you haven’t had lunch yet, sooooo…” Shaking off her nerves and avoiding that terrifying gaze, she held out the two large boxes as her apology. “And I’ll submit those reports by tonight, I promise.”

An eyebrow raised, he webbed the boxes toward himself and held them even more tightly when he saw where they came from.

His eyes glossed over the mascot of Mama’s Empanadas, a smiling and waving empanada that almost seemed to assure him that his hanger would quickly be cured. But it was the words hurriedly scribbled at the bottom that displaced the rage he’s felt all day with a weird pang in his chest:

“Buen provecho, Jefe :)”

Miguel quickly turned away, hoping he seemed more composed than he actually felt. As the floor to his office slowly began to ascend, he said, “I’ll give you one more day to finish those reports. But don’t think it’s because this bribe worked.”

“Of course.” Gwen hoped the amusement wasn’t clear in her voice, smirking at the shoulders of the tall man lose their tension as he began eating the ‘bribe’. Would Hobie even believe her if she told him what just happened?

“Thanks, Miguel. See you tomorrow!”

He didn’t even register her last words, eyes closed as he savored the explosive taste of smoked chorizo and finally allowed fond memories to flood his brain.

—

Nueva York had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. Unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

It’s not that he didn’t know how to make them–he’s sure that he could follow his abuela’s recipes that his ma once gave him–but he just didn’t have time. After all, nothing was more convenient than cashing in the perks of the suit to cut a long line and grab free food. But once Lyla finished the goober she was working on (“It’s not a goober, Miguel, it’s a gizmo!”), he’d have even less time to do anything other than jump into different dimensions, some of which would certainly not sell empanadas.

This explained why after changing into sweats following a grueling shift, he found himself staring across the busy street at Mama’s Empanadas, the hunger in his growling stomach overwhelming. The small restaurant was engulfed by flashing neon lights and signs boasting the quality of their food in both Spanish and English. The place was always swarming with people whenever he swung by, but as closing time approached only a few stragglers remained.

And so did you.

Miguel hoped that you were the owner of the shop rather than an overworked employee, considering that he couldn’t remember the last time someone else took your position behind the counter. But even from this distance, he could see your cheery smile while you welcomed new patrons and the regulars, almost as if you were genuinely happy to be serving them on a late Friday night.

With all the running around he’s been doing lately, he couldn’t even remember the last time taking on the Spider-Man mantle gave him the same joy he spotted on your face miles away.

O’Hara felt his phone vibrate as he saw the latest message from Lyla illuminating his screen.

“Got some news to share! Might want to deliver the bad stuff in person though.”

“Que chingada,” Miguel cursed, rubbing tired eyes as he contemplated whether to reply. How could the news get even worse after Earth-1610 lost Peter Parker, their only Spider-Man?

Raising his head, he watched you approach the storefront to activate the electrified gates that would close the shop.

And for reasons his brain would never be able to explain, he felt himself panic, almost as if his body jolted awake as he deftly weaved through honking cars and found himself in front of you, the only barrier being a pesky glass door that would take a millisecond for him to break.

Yet he was surprised to see you hold your ground, and even more shocked to see you flash him an annoyed look he’s never seen you give to any other customer. Shoulders tense, he was ready for you to begin berating him for being a nuisance and to leave the fuck off the premises.

“Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan!”

Miguel blinked, not sure he heard you correctly. Sure, calling him an idiot is warranted, but he was not almost run over by those cars. Even if he did get hit–which, again, he wouldn’t–then the car would be hurt, not him.

Instead of explaining himself without implicating his alter persona, or at the very least say something remotely coherent in English or Spanish, Miguel found himself even more gobsmacked when you opened the door and ushered him inside, frantically asking him questions in a random jumble of Spanglish as you tried inspecting a man seemingly twice your size for any injuries.

“¿No hablas español? Should I call 911, mierda, is this guy catatonic? Should I have moved him? Are you hurt?”

Feeling your hands shake his shoulders finally snapped him out of whatever funk he was in, confusion washing over him as he tried to piece together what just happened in the past minute. Heeding your obvious concern, he sighed and did his best to ignore the absolutely embarrassing predicament he put himself in.

“Estoy bien,” he assured you, his relief matching yours as you let go and immediately exhaled. “I really am fine, I just wanted to try the empanadas before closing.”

There was that exasperation again, your deadly expression sufficient in asking him ‘Are you serious?’ that your high-pitched words of “En serio?” were quite unnecessary, in his opinion.

“Was running across a congested street not serious enough?”

You scoffed before glaring at him for a few more seconds, though he could see the uncertain shift in your eyes. “This isn’t some twisted joke to rob me, right? Last thing I need is having Spider-Man beating you up and breaking my new glass counter.”

Miguel couldn’t hide the wry twist of his lips, fully aware that he could be thrown out at any minute but still curious to hear your opinion. “Not a Spider-Man fan?”

“As long as he doesn’t destroy my property, I wouldn’t even mind defending the dude on J. Jonah Jameson’s stupid podcast.“ You shrugged casually, already beginning to make your way behind the counter after deeming Miguel to be harmless, despite looking like he could crush you with his pinky.

He didn’t know how to respond, still perplexed about why you hadn't kicked him out yet.

He soon brushed those thoughts to the side when his mouth watered upon seeing you point at the remaining golden-brown pastries. “Well, these will be on the house, since you almost died in front of my restaurant. We only have 3 chicken left, 2 guava and cheese, and 1 chorizo with potato.”

Miguel felt his phone vibrate again–no doubt it was Lyla.

And for the first time in a long time, he turned off his phone, not even bothering to view the message as he chose to look at you instead.

“I’ll take them all.”

–

When you first decided to take over your family’s restaurant, your tía taught you how to handle rude customers while also giving you advice on how to treat the nice ones so they always returned.

However, there was nothing in her playbook on how to treat the weird customers.

And Miguel O’Hara was the weirdest by far.

You took a light sip of your café con leche as you stole a glance at him starting his second empanada, the sight of such a quiet, large man sitting in a tiny seat and restraining his urge to inhale the food in one go quite comical. Much like how he ate the first one, he attempted to seem unaffected by the taste of the meaty filling.

But after doing this for so many years, no one could ever hide their reaction from you. Especially the pure happiness one got from eating a toasty, savory empanada.

And seeing the dark red-brown eyes of the intimidating man briefly widening and softening in amazement only made you want to find more ways to recapture that fleeting moment. To lengthen it and bask in its warmth, even if that meant countless hours of mincing, seasoning, kneading, and baking.

“¿Entonces? The only thing you’ve said these past five minutes is your name. ¿Que dice el juez?” you teased, leaning back and smugly folding your arms as you already knew what his verdict would be.

It was a choice you instantly regretted, almost falling out of your chair as he stopped looking at his half-finished empanada and focused all of his attention on you, a gaze so intense you briefly pondered if you left the oven on with the sudden swell of heat suffocating you.

He pursed his lips and rolled those impossibly broad shoulders, yet another action that made the room feel uncomfortably stuffy for no good reason. “It’s one of the best empanadas I’ve ever had in my life.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised, expecting to hear a ‘good’ or maybe even a ‘great’, but not the highest of praises.

A pregnant pause ensued before a hearty laugh escaped you.

It was impossible to suspend your disbelief–all of this coming from one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen enter this shop? Only when pigs fly, or as your abuela preferred to say, “Solo cuando los cerdos vuelan.”

“¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto.”

He had to know that his half-glare really was just him smoldering. There was no way this man was oblivious to the effects of that gaze.

“I don’t think I’m a liar or particularly funny. Though I actually would appreciate a Coca, si la tienes.”

You desperately hoped that your immediate sigh sounded one stemming from annoyance rather than relief–having an excuse to get up and look for a can of soda rather than the brooding dude a mere foot away from you was the only way you’d stay sane through this strange night.

“I do appreciate the kind words,” you said after recollecting your composure, the cool air blasting from the fridge reminding you to retain at least some semblance of professionalism, “but these aren’t even the freshest batch. No way they’re the best you’ve had.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow as you handed him the can. “I didn’t say the best. And you don’t have any with a glass bottle?”

You rolled your eyes before plopping back into your seat. “If I did, I would’ve hit you in the head with it quite a while ago. And especially now, after your challenge.”

“It’s not meant to be taken as a challenge–”

“Ah, but I’ll take it as one because my family’s reputation is riding on this. Or else mi abuela, que en paz descanse”–you pointed to the framed picture of the sweet, old lady right above the cash register–“lanzará sus chanclas poderosas, and I don’t want to get hit by those, they’re stronger than that car that was about to run you over.”

The roll of his eyes was obnoxiously overt, but you barely caught a glimpse of the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, masterfully hidden by taking a sip of his coke.

“How would this so-called challenge even work?”

“You’re asking the wrong question because that’s an easy answer. The next time you come, I’ll bake you a fresh batch of your favorite empanadas, no matter what kind and even if you come 5 minutes before closing.” Listing the types with each finger, it’s hard to contain your excitement. “Baked, fried, sweet, savory, you name it.”

“¿Y si no me gustan?”

“¡No seas tonto! Yet another dumb question, because you’ll not only like them, you’ll fucking love them. The right question is whether you’d think they’re the best.”

You swore he inched closer, the once faint smell of sandalwood from his cologne now overpowering your already-fried senses. “And what if they’re not the best?”

“I’ll get two more attempts afterward. If they still don’t meet your palate’s expectations, which honestly isn’t a worry of mine, then you’ll get free empanadas for the year.” It’s said without hesitation, with confidence you have no idea how you mustered all of a sudden.

Out of all moments to be driven by pride, you choose to do so while tightrope walking on a straight razor.

And you wondered if Miguel read your mind because, for the first time, you heard his laugh. It’s a sardonic one, but its deep timbre was as attractive as his face and meshed well with his incredibly dry sense of humor.

Maybe the walk wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined.

“You’re either extremely arrogant in thinking you’ll win, or too trustful in people to believe they wouldn’t scam you with this deal.”

“But you’re not just some normal person,” you reply simply, amused to see his shoulders slightly stiffened, “and I believe you when you said you’re not a liar. Call it a gut feeling.”

“What do you even get out of this?” he asked, puzzled at how you just weren’t setting yourself up for failure. He didn’t need Lyla for him to visualize the thousands of ways you could lose.

Your wolfish grin showed a lot more than your words. “Nothing, other than making my family proud. Anddd perhaps receiving a five-star review on Yelp wouldn’t hurt either.”

Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged before lifting his soda can toward you. “That’s the least I could do. But don’t think I’ll make this easy for you.”

You gently clinked his can with your cup of coffee as your eyes locked with his, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

–

translations (please lmk if you need more):

Mi gringa favorita - my favorite white girl

El jefe - the boss

Un pendejo - a dumbass

Maldita sea - goddamn it

Buen provecho, Jefe - Enjoy your meal, boss

Que chingada - what bullshit/wtf

Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan! - Are you an idiot? They almost ran you over!

No hablas espanol? - You don't speak Spanish

Estoy bien - I'm fine

Que dice el juez - What does the judge say?

¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto - Liar! You say it as if it was the last coca-cola in the desert

Una coca - A Coca Cola

Si la tienes - If you have it

Que en paza descanse - may she rip

Lanzarla las chanclas poderosas - she'll release her powerful flip-flops

Y si no me gustan? - And if I don't like it?

No seas tonto - Don't be silly/dumb

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #astv x reader #lo mejor series

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 1 month

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Mastermind

@would-we-be-friends-if-i asked:

Nathan Ford (mastermind, functioning alcoholic, father of a dead son, used to be an insurance investigator)

@pomrania writes:

The ones I'm uncertain about are Nate Ford and Hardison. [...] Nate Ford, there's a whole bunch of relevant things about him, but the thing an keeps coming to mind for me is that most of his personas (if he needs to be in character for a con) are deliberately VERY annoying, and I think it'd be fun to see how far and how long he could needle Dracula.

@r0sequarks writes:

And Nate…in many ways he is Jonathan Harked except replace the sweetness for being a manipulative bastard. He is a sad enough catholic that he would take the crucifix, but more importantly, I think he’d realize Dracula was the carriage driver and also the lack of servants, and even if he didn’t piece together the supernatural would notice something was off. I’m not sure if him picking things up sooner would help or hurt him though; either he makes it out with a similar plan to Jonathan or he takes things a step too far and gets killed before he can become a bigger hassle.

@darthlordcommie writes:

Nate: Figures out Dracula's deal, investigates properly, but can't hide his attitude enough not to be suspicious. Doesn't make it.

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

Yeah....

Nate's strength is holistic thing. He's good at people (in a very different way from how Sophie is) - he's good at seeing how things fit together in a larger system and context. I could see him doing Mina's job and succeeding wildly at it.

I can't see him doing Jonathan's job.

Nate is in many ways his own worst enemy. Not just with the alcoholism, though that doesn't help. Like, if Dracula offers him a bottle of Slivovitz for the Calèche rude, he's drinking it. (We speculated that the Slivovitz might be drugged, and Jonathan was supposed to arrive at the Castle less cogent than he in fact does. If so, bad news for Nate.) There's some wiggle in exactly where in his character development we take him from. He might just taste the Slivovitz and then pour the rest on him and pretend to be the same drunken asshole he would have been had he consumed all of it... but I don't see how this helps him materially.

He might actually refuse the crucifix. Nobody is as weird about Catholicism as Catholics, especially ex-Catholics. I guess it depends on how jaded and angry at God personally he is feeling at the time - and how hungover he is that morning.

I agree with the assessment that Nate could solve Castle Dracula. He'll pick up on the fact all the people around him are terrified all the time, and that the source if that terror is the Count himself. He'll note the huge number of crosses on the hillsides, all the active little shrines. I doubt the folks will be as aggressive about pressing gifts on him - he doesn't attract sympathy the same way a fresh-faced innocent would - but he will pay attention to all the goings on and have a fairly good idea of what he's going to, at least on a psychological/personality level, before he gets there. He will recognize immediately that the Calèche driver is playing a role and wearing a disguise - he knows a con when he sees one. So maybe he will be more cautious with the Slivovitz than I was giving him credit for. I think between one thing and another he will have a fairly accurate picture of what Dracula is like as a person before he officially meets him.

And I'm not sure this helps him at all because he will inevitably choose a persona calculated to annoy! As you say, Nate's MO is to irritate the Mark into making a mistake. But... the mistake Dracula is most likely to make is getting so mad he accidentally murders his guest and has to order a new one. Very frustrating for Dracula - absolutely fatal for Nate.

And I think Nate's problem is he can't help himself. We talked about Hardison getting cocky, but Nate very much also gets cocky in a self-destructive way. And because Dracula is very much not as clever as he thinks he is, that's going to feed Nate's cockiness, especially without his crew there coaxing him back from the brink. Nate is better at this than Dracula is... but Dracula is a vampire wizard who murders people. He doesn't have to win the other contests, he can just cheat. And he does.

You've said Nate is similar to Jonathan Harker - I couldn't disagree more. He's too sad, jaded, and Catholic. He's not the laser focus on just one thing thereby missing the bigger picture guy either - he's the opposite of that. However, I do think he's a lot like Abraham van Helsing, right down to the Dead Son Trauma. (I don't think the baby eating in the Castle would trigger gim the way it would Eliot, but I think Lucy's situation would). Not nearly as cheerful though, but every bit as Obnoxious On Purpose - and of course, an actual genius who works much much better when he has people to tell him no.

So yeah, I think Nathan Ford can not survive Castle Dracula.

#leverage #nathan ford #crooks #other white collar #leverage week

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scary-grace · 9 days

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 5) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

You end up on a rooftop, you and Tenko and Kurogiri. Tenko has a pair of binoculars, and he lets you look through them before you have a chance to ask what he’s looking for. “We’re in Hosu,” he says. “The current location of the Hero Killer.”

“Are you going to fight him?”

“I’m doing what you said.”

You can’t remember what you said, except for your stupid joke. “Making him unfuckable?”

Tenko snickers, and somewhere behind you, Kurogiri does the same – which is extra weird. “No. Putting us back in the headlines.”

“Oh.” You don’t like this. “I’m not a strategist. You shouldn’t listen to me.”

“Why?” Tenko gives you a weird look. “You’re not stupid. Your ideas aren’t any worse than mine.”

“I don’t want you to get mad at me if it goes wrong,” you say. “I’ve heard you get mad at Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri chuckles. “That’s different,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura. Tell her why it’s different.”

“Shut up,” Tenko says. He put the hand back over his face once he let go of your hand, but he’s turning red around it. Again. “Kurogiri’s not my sidekick. I don’t have to listen to him.”

“You don’t have to listen to me, either,” you say. “I don’t know anything about being – this.”

“You understand them better than I do,” Tenko says. He gestures at the expanse of Hosu before you. “What would it take to make you stop trusting heroes?”

You already don’t trust heroes very much. What would it take to move people like your parents or your siblings, who live in the other Japan, to where you are? “To see them choose wrong.”

Tenko gives you a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“Heroes can’t save everybody. They can’t be everywhere. They can’t be there all the time. But nobody ever thinks that the heroes won’t choose to save them,” you explain. “If you wanted to shake things up, you’d have to make it so the heroes choose wrong. For everybody to see.”

Tenko’s eyes light up, and the smile on his face this time looks less like your friend’s and more like the villain he’s become. “Then we’re in the right place,” he says. “This city is crawling with heroes looking for Stain. Let’s put them in a bind. Kurogiri, bring the Nomu. All of them.”

“Nomu?” you squeak, even as multiple portals open around you. “You have more than one?”

“We have lots. Sensei only gave me three.” Tenko gestures proudly at the monsters emerging from the portals. Everything about them looks like they’ve been put together wrong, from their staring eyes to their featureless faces to their pasty skin that smells like rot. The news reports about the attack on UA were clear about one thing – the Nomu that faced off against All Might was fast and extremely strong. “What do you think?”

One passes close to you and you cringe away, closer to Tenko. “They’re awful.”

“Exactly,” Tenko says. He stares down at the city, an expression on his face that’s somehow grim and vicious at once. “Let’s see what the rest of them think.”

The Nomus crawl down the sides of the building and vanish into the city. Tenko hasn’t given them orders, and neither has Kurogiri. You have questions – a lot of questions – but you’re not sure what it’s safe to ask. You’re Tenko’s sidekick, but that doesn’t mean his plans are yours to comment on. It feels weird to keep quiet, too. You and Tenko used to get in trouble for talking in class because you never ran out of things to talk about.

“You don’t look weird.”

You cough. “What?”

“You don’t look weird,” Tenko says again. You look at him, surprised, and find him looking straight ahead, peering through the binoculars. “I should have let you fix my shoulder the rest of the way.”

“What did you end up doing with it?” You reach over and part the cut fabric on his shoulder, wincing as you get a look at the bandaging job. “Next time, just let me finish.”

“Can you fix the rest of it?”

“I can’t do more stitches when it’s been open this long,” you say. Tenko grimaces but doesn’t swear at you. “There’s a chance it’ll get infected. If it does –”

“I’ll send Kurogiri to find you.”

“Tell him to give me a heads-up instead of just snatching me. I might need to grab antibiotics and I don’t want to make two trips.”

Tenko nods like this makes sense, which it does, except for the context. You’re standing here on the roof of a building in a city that’s already facing one villainous threat, while your childhood best friend turned aspiring supervillain has just released another – on your advice, no less. You try to rationalize it. Hosu is crawling with heroes, like Tenko said. If they’re good heroes, they’ll divert their attention to protecting the civilians. Heroes fighting Nomus will get Tenko the headlines he wants for the League of Villains, and if nobody gets hurt aside from the heroes who signed up for the job –

You need to be careful with that line of thinking. With that line of thinking, you could excuse what happened to the students during the attack on UA. “Can I ask you something?” you say, and Tenko nods. “Why did you go after the students?”

“I wasn’t after them. The point was All Might.”

“But you brought all those other villains,” you say. “On the news they said that Kurogiri moved the kids all over the training facility so the villains could kill them. And –”

You’re thinking of something else you heard, from Kazuo – that Tenko tried to kill at least three students directly, and All Might’s arrival was the only thing that stopped him. “He was supposed to be there from the beginning,” Tenko says. “All Might. Dividing the students up was supposed to distract him. Split his focus so he’d be more vulnerable to Nomu.”

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. “Those villains were weak,” Tenko continues. “The brats could deal with them on their own. It would have taken All Might two seconds. But two seconds is all we would have needed.”

“So it was – strategy.”

“Yeah.” Tenko lowers his binoculars, glances at you. “Do you believe me?”

The words leave your mouth before you can think better of them. “I’d believe you more if I could see you.”

Tenko was in the process of looking away. Now he glances back, and you can tell he’s startled, even through the fingers of the hand. You’re not sure what the hands are for. When he attacked the USJ, he was wearing multiple sets, but usually he only wears Father around you. You haven��t asked him to remove the hand before – only asked him where it was when he wasn’t wearing it, and when you think it over, you can’t see any commonalities between the times when it’s off and the times when it’s on. Maybe it’s the kind of thing you can ask about now that you’re Tenko’s sidekick again.

Tenko grips the binoculars one-handed, reaching up to remove the hand with the other. “The brats weren’t the real target,” he says.

“But you still tried to kill three of them.”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, like it doesn’t matter, without care – and without malice. “They were right there, and I thought All Might wasn’t coming. Everybody had to see how he failed again.”

Again? You’re not the biggest All Might fan, but you don’t remember hearing about All Might failing to save children who were being held hostage. In fact, when All Might has to prioritize, he saves children first. Tenko is watching you now. “Do you believe me?”

“I believe you,” you say, and you see his shoulders relax. “You’re not a very good liar.”

He never was. When you were trying to get away with things as children, you did the talking. Tenko’s job was to stay quiet and not make eye contact with whichever adult was questioning the two of you. No matter how desperate he was not to get caught, a few seconds of eye contact was enough to break him. In the present, Tenko smiles slightly. “Lucky I’ve got you.”

You like seeing him smile, and you’ve seen it twice tonight. The knot in your chest relaxes, only to tighten again as a chorus of screams rise from the city below. Tenko lifts his binoculars eagerly and you twist your hands together, trying to contain your unease. You have your best friend. He wants you with him – his sidekick, just like you used to be. You still know how to make him smile. And he’s a villain, the kind of villain who, when his plan to kill All Might looked like it wouldn’t pan out, decided to kill three children instead. What are you doing here?

More screams from below. You wonder how many civilians are being hurt, how many heroes are protecting them versus chasing Stain. You know there’s a free clinic branch in Hosu, one that’s open overnight just like yours is. They’ll be busy tonight. At least you won’t have to worry about them treating injured villains as well as civilians.

Or will they? What are the Nomus, exactly? Where did they come from? Is that the kind of question you’re allowed to ask Tenko now that you’re friends again? “Um,” you start, but he doesn’t look at you, just keeps peering through the binoculars. Sometimes he focuses so hard it’s like his ears stop working. You remember that from when you were kids. “Tenko?”

He still doesn’t answer. You reach out, touch his shoulder, and he startles so badly that he drops the binoculars. If he grabs them with all five fingers, they’ll disintegrate. You catch them for him, since it’s your fault, and pass them back once he’s ready. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s – fine.” Tenko’s shoulder is tense beneath your hand. You’re still touching him, and you shouldn’t be. You pull your hand back. “What is it?”

“The Nomu,” you say hesitantly. “What are they?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri warns. “You should not –”

“She won’t tell,” Tenko says without looking at him. He hasn’t put the hand back over his face. “They’re – I guess you could call them zombies. They’re made from bodies. Usually two or three bodies, and three or four quirk factors. It’s usually the same quirk factors. Shock absorption, regeneration, speed. I don’t care if you touch me.”

You’re too busy trying to wrap your head around the fact that somebody’s figured out how to raise the dead to catch the last thing. It takes you a second to get to it, and even then, you have to ask a clarifying question. “You don’t care? Or you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.”

Something is wrong with you. Something is really wrong with you that you’re more interested in why Tenko doesn’t mind if you touch him than in the fact that Tenko has multiple zombies at his disposal to turn loose on unsuspecting heroes and civilians. You try to focus. “Where do the bodies come from?”

“I don’t know,” Tenko says. He’s frowning slightly. A moment later, he puts the hand back on his face – but before you can decide if it’s because he’s mad at you, he hands you the binoculars. “Look.”

You look through them. You’re looking in the wrong spot, and after a few seconds of trying to give you directions, Tenko gives up and just covers your hands with his, moving you in the right direction. His index fingers are lifted, protecting you from his quirk. You see what he wanted you to look at quickly enough – heroes facing off against the Nomus. Endeavor facing off against the Nomus. It looks like the heroes chose right.

You can’t deny that it’s a relief. The civilians will always be your priority, and even if almost everyone has a quirk, most of those quirks are useless when it comes to defending against zombies with multiple quirks, and they’re banned from using them anyway. But you have the sense that Tenko’s not pleased, and when you look at him, you see him scowling behind the hand. “They’re making it look too easy,” he complains.

“These Nomu were not as strong as the Nomu from USJ,” Kurogiri says. “You were made aware, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“These heroes aren’t as strong as All Might,” Tenko snaps in response. “Master set me up – again –”

You spot something through the binoculars. Something Tenko needs to see. You push them back into his hands. “Look at that.”

Tenko’s still scowling, but he lifts the binoculars to peer through them. A second later he startles. Even without the binoculars, you can see a dark shape in distant flight over the city, something clutched in its claws. You don’t know who the Nomu grabbed, or where it’s taking them, but Tenko can’t fail to be pleased with that. Can he?

He can. A moment later he swears. “Fucking Hero Killer –”

Your heart sinks. “What happened?”

“He killed it. To save some hero brat.” Tenko’s binoculars are crumbling in his hand. You wonder if he even notices. “Fucking Hero Killer. Fuck!”

You’re pretty sure that’s not the end of the story. The Hero Killer saved a hero, after claiming that there’s only one true hero, and it’s All Might? You slide your phone out of your pocket, clear a bunch of notifications from your friends’ group chat, and navigate to Twitter. Somebody’s got to be reporting on this live, and sure enough, you find “Hero Killer” trending, plus a livestream of Stain’s arrest. He’s getting arrested, and with at least twenty murders under his belt, there’s no way he’s getting out of Tartarus in this lifetime. You touch Tenko’s shoulder again – after all, he said it was fine – and speak quietly. “Hey.”

“What?”

He won’t look at you. “Look at this,” you say instead, holding out your phone. “The heroes got him.”

“So?”

“So that’s it for him,” you say. “He’s going to prison for the rest of his life. All Might’s definitely not going to fuck him now.”

It’s quiet for a second, aside from a wheeze emanating from somewhere behind the two of you. It’s still weird to hear Kurogiri laugh. You don’t even know if he has lungs. Beside you, Tenko’s doing everything in his power to hang onto his scowl, and it’s not working very well. “Is that the only joke you know?”

You feel a surge of relief. “I’ll stop using it when you stop laughing at it.”

You hear the sound of helicopter blades in the distance, growing closer. Tenko can hear it, too. “Kurogiri, let’s go. We’re done here.”

You barely have a second to wonder where you’re headed before the black mist wells up, and you’re not entirely surprised to find yourself back in the bar. Kurogiri’s behind it already. Tenko’s sitting at it, the chair next to his kicked outwards. As you watch, Kurogiri sets two glasses down and lifts an unopened bottle of champagne. He opens it, pouring first Tenko’s glass, then the glass in front of the empty chair.

Tenko glances over his shoulder, spots you, and gestures impatiently at the chair. You sit down next to him and study the glass of champagne. Tenko’s already chugging his, but he stops halfway and glances at you. “Why aren’t you drinking it?”

You could lie, but you don’t want to. “I watched him pour it, and I don’t think you’d drug me. But I still have to be careful.”

Tenko doesn’t look offended. Instead he swaps glasses with you, and Kurogiri makes a discontented noise. “She doesn’t want to drink your backwash, Tomura. Even if you did brush your teeth before we left.”

“Shut up,” Tenko snaps at him. He’s turning red again. You look down into your new glass, trying not to laugh. “I brush my teeth all the time. You’re not special.”

That one gets you. You start laughing, and Kurogiri makes that weird wheezing sound. You’re starting to realize that unlike the villain you met earlier today, who was all over the place, Kurogiri’s got two distinct aspects – one that’s more formal, more severe, and another that’s significantly more relaxed. The second one sounds younger, too, and the impression only grows stronger when Kurogiri speaks again. “If you drink someone else’s backwash, it’s like making out with them indirectly.”

“No it isn’t! I didn’t ask you!”

Tenko is bright red and sputtering, and Kurogiri’s yellow eyes are crinkling, almost the way a person’s would. It occurs to you what this aspect of Kurogiri reminds you of – a sibling. You teased your younger siblings the exact same way, when you could get away with it. Well aware that you’re making some kind of statement about the whole thing, you pick up the glass that used to be Tenko’s and take a small sip. It doesn’t taste like anything but champagne.

When you look up, you find Tenko and Kurogiri watching you. Staring, more accurately – Tenko’s jaw is dropped. You will your face not to flush. “Thanks for switching with me. As long as you don’t pass out in the next half an hour, we’re good to go.”

“So you have to stay at least that long.”

He doesn’t want you to leave. You take another sip of champagne, giving yourself time to get under control. You don’t want Tenko to know how pleased you are with the thought, or how ambivalent you are at being pleased by it. “I guess I do.”

You stay for another hour and a half, reading over the news coverage of the Nomu attack and the Hero Killer’s capture until you can barely keep your eyes open. But you have an early morning, and even though Tenko complains that you have to go and makes fun of you for agreeing to take Yoshimi to her appointment, he doesn’t suggest that you back out of it. As Kurogiri is determining where to set a warp gate to send you back to Yokohama, you ask him why not.

Tenko gives you a weird look. “I know you,” he says. “That’s not who you are.”

He’s right. It isn’t. And as much as you’re pleased by the thought that your best friend still knows you after all these years, the disquiet lurking underneath it follows you home, curls up on your chest as you try to fall asleep. You’re not the kind of person who’d turn your back on a friend, or go back on your word once you’ve given it. But apparently you’re the kind of person who watches a villain turn monsters loose on innocent people and does absolutely nothing to stop him.

You might have made your choice already. You might have stepped over the line. But you have a bad feeling that you’ll be looking back over your shoulder at it until it’s vanished over the horizon, knowing you made the wrong call and knowing deep in your bones that there’s nothing else you could have done.

You’ve done basically nothing, but you still get the sense that you’re leading a double life. You comfort yourself with the thought that even if you went to the police, you’d have nothing useful to tell them. You don’t know where Tenko’s hideout is. You don’t know anything about who makes the Nomus or where they’re hidden. You don’t know anything about Kurogiri except that it seems like there are two personalities in there, and what Kazuo said about his quirk not being natural. You’re still not sure what Kazuo meant by that. Just like you’re not sure who Tenko’s master is.

The things you know would be absolutely useless to them. You know that Tenko recovered from his USJ injuries only to get immediately slashed up by Stain. You know Tenko likes champagne but can’t hold his liquor for shit. You know he’s smart and strategic, a lot more than the news gives him credit for, which is bad for them and probably also bad for you. You know he likes video games more than he did when he was a kid, but he likes you just as much as he did back then. You like him just as much, too. Probably too much.

You haven’t seen him again since that night in Hosu. You know he’ll send Kurogiri to find you if he needs you, and the fact that he doesn’t need you means he’s not getting hurt. But you’re watchful anyway. No matter where you’re walking, day or night, you find yourself keeping a close eye the shadows, watching from your peripheral vision in case one of them hides a warp gate. Or better yet, hides Tenko.

“Hypervigilance,” Kazuo remarks when he catches you at it, one partly cloudy day in early June. “A hallmark of traumatic stress. You could benefit from counseling.”

“It’s not wrong to be wary,” you say. “Things are more dangerous than they used to be. Don’t you feel it?”

“Another hallmark of PTSD. Persistent, negative cognitions about yourself, others, or the world, exemplified by statements like The world is more dangerous than it used to be.” Kazuo can be a real asshole sometimes. “But you’re correct. Crime rates have steadily increased as All Might’s taken a step back from the public eye.”

“You really think it’s All Might?” You glance sideways at Kazuo. “Not the League of Villains?”

“The League of Villains is a symptom,” Kazuo says. The two of you got to the park early; the rest of your friends are running late for your meetup. “I looked into the backgrounds of those who were captured in the attack on USJ. For the most part, I found petty crime – thievery, fleeing from the police, physical violence committed in the course of fleeing a crime scene or an altercation with heroes.”

That tracks with the kind of villains you run into at work. Most of them have done next to nothing to earn the title. “Looking back further,” Kazuo continues, “I found poverty, substance abuse, quirk-based discrimination, childhood trauma. There were some among the criminals at USJ who sought violence specifically and consistently from an early age, but for the majority of them, it was far from inevitable that they would become criminals. It could have been otherwise.”

Thinking about what’s going on with Tenko, you’ve gotten in the habit of playing devil’s advocate. “And that’s on All Might? One hero can’t fix poverty, or childhood trauma –”

“No, they cannot. But the presence of heroes gives everyone else an excuse not to try to fix anything,” Kazuo says. He gives you a look. “There will always be some villains. The existence of enough villains to allow your friend to form a League of them means that society is failing.”

“You’re not wrong,” you say. Usually when you admit that Kazuo’s right, he moves on, but this time he keeps looking at you. “What?”

“At least try to deny it,” Kazuo says, and you know what he’s talking about. “One day I won’t be the one asking.”

You know he’s right, but as much as Tenko occupies your thoughts, you don’t have much time to dwell on him on a daily basis. Yoshimi’s sick, cancer in her lymphatic system, and with her family out of the picture and her shitty boyfriend dumping her the second he found out, you and your friends are on overdrive trying to support her. Since you’re the only one who works in the field, a lot of the daily stuff is falling on you. You’ve been taking some shifts at the central clinic so you can check in on her while she’s there for treatments, and since the high school students are all studying for their medical assistant exams, you’ve been grabbing fill-in night shifts at your regular clinic at the same time. You’re getting four hours of sleep a night, if that.

You’re exhausted. So exhausted that, when the shadows in the corner of your vision turn out to be mist as you’re walking home from the park, you keep walking straight into Kurogiri’s warp gate without a second thought.

When you arrive in the bar, Kurogiri seems surprised to see you. “I thought you might run.”

“I’m too tired to run,” you say. “Does he need me?”

Kurogiri nods, as much as a person with mist for a head can nod. “Follow me.”

You balk when you realize where you’re headed. “He doesn’t want me in there.”

“He asked me to bring you there specifically,” Kurogiri says. “Don’t worry. He’s cleaned.”

“Oh.”

The door to Tenko’s room is open, but Kurogiri knocks anyway. “Shigaraki Tomura, the girl –”

“You’re here.” Tenko appears suddenly in the doorway, the hand clamped over his face. “That was fast. You didn’t run away?”

“What kind of sidekick runs when their boss calls?” You look Tenko over. “Kurogiri said you needed me. Are you hurt?”

“My shoulder’s a mess,” Tenko says, unconcerned. “I needed to talk to you. Come in.”

He takes a few steps back, leaving room for you to step through the door. The memory of how Tenko reacted last time is still fresh in your head, and based on Tenko’s expression, he can tell. “I cleaned it,” he says impatiently. “Come in.”

In spite of the fact that your best friends have usually been boys, you haven’t spent a lot of time in boys’ rooms. The ones you have been in aren’t exactly standard. Kazuo’s room looked like an interior design magazine spread even before his mind snapped, so minimalist it was hard to imagine anyone actually living there. Sho’s room looks more like a girl’s room than yours does. Tenko’s room back when you were kids just looked like a kid’s room. Like how you would have wanted your room to look if you weren’t already sharing it with two siblings.

Tenko’s room, compared to the last time you saw it, is no longer filthy. You can see the floor, at least, and some rearranging has occurred. The desk and monitor setup has been shifted unceremoniously into one corner of the room, and on the wall where it previously sat is a flatscreen TV. You can see that it’s hooked up to a router, as well as a cable or smart TV box, and there are a few consoles and controllers strewn around nearby. Across the room from the TV is a coffee table. And behind that, a bed.

You gesture at it. “Was this here before?”

Tenko doesn’t answer. “Kurogiri, go,” he orders, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Kurogiri vanish from the doorway. “Sit down.”

You sit down on one end of the bed and Tenko sits on the other. He slides a collection of games across the coffee table to you. “I like all of these. You can pick which one we play first.”

“I’m not good at games.”

“I’ll teach you what you need to know,” Tenko says. He pushes the games at you again. “Pick.”

You start sorting through the games, searching in vain for any title you know while you try to shift the subject back into reasonable territory. “You said something was wrong with your shoulder. Can I look at it?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You said it was a mess,” you point out. “Let me see.”

“Pick a game and then you can see it.”

You see exactly one title you know – Call of Duty. You hold it up and Tenko frowns. “We can play that one for a bit. In co-op mode. But after that –”

“Show me your arm.”

Tenko scowls, but he moves from the other end of the bed until he’s within reach. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, oversized to the point where you can draw the neckline aside and reveal the wound. It’s clear that the stitches have been disturbed. The wound site is red and angry-looking and you can see scratches around it. There should be a scab on the part that Tenko wouldn’t let you stitch, but it’s clearly been peeled away. It’s either infected already or about to be, and either way, the healing process is going slower than it should be. A surge of frustration sweeps over you.

You look up at Tenko and find him watching you, unrepentant. “What?”

“You were scratching this.”

“It itched,” Tenko says. He gives you a weird look. “You never said not to.”

“I didn’t think I had to say not to scratch your open wounds.” Your frustration seeps into your tone. “You should have sent Kurogiri to get me as soon as the swelling started.”

“I tried. You’re always busy.” Tenko’s voice takes on the quality of a sneer. “Kurogiri’s been watching you for three days. You’re at that other clinic with that girl all the time.”

He didn’t use to be like this. He didn’t use to be jealous. “She has cancer. She needs someone –”

“She has other friends and doctors and parents and some loser boyfriend somewhere,” Tenko says. You start to argue that Yoshimi doesn’t have a boyfriend, courtesy of said boyfriend being a loser, but Tenko cuts you off. “She has lots of people. I only have you.”

He has Kurogiri, his master, the doctor, the Nomu – or does he? Shigaraki Tomura has those people. Tenko only has you. You peel your eyes from the angry mess Tenko’s wound has become and look up at him. “If I had known you needed me, I’d have found a way to be here. You’re my best friend.”

“I know. I –” Tenko breaks off, frustrated. “I didn’t mess with it so you’d come back.”

“I didn’t think that,” you say. “I know you scratch sometimes. It seems like less than before.”

“Only when you’re here.” Tenko shifts in his seat. You’re about to tell him he shouldn’t worry about that when he speaks again. “I feel different when you’re here. Can you fix it?”

“I’ll need to take the stitches out and clean it before I bandage it up again, but yes.” You look around for the medical supplies and Tenko pries open a drawer full of them. “Then we can play the game.”

“I can’t believe you like Call of Duty.”

“It’s just the only one I recognize,” you admit, and Tenko laughs. You like hearing him laugh. “Get ready to lose all respect for me. You might want a better sidekick.”

“I don’t need a better sidekick,” Tenko says. “I’m good enough for both of us.”

Warmth floods through you, pooling in your cheeks and your chest and the pit of your stomach. He remembers. You pull on a pair of gloves and open the suture kit. The sooner you rebandage his wound, the sooner you can play a game with your best friend for the first time since you were kids.

But after you’ve taken out the stitches, as you’re bandaging his shoulder, you notice something. The other times you’ve seen Tenko and treated his wounds, he’s been wearing long sleeves, and when you’ve cut them to get a look at the injuries, you haven’t paid much attention to whatever else might be underneath them. Now, with his arms exposed by design, you can see things you didn’t before. Tenko’s always scratched. After fifteen years of scratching he’d naturally have scars. But when the two of you were kids, you never saw him scratch his forearms. And you’ve never seen scratches look so uniform, so evenly spaced. You’ve seen things that look like that before. They weren’t scratches.

You look up and find Tenko looking at you already. “Sensei had me do them. So I’d be stronger,” he says. Your heart seizes in your chest. “Not in a while, though. When I got strong enough he let me stop.”

“That’s messed up.” You’ve been careful not to speak against Tenko’s master, not when you know so little about him, but you can’t hold back this time. “Hurting yourself doesn’t make you stronger. It just makes you hurt.”

“What would you know about it?”

“Lots. I see it every day.”

Tenko gives you a look that tells you just how little he thinks of whatever you’ve seen, and you lose patience. You let go of his arm and pull up the sleeve of your own short-sleeve shirt. “I don’t mean at work.”

Tenko’s jaw drops behind the hand. “Who made you do that?”

“Nobody made me. I did it myself, which makes me a lot dumber than you,” you say. Tenko’s lines are even. Yours are jagged, because you were angry or crying or hurrying to finish up before one of your siblings needed the bathroom or your mom came back to keep arguing with you. “Was your master trying to make you stronger? Or was he trying to teach you not to show when something hurts?”

Based on the way Tenko’s red eyes flash, you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. “What were you trying to do, then? When you were being dumber than me?”

You were being really dumb. So dumb that it’s embarrassing to talk about. “It’s a reset, biologically. Injuries force the body to release endorphins, which make you feel better for a little bit. There was a while where I had trouble controlling my temper. It helped me do that. Or at least not show it.”

“A while,” Tenko repeats. “You should have had trouble the entire fucking time.”

“I did,” you admit after a second. “You used to tell me it wasn’t okay, what my family was like. It took a while to believe you.”

Half the reason you didn’t believe Tenko was because you knew his family was messed up, too. No matter what else your dad did, he didn’t scream at you or lock you outside without dinner. But as you got older, you realized why your parents didn’t do that: They needed you too much. They needed your help with the extra kids they shouldn’t have had, and the older you got, the more it started to infuriate you.

You saw evidence of it everywhere, in places it was and places it wasn’t. They didn’t wipe your memory because they cared that you were upset about your missing friend, they did it because they needed you to be quiet and helpful instead of sad. They didn’t let you choose your favorite snack or go to a birthday party once in a blue moon because it was the fair thing to do, they did it so you wouldn’t complain about all the times you weren’t allowed to. They promised they’d make it up to you every time they shorted you in favor of your siblings with quirks, hoping the apology would make you forget. By the time you were fourteen, you weren’t forgetting anymore.

Tenko’s watching you from behind the hand, but you don’t want to be watched right now. You focus on placing the bandage. Maybe if you do that, you can pretend this isn’t happening. “What happened?” Tenko asks. “With your family.”

“Nothing,” you say. Nothing like what happened to his. “They’re out there. They call me on my birthday. Every so often they ask me for money. Do you really want to talk about this?”

Tenko doesn’t follow up. On that, at least. Three of his fingers brush across your exposed upper arm and it takes every ounce of self-control you have not to jump out of your skin. “These are old, right?”

“Not as old as yours,” you say. “They aren’t recent, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I stopped, so you should, too.” Tenko’s palm covers your upper arm for a moment, then lifts away. “It wouldn’t kill you to control your temper less, anyway. When was the last time you got really mad?”

“Three days ago. Yoshimi’s boyfriend ditched her, so I called him and lit his ass up.”

“Sure you did. I bet you never raised your voice,” Tenko says. You look up, offended. “You probably sounded like some kind of evil shrink, telling him what a piece of shit he is and how you understand that he can’t help being an asshole but it would probably be best for everybody if he took a long walk off a short ledge –”

He’s mimicking the soft, semi-conciliatory tone you use when you’re trying to de-escalate a situation, looking at you from behind the hand with a smirk on his face. You’d get mad, except it’s a pretty accurate imitation, and you like the thought that he knows you well enough to pick on you like this. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about getting really mad. Really losing control. When’s the last time you did that?”

You can’t remember. You shrug helplessly. Tenko heaves an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a good thing we’re playing Call of Duty next. If getting your ass kicked in a video game can’t wind you up, nothing will.”

It’s been a while since you played an actual video game. You were bad at it then, and you’re really bad at it now. Tenko makes you play a round in single-player mode to see what you’re good at and where you’re weak, and he spends the entire time laughing so hard that you’re worried he’s going to dislocate a rib or fall off the couch. It takes you way too long to hide away from the enemies onscreen long enough to ask Tenko a question. “What’s so funny? I know I’m not doing it right –”

“You’re just –” Tenko wheezes, then makes an effort to get it together. “Up here in the corner of your display is the map. The dot is where you are. And then everything in front of you is your point of view. That’s why it’s called a first-person shooter.”

“I know,” you say. “The display –”

“You control that on this side of the controller. And that’s where your trigger is, too. The other side handles motion,” Tenko says. His shoulders are twitching, like they do when he’s trying to hold in his laughter. “I’ll watch the map for you. Just go where I tell you to go.”

“Okay.” You adjust your grip on the controller and prepare to be humiliated.

Tenko directs you to move straight forward, which you do. Then you make a left turn and jump up on a crate for a better firing angle, at which point someone shoots at you. “Shoot back,” Tenko orders. You press the trigger. “Nice work. Okay, now jump off the crate and –”

You jump off the crate as requested, but then you get your buttons jumbled, and instead of running in the direction Tenko told you to run, you find yourself bumping into the wall repeatedly with your viewpoint stuck directly upwards. “Tenko –”

Tenko is howling with laughter again. The hand dislodges and falls off his face, and you see his eyes crinkling at the corners, his smile just a little too big. Some girls in your class said his smile was creepy, but you always liked it. You liked that you always knew which of his smiles were faked and which weren’t. “I’m stuck,” you say, and he laughs even harder. “What did I do?”

“If you were doing what your character is doing right now, you’d be doing this.” Tenko mimics pointing a gun straight up at the sky, and suddenly you get why he’s laughing. “You’ve been running around like this –”

No wonder you keep running into walls. Now you’re laughing, too. “You weren’t kidding,” Tenko says, shaking his head. “You really are terrible at it.”

You set the controller aside and wipe your eyes. “You sure you don’t want a different sidekick?”

“I have the sidekick I want.” Tenko glances at you, almost shyly. “We’ll need allies, though. I want you to meet them.”

Your stomach lurches. “Do you have them already?”

“One of the brokers is bringing them. He finds them through the black market.” Tenko sets the controller back down in your hands, adjusting your fingers to the right buttons. Then he unpauses the game. “Once I have them all – go right. No, your other right. Once I have them all, I want you to meet them. I need them to work together, and to stay calm instead of fighting each other. You’re good at getting people to do that. Watch out, there are – nice work.”

He’s giving you a strange look. “What?” you ask. “I didn’t get killed yet.”

“You’re better at shooting people than running around. That’s weird.” Tenko’s expression stays odd for another moment; then he grins. “Works for me, though. As long as you don’t mess with your viewpoint too much, we can play together.”

“Works for me.” You’re still going to be pretty useless, but at least you can protect Tenko’s back. That’s more than you’d be able to do in a real fight. The thought kicks off a flood of anxiety, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself speaking out loud. “Tenko –”

He pauses the game mid-switch to co-op mode. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know if I can help you the way you need me to,” you say. He gives you a skeptical look. “Medical stuff is one thing. I’m good at that. If your allies need help with that, I’ll help them, too. But the rest of it, I’m not – planning, getting people to follow you –”

“I can do that part. But villains fight all the time. Like kids do,” Tenko says. He smiles slightly. “If you can handle me, they’ll be easy for you.”

“But I know you,” you say. “It’s different.”

“So you’ll get to know them, too.” Tenko’s confident, just like you remember him being. Once he’s decided how something will be, it’s hard to shake him. “Come on. Let’s clear this level.”

It’s an easy level, or you think it’s supposed to be. You spend most of your time running backwards, keeping one eye on the map so you don’t lose track of Tenko and the other eye out for enemies of any kind. On reflection, you do think your accuracy with shooting is a little weird. Between this level and the next one, you rack up a decent number of kills. “You’re already getting better,” Tenko says, grinning. “I bet we can beat this thing if we keep playing.”

“I’d like that,” you say – but you’re still thinking about Tenko’s semi-crazy idea that you meet a bunch of villains for crowd control. “About the allies – you trust me, but they won’t have any reason to. I’m still a civilian.”

“You’ll need a disguise,” Tenko says, which wasn’t what you were hoping he’d say. “Something that hides your face. “If any of them have a problem with you, they can take it up with me.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The idea of Tenko getting into it with other villains over you makes you feel sick. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I don’t want you to get hurt at all. You’re my best friend.”

“I’m not your boss,” Tenko says, which doesn’t make any sense. Your confusion must show on your face, because Tenko elaborates. “Earlier. You said sidekicks don’t run from their bosses, but I’m not your boss. I don’t want to be your boss. I want –”

He breaks off, clearly struggling with what to say. There’s a patchy flush coming up in his cheeks, and you see his hand rise, twitch toward his neck – then fall back. “I don’t want to be your boss,” he says again, looking everywhere but into your eyes. “I want – you should –”

“Shigaraki Tomura.” Kurogiri’s voice issues from behind you, and you and Tenko both jump. “Your master wishes to speak with you. You are overdue.”

“Shit,” Tenko mutters. His grip on the controller tightens, and you lift it out of his hands before all five fingers can touch it. “Where’s – I need –”

“Here.” You pick up the hand from the floor and pass it to him, feeling a chill go down your spine as you touch it. “Go talk to him. It’s okay.”

“I’m late. It isn’t.” Tenko settles the hand back over his face. His free hand rises again, clawing at the side of his neck, and something about the image, the situation, feels uncomfortably familiar to you. “I’ll send Kurogiri to get you again soon. For another date.”

“This was a date?”

“Of course it was.” Tenko gets up, heads for the door. “Remember. Find a disguise. I’ll see you soon.”

He’s gone, and a second later, so are you – Kurogiri drops you in an alley off the street you were walking on. He lingers for a moment, and the question explodes out of you. “It was a date?”

“I told him it’s not a date unless both people know it’s a date.” Kurogiri looks vaguely uncomfortable, and his voice is in the other register – the one that sounds more like an older brother than a servant. “Next time I’ll tell him I can’t find you.”

“Don’t do that,” you say at once. Even reeling like you are now, you’re sure that you want to see Tenko again. “Just – warn me, if you can. If it’s a date or something else.”

“I can do that.” Kurogiri vanishes, but his voice lingers for a moment more. “You protect him, too.”

What does that mean? Maybe it means that Kurogiri sees you like he sees himself – a protector of Shigaraki Tomura, although if there’s anyone you’re trying to protect, it’s Shimura Tenko, your best friend. Your best friend, who’s in a lot more trouble than you thought he was.

You’re standing in the middle of an alley. You need to get moving before someone peeks in here and starts asking questions. You slide your phone out of your pocket, raise it to your ear, and lower it as you step back out into the flow of traffic on the sidewalk, like you were taking a call that just ended. Your apartment’s not far away, so you’ll get there, and then you can think about all of this. The villains – the date – the scars on Tenko’s arm that look too much like yours – the scratching that didn’t start until after the hand covered his face. The hand he calls Father.

And that’s when you realize what it reminded you of, what happened when Kurogiri told Tenko his master was waiting for him. He was himself when you spoke to him, even after he put the hand back over his face – right down to how he reacted when his master called for him. Because his reaction looked the same as his reaction to his father calling for him when the two of you were kids.

You had a bad feeling about Tenko’s master, and now it’s worse. You have a bad feeling about what your involvement with Tenko means now, because he wants you to back him up when it comes to dealing with other villains, to take the de-escalation and conflict resolution skills you learned the hard way and put them to use keeping a band of villains together under Tenko’s control. You have a bad feeling because Tenko’s told you to find a disguise, to hide your identity like the villain you aren’t. You aren’t a villain. Are you?

Maybe you aren’t a villain – yet, a voice in your head whispers, you aren’t a villain yet – but there’s something wrong with you. There must be. Because knowing all that, knowing that you’re getting drawn further into Tenko’s plans, doesn’t do a thing to dampen your excitement at the thought that he wants to go on dates with you. That he likes you. That your best friend, who you always thought you’d have developed a crush on if the two of you had gotten to grow up together, might feel the same about you as you do about him.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #x reader #self insert #reader insert #please hold

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 1 year

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Being Ahsoka Tano’s best friend would include

Pairings: Ahsoka Tano x reader

Imagine: being Obi-Wan’s padawan and Ahsoka’s best friend

Warnings: idk, Ahsoka leaving the order (I swear I can’t watch those episodes bc I cry every damn time, not because she’s leaving the order but bc she leaves people who care for her)

A/N I love Ahsoka and it’s a wonder I haven’t written anything for her before, but here I am writing for my fav girl so I hope someone out there will enjoy this <3

Becoming friends as soon as you both met, which was when you were still in training to become a padawan, which means you grew up with each other

You’d study with eachother

Hype eachother up if one of you is feeling sad or stressed, literally just helping eachother with emotions and anything in general

Ahsoka running to you filled with excitement to tell you she’s becoming a padawan and her master will be the one and only Anakin Skywalker

You doing the same to Ahsoka when you found out your master will be the one and only Obi-Wan Kenobi

Gossiping with each other

Getting in trouble together

Pranking people together with Fives, Waxer, Boil and a few others, you tried once to prank Cody, lesson learned you will never prank Cody again, he wasn’t to happy to have his helmet filled with blue and orange glitter (he still can find glitter to this day)

Obi-Wan now has to deal with three children (you, Anakin and Ahsoka) while Cody has to deal with more than five children (You, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Waxer, Boil…)

Did I mention getting in trouble together

Being another headache for the Jedi council and those who tries to protect you both and those trying to keep you out of trouble

Training your lightsaber skills with each other, being an excellent match because you always end up even because by know you know every move the other will make

Calling each other names that you hate just for the fun of it

If anyone else were to call either you or Ahsoka those names you would both go into protective mood, no one gets to call you two that but you two

Always defending and protecting each other, if it is when you get in trouble with the council or when you fight for example General Grievous doesn’t matter

I hate to write it down but sadly I think I need too after all it is a big part of Ahsoka’s life. When Ahsoka gets accused of the bombing I believe you would 100% side with her, you’re best fiends siblings after all and you always have each others backs. You try to help her prove her innocence but it didn’t go exactly as planned. We all know what happens and so when she decided to leave you were heartbroken, you couldn’t care less about the order you only cared about Ahsoka. You knew it was what she wanted so you let her go but you were still sad over it, and selfishly tried to convince her to stay because you didn’t want to be without her, after all you were practically siblings and grew up with each other. In the end she told you it was for the best and that she didn’t trust the order anymore, she’d always trust you and she did try to keep in contact with you but it was hard with the ongoing war

Then comes the times in the order without Ahsoka, and if I’m being honest I think you would kinda mope around when you thought no one was looking becasue you missed your best friend so much, your bad days become even worse because you didn’t have Ahsoka to cheer you up, but you managed as did Ahsoka who missed you as much as you missed her

I believe Obi-Wan would do his best to comfort you even though he knew as well as you that it would never be the same as Ahsoka comforting you and cheering you up, but he did his best, and that’s all you could of asked for

Anakin and you probably talked about Ahsoka a lot with eachother or avoided the topic all together

However Plo Koon talked to you about Ahsoka all the time

Skip to Ahsoka coming back with Bo-Katan to save Mandalore from Maul (why does autocorrect keep wanting to change his name to Mail), you convinced your master to let you come with Ahsoka, and so a new adventure started for the two of you

Then there’s order 66 and you, Ahsoka and Rex barely escaped

You and Ahsoka stuck together after that never leaving each other sides scared you would lose eachother again let’s not forget you got frequent calls from Rex and Obi-Wan talked to you sometimes through the force (but not much he was in hiding after all and so were you)

#x reader #x teen #x teen!reader #x you #star wars #Ahsoka Tano x reader #ahsoka tano x fem!reader #Ahsoka Tano x male!reader #Ahsoka Tano x gn!reader #Star Wars x reader #star wars the clone wars #Ahsoka Tano #Ahsoka Tano headcanon #headcanon #star wars headcanon #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader

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swordfright · 7 months

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I want to know about the ouroboros AUs very badly

The amount of words I'm about to type is gonna make me look INSANE but in my defense I had to think about this every day for like a YEAR OKAY.

Island AU Spiderette AU: This AU operates on the premise that the Vault considers any structure c!Sam builds with the intent to imprison someone as an extension of Pandora — an extra limb. In Ouroboros, Sam was planning to kidnap Michael and keep him at the island house in order to lure Ranboo to the prison (as in canon), but he doesn’t have a chance to actually go through with that plan because he gets distracted by, y’know, Pandora becoming a sentient eldritch horror. So basically, Island AU diverges from Ouroboros in the final chapter. When Dream fakes a suicide attempt to force the Vault to spit him and Sam out, Pandora doesn’t dump them in the prison lobby…it dumps them in Sam’s island house. Essentially, the Vault considers that house (which Sam intended to keep Michael in, ostensibly as a hostage) to be a type of prison, and thus, an extension of Pandora’s Vault. So, Sam takes the only course of action that makes sense to him: he treats Dream’s injuries and officially incarcerates him in the island house. It’s supposed to be temporary, but after a while Sam is resigned to the possibility that he may never return Dream to Pandora Proper. And y’know what? This is fine! This is fine, actually. Dream is still his prisoner, Sam can still be warden here.

In the beginning, the situation is very similar to his and Dream’s dynamic in Pandora. Sam keeps Dream in the little room meant for Michael. The house isn’t really set up for full-on incarceration, so Sam has to make modifications. He can’t exactly install a lava chamber, but he adds chains to the walls so he can keep the prisoner secure. Michael’s room doesn’t have space to add a desk or a cauldron or a toilet, so Dream must be permitted to leave a couple times a day. Dream moves around the house with Sam’s permission and occasionally helps with chores/maintenance/daily tasks (a freedom which Sam justifies as “prison labor” lmfao)

After a while, the two of them fall into a bizarre domesticity: they are essentially cohabiting, but Dream is still Sam’s prisoner and Sam is still Dream’s warden. It’s weird. It’s tense and awful, but it’s also kind of okay sometimes, compared to the prison. Dream eventually hatches a plan to escape, but things get complicated. Honestly, a lot of the “plot” for this AU hinges on the idea of Pandora’s sentience, and the fact that people in-the-know can basically fast-travel between buildings on the server as long as those buildings are limbs of Pandora. It gets very technical so I won’t bore y’all with all that.

Ouroboros Extended Cut AU: In this AU, c!Dream does not attempt to fake his own suicide in order to force Pandora to release him, as he does in Ouroboros. The idea occurs to him, but he has extreme reservations about actually going through with it: what if the plan works too well and he actually kills himself? These reservations aren’t unfounded, given the intense anxieties he has surrounding death in canon. Sam can’t revive him because he has not given Sam the book. So basically, Sam and Dream spend way, way, wayyyy longer trapped inside the prison. I’m talking at least another year or two. And the longer they spend there, the weirder shit gets. This AU leans really heavily into the horror elements of Ouroboros. Dream eventually figures out how to communicate effectively with the Vault. Sam also communicates with the Vault, but far less effectively because he’s Sam and he fucking sucks. There’s plenty of bizarre space-time continuum stuff. Also, the prison gets really good at recreating illusions of people who have spent a lot of time in the Vault in the past. The strongest illusions are capable of speech and sometimes even conversation, though they appear to have a limited variety of possible responses. Quackity is one of those people, but it’s Tommy’s illusion that’s the strongest because he wasn’t just resurrected inside Pandora (like Ghostbur), he actually died there as well.

As things get more horrifying inside the Vault, Sam and Dream become progressively more desensitized to that horror; it changes their dynamic somewhat, because they have to be pragmatic as hell if they want to make it out one day. The Vault wants to keep them alive, and yet is fundamentally hostile to living. Dream is allowed way more freedom (under Sam’s supervision) for reasons of mutual survival. He and Sam become more codependent. I probably will never write this AU down, but if I did, I’d want to incorporate a bunch of minecraft gameplay and environment elements from the big spooky 1.17 Caves & Cliffs update: the warden creatures, the ruins, the Deep Dark biome, the skulk, etc.

Timewarp AU: One of the big decisions I had to make when writing Ouroboros was whether time inside the prison should pass at the same rate as time passes outside the prison. If you’ve read the fic, you know that time inside the Vault passes slower after the prison gains sentience, so Sam and Dream spend months in there but only a few days have passed in the outside world. However, if I’d decided to have time pass in the prison at the same rate it passes on the rest of the server, that would mean Dream completely misses Techno’s rescue. In this AU, Techno shows up on 11/28 to break Dream out and finds the prison seemingly abandoned. After having a thorough look around, he leaves. His thought process: Dream must’ve found some other way to escape! Makes sense! If escape was possible, why would he wait for Techno?

Because of this, when Dream pulls his fake suicide stunt and forces the Vault to spit them out, his incarceration continues as normal because he missed the jailbreak. Ngl, this AU is pretty bleak because Dream is alone and locked up for a much longer period than in canon. (I actually ended up NOT going with this option when writing Ouroboros because my good friend aaron ringenthusiast told me very plainly that any version of events where Dream misses Techno’s big rescue was too depressing to contemplate!)

Eventually the Syndicate get suspicious, of course. It’s been over six months since the failed jailbreak and if Dream really did escape prior to that, it’s weird that he hasn’t tried to contact Techno or reach out to any other Syndicate members…right? Eventually, Phil and Techno are contacted by Punz, who’s forced to out themself as Dream’s ally because they haven’t heard from Dream in an alarming amount of time and are frankly confused. Tbh, I haven’t decided where this AU goes after that, but I think it’d be neat if Dream still gets rescued or maybe even escapes Pandora by himself somehow. I'm fond of stories where Dream is ultimately the one to save himself.

The final AU is Amnesia Island. It’s similar to Island AU Spiderette in that after the events of Ouroboros, Sam manages to move Dream from Pandora onto his island and imprisons him there. However, Dream is in really bad shape. In this version of events, his suicide fake-out was unsuccessful in that he accidentally does kill himself. The Vault still spits them out, but the blood transfusion comes too late and it looks like Dream is actually gonna die – bummer! That’s not what either of them wanted! Luckily, Sam has a secret: he’s already created a clone of Dream’s body (without his consent or knowledge, because of course.) So when Sam realizes Dream is gonna die FR fr, he uses the power of (canonical!) cool awesome unethical science to transfer Dream’s mind to the new body just before Dream dies. This all happens in the triage ward in Pandora. After the process is complete, he whisks his prisoner away to the island.

All should be well, theoretically. Except, uh oh! When Dream wakes up in his new body, he…isn’t Dream. At least, he isn’t Sam’s Dream. Something went wrong, either with the cloning process or the transfer of consciousness. New Dream has clearly got the same personality as old Dream, but minus the traumas he’s recently acquired. Huge chunks of his memory seem to be gone. He doesn’t recall who he is, who Sam is, L’Manberg, the Disc Saga, any of the events of the past couple years. It’s all gone.

Sam’s reaction to the amnesia is…messy. First, he doesn’t believe Dream, thinks he’s faking it. It takes an unpleasant interrogation to finally convince Sam that Dream really doesn’t remember anything. After denial comes anger: this version of Dream is both familiar and alien; he reminds Sam more of the man who built the Community House than the prisoner! Which means all the time and effort Sam spent conditioning the prisoner to fear him and respect him and obey him is wasted. Sam gave up parts of his soul for that deference, that submission. And now it’s just gone. He’s not happy about it. Next comes the bargaining, and finally, acceptance, or something that passes for acceptance until you hold it up to the light. According to Sam’s worldview, Dream is fundamentally corrupt. Even if amnesiac Dream doesn’t remember doing terrible things, he still did them, right? Which means Sam still has a responsibility to keep him locked up. The warden is still needed! This is a huge source of relief, since it preserves Sam’s self-concept.

Only…the situation is a bit more convoluted now. No version of Dream is innocent in Sam’s eyes, which means amnesiac Dream cannot be innocent. But the amnesia complicates things. For one, this Dream doesn’t have nearly as many reasons to fear and hate Sam, which means he’s openly affectionate — helpful, even. Sam appreciates that, and his appreciation throws a wrench in his plan to reincarcerate the prisoner. This is post-Ouroboros Sam, so he is aware on some level that he loves Dream, though he perceives that love as an unforgivable weakness. Not to mention he and Dream have been sleeping together for months and Sam misses that. Given these compounding factors, Sam opts not to punish Dream as frequently or as harshly as he did when they were in Pandora. It’s not that he regrets his former treatment of Dream (after all, Sam has never had any qualms about treating a lover sternly, has he?) but he does have a vested interest in encouraging Dream’s affection. He wants Dream to be obedient, and obedience is an easier thing to offer when you think you’re in love. So Sam does what he has to: he lies.

He doesn’t exactly tell Dream the two of them are married, not quite, but it’s heavily implied. Sam does everything he can to avoid verbally defining their relationship in such clear terms, while simultaneously doing all he can to make Dream believe that the two of them are in an established, committed relationship. It’s not so far from the truth, Sam tells himself. After all, what is the relationship between warden and prisoner if not committed?

In short, their life together on the island is fucked upppp. The two of them cohabitate and eventually resume sleeping together. Dream is not allowed to leave the house without Sam’s supervision, and he’s never allowed near the shoreline under any circumstances. He’s not allowed to send or receive letters or communications of any kind. Dream’s also forbidden from touching or picking up weapons and tools, lest he use them to harm someone (or himself. Sam has nightmares about watching Dream stab himself in Ouroboros.) The list of rules goes on, and the consequences for breaking them are…varied and creative. Dream understands, on some level, that Sam hurts him, that being around Sam is frightening and stressful. But Sam is also his partner, a man Dream thinks he loves. A man he feels comfortable with, sometimes. Dream has been told in simple terms that he’s dangerous, that he needs the warden’s guidance in order to keep everyone else safe. Dream doesn’t remember who “everyone else” is, but he has no reason to wish them ill, whoever they are. So he’s also grateful, in that sense, that Sam is willing to help him not hurt people. It is a gratitude that Sam has manufactured entirely, but it’s a powerful force nonetheless.

So, in summary, they’re codependent as hell and their life together is scary and bad. Don’t worry, it gets better but first it gets worse. As time passes, Dream feels more and more often that the way Sam treats him is unfair, which is objectively true. He has misgivings, but with very few concrete memories to base them on, these misgivings don’t serve him particularly well. However, after about a year of island living, his memories do start to come back gradually. This creates problems. Sam is quite happy with their new arrangement, so Dream’s memories coming back is a nightmare scenario for him. When he begins to notice little clues, it makes him incredibly paranoid, which in turn causes him to act…rashly. There is one notable incident where a bird dies by accidentally flying smack into a window, as birds sometimes do. Dream calmly picks it up and steps around the back of the house to bury it in the garden. But when Sam comes to check on him a few minutes later, he finds the bird alive and flapping, as if it was never hurt. Dream tells Sam he doesn’t remember how he brought the bird back to life; he can’t explain it, he just knew. Sam doesn’t believe him. It’s a rough night.

Of all the AUs, Amnesia Island is probably the one that’s rotted my brain the worst. It's definitely the most detailed so I could probably go on about it forever, but this post is already way too long so I’ll conclude by adding that in none of these AUs does Dream ever cave and give Sam the revive book. He’s holding onto that motherfucker, always and forever. Amen.

#asks #ouroboros #snake fic AUs #cw abuse #cw self harm #not sure what else to tag but there's discussion of some pretty unsavory situations here! tread w caution #c!awesamdream

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ntls-24722 · 9 days

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Hi hello 👋 !!!

Just wonder….

Why did Nawi almost killed sindeer when she was a baby? and why does she hate her for exactly?and why did she got pissed when sindeer said that she is dating a woman ????what got her like that????(i’m sorry for this so many questions and I just got sooo interested in sindeer mom /bw ! Nawi looks like she got blood pressure)

Oh how I wonder….

Inshallah You have a good day🤗

No problem, because so am I!!

ACTUALLY, I'll explain ALL of the lore, but the reason why Nawi used to hate Sindeer to the point of almost killing her is because Sindeer was a product of incest.

Obviously, I was very hesitant to talk about this for a WHILE (over a month) due to the subject, but this is kinda the perfect time to. Not portrayed as sexual in any way, but TW/CW for the aforementioned incest and descriptions of gore below.

Nawi's family had left the village they were in to celebrate a marriage, only to come back and see that literally nothing was left - Their home was ambushed and pillaged by a fringe group of nomadic Debu and by the miracle of not being there they missed getting completely slaughtered. [this was the "genetic bottleneck" in the alt text that i was being purposefully vague about. It was way too early in my homo mousike ramblings to be dropping this]. So, Nawi's extended family wandered together with no home to call to, on dry savanna and no cliffsides that they were used to settling on, and many of them were dying out from the exertion and the dehydration - Even if they are in their stone age, they had settled down, and suddenly adopting nomadism is as hard for them as it would be for us, especially when you have no damn clue where you're going.

They decided to marry the younger ones off to eachother in order to have a chance of a legacy, and Nawi was paired with her brother, Okwi. It was traumatic, and over the course of a pregnancy + incubation that she already didn't want, she's noticing a lot of... really weird changes within the group. They had these two beliefs of "Everything bad happened because we took our eyes off of our home", and "The outside world is evil and cannot be trusted", both very volatile, and slowly turning them into a non-religious cult with an hierarchy and entourage of men (Okwi included, being the highest ranked) who were practically worshipped because they were bringing about the new generation and founded this new, less naive way of life, unlike how they were living before.

Nawi's watching this all, obviously weirded out. "Hey guys. Why are we worshipping this way of life. This was awful. There is no honor in what we had to do. This isn't a secret society, we just have no-one else." When Sindeer was born, Nawi could not have been any less disinterested with her, with the way Sindeer was kind of the embodiment of all this and how she was been the first generation to be born under this, and was completely neglectful of her.

The final straw for Nawi was when the rest of the group is planning Sindeer's marriage before she's even able to climb off of her back, paired with Okwi as an honor for being The First and in a misplaced rage, she almost killed Sindeer one night over it, trying to justify it as saving her from her fate.

Nawi failed, mostly because she didn't have the heart to decapitate a baby, but partially because she realized that Sindeer was the only one of her kids that survived, and if SHE died, then Nawi might be expected to make more. The latter realization was what mobilized her to leave the weird cult her family had become, not just for her, but for Sindeer too. She tries to pull a "I'm going to go out for milk" (water, in her case) on her entire family, but it was late and they made her husband go with her. Awful choice!

Nawi proceeded to crack his skull open and rummage around in the cranial space to turn his brain into soup, hoping that doing so would rob him of an afterlife. Following this, she booked it out of there with baby Sindeer on her back for them to discover the corpse of the highest ranking man in the morning.

Sindeer knows about absolutely none of this.

...On a MUCH lighter note though: Nawi was mad about Sindeer telling her that she dated women because she was TRULY UPSET that she didn't think of dating women first.

If Okwi wasn't indicative enough, Nawi's love life is abysmal and even after him, she seemed to be a magnet for truly rancid men. What's funny is that Nawi actually does start dating women after this, even though she's straight, and she's having a much better time. She completely swore off men, and talks about them like a vice that she's quit cold turkey on.

#ntls-24722 #homo mousike #Nawi #Sindeer #ask #tw incest #cw incest #incest cw #incest tw #tw inc*st #cw inc*st #...gore??????#Okwi

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mika-writes-fanfics · 1 year

Text

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, female/afab reader, healing quirk, aftermath of hideout raid

Author's Note: Okay a lot happens this chapter but bear with me, I’m speedrunning to the smut because I promised within 3 chapters and I’m trying to fucking deliver. I originally wanted to have reader also be teleported away with Bakugo since it would be closer to the canon, as AFO tp’d bakugo since Shiggy thought he was important. I went with this instead because the other idea did not translate well in writing. Waaaayy too much action for a fic, I’ll take a plot hole instead, thank you very much. You guys pick if you drink tea or coffee (if you drink neither I'm sorry lol). Anyways, rambling aside, I hope you enjoy

Word Count: 8.1K

Link to AO3

Chapter Eight: Pizza Delivery!

Dabi can tell you’re much more distant now, no doubt because of what Compress said, or rather, what the league had done. You try to hide your feelings behind a mask of neutrality, but Dabi is perceptive. He’s good at reading people, especially you. You’ve spent so much time around him and you’ve occupied so much space in his head that it’s become second nature for him to memorize your face. Besides the fact that he’s noticed your face is no longer as carefree, it’s easy to see how much differently you’re acting towards him. You heal his hands over without any comments and your touch doesn’t linger on him a moment longer than necessary. You’ve completely withdrawn from him, it seems.

“Let him out of the marble in a minute, we need time to prepare,” Shigaraki orders. “Kurogiri, get the stuff.”

Kurogiri nods and bows, leaving the room to fetch the required restraints. You watch in slight horror as he returns with a chair, hand restraints, and a full-body harness equipped with locks. They must really think this kid is a danger to them to go to those lengths. You weren’t even restrained like that when Shigaraki abducted you, but to be fair, your kidnapping was more spur of the moment and less planned out than this. If snatching this kid was the whole purpose of the mission, the LOV has been gearing up for at least a week. You remember hearing Magne say this plan will humiliate UA, and you know Shigaraki’s main goal is dismantling hero society. You’re not entirely sure how the two are connected, but there’s one thing you’re sure of: Shigaraki will use any methods necessary to achieve that goal.

You’re glad you finished healing Dabi when you did. Touching him after seeing the methods they intend to use on a child would confuse you more than you already are. You want to ask him just what the hell was he thinking, why did he even agree to this, and what methods would he stoop down to in order to achieve his own goals. You want to know, no, you need to know, as if understanding would make the hurt go away and would repair your now tainted view of him. This situation makes you realize how far you’ve fallen, how desensitized to their crimes you’ve become. Seeing the league’s humanity and domesticity has done a number on your mind. What part do you play in this? Are you helping them commit these atrocities? Or are you really just looking out for yourself? The questions and racing thoughts burn through your emotional energy. You feel so damn drained.

As confusing and depressing as your situation is right now, you have to ask yourself: What can you do right now? You don’t have the power to run away, to change their minds, to condemn their behavior, to break the kid out of captivity. But what you can do is heal the kid if he’s hurt, share with him what you’ve learned, and provide him with anything that could possibly be useful. If this kid has a fighting quirk, he has the best chance of getting out. If he manages to pull it off then maybe, just maybe, he could tell someone where you are. People aren’t looking for you because it looked like you either disappeared into thin air or ran off entirely without telling anyone. If the authorities know where to look and who you’re with, it’s possible you can get out sooner. The moral dilemmas will come after you’ve made it out, but not a moment sooner. Carrying on is all you can do besides give the kid all the tools to escape.

While you’re in your own head rationalizing everything, Dabi takes notice of you. He sees the gears turning in your head and the expressions of sadness that accompany them. It wrenches his chest, a bit, to see you so despondent and to experience you acting so distant. He’s grown used to the banter you share. Your laughs, smiles, and mischievous expressions have become simple pleasures he looks forward to after a long day of tainting his hands and staining his soul. All good things must come to an end, he’s especially cognizant of that fact of life. Still, it stings to know the good slice of his life that is you will be ripped away from him so soon. He convinces himself it’s for the best. Growing closer to you is a distraction from his life’s purpose. Losing you is part of the price tag that comes with buying into revenge.

The two of you are stirred out of your thoughts upon Kurogiri setting everything up under Shigaraki’s orders. The chair is placed on the opposite side of the room, far away from everyone else. With all the restraints weaved through the chair legs and backrest, it won’t be easy for this kid to just break free of the bindings. Shigaraki gives the go-ahead, allowing Compress to release his quirk. The kid emerges from the marble and lays out on the floor, unconscious. Seeing the kid completely unresponsive makes you sick. Intrusive thoughts make you picture this poor kid getting knocked out before his abduction, which only worsens your spiraling mind.

“Well that’s definitely Bakugo Katsuki,” Shigaraki comments. “Why’s he knocked out though? I told you all to not harm the target.”

“Looks like he fell asleep in that marble,” Compress reasons. “He was unharmed when he went in, but he’s been compressed for an hour or two. I suspect he was bored in there.” You find yourself feeling somewhat relieved upon hearing this information.

“I guess this is to our benefit. He’ll be easier to restrain this way,” Shigaraki settles. “Kurogiri, you do it. If he wakes up, you know what to do.” Kurogiri follows his orders and gently places Bakugo in the chair, clasping all the restraints around him. It’s kind of amazing how he’s able to sleep through it all.

‘This kid is one hell of a heavy sleeper,’ you think.

“Since he’s still asleep, we’ll go over what happens next,” Shigaraki announces.

“Should we really do this in earshot of him? If he wakes up, he’ll hear everything,” Dabi criticizes.

“Well we can’t just leave him alone,” Shigaraki refutes.

“Look at him, do you really think he’ll be able to get out of that?” Dabi points out. Shigaraki seems to consider the idea, though he doesn’t budge quite yet. “It’s your call, but I think this is stupid either way.”

“Fine! We’ll talk about it in the kitchen,” Shigaraki throws his hands up and relents. The rest of the league files out of the room. You’re about to follow before Shigaraki singles you out. “And you,” he points at you. “Go to your room.”

“Me? What did I do?” You ask, incredulously. Somehow this feels like a punishment.

“I’m not risking you breaking out the kid and ruining my plans while we’re busy,” he justifies. “You’re going upstairs.”

“Okay mom, how long am I grounded for then?”

“Until I say so. Go fuck off to your room, now,” he warns, crimson eyes glaring at you in annoyance. His tone and choice of words let you know he’s in no mood for your antics or sarcasm today. Shigaraki seems tense. This plan of his is evidently high stakes, but so is yours. You take the warning and head up the stairs, pretending to go into your room. Your feet stop just short of the top of the stairs, carefully peering around the corner and listening out.

Shigaraki pulls them all to another room to start discussing the plan, detailing the reason why he asked for Bakugo’s kidnapping. You’re ever thankful that the league tends to be loud as it makes your intentions much easier to pull off. You slip past the door and carefully tiptoe to the kid. Your luck must finally be turning, as you see the kid slowly start to regain consciousness. He blinks a few times, carmine eyes adjusting to the light. You see a flash of panic on his face upon seeing the new environment and feeling the restraints constricting his body.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. Did they hurt you?” You whisper, expressing your condolences. He seems to be a fiery kid, as his face twists in a sneer.

“Get the fuck away from me, wench,” the blonde kid bites. You back up and raise your arms, despite the fact he’s completely tied to a chair. You’re starting to see the intimidation factor that seems to surround this kid.

“Woah there, I’m like you, kid. I don’t want to be here either, they kidnapped me too,” you negotiate carefully.

“So what, you just decided to fight for them after they kidnapped you? That’s pretty pathetic if you ask me,” he insults. Your eyebrow twitches. You’re trying to help him, does this kid really need to rub salt in the wound?

“One, I didn’t ask you. Two, I can’t fight, I’m here because of my healing quirk. And three, I’m trying to help you,” you lecture.

“Oh,” he says, in a rather small voice. It’s clear the kid is at least a little ashamed of his outburst.

“Yeah, jump to conclusions much?” You sass. You try to reign in your exasperation and approach the situation gently. “Now, one more time, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, they barely even scratched me. Though that one stapled guy had a death grip on my neck,” he complains. Your heart drops at the revelation.

“Sounds like Dabi,” you inform, trying to cover up your saddened tone. You push your emotions to the side and focus on helping the kid. A quick visual pass over his neck doesn’t reveal any injuries, thankfully. “I don’t see any bruises, so it looks like you’re okay.”

“How long have you been here?” He asks. You can almost detect the faintest bit of sympathy in his voice.

“You know, now that you mention it… I’ve kinda lost track,” you say somberly. “But that doesn’t matter right now. Do you know if your friends or teachers see it happen? If they know why you’re gone and who took you, they’re probably already looking for you as we speak.”

“Oh they saw everything alright,” he snorts. You’re surprised at that, you would have figured with all the sneaky quirks up their sleeve that the LOV would have done this stealthily. Though, remembering how Magne remarked that this plan was supposed to humiliate UA, which you’ve come to realize is a school, makes you see that stealth was never the point.

“I have a feeling the heroes will at least try to rescue you, but if you have a strong quirk, you might be able to make your own way,” you explain. “But listen to me, do not brute force an escape. Take the opportunity if it presents itself, but don’t put yourself in danger. If you get out and I don’t, keep going. You can just tell the heroes where I am.”

“Like I’d leave a civilian with them. I wouldn’t be a hero-in-training if I just left you here. We’ll break out of here and pummel those bastards, I promise!” he says with conviction. His spitfire personality grows on you a bit in that moment. Even though he was a little rude to you at first, you still want to help him any way you can. You fill him in on what you’ve learned about the league, mostly giving him information about all their quirks and potential weaknesses. The league’s chatter in the other room seems to slowly die down. With the remaining time you have, you warn him not to attack and that subtly is safer, to which he seems incredibly appalled by.

“I’m not much of a faker,” he says with pride. “I make my own opening, my way.”

“We’ll talk about why that’s such a terrible idea later, I gotta go back before they notice,” You hurriedly advise. “You gotta pretend you didn’t see me, alright? I wasn’t supposed to be down here with you.” He gives you an understanding nod and you take the chance to scurry away. You’re actually thankful you’ve been at the league’s base for so long, as you’ve recognized which floorboards creak the most and which path is the quietest. You slip away and head to your room, unnoticed. It’s incredibly lucky that you haven’t been caught scheming. Your ears strain to pick up on everyone’s footfalls until the sounds become more clear, before eventually stopping entirely. It seems they’re done with the debriefing process and are back in the bar.

“Y/n! Shigaraki said you’re not grounded anymore!” Toga calls out. You don’t hesitate to take the opportunity and you head downstairs, joining the others. Everyone seems to be staring at Bakugo in either anticipation or caution. They seem to avoid getting near his space, as evident by the distance between Bakugo and the others. The atmosphere is incredibly tense, no doubt due to the seething expression on Bakugo’s face. An uneasy silence settles in the room. Even the more talkative members of the LOV refrain from talking. Shigaraki is the one to speak first, breaking the silence and establishing his control over the situation.

“Dabi, take off his restraints,” Shigaraki commands.

“You know he’s just going to try to fight us, right?” Dabi asks, doubtful of his leader’s plan.

“It’s fine, if we’re scouting him, we need to treat him like equals,” Shigaraki dismisses. Shigaraki’s words fail to convince him.

Dabi looks at the kid, sizing him up. He must not like what he sees as he offloads the responsibility onto Twice. “Twice, you do it.”

“Why me?!” Twice exclaims. Even he doesn’t seem too thrilled about the idea.

“Just do it,” Dabi insists, exasperated by Twice’s hesitance.

“No way,” Twice denies with exaggerated gestures, before dropping the resistance entirely. Twice ends up walking over to Bakugo and unlocking all the restraints. You try to shoot him a look as a reminder about what the two of you secretly discussed: don’t be stupid and do something obvious. The warning is lost on the kid as he ignores your intense gaze and lunges for Shigaraki. An explosion hits the leader in the face, clouding him in a bit of smoke. The kid quickly backs away from Shigaraki’s space, taking advantage of the initial shock.

You stare at Bakugo, dumbfounded, with an expression that can only communicate, ‘What the fuck are you doing?!’

You feel yourself sweating out of stress. Shigaraki seems completely stunned, but despite his initial lack of reaction, you find yourself growing anxious upon realizing that his hand mask is on the floor. You’ve never seen him take it off. He’s gotta be especially protective over that thing. Bakugo seems to be eyeing the situation, eyes darting back and forth between everyone, clearly cooking up a plan to escape. It’s then you realized you forgot to tell him all the doors are locked. You feel a dawning horror invade your emotions. This is going terribly and you can’t help but feel it’s all your fault.

To your surprise, Shigaraki doesn’t respond with malice. Rather, he commands for everyone to leave the kid unharmed. He specifically instructs Compress and Kurogiri to put him back to sleep. The mercy the LOV leader is showing is incredibly unlike him, but welcome nonetheless. Shigaraki’s orders make you release the breath you were holding and relax. Still, you don’t tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding, staying alert in case you can help the kid out in some way. Compress carefully begins to approach Bakugo. The kid sizes up the situation and seems to brace himself for the chance he could dodge Compress.

A knock on the door makes everyone halt in their places, momentarily pausing the confrontation. “Pizza delivery!” A voice says from behind the door. The league members look at each other in skepticism.

“Did one of you idiots order a fucking pizza, I swear to god-“ Shigaraki questions, cut off by a loud crash that sounds off to the right of them. You turn to look, seeing the wall blown in by people donned in capes and bodysuits. The sight makes you want to cry in relief. It’s the heroes, the two of you are saved. You even see All Might amongst the heroes, the man who’s known internationally for being the unbeatable symbol of peace. You just hope that All Might remains unstoppable in the face of the League of Villains. The heroes don’t hesitate a second longer, as everyone springs into action. Tree branches reach for all the villains, ensnaring everyone, including you. It's then you realize how your situation must look from the outside. The heroes think you’re a villain.

Fuck.

How do you convince them you’re not a threat when there’s not even time for you to speak?

A flash of blue fire erupts from Dabi’s head. If the heroes don’t neutralize his quirk, he’ll definitely burn the branches restraining you all until nothing remains but ash. You were hopeful you’d get out of here, but you’re feeling doubtful now. The situation is incredibly hectic and ever-changing. A flash of yellow zooms past you, moving far too fast for your eyes to fully comprehend. When you turn your head, you catch sight of an old man in a yellow cape kicking Dabi on the back of the head. Dabi’s eyes seem to roll back and he slumps forward into the branches. The scene makes you absolutely dumbstruck. Dabi is knocked out cold.

With Dabi ‘dispatched’, his flames are no longer an issue. The only blaring issue that remains to you is figuring out how to convince the heroes you aren’t a criminal. You’re not really given an opportunity, as All Might’s booms over yours. The sheer volume of his voice commands the room, there’s no way you can speak over him. All Might is completely focused on Bakugo, fussing over him like a concerned parent. They have a quick, heart-to-heart conversation, something about how terrifying it must have been for Bakugo to handle this on his own. Even in such a sincere moment, Bakugo’s personality shines through, as he vehemently denies ever feeling scared at all. The heroes are gloating as Shigaraki seethes at the scene, twitching from rage. You swear your eyes catch sight of something in the air, some red string that keeps catching the light. You’re straining to see what it is when the thread thickens. A face emerges from the thread, startling you. You’d jump on the spot if you weren’t completely immobilized.

“Oh? Who’s this? It appears our intel failed to find out a new villain joined their ranks,” the face muses. You open your mouth to counter his accusation, but you’re beaten to the point.

“Edgeshot, she’s not a villain!” Bakugo yells. “She’s just a civilian.”

“Not only did you abduct my pupil, but a civilian too?” All Might condemns, before confidently continuing. “It’s over. The childish pranks end now.”

All Might’s words must have enraged Shigaraki and pulled him out of his stunned stupor. Shigaraki shouts orders at Kurogiri to open up a warp gate, but the heroes have thought ahead. Kurogiri is pierced through the abdomen by who you understand is the hero Edgeshot, and promptly slumps over, Kurogiri’s body seemingly completely limp. You’re aghast in horror until the hero reappears from the thread and claims to have merely put him to sleep. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster, with constant ups and downs, getting scared and worried just to feel slightly more at ease before the cycle happens again.

All Might seems to ask Shigaraki a question, something that seems important to the heroes, but you don’t pay it any mind. You can’t seem to focus on their conversation. Something just seems off. It appears there’s something in certain spots of the air that distorts, rippling in a way that’s reminiscent of water. You know it’s not the thread hero again, as he’s already materialized. These distortions are much different anyways. It’s almost like a dark spot is appearing, floating in space. Your suspicions are confirmed as black ooze seems to drip down out of thin air. The viscous mixture seems to grow in size as it pours down until you see pale limbs reaching out. Strange, humanoid beings come out of the sludge. Several of them have their brains exposed and completely uncovered by a skull. You feel sick just at the sight of something so unnatural and grotesque. What the hell are these things?

Whatever summoned these creatures takes advantage of the chaos. Black sludge erupts from the mouths of all LOV members. It encases the villains in a shroud of darkness and their bodies disappear into the inky depths, without a trace and leaving behind empty space where they were once restrained by branches. Bakugo seems to have been transported out of the room as well. His disappearance causes All Might to frantically yell upon failing to grab him. You’re shocked to see the hero look so caught off guard and genuinely emotional. He’s always been known to smile even in the face of danger. The fact he’s so openly shouting in distress is more than alarming.

You’re even more taken aback when you see the creatures begin to lunge for the heroes, forcing All Might and the rest to fight back. It’s clear to you that whatever the hell these monsters are, they’re far from friendly and they are numerous. The creatures seem to be even outside of the bar, as evident by the shrills of terror. It sounds terrible out there, you can hear screams, bullets, and the sound of fighting.

As you watch the scene unfold, your eyes accidentally make eye contact with a monster. One seems to turn in your direction and hone in on you. Your wide eyes stare in horror at the creature as it rushes towards you. It leaps and lunges at you. You flinch and screw your eyes shut, unable to do anything else besides steel yourself for the inevitable. The wooden hero creates a wall of branches between you and the monster, blocking off its attack.

“There’s too many! Kamui, get her out of here!” You overhear Edgeshot shout. Kamui, who you’ve come to realize is the tree hero, follows Edgeshot’s orders. The branches pull you from the room and out from the gaping hole in the wall, away from the chaos and combat. You’re lifted onto a nearby roof, still tightly bound by Kamui’s quirk. He stands near the edge of the building, seemingly scanning the surroundings, probably looking for a safer place to deliver you. You look over the streets as well, seeing destruction everywhere you look. It’s clear there’s no escape from the turmoil just yet. You catch his heroic posture faltering, with his shoulders drooping ever so slightly. No words are shared between the two of you as you both wait for the conflict to die down, unable to tear your eyes away from the morbid scene.

Eventually, enough bullets are spent and enough blood has been shed, as the strange creatures are put down. Kamui makes the descent down from the roof with you in tow. You’re delivered in front of a flaming hero, with a permanent scowl on his face, conversing with a police officer. Their attention immediately snaps to you. The large, flaming man looks at you with disinterest, but the officer seems perplexed by you.

“And who is this supposed to be?” The hero grills Kamui.

“Don’t know, we saw her in the base with the League of Villains,” he answers. “Kid believes she’s a civilian.”

“Civilian, huh? That’s rich,” the flame hero scoffs. The hero turns his attention to the police officer and gives him an order. “Put the quirk cuffs on her, we’ll process her like any other villain until we have actual evidence saying otherwise.”

The police officer looks skeptical and doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, his eyes narrow at you and he looks at you with vague recognition. The hero takes notice of his hesitance and asks, clearly annoyed, “What’s the hold-up?”

“Endeavor, with all due respect, I don’t believe she is a villain,” the policeman objects.

“Don’t tell me even you are falling for this ruse,” the hero sneers. “She was surely a part of some plan to trick the student. She probably lied to him and posed as another victim in order to gain his trust.”

“I worked a case a while back. A University student went missing without a trace. She matches the description,” he informs. The hero, who you assume is named Endeavor, remains unconvinced. The officer sighs, and compromises, “Look, we could ask her some questions, and if her answers match, then she’s actually a civilian and telling the truth.” Endeavor seems to think it over, relenting upon seeing the officer’s determined expression.

“Fine, ask your stupid questions, but she’s going to Tartarus if her answers don’t check out. Mark my words,” Endeavor warns. The officer gives a curt nod and turns to you.

“What’s your first name?” He opens.

“Y/n,” you answer.

“And your quirk?”

“Healing skin.”

“Seems like her,” the officer gloats. Endeavor remains skeptical, as is evident with his narrowed eyes and mouth pressed in a scowl.

Endeavor counters the officer’s claim, “Couldn’t she be pretending to be your missing university student? If it was all over the news-”

“It wasn’t,” the officer interrupts. “So many people go missing in this district that one more hardly makes the news. It’s her, there’s not a doubt in my mind.”

“What were you doing with the League of Villains?” Endeavor interrogates. He seems incredibly suspicious of you. You suppose you can’t really blame him. Edgeshot assumed you were in cahoots with the league back at the hideout. From an outsider’s perspective, you really did look suspect. Still, you have an opportunity to clear your name. The most you can do is tell your story and hope they believe you.

“Shigaraki knocked me out when I ran into him one night. When I woke up, I realized I had been kidnapped,” you explain. “He liked my quirk and thought I’d be useful. If I didn’t heal the league like he asked, he said he’d disintegrate me.”

Endeavor lets out an exhausted sigh, before rubbing his temples with one hand. “Take her to HPSC headquarters. The commission is gonna want to hear about this,” he orders the officer.

Kamui takes this as a sign to unhand you. He finally releases you from his quirk’s hold, much to your relief. The officer speaks into the radio on his suit, updating the situation and requesting a squad car, before leading you away. He escorts you away from the aftermath of the raid, guiding you through the scattered piles of debris, until you arrive at the police car, parked on an intact street with another officer waiting expectantly outside. The additional police officer opens the door to the backseat for you and you climb in, after which she shuts it behind you. Sounds of sirens and yelling are muffled in the car, giving you a momentary respite from all the commotion and the ability to finally process what happened.

You sit in the back of the squad car, contemplating everything that has happened while staring out the window. Just a few hours ago, you were healing the league and even laughing with them. After you realized they kidnapped a kid and then the heroes broke down the wall, everything seemed to just crash down at once. Somehow, you developed a sort of camaraderie with the lot, despite not subscribing to their goals and actively wishing to be away from them. You adapted to it. Life with the league became your new normal. But what will your normal be now? You doubt your life can just rewind back to the way it was before you were kidnapped, not since you escaped the clutches of the league. Speaking of, would they come back for you? Would they punish you for escaping? Would you ever see him again? These are questions you never thought to ask all the times you were fantasizing about fleeing. Now that you’re here, the questions are unavoidable and unfortunately, without answers.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don't care to listen to the officers radioing their superiors. You only process that they started the car when you see the scenery whizzing by. The drive to headquarters is simultaneously overwhelming yet quiet. The officers haven’t spoken a word to you since loading you into the car, leaving you to drown in your own head.

You thought you’d be happy to see the outside again, but now that you’re here, it’s incredibly overstimulating. The lights are too bright, the buildings are too big, and the radio relaying updates is far too loud. Your hands ball up in your lap, knuckles turning white from your anxious clenching. You worry your time in captivity has ruined you, and the thought only serves to heighten your anxiety.

The car eventually rolls up to a large building and parks on the curb. One of the officers opens your car door after getting out herself, and you step out and onto the sidewalk. They both lead you into the building, where they freely walk into the lobby, filled with heroes coming and going. The receptionist doesn’t bother to stop the officers, instead giving them a look of recognition and an understanding nod. You all shuffle into an elevator and rise to the top floor. The ascent is silent until the elevator dings and the metal doors slide open. You all step out of the elevator and into a sort of waiting area, where a man with crimson red wings greets the officers. They exchange polite greetings all the while you stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do in the situation. The pupils in the hero’s yellow eyes seem to narrow to slits when they dart to you, sizing you up with interest.

“So this must be the little dove found at the hideout,” the feathered hero muses, as he looks at you.

“You’d be correct,” the officer confirms. “We’re supposed to escort Miss y/n to the Safety Commission President. Would you know where she is around now?”

“Don’t worry about it, I can take over from here. You two must have a mountain of paperwork after the Kamino raid, ” Hawks offers. They seem to be grateful for this, as you’re handed off to the bird-like hero. The police officers say their thanks before heading back down through the elevators, leaving you alone with yet another new person.

“The name’s Hawks. Nice to meet you, y/n,” he introduces, rather informally.

“Y-yeah, likewise,” you stutter, feeling a bit nervous in the company of a new stranger. “Um, Hawks?”

“Hmm?” He hums.

“Why am I here?”

“You’ve piqued the interest of some very important people,” he explains. You must look worried as he quickly adds, “They just want to know about what happened to you and what you know, that sort of thing.”

“I see…” you reply, voice trailing off.

You’re led through the halls and into a sort of conference room. Five strangers in formal business wear sit behind a slightly curved desk, arranged in a sort of panel. Hawks ushers you to the center of the room, leaving you to stand in front of them as he posts himself near the door. You’re not sure what is going on. Your palms start sweating from nervousness. It feels like you’re in a courtroom, on trial. One of the five people sitting behind the long table presses a button on what you assume is some sort of audio recording device. The questions feel endless, just one after another, all asking about the LOV. Over time, they seem less suspicious of you and your story, especially after explaining Shigaraki’s initial threats. The meeting, or rather, the interrogation ends with a question about Shigaraki and Dabi.

“Do you know their real names? We have reason to suspect their current identifiers are just monikers. Nothing is known of their real identities. Anything you know could be useful,” one of them explains. You shake your head.

“They never revealed their true names and I never cared to ask,” you inform. There’s a look of disappointment on her face before she shuts the recorder off.

“I see. That’s a shame,” she responds. “As a precautionary measure, we’ve arranged for you to be housed in a safe location, where you will stay until the League of Villains is captured. It’s unlikely they will try to find you given the severe blow the raid inflicted on them, but please, bear with us until then. We appreciate your cooperation.”

The door clicks open and you take that as your cue to leave, eagerly walking out with Hawks trailing behind you. You’re relieved for the process to finally be over. That damn interrogation was anxiety-inducing to say the least. Your apparent discomfort must be noticeable to Hawks, no doubt from your loud sighs, as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You alright?” Hawks asks. There’s this small hint of genuine concern in his voice, something you picked up on. From the interactions you’ve had with him, he always seems to have this sort of carefree and upbeat personality.

“I will be,” you offer. You rub at your eyes, feeling the effects of your hectic day wearing down your energy. “Some sleep would help. I’ll probably feel a bit better in the morning.”

“I hear ya,” he responds. “Come on, I’ll get you out of here so you can rest, follow me.” He notions to the elevators with a nod of his head in that direction, and proceeds to walk over. Hawks calls for the elevator and you follow him in when the doors open. He tucks his large wings closer to his body, so that they don’t take up as much space. You weren’t able to see he pushed the up button, so when the elevator rises to the roof access, revealing the night sky, you’re more than a little confused.

“I thought you were taking me out of here?” You ask.

“I am,” he responds, almost matter-of-factly.

“But why are we on the roof?”

“Why walk when you could fly?”

“Oh hell no,” you refuse.

“I’m fast, it’ll be over before you know it,” he bargains. “It’s more secure this way anyways. You can’t be followed as easily.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. Just… don’t drop me,” you relent, understanding his point.

“I wouldn’t be a very good hero if I let you fall,” he laughs. “You’ll be fine, hold on tight.”

He scoops you into his arms and you tightly cling to the fabric of his shirt. His wings flap, sending powerful gusts of wind, until you’re both lifted off the ground. The roof grows farther and farther away from you as he ascends into the sky. True to his words, he’s incredibly fast, as the skyscrapers seem to whizz by, almost blurring together. The experience is equal parts nerve-wracking, exhilarating, and freeing. It had been so long since you’d last seen the night sky, and now it feels like you’re seeing it much closer than ever before. Had you not been in the arms of a reliable hero, you’d be more scared-shitless and less naturally wary of this experience.

He eventually lands on the roof of what looks to be an apartment high-rise. Your legs feel wobbly from the adrenaline when he finally sets you down. You’re thankful he gives you a few moments to recollect yourself, before showing you down a flight of stairs and into a hall of apartment doors. He opens the unlocked door to your provided room and ushers you in.

“You should be safe here,” he assures. “Most of your neighbors are heroes. You’re in good hands, but just in case, I’ll be checking in every so often.”

“Thank you, Hawks,” you say, relief clear in your voice. You offer him a grateful smile.

“Don’t mention it,” he accepts. “Lock the doors and get some rest, you’ve more than earned it after what you went through.” You do as you’re told when he leaves your new apartment, turning the locks and deadbolt. Silence settles upon your new home as you’re left completely alone for the first time all night. The realization feels so foreign to you, as you remember how even at the LOV base, you were never truly left alone. There was always at least someone around you, some pair of eyes and ears attuned to you, preventing your escape. Despite how odd it feels, you press on and find your way to the bedroom. You immediately crawl into bed and fall asleep, still in your clothes, lacking the energy to even think about changing out of them. It’s when the bright light of the morning shines through your windows, waking you up, that you realize all your things were back at the LOV base.

In the light of the day and now refreshed from sleep, you take the time to explore your new flat. The apartment is neither extremely big or claustrophobically small, instead sitting at a nice medium between the two extremes. It seems mostly fitted with all the necessities. When you look in the closet, you even find there’s already a small selection of neutral clothes, ranging in size. You reason they must keep this place preemptively stocked for cases such as yourself.

You go about your morning, trying to ignore how odd it feels to be on your own for once. Going through the motions of showering, changing into comfortable clothes, and making breakfast seems to distract you from the feelings. When you’re out of things to add to your routine, you decide to turn on the news to understand what happened last night. The reporter goes over the major events of the hideout raid, most of which are things you already knew, though, both you and the public alike are left in the dark as to what those strange monsters were. Your knee bounces nervously upon just seeing those things again. The reporter then updates the public on what happened to Bakugo. You feel immense relief upon seeing the news reporter happily report that the UA student has been returned unharmed.

Your doorbell rings, tearing your attention away from the segment. Suspicious, you slowly walk to the door, peering through the peephole. Through the fish-eyed glass, you’re able to see a familiar shock of blonde hair and red wings waiting patiently at your step. You let out a relieved sigh and unlock the door to allow Hawks into your home.

“Heyo,” he greets. “How’s the new place treating you?”

“It’s nice, definitely beats staying at the hideout,” you answer. “Say, speaking of, will I be able to get anything back from there?”

“Yeah, about that, I have some bad news,” he starts. Hawks informs you that damage done to the LOV’s base meant that almost all of your belongings were destroyed. Not much was salvageable in the aftermath. Speaking of the aftermath, he warns you that the heroes have been unable to apprehend the league yet. Their current whereabouts are completely unknown. Despite this, Hawks assures you that it was unlikely the LOV should seek you out again, given the rationality that there are other healers out there and they were dealt a huge loss. You suppose it made sense, but you can’t shake the concern.

“So what does this all mean for me?” You ask.

“Well, until they’re found, you’ll have to stay here,” he explains.

“I guess that’s not so bad,” you accept. “This place is much closer to (campus/work) so my walk won’t be as bad.” He grimaces at your comment, clearly knowing something you don’t.

“No, you literally have to stay here. Unless it’s an emergency, you can’t leave. I’ll be dropping by to check in on you every few days though, so you won’t be completely alone, at least,” he clarifies. Your face drops at the information.

“Oh! Before I forget,” he adds, seemingly remembering something. He pulls a phone from his jacket pocket, one that looks extremely familiar. “I also managed to grab your phone from the evidence locker. The police took it from the scene of your disappearance. You can call your family or friends, let them know you’re alive. I’m sure they’ve been worried about you.” You accept your phone from his hand. Although your phone is dead, you’re sure there’ll be a million calls on your lock screen once it’s turned on.

“Yeah, I’m sure they have,” you agree, a bit solemnly.

“Just… don’t tell them where you are. It’d defeat the whole purpose of hiding you from the league, you know?” You nod, accepting those terms. It’s ironic, you think, how you were supposedly freed, yet you were not granted freedom. You were still locked away, prevented from leaving. Yes, you understood the rationale behind it, but that didn’t mean it erased the fact the situation felt eerily familiar.

Hawks would do regular check-ins. First a couple times a day, then once a day, until slowing down to every two days. When he had the time, he’d stay a little longer to talk and the two of you would hang out in your living room. You got to know the now number two hero fairly well from all those moments. The two of you mostly made small talk, though there were some moments in which you two seemed to genuinely laugh at some stupid joke or share the same opinions on a controversial topic. Sometimes, he’d ask about what your life in the league was like. You were (mostly) honest with him about it, telling him stories about your interactions with everyone. It was a bit fun to see his eyes widen in shock when you recounted some of the things you said to Shigaraki. He seemed a bit aghast to know you made such snarky comments and survived to tell the tale. But, you always were careful to conveniently leave out the details about Dabi. You weren’t sure what he, and the HPSC, would do if they heard you nearly made out with a wanted villain. Some things were better left unsaid.

When you weren’t accompanied by Hawks in your home, you’d spend your time distracting yourself rather than unpacking what happened. Without a therapist, you’d get nowhere. You’d rather bide your time rather than spiral into blaming yourself or justifying the league. You fear it has already begun with your cynicism towards the HPSC, which is why you desperately wish to talk to someone you can trust. Not only that, but your dreams were often about Dabi. Despite what he had done, you seem to still hold a fondness for him. You still desired him. These dreams confused you to no end, but you were never able to rationalize them. It was frustrating, to be locked away, supposedly in safety, but not even granted the ability to talk to a professional about what happened to you. The HPSC claimed due to the high-profile nature of this case, you’d have to wait until the LOV was in custody before you could begin your visits. They seemed to defend their actions by claiming a therapist leaking your case would draw attention to their investigation and endanger you by confirming where you are. Not only that, but they said the risk of Twice’s clones or Toga infiltrating your appointments was too high to justify.

Over time, the weeks of isolation slowly turned into a few months, the passage of time aided by endless distractions. You were starting to get in the swing of things. Being alone no longer felt as foreign, it was becoming natural again. Unfortunately, your whole routine was about to be disrupted. Unbeknownst to you, miles away in Deika City, Shigaraki begins plotting something. A plan to shake up the confidence of the hero commission, starting with you.

“The heroes took something from me. I need to teach them a lesson in stealing what is mine,” Shigaraki states to his lieutenants in the PLF army. “It’s time to return our healer.” And with his command, the plans are set in motion.

Hours later and back to your place, you hear a knock on your door. Figuring it must be Hawks, you shout from your kitchen, “Hold on, I’m coming!” You make your way to the foyer, not bothering to look through the peephole and open the door. Instead of meeting with Hawks, there’s another hero at your doorstep.

“You’re not who I was expecting,” you say, a bit suspiciously. “Normally someone else checks in on me, has this changed?”

“Oh, just for today. I’m just filling in. You know how busy us heroes are!” He answers.

“R-right, I suppose the hero lifestyle can get hectic,” You mumble. You still can’t shake your suspicion.

“H-hey, do you mind showing me your quirk? It’s part of the protocol, you know, to make sure there’s no imposters,” you lie.

“Oh, my bad! I must have missed that part of the report,” the hero apologizes. He buys your lie, which seems a bit suspect, but he shows you his quirk nonetheless. “Slidin’ Go, signature slide!” He slides on the floor, without resistance. Pretty useless quirk, in your opinion, but given how he can still use it, he’s not Toga. You doubt Twice could have obtained all the measurements of a hero that’s not declared missing, so there’s no concern in your mind it’s a clone. Relief washes over you and you wonder why you were so jumpy in the first place.

It’s safe.

You’re safe.

Everything is okay.

“You mind letting me in? Just need to do a check around, make sure you’re actually alone and all,” he requests. You suppose that’s what Hawks has been doing when he hangs over. It makes sense, but it stings to know the social contact you had was all due to a protocol.

“Oh, right, sorry. Come on in,” you agree. You open the door and allow him to enter inside. He looks around your apartment, walking from the entryway down the hall until he stops at your living room. Your (tea kettle/coffee maker) sounds off from your kitchen. The suddenness startles you momentarily. You shut the door behind you and pad past him down the hall. “Sorry, I was in the middle of making (tea/coffee). Just one moment,” you excuse, awkwardly.

“No worries, take your time. I’ll be in the living room while you do that!” He cheerily dismisses. You offer him a polite nod before trotting off to your kitchen, pouring your drink into a mug and carrying it with you.

When you return to the living room, you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. Concerning, but not enough to make you panic. What does make you start sweating is seeing puddles of a gray, clay-like substance on the carpet. Your stomach instantly drops, and your mug slips out of your hands, further sullying the carpet. You remember that conversation between Toga and Muscular, how Toga’s quirk leaves behind pale silt.

FUCK.

Since when could Toga use other quirks?!

You’re about to bolt for the door to attempt to run away when you feel arms gripping your waist. You look down and see no other than Toga.

‘Holy shit, she’s gotten so much stronger,’ you think, the realization stirring up a panic in you. You try to wriggle out of her grasp, but she just doesn’t budge. She quickly snakes one arm to the collar of her shirt and speaks into it.

“Mission accomplished!” She announces, to whom, you’re not quite sure. You’re not left with time to think about it, as you feel an odd sensation rise up your throat. Black sludge pours out of your mouth, enveloping you entirely in darkness. The sensation is nothing short of gross and uncomfortable. You’re thankful it doesn’t last for long, but when your lungs finally clear of the substance, you realize you’ve been transported somewhere completely unfamiliar to you.

“Looks like Toga managed to pull it off after all,” you hear a familiar, smoky voice drawl. The recognition is instant. Your body freezes and your eyes trail over to the source. You lock eyes with none other than Dabi. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, y/n?”

Your mouth feels dry, but you speak anyway. “It has.”

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prismaticpichu · 7 months

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In Lazard's office, when Sephiroth told Zack he might abandon ShinRa depending on how the Geneisi situation is going to turn out and everyone was like "haha, ok, cool", do you think Sephiroth already knew he was going to die?

I'm not saying he had suicide ideation, but a SOLDIER cannot just desert and go live on the countryside raising chocobos. ShinRa sent the entire army + Truks + other SOLDIERs to eliminate Genesis and Angeal (and later Zack). No way Sephiroth could have hoped to surive the desertion. He decided to give his life in an attempt to save his friends and I wish somebody cared for at least 3 minutes

That is such a good question.

Personally, no—I don’t think Sephiroth anticipated his life ending at Nibelheim. Anticipated not returning to Midgar, prolly, considering what he told Zack, and how jaded and tense he was becoming in ShinRa. But I doubt he ever thought his life would end so soon.

That said, it is so so so so interesting to think about what his plans would have genuinely looked like had Nibelheim not gone up in flames. The writers knew EXACTLY what they were doing. Made Sephiroth be this close to freedom. Made him this close to following a brighter path. Made him this close to avoid crumbling into a monster…… and leaving us to helplessly watch as he makes the fateful decision of going on that mission.

So that again brings us to the initial question: what was Sephiroth’s plan, knowing how dangerous it was to desert? As you rightfully pointed out, Genesis & Angeal were ordered to be eliminated when they abandoned ShinRa. Clearly Sephiroth knew this—ofc he did. He disobeyed ShinRa in order to bend those orders. So why would he think he could get away with deserting…? It’s possible that he just thought he’d be strong enough to fend off ShinRa’s forces. After all, he’s Sephiroth—and not to mention that Zack, a slightlyyyyy weaker SOLDIER, was able to overpower the troops trying to gun him down (at least in Rebirth). He most likely wasn’t worried about being killed. Maybe a part of him thought that ShinRa would never actually hurt their treasured SOLDIER period.

I think Sephiroth wanted to live. I think he wanted freedom—a shot at a better, less tainted life. And, ultimately, it wasn’t ShinRa’s forces that stopped him from achieving that. It wasn’t a bullet that stripped his life away from him.

It was his own anger.

I’m kidding ofc! Nibelheim doesn’t happen here <333 Sephiroth escapes ShinRa and mumsy safe and sound, Zack by his side, and together they make the life that they deserve <3

#sephiroth #ffvii #crisis core #nibelheim #ff7 #final fantasy vii #asks #ty!!!#*puts on speculation glasses*

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apprehensiveacorn · 10 months

Note

ACORN IT'S BAD

THE PROGRAMMINAGDAODIHGAOIDSHAISHGOAHODIAHDGOA SPARROWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAIHGAOIDHGAOIHGOAIHWOIHWOIHOIHQOQHROWIEHOEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I’m gonna be honest, I’ve been doing nothing but reading demon slayer fanfiction for the last few days, and I popped in to see how Tumblr was, and I saw this ask, and I was like, “Oh, I missed an episode. Time to go watch that!”

And HOLY HELL, HALF AN HOUR???? We have been spoiled, gang. We hold hands with an equal amount of freakout on our faces. Pacing, thinking, gnawing on my nails

Before I go all theory-deary, the MUSIC BRO. OH MY. The music was so fucjing cool!!!!! Cool music, cool visuals, cool tone of voice, EVERYTHING WAS COOL!!!! And the shrieker at the end? AGEJKAKWNDKIWUSBEJWN

Watch Sparrow become Pama from Minecraft Storymode (that giant fucking robot that mind controlled people w/ those redstone button looking contraptions)

This episode was also really heckin’ interesting for other reasons, too

It seems like the Sparrow we know and love has not been as fully integrated into the mechanical thought processes of a copper golem as we thought.

So, the new copper golem body, on a very basic and obvious—though no less important—level, functions with the same goal as a human body; to keep the body alive.

Second thing I noticed, it seems as if the copper golem’s body functions operate using a proper ai system. An artificial intelligence with a purpose, but still specific wants and needs. However, while a human’s body cannot think for the human, Sparrow’s body’s ai system seems like it can.

While, for humans, if we are hungry, we—ourselves—think of ways to get food, whether that’s a trip to the grocery store or an elaborate trap to catch rabbit or dear. For Sparrow, however, when his body requires something that he does not have (ie. Copper for sustenance) it thinks and problem solves on its own, only giving the proper conscience (Sparrow) instructions on how to get what it needs. It’d be like your body telling you which screws and where for a shelf.

This explains the “part of me is so unsure, but the other part of me knows exactly what to do”

It could also explain the “Objective Updated” text. The body’s AI believes that the conscience (Sparrow) is not willing to put needs over wants, so it influences the conscience (Sparrow) to do so. ie, “dig” and “be more efficient”.

Almost like a parent directing a child. Just, way more controlling lmao

Sparrow was planning to go see people, but he was out of food, so he would have been hungry the whole time. In need of sustenance = not operating at full capability = higher chance of death or failure = worst case scenario.

Then there’s “Be More Efficient”

Not fully efficient = wasted energy. Wasted energy = more sustenance consumed to make up for it. More sustenance consumed = less in reserve = more work to get more.

Efficiency is good. It means doing the most work with the least amount of energy possible. Efficiency is optimal. That’s why Sparrow’s body wants Sparrow to act with the the utmost efficiency.

It’s a self defense mechanism employed by Sparrow’s mechanical copper golem body.

This—theoretically—could affect his sense of self, his sense of reasoning, maybe even his independence. Because why would he have to think much if his body has already done it for him? Why would he want to spend his thought energy on making new machines when his body is already working it out for him, feeding him instructions, giving him orders? Hypothetically, probably won’t happen in canon, it would be very interesting if Sparrow created a sort-of codependency on his own body. If someone wrote a fic on that I would implode

Idk if I’ve explained this well or not, but to make up for the four (💀💀) days it took to word it well-enough, take these screenshots!

#acronage #new life smp #new life sparrow #nlsmp sparrow #nl!sparrow #nlsmp #nlsmp spoilers #nlsmpblr #nlsmp owen #owengejuicetv #new life smp spoilers

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macadoodlewrites · 2 years

Text

Dangerous Love - Part Eight (Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Reader)

Summary: Avery Routledge is John B's cousin, and she has just moved to the OBX - just in time for a treasure hunt. But with John B keeping secrets in order to protect her, he pushes her into the arms of the Kook King. She becomes tangled with none other than Rafe Cameron, but will she realise how damaged he is before it is too late, or will he ruin her before she can get away?

Warnings: death, smut, dub-con, toxic behaviour, abuse, kidnapping, non-con

Ships: Rafe Cameron x OC, minor!JJ x OC

Main Masterlist

Dangerous Love Masterlist

Word Count: 4.9k

He had insisted on driving me, but I told him that I would walk and meet him. It gave me enough time to change into clothing for the evening - a pair of grey jeans and a yellow halter top with white flowers, with my necklaces and a pair of hoop earrings - as I planned to head straight to the OBX movie night after speaking with Rafe, to find Kie and hopefully the others.

Walking to the Country Club took less time than I expected, and I arrived as the sun started to set, painting the sky coral. The club was bright and full of people. I could already see Rafe inside, a drink in one hand and his phone pressed to his ear, looking over a railing to the beach below. I walked to the entrance, meeting the same attendant as I had two nights ago. He looked me over, and either he remembered me, or I fit the image that he needed for his precious club because he waved me on in. I walked over to Rafe.

He must have noticed me entering the club because he watched me as I approached. I hoped that by now my tears had dried and my eyes were no longer red, but there was still a huge lump in my throat at the thought of John B being taken by the DCS, and away from me. Rafe was still on the phone as I stood next to him.

“Top, calm down,” he was muttering. “I get it’s your boat, but - yeah you know exactly who did it. Get the cops to arrest them - look, Topper, I have to go.” I could hear Topper’s raised voice through the phone. Rafe cut him off. “Topper, I’m with Avery - exactly, so I have to go. Press charges, man. I’ll see you later.”

Rafe hung up, and shoved the phone in his pocket, then engulfed me in a hug. I rested my cheek on his chest, letting him take some of my weight - literally and figuratively - even if only for a moment. His hand stroked the back of my head, threading his fingers through my waist-length hair. He then gently pulled away, looking down at me. “What’s wrong? You said you needed my help,” he said lowly, and I couldn’t help it as my eyes watered once again. He moved around me and pulled a chair out of the table nearest to us. “Here, sit down.”

I sat, and he moved to the seat opposite. I noticed something, a drink on my side of the table. “You got me this?”

“Of course I did,” he retorted. “You’re my guest, remember. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

I sighed, clasping both of my hands in front of me, worrying at my thumbs. I didn’t want to look at Rafe, not knowing where to start. I’d called him for comfort, for someone to lend an ear, and because my friends hadn’t been available - but was this the best idea? Rafe did not care for John B. And I had to face it, he probably didn’t care about me as much as I was growing to care about him.

“I saw you last night. I was here on the couch, and you walked right past me, but I saw everything. He walked you to the door, kissed you like a gentleman,” JJ spat. “But newsflash, he is just using you, to either get back at us or to get into your pants! Face it, he will only have use for you when his dick is hard.”

JJ’s words from this morning played in my head. His words, right before we had had sex. I knew the difference between how I felt for Rafe and JJ though - JJ was familiar, comfortable and the remains of a first love. But Rafe was new, exciting, and uncertain.

Perhaps I needed stability in my life, what with my new life here and the sudden departure of John B, but there was nothing that I could do now. Rafe was here. The others weren’t. For now, I had to shove away the harsh words that JJ had used to describe Rafe, and instead rely on him. He had said that he would look after me. And I felt like I needed that more than anything in this moment.

“The DCS took John B,” I finally said. “Apparently, they’ve been threatening to take him for a while, but he told me that Sheriff Peterkin was going to cover for him, yet today a social worker and Deputy Thomas took him away. Apparently, he’s going to the mainland to a foster home.” I took a deep breath, and ran a hand through my hair, pushing it back from my heated face. “None of my friends will answer their phones, and I don’t know what to do. I’m alone at The Chateau, and I’ve only just moved here. I’m lost.”

My eyes were darting everywhere, not focusing on any one specific thing, my leg shaking under the table as I rambled. When I was finished, I looked at Rafe, expecting for him to look at me like I was crazy, to ask why I had come to him of all people, but he didn’t.

“I’m sorry, Avery,” he said lowly, and reached over, separating my hands that were working over each other anxiously. “What can I do to help?”

“I have no idea. I offered to become his legal guardian because I am eighteen, but the social worker practically laughed in my face.” I felt stray tears drip down my cheeks.

Rafe’s face tightened. “Who was it?” he asked. “I’ll get my Dad to have them fired.”

I was taken aback at the ferocity in his tone - and the insinuation that his Father had that much power - but shook my head. “I wouldn't want that. Besides, she was right. I can’t take care of John B. I can’t even look after myself, not really,” I mumbled. “God, I’m a mess.”

His hands on mine stiffened, and I stared at him. “Don’t say that, sweetheart. You’re not a mess, not from anything that I’ve seen regarding you. Are you sure that nothing else has happened? Is it only the DCS that has you like this?”

Could he see into my mind? Besides John B’s departure, there was so much that I couldn’t help thinking of - my Mum and her boyfriend, the bruises still healing, the need to learn the secrets that my friends were hiding, and lastly, had it been a mistake to sleep with JJ that morning? My mind was swimming with thoughts, too much to keep inside. But I couldn’t tell Rafe any of it, no matter how much I wanted to. I couldn’t tell anyone.

“JJ and I had a fight this morning,” I finally relented. At least this was one thing that I could get off of my chest.

“A fight about what?”

“You, actually.”

Rafe leaned back in his seat, looking highly amused. “Me?” he scoffed.

“He was at The Chateau last night when Topper dropped me off and saw you walk me to the door. We argued about it this morning, that’s all.”

He let out a low whistle. “Let me guess. He told you what a bad guy I am, how you’re too good for me?”

“That’s not-”

“He’s not wrong,” Rafe continued. I blinked at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“You are too good for me. But I’m a Cameron, and we Cameron’s only want the best. And you, Avery, are the best.”

Was I imagining this - was Rafe admitting that he wanted me? At my shocked expression, Rafe reached over to run a finger down my cheek. “It’s fine, you don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted to make my intentions clear,” he said softly.

“Your intentions?”

He nodded. “My intentions to keep seeing you, to get to know you, Avery Routledge. You are going to fall for me,” he said, and I could have taken his words as cocky, presumptuous even, but that was not how they sounded. No, he sounded matter of fact. I couldn’t help but grip his hands, intertwining our fingers as I smiled softly at him.

“Is that so?” I asked.

“It is,” he replied, and his gentle expression faltered for a second. “Now I have to ask. Any competition that I should worry about?”

It took every ounce of strength in my body not to shift in my seat the thought of this morning - JJ’s lips, his fingers, sat on his lap as he fucked me.

“No,” I replied, maintaining my smile. I went to pull one of my hands away, to take a sip of my drink, but he held tight.

“Rafe-”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, as if I had not said his name. “What has JJ been saying to you about me?”

“Nothing important, Rafe, I swear,” I said, finding myself wanting more than anything to let him know that I had no bad thoughts about him - and yet... “I do have one question for you.”

His smile was devilish. “There it is. Go on then, sweetheart.”

“Did you and Topper attack Pope? With golf clubs?”

Rafe’s expression didn’t change, not even a quirk of his cheek. “JJ is trying to get into your head about me, Avery. We never touched him with our clubs, I promise you.”

“But there were two of you,” I prodded. JJ’s anger as he had yelled at me, naming my betrayal was a movie playing at the forefront of my mind.

“There were. But Pope antagonised us first. We were trying to play a round of golf, and he wouldn’t leave us alone. Everything happened so quickly, and suddenly he was swinging for us, so we had to defend ourselves. There was nothing else that we could do, Avery.”

“That’s not what JJ said-”

“You can ask Topper, he will tell you the same thing,” he said with a shrug. “How well do you really know JJ? How well do you know any of them? I get that John B is your family, but the rest of them? Maybe they’re not as perfect as you paint them out to be. From what I can tell, they’ve been lying to you, leaving you out. Correct me if I’m wrong.” He finally released my hands, leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his drink. He looked back over the railing, out to the calm ocean. The sun was about to disappear, its last few rays reflecting on the still water.

“I know them pretty well,” I mumbled, taking my own drink into my hands. “I’ve been coming to the OBX for years. And JJ wouldn’t lie.”

He placed one of his hands on the table. “And there it is,” he said softly, eyes meeting mine. They looked dark in the fading light, and there was now no trace of a smile on his full lips. “It’s JJ, isn’t it? I knew it had to be one of them.”

“One of who?”

“Your friends. Which one you’ve dated before. I assumed it had to be one of them, Pope or JJ, or maybe even Kiara. But it’s JJ, isn’t it?”

He spoke so casually that I could have easily believed that he was happy to discuss this topic. But there was something off, something that I couldn’t put my finger on. Something that told me to stop talking. But that part of me was quiet, much quieter than the part of me that wanted to stay and talk to Rafe, to get to know him better.

“I never dated JJ,” I retaliated, trailing off at my weak statement.

“Just sex then?” he asked, pulling the cherry from the top of my drink and eating it. He placed the stem between us, finally allowed a deceptively sweet smile onto his handsome face.

“Fine. We have history, JJ and I,” I relented, and his smile widened. “What?”

“I’m glad that you were honest with me,” said Rafe, and despite what we were talking about, he looked genuinely pleased. “Now, sweetheart, hurry up and finish your drink. We have to get to the OBX movie night.”

I took a large sip from my drink, the sweetness coursing pleasantly down my throat. “I’m going to be attending with Kiara,” I said. He tapped my drink with his fingers, and I took another sip. Before I knew it, there was only a small layer of liquid gracing the bottom of the glass.

“That’s fine,” said Rafe. “I’ll take you.”

Familiarly, he stood up and held his hand out to me, and as I had grown accustomed to doing, I took it. But instead of leading me to follow, like normal, he pulled me in closer, and bent down, lips meeting mine. The remnants of his drink were still on his tongue as he moved his mouth against mine. I matched his movements, embracing the softness of his lips. Just as I started to feel something in my core, a tremor of butterflies that wanted to continue further with Rafe, taking the kiss from innocent to more, he pulled away from me slowly, gazing down at me with a coy smile.

Then, his hand still in mine, he started to lead me out of the Island Club, towards his motorbike. “I’ll speak to my Dad about the DCS. See if he has any sway and can do something about your cousin, okay?” he said as I clambered behind him on his motorbike.

“Thank you so much, Rafe. I really appreciate it.”

“You never have to thank me,” he replied, and as he started his bike. “I said that I would look after you. And I always keep my promises.”

~~~

The sun had well and truly set as we pulled up to the OBX movie night. I hopped off Rafe’s bike and handed him back his helmet, praying that I did not have helmet hair. Rafe glanced at me. “Are you sure that you have to watch the movie with Kiara?” He took one of my hands. “You can sit with me and the guys.”

“You know that Topper doesn’t like me,” I replied. He leaned back on his bike, so that I was pulled into him, leaning against him, our hands entangled between our bodies. “And I want to see my friends. I need to tell them what happened with John B.”

“I understand,” he muttered. “Will they all be here?”

I shrugged at him. “I guess so,” I mumbled. “JJ and Pope weren’t answering their phones earlier, but Kie told me they would never miss tonight.”

“Well then-” he broke off, looking over the top of my head to something behind us. I looked over my shoulder to see Kiara a handful of footsteps away, leaning against a tree and staring at us. “Good luck with her, Avery. Have a good night.” His lips briefly touched my cheek as I turned back to look up at him, but he was letting go of my hands, and walking away from me.

I took a deep breath and started to walk towards Kie. “Okay, I know what you’re going to say-”

“I don’t think that you do, Avi,” she retorted. She linked our arms together and marched us out of the car park and towards where the crowd was heading to - a large field full of camping chairs and bean bags, all seated in front of a huge screen. The movie wasn’t playing yet. “I think that you made a huge mistake seeing Rafe again, especially after seeing him last night.”

“How does everyone already know about last night?” I yelled exasperatedly. Kiara side-eyed me with distaste.

“JJ told me,” she replied. “He wasn’t happy.”

I looked down. “Yeah, we talked already,” I replied.

Kiara yanked me backwards. “I really hope you know what you’re doing. I can imagine JJ yelled at you, but he is a boy, and he doesn’t get it.”

I stared at her, into her pretty chocolate eyes. She wasn’t angry, not like JJ had been, but she looked fearful. “Get what, Kie?”

“I don’t like the Cameron’s, you know that. I have my own personal reasons for my differences with Sarah, but Rafe - Rafe is something else. He isn’t a good guy.”

A small bubble rose in my chest, a bubble of protectiveness for Rafe. Over the past few days, when my friends had been keeping secrets, when I had been upset over my house being broken into, when my cousin had been taken by the DCS, who had been the one to comfort me every time? Rafe.

How well do you really know JJ? How well do you know any of them? I get that John B is your family, but the rest of them? Maybe they’re not as perfect as you paint them out to be. From what I can tell, they’ve been lying to you, leaving you out. Correct me if I’m wrong, was what Rafe had said to me, and although it was not going to make me question my friends, it was enough to make me realise that they hadn’t been treating me like I was one of them. It hurt. And it was made worse by the fact that Rafe could see it too.

“Rafe has been there for me over the past few days whilst you lot have been running around, keeping secrets from me.”

Kiara’s mouth opened and closed again, and I could see the argument in her mind - tell me the truth or keep their secrets safe. It was clear to see which side was going to win. Kie linked our arms again and started walking us through the maze of camping chairs, lips tight. “Just be careful, please, Avi?”

Out of the corner of my eye to my right, I could see Rafe sat with Topper and Kelce. I wanted to turn, to look at him, but up ahead I could see Pope and JJ. They were already looking at us. As we approached, Pope stood up and awkwardly put his arms around Kie. JJ was far less stiff as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in tight, and then offering me the camp seat next to his. I took it, Kie to my left, and Pope on the end, just as the movie started to play. Kie started to shift in her seat and looked at me. “I’m going to get a drink, want anything?” I shook my head and felt JJ’s arm creep around the back of my chair.

Kiara walked away, and I forgot that she had disappeared as I relaxed into my chair, starting to enjoy the movie.

Suddenly she was back, a stressed look on her face as she sat back down in between Pope and me. “Just saw Rafe, and he said, and I quote, tell your boy that we know what he did. What is that?”

Both JJ and Pope twisted abruptly in their seats, spinning to look behind them. I turned too, and followed their line of sight - to Rafe, Topper and Kelce. Topper waggled his fingers at them, and they turned back around. I looked at Rafe and met his eyes; even from a distance I could see that he was looking at me, but he did not look happy. There was enmity in his blue stare. I turned back towards the movie slowly, back to JJ and Pope’s hushed tones.

“Great, the whole death squad,” Pope whispered.

“Don't stare, bro,” JJ replied, looking past Kie and I. “Just warning you, if they corner me, I'm coming out swinging, okay? Slice and dicin'. I'm on edge right now.” He reached into his bag. “If that doesn't work, I got this right here.”

I watched as he pulled his gun partially out of his bag and shoved at his hand to put it away. Fury rose in my chest, matching the expression on Kiara’s face.

“I’m sorry, JJ, please tell me that you did not bring a gun here. There are kids!” she hissed at him. Pope’s blank expression was almost comical, but JJ’s looked determined.

“Why the hell have you got your gun, JJ? What did you guys do?” I whispered, glaring at both of them.

“Founding principle, you guys. No secrets amongst Pogues,” Kiara said, and I could have laughed at her statement, but instead it made something sink to the pit of my stomach. No secrets? They’d kept far too many from me. Maybe they didn’t really see me as a Pogue after all. “What is Rafe talking about?”

“Kie, Avery, it might go down tonight.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

The boys refused to answer any further, and instead sunk down in their seats, eyes focused on the film. I tried to do the same, but the scenes were meaningless. All I could think of was what Rafe had said to Kie, and what JJ and Pope had done to earn the words. Pope’s leg jittered nervously and after a good ten minutes, I watched as Kie kicked him.

Pope looked over to JJ. “I need to take a piss. I can't hold it. I drank too much soda.”

“It's too exposed. They'll totally see us. And they’re blocking the bathrooms.” At Pope’s desperate look, JJ sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“What are you going to do? Hold it for each other,” Kiara spat, but they both started to walk away, eyes nervously scanning the seats. I followed their movements until they had both walked around the screen, and then turned. Rafe, Topper and Kelce were not where they had been sitting before. Unease starting to flood through my body, Rafe’s words ringing through my had.

What had JJ and Pope done?

“I’m going to go and check on them,” I mumbled, the tension in my chest a living thing. Kie eyed me.

“And do what? Avery, they’re fine.”

“Fine, then I’m going to the bathroom.”

She waved me away with a hand, eyes still on the screen. “If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

I stood up and started to follow the path that JJ and Pope had walked, across and around the screen. A group of trees were on either side, but through the trees I could hear noises. The sounds of - a fight?

I rushed through the trees and froze at the sight in front of me. JJ and Pope were fighting - and losing - against Rafe, Kelce and Topper. Kelce had JJ in his grip, arms restrained, and Rafe was pulling back to swing at him, whilst Topper had Pope under his arm and was elbowing him in the back.

As it had on the beach before when Topper had been attacking John B, my instincts took over. I ran at Rafe, Kelce, and JJ just as Rafe swung. I threw myself at Rafe, wrapping my hands around his arm and pulling it back as hard as I could. He didn’t move as much as I had hoped, but it did slow his momentum and stop him from hitting JJ’s face again. He turned to me as I held his arm, and it gave JJ just what he needed to break free from Kelce and turn and punch him in the face. Rafe moved to stop him, but I dug my nails into his skin.

“Rafe, stop!” I yelled, pulling him with all my might. “Leave him alone!”

The grin that Rafe gave me sent chills through my body, far from the sweet boy who had been smiling at me at the Country Club only an hour ago. “No can do, sweetheart. And I’m going to have to ask you to get out of here.”

He yanked his arm free from my grip and leaned down. Before I could stop him, I was lifted over his shoulder, suddenly staring down at the ground. “Put me down!” I screamed, fists smacking his back as hard as I could, but he showed no sign of caring, his arm holding my body tight to his shoulder as he walked. “Rafe!”

“Avi!” I heard JJ yell and suddenly he was there in front of me, then gone as Kelce tackled him. I kicked my legs into Rafe’s stomach, hoping to wound him, injure him, anything to get him to put me down.

“Avery, stop fighting me,” he yelled. His free arm wrapped around my legs and held them down, minimising my movements.

“Put me down, you bastard!”

“Have it your way,” he hissed, and flung me off of his shoulder. I fell to my feet and gravity took over as I continued to fall backwards, hitting the floor. Rafe spared me only a frenzied glance. “Stay down,” he ordered, then turned his back and was heading towards the others, towards the fight. JJ had the upper hand with Kelce, but Pope was doubled over, wheezing as Topper elbowed him again.

This time I launched myself at the golden-haired Kook, pure unfiltered anger fuelling me. How dare he think that he could attempt to drown my cousin? Attack my friends? “Fuck you!” I screamed, leaping onto his back. I smacked his face from behind, tried to aim my feet at his private area to inflict as much pain as possible. Every part of me was hitting at him, and whatever I was doing must have worked as he let Pope go.

“Bitch!” he yelled, swinging himself around, trying to dislodge me. I clung on, landing a satisfying smack to his cheek. “Fucking bitch!” he yelled again.

And then I was yanked away from him, all air being swept from my body at the pressure of the grip around my waist - it felt like my stomach was being squeezed in on itself as I flew backwards. And then my feet hit the ground and I was being pulled backwards at a merciless pace, away from JJ who was on the ground, and Pope who having had a minute to recover, landed a decent punch to Topper’s face.

The familiar cologne, the scent of crisp, night air confirmed to me who was holding me.

“Rafe, I swear to God, let me go!” Both of his arms were around my waist, but one moved to my jaw to pull my head back, to lean against his shoulder. I was breathing heavily, tired from trying to fight. Both of my hands moved to the hand at my face, trying to pull it away but I achieved nothing. Kelce was staring down at JJ, but JJ’s head was to the side, staring at me and Rafe.

“Get your hands off of her, you asshole!” he yelled, his nostrils flared even as blood dripped from his nose. “Don’t you touch her!”

I was still pulling at Rafe’s hand but felt it tighten fractionally on my jaw as his lips brushed my ear. “What do you think, sweetheart? Does he sound jealous to you?”

“Let me go, Rafe,” I spat, and felt his body vibrate against mine, his laughter in my ear.

“Come on, Avery, I thought we were friends,” but - and perhaps it could have been my imagination - his grip started to loosen ever so slightly -

And then all I could see was light and fire, and Kiara stood next to the movie screen that was slowly catching alight. Topper pushed Pope away and Kelce climbed off of JJ, as screams from the other side of the screen started to fill the night. Rafe’s arm let go of my waist, and the hand on my chin slid down my arm, sliding his fingers along mine.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, tugging at me. His gaze flickered from the growing flames and back to me, his deep blue eyes bright and burning.

“You want me to go with you?” I hissed, yanking my hand back, stepping away from him. He watched me; his jaw clenched. “You attacked my friends.”

“I think you’ll find that they attacked us,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm.

“That’s not true,” I said, a crack in my voice as I took another step away. “It’s not.”

“You weren’t here,” he replied lowly, hand out for me to take, as I had done countless times. “Don’t always believe that they are so innocent.”

A hand hooked itself around my elbow, and I turned to JJ. Kie and Pope were already running away. “Come on, Avi, let’s go,” JJ said, and sent a look of hatred to Rafe. Rafe returned it likewise, and I watched his eyes focus on JJ’s hand on my arm. I looked from Rafe to JJ, and I felt my expression soften at the blood around JJ’s nose, at his split lip.

“Go on, Avi,” Rafe finally spat, and turned on his heels, calmly walking the way that Topper and Kelce had headed too. “Have fun with your Pogues!” he called over his shoulder.

A part of my chest burst; my shoulders sagged in defeat as I watched him go for a moment before everything finally started to catch up to my brain - the heat from the flames was on my back. JJ started to run, and I moved with him, away from the burning screen, away from the fight, and away from Rafe.

PREVIOUS PART // NEXT PART

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candlelight27 · 2 years

Note

I have a request if you don’t mind!

It’s nsfw where Gojo (JJK) pursues “shy” reader thinking he could easily hook up with and dom her but when they actually go to hook up she ends up domming him (he’s surprised but shamefully enjoys it)

If you do write this please tag me @kiwifujin thank you!!

Hello!! Thank you for the request! Hope it lives up to your expectations :) It was really fun to write, especially the last part. @kiwifujin

Gojo x shy!reader 1400 words aprox. Warnings: N*sfw, smut (more lime than lemon), (my attempt at) dom reader and sub gojo, mentions of food and eating

-----

The first time he saw you, you piqued Gojo’s interest.

He wasn’t expecting you to go and welcome him after the train trip with a courtesy souvenir in hand and bowing profusely. That, paired up with your features and the timid way in which you called his surname, had him drooling over how cute you were.

But, of course, Satoru was nothing but a professional – or so he affirms –, so he wasn’t planning on sweeping you off your feet. Maybe he could become a little friendlier than usual, tormenting you a little like he did with Utahime, but sleeping with a fellow sorcerer just because was off limits. Besides, he knew Nanami would kill him if he put a single finger on you, since he was your usual partner in missions and he was sure the other sorcerer would have a soft spot for you.

However, Gojo’s initial resolution was starting to crack.

You had been accompanying Gojo for roughly five days while he was looking for the source of the special grade curse. And what a week it was. He wouldn’t leave your side for a minute, only at night, when you needed to rest. It was tiring, but, despite his childish attitude, you learnt a lot from such a talented sorcerer, and you found out that it wasn’t so bad to spend time with him as other made you think – but, truthfully, neither of these things were going to come out of your mouth –.

One of those days, when he invited you to lunch, the waiter got your order wrong. Normally, you wouldn’t say anything and just eat whatever was brought to you.

“Didn’t you order other thing?”, Gojo questioned. It still amazed you how he could see with his blindfold on.

“Oh, ehm…” you tried not to stutter. “Yes… But… It’s ok, Gojo-san,” you reassured him.

“It’s not okay”, he insisted. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it changed.”

In less than fifteen minutes you were eating what you had originally ordered. And, well, you weren’t exactly complaining. You even felt a little flattered, having the strongest sorcerer worried about your well-being.

Gojo, on the other hand, was ecstatic. After spending almost every day with assertive people – often pretty shameless, just like him –, your shyness was so refreshing. You were truly adorable, and he was going to make sure to use it to his advantage.

It got to the point where he offered to make your phone calls, all to avoid your panicked looks and anxious face. You gladly let him do.

Fortunately for the sorcerer world but unfortunately for you, you and Gojo Satoru formed a solid, effective team, therefore, your time together abruptly ended when you exorcised the special grade curse.

You were accompanying him to the train station when the white-haired sorcerer finally made his mind and tried to give it a shot. The reasons against becoming more intimate with you had already melted thanks to the flame you ignited in him. And he couldn’t wait to see how submissive you’d be… He had to be selfish. Gojo wasn’t a man to wait around and see how other would conquer you when he wanted you all to himself.

“You didn’t get to show me your apartment,” he started, careful not to scare you away.

“Oh, I didn’t know that was… done between coworkers, Gojo-san”, you answered politely.

“Nanami’s never been to your place?” Don’t blame him, he might as well get some insight.

“No.”

“Well, of course. But I’m a special coworker, am I not?”, he smiled. Gojo was getting into your personal space little by little.

“Well…”, you say, your voice low and out of breath because you were starting to get what he was insinuating. “I guess… you are… I really enjoyed your stay here…”

“For real, sweetcheeks? Why don’t we go, then?”

“Gojo-san, your train leaves in half an hour-”

“Ah!” Gojo stops walking. You had to turn around to face him. “I guess I forgot to tell you. I can teleport myself back whenever I want. But I like trains.”

You blinked. Was this a good idea? Absolutely not, but you had to live a little, right?

And that’s how Gojo has ended up in this predicament. Not even his six eyes were capable of warning him of your secret side.

His blindfold’s discarded, so you can see his beautiful blue orbs in all their glory. Sweat sticks white strands of hair on his forehead. Gojo’s stripped naked except for a pair of light blue boxers.

Yet the most shocking thing is that he’s tied up by his wrists to your bed.

You made sure he had his infinity off, then used your cursed technique, black whip, to immobilize him. He’s shocked. What happened to your timid self? But shock doesn’t mean turned off, because his erection is practically leaking. He can get out of your trap, he’s Gojo Satoru, but he’s having way more fun this way.

“So, Gojo-san, have you been thinking of fucking me since you arrived?”, you ask with a sweet tone. You drag your nails down his torso, goosebumps appearing all over his skin.

“Well, kinda”, he admitted. Your travelling hand now teases the elastic band of his underwear. The wet spot on the fabric becomes bigger and bigger.

“Oh? Really?” You decide freeing him from the last item of clothing, but very slowly. You speak, and Gojo doesn’t know what he should pay attention to, your sickly sweet voice or the cold breeze on his dick. His cock hits his stomach once you’ve discarded his underwear. “Then why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Be-because…”

You smile. He shudders because he’s now completely bare and he’s lost. He’s so used to be in control that he doesn’t know what you’re expecting and he’s so nervous… Is he doing good? You start again with your feather-like caresses, yet you avoid his dick, enjoying the way it twitches due to the lack of contact.

“Because-”, he tried again, but your fingers arrive at his happy trail. They were so close to where he needs them the most, but the moment never comes. “You’re so cute it seemed wrong”, he manages to say, slurring his words. He really wants to give you an answer that satisfies you.

“But in the end you couldn’t resist yourself, right, Gojo-san?” You use your thumb to apply the slightest pressure to his balls and the sorcerer moans your name.

“Not that- not that I’m not enjoying this but are you going to do something?”, he complains. You have to giggle, because he couldn’t help but being himself despite the big disadvantage he’s immersed in.

“You’re so greedy… that’s why you couldn’t help yourself. And that’s why you’re trying to get me to touch you, even though you’ve been such a bad boy…” You stand up and look around your room.

From his position, Satoru can’t see what you’re doing, and he’s getting nervous. By the sounds you are making, you are rummaging in your drawers, and he suspects it’s going to make his situation even harder.

“Do you always hook up with your partners, Gojo-san?”

You finally appear from the shadows, a bright pink object in your hand. The man can’t bring himself to speak: instead, he just shakes his head, denying the statement.

“No?”, you pout. “Are you lying to me?”

“No!”, he exclaims.

“But I heard you’re always flirting… that you’re a slut…”

“It’s harmless flirting, I swear”, he sighs. Just as he talks, you turn on the vibrator and place it against the head of his dick for a second. He trembles. “I said I swear it! I admit, I’m greedy and flirty, but I’m not a slut!”

“Okay, okay. If you say so… I’ll go easy on you.” You hop onto bed, only to straddle his abs. You lower your head, so your eyes are on his level. He looks so defenseless like this… His muscled arms are framing the growing desperation in his face. “How about this? I’m going to use this little toy on you while I sit on your face, Gojo-san. If you can make me cum before you do, then you’ll prove you’re not a slut and I’ll let you fuck me. Does that sound good?”

Gojo knows you’re going to be the death of him. But, at least, it’s going to be a worthy, sexy death.

“Yes!”, he agrees to his ruin.

#jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #n*sfw #jjk #gojo satoru

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cheers-mdears · 2 years

Text

I think at least part of the whole "taking Izzy's word for it that he's good at his job and keeping Blackbeard together" is due to the difference between what we see of Ed and Stede's management styles, a lack of comedy cues, and Izzy’s air of exhaustion.

On the Revenge, we see so little of the day-to-day assignment and management of crew that a lot of viewers don’t even realize Buttons is the First Mate (and if I’m wrong about his position, that just proves my point even more lol). Most of the Revenge crew aren't exactly skilled in pirating, but they're organized and skilled enough as sailors to keep the ship up and going by themselves up to and including the first three episodes (with the exception of Buttons leaving his post to listen to stories and running them aground). Seeing so little of the ship management means we don’t have much of a foil to Izzy’s main role as Ed’s First Mate.

With Ed and Izzy, Ed does a lot more explicit delegating (which is generally a good leadership trait imo), and clearly leaves the middle management shit to Izzy. And so when they commandeer the Revenge, and especially with Stede and Ed giggling and wrapped up in each other with relatively few pressing Captain-y demands, we end up seeing Izzy (attempt to) do the assigning and micromanaging of chores in a way we didn't get to see when the Revenge crew were (successfully!) managing themselves.

This sets up a sort of forced perspective of Izzy as "the person who's supposed to get things done" moreso than anyone else. In episodes 5 and 6 in particular, the captaining that Ed and Stede do is like third fiddle to their relationship building and shenanigans. With Izzy, almost everything we see him do is in the middle management role (and losing a fucking duel to Stede fucking Bonnet lmao). And with the Revenge crew? In episodes 4 and 5, what we mostly see is framed as slacking off/being incompetent by Izzy's incredibly abusive standards; in episode 6, however, we see them more from their own/Stede’s pov again and they plan and perform a fuckery within less than two days with their usual amateurish charm.

But the thing is: this forced perspective also gives us plenty examples of how Izzy is Objectively Bad at His Job aside from being an abusive shit.

He lets his guard down on the island and loses a hostage he paid for.

He deliberately sabotages his assignment to get Stede to Ed's ship.

His plan for the Spanish is to fight almost certainly to the death even without knowing the Revenge's specs/stockpiles.

He claims to have to handle/manage Ed but we don't ever see him do that?? In fact, Izzy's successful attempts at influencing him actually hurt Ed (hello bathtub breakdown, hello Kraken 2.0 breakdown).

Even if you take his mention of managing Ed’s mood and massaging the crew as him meaning he placates the crew to keep them on and working, he still calls Ed half-insane in a dismissive way to Ivan and Fang. Like?

He's wildly discriminatory-- he harasses Lucius while First Mate; makes the crew mates of color do all the aggressive, demeaning, and hard work while Captain; and mocks Ed's gender presentation and vulnerability when he's First Mate again.

He doesn't facilitate teaching the crew how to be more skilled at the things he wants them to do, he just dishes out orders and abuse.

He doesn’t shift his management style when what he’s using on the Revenge crew is clearly not working.

He certainly doesn't do any of the chores or repairs--you know, actual work??--himself.

He's mutinied within like a day of becoming captain.

He's the shitty, useless manager that leads to an office having a high turnover rate cuz no one can fucking stand working with him. On Ed’s ship, he may be good at his job of keeping people in line and they stay because “holy shit I work for Blackbeard” and that’s just how pirating goes, but the Revenge crew have higher standards and can just kill said shitty manager and elect someone actually competent (the dream 🥺).

So it comes down to a forced perspective of him seemingly doing all the work AND IMPORTANTLY, unlike in a genre workplace comedy, most of his ineptitude isn't highlighted by being played for laughs (probably because he's an abusive asshole and therefore it's only funny when he gets beaten at his own game).

And I can see how that lack of the "lmao wow can you believe how much this guy sucks at his job?" cues we're so used to in comedies can contribute to some people not seeing the forest of Izzy's ineptitude and mischaracterization of Ed/the crews for the trees of his resignation monologue, role as a middle manager, and air of burnt out exasperation that's typical of the people who work *under* people like him.

(Note: this is not a "get out of jail free" card in regards to considering the racial implications of taking Izzy's word as truth that he's the only competent and sane person around despite evidence to the contrary)

#our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #ofmd meta #ofmd izzy hands #indrid talks

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vulpes-fennec · 1 year

Text

The Fae Equality Initiative (Ch. 11) 🌊

Summary: I've been wanting to write a snippet of Elain watching Lucien spar. So here y'all go!

Tarquin, High Lord of the Summer Court, has sent ripples of shock throughout Prythian with his plans to eliminate discrimination against Lesser Fae. When the Night Court is invited to send a delegation to Summer Court, Elain Archeron can’t wait to show everybody what she’s capable of on her first official Inner Circle assignment. Little does she know that Tarquin has also recruited Lucien Vanserra’s assistance…

Read: Ch 1 | Ch 10 | AO3

“Look at what I found: High Lords and Ladies of Prythian.” Elain held up a thick tome with pride. “It must be the most recent edition.”

Lucien’s day had been filled with deep discussion and drafts of outreach materials for soliciting applicants to the Summer Court’s official Inequality Remediation Committee. He had spent all of dinner socializing with the other delegates, offering witty remarks and inquiring after their home courts.

Lucien wanted nothing more than to strike up a conversation with his mate, to keep the ball rolling after their Adriata outing yesterday, but he didn’t want to press his luck. To his surprise, Elain was the one who approached him during dinner, asking if he would be willing to study at the library with her.

Which was why Lucien was currently sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with her under the warm glow of the library faelight, a book wedged between them on the table. He should’ve been tired after such a long day, but Elain’s alluring jasmine-honey scent and her mellow voice sparked his instincts. Touch her, feel her, taste her. Lucien clenched his teeth until his jaw ached slightly, willing himself to focus on what Elain was saying.

“...so there truly were no High Ladies in Prythian until Feyre and Viviane came along.” Elain marveled as she scanned the table of contents. She flipped to the very back of the book, where the High Lady of Night and High Lady of Winter had their respective pages.

Elain wanted to know how exactly the High Lords were chosen, and Lucien himself was also curious. The question of who would inherit Beron’s throne had been omnipresent during his time in the Autumn Court. Seven sons, six of them vying for the High Lord’s position. Well, with my self-exile and the deaths of two brothers, it seems Eris has pulled ahead in the competition, he mused.

“Feyre and Viviane weren’t initially chosen by the land,” Lucien said. “They took the High Lord’s vows in a ceremony with the priestesses in order to become High Ladies.”

“I can see why Feyre was not chosen to be High Lady of the Night Court, because she was human,” Elain mused. “But why not Viviane?”

“Perhaps it’s because Viviane was not part of the High Lord’s bloodline,” Lucien surmised. “But we can check the diagram in the appendix.” The diagram of the High Lords’ line of succession was more or less a family tree, tracing the rulers of each court back to the earliest written record tens of thousands of years ago.

“Is Viviane’s power equal to Kallias’s power now that she’s High Lady?” Elain asked. She leaned in to examine the diagram, her soft curls tickling Lucien’s bare arm. Cauldron, she must be trying to kill me.

“I’m not sure. How does it work with Feyre and Rhysand?” he responded with forced casual levity.

“Hmm. I’m not sure, either. When Rhysand died during the war, I didn’t see any shift in power to the next High Lord. So perhaps the Night Court must’ve truly accepted Feyre as its High Lady, and it’s not just a title?”

Lucien thought for a bit. “I wonder where the power would have gone if hypothetically, Feyre wasn’t made High Lady prior to the war. Rhysand didn’t have any direct descendents.”

“Tarquin, Tamlin, Helion, and Thesan do not have any children, though.”

“You’re right. I should’ve said that Rhysand didn’t have any immediate relatives. See here?” Lucien pointed to multiple entries with notations such as “second cousin” or “nephew” under the High Lords, indicating the power was not passed directly onto sons. “Cresseida and Varian are Tarquin’s cousins, and I know Thesan has several nieces who may take his place should the unthinkable happen. But Tamlin and Helion…they don’t have any relatives whatsoever.”

Elain flipped back to Helion’s page, scanning his biography rapidly. “I suppose one also doesn’t need to be in their own court to experience the transfer of power that makes them High Lord. Tarquin and Helion became High Lords when they were trapped Under the Mountain.”

“And Rhysand became High Lord when he was in the Spring Court,” Lucien added. He glanced down at Helion’s image. Whoever illustrated his entry had captured the High Lord of Day with uncanny likeness. A toga of creamy white artfully draped over broad shoulders and offered readers a glimpse of a muscled thigh. The High Lord of Day wore a slim crown gold resembling the rays of the rising sun.

There was something in the edges of his nose, in the shape of his lips that seemed oddly familiar. But his amber eyes were regal and aloof. Helion Spellcleaver. Perhaps he may know a thing or two about my abilities.

The High Lord of Day was the most skilled spell cleaver in all of Prythian. Surely he could provide an answer as to how Lucien managed to defeat Koschei. Tarquin’s admiration the other day was utterly unwarranted—I was improvising when it came to Koschei, quite literally pulling spells out of my ass, Lucien thought to himself.

The two fell back into their individual studying. Things were a tad bit more productive, but Lucien still felt their silence was stifling.

So he said, “by the way, Tarquin sent me several copies of the laws that affected the humans in Summer Court.” Lucien pulled out a packet of bound paper from his satchel. “I was wondering if I could get your input on them.”

Elain’s face brightened with gratitude as she took the packet from him. “Yes, I’d be more than happy to take a look,” she said a little too quickly. “I mean…I actually went to a charity that assists humans in Adriata today. I could ask them for their opinions, too.”

“How did that go?”

“It’s called Safe Harbor House, and it provides temporary housing and food for humans in need,” Elain answered. “I helped them prepare lunch and started clearing up the garden. The people were very generous and kind, but it’s painfully clear that they need more funding and staff.” Worry twisted in her brown eyes.

Lucien noticed a flash of apprehension in her gaze as well. It was the guarded look he’d seen on Elain’s face several times during the committee meetings. Something’s odd about that, he mused. Clearly it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine. “But what about you?” he pressed. “Are you…how did you feel?”

Elain’s hesitation sent anxiety shooting through Lucien’s chest. I pushed her too far, he fretted when his mate cast her eyes down towards her hands.

“It was strange,” she said, so quietly he could barely hear. “It didn’t expect things to be so different. That my senses were once so dull, that my face was destined to wrinkle…” she trailed off.

“You mean, it was strange interacting with other humans as Fae, rather than as their fellow human,” Lucien supplied.

Elain nodded. “I always thought I would maintain a mortal perspective, even if I was physically Fae. But no. The things the human families found odd, the things they had difficulty adjusting to…they’re normal to me now.”

She continued, “I’ve always felt so human in Velaris. Yet when I finally get a chance to interact with humans, I’m left feeling so Fae.”

I don’t know what I am. That’s what she means, Lucien realized. His heart ached for Elain, realizing she was going through something similar, yet so different, to him.

“Well I’ve lived with Jurian and Vassa for nearly three years now,” Lucien reflected, “and there are still some things about them—about humans—that puzzle me. Like how they don’t have any holidays. What a dour way to live, with nothing to look forward to.”

Elain crinkled her nose. “We still have balls and galas! Holidays are associated with magic, which is associated with the Fae. Naturally we didn’t want to dabble in that.”

“And now that you’ve experienced several holidays, was there anything to fear?”

“There wasn’t,” Elain conceded. “You know one thing that bothers me about the Fae? The fact that we are so long-lived and so…I don’t know how to say it. Out there? Openly flirtatious?” She struggled to find the right word.

“Promiscuous?” Lucien suggested.

Elain reddened. “Yes, promiscuous. What if someone accidentally sleeps with their friend’s parent? Or grandparent? Everybody looks so young!”

Lucien laughed loudly, earning a hasty “shhh” from Elain. Right, we’re in the library. “Sorry,” he grinned. “Yes, there have been some scandals. It’s even more awkward when a child is born from that union.”

“Oh gods!” Elain cried, covering her cheeks with her hands.

“The Fae are more open about seeking pleasure than humans, and our courtship rituals reflect that,” Lucien said dryly. “Plenty of interesting experiences to be had across different Fae groups.” Elain’s flustered expression froze.

Ah shit. Pleasure? Courtship rituals? Sex with other Fae? And the mating bond…damn it, I shouldn’t have said anything.

Elain’s head gave a little shake, as if she was trying to clear the tension muddling the air. “I suppose both groups have much to learn about each other,” she murmured, shifting the subject.

“At least there are some people from both sides who are open-minded. Besides, I’m pleasantly surprised that such a charity exists,” Lucien said, further pushing away from talk of sex and pleasure.

“Y-you should come with me n-next time!” Elain offered, stumbling over her words. “I’m going next week. If you’d like to come?”

Lucien blinked, dumbfounded. “That sounds good to me,” he agreed casually, though his heart soared with anticipation. “Maybe I can ask for their opinions on Tarquin’s initiatives.”

***Week Two - Elain***

“Elain!” Viviane was knocking on the door. “Elain! Let’s go on a walk!” Elain had no idea why the High Lady of Winter wanted to spend time with her when they’d only exchanged small talk before, but she gladly accepted. She had been reading Lucien’s packet of Summer Court laws. Nikon and Melanie were on a tour of Adriata with Alis. Balthazar and Emerie had gone to the training ring with Varian, leaving her alone in the suite.

Though she was glad for her friends’ return to Adriata this morning, Elain felt like shit after hearing about all they’d accomplished during their little round table. Nikon had done thorough research on Velaris’s city code regarding Lesser Fae on top of his regular healer and council member duties. Melanie had met with the Hewn City’s economic bureau to obtain records on Lesser Fae-owned businesses. Emerie and Balthazar had upped their correspondence across the Illyrian war camps, enforcing a better division of labor between males and females.

What did I do this past week? Catch up on High Lords lore that everybody already knows? Visit a human charity and do some chores? Elain knew she had made progress with Lucien, but when it came to Fae equality, she was a piss-poor delegate. Even Lucien himself was busy with Tarquin’s assignments.

What she didn’t tell Lucien yesterday was how foolish she’d felt for bringing flowers to Safe Harbor House. It was a move only a naive child would make, thinking flowers were what the humans needed. Perhaps Lizzie’s kind reaction to the bouquet was only out of politeness.

Yes, she was in dire need of a walk to lighten her mood.

As they strolled down the Summer Palace’s gold and coral accented corridors, Elain inquired about Violetta, the Winter Court, and Viviane’s role at Tarquin’s conference. She learned how Violetta had a very dangerous love for the massive white bears, that the Winter Court maintained extensive greenhouses to produce their food (“oh, Elain, you must visit and sample our newest variety of iceberry”). Elain also discovered that Viviane was interested in bringing Tarquin’s reforms to her court, and that she had a meeting with Cresseida and Emerie tomorrow to discuss female leadership.

Another reason why Feyre or Mor should have been here instead of me, Elain sighed inwardly. They would have plenty to talk about in the little female leadership group.

Gauzy blue corridors soon gave way to soft tan and white stone terraces. The low-hanging afternoon sun warmed the exposed skin on Elain’s arms as a breeze ruffled the pleated skirt of her sea-green dress. Her attention was naturally drawn to the leafy palm fronds and richly colored blooms in the garden on her right. Elain shifted her direction slightly, but Viviane looped her arm around Elain’s.

“Pretty flowers, are they not?” Viviane said brightly. “I saw the most beautiful hibiscus tree the other day. It must have been on the other side of the palace, and I’ve been meaning to show you. Come!”

Elain reluctantly allowed Viviane to veer left. Sure enough, an exotic tropical flower in a brilliant magenta color emerged after several yards.

“It’s truly beautiful.” Elain marveled at the prominent stamen with its pollen-laden droplets, the little splash of yellow at the core of the hibiscus, and its ruffled petals. Viviane plucked two hibiscus flowers off the tree, tucking one behind her ear before doing the same to Elain. The High Lady of Winter’s fingers were cool in the humidity. “Are we allowed to do this?” Elain asked nervously.

“Yes, Cresseida says we can,” Viviane assured her. Viviane took a step back to admire Elain’s new look, then smiled with smug satisfaction. “Come! We must make haste!” Viviane continued moving towards the left.

The High Lady of Winter was usually a cheerful person, but Viviane seemed a tad too excited for a simple walk. Though Viviane’s arm was loose, Elain had a vague sensation of being corralled along the terrace.

After several minutes, Elain spied a small crowd gathered ahead, looking down at something below. The slicing and singing of steel made her skin prickle when she realized Viviane had taken her to the palace training ring. Tarquin stood at the balcony, wearing a simple navy tunic with a gold collar. He raised his hand in greeting. “Let’s go!” Viviane practically dragged Elain with renewed urgency.

The next sparring match had already started by the time they reached the crowd. Excitement thickened the air as Elain wedged her way towards Tarquin.

“What’s happening?” Elain had to raise her voice as whistles and cheers erupted around her. Is this really a training ring? It feels like I’ve come to a public boxing match. She could spy Emerie and Balthazar clad in Illyrian leathers and taking a water break on the side.

“Take a look below.” Tarquin smiled, mischief twinkling in his turquoise eyes.

Elain nearly gasped when she glanced down. Lucien was sparring with Varian. Lucien was also shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose brown breeches and black shoes. His broad shoulders and abdomen flexed as he whirled and slashed the air with a wooden pole. Elain was unable to tear her eyes away, seeing Lucien heft the staff effortlessly and nimbly dance over the packed dirt.

Varian himself was also shirtless, his dark brown skin gleaming with sweat as he expertly twirled the staff in the air as he backflipped away from Lucien. More cheers and hollers arose from the crowd.

Thank gods Amren isn’t here, otherwise she would take a bite out of the pretty court ladies cheering Varian on, Elain thought wryly. Although Varian certainly cut an impressive figure, Elain only had eyes for Lucien.

The fact that Lucien was not only meeting the Captain of the Guard’s strikes and jabs, but also pushing back had Elain impressed. She should have known Lucien was a trained warrior, for he survived the battle with Hybern. But she’d always seen him as a composed courtier.

Never like this, with his red hair flashing and his brows narrowed in deep concentration. A ruthless combination of moves were delivered in quick succession, revealing the lethal male that lay beneath the calm demeanor. The golden thread within Elain hummed with delight as she watched.

When Varian managed to land a jab on Lucien’s pectoral, Lucien’s lip curled, revealing white teeth in a growl. It should have scared Elain, should have put her off. But Lucien’s feral move seemed to only stir Elain’s baser instincts, eliciting a satisfied twitch of her mouth.

Elain watched as Lucien feinted left, throwing Varian off just enough to swipe the staff and knock the Captain of the Guard off his feet. A cheer went up, this time for Lucien. Varian leapt to his feet, undeterred and snarling. The two males clashed their staffs again, kicking up dust and straining muscles.

A tiny voice at the back of Elain’s mind chided her for staring so brashly at a shirtless male. But how could she not, when those beautiful clothes had previously hidden such a finely muscled physique?

After another minute, the timer dinged and signaled the end of the sparring session. Lucien and Varian broke apart, breathing hard.

Elain’s mouth went dry when Lucien glanced up at her, his eyes gleaming and his chest heaving. Standing up on the balcony, she was fully aware she was like a fair lady who had caught the eye of the tournament’s favored knight. Or was it the knight that had caught her eye? At this point, all she needed was a handkerchief or a rose to toss down to him.

“Look at that handsome male with the red hair.” Elain’s pointed ears twitched, catching several courtly females murmuring behind her. “What’s his name?” “He must be one of the Vanserra brothers…and you know what they say. Autumn Court males fuck like they have fire in their veins.”

Elain nearly choked. Drooling over Lucien shirtless was one thing, but fucking him was another matter. Now was not the time to be thinking about those things—

“Whew, the things I would let him do to me…”

Excuse me, but YOU don’t get to do anything with him. He’s mine! Hot jealousy flashed, awakening something feral within Elain as well. Something ridiculously possessive.

Elain blinked, startled at the sudden viciousness within her. My relationship with Lucien may be tenuous at best. But that didn’t mean I appreciate other females cooing over him, she tried to rationalize. Perhaps Amren wasn’t here to snap at the onlookers fawning over her Varian. But Elain could do something to put an end to this inane tittering.

A silence fell as Elain pushed her way through the crowd and marched down the steps. It wasn’t until she was halfway down that Elain realized she’d been foolish. What the hell was I thinking?!? I should have thought this through…what would I even say to Lucien?

Meanwhile Lucien was speaking quietly with Varian, but Elain knew he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. She spied a water stand several yards away. Thinking quickly, Elain grabbed two cups and filled them with water.

Water isn’t food. Offering him water doesn’t mean I accept the mating bond. I am not accepting the mating bond. Elain had committed that bit of knowledge to memory years ago. But as she approached the two males, Elain could feel her hands trembling.

Varian’s brown eyes flicked back and forth between Elain and Lucien as he took the cup with a nod of thanks. The Captain of the Guard had the good sense to wander off towards Balthazar and Emerie, leaving Elain and Lucien alone.

Lucien’s sweat had mixed with his regular scent of warm apples and crisp leaves. Perhaps it was because the heat enhanced his scent, or perhaps it was because his bare chest was close enough for Elain to touch…whatever it was, Elain felt lightheaded.

“I didn’t know you could fight like that,” Elain blurted out as she handed him the cup. Her brown eyes skated over the burnished brown planes of Lucien’s abdomen, the glistening rivulets of sweat gathered on his collarbone before she could stop herself.

Lucien must have caught her checking him out, for he flashed her a casual grin that sent Elain’s heart pitter-pattering. “Thank you for the water, my lady. Did anything else surprise you?” he teased roguishly.

Elain’s pale cheeks blushed again. “I’m just impressed, that’s all,” she mumbled.

Lucien looked up at the crowd still gathered on the balcony behind her, at the courtly ladies who were staring slack-jawed. When his golden eye whirred and clicked at her, Elain knew that he’d surmised why exactly she’d come running down.

His foxy grin deepened with arrogant male satisfaction. Lucien cocked his head, reaching for her face with his hand. Elain froze, hearing only the rapid thundering of her heart, as he tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ear and adjusted the hibiscus. “Nice flower,” he said nonchalantly.

What a rakish flirt!

While Elain stood stunned, Lucien called over his shoulder, “Hey Varian, how about some cool down laps?” Varian turned from his conversation to give Lucien an eager salute. “It was nice seeing you today, my lady. I shall catch you later.” With that, Lucien and Varian jogged off into the setting sun, leaving Elain ogling at her mate’s well-defined back muscles.

Catch me later? A flirt indeed! Despite her amused indignation, Elain couldn’t refrain from directing a smug look at the females on the balcony. She was not the only one, for up above, Viviane and Tarquin exchanged a smug low-five.

Resources linked here!

Read: Ch 12

#elucien #elucien fic #elain archeron #lucien vanserraa #elain x lucien #summer court #acotar #acotar fanfic

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homemade-ghosts · 2 years

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What do you think ricky and gina get from eachother that they don't get from anyone else?

Warning: This is about to be one very long post (and I’m only vaguely sorry about that lol)

Ricky & Gina have a foundation of deep, mutual understanding that allows them to feel comfortable and safe with one another in a way they themselves have acknowledged no one else can.

When Ricky leaves the musical because Nini accuses him of not taking it seriously, of wasting everyone’s time, of taking up space that should belong to someone else, someone who really cares, it’s Gina who convinces him to come back. In their very first on-screen conversation, no less. Of course, we can’t really blame Nini for operating on the assumption that Ricky doesn’t care about the musical because, by his own admission, Ricky only joined the musical to get her back. Nini doesn’t understand that it’s become something more to him now. Ricky, insecure about being completely out of his element with all of this musical theatre stuff, heads to somewhere he feels comfortable, in his element: the skatepark. It’s there that Gina finds him and reassures him that being an outsider to the theatre is not a weakness, like Nini had implied, but a strength. He brings a new perspective, keeps “everyone on their toes” and brings his own “style” to the role, a realness that no one inside the sphere of drama/theatre possibly could. It is only then that Ricky comes back and fights to prove he deserves his part in the show. Well, fights to prove it to Nini, Gina already knows he deserves it. I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that this first interaction between Ricky & Gina was not Gina trying to get Ricky to rejoin the musical out of the goodness of her heart. She overhears Ricky, after he quit, saying that, if he comes back, Nini will probably leave the show. Gina wants the lead, she wants to play Gabriella, so she manipulates Ricky into staying in the hopes that, when he comes back, Nini will quit and Gina (the understudy) can take Nini’s place. Even though Gina’s intentions weren’t honorable, there is still a level of understanding there. After all, in order to successfully manipulate someone, you have to know what they need to hear, you have to understand them.

So, Ricky & Gina understand each other at the skatepark, but it’s under false pretenses. It’s not until Homecoming, a few episodes later, that this understanding becomes genuine. Real. Ricky is back in the show, but Nini still hasn’t left. Gina’s plan didn’t work. So, she comes up with another plan (albeit, a half-baked one): go to the homecoming dance with EJ, Nini’s ex, in hopes that Nini will...see them together and get so upset she’ll quit the show? Yeah, even Gina knows this probably won’t work. I think she mostly goes because, having moved around so much, she’s likely never been to a school dance before, much less with a date (a fake one, but still) and she wanted that quintessential high school experience. Anyway, Nini isn’t even at the dance. Ricky, however, is. Here’s where everything changes. He waits for EJ to leave, slides into the seat next to Gina and, in effort to look out for her in the same way she looked out for him episodes before, tells her, “You can do better than EJ. That guy’s bad news.” When she strikes a nerve with the response, “You’re not exactly one to give relationship advice and when I want your opinion, I’ll ask.” He fires back by telling her that he thought she was classier than this, that she’s too ambitious for her own good, which heavily implies, to me at least, that he sees what Gina is doing here. He gets why she came with EJ: to parade their fake relationship in front of Nini. His comment hits way too close to home though and, on Red’s insistence, he finds Gina at the coat check area outside the dance to apologize. He admits that who she hangs out with, or doesn’t hang out with, isn’t any of his business. He shouldn’t have involved himself. When Gina asks why he did, we get the first verbal acknowledgment of the understanding that these two characters share. Ricky says, “Good question, I don’t know. It’s like, I’m an outsider to the theatre stuff, right? And you’re, like, an outsider to East High. I thought we sort of, like, got each other.” It feels as though there might be a small, barely recognizable hint of jealousy in his words, but more than anything, I think he is trying to remind her that he sees who she is and what she needs (he genuinely thinks, at this point, that EJ is not a good guy and that Gina deserves better) just as much as she saw who he is and what he needed at the skatepark that night. Following this moment, it’s established that they might have even more in common with each other than they already think. Ricky tells Gina he’s sorry for what he said, that his world and home life has been “a little upside down” and Gina commiserates, telling him he isn’t the only one with home drama -- but she doesn’t say it in a way that makes Ricky feel selfish or implies one of their problems is bigger than the other's. Her eyes soften, she gives him the briefest of smiles. There it is again: that connection, that understanding.

Pulled up in front of Gina’s house after Ricky gave her a ride home from the dance, Ricky thanks her. “You’re the reason I stayed with the show.” That night at the skatepark, he says, she set him straight. The facade, the manipulation, dropped the moment Ricky followed Gina out of Homecoming, but you can still see the remorse on Gina’s face. We can see how sorry she is, how she regrets her motives that night -- but, she realizes, she wasn’t lying. “I meant what I said,” she turns back to tell him, before she opens the car door to head inside, “that night at the skatepark, about you having your own style. I don’t even think I knew how much I meant it when I said it.” Then, after a night of just...getting each other, of laughing in the car, of “thank you”s, of talking about how much theatre, and the safe space it creates, means to both of them, Gina kisses Ricky on the cheek. Their faces linger, inches apart from one another. For the first (but certainly not the last) time, we see their emotional closeness manifest into a physical closeness. We see just how much this means to Gina, to feel seen in a way that allows her to drop her guard, to be vulnerable. Ricky made her feels safe, unjudged, not scary...and because of Ricky, Gina isn’t so much a new version of herself as she is all of herself.

Fast-forward to season 2 (I could keep talking about their relationship in season 1, believe me, but I’ve gotta move this post along or I’ll be writing it for a week and, next thing you know, a simple ask will become a 20-page research paper that no one asked for lol). Their relationship is a little strained and a lot confusing (at least for Gina, we don’t get Ricky’s POV, but I have faith that his perspective is coming, in a big way, in the upcoming eps of season 3). Gina came into Ricky’s life and helped him realize that change, though scary, is not actually something to be afraid of. He was learning to accept his parents separation, the fact that his mom had a new boyfriend, to embrace and feel confident in his newfound role as a “theatre kid” and to move on from Nini (he completely stop pursuing her after his night with Gina at Homecoming). He was moving on from the past, toward his future. All of that growth came crashing down, however, when Gina moved. When Ricky watched her leave at that Thanksgiving party, tears in his eyes, change, once again, became something that hurts, not heals. So, with Gina (his catalyst for change) gone, Ricky regressed. He clung to Nini because she was familiar, she reminded him of what life was like when they were together the first time around, when his parents were happy, when life was easier and everything was the same, nothing changed.

Ricky thought he would never see Gina again and, by the time she came back, he had already gotten back together with Nini. Now there was tension. Ricky tried to soften their relationship, to make it seem more friendly, not because he & Gina were ever really just friends, but because he was trying desperately to hold onto what he had with Nini, to repeat the past so he wouldn’t have to face the future. He couldn’t do that if he let himself see Gina as a romantic option again. This made Gina question if Ricky ever really liked her, romantically, in the first place. Was he just being friendly this whole time? Even with all this strangeness between them, it’s Ricky who Gina goes to when she misses her mom. They’ve talked about their moms before, both absent in their own ways, both making their respective children wish for more. So Gina knows, no matter what else is going on, Ricky will understand her. “I get that, missing your mom.” he reassures, and it’s like Gina lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in. Here comes the relief, the comfort, of being understood. “I knew you would.” she smiles, “Sorry, there’s just some things I tell you that I don’t really tell anyone else.” Ricky agrees, “Yeah, no, I think we do that for each other.” He takes a half step closer to her after he says it and, just like that night in Big Red’s car after homecoming, that emotional closeness has manifested itself into a physical one. Ricky really means it, when he agrees that they tell each other things they don’t tell anyone else, too. I mean, Nini, Ricky’s actual girlfriend, didn’t even know he had moved from his childhood home into the apartment he and Gina were now standing in. In contrast, Ricky had not only told Gina that he had moved, but gave her his address too. He, unconsciously or not, knew Nini wouldn’t understand why it hurt to move away from the only home he had ever known. After all, Nini had actively chosen to move away from her childhood home to attend YAC in another state. Even when Nini decided to move back to SLC later that season, she had two loving parents who were in a happy marriage to come home to. Ricky & Gina were both being raised by single parents, both missing the mothers they had not wanted to leave. & Gina knew exactly what it was like to move somewhere unfamiliar and have to turn a house into a home (not only because she has moved around so much in general, but because she had also recently moved into Ashlyn’s house and, although she was grateful to Ash, it did not feel like a home to her). Gina knew Ricky would understand what she was going through. She was right. Ricky knew Gina would understand what he was going through. He was right. Even when Ricky had a girlfriend, Gina was still his person.

Now on to season 3 (or what we’ve seen of it so far). Ricky, having broken up with Nini last season and learned to embrace the change he once rebelled against, is finally free (song title reference intended). Gina is now dating EJ (having gotten together last season once she realized Ricky was no longer an option, romantically. Much the same way that Ricky got back together with Nini in s1 once Gina had moved away and was, say it with me here: no longer an option).

EJ is trying. He brings Gina congratulatory flowers when she gets cast as Anna in Frozen (the flowers look like weeds, but it’s the thought that counts) yet he doesn’t understand what a big deal this is for Gina, that this is something she’s wanted for seasons now. He tells her he knew she’d get the lead, which is meant to be a sweet complement, but comes off as if he thinks her being cast as Anna was a given. He doesn’t acknowledge or understand how hard she worked to get here. He can’t even let her fully celebrate this big win because, soon after giving her the flowers, he completely zones her out. The excitement fades from Gina’s face as she realizes all EJ can think about is his own success (or lack thereof) regarding directing the musical. Ashlyn, Gina’s supposed best friend who, having lived with her for the better part of last school year, should get how much finally getting the lead means to Gina...but she doesn’t. Ashlyn gets cast in the ensemble and starts spiraling, thinking about why she didn’t get the lead and trying to find someone (or something) to blame for that. Gina sacrificed her solo to audition with Ashlyn (& Kourtney) last semester, which is what helped Ash land the lead of Belle. Gina was nothing but congratulatory and supportive of her surrogate sister then, unfortunately, Ashlyn can’t/doesn’t really return the favor. After coming to terms with her own place in the show, Ashlyn does tell Gina she deserves the role, but it's too little too late. Ricky is the only person who understands what a big deal Anna is for Gina, not only because Troy was a big deal for him in season 1, but because he could see how hard Gina worked for it. Earnestly, he tells her, “I’m proud of you.” while shining his flashlight on her like a makeshift spotlight (not sure if this bit was intentional, but it’s interesting how Gina tells EJ that she’s had to deal with years of being “almost in the spotlight, but not quite.” and that night, Ricky gives her her very own spotlight). Ricky doesn’t make it about himself. He lets Gina bask in her own success. He lets it be about her. She laughs it off, but they both know she needed it and that he meant it.

When Gina tells EJ her mom is moving back to Salt Lake, he can’t even pretend to be truly happy for her because, once again, he’s too busy thinking about himself (this time, about how he might have to move away -- a fact which he actively chooses to hide from Gina, despite him being the first person she told about her big news). We don’t get Ricky’s reaction to finding out that Gina’s mom has moved back (maybe we will in an upcoming ep?) but I couldn’t help but think that Ricky would understand how much it means for Gina to have her mom back in her life, physically. Just like he understood last Valentine’s Day. Not only was EJ too preoccupied to celebrate, but even if he wasn’t, I don’t think he would understand what a big deal this is. EJ has a parent who is consistently present in his life, to an overbearing and controlling degree, and he seems to want to be out from under his father’s thumb. He actively wishes his dad had a smaller presence in his life and I don’t think he could relate to Gina actually wanting to live with and spend time with her mom.

Ricky is in awe of Gina. Her confidence and talent and her belief & understanding of him inspires him to be better. In season 1, he left the show twice because he didn't believe he was a good enough leading man for Nini, he thought he was ruining her big moment and, if we're being honest, because leaving was the easier thing to do. Now, Ricky gets it. He sees how important it is to show up for the people he loves and, instead of leaving, he puts in the work. He offers to sing "Love is an Open Door" with Gina so she'll get a chance to impress Corbin (and, tbh, just because he just wants to sing with her. Somebody tell that boy he's literally playing her romantic lead and he's about to get a duet of his very own, because I don't think he knows). He goes off to practice his lines once he sees how amazing Gina is in her role. He puts in the work to be there for her. He doesn't leave when things get difficult because he understands the best way to show how much he cares is to "show up and stick around."

In the end, it comes down to this: Ricky loved Nini, I’m not here to argue otherwise. Gina wants to love EJ (Alexa, play “I wanna love you, but I don’t” by Ben Platt) but what good is love, or the pursuit of it, when there’s no understanding? What is love if you are not truly seen by the person who loves you? Ricky and Gina understand each other, they see each other and, in time, I’m confident they’ll realize they love each other, too.

#take a shot every time i say some form of the word 'understand'#i tried to condense this but then i gave up i'm sorry it's so long #ricky x gina #hsmtmts #rina #gina porter #ricky bowen #asks

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