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katyasrussianaccent · 3 years

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symptom of your touch (natasha romanoff x reader)

Author's note: This is my first natasha smut fic, been writing it in my head for so long. Hopefully you enjoy this piece of self-indulgent smut!

Summary: You're Tony's personal assistant with a crush on Black Widow. Could it be possible that she might feel the same?

Warnings: Bathroom sex, bottom! Nat.

The first time you met Natasha was in the meeting room at Stark tower. You’d been working as Tony’s personal assistant for about two months now; a job that was both unexpected but incredibly appreciated - the daily bills through your letterbox were getting more and more threatening, red words in large letters demanding money you didn’t have.

You were a friend of Sam’s; you used to jog together before you were replaced by Captain America. You didn’t mind, not really, because well, it was Captain America. You couldn’t compete with that ass. And while you didn’t jog as much, Sam always made sure you were okay.

Like most people; you were a fan of the Avengers. If you had to pick a favourite, it would have been Black Widow. Maybe it was because she was the only woman, but there was something about her that you just really liked. And it wasn’t just because she’s really fucking hot and you’re really gay.

You had walked into the meeting room; your hands full with various drinks. For superheroes, the Avengers were really particular about their drink orders; for instance Thor gets really annoyed if they forget the whipped cream on his hot chocolate. You walked round the room, handing each drink out and trying to not look so obvious as you eavesdropped. You handed Clint his drink and turned towards Natasha. You assumed she had been away on a mission, because she hadn’t been around until now. You swallowed a little; the object of your affections was literally sitting right in front of you.

“Agent Romanoff,” you said, holding out her drink; a matcha green tea latte. She looked at you for a second, a thoughtful look on her face as she cocked her head towards Tony.

“What happened to…..?” Natasha trailed off, looking at Tony expectantly.

“Shannon. Pregnant,” Tony answered, putting his hands out over his abdomen to mimic a pregnant stomach. “She was two seconds away from turning the floor into a slip and slide.”

Natasha scrunched her nose up before looking back at you. She took the drink from your hand, a small smile on her face before she turned back to the team. And it was in that brief moment, that you knew that she was going to be a big problem for you.

It’s a while before you see Natasha again; not that you were keeping check. You’re in the meeting room cleaning up; humming a song as you pick up pieces of paper. The door opens and you look behind to see Natasha standing in the doorway.

“Oh. Good afternoon Agent Romanoff,” you say, smiling. She was in her civilian clothes; a simple tank top and dark jeans. The jeans are practically molded to her shape, and it takes every ounce of willpower to not stare at her ass as she passes behind you. You aren’t sure how someone could make such a simple outfit look so amazing. “Did you need something?”

“Clint, he forgot his phone,” she replies, walking behind you and grabbing the cell phone that lay on the table. “I swear he would forget his head if it wasn’t attached.”

“Good thing he has you to keep him in check.”

She smiles politely in reply but doesn’t respond as she walks towards the door. Your mouth opens slightly to say something, anything, to make her stay just a little bit longer. You fail to do so in time, and you sigh as the door closes and the room is empty again. You aren’t sure what makes Natasha so fascinating, you’ve spoken to her literally twice, but there’s just something about her that makes her so enigmatic. Though you suppose it’s literally her job to be like that, and you briefly think of the people that have fallen under her spell.

It’s strange, how although she’s incredibly dangerous, she feels just like a normal person, a person that could kill you in one move, but a normal person nonetheless.

You’re chopping tomatoes in the kitchen, your mind starting to zone out as you watch the knife slice through with ease. It’s been a long day; while working for Tony has been a lifeline that you desperately needed, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so tired. The fridge door beside you closes, and you startle at the sudden noise, the knife moves from the tomato to your finger, the pain sharp as blood begins to pool in the cut.

“Fuck,” you say, hissing as you press you other hand against the cut, moving to the sink to run it under water.

“I am so sorry,” a voice says behind you, and you turn your head to see Natasha at your side. “Are you okay?”

You sigh a little, “I’m fine, but the tomatoes are ruined.”

Natasha moves nearer to you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from her body and any previous pain you felt has suddenly disappeared at the mere proximity of her. “It’s okay, Stark can afford a few tomatoes.”

You giggle before reaching over to get a paper towel, but Natasha beats you to it, pressing the towel onto your wound wordlessly.

“Baby,” she mutters as you wince and you look at her, mouth agape in shock. She ignores you, and you take this opportunity to look at her as she tends to the small cut on your finger. She must have been somewhere hot on her last mission; from this close you can see the slight colour on her nose and cheekbones where she’s caught the sun. As she moves out of your personal space, the scent of her invades your nostrils and you’re surprised that she smells so delicate and floral.

“I think you’ll live” she says, jutting her chin out to point to the small band aid on your finger.

“Have you ever thought about being a doctor?”

“Why? My bedside manner not appealing to you?” she asks, and you look down to hide the blush on your face as you think briefly about what Natasha’s bedside manner could entail.

“Uh, not at all, it’s very appealing. I mean, not very appealing -”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she says as she leaves the kitchen, leaving you with a bandaid on your finger and a warmth between your thighs.

The first thing you notice about the party is how loud it is. It’s Tony’s birthday, so Stark tower has been transformed into a full on party tower. The room is crammed with people, and you take a moment to look around to see if you can find someone you know to attach yourself to. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, you just weren’t the type to spark a conversation with strangers. You can see Thor in the middle of the room, holding a keg as Steve is on the floor chugging from it. Guess even Captain America needs to let loose sometimes.

You bite your lip as you scan the people near you, your eyes zeroing in Natasha. You take the opportunity to watch her briefly from a distance. She looks amazing, a simple black dress that has a slit to the upper thigh that shows a delicious amount of leg when she moves. You haven’t spoken since she called you cute, and the more you thought about it, the more confused you were. While cute was a compliment, you weren’t sure if she meant it in a puppy kind of way. Sexy wasn’t the first thing you thought about yourself, but you kind of wish that she had picked a better word. Maybe you were just imagining tension that wasn’t there because you hoped it was there.

You exhale any nervousness and plaster a smile on your face as you walk towards her. She raises an eyebrow in greeting and you wave at her, immediately regretting it.

“Hi,” you greet and she smiles a little.

“You look nice,” she says, her eyes roaming over your body. Okay, maybe you weren’t imagining things.

You blush, your face feeling warm as you mutter a quiet thanks. “It has pockets,” you respond lamely, putting your hands in them and pulling the dress out, like she needs to be shown what pockets were.

“Drink?” Natasha asks, cocking her head towards the bar. You shake your head. “You don’t drink?”

“I do, just not here. I don’t want to make an idiot of myself in front of my boss,” you answer. You don’t have a problem with alcohol per se, you just never know when to call it quits. And while drunk you is fun, you really want to make a good impression.

Natasha nods in understanding but walks off towards the bar anyway, and you stand there for a second confused before following.

“Two virgin daiquiris,” you hear her say as you get to her. You can see the bartender pull a face at the request, but it quickly disappears when he sees who’s ordering.

“Coming up,” he mumbles, his eyes glued to anywhere but Natasha as he moves with haste.

“I think you scared him,” you comment and Natasha smiles a little, a smug smile that shouldn’t be so sexy, but it really is.

“I get that a lot,” she replies and you hum in acknowledgement. “Do I scare you?”

The question takes you aback and you ponder a moment before answering. “Do you want me to be scared of you?”

“Answer the question,” she says, a little firm in her tone.

“No. No you don’t scare me.”

She purses her lips. “I think you might be one of the only ones not scared of me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing.

“Fear is a very powerful thing. I like the way it feels,” she says, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen her look so vulnerable.

“There are other powerful emotions other than fear,” you reply. You aren’t sure how to respond to her, serious conversation was not your strong suit.

“Like?”

“Lust. Love. Anger.”

There’s a beat of silence between you as you look at each other, your eyes reading over her unreadable face, nothing on her features to give away what she's thinking.

“So you aren’t scared of me. What emotion do you feel?” Natasha asks, causing you to splutter as you take a sip of you drink and you’re suddenly wishing your drink had alcohol in it.

“Out of the three I just gave?” you ask and she nods. “Uh well, I hadn’t um really thought about it.”

It’s stupid of you, to lie to a literal spy and you know for a fact she know’s you’re lying.

“That’s not true,” she replies and you take a sideways glance at her. “You think I haven’t noticed you looking at me?”

Your heartbeat quickens and you start to stammer an apology. “I - “

“I know, because I’ve been looking at you too.”

“Wait what?” you ask incredulously. “Are you sure there’s no booze in this drink?”

Natasha laughs and you smile at the sight of her. “Very sure. You’re very cute, did you know that?”

“I did not, but now I do. I’ll be honest, this doesn’t happen to me a lot, so I’m not really sure what to say or do.”

She slides closer to you, a smirk on her face as she leans close, her breath warm on your cheek. “Well there’s a bathroom over there.”

It takes a minute for you to register what she means, and you can see her wait patiently as you look at the bathroom door across the room and then back at her. The blood is rushing in your ears as you grab her hand and pull her across the room, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The bathroom is luckily empty when you both enter, and your hands don’t leave hers as you push her into the stall furthest away from the door. You open your mouth to speak but it’s interrupted as she surges forward, her lips on yours. She tastes like strawberries with a slight hint of booze, and you wonder how many drinks she’s had before you arrived. You find yourself not really caring as her hands move to your neck, yours follow down to her hips, your fingertips ghosting her back.

You’ve kissed before, but this is different, like fireworks and gunpowder in a small room; every nerve in your body alight with hot, searing fire. You switch her round so her back is against the door, your hands roaming ever inch of her body, tight muscle beneath your fingertips. Part of you wants to take your time, explore every part of her, but the greedy part of your brain wins out and it’s not long before you’ve got one hand moving in between her thighs.

Your mouth is on her neck, licking and sucking at the hollow of her collarbone, a small moan falling from her lips and you want to hear that sound again and again. She opens her legs and you cup her above her panties before going underneath them, your fingers moving past soft curls and into the warm, wetness of her pussy.

You curl your fingers up, and she gasps, her breath hot and fast against your skin. You move them inside her, pumping in and out slowly as her hand grips at your hip. It feels powerful; to have the great Black Widow fucking herself on your fingers in an act of desperation.

“Please,” she whispers as you continue to slowly move.

“Please what?” you ask, stopping completely causing a small whine to escape her lips.

“Please fuck me,” Natasha replies, rolling her hips against your fingers.

“Okay,” you say simply. You press a kiss to her cheek before sinking to your knees. A brief thought about gross bathroom floors crosses your mind, but you push it away as her hand strokes your hair. She takes the hint and pulls her dress up around her hips. Your hands move up her thighs, nudging them apart so you can pull down the lacy underwear she wears; shoving them into your bag. Pressing kisses up her thigh, her breath hitches as your mouth ghosts against her clit. She sighs as your tongue swipes at her once before moving in to circle at her clit with your tongue.

She moans, a low, quiet moan that ends quickly as you both hear the bathroom door open, the chatter of two women filling the once silent room. You look up at her, raising an eyebrow in question. Natasha looks down at you, a slight flush on her cheeks as she nods. You place a finger to your lips, before moving back between her thighs. She tastes sweet, sweeter than you imagined, but there’s something there, a slight tang that makes your tongue tingle. Of course she would taste fucking perfect; everything about her is perfect, and you can’t stop yourself from tasting her more and more, drinking her in.

Your fingers join your mouth and she’s warm as she clenches with every movement inside her. She’s jutting her hips against your mouth, and you can feel your wrist start to cramp as you fuck her roughly, but you know she’s close, the grip in your hair getting harder. It’s starting to get uncomfortable, your knees are starting to hurt, but you want to make her come undone, to fall apart.

You hook her leg over your shoulder to get deeper, never stopping the pace as you fuck her. Her body begins to shudder, and you look up to see her shove a fist in her mouth at the exact moment the toilet next to you flushes. A moan escapes her but neither of you seem to care as she rides the wave of her orgasm. Her chest has a sheen of sweat, and you want to run your tongue over it, taste the salt of her skin. But that’s for another time.

Natasha looks down at you as she tries to catch her breath, and you get to your feet ungracefully, wincing as your knees twinge. There’s uncertainty in your stomach as you look at her. What does this mean, does it mean anything to her? You had just made her cum in a bathroom stall, but maybe that was normal. It wasn’t to you, but normality was subjective.

“This party’s kind of boring, do you want to get something to eat?” Natasha asks, breaking you from your inner turmoil. You blink at her as your brain registers what she’s saying. The once uncertain voice in your head is screaming at you to say yes.

“Sure,” you reply simply.

“Cool,” she says, nodding, her face still slightly flushed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say she felt a little awkward.

“I’m not getting those panties back am I?” she asks as you walk towards the bathroom door and head back into the party.

“Nope,” you say, patting your bag for good measure. “Besides, you might not need them.”

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Deep Breaths

Valkyrae x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Panic Attack, Mentions of past domestic abuse, Mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, Swearing

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst to Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having received a call from the correctional facility where their alcoholic/drug addict mother is being kept, Y/N gets some intense nightmarish flashbacks to a time that still haunts them despite a decade having passed. Luckily their girlfriend Rae is there to comfort therm.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your lovely request, I hope I captured what you wanted to read! Sorry it has taken me so long to complete and post the fic, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Love, Vy ❤

“Hey Y/N, I-“ One step in the living room and that’s all it took for Rae to pick up on the melancholic mood in the room.

Her partner hasn’t even noticed she’s entered. Instead, they are sitting hunched over on the couch, elbows on knees, hand seeking their hands’ support to stay upright and their eyes hiding a thousand yard stare that’s got Rae worried sick.

“Babe, what’s wrong?“ She asks softly, inching closer to the couch to take a seat next to Y/N, “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?“

Through the fog surrounding their brain, they somehow manage to catch onto Rae’s words, forcing themself to give her at least a nod in response as to not scare her with their unresponsiveness. They can’t bring themselves to speak, it’s too hard on them to even think of what to say let alone spit it out, especially when their chest feels like it’s caught fire and their mind is still going haywire, heartbeat thumping in their ears as the adrenaline rush refuses to cease.

“Hey, look at me...“ Instead of sitting down, Rae ducks down in front of Y/N, taking their hands in hers, almost wincing at how cold they were. “Tell me what’s bothering you, baby.“

The girl is trying her best not to freak out or lose her cool, despite her already quickened heartbeat she can hear in her ears. She has every right to be reacting the way she is. Her permanently happy, bubbly, optimistic and cheerful partner who always seems to be as energized as though they’d just had a gallon of coffee is now a pale ghost sitting statue-still, staring off into the void with eyes that look empty yet terrified simultaneously.

Y/N’s mouth falls open as though they want to say something but the words die out somewhere along the way, refusing to leave their mouth and give them the relief of sharing their pain with the only person they trust limitlessly. “I-...“ They finally manage to find their voice though their gaze is still avoiding hers, “I got a call from the correctional facility where....” They trail off, a bitter taste forming in their mouth, making their stomach turn and bite the inside of their cheek as they feel the urge to throw up start to become unbearable. “She wants to s-see me...”

They don’t need to say anything else, Rae’s already connected the dots and her complexion has gone just as pale as theirs. She knows how sensitive and triggering this topic is for Y/N, how many bad memories are tied to this one person in their life. To make matters worse, they’re the one person who was supposed to take care of them yet she couldn’t even take care of herself - Y/N’s mother.

Rae distinctly remembers the night Y/N told her the truth about their family life - or the lack thereof - almost a year since the two had started dating. Rae never questioned their secretiveness and respected their privacy enough not to ask about it, patiently waiting for them to tell her on their own time and own terms. It was no secret even from the very start that Y/N had a very hard time connecting to people and trusting them. It took them maybe two or so months to be able to call their now-girlfriend a friend instead of an acquaintance. Rae didn’t question that too, didn’t push to pursue a friendship with them since, from her point of view, they were already her friend, so she patiently waited for them to come around and start trusting her enough to accept her within their tightknit circle of trusted people called ‘friends’.

Things progressed from purely platonic to sweetly romantic a little more quickly which pleasantly surprised Rae. The two were quick to grow to be inseparable though that didn’t mean Y/N gave up all their secrets. The darkest one, which happens to be this one regarding their mother, is the one they hid the longest and the last one they had to share with their girlfriend. The night they did tell it was a very emotional one: plenty of tears were shed by both Y/N and Rae but luckily they had each other’s embrace to seek comfort in and protect themselves from the ghosts and demons of a past Y/N spent so much time running away from.

An abusive parent is not a bit of baggage you can just get rid of. It’s something that weighs so heavy on you and is such a big part of who you are that you can feel it as a part of you. It haunts you no matter how much you try to run or hide. It’s not something you can shake off or forget. You might have physical and visible scars from the time spent with said parent or the trauma can be entirely psychological - regardless, it lives within you. Follows you around, raises questions you’re not sure you want answered, degrades you - making it seem like what happened was your fault in one way or another - it destroys you slowly very time something triggers a memory of that time, be it a simple conversation that has nothing to do with the subject or be it the glimpse you accidentally catch in the mirror of a scar on your body - a scar you remember being inflicted on you like it was yesterday.

That’s how Y/N’s been living. Feeling responsible, feeling unloved, feeling chained to their past. They’ve done all in their power to appear unbothered and let it be visible, not even when around Rae since they don’t want to worry her.

But seeing as their past has caught up to them now and they inevitably have to face it, they’re forced to let it show, they couldn’t hold it in even if they tried. Although they don’t wanna play the unbothered, unfazed part any longer. They have been strong on their own for far too long and it’s taken a toll on them. If they keep up with the act, they’ll be completely and utterly crushed.

Not that they’re feeling any better at the moment.

“Stay with me, Y/N. Stay with me. Keep your eyes on me, ok? Take deep breaths. Deep breaths, baby. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. It’s ok. You’re ok.“ Their short-circuiting brain has been spasming under the influence of the adrenaline, anxiety and panic brought on by the memories of every time they felt small and helpless while at the merciless hand of their alcoholic, drug addict abusive mother, begging to be spared the pain of being hit with whatever object the deranged woman could get her hands on - yet somehow, Rae’s voice still reaches them through all that messy dark fog. “Come on, Y/N, stay with me ok? Please don’t do this, I’m right here, there’s no need to be afraid,”

“I...“ they can barely hear their own voice over the racing of their heart, “I don’t...I don’t wanna go....“ is all they manage to say, a tear falling from their eye.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to go. We won’t go. Your mental health is the most important thing here, Y/N. We’re not going and that’s final.“ Rae replies vigorously, tightening her hold on Y/N’s hands.

Despite the state they’re in, Y/N can’t help but take notice of the use of the word ‘we’, Rae’s reminder that they are not alone, that she’s there for them and will not let them go into this alone. That brings a small smile to their face, calming their heart and panic ever so slightly, “N-no, I have to. It...it’ll help me.” They sigh before attempting to express themself again, “It’ll give me...closure, I guess.”

Seeing that Y/N’s doing a bit better, Rae’s hand move to cup their face instead, pushing the stray strands of hair away for their features to be full exposed to her, especially their eyes, “Are you sure you want that? Can you handle it? It’s not supposed to be your obligation, Y/N. I mean, the woman’s a monster and she hasn’t even thought to contact you in half a decade, and now she suddenly wants to get back in contact? She has the audacity to disturb you after all this time? You don’t have to agree to this, Y/N.”

Y/N shakes their head, “No, no, I want to. I want to agree to this. I want to live a normal life, Rae. I want to leave her and all she did to me behind. And I can’t do that if I keep running away. What happens when I stop to catch my breath? It still catches up to me like I made no progress whatsoever. That’s not a way to live, not the way I wanna live, at least.”

Rae nods slowly, fully understanding what Y/N is referring to. She maybe hasn’t said anything about it ever, but she’s always seen that little bit of darkness behind the happiness and excitement Y/N always displayed. Rae’s heart ached every time she caught glimpse of those little signs Y/N was putting on a performance while actually hurting on the inside.

And if a meeting with their mother was what would help them finally fully embrace a happy life, then who was she to stop them.

“Ok.“ The girl sighs, “Ok, we’ll go see her, but only if you’re 100% sure you’ll be able to handle it.“

They shake their head again, sighing with unease, “I can never be 100% sure, my emotions have a tendency of being unpredictable so I’ll just have to pray I don’t have a breakdown or a panic attack.”

Rae swipes her thumb over their cheekbone wiping the tear that just escaped their eye, “If you do, don’t worry, I’ll be right there. You know the drill: squeeze my hand, take deep breaths and most importantly, don’t forget I’m there for you. Ok?”

Y/N nods their head, the small smile reappearing on their face. They squeeze Rae’s hand and take a long inhale. “Hand squeeze, deep breaths, noted.” They say when their eyes meet hers, “Thank you so much, Rae. Thank you so much for putting up with me and all my shit and thank you so much for never giving up on me no matter how much work I am or how hard dealing with me and my demons becomes.”

Rae’s heart stings at Y/N’s words, tears brimming her eyes when she raises a bit on her knees to press her lips against Y/N’s forehead. “Don’t thank me, angel. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you and I never want to get gratitude for it. Love doesn’t ask for gratitude, and neither do I.”

Y/N lets out a small laugh to cover up an emotional sob that escapes their lungs. “I love you, Rae.” They say with a trembling voice.

“I love you too, Y/N.“

This time, the Y/N’s lips met the lips of their girlfriend, reminding themself that their safe haven isn’t a place, it’s a person - their girlfriend who means the world to them.

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Note

I have a request for Tsukki. So we know he’s mean and snarky to everyone and everything, and he’s like that with his significant other as well. Which is okay. But I wanted you to wright a story about how he gets caught using his boyfriend voice by the volleyball team. He gets all frustrated and flustered cause he got caught being nice. 💖💖💖 Thank you.

Boyfriend Voice

Tsukishima x Reader - Scenario

a/n: okay so i really played around w/ this a bunch and well... it’s basically a crack fic. but i really hope you enjoy this goofy mess i’ve created hehehe. and thank you for the ADORABLE, fluffy request

warnings: language

wc: 970

---

It happens every so often.

You’ll be going about your daily routines and all of a sudden, you’re the embodiment of charm and cuteness.

These situations just happen to occur whenever Tsukishima is close enough to notice.

Something like you trying to reach the top shelf of a cabinet to grab a cookbook. The way you stretch to grasp it, pulling your shirt up and exposing your skin.

Maybe you’re leaning over to speak to a baby and your voice takes on the sweetest nature and quality.

Or you’re being smothered in puppy kisses, tiny paws stamping their prints on your thighs, your giggles filling the span of the room, or echoing off the houses in your neighborhood.

All of these things are objectively good, Tsukki decides

You are undeniably adorable and even Tsukki cannot resist the effect you have on him, swearing you’re going to ruin him someday.

However, if it were only an emotional adjustment he had encountered under those (unfortunately) lovable circumstances, there wouldn’t be much of an issue.

He could deal with the undignified fluttering of butterflies and the pink tint that forced its way onto his profile.

It was the voice that came with those symptoms that gave him such grief.

A voice that grew too fondly of your presence, allowing itself to forget it’s master. Utterly vexing.

Oh, how could it betray him?

Yes, Tsukishima is suffering from and referring to his dreaded “boyfriend voice.”

The pitch raises into a mild and kind tone, showcasing an entirely new side of Tsukki. A side unknown even to himself.

And you just eat it up.

There’s nothing more satisfying than being coated in compliments and teased relentlessly by your blonde boyfriend with a voice that reminds you how genuinely rare you are to him.

Even when he’s insulting the living hell out of you, as long as you’re alone, the “boyfriend voice” will inevitably shine through.

But at school? In public? Around friends?

Hell no.

He had a reputation to uphold. Pride! Standards!

Yet, no matter what he does, things never go according to Tsukishima’s plan.

---

You habitually visit Karasuno’s volleyball practice after school every day.

You’re usually greeted with adoring shouts and rounds of laughter. Pretty, smiling faces, sweaty from jumping and tumbling around the court.

You love that you’ve been so welcomed by your boyfriend's team and you always shoot them your friendliest smile…

But still, you never fail to save your truest charms for Tsukki.

You admire him from afar, observing his build on the court. Always so focused.

He’s intimidating. Daunting. Powerful.

But as soon as he steps off the court, there you are.

His demeanor visibly relaxes, a softness falls over his previously rigid stance, and that honey-golden gaze lights up just enough that you notice… but no one else.

And he tries to remain discreet. Calm, cool, and collected.

That is until you run up to him, gathering him up in an embrace.

He’s sweaty, but it’s okay. You don’t mind.

You missed him today.

And apparently, he’d missed you too, because he instantly has you pressed up against his chest, laying his head atop your own. There were perks to being this tall. This just happened to be one of his favorites.

The team had gone on break, scattered throughout the gym, and noise saturated the room from strategizing and planning.

So he takes a moment to let you know he loves you while everyone else is distracted…

And that beautiful voice decides to join in as well.

It’s sultry but soothing. The alluring expressions dripping into your ears almost like a lullaby.

“Hey, baby… Didn’t your dumbass have to retake that math test from this afternoon? I thought you’d come later.” He jokes with a soft smile on his lips, the harsh words bizarrely refreshing.

“Nah, I told you I passed. Also, we can’t all be big-brained like you, weirdo.” You flick his forehead, playfully.

A few heads turn toward you two, but it goes unnoticed by Tsukki, still watching you closely.

“Maybe if you’d stop procrastinating your cute ass wouldn’t need my help studying anymore.” He shoots back a little too loudly.

The volume in the room drops significantly after that comment, now even more ears turned toward Tsukki, his arms still around you.

Tsukki had only recently warmed up to PDA, so the whole team is in shock, their absolute curiosity taking over.

“Well, whatever. I’m proud of you.” He mumbles out.

There it is. The true boyfriend voice. Sweet and simple.

It isn’t monotone and there isn’t a hint of sarcasm.

He just sounds… happy? Like maybe he isn’t an asshole all the time?

“Tsukishima… are you being nice?” Hinata butts in, practically wedging himself between you two whilst tilting his head, that orange hair flipping with it.

And suddenly, Tsukki is back in the real world, out of his trance.

What had he said again? How did Hinata get there? Had he been there the whole time?

And why is it that the entire Karasuno volleyball team is either gathering around you or staring from afar?

Even Kiyoko’s unable to look away.

“EVERYONE, TSUKISHIMA IS ACTUALLY NICE!” Tanaka blurts out, completely stunned.

Nishinoya is snickering in the corner.

Daichi and Asahi are sick and tired of this team.

“So now we know how y/n can actually deal with him… ahh, the mystery is solved.” Sugawara comments, clearly having wondered this before.

Yamaguchi is doing damage control, trying to calm everyone down.

But before Tsukki can even speak, his body has made a beeline toward the door dragging you behind him by the hand.

His coldhearted demeanor. The calculated image he’s been portraying.

All spoiled.

Because now they know…

That Tsukishima has the capacity for kindness.

That he is only mean and insulting most of the time.

And you two have a lot to talk about on your long walk home because this stupid “boyfriend voice” you love so much is taking over his whole damn life and he has no idea what to do about it.

---

tags: @cherryonigiri

#haikyuu #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hq headcanons #hq imagines #hq fanfic #hq scenarios #tsukishima #tsuki #hq #sneezefiction

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benedictscanvas · 3 years

Text

all the wrong places [6/7] - spencer reid x reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: It only takes a moment for Spencer to realise that he doesn’t just want to marry you someday, he wants to marry you as soon as he possibly can. But since he can’t come up with a solid plan, he turns to his BAU family for help in planning the most important day of his life so far. Is that a mistake? Most definitely.

Warnings: Series probably aren’t meant to be exclusively fluffy, but this one practically is! I need some fluff in my life, damn it! There may be some mention of regular Criminal Minds things, some language but mostly just good ol’ Spence lovin’

---

Chapter Six - Plain and Simple

He lets Rossi’s words ricochet around his mind for the rest of the day. As he packed up their stuff at the police precinct and laughed at Derek’s insistence on just how excited he was to get back to Savannah. As he pretended to be asleep on the jet with his head in your lap and your fingers in his hair. As he drove the two of you home. As he listened to your breathing even out, staring at the ceiling, unable to stop his mind from racing.

Rossi was right. And annoying. And right.

He was still thinking about it when he arrived at work the next morning and Hotch called him into his office within two minutes of his arrival. He looked at you confused, but you simply shrugged, pushing him towards the office with insistence. He shut the door behind him when he entered.

“Everything alright, Hotch?”

“Sit down, Reid.”

Well, that wasn’t a yes. He sat down regardless and waited patiently for Hotch to start talking. Hotch was taking his time, walking at what felt like a snail’s pace to his chair, sitting down, getting comfortable-

“Sir? Is something wrong?”

Spencer wasn’t as patient as he wished. It was something you frequently said you found adorable, but nevertheless it was something he should perhaps think about working on in the future.

“Frankly?” Hotch said, which wasn’t the answer Spencer had been expecting, “Yes, there is something. This upcoming proposal of yours. I’m worried it’s affecting your work.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve tried to propose...four times now?”

“I think it’s five…” Spencer mumbled and Hotch tried not to grimace.

“Clearly you’re getting in your head about it and worrying too much. Since this is on your mind, I wonder if you’d like me to keep you apart on cases, just for a while.”

“I really don’t think that’s-“

“It’s a suggestion, Reid, not a declaration.”

Spencer paused before he answered again. On the one hand, the ring in his satchel had become heavier and heavier as time went on. Looking at you without blurting out every single plan he had for the two of you in the future was becoming harder with each passing second. Was his ability to do his job being hindered by being around you all the time?

No. He was sure that wasn’t true. Since being with you, the both of you had only gotten better at work. You understood each other without having to try, you listened to each other’s thoughts without question, you knew how to keep your relationship professional. Hotch’s worries were unfounded.

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think that will be necessary. Y/N and I have always worked well together and I don’t think there’s any evidence to the contrary in recent months. Unless you see it differently?”

“No, I don’t. I was only offering the option, Reid,” Hotch looked vaguely amused, if Reid had gotten anywhere with reading the stoic face he had grown accustomed to over the years, “A personal question, but why do think you’re struggling with this so much?”

Spencer sighed. Sunk into his chair a little further.

“When I first decided to propose, I wanted it to be objectively perfect. I calculated the risks of every proposal scenario I could think of, deliberated over which combination would be worthy of becoming the moment we’d talk about for the rest of our lives. Then I just froze. Every time. I froze, Hotch.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Rossi said Y/N wouldn’t care how I did it because she’d just want to marry me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to make her cry, you know?” His eyes went wide as he realised how that sounded, “Not like that, just…”

“I know why you freeze. Because you’ve let everyone else get into your head. You’ve tried out everyone else’s ideas before your own, right?”

“...right.”

“So ignore everyone. Except Dave, maybe, since that’s the only solid advice this team has given you. Ignore everyone else and just think about Y/N. You know her better than anyone. If you think about it, about her, then you’ll know what to do.”

“But how do I-“

“Back to work, Reid, I’ve got paperwork to be getting on with.”

“But-“

“Goodbye, Reid.”

There was no room for argument, since Hotch’s eyes were already on the paper on his desk, hauling a large document in front of him and letting out a small huff as he picked up his pen. Spencer sat there immobile for a few more seconds. Waiting. Hotch did nothing to acknowledge him again.

There was nothing to do but leave.

Hotch looked up as he heard his door softly click shut. He smiled, if only a little. If bringing Spencer into the office occasionally to threaten to split the two of you up in the field gave him the push he needed to propose, he might make it a regular arrangement.

---

“What was that about?”

Spencer had made a beeline for the coffee machine as soon as he left Hotch’s office, if only to give him some time to get a story together as to why he’d been called in there. But as soon as he returned with a coffee in each hand, one of which metaphorically had your name on it, you asked him outright.

“He just wanted to check that my shoulder wasn’t still painful.”

“And it isn’t, right?”

You looked almost scary when you were being protective (though it wasn’t like he didn’t love it).

“As I’ve told you 34 times, no it isn’t,” he smiled, handing you your coffee with a small peck to the top of your head. You grimaced at the coffee, unexpectedly, but as you pulled out the two coffees from behind your own back, he grinned.

“Wanted you to have caffeine in case Hotch had been harsh,” you said, grinning yourself. Spencer chuckled a little, taking the coffee you’d made him with a hum of gratitude and walking to his desk with his two coffees. He knew that maybe he should give one of them away, but somehow he didn’t have the heart. That ring was feeling heavier again on his shoulder, and he was grateful for the relief when he shrugged off his satchel and placed it far too tenderly on the floor beside him.

With that the two of you got to work, spending most of the next half hour greeting the rest of the team as, one by one, they trudged into the office with caffeine of their own. With Hotch firmly buried in his paperwork and Rossi such a terrible influence on you all, by the time everyone was into work you had dissolved into friendly chatter rather than work.

“I swear, it’s going to happen this time. Nothing’s going to get in my way.”

“You told her that last time, Derek, and then you were away for two weeks on a serial case. You gotta stop making such big plans!” Penelope argued but Derek shook his head.

“You’ll see babygirl, this one will pan out.”

“You know, from everything I’ve heard about Savannah, I think she might prefer a quiet night in rather than some grand gesture you can’t follow through on. It’s those little moments where you make time for her that she’ll remember,” you tried, because Penelope was right and everyone in the room knew that except the one person that needed to.

“You really think so?”

“I know so, Morgan. You know, once, Spencer prepared a fort for the two of us? A whole ass fort, with the sofa cushions and sheets and every blanket he could find. It’s one of my favourite memories.”

“It is?” Spencer asked, his mind only reeling a little bit. He’d done that on impulse, thinking it might be the perfect combination of comfort and nostalgia that you needed to take your mind off a particularly bad case involving children you’d been on the week before. He’d never known you’d remembered it so much.

“Definitely. Even if it was so small we both got sore necks sitting inside for too long. It was amazing,” you were looking at him, stars in your eyes, but you quickly shook your attention back to Derek, “I’m not saying build Savannah a fort, that might be a me and Spencer thing, but you get my point.”

“I guess I do,” Derek scratched the back of his neck, at least beginning to rethink his elaborate ways of letting his girlfriend down, “Thanks, Y/L/N.”

You nodded a ‘no problem’ just as Rossi remembered where you all were and suggested everyone get back to work. Spencer sat back down, but his mind was all over the place. Hotch said if he thought about it, thought about you, then he’d just know.

Maybe the trick wasn’t just thinking about you, but actually listening to you.

---

“Stopping to get takeout on the way home was the best decision ever,” you said, halfway through a mouthful, “It’s times like these I’m glad to have such a genius boyfriend.”

“You know not every decision I make based on my status as a genius, right?”

“Yeah, whatever, eat your food, babe,” you insisted, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you sat on the sofa side by side. Your legs were curled up against his side, Spencer resting his other hand on your leg as he ate. There were moments of idle chatter between the two of you, but since there hadn’t been time to eat earlier in the day, you mostly concentrated on getting the food in you as quickly as humanly possible.

That was, until you decided to break the silence.

“Hm,” you began, then a good few seconds of thinking later, “Never mind.”

“You know you have to tell me what you were thinking now.”

“No, really, doesn’t matter.”

“Y/N…”

“Seriously Spence, forget it.”

“I’m physically incapable of forgetting it Y/N,” he said bluntly, “Just tell me. It won’t be as weird as you think.”

You paused.

“Okay. Just hear me out then,” you said seriously, turning in your seat so that you were facing him properly, leaning an elbow on his knee and your chin on your fist, “What if we got married?”

Ah.

Now that, that had not been what he had expected. He hardly managed to respond through the lump that had formed instantaneously in his throat, his airways closing in.

“What?”

“I’m just asking, what if we got married? I mean, I love you and I’m pretty sure you love me. There’s no one else I want to be with, ever. So...why not?” When he didn’t say anything, you continued on, though far less sure of yourself, “I know we’re not exactly traditional but it would make sense, financially, right? And maybe...it might be a little romantic?”

“A little r-romantic?” He stuttered out, face drained of all its colour. This wasn’t in the plan. This was not in the plan. He may not have had a plan, but whatever this was, it wasn’t the plan.

Your face fell.

“Sorry, this isn’t the way to propose is it? And talking about the financial benefits of marriage definitely isn’t romantic,” you frowned to yourself, no longer looking him in the eye, “And honestly, maybe marriage isn’t something you see as romantic anyway, seeing as you probably know all the history that included the woman belonging to the man and everything, so maybe you don’t even want marriage?”

The infliction in your voice on the last question, the way your pitch changed, he could tell you beginning to get really nervous. Like what you’d just said might ruin your relationship that could never be ruined. But he wasn’t even thinking straight, because you had just asked him to marry you and he didn’t even get a chance to do it first. To do it right. He blinked rapidly as he looked at his lap.

“I don’t think-“ he began, but stopped himself, “I’m not sure-“

“You know what? Please forget I said anything, I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. Pretend it never happened, please Spence,” you said, already getting up from the sofa, distancing yourself from him, picking up your plate with a half-eaten dinner and making towards the kitchen, “I think I’ll turn in for the night, I’m beat. Night Spence.”

You hardly looked at him as you passed him to go to the bedroom, but he saw the flash of unshed tears in your eyes as you scurried by. He opened his mouth to speak, but for once his ability to process the situation that had just taken place was at an all time low. Instead, he scrambled to fetch the ring from his satchel near the door, wanting nothing more than to ask you right there and then—

“Y/N, wait-“

He held up the ring box as he turned around, but the bedroom door had shut with a click.

You’d just asked him to marry you and he hadn’t said yes.

Well, fuck.

---

A/N: i’m aware this is six months late! all the apologies and i hope you enjoy this next chapter, i’ve nearly finished our beautiful fluffy finale to the story that should have finished long ago. lots of love to anyone who managed to make it this far! i wish you all a wonderful week <3

taglist if you’re still interested! (ily all regardless)

@mrs-dr-reid @soda610 @alexxcorona113 @thupidalethea @may-beforejune-afterapril @ilovesupersoldiers @hurricanejjareau @mortallythoughtfulgurl @aperrywilliams @saranyx@anotherspencerreidblog @thegayestdestielshipper @burkgolden @zozolee @sargent-barnes @halseysunset

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ thirteen

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.9k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act two ➻ part three

Even though you’re wearing shoes, the stairs somehow feel cold under your feet as you walk down to the lobby of the hotel. You are almost free, steps away from the door that will get you out of this mess. You shouldn’t have stayed as long as you did; Daichi would tear into you if he knew, and you’re well aware that he would be right to do so. You had a lapse of judgment, a moment of stupidity, and now you will have to pay the price in guilt as you walk further away from where San is sleeping. You wish you could be nonchalant and firm, say that you aren’t bothered in the slightest and this is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. Part of you just wishes that you could be more cruel.

The number of people you’ve killed should’ve done that, it should have hardened you and made you numb to things like this. Yet here you are struggling to keep it together because you don’t think you really want to walk away like this.

Your feet hit the last step, and you freeze in place, eyes wide as you look across the lobby towards the bar. You weren’t expecting to see the platinum-haired captain sitting upon one of the bar stools, and you certainly couldn’t think of a worse time to happen across him like this. Yet there he sits, back towards you with a clear glass in hand and elbows propped on the counter. Seeing him reminds you of the two men you passed in the streets earlier, the main reason you got separated from San in the first place.

“No, but a newly formed bandit crew is on their way to ambush him later in the night. Around one in the morning, according to my sources.”

He’s back sooner than he said he would be, but he is in one piece, which could be a sign that the ambush didn’t work. Still, you debate going over to where he’s sitting. It lowers your chances of leaving but your gut is begging you to go over to him.

You end up following your gut in the end, walking over to where Hongjoong is sitting with dragging feet. He glances back at you when you approach. You stop in your tracks, scared to go any further, but the captain tilts his head towards the bar counter.

“Care for a drink? Or are you in a hurry to leave?”

You tilt your head to the side upon hearing Hongjoong’s question.

“How did you know I was planning to leave?”

“It was obvious,” Hongjoong says through a sigh. “Frankly, I knew before I even put you on the mission.”

“Why did you put me on it then?”

Rather than answering right away, Hongjoong motions towards the empty stool beside him. You take the hint and step around the chair to sit down next to him.

“Drink?” Hongjoong asks once you sit down.

“J-Just whiskey on the rocks,” you stammer. The bartender nods and moves away to get the drink. Hongjoong looks back at you, eyes narrowed and searching yours with an unreadable emotion.

“I wanted you to come so that I could see what you would do. I was curious, to put it simply. You’re leaving later than I thought you would in all honesty. When your line went dead on the comms, I assumed that you had crushed it and decided to leave then.”

“Are you… are you disappointed in my decision?” You ask the question with great hesitance. Part of you would rather not hear an answer at all, even though Hongjoong’s opinion shouldn’t matter to you in the slightest. The captain laughs a bit. He watches the bartender carefully as the man brings you your drink, sliding it across the wood counter. You don’t touch it right away, however, still waiting for Hongjoong’s answer.

“Why do I need to be disappointed? You have no obligations to me or my crew. I don’t force anyone to stay on my crew if they don’t want to.”

You aren’t sure how to respond to that. It’s better than hearing that he is disappointed in you, but you hate how open-ended his response is. It only makes you feel worse about your decision.

“The lead… was it a dead one?” You shift the subject, closing your fingers around the chilled glass before you.

“No, but my client is a dead one.”

“What happened?”

“There was an ambush and my client was shot before telling me everything he knew.” Hongjoong shrugs as though it’s the most normal explanation in the universe. He takes a long drag from his own drink and throws the alcohol back with ease.

“But you got away uninjured?”

“Of course I did. Those that ambushed me paid their dues for what they did.” You sip at your drink nervously upon hearing his explanation. You somehow keep forgetting the reputation of the man you’re dealing with, the body count he carries with him, and how dangerous he actually is. A small grin plays at his lips. “I got enough information to move onto the next lead though. And I have three more leads after that. The trail isn’t dead yet.”

“Why so much effort? All for Sirens? What’s the point?” You can’t keep yourself from releasing the string of questions. Your curiosity gets the better of you more often than not, and now is no exception. One of Hongjoong’s brows shoots up at your curiosity as though he wasn’t expecting you to ask him that.

“What do you know about Sirens, Miss L/N?”

“Someone near you is a dangerous threat, one that you’ve never encountered before. You must be careful. Guard yourself wisely.”

Your gaze hardens on Hongjoong, Daichi’s words of warning resounding in your head. “Not much.”

“Well, there are five Sirens left in the universe according to rumors. Legend has it that each one bears special markings, insignias of royalty and status. Each Siren bears a special title, a moniker assigned to them at birth in place of a real name, something akin to a status symbol like their markings. They’re a unique and dying breed of people primarily due to the fact that pirates and the military capture Sirens. They’re kept as slaves, used as objects to do their master’s bidding, or used as a source of energy and power. The military uses Sirens as siphons for weaponry, which you’ve surely heard from your time in the military. The way they do it is by plugging a tube between the Siren’s shoulder blades. It’s apparently the sweet spot for drawing out the most power. Powers vary from Siren to Siren, and there are no absolute certainties about the extent of a Siren’s power. Some have been noted to read minds or emotions, but that seems to be a rare genetic mutation in them. Most have the ability to alter the density of objects and bodies, which is why Sirens are so valuable to pirates and thieves. Easily morph through objects, slip into places unnoticed, kill with no weapons except their hands. But that’s all pointless information in the long run. I don’t care about their powers or abilities or what you can siphon out of them.”

“W-What do you care about then?”

“It is said that five Sirens together can unlock one of the universe’s most secret and valuable treasures, although no man has ever laid eyes on it or lived to tell anyone where the treasure might me. I want it for myself. I want to find it and be the person who lives to tell the tale.”

“Why?” You press further as you take sip after sip of your drink.

“If I do that then I’ll live forever. Maybe not physically but I’ll forever be known as the finder of the treasure.”

“Do you care about the treasure or just the aspect of finding it?”

Hongjoong purses his lips, smirk falling away as he moves, and he looks up at the ceiling. “It’s hard to desire a treasure that you don’t know.”

“It’s also hard to pursue a legend that may or may not be true,” you counter. Hongjoong sounds genuine enough but you don’t trust his smile as he speaks. It’s more than just living forever, and it’s more than being the person who finds the supposed treasure. He chuckles at little at your words and looks back down at his drink.

“You have a point. I don’t care though. It’s my goal in life, and I’ll stop at nothing to find that treasure.”

“There has to be more to it than that,” you argue again. It just doesn’t sit right with you. Your curiosity is going to get the better of you, and you know that all too well. “There’s no way that it’s as simple as that.”

“You’re smart, I’ll give you that.” Hongjoong thumbs at the rim of his glass before glancing over at you. “I can’t tell you. If I am going to share that with you, you have to remain on the crew. I have to be able to trust you with the information. I don’t tell anyone my reasons for finding Sirens. So I don’t have to tell you.” A sigh leaves your lips.

“Fair enough,” you murmur before downing the rest of your drink. “Another, please.” The bartender takes your now empty glass.

“One more drink before you leave then?” Hongjoong inquires.

“I have to go,” you say even though it’s not what Hongjoong asked. The question lingered in his words, there enough for you to pick up on it.

“Why? Unless you plan to keep it to yourself.”

“I can’t afford to stay. Besides, I never planned to stay this long.”

Hongjoong nods a few times then passes his glass to the bartender when the man returns with your new drink.

“A half glass, if you would.” Hongjoong leans back in his seat. “I didn’t offer you a place on the crew lightly. It wasn’t just to make you feel good about yourself or needed. I truly see a place for you on the crew, one that has been empty and hollow for a long while.”

“Why don’t you just recruit people from Echidna then? Replace me.”

“I have done that in the past. Many a time. The largest my crew ever got was around seventy-four crewmates. Fifty percent left after my first announcement that I was hunting down Sirens. Half of the remaining crew left after the first year. Once we dwindled down to thirteen, things stabilized for a time. We maintained that number for quite some time. When shit hit the fan, it happened fast. One by one we slowly reached eight crew members and it’s kept since then.” You try to hide your surprise, but your jaw falls open slightly upon hearing Hongjoong’s explanation.

“You could have forced them to stay. Kept the numbers, had more people.”

Hongjoong releases another dry laugh. “And what? Is it better to have a loyal few or the disloyal many? I prefer the few. Why risk having a crew full of people you can’t trust? It’s pointless. Trust is what relationships are built upon. Trust is where it begins.”

You hesitate to mull over his words, toying with the ice in your glass blankly for a few moments.

San… he opened up to me. Trusted me. He was so quick to do so. As though there wasn’t a doubt in his mind about what my intentions were.

“Did you know that San’s former crew was here?” You ask all of a sudden. Hongjoong’s eyes widen as he searches your expression for answers.

“Well, that’s a surprise. I didn’t expect San to open up so quickly with you.”

“Because he was hurting,” you hiss in response, fingers curling into a tight fist again the counter.

“What happened?” The lightness leaves Hongjoong’s tone, and he becomes serious again in the blink of an eye.

“I was attacked and dragged into an alley by a Berserker. When San came to help me, he recognized the woman from his old crew.”

“Was it Taskmaster Cara?”

You nod hastily in response to Hongjoong’s question. A string of curses leaves his lips, and now he’s the one to clench a fist against the wood.

“Did you know or not?”

“I knew they were here because this is where their base is. I had no clue that you would get attacked by Cara of all people. That’s was never the goal.”

“The goal?” Your tone turns incredulous. Hongjoong refuses to look at your enraged expression; instead, he thumbs at his glass with little interest.

“I wasn’t planning on telling you. Since you’re leaving anyway, I’ll just tell you. The goal was to have you and San go into the city. After buying the supplies, San was supposed to pull away and get separated from you. Act like he wasn’t himself or wasn’t okay. It was meant to be a test to see whether you would stay or go. Since I already thought you were going to leave, I wanted to test your loyalties to new people and see how genuine you were. However, you were just supposed to get separated. There were never any plans of attack or ambush or anything like that. Just to see if you would take the opportunity to leave when you were alone, even after San and Seonghwa both told you not to separate.”

“I wouldn’t have just left him like that,” you argue. Hongjoong’s assumptions about you are teetering on offensive, and you can’t help but feel hurt by his words.

“Yet you are now,” he counters. You jerk your head back towards the counter when he meets your eyes. “Am I wrong?”

“Be quiet.”

“I asked if I was wrong. What did San tell you, Y/N?”

“He told me everything,” you spit out.

“You are leaving him then. He opened up to you, put everything out there for you, told you the parts of him that he hates more than anything. He put his heart in your hands. And you still want to walk away after that? Do you realize what that would do to him? Wake up to an empty bed? Never see you again? That’s not just breaking trust. It’s hurting him.” Hongjoong pauses to reach down, and a moment later he pulls his pistol up. You straighten your back automatically, eyeing his movements as he sets the gun down on the bar counter. “Get out of that chair with any intention to leave, and I’ll put a bullet in you. I won’t let you hurt him like that.”

“How would he feel about you killing me then?” You ask, trying to conceal the sudden surge of fear that courses through your system upon hearing Hongjoong’s threat. “How is that any better than me leaving?”

“Because San won’t know the difference. I’ll get rid of your body and the witnesses if I have to. I refuse to let you waltz in and make things worse for San by leaving. If you were going to leave, you should’ve done it before he opened up to you.”

“Stop.”

“Why should I? I’m only making you aware of the issue. San is my crewmate, someone I chose for my crew myself, my brother in arms. It’s my responsibility as a captain to look after my members, and I will do whatever it takes to do just that. If you try to walk out that door, then you are an obstacle and I will take you down.”

“It’s not as though I’m leaving easily. It hurts and I feel guilty about it. San has saved my life twice now and for what? For me to get him to open up about his past trauma then leave? I know it’s shitty and a fucking awful move. But I have to go. There’s no way around it. I wasn’t supposed to stay this long anyway, so maybe it would be easier for you to shoot me. Save me the guilt of leaving.”

“Then you deserve to live with the guilt. If you’d be so selfish and heartless, then it’s what you’ve earned.”

“He told me that he felt the need to protect me. He felt guilty because I was hurt by someone he knew and for not being there sooner. For not noticing I was gone sooner. He said he doesn’t want it to happen again. The last time someone said that to me, they were murdered for crimes that were not their own. They died for me. You can’t blame me for being traumatized.”

Hongjoong’s gaze hardens on you. His eyes are filled with contempt and anger, and for a second, you think he really might shoot you where you’re sitting now.

“You’re choosing the easy way out then. Running away from your problems rather than facing them. There is no way of knowing whether the future will be a repeat of the past. You can only be sure of the present and whatever happens is either a choice of your own or of fate. It was fate that gave me The Horizon. But it was choice that brought me to where I am now. It was choice that landed you in your current predicament, but I know that it was fate that put you in my path. You can walk away from fate and choose uncertainty. Or you can walk back upstairs and let fate decide the rest.”

“Why do you think it’s a good idea to threaten me into staying?” You hiss in response. Your grip on your glass tightens. “What happened to giving your crewmates a choice?”

“I gave you a choice. I’ve changed my mind after all, and I want you to live with the guilt of your actions. That’s worse than death for certain.” Hongjoong reaches forward and grabs his pistol again, pushing it back into its holster. “You are free to make your choice whenever. I’ll know what you chose in the morning.”

Hongjoong pushes his stool back, the wood grating against the floor and creating an unpleasant sound. He pulls away from the counter and moves for the stairs. You turn to watch him go out of sheer curiosity. He pauses at the base of the stairs. Dark eyes find yours again.

“I’m not asking you to respect me. I am asking you to respect my crew, San in particular. It’s as simple as that, Y/N. I hope you make the right choice.”

He disappears up the stairs, floorboards creaking under his movements, and you find yourself suddenly alone at the bar counter. It’s not a pleasant feeling that you’re left with, and the alcohol does little to ease your concerns. You wish you could drink it away, but at the end of the day, you are either staying or going.

You could leave and forget any of this ever happened. Not think about Hongjoong or Wooyoung or Seonghwa or San ever again. Try to forget it all, forget the ones back on the ship, forget everything about your stay. Just focus on handing in the papers and disappearing again. Perhaps you could finally pay for your own crimes in efforts to gain forgiveness. You aren’t sure that’s what you truly want though. The biggest thing stopping you is San. How he might react if you leave. Would he be angry at you? Upset? Hurt maybe? All of the above? You don’t want to see hurt on his face because of your actions.

What’s more important in the end? You’ve been running for so long that part of you wants to be free from it. And yet…

You push your stool back and stand up. There will be other opportunities to turn in the papers. You’ll have another chance. This isn’t your only one, and you’re confident that you can have another shot at freedom. But this isn’t an opportunity. This is something else, and you can’t just walk out now. You return to the foot of the stairs, climbing them slowly and carefully. They creak a bit under your feet, especially as you reach the top. Your hand hesitates on the handle of the door, and you glance back down the stairs. It’s a quick debate: whether you should just take off running or enter the room. You twist the knob and step inside, slipping off your shoes again when you close the door.

The sheets are cold when you slip under them. San doesn’t seem to have moved at all, eyes still pressed shut. You settle against the mattress facing him and let your gaze trail over his features as you continue to think about your decision.

“I thought you left for good,” San says all of a sudden. His eyes crack open and meet yours through the darkness.

“No… I didn’t,” you whisper back. “I couldn’t go yet.”

San releases a small laugh.

“Yet,” he echoes. He stretches a hand out, catching yours with his own, and you flinch under the sudden touch. He pulls your hand towards his chest. You rest your palm against the place over his heart, barely feeling the steady beat. “I’m okay with ‘yet’ for now.”

Something about his tone compels you to slide forward on the bed, pushing closer to San, and he meets you halfway. Your foreheads collide with a slight smack. You both laugh when you hit each other, then San rests his forehead back against yours with a small smile playing at his lips.

“You’re warm.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” you huff as San drapes an arm over your side.

“Thank you.”

“Get so–”

“Y/N. Thank you. For listening and… and for coming back.”

“I won’t leave this time,” you mutter. You can feel heat radiating from San’s cheeks even though you can’t see the flush to his skin.

“I’ll hold you all night to make sure you don’t,” San whispers back. Hot breath fans over your lips. You aren’t sure what comes over you but you lift the hand resting against San’s chest to trace over the outline of his lips with two fingers. He smiles into the touch.

“I’m scared to let you in,” you admit, bring your gaze back up to San’s eyes. He’s looking back at you with a gentleness in his eyes that catches you off-guard.

“You don’t have to let me in yet. Just try to trust me.”

“Okay… okay. I can do that.”

“Then that’s more than enough.”

San leans his head back against the pillow but you take hold of his chin and pull him back to your face once more. It’s prompt and chaste, slightly awkward too, but you slot your lips against his in a rush. San inhales sharply at the sudden pressure. He melts into the soft kiss, pushing back with equal gentleness. He pulls away too soon for your liking, but the smile that resides on his lips as he falls asleep makes your decision to stay more than worth it.

✧✧✧ a/n: it's that time of day on a Tuesday, here we are at your regularly scheduled programming yEEHAW! info dump chapter but i hope you guys enjoy and like this part even if it's not super action packed after the last chapter soijfdoijfoi i love you guys thank you so much for the continued support and love for this story it means the world

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

Ducktales Shadow Into Light (Lena Retrospective): Friendship Hates Magic! (Commission by WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people! And welcome, and to some of you welcome back to Shadow Into Light, my fully paid for but gladly done Lena retrospective, covering everyone’s faviorite lesbian emo shadow’s personal jounrey through all three seasons and some brucey bonuses.

So this time we pick up in mid-season 2.. yes MID season 2. Though for once taking so long to adress things had valid reasons. It dosen’t make the 8 month wait for Lena to return and for Violet to show up, her concept art having been shown off shortly before Shadow War aired during San Diego Comic Con, any less aggravating, especially since the episode did air overseas before that but never leaked anywhere properly. So I knew she’d be okay but not HOW.

As I said though.. they had their reasons. The episode was set for episode 8 in production order, right behind whatever Happened to Della Duck? which answered the other big cliffhanger from season 1, Della’s exile on the moon. So while this episode was back in the queue, along with Della’s, which had to wait till after the christmas episode to air because said episode takes place before it. So waiting on this episode was fair on the crew’s part even knowing it was a hiatus.

It ended up getting pushed back by a week once the episodes started airing.. but as outlined last time, THIS TIME Disney actually moved it for good reason instead of just doing so because shut up. See the problem with moving episodes around in season 2.. is Della’s return. Several episodes that in theory could’ve easily been pushed back instead of this one, Depths of Cousin Fethry, Treasure of the Found Lamp... couldn’t because they take place BEFORE Della came back and it’d be weird to air them after. One features Donald, the other dosen’t but still lacks Della and it’d be weird if it did> While this episode takes place before Della comes back or was at least meant to, no one appears in person, and Beakly mentoning “the boys and scrooge” at the bin could simply be her forgetting Della’s a part of things for a second. It’s not entirely in character, but it’s much easier than explaning why Della’s not there and Donald is.

They also moved one episode ahead of this.. but it’s one I approve of. See from episode 7 onward the episodes were aired in week long duckbombs, woo-ooo. I I don’t fault disney for it or the reason I suspect they had for doing this: while it wasn’t the intended way of airing, they likely did this airing style to get shows on Disney Plus quicker for it’s debut and given they’ve sunk a LOT of money into the streaming service and it’s a key part of their future, I can’t blame them for wanting the entire series thus far on the platform at launch. It’s one of if not their most popular show at the moment. They wanted it front and center.

So this one took an extra week to air, and an extra day as they aired raiders of the doomsday vault right after Della’s return in “Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!”.. which is also not a bad move. Fans wanted more of Della and her bonding with the kids, I wanted more of that so while the wait was grumble inducing, it was worth the tradeoff to get more of this character and her bonding with Dewey.. and let’s face it Glomgold. You know what i’m about at this point.

So there were delays but not the mind boggling ones that reshuffled the season last time and by next season there’d be zero reshuffling with both holiday episodes designed to go anywhere. So with the history and the agonizing wait out of the way join me under the cut as a snark knight returns, a new fan faviorite debuts and Beakly gets sucked into Launchpad’s awful fandom.

We open our story at the Duckburg Library. Man I fucking miss the library. I mean you can go by apointment and what not but I also have library card debt and stuff, and it’s just not the same.

Anyways naturally Webby is going there to research the Shadow Realm in hopes of finding something to bring Lena back. Last week was “Children’s Card Games, Dark Magic and You! by Professor Yugi Moto which while enlightening got her nowhere. Next up is “Shadow Games on Motorcycles!: How a Crimson Dragon defeated a giant Shadow Monster and brought the dead back and I helped by Doctor Yusei Fudo”.

But that one’s not in yet so she instead goes to the Librarian to get another book.. and it’s Quackfaster! Horay! As for why she’s working two jobs, she’s saving up for a retirement condo in BIRDDDBAAADDOOOSSSSS. I had to type it that way it’s ape law.

But her next book “I Went there and it Sucked, My Time in the Shadow Realm by Mayor of New Jersey Joey Wheeler” is taken by “another strange little girl”. Quackfaster, you chase people around with a scimitar. Just accept your the weird one and live with it like me. You’ll be happier that way.

And so we finally meet Violet whose introduced pitch perfectly. Webby gives out her usual “Hi I”m Webby”.. and Violet simply holds a finger up, finishes her page and gives a simple “Yes?” It demonstrates her quite nature, her love of reading and her lack of social skills all in one fell swoop. The ensuing dead language off is also pretty damn adorable reminding me of that scene from “Lisa’s Wedding” where she and Hugh fight over a book and reading it before making out.. minus the making out because these are children, no one wants that, and Webby is taken. .and even then again children. Most we get is an innocent peck and some blushing.

So Violet, finding out Webby needs it and is researching the arcane too offers to research together tonight, bringing a sleeping bag just in case it goes on long... to Lena’s unheard objections as she’s rattled by the break in her normal routine with Webby, and the possibility of Webby falling for someone else. I mean this i framed as a friendship thing... but you can only say “friend” so many times in a work before you sound like a retired grandma in denial about their granddaughter.

Later at the Mansion, Beakley is enjoying a nice quiet afternoon to herself. Turns out once a month Scrooge has “Binventory Day” where he and the boys catalogue the bin for hours giving her a night to herself and Webby. Webby loudly interuppts the peace as is Cartoon Law, but Beakley is pleased Webby is getting back on the friendship horse.

Bentina ends up ruining it a bit though by bringing up her previous slumber party disasters... which even Lena at her most jealous admits were her fault and only agrees to in the hopes Webby’s going to cancel. Instead Webby decides to make this the most normal sleepover ever! The one where her new friend is coming to specifically help her with magic.

Bentina tries to back her grandaughter/daughter down from this insane logic, but Webby does, if innocently clap back well to her being the one to give her “Be yourself” advice. “I’m not like you Granny, I need to have friends”

And while Webby quickly flees after Beakley tries to deny it.. she’s not wrong. She has exactly one friend who she works for and no social life to speak of.. and as far as I can tell she’s fine this way. Beakley is happy with her work and raising Webby and has someone to talk to in Scrooge. She has everything she needs, while Webby is a social butterfly.. a socially inept social butterfly. She needs people and loves meeting new people and needs friends and not just her family. One’s an introvert the other’s an extrovert. I’m both at times, and before you ask why yes it is a living nightmare thank you so much for asking. I get where both are coming from. And Beakley clearly had friends at one point it’s just a long war with FOWL and a sudden granddaughter probably whittled it down to just Scrooge. It’s okay to be yourself.

So this is where the plotlines split off, so as usual, i’m splitting the up.

Launchpad and Beakley in Getting To Know You And Getting Sucked INto Your Strange and Lovely Fandom

So Beakley naturally cries out “name one person I don’t get along with.. and in walks Launchpad , Nature’s Perfect Himbo, having destroyed the gate and at least being honest he probably will again. Why he’s here when the boys and Scrooge are all gone?

But I don’t care as this subplot is just.. a nonstop delight. Starting with Beakly inviting Launchpad to sup with her.. which just confuses him. Look Bentina you have to use small words.. it’s a miracle he gets up in the morning, dreses himself and hasn’t died in a tragic gasoline fight accident. You have to know your audience. Still funny.

And “not knowing your audience” continues as Beakly serves them pea soup but Launchpad is intimidated by the spoons and while she does offer to help instead tries to use all of them then a straw and then falls facedown in his soup. And this is the SECOND TIME Beakly’s left someone living at the mansion to die. I mean that’s not a lot but it’s still weird it happened twice.

Finally they sit quitely, Beakly reading the Scarlet Pimpernell, and Launchpad doing a coloring book. And besides the odd couple energy what I really like about this subplot.. is that it fleshes Beakly out> This is one of her ONLY plots in the entire goddamn series, yes really. 70 episodes and she only got five spotlight episodes/plots. But it does at least show her off: her upperclass pedigree we really don’t see often, showing that while she applied to the job as maid out of necisity she knows her stuff, her love of classic literature and her being out of touch with the common person. It’s not a ton but it’s more than ninja butler or “stop having fun with your kids della and be a parent”. I mean she wasn’t wrong but she could’ve been nicer about it given the circumstances.

So Launchpad, given Beakley’s never shown any interest in him as a person before, assumes she’s going to fire him and was just softening him up. I mean Scrooge himself outright said he never would and if he did he’d do it to your face, hard as it’d be. But that aside, he’s fine with getting to know her once he knows that no he’s not being fired she just wanted to hang out, he’s everyone’s friend. But naturally an upperclash british former super spy and a dumb as a bucket with a heart of gold pilot have nothing in common, not even aircraft as “plane go up, plane crash going down’ is about the extent of his actual knowledge on aircraft that isn’t instinct or dumb luck.

He does manage to break the ice though, mistaking her book for a Darkwing Duck book and deciding to show her the show since it might be something they have in common. At first she’s as unintuhsed as you’d expect a british lady who never watches the telly watching a 90′s kids show would be.. but by the end she’s gotten all the way into it.

It’s really endearing, showning that two vastly diffrent people with nothing can common can be brought together by something as simple and glorious as liking the same show. I’ve had it happen with me. She naturally is all for filiming his fanscript after the finale provides no answers, being the one to suggest it and the two end the episode shooting it with her in full darkwing duck cosplay. I’ts a cute and entertaining subplot and a nice contrast to the main plot which while not super dark, does have a fog of tension over it. Speaking of which.

Webby, Lena and Violet: In Two’s Company, Three Accidently Creates Monsters That Nearly Take Your Girlfriend Off Into The Shadowy Abyss So the slumber party gets underway with Webby shooing away Duckworth after clearing out her room to greet Violet herself and violet having brought pie... a great callback to an earlier joke where Webby wondered if pie was normal at a sleepover. No but it should be. So Webby welcomes her in to her totally normal room devoid of anything. Nothing suspicious about that.

So Violet tries to get her into research, specifically Tulpas, an actual magical concept, a mental construct of some kind created out of desire, imagination or what have you. Gee I wonder if that will come into play this episode. Webby.. wants to play baggle or what have you or do makeovers and drags Violet along to do the second thing after Violet asks about Magica. Lena then finds something glowing in Violet’s bag...specifically, her old amulet, cracked but still working and flowing with Magica’s power.

Lena assumes Violet is Magica and goes to warn Webby only to find her HORRIBLY MUTATED! Naturally it’s a misdirect, as it turns out Violet is just REALLY good at special effects makeup. It’s something I honestly forgot about her... i’m betting one of her dad’s is an effects artist. Just saying that’d be neat. But Webby gives the “i’m normal really even though I live in a giant mansion with my dad I don’t know is my dad and my grandma whose actually my adopted mom” game away by pointing out the demon’s fang is crooked and Violet is curious and heads to Webby’s room finding a picture from said demon. He signed it and everything. Good man that Rakshaka.

Webby is worried Violet will be freaked out by all the weird but nope, she enjoys it. And it’s not a suprise: violet is actively researching the shadow dimension. Why WOULD she be scared off. The conflict was in Webby’s head all along.. and partly out of PTSD, but we’ll get to that. Webby still tries to get her to baggle but they settle on ancient rune dice baggle and summoning some spirits. Lena scoffs.. until it actually works. It does make sense though: As we’ll see in her last starring role, Lena is kinda like Wanda Maximoff: she has an extreme amount of power but she has no idea how to use it and is simply making up most of her magic as she goes along or took magica’s lead. But the spell means Lena can touch the dice so she spells out don’t trust her.. but forgets she’s dealing with two nerds who love unlocking puzzles and assume the message is on the dice themselves.

Webby and Violet decide they need more clarity and resume the seance.. which summons mysterious white shadow creatures Lena saw before.. .some now taking Magica’s shape. And Lena’s panicked “Oh not again” says it all. So Lena tries the tried and true bedsheet ghost cliche, grumbling about it but showing up as a ghost without any abillity to speak or talk to webby dosen’t do anything and Violet tackles the sheet before deciding to grab the amulet to dispiate the spirit.. only for Lena to show up for a breif second before she does show making the panicked child look incredibly supscious.

Webby naturally tackles and interrogates Violet wanting the full story. And it turns out the big secret is.. Violet is entirely normal. Nothing to do with Magica, no possesions or secretly being her or a minon of hers... she was just a logic obsessed 12 year old who thought magic was a myth.. until the Shadow War proved “Nope it’s real everything you know is wrong. Up is down black is white and short is long”. She just happened to be close to the bin and found the amulet when the remains of the staff fell near her and compacted back into it.

It’s a brilliant reveal. See first watch around your genuinely unsure if Violet is a real person or not.. unless you went in knowing she is, but semantics. Point is most first time viewers didn’t know she’d be a beloved member of the supporting cast and didn’t know what to expect. But looking back... it makes no sense. If Magica had the amulet.. why would she need to infiltrate the mansion. Revenge? Possibly but she’d want Scrooge there too. Even being evil on her own Violet had valid opportunity to pilfer Webby’s magical items, she has an entire box of magic rocks right there and then simply zap her with the amulet. But she didn’t.. because Violet is a person. When she DOES use it she’s utterly terrified, and we can see her breathing heavy, scared.. something Magica has NEVER been of Lena. To Violet it was just a ghost. Webby hadn’t told her about lena and any information she had about her was second hand from newspapers and the like.

Webby is sympathetic, as Violet’s feeling of being sheltered from this greater world naturally resonates and while Lena is still supscious, having reincorperated, it’s clear Webby trusts violet and simply dosen’t want to loose another friend to magic. Here trying to hide it now takes another tone.. she knows Lena was behind it.. but is so afraid of it consuming violet the way it did Lena, she forgets almost ALL of the weird magic stuff in sleepovers was magica’s manipulation, and that Lena died because her creator was a monster, not because of magic. Magic is not inherently good or bad, it just is, and that will come back as a theme in a few episodes. It allowed Magica to ravage the town and kill Lena.. but it allowed Lena to exist in the first place and while the terrible events with Magica clearly shook her.. it also shook violet out of her complacency and got her to research a world she never would’ve considered. Good can come from bad.

And it’s with this in mind that Violet.. does not give up. She’s stayed in her box enough.. and now she knows the spirit is a friendly one.. she figures they can bring Lena BACK using the amulet. After all it was lena’s and the source of her powers.. it might be the key to reiviving her. And while Lena, if invisibly as always, remarks it’s dangerous.. Webby, with no hesitation agrees to get her girlfriend back. It’s risky sure.. but what Lena hasn’t gotten is she’s WORTH the list. She’s so full of self loathing from both her manupations of webby and Magica’s gaslighting and abuse that she can’t see herself being worth anything even as Webby spent MONTHS trying to save her, clearly still loves her, and only didn’t want violet getting hurt because she misses her. Webby still loves and needs her for who Lena is.. Lena just can’t it and it hurts to think about that.

So the girls once again try to summon Lena and it starts to work.. but also summons the Tulpa’s back... this time taking Magica’s form and causing a suspcious lena to panic.. and suck both of them into the shadow realm. We get the reunion we’ve been waiting for as Webby tackle hugs her happily.

But it’s soon cut short as Lena still thinks Violet is just manipulating Webby, lying to her and that “she’s mine!”

For the record Joss Whedon sucks, not taking that out on Anthony Stewart Head or the guys who actually wrote the episode. Moving on.

I feel Lena’s jealousy comes from the aformentioned self loathing, mixed with a life of having to live just to surivive at the beck and call of a throughly awful person who didn’t consider her a sentient being worthy of anything especially love. She can’t fathom anyone else loving Webby the way she does because she feels once webby has anyone else.. she won’t need her. It’s toxic and wrong.. but it’s easy to see why that’d happen when sh’es only had one healthy relationship. She barely knows the boys, Beakly only grew to tolerate her and she was only friends with Scrooge for like.. a minute. Webby is the only person she knows, loves and trusts and she just can’t risk loosing that and can’t convince herself to share.

In a realistic scenario Lena would have to simply learn to trust and let her girlfriend have other relationshps and that hogging her all to herself is inhernetly toxic and bad. And while she still does we’re talking about a living pile of shadows smooching a clone, so yeah instead the tulpas come out and drag her off..and take Lena’s form. While Lena tries to blame Violet, Violet has absolutley none of that and makes Lena see the hard truth: Lena is so worried about being forgotten, she created the tulpas by accidnet. As I said her power is raw and unfocused.. so she didn’t do it on purpose nor did she realize how toxic she was being. This finally snaps Lena back to reality, and see Violet geniunely cares about Webby and any ulterior motives were just in her head, so the two agree to work together, using a similar chant to the one from Jaws to destroy the Tulpas and save Webby.

So the shadow realm is disapated and our trio are returned to the human world.. but Lena, not being part of it and no longer having a tether.. starts to disolve, with a really heartbreaking scene of Webby holding her hand, as does violet. But.. then a miracle happens. Since the Bracelet was Lena’s link to Webby, and to her own magic, with it and the amulet close by.. both swirl around Lena, and the power of love.. for a new friend and a first love... revivies her. Mist parts.. and we get one heartwarming sign that after all this time “I’m back?!” Lena is confused.. but once again part of this plane of reality. She’s free and WEbby triumphanthly hugs her with Violet joining in. By letting go of her hate.. Lena returned to who she loved. They also run into the end of the other subplot and Launchpad’s casual hey lena is just great.

So our heroes are reunited and doing horror makeup and I really love Webby’s updo here and wish more works fan nd otherwise used it. WE get a final fakeout as Lena seemingly disovles and Violet reveals herself as magica.. only for it to be a prank and Webby to just be glad the love of her life and her new best friend get a long. We get one last hearwarming image and we close out.. with Lena finally having what she always wanted freedom. And while she may not know it yet in accepting violet.. she’s finally found family. More on that in a few weeks.

Final Thoughts: This episode is excellent. It’s not the best of the Lena arc, that comes next and it does drag once or twice.. but overall it’s a really great character piece, with a nice ballance betwen the tense main plot and the funny and goofy subplot. It adds more to Lena’s character, finally brings her back, while giving us a new and throughly fascenating new character to rave about in Violet, as well as giving Webby her own personal squad. It’s a great episode.. and only leads to a better one. But we’ll get to that in a week or so. First we have a bit of a detour and my plug.

If you liked this review, follow for more, spread it around, and join my patreon. It’s almost time for new patreons to pay up and if you hit my stretch goal i’ll review a darkwing duck episode next month and every month! We’re just five bucks away people! And if you’d like to just comission a review directly it’s just 5 bucks an episode and avaliable via my dms, ask or discord.

Next Time on Shadow Into Light: We take a break from the last two Lena episodes to go to one of her sources as we head back to Ducktales 87 with Magica’s Shadow War! I know almost nothing going in so... Shadow betrayals and stuff? Yay?

Tommorow: It’s Fenton’s birthday! And since i’ve done a LOT of ducktales recently and can’t do super ducktales till I hit my next stretch goal at 25 bucks, we’re going back to ST Canard at long last for Gizmoducks second apperance.. which can’t possibly be worse than the first so i’m excited. Let’s get dangerous tommorow!

#lena sabrewing #webby vanderquack #ducktales #weblena #violet sabrewing #shadow into light #friendship hates magic #great title by the way #bentina beakley #launchpad mcquack #darkwing duck

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

I was wondering if you could do something with ambulon, possibly fluff? Love the imagines btw

Thank you for giving me an excuse to love on my favorite underappreciated boy. Also, thank you, I love all the inspiration!

The chipping paint was a sore point for Ambulon, like so many other things about himself, but unlike all his other unfortunate traits it was made so much worse by the simple fact that it was impossible to hide. Having an embarrassing altmode, the true reason for his name, even his past as a Decepticon... he could cover all that up no problem. But the constantly chipping paint job? No shielding that from anyone close enough to simply see him...

It was made worse by how often bots tried to offer tips; use a primer, pay for a proper redo, try some new sealant... He knows they mean well, but none of them know what they're talking about, not really. If it was that easy, did they really think he wouldn't have fixed it by now? The Decepticon purple paint underneath was just as fragmented as the medic coded red and white on top, and that wasn't going to be fixed by anything simple.

The truth was "Flaky Paint Syndrome" could have many causes despite manifesting as a single, embarrassing result, and while most bots had poor application or easily irritated mesh to blame, his problem was rooted in something far less corporeal.

He was anxious. Every hour of every day, something had him on edge, and the constant strain on his nerves resulted in chips of paint cracking away from his always agitated frame. It was lucky really, most bots as unsettled as he was developed spark static or overheated and warped joints, his constant buzz of disquiet just made him look somewhat sloppy. Such a personality probably made his occupation seem like a bad choice, but he was content to endure the struggle for the satisfaction of saving lives, and now that he was on the relatively stable Lost Light he was managing better than he had in a long time. Thus, he hadn't had any plans on changing his status quo anytime soon.

Until you had showed up.

He hadn't even met a human before you'd joined the crew, but even if he had, he never could have expected that you'd get tangled up in his life the way you did. Something about you had just... connected with him. Maybe it was the fact that you didn't make fun of him, either for his altmode or his appearance, and also hadn't judged him for his past... Not even the reason for his silly name had made you laugh! He just liked spending time with you, even if it was to do nothing in particular.

As a result of these feelings, a desire to impress you had formed, and he'd actually made an effort to keep up with his looks for a change. Granted, that meant daily repaints completely unaided and in secret, all in his room where he twisted and turned in a ridiculous effort to look good for the person who probably only saw him as a friend. Logic didn't play much of a role in feelings, however.

Of course, it was just his luck you'd walked in on him at this most embarrassing time for the kind of friendly visit he ordinarily would have been thrilled about.

The cry of surprise that had escaped him when the doors whooshed open was impressively high pitched for a bot of his size, but you'd probably been more focused on the paint his startled jump had sent spattering in all directions, though none of it had flown far enough to hit you by some miracle.

"Ambulon, are you okay?!" You shouted in alarm, seeing the flash of red but not his paintbrush and immediately thinking of blood. Though you knew bots bled glowing pink, the instinct to offer aid at the first impulse was just too hard to ignore. Without hesitation, you hurried to get to his side, only growing more concerned as he hid his hand behind his back. Even if this wasn't how you'd wanted your visit to go you cared far too much about the medic to be concerned about such petty things. "What's wrong? Where are you hurt?"

"Who? Me? Hurt?" He rushes in ongoing panic, backing up against a desk to put as much space between you and him as possible. Despite looking ridiculous backing away from someone as small as you, all he can think to do is hide his paintbrush in an effort to save his dignity. At least, what's left of his dignity as he sputters through an excuse made up on the spot. "I'm just, uh... You know..."

Painting a landscape? Applying color to his hab suite? Decorating his medical supplies!?

"Are you painting something?" You asked, moving your small body to catch a glimpse of a bot sized paintbrush in the hand he hadn't done a good enough job of hiding. You figuring out the problem actually seemed to make him panic more, and he twisted again to hide the offending object behind his back, looking down at you as if you'd just stumbled upon him burying a body.

"Of course not!" He said in a rush, lie falling apart when the thick application of bright red he'd applied to his chest dripped downwards from the force of his rapid twisting around. Cringing, he avoided your eyes like a criminal. It would be bad enough if you simply knew about his troubles in any level of detail, but to have personally seen his juvenile and ridiculous efforts to cover up his humiliating condition... Would it be too much to ask that he dissapear at this very moment?

"Ambulon, are you okay?"

Nope, he's not, he won't be ever again but it's very nice that you thought to ask-

"Seriously, look at me."

You're firm but not at all angry as you issue the command, starting to put the pieces together in a way that makes some sense. The medic has had paint troubles more or less his entire life, as you've heard, but they had started to dissapear right about when you showed up. Though you hadn't pried, it had been logical to assume he'd been fixing himself up. Regardless of the accuracy of your guess, however, you know that this bot needs help. As much as you care for him, you simply can't let him suffer needlessly. No matter how often he switches between seeking you out and avoiding you...

"I'm... I'm fine, I promise." He mumbles, feeling like a pitiful failure for not even thinking to lock his door. There's so much to be embarrassed by he doesn't even know where to begin being mortified, but it's obvious the fallout will be a spiral into further humiliation, so he still wants to stall. You'll laugh when you hear he's been fixing himself up in a ridiculous attempt to impress you, because of course it's absurd, and he'll never be able to show his face again...

"Why are you embarrassed about some paint? I figured bots touched themselves up every now and then." You said innocently, baffled as to why he'd react in such a way. Rodimus bragged about redoing his colors all the time, so you'd figured there were no issues in doing so. Was there some other reason this could be considered embarrassing? The only possible explanation required you to go on a bit of a limb, but for his sake you decided to chance it, gulping once before you hesitantly spoke up. "Did you do this for me? Have you been redoing the colors since I got here?"

Ambulon flinched, and you realized you'd hit the nail on the head.

"I'm sorry-"

"For what?" You asked incredulously, head swimming with emotions clustering to be felt first. There was surprise, giddy delight, bashfulness, and even confoundment at the idea you could be in this situation. A part of you wanted to celebrate, but there was still far too much to sort through at the moment. His look of hopelessness exemplified the problem.

"For being ridiculous! Look at me! Pretending if I touch up some rough patches, it'll actually do anything? Ha!" He said, giving voice to the unpleasant uncertainty that lurked just below the surface. Drowning in his insecurity, he frowned hard, the absurdity of what he'd been trying to do all but slapping him in the face. Forget the species difference, you were a vibrant and charming individual who deserved far better than he. What had he even been trying to do? The answer came out of him as he sunk down to the ground and let the brush fall, hugging his knees as the weight of it all pulled him down. "I wanted so badly to look good for you, I lost track of common sense..."

"But Ambulon-"

Unable to hear you, he kept right on going, lost in his own little fog of shame. "You weren't supposed to know... Nobody was supposed to know... But I blew it-"

"Ambulon!"

You couldn't take it any more. The heartbreaking sight of the bot you thought was so delightful tearing himself apart was too much. Ignoring any common sense, you put yourself out for his sake, opening up your heart in the hope that your own vulnerabilities might help him feel better. A tender hand on his own preceded a gentle expression of reasurance as you looked into his optics.

"I'm flattered you want to look your best for me, really. But it's not necessary." You said, suddenly aware that your heart was hammering as you prepared to confess. It was probably about time you cut to the chase, after spending these months bobbing along in uncertainty, but that didn't make it any less scary to be so open. Hopefully it would all end well... "I think you look fine just how you are."

Ambulon felt his processor go blank, and all that he could do was fall back on his usual attitude with a surprised retort. "But I'm a mess!"

You laughed, but not in the way he'd feared. It was a good natured, loving, laughing with him and not at him kind of sound. "I don't care about some paint chips now and then, you goof. Why do you think I'm here?" All of a sudden your fear seemed to be turning into confidence, the anxieties you'd created for yourself melting away as the truth came out. Seeing a towering alien laid low by your simple feelings definitely made it much easier to express them. "I wanted to see you, purple and red and all, because I like you."

Something clicked inside of him upon hearing those words. So much shame and fear dissolved in what felt like an instant, his optics pushing up with his cheeks as he smiled the biggest and happiest smile he could, optics brightening the whole while. It was what he'd wanted more than anything but feared he'd never receive. Unfurling his legs, he leaned down just a tad to get closer. Heedless to everything about himself that had bothered him so much, he spoke softly in return.

"I really like you too."

"I know." You replied softly, looking to the brush that had fallen to the floor and the paint still drying on his frame as an idea hatched in your head. The two of you had a lot to talk about, it seemed, and you had the perfect way to pass the time while doing so. "Now, how about I help you finish up? Don't want all this to go to waste."

Realizing what you were suggesting, he picked up a much smaller paintbrush and handed it to you, still smiling as he helped you onto his desk where the paints laid out for use.

"I'd like that."

#ambulon #ambulon x reader #transformers #maccadam #tf #idw #more than meets the eye #mtmte #lost light #human reader #self insert #my writing #requests #my asks #anon

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ttttaehyungie · 4 years

Text

masked | myg x reader

masked | min yoongi x reader oneshot

☘ pairing | min yoongi x vigilante superhero!reader ☘ genre | college au, superhero au, humor, romance ☘ rating | NC-17 ☘ word count | 5.2k ☘ warnings | swear words, major violence/fight scenes, some childhood trauma, sexual humor (it’s like,,, one word but i’ll just tag it anyway) ☘ summary | Between academics in the day and crime-fighting at night, and your dumb rivalry with that one pain-in-the-ass, fellow vigilante Vulture, you simply don’t have time for dating. But, damn, is it hard when your partner for project work is as cute as he is. ☘ a/n | y’aaallllll this was so enjoyable to write :’) I hope you all have as much fun reading as I did writing this!

Submitted as part of BWC’s 1st Anniversary Contest.

A fist flies towards your face. You dodge leftwards. You grab the hooligan’s arm where it lingers in the air from the failed punch. Twist. He yelps. But you show no mercy. You hold tight to his arm and spin sharply on your feet. Using the momentum from your movement, you throw him over your shoulder. Thud.

He’s dazed. You seize the chance to kick him over onto his front. Locking his arms behind him, you pin him down with a knee as you fumble around in your backpack for the ropes to bind him.

A giddy excitement bubbles up, effervescent in your chest. Finally! After weeks of failed attempts, you’re so close to a solid capture. It’s just a pickpocket; small fry, really. But it’s a capture nonetheless.

Just as long as- you peek upwards to check- ok. It seems you’re in the clear. Vulture isn’t here. Wait-

Something rustles to your right. You jump in shock.

The thug takes advantage of the shift in your weight. He wrestles his arms free and pushes himself up, and you go tumbling off him. Before you can recover, he’s already sprinting off into the distance. No! He’s getting away!

In panicked desperation, you raise a hand and shoot out a force field. Dumb move. It only boosts him forward, aiding his escape. Ugh. Your victory slips like sand through your fingers.

Crack. A flash of blue pops into the middle of the street.

You roll your eyes. Part of you is relieved that the thief is not getting away. But for the most part? Unbridled annoyance.

You slump back on the ground to watch Vulture teleport in, capture the thief that you’d spent the last twenty minutes pursuing, and teleport out. All under two minutes.

Just as he’s been doing for the last few weeks. Damn. When will you ever catch a break?

“Rough night?”

Seems like your stifled yawn was not concealed well enough. Feeling slightly self-conscious, you shoot him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah. Busy fighting those assignments, y’know.”

He hums in understanding. “Let’s take a five minute break. I’m getting tired too.”

You nod. Yoongi stretches his arms out above his head and leans to the side to get in a good side stretch. Meanwhile, you avert your eyes. The sliver of skin that peeks out from where his shirt rides up has your cheeks growing warm.

“I’m gonna fill my bottle,” you announce, getting up from your shared table. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

The water fountain is just outside the library, but the short walk from the discussion pod and back is enough for you to shake off the drowsy haze you were in. By the time you return to the tiny room- they really weren’t kidding when they called it a pod- the spring is back in your step.

Yoongi looks up as you step back into the room and flashes you a smile. It’s small, but disarming as hell. Your heartbeat picks up.

“Recharged and ready to fight this project?” he jibes.

Right. The project. The project that you’re paired up for, literally for no other reason than sheer convenience. You just happened to be sitting next to each other when it was announced. But it’s fine. You’re chill, Yoongi’s chill. And that’s why you knew it was ok to just turn to him and ask, “Wanna pair up?”

The project is the only reason the two of you are talking. It’s not that you didn’t have any other opportunity to. Not at all. You’re both in the same course and you live in the same dorm.

And it’s not that you dislike the guy. In fact, far from it. If you’re being totally honest, Yoongi is 100% your type. Chill, and a laidback sense of humor with his light jokes. And not to mention, real easy on the eyes. With his platinum blonde hair- his dark roots just beginning to peek through- and striking eyes, all topped off with that heartstopping smirk of his, there is only one conclusion to be drawn. Yoongi is objectively attractive.

You’ve acknowledged this the moment you set your eyes on him at your dorm orientation tour. His blonde hair was freshly bleached at that point and pulled back in a snapback, showing off the bold, black brows that complemented his sharp, feline eyes.

It was uncontrollable. He’s just the kind of attractive that exerts a magnetic pull on your gaze, drawing you in relentlessly no matter how many times you avert your eyes.

And the kind of attractive that makes you lose track of what’s happening. You realized belatedly that you’d zoned out from the tour.

“-survival tips. Make sure you collect your laundry from the dryer promptly. One, because people who hog the machines are inconsiderate assholes. Two, because the dorm cat has a habit of stealing socks and underwear. So unless you like the idea of your unmentionables as surprise gifts for your neighbors- in which case, you’re a psychopath-, please just collect your laundry on time.”

A quick glance at the group around you confirmed that you’re not the only one bewildered by Jin’s words.

“Oh!” Jin’s voice cut through the buzz of confusion. “Just one last thing. There’s a strict no dating rule between the RA and students. I know, I know. It’s hard resisting this gorgeous face. But let’s all give it our best attempt, alright?”

You remember scoffing internally at Jin’s words. There’s just one simple rule you have for yourself in college. No dating.

Between your studies in the day and crime-fighting at night, you simply don’t have the time for it.

And it’s this same rule you have to remind yourself of as you tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi casually running his hand through his hair as he contemplates the project.

Just one last loop and- fuck. Did the loser call for backup? You drop the ropes to throw up a force field. The aluminum bat gets flung off into the distance, careening off your invisible force field. Thank god you heard the heavy footsteps approaching. You’ve been on the receiving end of baseball bat attacks, and let’s just say you’ve come to empathize greatly with baseballs after that experience.

You swivel to face him. Block his hook. Uppercut. The thug staggers backwards, clutching his jaw.

There’s movement in your periphery. The first guy has disentangled himself from the ropes. You spot him just as he breaks into a run. Shit. He’s escaping.

A kick lands itself in your side, sending you to the ground. Snap. A cold sense of dread fills the pit of your stomach as the visual of your wrist bent at an awkward angle registers in your mind. The tingling pain blooms as you shake it out.

But you don’t have time to take care of that right now. You’ll have to rely on the adrenaline to keep you going.

You take a second to check if your mask is still in place- alright, you’re good. Turning your attention back to the asshole that attacked you, you fix him with a glare. Before this, it was just a moral obligation to stand against lawlessness. Now, it’s personal.

You recover into a squat. Swipe a kick at his feet. He lands heavily. From his crumpled position on the ground, he makes a grab for you. But you shoot out a force field. The wind’s knocked out of him with the way he’s sandwiched between your blow and the hard asphalt.

Your kick is unnecessarily hard as you roll him onto his front. But an eye for an eye, y’know.

Learning from your earlier mistakes, you tie this one up swiftly.

“Ooh, kinky,” he mutters.

Your sharp retort sits tantalizingly on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too risky to speak. It’s far easier to get recognized by your voice than one would think. You would know. Even after over a decade, the memory of that gravelly voice still haunts you.

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

No, you’ll never be able to forget it.

The thug beneath you grunts as you tug the knot extra tight. He deserves it anyway.

Now here’s the only part you hate about successful captures- lugging the offenders to the police station. It’s times like this you really wish you had a different superpower; superstrength, or superspeed, or, dare you say it, teleportation. You’ve considered using your force fields to lob the criminals forward, but all superpowers have their limits. It takes too much out of you to do that and you’ll be too drained to get back to the dorm by the end of it.

And so, with little care for how unglamorous it looks, you drag the thug all the way to the police station two blocks down.

It’s as you’re nearing the station, tasting the sweet relief of your task finally coming to an end, that you hear it- crack. The flash of blue pops up right before the station.

If it weren’t for the flash of blue and prominent crack sound, you wouldn’t have noticed him. Dressed head to toe in black- much like your own get-up-, Vulture manifests out of nowhere, together with a burly, scar-faced man. The other thug from earlier.

This is the closest you’ve been to Vulture. Before this, you’ve only ever seen him in the distance as he pops in to pick up your thugs and pops back out. But now, you’re close enough to pick up on the narrow gold trim that subtly lines his otherwise midnight black mask.

The thug in your hands groans at the sight of his accomplice having been caught. Vulture’s head whips towards you, finally alerted to your presence. Hurriedly, he drops ol’ scarface at the doorstep of the station and teleports out.

Damn, looks like you’ll be playing ding dong ditch by yourself again tonight.

Depositing the thug next to his accomplice, you thump on the door of the station twice and sprint back into the cover of the night.

The pain is truly setting in now. The adrenaline from earlier is all gone and there’s nothing sedating the pain. As if indignant from being ignored, the gnawing pain in your wrist comes biting back now with a vengeance.

But you’re already on campus grounds, so it’s just one more dash across the green, skirt stealthily around the building, up the tree to your second-storey dorm room, and you’ll be home free.

Your wrist throbs. At this point, you crave nothing more than to be showered and tucked into your bed in your jammies. Exhaustion from the entire ordeal laces your bones as you sneak your way back to the dorm.

Ok, it’s just round the corner now and- your heart leaps in your chest when you spot the shadow. Shit. In your impatience you’ve become complacent. You spin to identify the source and oh, thank god. It’s just the dorm cat skulking around in the quiet of the night.

Climbing the tree into your room has never been the easiest thing, but it’s made ten times harder with your wrist out of commission. But somehow, you manage it.

After a quick shower, you head to the shared kitchen to grab some ice for your wrist. You opt to leave the kitchen lights off, the shroud of darkness like a comforting blanket.

“Fancy seeing you awake.”

You jolt. Oh. Yoongi. You weren’t really banking on anyone else being awake.

“I could say the same to you,” you say, hand over your heart. “What are you doing up? It’s three am.”

He raises his water jug in reply. “What about you?”

“Lost track of time doing assignments,” you make up on the fly. “And then I tripped over my books in my sleepy state and busted my wrist.”

“Oh damn,” he says, hoisting himself off where he was leaning against the counter. “Can I take a look?”

His fingers are gentle as they turn your wrist to examine the damage. You try not to stare at how long and pretty they are. How is this even fair? How is it that even his fingers are attractive?

“It’s pretty swollen.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Let me get you an ice pack.”

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod, and move to sit.

He digs out someone’s bag of frozen peas and places it gently over your wrist where it lays on the table. The next fifteen minutes is spent in quiet conversation. Despite his quiet exterior, you discover that Yoongi is surprisingly easy to talk to. Of course, you’ve talked to him during your project meetings. But the content of your conversations then are largely restricted to the task at hand.

But here, in the midnight darkness, you find that the hushed words and laughter flow with such easy chemistry, and you desperately try not to fall any harder for him.

You take the peas- half-melted and dripping now- and dump it on the table. Wiping your wrist off on your shirt, you retrieve your bandage from your pocket and attempt to tie it yourself as Yoongi watches.

“Need help?” he offers.

“M’fine,” you reply distractedly.

“Really?”

Your family’s always lamented your obstinate nature, and you guess it’s not baseless.

Yoongi’s hand grasps yours. “Let me.”

Before your hand starts shaking from the nervous energy that’s growing in you, you let go of the bandage resignedly.

His expression is plain as he binds your wrist, as if this is a daily occurrence for him. Maybe it is. His movements look practiced, and the bandage is just tight enough that it restricts movement without cutting off blood circulation.

“You’re good at this,” you say. “Is there some secret side to you that you’re not revealing?”

He laughs a little. “I used to play basketball, and injuries were really common.”

You watch in fascination at the expert movements of his hands. Tucking the end of the bandage in, he pats your newly bandaged wrist lightly.

“All done.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Take care of yourself. I still need you alive for our project.”

Accompanying the usual morning bleariness that plagues you whenever you have just woken up, this morning it’s coupled with a dull ache in your wrist. Right. Your sprained wrist.

Shifting carefully to avoid placing any weight on your injured arm, you sit up to inspect the dressing. It’s a little mussed up, but its structural integrity is largely intact. Good, you won’t have to redo the bandaging then.

Or worse still, ask Yoongi to patch you up again.

Memories of the dimly lit kitchen come back to you, the faint glow of the corridor lights falling on the contours of his face, the high planes illuminated in an orange luminescence.

In the low light, the way his hands moved as they wrapped your wrist up wasn’t any less elegant and entrancing. The pressure that it exerted on your tender flesh was gentle, taking care not to aggravate the swollen injury.

Fuck. As if you weren’t already having a hard time holding off your feelings for him. Feelings had been bubbling up in you ever since orientation and they grew ever more persistent with each project meeting.

Why did he have to be attractive and nice? It would have been much simpler if he were just an asshole. But no, his personality just had to be as attractive as his appearance, didn’t it?

You stretch to work out the residual sleepiness, but your right rib aches in protest. Lifting your shirt and inspecting it in the mirror, a purplish bruise greets you. That sidekick really did a number on you.

Mornings like this really make you think twice about your decision to walk down the vigilante path. Mornings when the twinging pain of injuries sustained and the fatigue from having spent half the night patrolling the streets is just a little too much to bear. Mornings like this really have you wondering if you should just give it up for a normal college student’s life.

It’s truly tempting. The prospect of getting more than three hours of sleep per night is so delicious. Cuts and bruises would be a rarity. And the fluttery feeling of having a crush on a cute guy wouldn’t have to be marked as a distraction and suppressed into oblivion anymore. You want it. So much. Mornings like this, you really want to call it quits.

But your memory prevents you from doing so.

The way your mum’s hand trembled around yours as she urgently pulled you to the backroom is seared into your mind forever. Even now, your hand quivers.

Her eyes are wide with fear as she whispers, “Stay quiet.”

“The supers will be here soon, right, mum?” you ask.

“That’s right, ____.” She tucks your hair behind your ear with a shaky hand. “We just have to wait for the supers to get here.”

With that, she closes the door and the darkness envelops you. The padlock clicks just outside the door.

“Where’s the safe?” A gruff voice asks. Shivers trail down your spine.

“The cops are on their way,” you can hear your dad respond. Pride fills you at his bravery. “Look, you don’t have to do this. You can walk away right now and-”

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

You can hear your mum’s pleas between hiccuped sobs.

“Well if you’re not going to tell me,” the voice continues, “I’ll just have to use brute force.”

More destruction ensues. You wince with every crash, keeping a lid on the whimpers that threaten to escape you. Where are the cops?! Where are the supers?!

“A locked door. Is that an indication of something?” The voice is close now; only the door stands between you.

Bam! The door before you rattles violently. You, too, shake in fear.

“I’ll tell you where it is!” Your dad panickedly relents. “The safe. I’ll tell you where the safe is.”

“Glad you changed your mind, old man.” The footsteps retreat.

And as you emerged from the room later that night, your nine-year-old eyes taking in the wreckage and the distinct absence of help from the police or from the supers that supposedly kept your city safe, your dreams shattered just like the glass shards that laid scattered across your parents’ store.

Ever since you discovered your powers at age five, it became your ambition to become a super. With a flashy power like yours, the chances of it happening were reasonably high.

But all that changed when your parents’ store was mugged. The supers you so admired were nowhere to be found. They were simply too busy fighting other bigger fish out there. And the police? It was a known fact that they’d gotten complacent ever since the advent of the supers.

And that left smaller stores- stores like your family’s- unprotected and susceptible to attacks by ruffian gangs that reigned in the streets. No one cares for petty crime. Not when there are bigger battles to fight out there. It was a flaw in the system.

A flaw that you aim to address through your vigilantism. What use were your flashy powers and lofty ambitions when you just remained frozen in inaction when the time calls for it? The gnawing guilt morphed into a thirst for redemption. You would become the defender of the streets.

So as lonely and draining as it is to live this life of masked identities, you can’t possibly give it up. Your conscience won’t let you.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come out to the streets just days after sustaining your injury. But after icing and resting it for a day, you swear your wrist is feeling much better. Plus, you skipped your usual nightly patrols last night, but the guilt and worry had left you restlessly tossing and turning in bed. So here you are, mask on and back out on the streets.

The thug takes a swing at you. Normally you would have countered it with a block to follow quickly with a punch of your own. But with your wrist out of commission, you choose to duck down. Even your force fields would cause your wrists to absorb some impact, so the moves at your disposal are severely limited today.

You land a roundhouse kick to his side. He sputters. But he responds swiftly with a counterattack.

You’ve tried to attack mainly from your legs. Even so, your wrist feels the effects of the fight. Wrapped in its bandage, albeit sloppier than Yoongi’s expert dressing the other night but still secure enough, your sprained wrist throbs dully from the exertion.

In an attempt to soothe the ache, you roll it out- ah, the pain flares up your arm. You take deep breaths to work through the pain. You have to keep moving.

But it seems the thug has noticed your weakness. He moves quickly. Grabs your wrist and twists.

“AHHH!” The shrill scream of agony that escapes you is reflexive.

Somewhere in the midst of the white hot pain, you manage to scrape together enough sense of mind to shoot out a force field. It’s weak, and it adds yet another layer to your pain, but it’ll suffice. The thug stumbles back off-kilter.

You cradle your aggravated injury to your chest and blink back the tears. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should just give it up for tonight. It won’t be the first time a thug has gotten away, after all.

But it seems that he hasn’t had enough. He storms towards you, his face curled into a sneer.

You clench your fists. It protests in pain, but you ignore it and lower yourself into a fighting stance. You’re not sure what you can do now with the state that you’re in, but you have no choice.

Just as he picks up into a run, he’s yanked back. The immensity of the relief that washes through you as you hear that crack is so overwhelming, your legs go slightly jelly.

Vulture materializes, in his usual all-black attire, from beanie to combat boots. The gold trim of his mask glints ominously under the moonlight.

The thug takes a knee to the stomach. Vulture’s movements are so quick and sharp, the thug retches slightly. A right hook follows, without missing a beat. The thug veers to his right from its impact. But Vulture doesn’t give him an inch. He throws a left uppercut. A solid kick to the chest seamlessly completes the combo. The thug collapses in a heap on the ground.

Vulture moves like a predator on the hunt. The pace at which he stalks forward is completely unhurried. The lowlife attempts to crawl away, but he’s jerked back by the collar.

Still clutching your wrist, you watch dumbly as Vulture teleports away with the thug before you can get a word of gratitude in.

When you finally rouse from slumber the next morning, it’s from being jolted awake by the unmuffled blare of a car horn. The soundproofing in your room is shitty, but not normally this shitty. Turning to the window through which you slipped into your room last night, you realize it’s open. You were probably too tired to remember to shut it last night.

You pad over to the window, meaning to close it, when you step on something cool and smooth, but very unfamiliar. You retract your foot and look down.

Icy fear grips you. The sensation of it under your foot may have been unfamiliar, but the sight of it is definitely not. Laying on your floor is a black mask lined with gold trim.

What does this mean? Is it supposed to be a sign? Is it some sick joke? Has Vulture figured out who you are? What does he want from you?

Picking it up in your hands and skimming your thumb over the textured leather, you recall the way Vulture defended you last night. Sure, you get frustrated when he swipes your captures. But you can’t deny that, ultimately, you’re on the same side.

But having operated wordlessly all this while, and only coming in for the kill, Vulture remains an enigma. You can’t be sure of his real agenda when you’ve never fought side by side with him, let alone exchanged a word. But you can’t blame him either. You haven’t been one to break the silence either.

Perhaps you will have to now.

As it turns out, you don’t get the chance to. Break the silence, that is. For the third night in a row now, Vulture is a no show.

And for the third night in a row, the criminal gets away.

You’re tempted to blame it on your sprained wrist. But you can’t help but recall all the times thugs have slipped out of your grasp, only to be picked off by Vulture. Honestly, these last three days have you reluctantly acknowledging that your job is much harder without your silent partner.

You strain your ears in anticipation of a crack sound. But for the third night in a row, you’re left disappointed.

What’s up with all these no-shows lately?

You groan as the call gets diverted to voicemail yet again. It’s the seventh call you’ve dialled to Yoongi. Checking the time, it’s now half an hour past your agreed upon meeting time.

You slam your laptop shut. This is ridiculous. Does he think that his cute face will let him get away with everything? Just because he’s produced nothing but quality work in your pairwork so far doesn’t excuse anything.

Ok. Maybe you’re being a little harsh on him. Maybe.

But can you be blamed for being in such a crappy mood? After the shit show that was the last few nights of crime-fighting, you’re already in a foul mood. And now, hauling your sleep-deprived self out of bed and to the library at eight in the morning on a Saturday morning, only to have your partner pull a no-show? Who wouldn’t be pissed?

You shove your things into your bag and trudge back to the dorm. If you get to his room and he’s still in bed… No one can hold you responsible for what you’ll do next.

But you spot him, squatting by the shrubs that line the dorm, as you’re making your way across the green, and he’s very much awake.

You march up to him, intending to tap him on the shoulder and give him a piece of your mind.

“That damn cat,” you hear him mutter. You pause, curiosity piqued. “THIS is why dogs are man’s best friend, not cats. Holly would NEVER.”

“Looking for something?” you ask. He jumps, and turns around.

“Oh, ____,” he says, standing up from his crouched position. “Yeah, I lost something.”

“Funny, because I was looking for something too for the past-” you check your watch dramatically “- half an hour now.”

He gasps. You can pinpoint the exact moment the realization hits him. “I’m so sorry! It totally slipped my mind.”

You sigh. He’s honestly too cute. As it turns out, the answer is yes. His cute face will indeed let him get away with everything; your anger is completely diffused.

“Let’s just take a break this week,” you say.

“You don’t have to do that on my account. Just give me five minutes to grab my stuff.”

“Nah, we’ve made sufficient progress on this assignment that we’ve earned it. And you look like you’re too troubled by whatever you’ve lost anyway,” you say with a wave of your hand.

You pause, weighing your next words. But damn your soft spot for him. “Hey, do you want an extra pair of eyes to help you look?”

He considers your offer for a second. Then, hesitantly, he says, “Ok. Yeah. That’d be great actually.”

“So what are you looking for?”

He purses his lips. Did the cat really steal his underwear? Whatever he’s lost must be pretty embarrassing if it’s this hard to tell you.

Finally, he sighs and spits it out. “I know it sounds weird but I’m looking for a mask.”

You feel your jaw go slack.

“A mask?” you echo hollowly. “Like a ski mask?”

“No, um.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Y’know what, forget I said anything. I’m sure I’ll find it myself.”

He turns back to inspecting the bush. But now you have to know.

“Is it a black mask? With gold trim?”

Yoongi freezes for a second. It’s all the answer you need.

He laughs, and you can tell it’s forced. “Have you seen it?”

“No way.” It’s a mumble at first, then it all comes tumbling out of your mouth. “No way. No way! YOU’RE Vulture?!”

“Vult- What?!”

“Right. Sorry. That’s just the name I gave you because you keep swiping my thugs. And yes, I’ve seen it. Seen it every night you pop in and steal my captures.”

“Wait,” he says, his eyes growing wide as he comprehends what you’re saying. “YOU’RE that hot vigilante with the cool force fields? The one who can’t keep the thugs restrained for nuts?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Hey. You have no grounds to complain. Not when you call me Vulture.”

“I’m so tired,” you manage to whine through a whisper. “We bagged three criminals tonight. Can’t you just teleport us back to the dorm?”

“You know we can’t do that, love,” he whispers, rubbing your back. “My powers aren’t the most stealthy. And c’mon, we’re almost there.”

Behind your own mask, you smile contentedly. The lonely nights of crime-fighting have become not so lonely after all.

As it turns out, your synergy with Yoongi is not limited to academic work. It’s been a month now and your teamwork functions like a well-oiled machine, your force fields weakening the thugs and directing them to where Yoongi waits in the shadows to teleport them off to jail where they belong.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, barely maintaining your hushed tone. The dorm cat slinks round the corner, yanking you out of your thoughts.

“That damn cat,” Yoongi mutters.

You pinch his ear, one of the few exposed parts of his body in this attire. “If not for ‘that damn cat’, we wouldn’t have gotten together. You have much to thank this cat for.”

You can’t see it but you know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“You have no defence because you know I’m right,” you taunt.

“Fine, you are,” he says and begins to lift his mask to lean in for a kiss.

You pull it back down. “Don’t get distracted now. We can cuddle later when we’re back safe, ok?”

He huffs, but there’s a spring in his step that was not there before.

And as the two of you round the corner to clamber back up to the safety of your room, the dorm cat watches with eyes aglow in the moonlight.

Your window clicks shut. It’s safe now. Jin shape-shifts out of his cat form and smirks to himself. He still remembers the mutually stolen side glances from orientation. How could he not ship your two dorky asses?

And all the sneaking around that both of you were doing every night, unaware that you both had a masked companion in each other?

But ah, it seems that you’ve finally got your shit together. All he did was nudge you in the right direction. Looks like it worked. Mission accomplished.

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dreamer213 · 3 years

Text

Broken machines: Lights the dark

Chapter 2 Beautiful Night

In dark quiet room a young man sits atop his bed waiting. The room itself is opulent and pristine, a queen size bed with silk sheets, oak wood floor, a gorgeous antique armoire full of designer clothing, a full length mirror, silver trend curtains, an ornately detailed desk, bookshelf filled with materials on business, culture, and the arts and even a bath en-suite. Truly a scene ripped straight from a magazine with it’s presentation and uniform coloring. Nothing but dark blues, grays, and whites as far as the eye could see, it gives off a very chic and vintage feel but such a cold color scheme leaves little room for light to enter. With darkness of night sky peeking through the window It is as though the room itself becomes like snow, beautiful and magnificent in appearance but cold and devoid of life. The same can be said for the boy, smooth white hair set neat and tidy in a simple but elegant cut, a long and slender figure with good posture and a gorgeous face with high cheek bones, full lips, a perfect jaw line, long lashes, and beautiful deep blue eyes. But behind those beautiful eyes lays a cold and empty stare, no youthful joy or warmth to speak of, just the cold stare of empty soul. If not for his breathing and movements he could be mistaken for a porcelain doll, left in it’s display never to be moved or play with but to be held up and admired. But that is not important right now. No, what matters right now is if Weiss’s found the back doors they left open for her and made her escape yet.

It’s been a while she should be long gone by now, if she hasn’t left yet it won’t be long before Father finds her then Gods know what he’ll will do. I mean getting caught trying to escape the city after nearly killing a defenseless woman at a public event over some unkind remarks. Cleaning up this mess is going to be hell on its own but if Father finds her trying to run away He’ll-

Whitley tenses up and grips his biceps through his sleeves, there’s a dazed look in his eyes. He closes his eyes, takes some deep breath, and calms himself.

No, I can’t think like that now. I have to believe that she followed through, that she ran away pre her usually sanctimonious behavior. I mean what did she think she was going to achieve by acting like that. Did she think that was going to change their minds? Did she really think that screaming like a child and losing control of her powers was going to do anything but cause chaos. If General Ironwood hadn’t been there we all could been killed by that monster. But no, even after fighting Grimm and seeing how terrifying they are first hand, she still never once gave a thought to what the consequences of her actions would be for anyone but herself. But then again that just might be who she is now. Doesn’t matter if she to her if she’s right or wrong, if she feels attacked she’ll just lash out either physical or verbal. With all her talk of restoring our family name I never thought she would do something like this. I never thought she would go this far but then again I never thought she’d treat me like an enemy. I try my best to engage with her whenever I could and she accuses me of wanting to her get disinherited and acts like I’ve stolen her role away from her. Really? She thought I would want the life both she and Winter ran away from the first chance they could. Seriously? What do I gain from her failure, living at home with a drunk for mother, a tyrant father, and a staff of people traumatized from working with them. Having my every move monitored and commanded by a man who cares more about money than human life. The enormous amount of work that comes with preparing to take over a company of such great magnitude and whatever grunt work Father doesn’t feel like doing. OH! Let’s not forget the fact that you’ll never truly be in charge as Father will surely keep you trapped under his heel until the day he dies! A life as puppet to a man whose dragged our family name through the dirt trapped in a house colder than the coldest of blizzard. Yes Weiss, I so desperately wanted you to run away to live your dreams so I could live your nightmare.

“WHERE IS SHE!!!” “WHERE DID THAT WORTHLESS BRAT GO!”

Whitley hears his father screaming down the hall, the screaming continues for almost an hour until it’s becomes clear that Weiss has escaped. For moment everything’s quite as though the entire manor has become frozen in time. But not long after the silence there’s a crash then another and another. The commotion grows louder and louder with every passing second until the shirks of manor staff become just loud as the havoc Jacques Schnee is wreaking.

Whitley: Looks like it’s time to clean up the mess.

Whitley gets up and walks out of his room towards the commotion. As he gets closer and closer as follows his father’s path of destruction. Broken glass, fallen paintings, and décor pieces smashed and scattered across the floor the halls are in shambles. When he finally reaches his father the situation is much worse than he expected. Jacques has completely lost his composure, he’s throwing things, screaming wildly, his face is beet red and his eyes are bulging. The servants are trying their best to calm down while trying to avoid getting hit. They try and try but nothing they do seems to calms him. As this struggle continues Whitley approaches them, he quietly walks up behind them. He stands there waiting for an opportunity to grab his father’s attention.

Jacques: AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE DONE FOR THAT UNGRATEFUL BITCH SHE DARED TO DEFY ME LIKE THIS!

Whitley: Father please, you need to calm down the stress isn’t good for—

Before he can get another word out an object goes flying past Whitley’s head. It was a small antique clock a gift from a business associate. His father Jacques Schnee, who was now facing him, had thrown it within an inch of his own son’s head. Jacques stalks over towards Whitley, getting closer and closer until he is standing over his son and stares directly into his eyes.

Jacques: What did you say?

Whitley: Stay calm, stay focused, you have to see this to an end before things get worse. I said you should calm down you shouldn’t be stressing yourself over such a minor issue. It’s not good for your health.

Jacques: And do tell me Whitley, how is your sister running away a “minor issue”.

Whitley: Well she’s already been disinherited and made a public spectacle of herself, there’s no real need for her to be at the manor anymore. That and when people ask about her and how she was punished you can say she was kick out and thrown to the streets for her awful behavior. For most that were present at that party the very idea of being cut off is the stuff of nightmares, hearing that the heiress to Schnee dust fortune got herself thrown out for her reckless mistakes should help calm the ruckus Weiss created.

For a moment everyone pauses, they hold their breath waiting for the elder Schnee’s reaction. After what feels like hours Jacques puts his hand above Whitley’s head. He brings it down and begins to slow pat his son’s head.

Jacques: Good job Whitley, you always have your mind in the right place when I need you to.

Whitley: Of course Father, I’m always thinking of what’s best for the Schnee legacy.

Jacques: Good, now then get this mess cleaned up I need to go have a talk with Klein. I just know that dog had a hand in this.

Whitley: Yes Father, I’ll have the staff get this up right away.

Jacques gives an approving nod then walks away. As soon as his step can no longer be heard and he is out of earshot the servants all breathe a sigh of relief and start cleaning up. Whitley walks down the hall, searching for someone. After roughly half an hour up and down the second floor Whitley finally finds the person he’s been looking for, Mary Shellor.

Mary Shellor has been working at the Schnee Manor for several years. When she first arrived no one expected her to last very long but to their surprise she acclimated to the environment rather quickly. She was also a very diligent worker, never making a mistake more then once. And because of her skill, not long after her hiring Mary was promoted to one of the most important and most difficult positions in the manor, Willow’s personal maid. She’d become Willow’s shadow following and serving her wherever she may go unless dismissed. During her first year as Willow’ maid also sought out and obtained another role, or rather a long term investment. You see after observing the family for a time it became clear to Mary which child would inherit the family fortune. The children, Winter, Weiss, and Whitley, had been raised quite incorrectly for their natures. Like wolves raised as show dogs ,they were trained to be obedient, intelligent, and outstanding but because of their strong willed and fierce natures they could never truly be tamed. First and second born were allowed enough freedom to want for more and seek an end to their captivity even if it meant losing everything. Eventuality they were able to beard their fangs and break free of their chains. But the third born, the son, was not allowed such opportunities, No Jacques had learned from his past mistakes he wasn’t letting this one get away. Whitley was kept closer, his chains made tighter, and cage made much smaller then his predecessors. And yet Mary could still see the wolf in him, though different from his sisters it was still there. Unlike his sisters he couldn’t attack or run from his situation so the boy did the only thing he could and did it well, he played along. He played the role of Father’s loyal dog so well that even his sister believed the act without question but unbeknownst to her or their father beneath that mask Whitley’s fangs were growing strap, he was waiting. Whitley knows when he’s at a disadvantage he knows when to act and when to retreat, he knows how to play games, the game of Atlas politics, his father’s games, and the games of the business world. The day Whitley would strike would be the day everything would be returned to a true Schnee, one who knew how to survive in this world, who knew the mistakes of the past and how not to repeat them. Mary wanted to be on the right side when that day came and so she became Whitley’s eyes and ears in and outside of the manor as long as he promised to keep her in mind when the time came. That was their argument one Mary never doubted would play out in her favor.

Whitley: Mary where’s Mother?

Mary: The Mistress has retreated to the library. After the shouting started she ran inside and hid. I asked her if there was anything I could do and she dismissed me.

Whitley: Thank you Mary, stay here I’ll be back in a moment.

Mary: Yes, Young master

Whitley walks pass her towards the library, once at the doors he pulls them open only to find that the lights are off and the scent of alcohol is heavy in the air. Whitley follow the scent deeper and deeper into the library, gagging slightly the closer he gets, as he draws nearer to the source he finds a trail of wine bottles.

Whitley: They’re all empty, she’s close.

He picks up the bottles as he follows the trail until he finds a blanket covered figure sitting on the floor tucked into a corner. Whitley puts the bottles down and slowly approaches the figure, small sobs escape it as he drew closer, he kneels down in front of them with his hands on his knees. He then gently pulls the blanket off the figure to reveal his mother Willow Schnee, sobbing and trembling beneath the blanket she’s wrapped herself in.

Whitley: It’s over Mother, Father’s gone back to his office. You can go back to your room now he won’t be coming out for some time.

Whitley holds out his hand towards Willow, with a shaky hand Willow grabs onto her son. Whitley grabs onto tightly, wraps his free arm around her shoulders and pulls her up. He steadies her as she gets on her feet, and guides her through the darkness and into the hallway. Once they’re out out of the library he hands Willow off to Mary.

Whitley: Take her back to her room she can barely walk, make sure to leave a bucket by her bed. And don’t let her have anything else tonight she has too much in her system already. She’s also left a good amount of empties on floor again, have someone clean those up before Father’s next reading hour.

Mary: Of course Young Master, we’ll have everything clean and in order before Master Jacques get up for breakfast.

Whitley:Thank you Mary , that will be all for tonight.

This was why Mary chose to put her faith in the boy, for as cold and defensive as Whitley was he was also incredibly loyal. Whenever the Master flew off the handle the Young Master would do everything in his power to calm him down and keep him calm for as long as possible. At first Mary thought this was more his loyal dog act but after a few more incidents it was clear what he was doing. Whitley would never sacrifice another’s safety for his own. His true purpose for playing the Master’s game was not to obtain power but peace and freedom from the chains that bind this manor and the people in it.

With that Mary and Willow depart towards Willow’s bedroom while Whitley retreats his own. Once there he closes the door behind himself and pressing his back against the door. He takes a deep breath then slumps down the door, gets into the fetal position and starts to sob. He cries and weeps for a long, long time, until his face is red and his voice horse. Once he finally he stops Whitley gets up and goes to his ensuite to clean himself up. After a long bath he puts on his sleepwear and lays down on his bed, he stares up at the ceiling until he finally succumbs to his own exhaustion and falls into a dreamless sleep.

#whitley schnee #broken machines #rwby #rwby fanfiction #fanfic #Someone hold this baby #sad #fanfiction

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

Text

Mystics, Chapter 36

84,000 words later....

I can’t thank everyone enough who sent in asks, commented, liked, and reblogged Mystics as it was being created. It meant the world to me and gave me so much inspiration to continue! Special thanks to Myst, of course. Continue to send in asks for the OCs as much as you want. A part 2 is in the works.

Enjoy Mystics’ final chapter. I hope its been as much fun to read as it was for me to write! <3

Xx -Alpaca

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror & @livingforthewhump

CW: captivity, blood mention, drug mention, cheesy dancing at the end.

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

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: THREE LITTLE BIRDS

Remember: Matter. How tiny your share of it. Time. How brief and fleeting your allotment of it. Fate. How small a role you play in it.

- Marcus Aurelius, Meditations.

Shining white, pristine walls lined the hall. It didn’t take long for Hekate to catch up. Paimon didn’t know why he expected anything less. Now his arms were held behind his back by a cosmic force, unknown even to him, and the inorganic urge to continue walking by her side pushed him forward. He spoke little, and listened even less to what the old hag was saying.

“I cannot promise you will be happy here, but at least you will not be alone in your imprisonment,” Hekate said.

They turned around a corner through the maze of halls and landed upon a wide set of sliding doors. The whole realm was practically space-age. Hekate was clever to disguise the entryway to her realm as his own Labyrinth.

He should never have jumped through. That was a rookie mistake. The moment Apollo was released, he should have known something was amiss. Lyrem certainly didn’t have the talents to perform such a feat.

“This is best for you, Pan,” Hekate continued. “I know that with a little more helpful guidance, you can return to your true nature, and your true glory.”

“Paimon.”

Hekate paused. “No, no, no, my dear. You are Pan. You always have been Pan. You will always be Pan.”

The sliding doors opened. Inside this room there was yet another hallway, but instead of previous areas, this one was lined with clear walls. Perfect for seeing through into the cells that would hold a chosen prisoner.

Many of them were empty. Hekate continued toward the end, until Paimon reached the last of the cells. There was a simple bed and some books on a nightstand that had been left untouched. The room was covered in a white rubber. The bed, made of wood.

“I am not going in there,” Paimon said, his brows furrowed.

Hekate agreed with a nod of her head.

“You are correct. You are going into this one.”

The cell door across from the one that had taken Paimon’s attention opened with a whirring noise. Unable to stop himself, Paimon stepped through the threshold. The door whirred shut behind him and he was released, finally, from whatever command Hekate had over him.

“This is an abuse of power!”

“An abuse of power is what you had for many, many years on Earth my darling dear. And quite frankly, I have had enough of your games,” Hekate observed calmly. “You will have much in common with your cellmate. Let me put it simply, Pan. The sooner you behave, the sooner you will be released.”

Pan- no! Paimon looked around his new home as new objects formed around him out of nothingness. A simple bed, nightstand, all as white as snow on Christmas day and one thing in the corner that stood out among everything else because of its red mahogany sheen- a Pan flute.

“If you wish to have anything more, then you will need to earn it,” Hekate stated.

Darkly, Paimon turned around, meeting his great aunt’s eyes.

“I will destroy you for this. I will ruin you. I will make sure no one ever knows of you. I will turn you into a forgotten relic! Just as you deserve to be!”

Hekate raised a brow to show how meaningless Paimon’s threats truly were to her.

“I would think it something to be admired, if you could do any one of those things, darling dear. Certainly, if even your own father could not do those things, then it would be worth true congratulation.”

Paimon charged the clear wall and then stole a glance to the cell across from him, where someone had returned from using a restroom. The mysterious person sat on the edge of his bed. Someone vaguely familiar, with light eyes and a trimmed white beard, looking drastically different than he remembered. Paimon blinked.

“Dad?”

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

“Have you ever heard the tale of Sisyphus?”

“It may shock you to learn I haven’t ever quite finished the Iliad, but yes, I have.” Lyrem replied to Hades’ question. “So, you’ll have repeat a meaningless, trivial task for all eternity in my afterlife as a punishment for imprisoning you as per Pan’s command. How very original. Did you think of that all on your own, or did you need your brother’s help?”

“My brother Zeus has not been heard from for a millennia. While he had given me some inspiration, I thought it better to put my own ironic flair into your suffering.”

Persephone interrupted with a short squeak.

“No, uncle, please don’t be so ruthless. He’s lost so much already!”

Artemis had switched back into her cat-like form, comforting her brother Apollo in his lap and purring. She had let out a protest of her own in Lyrem’s favour as well.

Apollo translated. “Arty agrees. We should be kind to him. Truly uncle, I have to imagine that Pan had quite the psychological hold on this man. Perhaps it would be wise to show him a tad bit of mercy?”

Hades looked to the naïve children and back to the human-mortal-man with growing disinterest. Then a light crossed his face, as though an idea dawned on him. He allowed himself to smile, ever so gently.

“Well, I can see that you have created quite the positive rapport with my nieces and nephew already. I don’t know why I am so surprised.”

Lyrem shot a quick wink to Persephone as a thank you.

“Which is why, I shall grant you eternal life.” Hades continued.

Lyrem looked back to him, and stammered.

“What- what did… Did you just say what I think you said?"

Hades nodded. Everyone looked joyful. Excited even. Lyrem could last forever- very nearly be one of them. Yes, everyone thought this to be a grand idea, except for obviously, Lyrem.

“When you die, I will refuse to take your soul. Every time without fail. You will forever grow old, then older… then older. And you will never die.”

“No.”

“Welcome to a lifetime of arthritis and aching legs and never-ending cataract surgery,” Hades said. “Oh, yes, that is right, Thomas. I know how old you are, and how much older you will get before your cells no longer hold you together. Consider this a gift.”

“No, please, God Hades. I need to find Ros-”

“Goodbye ‘Lyrem’. Have yourself a wonderful life.”

He was gone. All the mortals had left the Underworld, finally. Now, Hades could return to restoring his realm to its proper state.

Persephone perked up, realizing she was free to create and grow everything back to the way it was in the Underworld.

“My pond!” She cried, running out the dining room doors towards the Depths of Despair. “I swear, if Pan killed my koi, I am going to be furious!”

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

“Why the hell are there empty bins in the hall?! Where are all my photos?! What on earth happened to my stereo?!”

Arch groaned, sitting up from the floor of the living room. Their mother was already back to her old self, standing and shouting and asking questions that no one would care to answer for her.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Arthur answered. He stood to his feet and limped slowly down the hall. “I’m pouring myself a bath.”

Charlotte rushed past her brother and her child, throwing herself through the house in a frenzy. Arch stood with their back against the wall, arms crossed. It wasn’t anything defiant. They just wanted to be held.

“Where are all my clothes?!”

DING DONG

“Arch, I swear to God, you will tell me what happened while I was away, and where all my f-” ding dong “stuff is!”

Arch removed their bloody apron from their body, moved a short few steps to the kitchen sink and rinsed their hands that were still stained red.

DING DING DING DING DING DONG!

Arch rubbed their temple with their hands and out of instinct, walked to the front door.

It was Benji. Through the screen door, Arch saw him standing on the sidewalk in front of their house. He had just pressed play on his Bluetooth speaker sitting in the grass. It started playing a bizarre melody.

“Hey! You answered! I was hoping you would! You have no idea how many texts I’ve sent!”

Arch stepped out onto the top of the stairs, still puzzled to know what was happening. The summer heat still lingered in the air.

“Look, I don’t know what I did to deserve the cold-shoulder, but I thought you deserved a visit at least on your birthday, okay? So, sue me.”

“My birthday?” Arch said. “It’s… It’s August? Thirteenth?”

‘Me, my, oh, what a life So lean on my people, gon' be stepping in time’

“Yeah, dude! Did you seriously forget?!” Benji exclaimed, bobbing his head from side to side.

‘So, thank you!

For coming to my birthday party!

I am one minute old today

And everything is going great-’

Arch sputtered a reflexive, well-needed laugh. Benji had started dancing like an absolute fool on their front lawn. He pulled out a birthday candle from the recesses of his pocket and held it forward.

“Look, I’ve been wanting you to show me that magic trick again, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Arch placed their hands in their pockets, trying to work past their tears of both exhaustion and entertainment. They shook their head. They really didn’t want to know if they could still perform that trick.

“I�� forgot how.”

Benji stared back up, crestfallen. He checked his phone and lowered the volume on his music player.

“Fine, okay. Whatever. You don’t want me around. That’s cool. I get it. I’m a big shot. Not really your type to hang with-”

“What?”

Benji swallowed back his pain, and shrugged.

“It’s cool Arch. School’s over and we gotta go our separate ways. I understand.”

He started backing away. Arch leapt forward, and caught him by the elbow before he turned away completely.

“I want you to stay!” Arch admitted. “It’s totally cool if you want to hang out. Please stay... I… Honestly, I have been so lonely...”

How did the air get so thick?

“And I have missed you… so much.”

Benji’s sad, soulful eyes skeptically narrowed, and then widened with a realization.

“Dude… Have you been struggling? This whole time…? All summer? You gotta come to me with your shit! Don’t bottle it up, bud.” Benji wrapped them in a tight hug and rocked them to and fro. “Oh, I had no idea... You’re my main enby, Arch… I’ll be your Rick Astley forever… The Bernie to your Elton… Okay? Always. No doubt. No doubt.”

Arch took a moment to sob grossly into his shoulder. They pulled away before it got too squishy for their liking. If allowed, they knew Benji would let them cry on him until the end of time.

Arch took a deep breath of relief.

“Sorry, I’ve just been really stressed.”

“Yeah, hey. No kidding.” Benji said. “Look, here’s the plan, Shazia said that if I could reach you today that she’d meet us at the park with some of that fancy hash we like so that we can smoke up cakes.”

Arch scrunched their face.

“Cupcakes. Shazia would meet us in the park with cupcakes. Hey, Charlotte,” Benji cleared his throat, seeing the dark haired woman, who seemed to be hanging by a very fine thread from behind the screen door. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Benji. Arch, just go.”

“Wait. Really?” Arch turned around, wondering how she could be serious.

“You’re eighteen now, aren’t you?” Charlotte asked.

Arch nodded.

“Then get out.”

There wasn’t anything warm about the way Charlotte said those words. Instead of lingering too long on the nuance, Arch only nodded, watching the door to the house shut its inhabitants in.

Benji bent over to pick up his speaker. He didn’t miss a beat cutting the music.

“What was that all about?” He asked. Like Arch, he looked up at the closed door.

Arch wiped the wetness away from their face with a couple fingers.

“I… I think I was just kicked out.”

Arch cleared their throat. They turned back to Benji as the summer sun beat down on them both.

Oh Benji. He was the most welcome sight in this world. The only good thing left that Arch had yet to ruin. Shazia would soon await them both in the park. Their life with Paimon, Lyrem, and hell, was now in the past. A future containing Arthur and Charlotte filled with shame and regret awaited them.

That didn’t matter yet. All that mattered was what was right in front of them.

And Arch really, really, really wanted to get high.

“Anyways, you said something about smoking up?”

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unbelievableholland · 4 years

Note

prompt 73 for fluff? tom comes home from hanging out w the boys and sees clothes all over the floor and stuff thinking the reader is cheating on him. when he busts the door open he sees a blowup doll in the bed and the reader is hysterical. i’ve been watching too many pranks recently and i thought it’d be funny, thank you 😆😘

"What the fuck?!"

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Cheating as a prank, swearing, fluff, and it gets a lil smutty. It's not smut tho.

Words: 1,724

Summary: You decide to prank Tom as pay back for his previous prank on you.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this! I hope y'all like it! It's a bit different from the ones I wrote before just because of the ending😂 I hope I did a good job on that.

Prompt:

73. "It's a prank! It's a prank, it's a prank."

——————————————————————

Revenge. That’s all in your mind as you walk around the mall buying different men's clothing. Of course, you don’t really worry about the paparazzi since you and Tom aren’t public yet. Not being public has never been more convenient to the both of you when you go out on your own.

The reason you’re shopping for men’s clothing isn’t actually because you want to buy Tom new clothes, but because he pranked you a week before. You’re just planning a simple revenge prank, is all.

When you have a full set of clothes, you get in line to pay for them. You actually bought clothes the you know Tom would like though. You don’t want them to go to waste, so you bought a plain black hoodie, a red Spider-Man shirt and a pair of black-tinted pants.

Of course, You also bought accessories such as a belt, a cap, and a pair of shoes that Tom’s been wanting to buy, as an apology for what you’re about to do.

But you’d never forget about the main object of your prank. A blow-up doll.

On your way home, you actually second guess your plan because you feel a bit guilty. You thought back to his prank a week before though, and you’re sure that you’ll go through with your plan.

Tom’s prank was not nice at all. Him, his brothers, and Harrison staged a fight after all of you got back from the pub.

It was full of shouting between Tom and Harrison for a full 10 minutes. Harrison accused Tom on cheating on you, Tom acted suspiciously the whole time as well.

To summarize, it ended in you crying because you actually thought Tom cheated on you, but of course all of them told you it was a prank. They apologized for taking it too far, and you’ve been giving them the cold shoulder for a week.

You really aren’t mad though, but when they told you it was a prank, it resulted in you coming up with your own devious plan. Pretending to be mad at them is just a build-up to make you’re the prank more believable.

Once you get to your shared apartment with Tom knowing that he’s out drinking with the boys, you get the clothes from the paper bag and think about where you’re going to place them. They’d be back in one or two hours minimum, so you have no problem taking your time. You walk up to the table by the T.V and place a camera right there, pressing the record button. You can just cut the video after the prank.

You decide to place the shoes messily on the ground near the door, the hoodie near the couch along with the cap. Making your way near the stairs and place the pants there, the underwear being placed in front of your shared bedroom with Tom.

When the new clothes are set in place, you enter the bedroom and go straight to your closet. You take out your own set of clothing, but unlike the men’s clothing, it’s a little bit more inappropriate.

It’s simple really. It’s Tom’s favourite silk robe and black lingerie.

Making your way back to the living room, you place the robe next to the shirt, and the lingerie next to the underwear in from of the bedroom.

You feel a bit guilty as you inflate the blow-up doll to finish up the pranks, when your phone vibrates which interrupts your train of thoughts. It’s a text from Tom, saying that they’re on their way home from the pub.

They’re going home earlier than you think, so you hurry up. Leaving the text on read, just like you have for the past week.

Tom’s going to flip when he comes home.

The prank just got 10 times better when you see Tom’s follow up text message saying that the boys will be coming over.

Once the blow-up doll is set, you bring it up with you to the bedroom, setting up your phone to capture Tom’s reaction on the bedside table and clicking record, and getting under the covers with the doll. You’d worn a skin colored spaghetti strapped top so you wouldn’t have to remove your clothes.

Everything’s set. The phone is set up so that some of the bed and the door is caught in the frame.

The pub they went to isn’t far from your apartment. It’s only about 10 minutes away from here so you expect to hear the door unlock anytime now.

Now, from Tom’s perspective, the past week has been hell. You haven’t texted him back on any of his messages, and you barely talked to him. You haven’t given him any attention and it’s killing him.

It’s killing him because he knows it’s mostly his fault.

Though the boys have helped him and comforted him, they still feel bad themselves. So, it’s safe to say that all of them are clueless as to what they should do to make things better.

They’ve prepared themselves for a scolding from you, or an argument, or another week of glares and silent treatments from you.

But none of them expected to see clothes scattered around the floor when they opened the door to the apartment.

Tom’s eyes widen in shock.

“What the fuck!?”

All of them are speechless. They didn’t expect this from you.

Tom turns around and looks at the boys. “Please tell me I'm going crazy.” His breathing becomes uneven, trying to keep the tears from rising.

Sam swallows down the lump in his throat and speaks up. He’s wary about what he says because he doesn’t want to make things any worse.

“Y-You should talk to her.” What else was he supposed to say? He had never been in this type of situation before and he’s absolutely shitting his pants right now.

He turns back around, sitting on the couch and putting his head I his hands. He opens his mouth to speak, but he quickly gets interrupted.

All of the boys stand straighter upon hearing a string of moans from upstairs followed by multiple curse words.

Tom on the other hand, stands up and clenches his fist. He recognizes that voice because it’s yours.

Anger fills him and he dashes upstairs only to find your black lingerie and a pair of men's underwear in front of the bedroom door. He absolutely loses his shit and barges through in, seeing you on top of some random guy with your back facing him.

He runs towards the right side of the bed, yanks you off of the guy and drags you downstairs.

“What the fuck were you thinking?! Why the fuck— How long has this been going on?”

Tom’s gripping your wrist tightly, his voice cracking at the end of his sentence and tears form in his eyes. You feel guilty, really, absolutely guilty. Especially now that your laughing your ass off in front of Tom and the boys.

“Babe—” You keep laughing. Since you can’t talk properly at the moment, you point to your body. Wearing a pair of his sweatpants and a skin coloured spaghetti strap top.

Your boyfriend quickly realizes that this is the first time he’s heard you laugh in a week, and that you’re fully clothed.

While Tom’s trying to process what’s happening, and while the boy’s are still shocked and frozen, you run upstairs.

Grabbing the doll and running back down to the living room, shouting quickly while trying to suppress a laugh. “It’s a prank! It’s a prank, it’s a prank.”

“What the actual fuck Y/N!” Tom shouts as he grabs the doll, throwing it to the ground.

The only response you give him is a raised eyebrow with your hands on your hips as you try your hardest not to smile in entertainment.

Everyone in the room is relieved, but also slightly annoyed.

Without talking, you point to the camera by the T.V, then Harrison starts laughing. The laughter being joined by Harry and Sam.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t find tis funny?!”

“Sorry mate, you got played!” You walk over to Harrison and you high five him. The look of victory is clear on your face.

“Yeah bubs, sorry. You don’t find this funny, right? Well, I didn’t find your prank last week funny either.”

“But those aren’t my clothes Y/N?? If this is actually a prank, whose clothes are those??”

“I bought them today. They’re about to be your clothes if you want. I mean, look at the shoes. You’ve wanted those for months, and you finally have them.”

Slowly, you walk towards him and wrap your arms around his neck. Kissing him and resting your head on his chest. He finally gives in and breathes out a sigh of relief, hugging you back.

“You know I'd never cheat on you, love.”

“I know. Just scared me, is all.”

“You know you deserve it.” You look up at his face, and he giggles. That cute little giggle he has that you absolutely adore.

You turn your head towards the boys, arms still wrapped around Tom. “Sorry I've been distant this past week. It was all of build up.”

“Yeah, we realize that now.” Sam says. “Well, we better leave you alone for now. We’ll be back tomorrow.” Sam ushers the boys out. All of them smirking at the both of you, and Harrison winks before they exit.

When you turn your head back to Tom, he kisses you roughly. His tongue slipping in your mouth easily as you let him take control of the kiss.

“God, I've missed this.” He grunts into the kiss, the camera by the T.V long forgotten.

He pulls away and suddenly puts an arm under your legs, carrying you bridal style up to your bedroom and dropping you on the bed.

Kissing you again as he lays down in between your legs, arms roaming around your body.

He pulls away once again and looks at you. His pupils are blown and he smirks at you then at the phone on the bedside table. He reaches for your phone then shuts off the recording.

Tom turns to look at you again once he’s put the phone down and grins.

“You’re going to regret that little prank of yours, darling.”

——————————————————————

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astraeass · 3 years

Text

[4] start once again;

[cross-posted in ao3 • fem reader]

previous chapter

pairing: levi ackerman/reader

warnings: cursing, violence

words: 4018

Summary:

Erwin assigned your squad a rare inside-the-walls mission. Ending up being successful, you also try to end up successful on warming up your cold behavior.

You currently stood with Mike besides you in front of your captain's door office, who asked for your and some members of your squad assist's for a 'mission' inside the walls. You had no idea of what it could be about, never being apart of these type of unusual assignments that required the help of the Scouts, probably just some dumb shit the Military Police was either not able to do so or simply were too lazy to care of, at least that was Mike told you since he actually went to help Erwin with a pair of them.

"Hey [L/N], you there?" Mike's fingers snapping mere inches away from your face brought you back to reality. You blinked a few times and then looked up to the blond who was growing impatient "Don’t worry too much, you midget. It’s probably the same as always, a little thief that drunk Garrison members can’t get a touch of" Ignoring his little comment about - his enormous height - your height you sighed and nodded. You weren’t worried about that at all, it was just infuriating that the Scouts, the regiment that already has weight upon their shoulders are assigned for simple but annoying tasks that the two remaining regiments couldn’t take care of.

Mike knocked the door and without receiving a answer at all, he just opened the door and stepped inside with all the comfort as if he was the captain himself, you understood though, Erwin and Mike were almost always seen together attached by the hip and your own experiences with them said that they were pretty close. You didn’t like to include yourself, but you trusted both of them plus the members of your squad with your own life.

"Finally both of you came, we were waiting for you" Erwin said after releasing a sigh when he saw both of your forms coming from the door, he already knew it was Mike when he didn’t even had the time to reply the knock in his door, and knowing Mike, he probably brought you with him since you were still as forgetful as always "Take a seat, you’ll know what we’re about talk about, right?"

"Yeah, that infamous mission inside the walls, huh? Isn’t it [Y/N]?" Said Mike with a teasing smirk adorning his lips while nudging your side with his elbow, you were so close to hit his fucking face. Already tensed thanks to your thoughts before about the incompetent military. Erwin arched one of his physically surreal brows and looked up to your still standing form. Seeing how you looked away, Mike decided to annoy you a little bit more.

"Just this little midget who could make a Titan scurry away with her glare is a bit scared of an insignificant mission" He was starting to hit your more impatient nerve but with a deep breath you answered him "First, I’m pretty sure the mission is not insignificant if Captain didn’t ask for half of his squad's help. Second, you can’t call everyone a midget just because you’re a fucking tree and three, I’m not scared!" Your tone got louder for the more you talked, and your face was getting even more red than before. You could have continued if it wasn’t that Erwin were looking at your bickering with Mike in disappointment, so you limited yourself on sitting on a random chair.

"Now that everything is resolved, I’ll explain what are we doing inside the royal capital" Erwin finally was able to start. Bringing what it looked like three pieces of paper, he spattered them on the table so we were able to have a look at them. On the papers, it was written information of three different persons, their physical description, how the currently lived and a large list of antecedents. But what it caught your attention is that all of them were part of the Underground, the city that surrounded the Royal Capital beneath its floor.

You didn’t knew a lot about the Underground, jus a few things you remembered reading from David's various books. Humanity tried to live underground to escape the deadly threat Titans brought, however the exodus was called off and the ruins of the old attempt of humanity's safety is not populated and formed of criminals and vagrants. The deepest sections were now slums, abandoned by the royal government, David told you that even the Military Police were always hesitant to step inside and now you understood everything.

"Are we really doing the MP's dirty job by catching these thieves? That’s pathetic, we have better things to do Captain!" Your anger coming to get you back again made you complain and stand grabbing the end of the table with force. You weren’t someone’s maid to take their shit off by doing jobs like these. Erwin lifted a hand, palm facing your face, making you frown in confusion and growing irritation "You didn’t let me finish, [L/N]" with that, you just sat down again, looking away in embarrassment.

"Yes, we’re catching them, but not for the Military Police's benefits, but for our own" He pointed the three papers that were situated on the table, the sudden sound making you glare at them "We'll tell them that they’ll have to joint the Surver Corps if they want some type of freedom. If they’re refuse, that I doubt, we will turn them over the MPs, that’s all. So read the information in the papers carefully so we can start and end this assignment as fast as possible"

It was a group of three, two males and a young female. Furlan Church, a medium-sized male with dark dirty blond hair and bright grey eyes. The other male, Levi who was rather short is apparently their leader, has short black hair styled in an undercut curtain, pale grey colored orbs and the only female, Isabel Magnolia a young woman with light green eyes and shaggy auburn locks that were usually styled into two pigtails. For what the reports said, all of them were exceptional using the Maneuver Gear, Levi however stood out the most of the three. So that’s why Erwin wanted a bunch of us then.

"As you all know, Shadis' and my request of changing the expedited formation was approved not long ago. We’re planning to use them for the next expedition, so if we capture them soon, they’ll be able to try it out too"

"We’re going to the Underground tomorrow morning, be ready by then" Erwin moved his own orbs to your, deepening his glare "And I don’t want anyone to be late, got it?" Clicking your tongue, you nodded and stared at the floor when you felt his intense glare on you. Tomorrow's gonna be long day

;;

You currently stood - again - besides Mike, however, this time you weren’t in the usual boring walls of the HQ but walking down the dark streets of the Underground. You knew the journey to find those thugs wouldn’t be easy, but didn’t expect to be this complicated. Firstly, you learn that being woman here is not easy, you hated the disgusting looks filthy men were sending your direction. No, of course their glares didn’t scare a woman part of the Survey Corps, but you couldn’t help but imagine how a defenseless young woman could survive down here, and it send chills down your spine.

Then, there’s children literally starving begging for food or even fighting for it, you never heard that living in the Underground was this hard. Sadly you couldn’t help them at all and this for a reason left a feeling of guilt down the pit of your stomach and it didn’t help that the thieves you were supposed to catch could appear in any moment, right now is a perfect situation, when you’re lost in your thoughts.

Just then, a mysterious harsh breeze of wind made you jump in your spot, aggressively interrupting your thoughts and when you looked for what or who provoked the rush of wind inside a closed space like this your eyes widened when you met your objective "[Y/N], I’m pretty sure it’s them! Let’s just chase them with a low profile like Erwin told us, they probably saw them already" Mike said to you with a low tone and you just nodded and followed no far away from him.

They situated theirselves by attaching their 3DMG on the roof of the city and not far behind, you could see that Erwin was already keeping a track. Following Mike's movements, you regrouped with the rest of your squad. You were sure that the group of three already took notice of all of your squad so you just waited for Erwin's orders. About 50 meters separated your squad and the thugs so you weren’t able to hear if they were talking among themselves or not, but their rushed, annoyed looks and frantic mouths moving confirmed that they were planning something out.

Not long after, the shorter male of the group took the lead and attached his hooks to a bridge nearby and flew forwards the bottom part, passing through it with speed followed by his companions. It was impressive, to say at least, but not hard enough to keep the rest of us behind and actually, we were able to be nearer them this time. Once again, the leader this time decided to double back a rock pillar that was in front of us. You deduced they were trying to confirm if all of you were actually Military Polices, since usually your skill levels suppressed theirs.

Suddenly, the group of three separated themselves. Fortunately, Erwin always had a step towards and already assigned each of you other one of the thugs, with yourself chasing after the taller man, Furlan Church. He gave a sharp turn to your right. Erwin looked back to meet your eyes with determination, knowing what it meant, you just nodded and started to chase after the blond thug.

For the next two minutes, he didn’t seem to have the opportunity to escape at all. There wasn’t any type of obstacle that could slow you down and you already could feel the state of irritation coming from his presence when seeing that you kept coming closer. In desperation, he aimed his piston-shot towards a random house you hoped it was inhabited and fired the grapple hooks. You weren’t far behind so it wasn’t difficult to determine what he was about to do from your camp of vision. For the time you rolled inside the house through the glass-less window, the grey-eyed man was the near the other entrance that would lead to his run out.

However, you had other plans for him, and before he could even lift up his arm, you fired your grapple hook to the wall, mere inches away from his face. That apparently startled him and since he wasn’t far away from the other window, he fell backwards the ground outside. You cursed lowly, and ran towards the window looking down when you heard a loud crash downwards and eyes widening by the sight, a messy Furlan laying on heavy looking wood boxes, eyes tightly closed in pain, it seemed that the rammed into them when he fell down. Not wanting to lose this advantage, you quickly stepped down besides him and grabbed his much taller form by the hood hanging from his neck and ready to tie his hands behind his back.

"Ah.. I never expected to be caught like this" you just scoffed, ignoring his comment. When you were sure that the rope was tightly wrapped around his wrists, you forced him to stand up and began walking towards an uncertain direction. Uncertain until you heard various thuds and more crashes that sounded just like the infamous blades resting on your thighs. It wasn’t far away and by Furlan's irritated look, he seemed to recognize the other sounds as well. You just tugged his tied arms forwards and walked where you thought the sounds came from.

Minutes after, without barely blinking since you were keeping eyes open for any movement Furlan could make, you both finally reached the commotion and no far away another woman part of your squad, Lisa, managed to catch the younger girl, Isabel. You both crossed paths and saw that Mike and Erwin, both cornered Levi "Squad leader, are you alright?" You said with a loud to me once both of you were close enough. Erwin looked at our direction and just nodded "Yes. You both did well"

;;

The three thugs were captured, each of them had their wrists tied up with ropes plus sodden cuffs, to maintain their already blocked way to move and obliged to kneel in front of your squad leader. Erwin looked down, expecting o meet their glares, you stood no far away with Mike, in case any of them tried to do something, which right now seemed like impossible "I have some questions to ask you" He lifted the piston-shot of one of the maneuver gears you were able to detach from their bodies and started his interrogation "Where did you get your hands on this?" Silence.

"Your vertical maneuvering skills were excellent. Who thought you?" Erwin’s words meet even more silence, however, in you opinion their glares were more than sufficient. You sweared that if Levi's glare could kill, he really would have done it... for about six times already. Erwin walked towards the latter mentioned, and you certainly worried a bit about his safety "You are the leader, right? Have you ever received military training?" The deadly state of the grey-eyed man just deepened and that seemed that it was enough silence for Erwin, he looked towards Mike who just nodded in affirmation. You knew what he will do, using force is the only way.

Mike grabbed Levi's hair and yanked him towards the filthy floor slamming his face into a puddle of mud in an aggressive manner. His other two friends gasped in surprise, their already hateful gazes just increasing with worry for their friend. Levi just winced a bit and looked up to Erwin once again "I'll ask again. Where did you learn vertical maneuvering?" Silence just covered the ambience, and you noticed how Erwin was losing some of his massive patience, Levi didn’t seem way too well neither.

"We didn’t learn it form anyone! You think we’re gonna let a civil servant push us around?!" Isabel suddenly said. You jumped in surprise and moved from were you stood to walk near Isabel and Furlan, you would expect anything front those two "We figured it out so we could survive in this dump! Anyone who doesn’t know what sewage tastes like couldn’t understand!" You were keeping a somewhat low likeness towards the three of them, but Furlan's words made you remember how these people lived and growled up, how much of the kids starved to death before even thinking of having a childish dream and you felt compassion invading your body for them. Mentally slapping yourself about how heartless you have been, even if you never voiced out loud the thoughts lingering your mind mere seconds ago.

"My name is Erwin Smith. What are your names?" The blonde, satisfied by their answers, tried to ask Levi again, but he didn’t receive something much different. Mike taking the sign and repeated his last actions, this time you felt bad seeing how the raven struggled to catch his breath and how his ego is being broken in front of his own friends and strangers he didn’t want to know about "I applaud your determination. But keep it up, and we’ll move on to your comrades" you knew what you should do now, but still hesitated a bit. With shaky hands, you grabbed Isabel's shaggy hair softly and neared one of your blades into her small neck. You knew that you wouldn’t kill them, but it still left an uneasy feeling.

"If you’re gonna do it, do it!!" The girl exclaimed in anger, making your eyebrows frown, was your compassion that obvious? Was it that obvious to make Isabel risk her life knowing that she’s actually not doing so? Where is your usual cold behavior towards thugs like them? And Levi’s surprised and worried look that you were able to catch from the corner of your eye didn’t help at all however it lasted seconds since he moved his eyes to Erwin, hatred covering his orbs "You bastard..."

"What’s your name?" Erwin tried again. You still didn’t understand why he asked for it, when you remember he was to one that handled all of you their information papers. You just assumed that he wanted to keep a low profile and brushed the thought aside.

"... It’s Levi" His voice still sounded raspy and you could see how kept struggling when catching his breath.

"Levi, would you make a deal with me?"

The man looked up in surprise, eyes widened and confusion adorned his face. It was nice to see a different expression on his sharp features "Deal...?" Erwin nodded and continued with his proposition "I won’t ask about your crimes. In return, you will lend me your strength, and join the survey corps" Levi's confusion turned into a more incredulous one, and somehow, you understood dumbstruck state "If I refuse...?" He asked lowly, probably knowing what Erwin's answer will be "I turn you over the military police. Considering your crimes, I don’t think you or your comrades can expect decent treatment"

"Choose whichever path you wish"

Levi looked at his side, meeting Isabel's and Furlan's determination. His pupils looked up to you, and you felt your body freeze on the spot. He only growled moving his gaze down the puddle of mud with irritation only to meet Erwin back again.

"Very well, I’ll join the Surver Corps"

;;

Tray in hand, you stood in middle of the room. Eyes searching for a certain brunette and they’re usual companion to sit with, but finding no one instead. Alone, you sat in a random empty table, and waited for Hanji and their squad.

It wasn’t that you weren’t fond of your own squad. But as usual, they weren’t there neither. Erwin passing most of his time inside his office or training. Mike whenever the fuck Erwin is at the moment and the rest had more friends they are bonded with.

Hanji Zoë is an enthusiastic person, it was hard to not know or have talked with them. Is like they have a goal to befriend everyone joining the Survey Corps. And at first, you thought you would have never want to have any type of friendship with them since they’re way too loud for liking but look at you, impatiently waiting for their arrival.

Then there’s Moblit Berner who is a total sweetheart. You suppose that he’s a close friend of Hanji, since they spend most of their time time together and neither of them being here eating dinner with you, reinforces that question.

"They’re probably in that closed library where no sunlight hits and lost their control of time... again" you murmured. It wasn’t unusual that you are sitting alone by yourself, your hard capacity to maintain conversations with anyone is enough to make you give up on that. And the little amount of persons that managed to get on your heart are always occupied with someone or something.

You always stood like a sore thumb in any pair you went and spent your ridiculously large amount of free time with. Erwin & Mike, two tall as fuck blue-eyes blondes and then Hanji & Moblit, their conversations always being about trivial topics you barely knew about. However that didn’t mean you didn’t fully enjoy your time with them. Hanji always tried to make you laugh once a day, since 'you won’t be able to show any expressions if you kept having that resting bitch face' and somehow, they succeed every time.

But you really did want to have a larger comfort bubble with a larger amount of friends. You’ve been a scout for several years already, and haven’t found no one as close as your previous mentioned friendships, mayhap two or three acquaintances and a few talks with your squad companions but that’s all. You urged of human communication.

You waited for Hanji and Moblit with your cold and now empty plate under you for nearly an hour, you were growing impatient of the looks some new cadets were giving you since you literally had no reason to stay in the room if you finished your food or maybe is your R.B.F scarier than usual?

You sighed standing up and walked towards the headroom you shared with most of the women, ready to call it a day but stopped when you heard rushed and low voices down the hall. Moving your head slowly to take a peek, the thieves you captured a week ago were standing in the middle of the narrow hall with irritated expressions.

"I’ll go! You’ll probably make a mess if you even think about entering his office"

"Huh?! You’re saying I’m not capable to do so?!"

"..."

"Levi!! Who do you think will do a better job?"

"We don’t even know if that damn paper is there, but-"

"Levi's opinion doesn’t matter here, he’ll probably just say me anyways"

Paper? Office? Are they talking about the Commander’s office? Why would they enter though...?

"Hey! Of course it matters, if I wasn’t here you two would probably rip your heads off"

A silence with a deep breath.

"Furlan’s going"

"Aw, c'mon! I wanted to see if he used a comb to style his brows!"

Not the Commander’s, but Erwin's office

"If I found something like that, I would have told both you, dumbass"

You heard them walking towards your hiding position, so hurriedly you passed in front of them as if you didn’t heard nothing, just in your way to have a deep sleep in your hard as a rock bed.

They easily got startled by your presence, and you couldn’t stop feeling their sharp gaze on you "Everything okay?" You decided to ask, maybe showing a kinder side helps them feel more comfortable.

"Yeah, we just... just got lost!" Isabel said with a nervous grin, still looking stiff thanks to your surprise appearance second ago.

"Ah, really? I know the headquarters from head to toe, I can help you" You answered with sincerity, waiting for them and if they’re willing to ask you.

"Eh, uhm... yeah of co-"

"No, we'll manage" Levi interrupted Isabel's affirmation, irritation starting to form in his expression, narrowing his eyes in suspicion and cold eyes meeting yours. You would have lied if you said you didn’t feel chill down your spine but you just nodded, waved goodbye at them and restarted you walk to your now changed direction.

;;

Furlan huffed, closing the door behind him in a slow movement "Damnit... there’s nothing"

"Nothing?"

The young man standing in front of Erwin's door office jumped in surprise and for you amusement a high pitched shriek. But his scared expression didn’t last long "W-what around you doing here! Wasn’t it enough to make my caught pathetic?"

You just chuckled and smiled at him, Furlan just scoffed, but you were able to see the little light of confusion adorning his light grey-orbs "Shouldn’t I be asking that? Erwin is my squad leader after all" Furlan limited himself to blush in embarrassment after his realization "I just wanted to talk with him, is that wrong?"

"It is not, but you shouldn’t enter his office without permission" and before he could answer you back, you started to talk again "But it’s okay, this happened my first time too, y’know?" Furlan just laughed awkwardly and nodded "haha.. yeah"

"I gotta go but um, if are here to talk to Erwin you should go back" He said turning around and walking out as fast as he could without looking suspicious.

"They’re so awful at hiding it.. maybe asking Erwin to watch their training tomorrow is a good idea"

Next Chapter

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader

14 notes · View notes

getofy · 3 years

Text

matchup: #1 - hq boy w/ an extroverted fem reader!

—a/n: wow im genuinely so sorry for taking so long. literally school is ruining my life and i also um,, haven’t been doing the best this past month. i really hope this makes up for it !! it’s kinda long so my bad...also this is NOT proofread lol i apologize if it sucks aaaa.

DISCLAIMER: while this is a personalized matchup, they’re still headcanons, so basically anyone can enjoy them! :]

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hello @/meremoomoo ! you are so cute and tysm for being patient about ur request. i debated who you would go well with for a while, but in the end i came up with...

SUGAWARA KŌSHI!

#SUGA: “YOU’RE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE!”

#Y/N: “THANK YOU KŌSHI :].”

☆ SUGA IS PERFECT FOR YOU, AND HERE IS WHY—

PERSONALITY TYPE:

suga has a personality type of INFJ, which compliments your ENFP personality type well.

“...you may benefit from perseverance in this relationship. your sensitive, sympathetic nature may at times overtake you, leading you to make decisions that feel right but are not really the wisest option. this person, whose approach seems so cold at times, can help you to tune into your powers of objective reasoning and ensure that you are not letting emotions rule your life.” —some website i found

while INFJs are not the most compatible with ESFPs, your other personality type, wonderful things can still come out of INFJ/ESFP dynamics!

“your differences mean that you actually have a lot to offer one another. your counterpart may inspire you to slow down and think more deeply about the meaning of things, rather than just doing what feels right in the moment. in turn, you can help them to get out of their heads and enjoy life for what it is.” —some website i found

HOW YOU GUYS MET:

sugawara and you did not start off on the right foot at first...

the two of you were in the same class and sat very close to each other so he decided that he really wanted to get to know you.

he also just really likes becoming friends w/ people lol

since you were always laughing loudly with your friends during break time, he deduced that you had a good sense of humor.

he decided that jokes seemed like the right way to get to your heart win you over!

easy enough, right?

wrong.

apparently, he had caught you on a bad day because his attempts to be friendly were not received well. at all.

poor suga.

he does his best to be kind to everybody, but at the same time, he does love to poke fun at others. he probably took one of his jokes too far or something?

or maybe you really were just having a bad day?

who knows.

anyways, after that awkward encounter, he did his best to avoid you.

it’s not that he hated you, it’s just that he thought you hated him. it sort of bummed him out because you seemed cool, but he wanted to be respectful of your feelings!

*sorry it’s not enemies to lovers, but it’s close enough i hope ?

HOW HE DISCOVERED HE LIKED YOU:

the class had finished testing early, so the teacher decided to put on a movie.

AND FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON THE MOVIE WAS OLD YELLER?!!?!?

(basically it’s just an incredibly depressing dog movie. like, if you’ve never seen it then just imagine the saddest movie you’ve ever seen 10x)

anyways, you ended up crying. very loudly.

sugawara was incredibly concerned for you, since you seemed to be genuinely distraught, but he didn’t say anything

eventually, the teacher caught on to your disarray and excused you from the room so you could go calm yourself down.

after some time, the teacher tells suga to go check up on you to make sure ur not dead or whatever lol (you were taking a while).

he was hesitant to do this since he knew you weren’t too fond of him, but suga decides to do it anyways since he didn’t want to be a disobedient student.

he finds you sitting on a bench with tears streaming down your face

and MAN!!

all at once, suga gets this overwhelming urge to make you feel better. but like, as in, he-never-wants-to-see-you-in-this-kind-of-state again-otherwise-he-might-breakdown kind of urse.

despite not being super close to you, he had gotten so used to your large smiles and extroverted demeanor, that watching you cry felt foreign to him.

he missed your smile.

he soon realizes that seeing you upset hurts him because he genuinely cares about your well-being.

so he decides to make it his personal mission to make you smile again.

suga takes the spot next to you voicelesslyand tries his best to talk you through your dismay.

you don’t seem to mind the company, and to his delight you don’t seem to hate him as much as he thought you did!!

suga is very grateful for this

anyways, he manages to cheer you up, and the tips of your lips turn up into a small grin—just like he wanted them to.

AND BOY OH BOY WHEN THEY DO!!

whew this man’s heart skips a BEAT baby and he is lowkey spiraling lol he’s so confused like why is this girl’s smile making me feel some type of way

he had been so focused on what you thought about him, but he had never once stopped to consider what he thought about you (until this very moment, of course).

turns out suga was incredibly fond of you

yeah, that’s how he knew.

suga brain go brr 4 pretti girl

HOW HE CONFESSES:

you two had been hanging out more frequently as of late

and getting to know you was only making suga‘s crush grow EXPONENTIALLY

after many nights spent in long contemplation, he came to the conclusion that it was time to ‘man-up’ and just rip off the band-aid that was being honest about his feelings.

he buys a single flower (tanaka’s advice) and waits by your locker

very very simple and sweet confession typa beat :(

literally SO nervous pls help . he’s scratching the back of his neck and holding the flower out to you with a slight twinge in his cheeks.

“y/n...i know you weren’t too fond of me at first, but i...i don’t know i think we’re great together! and now that we hang out and stuff i was thinking that maybe we could-“

yeah you cut the poor boy off and said yes to put him out of his misery.

literally verbally celebrates when you accept his flower. does a lil victory dance and everything.

ugh yall r so cute.

AFTER HE CONFESSES:

YOU GUYS GET TOGETHER INSTANTLY WOOOOOO

somehow the most wholesome and chaotic couple to ever exist???

you guys spend like every waking moment together it’s adorable

noya and tanaka would jokingly hit on you and suga would pretend to be actually jealous.

i hc him as being a somewhat possessive-y boyfriend so do w that what you will

total best friend kind of lover but he’s also a sweetheart and rlly romantic + respectful abt ur needs:(

y’all r super comfy w each other !!

WHAT HE LOVES ABOUT YOU:

sugawara is usually the kind of person that’s always there for other people so he appreciates the fact that you’re the same way! you guys bond over your shared therapist/mom-friend tendencies, and quickly become the support systems you so desperately needed prior to getting together.

he’s there to listen to you about your problems and vice versa.

he adores how you can meet and sometimes even exceed his energy. it’s a nice change of pace since he usually gets scolded by daichi. </3

thinks it’s cute how much you care for animals! you’ll often find him staring at you in wonder as you pet a random dog on the street lol.

MISC HEADCANONS:

will spend hours on end watching you play video games on FaceTime. after a while, he ended up buying his own console and now you guys play together!

he’s fairly competitive, and will whine whenever you destroy beat him in a game!

he’s so cute pls

one of his favorite things to do after a long day is sit and play slower paced games such as minecraft and animal crossing with you.

whether it’s about your fav historical monument or about a new show you saw, suga will listen to you talk for hours and never get bored. usually he’s always got something to add to the convo though. sometimes you guys get overly excited together and end up speaking over each other in the same way.!

is INCREDIBLE at getting you to calm down?? like, if you ever need to be put in your place, suga knows exactly what to say to do it. does this make sense? lol. you guys have big ying and yang energy sometimes i feel.

you’re his BIGGEST supporter. whenever he’s put into games, you’re always the LOUDEST one cheering him one.

it really touches him to know that you’ll always be there to root for him!! even mr.refreshing gets down sometimes, so it’s incredible to have someone as positive as you by his side constantly reassuring him.

he’s a big animal person as well so you guys like going to volunteer at shelters together!

this was actually your second date HAHA.

if a dog is within a 40 ft radius from y’all, it is almost guaranteed that you guys will sprint to go pet them.

since you’re both athletic, you guys help each other practice sports together! suga’ll throw u soft toss and help you run drills and hype u up before games. & you’ll help him work on his technique and such <33.

y’all totally gossip together wow. you said you were a bit on the meaner side of the spectrum and lowkey he doesn’t mind AT ALL. he lives for it HAHAHAHA.

he literally thinks you’re stunning so it upsets him whenever you get insecure, but he’s always got the right thing to say to cheer you up! genuinely just,,,, so good with his words. if you’re having a bad night, he’s ready to come to your rescue with a gentle smile and funny one-liner and maybe a documentary if you’re lucky enough.

in his eyes, everything about you is beautiful. your hair. your freckles. your body. your laugh. your smile. everything!! he’s going to do whatever it takes for you to love yourself in the same way he loves you.

this man so whipped smh 🙄🙄

tl;dr: suga thinks you hate him. you don’t. you start hanging out. he confesses to you by the lockers. you start dating. you are infinitely better at gaming than he is and will never let him forget it.

YOUR ANTHEMS (in no particular order):

darling by christian leave

pleasantries (with your lover) by mustard service

upside down by jack johnson

sunflower, vol.6 by harry styles

what do you like in me? by nasty cherry

MOODBOARD:

pic 1 | pic 2 | pic 3 | pic 4

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—CONGRATS! YOU’VE WON THE HEART OF ONE OF THE PRETTIEST SETTERS ON THE BLOCK. TREAT HIM WELL! ☆

*do not repost my work without proper credit and my explicit premission

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ill-go-with-that-then · 5 years

Text

A NEW ERASERMIC AU I'LL NEVER WRITE!

Imagine Aizawa works at Buzzfeed, and gets the idea to write an article about how Twitch streaming is stupid and pointless (because he’s a video game snob.) He chooses Present Mic’s channel to watch at random, because he’s super popular, but Aizawa immediately goes from undercover reporter to absolute fan. No middle ground. Just “huh, okay i was wrong” and subscribes.

He tunes in to all the live streams, because Mic is very funny and also very good at video games, and it’s cool to watch him play. He has skills, his commentary is A+, and Aizawa develops a little crush. But it’s not a big deal!! Mic is a celeb, Aizawa knows they’ll never meet, it’s harmless.

Sometimes the chat for the stream gets assholes in it, as you’d expect. Mic can’t monitor the chat too much, but Aizawa has no problems telling jerks where to stick it. And once, after a particularly egregious incident where some moron said something crude about women in gaming and Aizawa ripped him a new asshole, Mic sends him a personal message thanking him and asking him if he wants to be a mod, which of course, he does. He doesn’t know how to reply - this is his big chance to talk to Mic!! So of course he just says “sure” - no further conversation.

Aizawa has, of course, zero personal details on his Twitch account. No info, no icon, his screen name is a random string of numbers, he’s a ghost. The Ron Swanson of video game enthusiasts.

So Aizawa is working at Buzzfeed, living his best life writing articles like “10 Video Game Themed Products You Can’t Live Without” because journalism is in shambles and he drinks to forget, and one day his editor is like “hey, we’re gonna do a feature on Twitch streamers. Everybody is gonna go sit and watch a stream in person and get the behind the scenes info. Here’s a list of people who agreed.” And PRESENT MIC IS ON THE LIST

One of his colleagues reaches for Mic’s info sheet, rolling his eyes and sighing. “I can’t believe these are considered celebrities. Have you ever heard of any of them?”

Aizawa practically slaps the paper out of his hand. “Present Mic is a consummate professional and his content is high-quality and entertaining. I wouldn’t expect you to understand it since it involves technology more current than a compact disc.”

The room goes silent. Nobody’s heard Aizawa say anything nice about... maybe anything? Ever? But his editor, Kayama, pounces immediately. “WELL if you like him so much, Aizawa, that can be your interview!!”

Aizawa panics. On the one hand, he wasn’t going to let anyone else take that assignment. But on the other hand, now he’s going to meet Mic IN PERSON. During a LIVE STREAM. Is he supposed to tell him he’s a fan? Is that tacky? Will his crush be obvious? What if Mic sucks in person?? This is a double edged sword.

He only gets more nervous on the day of the interview. He’s tempted to dress up a little, look his best. Mic is a good-looking guy after all, and he’s always well put together when he streams. And even though Aizawa knows, knows he really doesn’t have a chance, he still doesn’t want to embarrass himself.

BUT he also doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard. That’s not who he is, and dressing up would be admitting to himself that he DOES want something more than a simple interview, even if it’s as little as Mic’s good opinion or positive attention.

He debates too long. While he’s still thinking about it, the alarm on his phone goes off, alerting him that it’s time to leave. He’s still in his pink sweatpants and he hasn’t shaved, and he realizes, just at that moment, that he probably should have tried harder at least for the sake of professionalism. But it’s too late. He has to go.

Mic actually doesn’t live all that far away. Just a short train ride, less than 20 minutes, and Aizawa is standing in front of his nondescript apartment. It’s a little odd - Mic is a very popular streamer, theoretically with income to match, and his style seems flashy. Aizawa had expected something a little more over the top. But this place is simple. Storing that information away for later, he knocks.

“COMING!!” He hears from inside the apartment, followed by the thud of footsteps. Aizawa just has one moment to brace himself because this is it before the door opens and there he is. Present Mic himself, all smiles. “Come in, come in!! You’re from buzzfeed right? Wow, this is so exciting!!” Mic ushers him in the door, taking his jacket and hustling him into a tidy living room before Aizawa can even respond. And of course, when he finally gets himself together enough to say something, the first words out of his mouth are “You’re... tall.”

He wants to smack himself. Yes, Mic is taller than Aizawa had realized from the stream, even a little taller than Aizawa himself. But those are thinking words, not speaking words. Certainly not the first words you use to introduce yourself to your celebrity crush. But Aizawa, a champion moment-ruiner, has made his bed, and now he must cry in it.

But Mic just laughs. “Yeah,” he says, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “I get that a lot. Sorry?”

“Don’t apologize,” Aizawa says immediately, then wonders if he is, in fact, under some sort of curse. “Shouta Aizawa,” he introduces himself.

“Hizashi Yamada, also known as Present Mic!” Yamada’s smile is friendly, like Aizawa hasn’t made an absolute fool of himself so far, and Aizawa has to look away from it. He glances around the room, which is tidy and clean, but cluttered with various objects that seem to have no connection to each other. There are books in a variety of languages, musical instruments, shelves of CDs, and an assortment of other things that have nothing to do with video games.

“Quite a collection you have,” Aizawa says, because it is, and because he’s curious.

“Yeah! I have too many hobbies but what can you do? Come on, I’m sure you’d rather see my workspace.” It’s not true, Aizawa has seen the office where Yamada streams before, and he’d much rather stay here and poke around, build up his mental picture about who Yamada is outside his Present Mic persona. But he’s not here for that. This is business.

But the streaming room is also not what Aizawa expects. Some things are familiar - the area visible to the camera is the same, set up and ready for tonight’s stream, but the rest of the room, the part that isn’t on screen, is PACKED. There’s a wobbly desk in the corner, covered in neatly stacked papers and binders labeled by month and year. The wall over the desk is a massive whiteboard filled with notes and ideas for upcoming streams. And there, in the lower right corner of the whiteboard, right where it would be even with Hizashi’s eyes as he sits at his desk, is a familiar string of numbers - his own Twitch username. And next to it is a little note - don’t forget. Good dude.

Aizawa sees his username and just - freezes. It hadn’t occurred to him that Mic thought of him at all outside of that one occasion he DM’d him, let alone that he considered Aizawa important enough not to forget. And the idea that Mic thinks he’s a “good dude” makes his face BURN in pleased embarrassment. He wants to say something but what? Is it weird? It’s weird, it’s too weird, and before he can think of how to do it, Mic is talking again.

“Okay, this is where the magic happens!! Actually, it’s more like weeks of frustration and repetition followed by 3-4 hours of intensely stressful streaming, but hey! People seem to like it!!” Aizawa wants to say something here - Mic is being a little too self-deprecating for his taste, but he stops himself. He can’t defend Mic’s honor to Mic himself - can he? The moment passes while he debates.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to be on camera or not?” Mic says, tentatively.

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” says Aizawa. “I’m more the behind the scenes type.”

“Totally, no problem!” Mic says, gesturing to his desk. “You can sit there, if that’s okay? The only other seat is by me.”

Aizawa looks at the chair, then back to the small couch where Mic will be streaming from. “I think I’ll have to be closer to get photos for the article, if that’s all right.”

“You’ll be on camera,” Mic bites his lip. “I mean, maybe i could re-angle it, but then the screen-“

“It’s fine,” Aizawa says. “Journalism is about hardship.”

Mic snorts, and Aizawa can’t keep a little smirk off his face, proud that he got a laugh.

The stream goes smoothly - Aizawa likes it even more like this, without the chat to distract him, and close enough to notice things he’s never seen before. Mic’s feet twitch when he’s focusing hard, and his socks have cats on them. It’s adorable. Aizawa takes no notes - he doesn’t really need to, he’s seen enough streams to write this article in his sleep, and anyway, it’s not like he’s going to forget a minute of this.

Afterwards, once they’ve signed off, Mic talks him through his post show routine, everything from calculating how much he made and comparing it to previous weeks in a spreadsheet to going over the chat. “Huh,” Mic’s eyebrows crease as he looks at the chat logs. “Things got a little out of hand tonight.”

“Oh?” Aizawa says, shuffling uncomfortably. He suspects he knows why that is.

“Yeah, one of my regular mods wasn’t on tonight. I hope he’s all right - it’s not like him to miss.”

“You have a lot of viewers,” Aizawa says, tentative now. “Do you know them all so well?”

Mic shrugs, embarrassed. “No, i wish I did! But this guy’s special, he’s really funny and he keeps all the trolls in line. I’d DM him to see if he’s okay but that’s weird, right? That’s weird. And anyway I tried to talk to him once before but he shot me down.”

“I didn’t-“ Aizawa says before he can stop himself. The curse is real. Mic stares at him, open mouthed, confused at first but then his eyes widen as he realizes what must have happened. Before he can say anything, Aizawa cuts him off. “Sorry. That i couldn’t mod tonight.” He mumbles, hand buried in his hair. He can’t meet Mic’s eyes anymore. “I’ll be back next week.”

Mic opens his mouth to speak, but Aizawa interrupts again, before he can. “And I didn’t - I didn’t shoot you down. I just didn’t think you’d want to talk to me. Why would you?”

Mic blinks, and Aizawa isn’t sure what he’s going to say. Will he be mad? Aizawa kind of lied to him. Is he disappointed? Does Aizawa not look like he expected? Has he been too silent? Too unfriendly? Does Mic not want to get to know him anymore? But when Mic finally speaks, what comes out is

“I can’t believe you made me memorize that stupid fucking username, we’re picking you a new one right now.”

#erasermic #maizawa #my writing #my ramblings #I have no explanation for anything I do ever

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trustsalvatorewriting · 4 years

Text

wasteland, baby! | kol mikaelson - chapter twelve

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 2,288

❝ what does one do with life when one expected to be dead ❞

"HOW DOES IT FEEL? To be alive, after all these years." Kol asked, eyes barely meeting Aniya's as they sat on a park bench. They had agreed to spend the day watching for strangers, any person that wouldn't mind having a sprinkle of amnesia in their lives. After a while the silence had gone deafening, and Kol decided to speak.

Aniya looked back at him, somewhat shocked that he had bothered to ask about her condition. She shifted in her seat. "Truth be told, I do not know what to do with the life I hold in my hands. It's as if someone has handed me the moon."

"Didn't you ask for this? To be immortal?"

"No. My father did." She said, looking down at her hands. She and Vihaan had questioned his beliefs once, and only once. It was the day that their father held their hands over a fire, and asked who would save them if not the gods. "And what of you? How did Esther create the spell that turned you into vampires?"

"She didn't create it. She found it, after Henrik was attacked by the wolves one night." He'd said it so casually, it might have gone over the average person's head; but Aniya had known him all his life. "Mother dearest murdered my ability to practice magic that night. About a decade ago, she stuck me in the body of a witch, but I was promptly killed by Finn shortly thereafter. Such a shame. The body was quite handsome."

He paused, then added, "Of course, not quite as handsome as me. But it did do the job."

She lifted an eyebrow slightly. "You would give your immortality to be a witch again?"

"You may have given your life for immortality, but I never wanted this. I was perfectly fine dying at the fine age of thirty years old," He sent her a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back to the humans walking in front of them. Across the street, an old man and his wife, wrinkly and discolored, hair the color of salt and pepper.

"It is a wonder how humans learned to live so long. Perhaps my father wouldn't have forced us to into those rituals if he knew humans could become so... weathered."

Kol laughed then, and Aniya found herself smiling at the newspaper Kol had set down on their laps. After a moment, he asked, "You truly can't read?"

"I've learned a bit," She admitted. Henry had helped her, using a few pictures books he'd created and never published. Elijah had repeatedly offered her private tutors, but the situation had never been ideal. Even compelled humans would ask questions eventually, and there was something discomforting about allowing a stranger to see her weaknesses. She'd been a gifted witch once, a prodigy; and she had lost to something as simple as American tongue. "I do miss runes though."

"You'd be the only one," Kol responded. She narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance, and he simply shot her a smile. He turned his attention to the humans. "So, we've sat here long enough. Who will we put out of their misery and erase twenty years worth of memories?"

"How about one of the weathered ones?" She suggested. "They've been alive quite long. Surely they won't miss a decade or two."

Aniya had given eighteen years of her life to a set of rituals. Given her life for the sake of her parents. A few memories in exchange for a taste of her old life -- it was a small price to pay. Regardless, humans were never meant to live so long. They were in pain now, surely. Growing weak and inching closer to Death with each passing moment. To walk the streets and see the youth, see all they had lost.

Perhaps she would be putting them out of their misery. Granting them the ability to forget all they would never have again.

She stood from the bench and made her way towards an elderly man only a few feet away. Kol leaned back and watched the girl smile brightly, encapsulating the man in a short conversation about passing birds.

"I can't remember the last time I'd seen a creature so beautiful." She knelt down, though the bird hopped a few steps away. Her brown eyes dimmed for a moment, and Kol felt a heavy weight on his chest as he watched the little bird move away from her. As if it were repulsed.

"Yes," the old man nodded in agreement. His voice was aged, in a way that even Kol found himself pitying him. "Your generation is so glued to those phones. Rarely even feed the birds anymore."

"My generation," Aniya squinted her eyes. She was very much his elder, and Henry had tried to show her how to use a phone only a few days ago. Unfortunately, the very concept had gone over her head. "Yes. I agree. My brother, though, he used to care dearly for these creatures. Often found him climbing trees and feeding them leftover scraps."

She spoke fondly of her brother. It was hard not to. No one had a heart quite as big as his. No one dared to. The world was never made for one as beautiful as him, and yet there she stood, desperate to gain her strength and revive him.

"What was his name?"

Aniya hesitated. Her mother had always said names carried power. "Victor. My name is Annie."

"It suits you," He commented. The man's blue eyes sparkled with kindness, and she felt her stomach drop. "I hope he takes care of you."

"You needn't worry. My brother was quite the protector," She shrugged off his comment, eyes quickly shifting to the street in front of her. She pushed herself off the ground and focused her eyes on a nearby lamppost. "And what of you? Do you have family? People that care for you?"

"My wife, Betty. She cared dearly for me," The old man chuckled. He pulled out a small leather rectangle, and Aniya lifted an eyebrow at the gesture. Carefully, he unfolded it and revealed a black and white photo of a young couple. A blonde woman with molded curls and a young man beside him, in a perfectly tailored suit.

The man slipped the photo out and turned it around. At the bottom right corner was a jumble of letters. Aniya leaned forward to see the lettering, and after a few moments, the man said, "Betty and Edwin. Our wedding in the fifties."

Aniya's faced soured and she looked away, as if she'd just tasted something terrible. From across the street, Kol lifted an eyebrow. She took a breath. "Where is she now?"

"Died of long cancer twenty years ago. I miss her everyday." He said, his voice tainted with nostalgia. Aniya bit the inside of her cheek, a pit in her chest crawling up her throat. Edwin carefully tucked the photo back into his wallet.

"And you love her to this day? Your love for her, it never died?"

"In my experience, love never dies."

"How do you love someone you're sure you'll never have again? How can you bring yourself to love something so unbearable?" Surely he would give in. Surely he could bring himself to forget her. How much she would give in return for amnesia. In another world, she might've belonged to Henry and Henry alone.

Edwin shrugged. "I'll see her again. It's only a matter of time."

It was then that she felt something snap. A switch in her mind, flipped, and exchanged for something much colder. Ice rushed through her veins as she stared at the man, and her mind was made up.

Kol would one day see his Davina once more. Edwin would see Betty, and the world would continue to spin, as she stood paralyzed and alone. Even Henry would leave her eventually. She had only one insurance, one promise that would never leave her: Vihaan.

"I truly am sorry." Aniya placed a hand on the man's shoulder and whispered a spell beneath her breath. The man's eyes glazed over, and static ran through her veins. She took a step back and raised an eyebrow, ignoring the sense of euphoria that overwhelmed her. "Raise your left hand."

He obliged.

"Drop it. Raise your right hand."

He obliged. She had control of him.

"Give me your wallet. Go to Lafayette Cemetary and ask for Keres." The man, stripped of his willpower and sense of self-control, handed her the small leather object and walked away in a daze. Aniya swallowed and shoved the rectangle into her pocket. To her left, she felt a slight breeze, and Kol stood by her side.

Kol watched the man wander away, a brow lifted as Aniya gulped. "You hesitated."

"I'm ripping away an innocent man's free will because we made the mistake of getting married. My apologies if I'm not all that ecstatic about our situation," Aniya muttered. She huffed, shutting her eyes tightly as she turned on her heel.

"Well, lucky for you, we only need two more. I found a poor bastard in the cemetery last night. I'm sure no one will notice he's gone," Kol announces proudly, hot on Aniya's trail as she walked away from him.

"We shouldn't be preying on the innocent, Kol. Especially not men who are mourning their loved ones!"

Kol huffed and sped in front of her, raising his hands to stop her from crossing him. She sent him a warning look, and he sighed. "This one deserves death. Trust me."

She had been given no reason to trust him. In the weeks since she had come back, not once had Kol given her proof that he was worthy of it. Frankly, he's gone lengths to prove the opposite; but somehow, as she stared into his aged, tired eyes, she found herself wanting to believe him.

And so, she nodded, for once giving into his antics. "All right. I suppose we'll just have to find a few more and send them to Keres. I'm sure it won't be that much trouble."

Regardless, she couldn't seem to ignore the heaviness of her chest �� the guilt she carried, knowing she had just sent a man to be stripped of his free will. Her parents had tried desperately to rip her of these emotions, trained her to see human lives as game pieces. Ones that she would have to dispose of once they no longer suited her. Her father had told her to embrace the electricity that ran through her veins when she practiced dark magic, but what was meant to surge of power had become nothing but a parasite. This power had turned her into nothing but a monster.

"Kol?"

"Yes?"

"What did your siblings and father exchange for immortality?"

He stopped walking then, his feet glued to the sidewalk. For a moment, his amusement faded, but it was quickly hidden away with a smirk. It occurred to Aniya that she might have hit a nerve. "I'm a vampire, darling. Haven't you caught up on the mythology yet? Watched a few scenes from Twilight? I've heard Robert Pattinson is quite dashing."

"Well, yes, but I'd like to see the truth. I'm not sure how much of that I'm going to find in pop culture." She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step toward him, looking up at his aged, tired eyes. "Show me."

"You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you," He murmured. He sighed then, leaning back against a nearby lamppost. Aniya came closer as he shut his eyes, and black veins crawled from beneath his eyes down to his cheeks. His eyes opened, revealing a pair of blackened irises and red, irritated scieras. Kol bared his teeth, displaying his sharpened fangs. When Aniya didn't flinch, the monstrous features crawled back into hiding, and Kol's curious face remained.

Then, she smiled, almost satisfied with her discovery.

"Was there any particular reason you wanted to see that, or were you just exhausted from staring at my gorgeous face for so long?"

"Is this typically how you flirt with women in the twenty-first century?"

Kol shrugged then, straightening his back and heading back in the direction of the Abattoir. Jealousy seemed to spike at Aniya's chest, as she walked a few paces behind him. How wonderful it must have been to be loved by something that hates all else. To be loved by what was perceived to be a monster.

She pulled the wallet out of her pocket, running her fingers over the faded photograph. She wondered to herself what might have happened if the Hollow has awoken Vihaan, as opposed to her. He might have been stronger. More willing to sacrifice the lives of several humans in exchange for the life he once had; but then, she wondered if he would have been more willing to give up on a marriage that had so clearly died. He would have been willing to sacrifice it all to ensure that she was back on Earth.

"I'd like to have this mission finished by the end of the night," Aniya revealed, her fingers tugging at the ring around her neck. "We'll find the nearest elderly person, and send them to the cemetery. You'll have your memories returned by midnight, and I'll have the evening to myself."

"You're going to see your human."

"Is that so bad?"

He hesitated. "I suppose not."

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