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helpistolethesecharacters · 3 years

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Love Conquers All

Zuko x Male Reader

Word Count: 1856

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Y/n could understand where Zuko was coming from, but he knew he wouldn't be surprised if it didn't go as well as he had perhaps envisioned.

It was all very well and good that he had finally found his way, but he had hurt the Avatars group a fair bit before finding his way. Y/n also knew that as someone who had been a part of Zuko's attempts to hurt them, he had no leg to stand on in helping smooth the situation over. He hadn't been as single-minded in his focus on capturing the Avatar, but he had only cared because Zuko cared.

He didn't think that would matter to them, but then, Y/n didn't particularly care one way or the other how they felt about him. The only person who mattered to him was Zuko. Well, and Iroh, but that was a given of anyone who had met the calm old man.

When they made it to the kids campsite Y/n hung back, staying by the exit. It wasn't that he didn't trust them not to ambush him and Zuko, oh wait, it was that. Never mind.

Y/n watched the exchange carefully. He could feel it in the air mere seconds before she struck.

Faster than their eyes could follow, Y/n moved. By the time that everyone had caught up with the events, Y/n was standing in front of Zuko, sheathing his sword after having deflected Katara's water whip.

Silence reigned for a single heartbeat. Then Katara shrieked in outrage.

"How dare you!"

Y/n was sure she was still speaking, but he had a habit of being selectively deaf when it most benefited him.

And then, with almost no warning she was throwing water at him with increasingly wild movements.

It was no match for Y/n's technique.

It wasn't common knowledge, in fact, he had hidden it for most of his life, but Y/n was an airbender.

Yeah, literally the biggest lie in their world was that there were no more airbenders. The Air Nomads had had the practice of removing non-benders from their society and giving them to the other kingdoms.

What they didn't know was that all it took was for the right circumstances to happen and suddenly you had airbenders in the descendants of those non-benders.

It didn't change much ultimately, they were so few that they wouldn't ever be considered a threat to anyone, not that the Air Nomads had been when the Fire Nation had attacked them a hundred years ago.

What it all came down to, was a confused child suddenly developing powers that no one was able to control anymore.

Luckily for Y/n, the only person who had been around the first time he had bended was Zuko. As secrets tend to do, it had bound the two closer together than anyone would have thought ever since that day.

It was a loyalty that had seen Y/n stowing away on the ship Zuko had been banished on, and one that had been returned by Zuko had never once considered that the apparently Fire Nation child could be the reborn Avatar.

What it came down to, was that Katara was having no luck besting Y/n. Much as he wanted to put her in her place properly, Y/n knew that what they were trying to accomplish here would be hurt by that. From the looks of things though, they might have lost that chance.

Y/n stayed on the defensive, letting her tire herself out instead of outright attacking. He was worried about the look the Avatar was giving him though. That wide eyed expression couldn't mean anything good for his secret. He had always known that it would come out eventually, but he had hoped it would last longer than this dammit!

"Katara stop!"

The kid was trying to get in between then now, but the water tribe girl was apparently past the point of caring. She was just not backing down.

"Wait, I wanna talk to him!"

"No! They need to get out of here and never come back!"

Y/n was sure that her words might have been more intimidating if she weren't so clearly out of her league. He decided to ignore the voice in the back of his head that whispered that if he had used even half of his abilities properly before this they might have caught the Avatar long ago.

The element of surprise couldn't be taken for granted after all, and judging from the kid's reaction just now, all they would have had to do was show him Y/n's powers and he probably would have stayed on the ship that first day.

Y/n pulled himself out of his thoughts with a shrug. It was a bit late for that right now.

The Avatar had managed to get between Y/n and Katara, and seemed to be trying to talk her down from her rage. Y/n watched, only mildly interested. This wasn't how he had thought today would go.

He turned to Zuko, who was still standing behind him.

"Are you okay?"

He just looked Y/n over, head to toe looking for injuries.

"I'm fine, but are you sure it was a good idea to show them that? I could have taken a few hits. I've had worse before, you know that."

Y/n clenched his jaw at the reminder.

"I know. I'm sorry. You know how I feel about you willingly putting yourself in danger though. You didn't even try to defend yourself. Don't think I didn't spot that."

Y/n leveled a flat stare at Zuko.

He at least had the good grace to blush in shame and hide behind his fringe.

Y/n turned back to the group of kids gathered in front of them.

He gave them his best blank stare. He had nothing more to say to them, this was about Zuko teaching the Avatar firebending after all.

Besides, he was sure that anything he said would be twisted around and spat back at him by the water tribe girl.

"You're an airbender!"

Y/n refused to give up his secret that easily.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The little blind girl perked up.

"You're lying. You are an airbender? I thought they were all wiped out."

Y/n stubbornly refused to respond. He could see the water tribe girl's eye narrow at his silence. She was just about to explode on him again when Y/n felt a shift in the air. Less than a second later he felt Zuko's hand on his shoulder.

He slumped slightly. Damn Zuko's soft heart.

"Yes. I can bend air."

The shout of pure joy that the Avatar let out was enough to make Y/n feel slightly guilty about keeping it from him the whole time he had been after him.

"I'm not alone! There must be more, right? Some of the monks survived and hid right? Please tell me!"

Man, this kid was excitable, and as happy as he was, Y/n didn't want to be the one to tell him that he was wrong. He couldn't take the soft option of letting Zuko tell him though, they would probably turn on the both of them and Zuko wouldn't be able to fulfill his destiny.

"No."

"No you're not going to tell him?"

That girl was really starting to get on Y/n's nerves.

"No, they didn't survive."

That shut her up.

It also made the kid tear up, but there was no point building a lie just to make him feel better in this moment. That would be more cruel than the truth.

"The only reason that I exist right now is because of your ancestors though. Your people had a practice of testing their babies for airbending potential."

The Avatar was nodding along. Good, this wouldn't be a surprise to him.

"Well, when they showed to be non-benders your people gave them away. They were sent off to the other kingdoms, not welcome in, nor considered to be, a part of the Air Nomads."

"Air Nomads are airbenders, so if they aren't airbenders they aren't Air Nomads. That's just the way things are."

Y/n grit his teeth. It was an old hurt, but it still stung. He pulled in a deep breath and the only thing that stopped him from screaming about the injustice of it all was Zuko's hand that was still on his shoulder lending him the strength to continue.

"Your people were wrong. Occasionally their methods would be wrong, and they would let a bender slip away into another kingdom. But more than that, its in our blood, in the thing that makes us who we are. When enough of your ancestors were born from the Air Nomads, no matter whether they could bend themselves or not, you have the possibility to end up as a bender."

The Avatar's jaw was hanging open as he stared in horror at Y/n.

"But, they couldn't possibly have known that! If they had, maybe they wouldn't have done what they did."

Y/n's eyes shone with a dark light. This was something he would ultimately have to give up, but it was worth planting the seed if he could.

"So your saying that the only possible use non-benders have is the possibility of benders being born from them?"

The Avatar stopped cold and stared at Y/n in horror.

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Then what? You had no problem with the idea that they would be thrown away like yesterday's garbage up until now. The only thing that's changed is this piece of information."

Y/n pulled back as he saw the tears form in the Avatar's eyes.

"Think on that for a while. You have a non-bender in your group. Do you consider him to be useless?"

The kids all looked like they had been hit over the head.

Y/n was sure that this would be the end of their interaction for the day.

"We'll come back tomorrow. Maybe then we can talk without resorting to violence."

He turned back to Katara who looked like she was getting ready to unleash whatever thoughts had been happening in that head of hers.

"Before you put your foot in it, consider this. We have two things you want. One you desperately need, the other, something you desperately want. Have a good night."

Zuko turned and walked back the way they had come, with Y/n bringing up the rear. He didn't trust them not to attack them from behind.

Y/n hoped that with the reminder that they needed Zuko to teach the Avatar firebending, they would be more open to meeting the next day. If that weren't enough, then there was the added bonus of Y/n being the only other airbender that they knew. He was sure that the Avatar wouldn't be able to resist the pull to be around someone who was like him for long.

Either way, they still had a long way to go to convince them that they didn't want to hurt them and that this wasn't a trap.

'Oh well,' Y/n thought as he lay sleepily beside their fire, 'things always look better in the morning.'

#Zuko x Male Reader #Atla #avatar the last airbender #male reader

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idreamtofmanderleyagain · 3 years

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Hot takes about Severus Snape are a wierdly decent glimpse into how a person with progressive values analyses things. Literally every time someone talks about Snape, it’s like this tiny window into how one-dimentionally people actually think.

Recently saw a twitter post that was a fantastic example. Here’s how it goes (paraphrasing):

Person A:“Snape is POC and Queer coded, that’s why you guy’s hate him uwu lol.”

Person B: “Actually I hate him because he was mean and abusive to children under his care uwu but go off I guess lol”

Both of these takes are designed to be dramatic and/or reactionary. They each use partial truths to paint very broad strokes. These are get-em-in-one-hit quips. This is virtue signalling, if you’ll excuse that loaded phrase. Nobody had a substantial conversation, but now everyone who sees their statement knows the high ground they took.

At least a hundred other people chimed in to add their own little quippy hot takes into play, none of which add anything significant, but clearly made everyone feel very highly of themselves.

So many layers of nuance and complex analysis is completely lost in this kind of discussion. On tumblr, you get more of this kind of bullshit, but you don’t have a word count limit, so you guys just spew endless mountains of weak overblown evidence backing up your bullshit arguments, none of which was really about engaging in a real conversation anyway.

Here’s the thing about Snape.

He is a childhood domestic abuse victim. His abuser is a muggle.

He becomes a student at a magical school that takes him away from his abuser and immediately instills in him the idea that being a part of this magical world is a badge of self-worth, empowerment, and provides safety and security - provided that he keeps in line.

There is a war is being waged in that world over his right to exist (he is a half blood).

He is a marginalized person within the context of the narrative, forced to constantly be in the same living space as the children of his own oppressors who are being groomed and recruited into a hate group militia (the pureblood slytherins). They are in turn trying to do the same to him.

He is marginalized person bullied by children who are also part of his oppressor group, but who have “more liberal” leanings and aren’t direct about why he’s being targeted (the mauraders are all purebloods, Sirius, who was the worst offender, was raised in a bigoted household, the same one that produced Bellatrix.).

He had a crush on a girl who is a muggleborn, and therefore she is considered even lesser than him and carries a stigma to those who associate with her. That girl was his only real friend. In his entire life.

For both Snape and Lily, allying themselves to a pureblood clique within their own houses would be a great way of shielding themselves from a measure of the bigotry they were probably facing. There would have been obvious pressure from those cliques to disconnect with one and other.

Every other person who associates with Snape in his adulthood carries some sort of sociopolitical or workplace (or hate cult) baggage with their association. Some of them will physically harm and/or kill him if he steps out of line. He hasn’t at any point had the right environment to heal and adjust from these childhood experiences. Even his relationship with Dumbledore is charged with constant baggage, including the purebloods who almost killed him during their bullying getting a slap on the wrist, the werewolf that almost killed him as a child being placed in an authority position over new children, etc. Dumbledore is canonically manipulative no matter his good qualities, and he has literally been manipulating Snape for years in order to cultivate a necessary asset in the war.

He is a person who is not in the stable mental state necessary to be teaching children, whom has been forced to teach children. While also playing the role of double agent against the hate group militia, the one that will literally torture you for mistakes or backtalk or just for fun. The one that will torture and kill him if he makes one wrong move.

Is the math clicking yet? From all of this, it’s not difficult to see how everything shitty about Snape was cultivated for him by his environment. Snape was not given great options. Snape made amazingly awful choices, and also some amazingly difficult, courageous ones. Snape was ultimately a human who had an extremely bad life, in which his options were incredibly grim and limited.

In fact, pretty much every point people make about how shitty Snape is as a person makes 100% logical sense as something that would emerge from how he was treated. Some if it he’s kind of right about, some of it is the inevitable reality of suffering, and some of it is part of the cycle of abuse and harm.

Even Snape’s emotional obsession with Lily makes logical sense when you have the perspective that he literally has no substantial positive experiences with other human beings that we know of, and he has an extreme, soul destroying guilt complex over her death. Calling him an Incel mysoginist nice guy projects a real-world political ideology and behavior that does not really apply to the context of what happened to him and her.

Even Snape’s specific little acts of cruelty to certain students is a reflection of his own life experiences. He identifies with Neville; more specifically, he identifies his own percieved emotional weaknesses in his childhood in Neville. There’s a very sad reason there why he feels the urge to be so harsh.

Snape very clearly hates himself, in a world where everyone else hates him, too. Imagine that, for a second. Imagine total internal and external hatred, an yearning for just a little bit of true connection. For years. Imagine then also trying to save that world, even if it’s motivated by guilt. Even if nobody ever knows you did it and you expect to die a miserable death alone.

There are more elements here to consider, including the way Rowling described his looks (there may be something in there re: ugliness and swarthy stereotyping). These are just the things that stand out the most prominently to me.

J.K. Rowling is clearly also not reliable as an imparter of moral or sociopolitical philosophies. I don’t feel that her grasp of minority experiences is a solid one, considering how she picks and chooses who is acceptable and who is a threat.

All of that said, this is a logically consistent character arc. Within the context of his narrative, Snape is a marginalized person with severe PTSD and emotional instability issues who has absolutely no room available to him for self-improvement or healing, and never really has. And yes, he’s also mean, and caustic, and verbally abusive to the students. He’s also a completey miserable, lonely person.

There are elements in his character arc that mirror real world experiences quite well. If nothing else, Rowling is enough of an emotional adult to recognise these kinds of things and portray something that feels authentic.

In my opinion, it’s not appropriate to whittle all this down by comparing him directly to the real world experiences of marginalized groups - at least if you are not a part of the group you are comparing him to. There have been many individuals who have compared his arc to their own personal experiences of marginalization, and that is valid. But generally speaking, comparing a white straight dude to people who are not that can often be pretty offensive. This is not a valuable way to discuss either subject.

Also, I believe that while it’s perfectly okay to not like Snape as a character, many of the people who act like Person B are carrying Harry’s childhood POV about Snape in their hearts well into their own adulthood. And if nothing else, Rowling was attempting to say something here about how our perspectives (should) grow and change as we emotionally mature. She doesn’t have to be a good person herself to have expressed something true about the world in this instance, and since this story is a part of our popular culture, people have a right to feel whatever way they do about this story and it’s characters.

The complexity of this particular snapshot of fictionalized marginalization, and what it reveals about the human experience, cannot be reduced down to “he’s an abuser so he’s not worth anyone’s time/you are bad for liking him.”

And to be honest, I think that it reveals a lot about many of us in progressive spaces, particularly those of us who less marginalized but very loud about our values, that we refuse to engage with these complexities in leu of totally condemning him. Particularly because a lot of the elements I listed above are indeed reflected in real world examples of people who have experienced marginalization and thus had to deal with the resulting emotional damage, an mental illness, and behavior troubles, and bad decisions. Our inability to address the full scope of this may be a good reflection of how we are handling the complexity of real world examples.

Real people are not perfect angels in their victimhood. They are just humans who are victims, and we all have the capacity to be cruel and abusive in a world where we have been given cruelty and abuse. This is just a part of existing. If you cannot sympathise with that, or at least grasp it and aknowledge it and respect the people who are emotionally drawn to a character who refects that, then you may be telling on yourself to be honest.

To be honest, this is especially true if you hate Snape but just really, really love the Mauraduers. You have a right to those feelings, but if you are moralizing this and judging others for liking Snape, you’ve confessed to something about how you’ve mentally constructed your personal values in a way I don’t think you’ve fully grasped yet.

I have a hard time imagining a mindset where a story like Snape’s does not move one to empathy and vicarious grief, if I’m honest. I feel like some people really just cannot be bothered to imagine themselves in other people’s shoes, feeling what they feel and living like they live. I struggle to trust the social politics of people who show these kinds of colors, tbh.

But maybe that’s just me.

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gnocchighoul · 4 years

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The boys (+undateables?) reactions when they discover MC is actually a vampire?

....so I’m a dingus and didn’t realize that this was also for the undateables and just wrote it for the brothers, my bad 😅 Part two maybe? 👀

WARNING: as this is about vampires, it’s a little bit morbid. I strayed away from being too graphic, but y’know. Vampires. There’s death and blood and such.

Enjoy! :D

Lucifer

In hindsight, he really should have figured it out on his own.

But it’s not like he’s been around enough humans lately to know what Normal human behavior is.

So he just kinda took your... quirks at face value.

So what if you’re far too comfortable with the Devildom’s constant state of nighttime? Solomon doesn’t seem to mind it either, so maybe humans are just more nocturnal now.

And perhaps your Very Strong aversion to garlic is a little odd, but Mammon wouldn't eat it either for the first 600 years of his life, so it’s not that weird.

You’re also not phased by constantly being surrounded by demons and monsters, which is a little strange, but maybe you’re just like the ancient greeks. A monster fucker.

You feeling right at home in the Devildom is auspicious for the exchange program, so he doesn’t bother dwelling on it.

Though maybe he does find it a little bit weird when you really insist that he start drinking cranberry juice.

(It’s just for health benefits of course, totally has nothing to do with you prepping your next meal)

So what, you may ask, triggers his big lightbulb moment?

You fall off the roof.

And you just get right back up.

Now he knows that humans aren’t supposed to be THAT durable, so he stops you from scaling the side of the fucking house with your bare hands, and very eloquently asks you, “What the fuck?”

You shake him off. “What? Mammon and I are playing roof-ball.”

Lucifer stares. “You fell. I saw how hard you hit the ground. You should be dead.”

You laugh. “Dead? Just from a little fall like that? Are you serio-ohhh wait. You don’t know, do you?”

You give him your biggest, cheesiest grin and—oh.

Fangs.

...And now he understands why you want him to drink cranberry juice.

Mammon

You are, by far, the weirdest human he’s ever met.

Which is saying something, because Solomon is literally just a few blocks away.

Seriously, despite camping out in your room nearly every single night, Mammon has never seen you sleep, he’s pretty fucking sure that sometimes you don’t even breathe, you won’t step foot into the House of Lamentation unless someone invites you in, and who the hell hates garlic that much??

But you’ve also expressed your intense dislike for crosses, so he supposes that you’re not unredeemable.

Just weird.

But it’s incredibly annoying how you wont sleep. Your tossin’ and turnin’ is killing him, why the fuck can’t you just settle down? You need to just put your DDD down and sleep already, dammit.

He sits up, ready to tear you a new one—and pauses.

“Um,” his voice is high, somewhat uncertain, and your eyes snap over to look at him. “Why are you looking at coffins for sale?”

You sigh, a bit wistfully. “I just can’t stand sleeping in a bed anymore. I didn’t want to be rude, so I really did try, but it's been a couple hundred years since I last had one and it’s just murder on my back. I think I’m gonna just have to get a coffin. They’re so much more comfortable.”

Briefly, Mammon considers running.

Instead, he says, “What the fuck?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You do know I’m a vampire, right?”

...What the fuck—

Mammon lays back down—crosses his arms over his chest with a huff and pretends that he isn’t totally freaked the fuck out. “‘Course I do, don’t be stupid. Now go to sleep already.”

So that he can escape before you try to eat him.

“Mammon,” you sing, leaning over the bed to loom over him. He swallows hard—can’t look away from your sharp, toothy grin.

You coo, “I can hear the scared little pitter patter of your heart, darling.”

He squeaks.

Levi

Honestly, Levi is so so happy to have another irl friend who’s into video games that he looks past your strangeness.

You like to stay indoors and play games!! That’s something he has in common with you that his brothers don’t, and that’s all that matters!

...Though he does find it a little weird how sometimes you just kinda sniff him.

The first dozen times he nearly had a heart attack, and when he asked why you were doing it, he Really wasn't expecting you to shrug and say “I dunno, you just smell tasty”

Seriously. Tasty? Are you Beel or something, what’s that supposed to mean?!

He’s not entirely sure why you’re a bit of a shut in gamer though, because despite your, ah, quirks, you’re still so much cooler than he is, so what’s the deal with that?

When he asks, you just shrug and say, “Old habits die hard, I guess. Real sunshine hurts, but virtual doesn’t, so I just got kinda used to living through games and staying indoors.”

“Oh.” Levi’s a bit surprised, but sympathetic. “So, you sunburn easily?”

He’s not entirely sure why you’re laughing now, since that wasn’t a joke. He was just trying to be friendly :(

But then you hug him and he’s too flustered to be offended anymore jndcks

So, when does it finally click for Levi that you’re a vampire?

You guys are having a game night in his room.

He accidentally takes a sip of your caprisun and realizes, very quickly, that it is not the refreshing juice of a caprisun pouch.

He throws up a little bit.

And screams.

And maybe blacks out for a few seconds.

But when he finally calms down and lets you explain, he’s pretty damn enchanted, because this is just like Help, My Roommate Is A Vampire And I Didn’t Know Until A Vampire-Hunter Mistook Me For Them And Attacked Me!! :D

Satan

Satan considers himself to be somewhat of a detective, y’know. His brain is just filled to the brim with Big Smarts

Naturally, he puts that jelly thicc thought tank of his to good use and realizes very quickly that you aren’t totally human.

At first, he isn’t totally sure what you are.

And then a coffin gets delivered to the house, which upon seeing you cheer “Oh sweet, my new bed!!” aaaand he puts the pieces together.

You become somewhat of a case study to him. You’re the first vampire he’s ever encountered and he just wants to know everything and anything about your life.

He’s so intrigued by you.

But you frustrate him SO much.

He wants to know about how you were turned!! It’s not like he has any other vampires that he can ask about their experience!! And you fucking tell him a different story every day!!

“A cat jumped over my deceased body!”

“I was stabbed and the wound wasn’t treated with boiling water!”

“On a dark and stormy night, I came across a palace and the owner, a hospitable gentleman, let me take refuge there. But then, I quickly realized that I was actually a hostage, and when I tried to escape, that fucker turned me!”

“Nobody put an obolus in my mouth to pay the toll of the Styx, so Charon the ferryman sent me back! What a great guy.”

“A chupacabra bit me!”

Needless to say, he considers breaking the wooden leg off one of the dining room chairs and stabbing you with it, but the lecture he would get from Lucifer just isn’t worth the effort.

He’s gonna pull the truth out of you one of these days.

Asmo

“My my, darling, what sharp teeth you have~” Asmo purrs, lifting a finger to brush against them, doe-eyes wide and curious. “The better to eat me with, hopefully?”

You smile. “Something like that.”

And you fuckin’ bite his finger.

His scream is fantastic. If you actually draw blood next time, maybe he’ll even shatter the windows!

He swats your leg sharply with a silk folding fan and cries, “What if you had broken my skin!? Do you have any idea how much time and effort goes into maintaining this soft, supple skin?! What’s wrong with you, you psychopath?”

“Don’t hit me,” you pout, scooting away from him. “I couldn’t help it! You just smell so sweet and I haven’t had any blood in a while, so—”

“Huh?” Asmo blinks, looking a bit confused. Then recovers far too quickly and waggles his eyebrows at you. “Oh, so that’s what you’re into! What a pleasant surprise~”

You thunk him on the back of the head. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to tease a vampire?”

Asmo’s grin could rival the sun.

“A vampire?! Well why didn’t you say so sooner?”

He’s already taking off his shirt.

“Get over here already and take a bite out of me~”

Beel

When he finds out that you’re a vampire, his first thought is to worry over if you can eat normal food or not.

He’s very relieved when you tell him that you can, so long as you’ve had enough blood, but that garlic is a very big no-no.

Naturally, you two bond over how both of you never quite feel full.

It’s not uncommon for the other house members to find you two laying face down on the floor, tummies rumbling, whining about how you’re staaaaarving

You carry around snacks for him, and Beel makes sure that you’ve always got access to blood (whether that means stashing blood bags, letting you feed from him, or a combo of both ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

He’s probably going to be the least weirded out by your ~undead tendencies~

Honestly, he’s a bit relieved by how strong you are. The last thing he ever wants to do is hurt you or see you get hurt, and it gives him peace of mind when he realizes that you’re actually pretty durable!

But it does give him a fucking heart attack the first time he sees you yeet yourself out a second story window to crush poor, poor unassuming Mammon.

He also really loves how your body temperature naturally runs cold. He’s a space heater, you’re an icicle—it just works. Snuggle time is good :)

He totally compares the size of your incisors with his jkdcnkj

He just thinks you’re really neat!!!

But he is very sympathetic about how you cant eat good garlic bread :(

Belphie

Listen.

We all know this emo boy is a vampire fucker, probably even more so than Asmo.

(He read Twilight. He saw all the movies. He had merch.)

(Fuck Edward and Jacob though, he was Team Alice all the way.)

(If he can stay awake long enough, he reads really shitty vampire romance novels.)

He just thinks vampires are hot, okay? He can’t help that his soul longs to be a vampire fucker.

Just accept it into your heart. Belphie already has.

So needless to say, he’s THRILLED when he finds out that you’re a vampire. He tries to play it cool though and pretends that he isn’t immediately trying to jump your bones dfghjkjh

He overheard you telling Satan that you got bitten by a Chupacabra, and they’re known for going after cows right?

He is a cowboy, y’know, guess you’re just gonna have to go to him now when you’re thirsty, y’know, since you were bitten by a Chupacabra. it just makes sense, really ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(No it doesn’t)

(But let’s be real, are you gonna pass up the chance to snuggle the shit out of him AND get a snack out of it? No. No you’re not.)

(He totally makes you arm wrestle Beel to recreate the “Iconic” twilight scene with Emmett and Bella.)

(When he realizes that you’re strong, he’s gonna make you give him piggyback rides, just like Edward and Bella :) and no he doesn’t care how ridiculous you both look)

#gnocchicanons #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #swd obey me #obey me

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

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Bewitched by Babysitter (NamKook)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationship: Jungkook x Namjoon

Genre: smut, fluff | Rating: Explicit | Word Count: ~6.9k

Summary: Namjoon is a young, single father who is set up on a blind date. He needs a babysitter, and his friend knows just the man to help.

Tags: smut, fluff, getting together, dad Namjoon, college student Jungkook, dirty talk, bareback, rough sex, coming untouched

Dating was hard as hell. Being a single parent made it exponentially more difficult. Which was mostly why Namjoon hadn’t bothered to try. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He was lonely, he missed intimacy both emotionally and physically… But he just couldn’t be bothered. That and, if directly asked, Namjoon would admit that the thought of leaving his girl alone to go on a date was far more stress than was worth it. She was his life, and had been since the day she was put in his arms.

But Mingi was beginning to get older, and Namjoon knew he’d need to loosen that grip eventually. She was due to go to school for the first time the next year, and he’d still not spent more than a few hours away from her, save for when his parents wrenched her away for a grandparent play date.

It was his best friend, Yoongi, that had suggested the blind date. And the babysitter. Jeon Jungkook was a handsome twenty-one-year-old college student. He was finishing up his junior year, and Yoongi knew him through his boyfriend; Hoseok, who was a frequent guest teacher in one of Jungkook’s dance classes. So, he was an adult, responsible, and came highly praised. The date, on the other hand, was simply someone Yoongi knew. Minimal information, but he figured they’d get along and didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Namjoon would have much rather spent the evening playing games with Mingi.

But, if anything to appease his friend, Namjoon begrudgingly prepped for the date, cleaning himself up and making himself look quite presentable. He worked from home, and often forgot what going out clothing looked like, but a quick photo to Yoongi and a thumbs up emoji response told him he’d managed to pull something off. He was just applying a touch of cologne when the doorbell rang.

“I get it!” Screamed Mingi, who had been excited about the prospect of a new friend all week since Namjoon had broken the news. He rushed out behind her, his heart pounding in his ears. Maybe he’d hate the guy. A bad gut feeling, a drug smell, something. Anything to cancel this date.

Namjoon came around the side of the door that Mingi had thrown open. His breath slammed from his chest, the oxygen seeming to leave the room. Standing on his doorstep was the most beautiful man Namjoon had ever seen. He wore an open leather jacket over a simple black t-shirt. His jeans were far too tight (they were just right, who was he kidding), and had a perfectly placed thigh rip, revealing musculature that any man of their age group would envy. Heavy, flat soled sneakers and a perfectly styled undercut topped off the look, the neon red strap of a backpack visible over one shoulder.

“You must be Kim Namjoon.”

The boy’s voice was just as heavenly as the rest of his body. He lowered his gaze and grinned, his nose crinkling to reveal large front teeth. “And you must be Kim Mingi. My name’s Jungkook. I heard you’re in charge tonight,” he said. There was no hint of baby talk in his voice – in fact it didn’t change one octave, something Namjoon appreciated. He abhorred baby talk. Jungkook crouched down and offered his hand to her. Mingi giggled and shook it, looking up at Namjoon.

“I’m in charge!”

“Always, princess,” Namjoon said. Jungkook rose once more and stuck his hand out over Mingi’s head.

“Pleased to meet you. Hobi-hyung’s told me a lot about you.”

“Not too much bad, I hope.”

“Not a thing.”

“Please, come in. I’ll show you around. You’re right on time.”

Jungkook entered, stepping around Mingi. He kicked off his sneakers at the door and followed Namjoon through the house.

“The kitchen, you’re welcome to anything except the beer, of course. Mingi insisted on ordering in, so there’s a few menus and a card you can use.”

Jungkook glanced over at it and nodded. Namjoon led him down the hall. “Bathroom, Mingi’s room, she doesn’t need a bath or anything tonight, so no need to worry about that. Just make sure she brushes her teeth. Bedtime is at seven sharp, but she’ll do all she can to stay up later with more stories.”

Jungkook laughed a little at that, a bright thing that had Namjoon’s heart skipping a few beats. (He should really consider getting that checked out if it kept happening).

He led Jungkook out of the room and into the living room. “So my room’s there – it’s pretty much the only place off limits for Min when I’m not at home, my work stuff is breakable, so I ask that you keep the door shut.”

Jungkook nodded. He glanced around the living room and smiled when his eyes landed on Mingi, sprawled out on the floor. She was holding a bright pink and yellow Pegasus stuffed animal, making quiet airplane noises as she moved it back and forth through the air.

Jungkook went over. He set his backpack down and laid on his back, watching her.

“Is that the noises she makes?” He asked.

“It’s a boy. His name is Min Yoongi, like my Uncle Yoongi.”

“Ohh,” Jungkook nodded, “I’m sure Yoongi would appreciate that.”

“You know my Uncle?”

Jungkook nodded. “I go to school with his…” Jungkook drifted off, looking to Namjoon.

“With Uncle Hobi,” Namjoon filled in. Jungkook seemed to relax visibly and smiled.

“Yeah, he teaches me dance.”

Mingi gasped. “You dance? Can you show me dances? I wanna dance.” She pouted. “But Daddy wants me to be older.”

Jungkook laughed a little. “Well when you’re older he might be able to put you into a class. We can dance tonight if you want. Do you know good music?”

“Uh-huh! I love Crayon Pop.”

“Wah, Crayon Pop, they’re awesome!” Jungkook cried. Mingi sat up.

“You like them?” She clapped excitedly. “Daddy! He likes Crayon Pop!”

Namjoon smiled helplessly. “What luck! You two can listen to them tonight.”

Jungkook sat up and then rose, brushing his jeans off. “Any limits on screens or anything?”

“Normally, yes, but not tonight,” Namjoon said. “Figured, special occasion. Just try to make sure she only watches… You know, child friendly stuff.”

“I’ll keep a close eye on it,” Jungkook assured him.

“I should be home no later than ten or eleven. Honestly, probably not even that long.”

Jungkook shook his head. “Hobi-hyung told me a little. You’ve not been out in a while. Take your time. We’ll be okay here.”

Namjoon smiled sheepishly. “How pathetic, huh?” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious. “You’re twenty-one, right?”

Jungkook nodded.

“Ridiculous. We’re only three years apart. And I’m pretty much an old miser.”

“You are far too handsome to be an old miser,” Jungkook said, grinning brightly. Namjoon’s heart did that dangerous stutter step once more.

“I—Uh—Oh.” Namjoon cleared his throat. He hurried over to a desk and scrawled on a notepad. “My number is here. Feel free to call or text if you need anything, I’ll answer.”

“Of course. When do you go?”

Namjoon glanced at his phone. “I should head off now… I don’t wanna get caught in traffic.”

Jungkook nodded. He shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the arm of the couch. Namjoon’s breathing, once again, cut off at the sight of the muscles in his forearms. He looked strong… And fit…

Jungkook cleared his throat, and Namjoon looked up, his eyes widening at being caught staring. He turned quickly and scooped Mingi up. “Daddy’s gonna go now, okay?”

“Can we really order takeout?”

Namjoon nodded. “Yep, just let Jungkook know when you’re hungry.” She wiggled a little in Namjoon’s arms to look at Jungkook.

“I’m hungry!”

Jungkook grinned. “As soon as your Daddy leaves we’ll order. Maybe you could talk me into dessert.” He winked in mock sneakiness, and Mingi’s eyes widened. She giggled behind her hands and did her best to wink back, blinking both eyes instead.

Namjoon’s heart squeezed. He was great with her. He kissed Mingi’s cheek and set her down. “Behave for Jungkook, okay?”

“I promise!”

Namjoon pulled on his jacket and hunted for his wallet. “Like I said, call if you need anything,” he said.

Jungkook rushed forward, grabbing it from a nearby table and passing it to Namjoon. “You look great. She’s gonna be blown away tonight,” Jungkook said, straightening the collar of Namjoon’s coat.

“Thank you. See you later.” He waved to Mingi as he tugged on his shoes. He took a moment to glance back before hurrying out, knowing that if he didn’t leave that moment, he wouldn’t go at all.

The thing about blind dates was that they always had the chance of failure. About a hundred things could potentially go wrong. The most glaring issue, of course, is simple lack of compatibility. Which, unfortunately for Namjoon, was becoming the apparent issue with this one.

Bora was a lovely woman, she honestly was. And Namjoon understood right away why Yoongi thought they’d work well together. Bora was as smart as a whip, and devastatingly funny. She was beautiful as well, and clearly had a good head on her shoulders. But something was off. Namjoon couldn’t put his finger on it. Their personalities worked, and he was sure they’d be great friends, but there was simply no spark there. More than once he found his mind wandering as she spoke, and he caught her wandering just as frequently. He was grateful when his phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.

“Oh, excuse me. This is likely my sitter. I need to use the restroom anyway.” he said. Once she nodded, looking just as grateful as he did for the break, Namjoon rose and headed toward the bathroom. Near to it, he tapped open his phone and clicked the text.

‘Miss Mingi insisted that I send you and Hobi-hyung this for your formal critique, Mr.Kim.’ Attached was a video. Namjoon’s brows furrowed as he pressed play. It was filmed in his living room, the phone propped up on his couch, if he wasn’t mistaken. Jungkook backed up and pressed play on the YouTube video paused on the television. Immediately a cheery song drifted from the speakers, one Namjoon knew well – Bar Bar Bar, from Crayon Pop. Mingi and Jungkook stood side by side, facing the camera. He looked at her and counted softly. On one, they began doing the choreography to the music. Jungkook’s moves were smooth and obviously practiced. Mingi was a little less cohesive, often losing her place and looking to Jungkook for guidance. He kept an eye on her, helping her catch up by exaggerating the moves when she’d get lost. Mingi’s laughter covered the sound of the music as she caught on, bouncing to the bright beat. Jungkook was grinning broadly, visible even from the distance of the camera.

When the video ended, Namjoon blinked, surprised to find his eyes had watered. He wasn’t an extremely emotional man – even with his daughter… But there was something about it. His heart clenched when he scrolled back in the video. He paused it at a perfect moment. Mingi was looking up at Jungkook, her eyes wide and adoring. Jungkook was looking down, his expression filled with an equal amount of adoration.

Namjoon blinked quickly to clear his vision, sniffing. He tapped out a response.

‘100 out of 100 for Miss Mingi. 90 out of 100 for Mr. Jeon – your form was off for 0.005 seconds ;)’

Namjoon slipped into the bathroom, taking a moment to collect himself before heading back out to the table with Bora.

On the way his phone buzzed once more, and he couldn’t resist checking it.

‘I call a biased judging! But she’s adorable, so it can slide :D’

Namjoon chuckled and slid his phone into his pocket as he sat down.

“Everything okay?” Bora asked.

“Yeah, just my sitter checking in.”

Bora sighed, folding her hands neatly over her nearly empty plate. “Tonight has been nice, Namjoon-ssi… But I think you and I both can sense it’s not going anywhere. At least not… Where we’d like it to go.”

Namjoon’s shoulders slumped. He nodded, hanging his head. “I’m sorry. I feel bad, I wanted to make it work.”

Bora reached over, setting her hand over his. “It’s not your fault, or mine. Sometimes these things just don’t work. You are a lovely man, and your daughter sounds like an angel. Someone will be very lucky to finally call you theirs.”

“You too, Bora.” Namjoon squeezed her hand gently. “Yoongi was right, you are amazing. I would like to be friends, if you want.”

She beamed. “I’d enjoy that. So see, the night was not lost. We’ve made new friends.”

Namjoon nodded, smiling softly. “You are right.” He reached up, calling for the check. “Do you have a way home? We can share a car.”

“No, I have my roommate coming to pick me up in a while. I had a feeling we may end things early.”

“Understandable.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“No, I’ll take a car. I need to stop and get cash for Jungkook anyways.”

Namjoon took the bill gratefully and handed over his card to the server.

When it was returned, Namjoon rose, helping Bora into her jacket and standing out with her until her friend came. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” He smiled softly and waved, watching as the car drove off. He called a car for himself, leaning against a nearby light pole. As he waited, he found himself watching the video Jungkook had sent a few more times, his heart seeming to clench uncomfortably each time.

The man was unbearably beautiful. And so good with Mingi, Namjoon had never seen someone so naturally good with children. And Mingi’s adoration was clear – she was quite fond of Jungkook already. He would need to have Jungkook over more often. Not even as a sitter, perhaps for dinner one night. He wanted to get to know the boy more himself, if he was being honest.

Namjoon let his mind wander, and it drifted almost naturally to Jungkook. His body – his smile.

He wondered what the boy’s story was, where he was from, why he wanted to dance. What he did for fun… If he had a partner… Namjoon knew it was a dangerous line of thinking, but he couldn’t help it. He climbed into the car once it arrived, gazing out the window as they wove through the traffic toward his part of the city.

The house was quiet when Namjoon entered, and only the hallway light was on. He scowled, looking around. The remains of dinner in the trash, a receipt on the counter… Jungkook’s bag unzipped on the couch, a few books sticking out. Namjoon resisted the urge to snoop. He walked quietly down the hall, peeking into Mingi’s room.

She was curled up in her bed, arms wrapped in a stranglehold around her little Pegasus as she slept. Jungkook was also in her room. He was sprawled out on the floor, using one of Mingi’s stuffed puppies as a pillow. A textbook and notebook were open to his right, a pencil rolled a few feet away. Chemistry, if Namjoon’s eyes served him correctly. One of Mingi’s storybooks was open to Jungkook’s left. His eyes were shut, plush lips parted as he snored softly.

Namjoon snuck in as quietly as he could, picking up the pencil and carefully shutting the text book. He scooped it up before reaching out and shaking Jungkook lightly.

Jungkook snorted and shifted, blinking tiredly. He looked up and his eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet, bowing low.

“Sorry—” He whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Namjoon responded in a quiet voice He beckoned Jungkook out of the room and shut Mingi’s door.

“What time did she go down?” Namjoon asked, handing Jungkook’s school supplies back to him as they walked back into the living room.

“A little before I sent you that video. We were busy so I didn’t have a chance to send it before.”

Namjoon nodded. He flipped on the living room light and leaned on the wall, watching Jungkook pack up his backpack.

“You are great with her. Do you have siblings?”

“An older brother, none younger. I’ve just always really liked kids. I help out at the local dance studio when I can, working with five to seven year olds.”

“The one a few blocks away from the college?”

Jungkook nodded. “That’s the one Hoseok told me to enroll Mingi in.”

“Honestly, if I’m not speaking out of turn, the girl has a lot of natural talent. You’d do well to let her nurture it.”

“I’ve thought of it. I’m just…” Namjoon chuckled, “Over protective.”

Jungkook nodded, He sat down on the couch. “Can I ask a personal question?”

“Sure.” Namjoon sat down with him.

“Hobi-hyung told me you were young, and a single father. But you aren’t much older than me. Mingi is school age. What… Happened?”

Namjoon smiled. “When I was a sophomore in college, I hooked up with a kind freshman. She was pre-law, on a scholarship, had a bright future. I was a jackass rich kid who thought I owned the world. We had sex, and the condom broke.” He shrugged. “I knew it was my responsibility too. Having a baby and raising it would have ruined her life. She didn’t want that. So I took responsibility. I offered to help her through the pregnancy, and then when the child was born I’d take full custody.”

“So she’s not in the picture at all?”

“We’re still friends, and she does know Mingi. But she isn’t a mother. Some people just aren’t meant to be parents, and she is one of them, we both know it. I, on the other hand… Have always wanted to be a dad. I just got my wish a few years sooner than planned.”

“So you’re… Only what, Hobi-hyung’s age?”

Namjoon nodded. “We’re the same year, yeah. A few years older than you.”

“You’re so mature and put together.” Jungkook looked around. “I’d kill to be this set up when I’m in my early twenties.”

“It can happen. Just takes dedication.”

“So how did your date go?” Jungkook suddenly asked. He stretched out and lifted his arms, baring his tight stomach for a moment. Not that Namjoon was looking…

“Wh—” Namjoon looked back up to Jungkook’s face. “Oh, uh, yeah, it didn’t go well. She was nice, but…”

“Not compatible.”

“Right.”

Jungkook nodded. “That’s too bad,” he said softly, looking down at his lap.

“Why?” “Well… If it didn’t work out, there’s no more need for a babysitter. I was kinda hoping to come over more to watch Mingi and see… You.”

Jungkook met Namjoon’s gaze, smiling a little. “She must have been blind. You’re a stunning man.”

Namjoon chuckled. “Thank you for the praise, Jungkook. But it was just our personalities, really.”

“Well still. She’s missing out.”

“Just because I don’t have another date with her doesn’t mean I won’t need a sitter. Especially one as good with Mingi and as kind… Maybe I’ll find more time to go out.”

“Or you could stay in,” Jungkook offered. “And just have me over… To hang out.”

Namjoon remained silent. He met Jungkook’s gaze, a little surprised to see his expression had darkened to something far more… Primal. Namjoon’s stomach knotted.

“Jungkook—"

“I like you. I did the second you opened that door. You’re handsome and mature and a good parent. You seem like the kind of man that knows what he wants… And goes and gets it.”

The spit in Namjoon’s mouth seemed to dry up all at once. “I—I suppose that’s been said.”

“So why are you hesitating?”

Namjoon tilted his head a little, unsure what Jungkook was implying.

“It’s okay, you know,” Jungkook said softly.

“What is?”

Jungkook smirked. He leaned a little closer to Namjoon. “That you wanna fuck the babysitter.”

Namjoon yelped, jumping to his feet, his eyes widening. “What?!”

Jungkook covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his laughter to no avail. He looked pointedly at Namjoon’s crotch, not moving from the couch.

Namjoon scowled and looked down. Much to his surprise, he realized his slacks, which fit far too tightly anyways, were beginning to tent with the half-erection he’d gotten. Half hard just from sitting next to a handsome man, what was he, a teenager? Namjoon covered his crotch quickly. “That’s not— I mean, I’m not a pervert, I—“

“You what?” Jungkook pressed. “Weren’t picturing me naked?”

Namjoon’s silence seemed to give Jungkook the answer he needed. He rose, stepping toward Namjoon. “It’s a normal fantasy, I suppose. A single parent... A young, handsome man. A big empty bed...” He pushed Namjoon’s hands away from his crotch and cupped the bulge, a smirk on his pretty mouth.

Namjoon’s eyes rolled back. He could feel his cock hardening further, and Jungkook gave a tentative stroke, sending sparks up his spine.

“It’s big,” he cooed. “I’ll say it again, Mr.Kim...” He moved closer, pressing his lips against Namjoon’s neck before moving to his ear. “Do you wanna fuck your babysitter?”

Namjoon gave a strained groan before nodding quickly.

“I want you too, sir,” Jungkook responded. Namjoon’s cock twitched in Jungkook’s hand. The way he loved being called that.

“I don’t get many men to fuck me good and hard... They make me top, usually. Do you want to fuck my ass? Bend me over and make sure I remember you tomorrow?”

“Jungkook—“

“Take me to bed, Mr. Kim.”

“Call me Namjoon, please—“

“I will... But wouldn’t you prefer sir?”

Namjoon moaned brokenly. He grabbed Jungkook’s hair and yanked his head back, pressing their lips together hard. Jungkook sighed contentedly against Namjoon’s mouth. He twisted his hips forward, and Namjoon could feel Jungkook’s cock growing hard in his jeans. Namjoon broke the kiss quickly and dragged him toward the bedroom, kicking the door shut before shoving him onto his back onto the bed.

Jungkook giggled, biting his bottom lip. He looked up at Namjoon, reaching down to undo his jeans. Namjoon crawled over him, catching his mouth in another kiss. He pushed Jungkook’s hands out of the way and undid the zipper himself, reaching in to stroke Jungkook’s cock through his boxers.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Jungkook muttered against his mouth.

“Do you want it?” Namjoon worried, pressing kisses over his cheek and jaw.

“I do. I wanted to kiss you from the moment I met you,” Jungkook admitted. He slid his hands over Namjoon’s shoulders and then around, undoing the buttons on his shirt. “You looked so nice dressed up. You smelled so good. I was a bit jealous.”

Namjoon lifted his head, meeting Jungkook’s gaze. “Jealous?”

“Mhm… That I was the babysitter… And you were going out with someone else.” He pushed his shirt open and leaned up, kissing Namjoon’s bare chest. He bit down lightly on Namjoon’s nipple. The surprise pleasure-pain of it twisted Namjoon’s stomach into little knots, his balls drawing up as his cock twitched.

Jungkook laid back and bucked his hips, his eyelids fluttering shut when his bulge rubbed over Namjoon’s thigh.

“Get these clothes off before I rip them off,” Namjoon huffed. He rose and stripped out of his own clothing quickly, his hands shaking as he fought with his belt. Jungkook stripped far more slowly, taking his time to peel his clothing off. Namjoon knew it was on purpose – and it was working – each inch of skin the handsome man revealed had his brain that much closer to short circuiting.

When Jungkook was naked, he got up from the bed and then sank to his knees in front of Namjoon, reaching up to pull his boxers down. Namjoon’s vision blurred a little as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Jungkook’s breath was hot against the sensitive skin of his shaft. He grinned up at him.

“Want me to suck your cock, sir?” He purred. Namjoon may have forgotten how to swallow.

His throat clicked and he nodded, not trusting his voice.

Jungkook laughed a little. He stroked Namjoon gently a few times before wrapping his lips around his tip. His mouth was warm and soft. It sent all sorts of tingles through Namjoon’s body.

“Oh, Jungkook…” He sighed softly, letting his hand rest lightly on Jungkook’s head. His hair was silky smooth, and Namjoon couldn’t resist running his fingers through it. Jungkook rolled his eyes up, meeting Namjoon’s gaze as he moved forward, taking more of his cock into his mouth. He sucked almost cautiously, huffing a quiet laughing sound through his nose when Namjoon shivered. Another suck, a little harder, and his tongue slid flatly over the underside of the tip.

“Your mouth,” Namjoon groaned, reaching back to steady himself with the nightstand.

Jungkook pulled off with a pop.

“Maybe you should sit.”

“Maybe I should just fuck you,” Namjoon suggested instead, pulling Jungkook up and kissing him deeply. He reached around, squeezing his ass before spreading it, and letting his finger slide over Jungkook’s tight hole.

Jungkook giggled against his mouth, breaking the kiss and blinking at him with almost an innocence.

“You want to fuck me bad, huh?” He purred, sliding his hands over Namjoon’s chest. Namjoon nodded. Jungkook crawled onto the bed. “Do you have lube? I can give you a show...” He spread his legs open and slid his hands down his inner thighs.

“You know... Next time.”

Namjoon grabbed Jungkook’s ankles and twisted his legs over one another. Jungkook got the picture and flipped onto his belly. Namjoon lifted his hips as he crawled onto the bed, spreading his ass open.

Jungkook was shaved smooth and clean around his hole, the skin looking delectably soft.

Namjoon thumbed his hole. “God, you’re gonna be so tight on my dick...”

“I like it tight,” Jungkook panted against the pillow. “I like the stretch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Namjoon held his ass open and spat. He leaned down, catching the spit with his tongue and lapping wetly over Jungkook’s hole. He tasted like fresh soap and something distinctly him. Namjoon could get addicted.

He immediately began to work his tongue against the tight rim, pausing to lick wet stripes over his ass and balls, massaging his rim with his fingers until it finally began to relax. He picked up a rhythm and pattern with his tongue and fingers, starting to slip more easily into Jungkook’s hole. Namjoon pulled back, scissoring his fingers. Jungkook was gripping the pillow moaning and gasping into it. His hips were raised just enough for the tip of his cock to bump the bed when he moved. A dark streak of precome told Namjoon his sweet new bed mate was trying desperately to hump the bed.

Endearing, really. Namjoon lifted Jungkook’s hips higher, removing the stimulation against his ruddy, hard cock tip.

Jungkook whimpered, looking back. His cheeks were pink, sweat dotting his forehead and plastering a few strands of hair down.

“Please—“

Namjoon reached between his legs, giving his cock a few firm tugs. As he did, he drove his tongue back up Jungkook’s ass, smirking as the inner muscle reluctantly gave way.

Jungkook grunted into the pillow, jerking forward.

“Please!” He sobbed, his voice muffled. Perfect.

Namjoon rose and laid over Jungkook, letting his cock nestle between Jungkook’s perky ass cheeks. He kissed over his shoulder as he reached out for the lube, tucked into his top drawer.

“I bet I could make you squirt from eating you out,” he whispered. Maybe I should have you ride my face. Come all over yourself with just my tongue up your tight little ass.”

Jungkook sobbed brokenly.

“No, please—“ He gasped. “Need your cock, sir, please.”

“I know you do, Jungkookie. Just relax. I’ll give it to you.”

Namjoon kissed his cheek and rose back on his knees. He added lube to Jungkook’s hole, and then his own cock. He lined his tip up, taking a moment to appreciate the scene. His babysitter - a young man he’d just met... So fucking handsome. So fucking eager to take his dick. He was definitely making the most of this.

Jungkook screamed into the pillow when Namjoon slid his cock in, stretching him open. He was impossibly tight, even with preparation. Jungkook reached back, holding his ass open. Namjoon took advantage, working more of his cock in. He could see the stretch of Jungkook’s rim, and the way his fingers bit into his plump ass cheeks. His cock was girthy all the way down as he pushed it into Jungkook, rock solid and throbbing against Jungkook’s sensitive rim.

“That’s it,” Jungkook gasped, turning his head so he could be heard. “Fuck my ass, sir. Pound the babysitter’s tight little hole—“ He cried out when Namjoon slammed in, burying himself to the hilt. He took a moment to let Jungkook relax around him - or maybe a moment to relax his own body, Namjoon wasn’t sure, before beginning to fuck into him.

Jungkook rose to his knees, wrapping his arms back around Namjoon’s shoulders as he moaned. His hard cock bounced with each thrust, dribbling precome onto the sheets.

“Fuck me,” he whined softly in Namjoon’s ear. “Wreck my tight little hole. I know you need it, you’re so hard in me. Oh—“ He let his head fall back when Namjoon’s teeth found purchase on his shoulder, a firm bite.

“Gonna mark me up?” He purred into Namjoon’s ear. “I came here for a simple job, and you’re violating my body in every way.”

Namjoon’s cock throbbed in his ass, and Jungkook smirked against his jaw. “You like that. You gonna come in me too? Fill me up? I bet there’s a lot - You’re so pent up, sir.”

Jungkook moaned in his ear. Namjoon’s speed increased. “Yes—“ he whined. “Fuck me and fill me up, send me home all full of you, please—“ he sobbed brokenly. Namjoon pulled out suddenly, and Jungkook’s hole gaped, flexing around nothing.

He cried out when Namjoon flipped him onto his back. Their gazes met for a moment and Namjoon smirked. He put Jungkook’s legs over his shoulders and lifted his hips, pulling his ass open.

Namjoon spat directly onto the tiny gape, watching as it dribbled into Jungkook’s ass. Jungkook whined softly. “Please—“

Namjoon obliged, lining his cock up and pushing back in. He laid over Jungkook, folding him up as he began to fuck him once more.

The new angle felt more intense, and the eye contact Namjoon now held seemed so much more intimate. Jungkook’s cheeks were a delightful pink, and growing redder. He moaned sweetly, reaching up to hold onto Namjoon’s shoulders.

“So quiet now,” Namjoon teased, his strokes long and deep, making Jungkook’s toes curl against his thighs as his cock slid over his prostate again and again. “Where’s that dirty mouth?”

“D— Do you like it when I talk dirty?” Jungkook panted.

Namjoon leaned down, kissing over his ear. “You were driving me wild, Jungkook,” he growled. “Do you still want my load, baby? Want me to send you home with an ass full of my come?”

Jungkook moaned, his fingers biting into Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Yes! Yes, please, sir— Give it to me—“ Jungkook’s eyes rolled back. “I’m so close—“

“Come then. Come from me wrecking your pretty little hole,” Namjoon demanded. He shifted, picking up speed and aggression with each thrust.

Jungkook clawed streaks down Namjoon’s back, slamming his head back into the pillow. The pleasure pain of it was nearly too much, but Namjoon struggled to hold on. Jungkook’s cock began to spurt onto his stomach, ass clenching around Namjoon’s cock as he came, choking out Namjoon’s name.

“That’s it.” Namjoon’s voice was smoky and thick, doing his best to drag Jungkook’s orgasm out. “Squeeze my cock, baby. Lemme know how good you’re squirting for me.” He groaned softly. “Such a tight little butt— Fuck— I’m not pulling out—“ he warned.

“Don’t!” Jungkook pleaded. He reached down, grabbing Namjoon’s hips. “Come deep— Oh fuck please, come up my ass, Namjoon, please— Deeper— Oh God!”

Namjoon swore softly. He buried himself to the hilt, and began to thrust shallowly as his body lit up, sparks of pleasure igniting his nerves. His cock began to jerk as he fucked into Jungkook’s relaxing body. Each twitch was hard and rhythmic as he came, spilling deep inside Jungkook. Jungkook began to clench and relax his rim, trying to milk as much from Namjoon’s cock as he could, even as Namjoon began to soften inside him.

Jungkook let his legs fall open, reaching up to wipe sweat from his brow. He smiled sleepily. “Wow.”

“Wow is right,” Namjoon mumbled. He pulled out slowly, flopping onto the bed beside Jungkook. “You okay?”

“Mhm… Relaxed.”

Namjoon grabbed a tissue, carefully wiping Jungkook’s stomach, and then sitting up to clean the lube and mess left behind from their sex.

Jungkook smiled and nodded his thanks before sighing far more heavily. He opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon worried, lying next to him once more.

“I should go home.”

“Oh…” Namjoon hesitated. “Or, I mean… It’s late. You could just stay the night.”

Jungkook looked over, his brows furrowed and mouth in a soft pout. “You… Would want me to?”

“Well, I’m not kicking you out after we just made love. If you don’t wanna go…”

“What about Mingi?”

“Well, if she asks, where else would I have you sleep? You’re too big for the couch comfortably. And you couldn’t very well sleep in her room. And I wouldn’t want you driving late at night…”

Jungkook smiled softly.

“Aw, Mr. Kim… Sounds like you’re almost fond of me. This wasn’t just sex?”

Namjoon’s smile wavered. Jungkook – though teasing – did bring up a good point. Jungkook seemed to notice his shift, because he moved just enough to kiss Namjoon hard.

“If it was, I’m okay with that. But if it wasn’t… I think I’d be okay with that too,” he said softly. Instead of letting Namjoon answer, he kissed him once more, cupping his cheek.

Namjoon reached up, holding his wrist. He pulled away, pressing their foreheads together.

“I didn’t give much thought about it, honestly. You are so young, have a whole bright future. I’m already established… I have a kid. I’m not an easy person to have a relationship with, especially not someone in your shoes.”

“Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.” Jungkook laid back down. “But let’s not talk about it tonight. We had amazing sex. I’m all loose and relaxed, and I am tired. Why don’t we get some sleep, and we can talk about it tomorrow, when we’re both fully rested and more aware.”

Namjoon nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.” He kicked the blankets down and pulled them over them. Jungkook snuggled up to him, resting his head on his shoulder and slinging one arm across Namjoon’s middle. His body was warm and soft. It was so… Comforting, if Namjoon was being honest. He could get quite used to something like this, he thought as he wiggled a little closer to Jungkook. If Jungkook did want to date him… He could definitely get used to this.

Namjoon could faintly hear the television. It sounded like a children’s program. Mingi was probably up. He snuggled deeper under his blankets, Jungkook’s warm body still wrapped around him. The morning sunlight was streaming through his window, lightening his eyelids. Heaving a weak sigh, he opened his eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the light before looking over at Jungkook. He was just as beautiful in the daylight. His hair mussed from the pillow, soft lips parted as he slept, chest rising slow and steady. Namjoon’s heart clenched uncomfortably. He wanted Jungkook. As far more than a babysitter, or fuckbuddy, or friend. He truly wanted him. They’d need to talk today.

Namjoon frowned at the door, hearing what sounded like Mingi having a conversation with someone. He wasn’t expecting anyone today… And Mingi knew not to open the door for strangers. Before Namjoon could stand, his bedroom door creaked open.

Namjoon sat up a little, expecting his daughter. Instead, Yoongi stood in the doorway, a cup holder of coffee gripped in his hands. Hoseok stood behind him, a cardboard box. Namjoon’s eyes widened. He saw Yoongi and Hoseok both move their gaze from him, to Jungkook, and back to him.

“What the fuck,” Hoseok strained.

Jungkook sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. “What’s – Oh…” He smiled sheepishly when he realized the company in the bedroom. “Morning, Hyung...”

Namjoon cleared his throat. “What brings you here this morning?”

“Bora...” Yoongi drifted off. “She told me you two didn’t work out. We came to... Can we speak to you outside for a second, Namjoon?”

It was Namjoon’s turn to smile sheepishly. “Sure. Wait for me? We need, ah...” he motioned to their pants and shirts strewn on the floor.

Hoseok and Yoongi backed out, shutting the door.

Jungkook grimaced. “I feel like I’m about to get scolded by a parent.”

“Same,” Namjoon admitted. He rose, pulling on a pair of sweats and a shirt. “Do you wanna wear yesterday’s clothes? Something of mine might fit you...”

“I should wear yesterday’s.”

Namjoon nodded. He watched Jungkook rise, unable to hide the small smile that curved his mouth up.

“You’re so handsome.”

Jungkook grinned brightly, pulling on his clothes. “You’re just saying that.”

“Am not. Really, Jungkook... I like you.”

“I like you too, Namjoon.”

“We should talk. About that.”

Jungkook nodded. “I agree. After we talk to them,” he chuckled a little. He approached Namjoon, touching his upper arm. “Can I kiss you?”

“I’d like that.”

Jungkook closed the space between their mouths, giving Namjoon a chaste peck on the mouth. He pulled back, smiling.

Namjoon opened the door. Hoseok and Yoongi both rose from the couch.

“Jungkook, would you mind Mingi?” Hoseok asked. Jungkook nodded. He sat next to her, immediately drawing her bubbly attention.

Yoongi motioned with his head, and Namjoon followed the couple outside.

“What the fuck, Namjoon,” Hoseok said as soon as the door was shut.

“Why are you swearing at me?”

“I sent you a babysitter, not a fucking hooker.”

“Hey!” Namjoon snapped. “It wasn’t like that.”

“What about the date, Namjoon?”

Yoongi asked. “Why didn’t Bora work out? It wasn’t him...”

“No!” Namjoon shook his head. “Not at all. She’s great. I really enjoyed her company. But she’s not... For me. It has nothing to do with Jungkook.”

“I find that hard to believe since he was naked in your damn bed this morning,” Hoseok argued, crossing his arms.

“He’s not a child, Hobi,” Namjoon argued. “You act like I forced him.”

“You were his employer last night, Namjoon,” Yoongi said.

“He made the first move! I reciprocated! I like him, hyung.”

“He’s one of my best students.”

“And if he were to date another student? Would you throw a fit?” Namjoon sighed, letting his arms fall. “I really do like him. The sex was great but... He is so good with Mingi. She adores him. And I find him so easy to talk to. I want to try with him.”

“Hobi...” Yoongi said softly. He glanced over at Hoseok.

“He made the first move?” Hoseok clarified. Namjoon nodded, smiling a little.

“He’s quite brazen. I couldn’t say no.”

“Little brat’s gonna be cleaning the dance studio for a week,” Hoseok muttered without much venom.

Namjoon grinned at that. “Don’t be too hard on him; he’ll probably be sore for a few days.”

Hoseok blinked, then blinked again, before realization dawned on him. He made a noise that was a cross between a groan and a scream, and gave a dramatic full body shudder.

“That is my student, Kim Namjoon.”

“And hopefully my boyfriend... if I play my cards right.”

“I do hope it works out,” Yoongi said. “For what it’s worth. You two did look pretty cute together.”

“You should see him with Mingi, hyung. They’re already two peas in a pod.”

“I saw the video he sent Hoseok. They do seem to get along great.”

Namjoon’s smile grew almost painfully wide. “That made my whole night.”

“Come on, we should get in. We got you coffee, but didn’t expect a fourth...”

“I’m sure we’ll make due.”

Namjoon entered, smiling softly. Jungkook was folded up on the floor, coloring with Mingi in one of her books. She was babbling on about something, and Jungkook continued to nod and respond appropriately.

“Mingi, come get food,” Yoongi called.

She bounced up, grabbing Jungkook’s hand and tugging him toward the kitchen. Jungkook let himself be pulled, backtracking to Namjoon as Yoongi served Mingi.

“Get in too much trouble?” He worried.

“No. But even if I had... It’d be worth it,” Namjoon confessed. He reached up, brushing a lock of hair from Jungkook’s forehead. “What’re you doing tonight?”

“Just studying.”

“Have enough free time to slip in a dinner date?”

Jungkook grinned. He stepped a little closer to Namjoon, setting his hands on his hips. “I think I could pull myself away for a few hours.” He pressed a kiss to Namjoon’s mouth. Namjoon grinned against his mouth, chuckling a little. He pulled back still smiling.

“You know what this means?” He walked to the table, grabbing the coffee Yoongi held out for him.

“What?” Jungkook asked.

“I’ll need to find a new babysitter.”

#thebtswritersclub #namkook #namjoon x jungkook #jungkook x namjoon #fluff #smut #jungkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #namjoon smut #kim namjoon smut #jungkook x rm #rm x jungkook #mywriting #dilf namjoon

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nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice · 4 years

Note

Ok modern zuko would be an expert at breakdancing and sokka would be the guy who just bi-panicks whenever he does

(whoops, my hand slipped and I accidentally wrote a modern au headcanon turned zukka karate au one-shot)

Okay but consider this instead: Zuko doesn’t know how to dance for shit and has horrible rhythm, but he is a GOD at martial arts. He’s been doing some type of style since he was a kid and is a full black belt by the time he hits high school. Martial arts was always something he excelled at, but it was also something that made him feel more secure. It was something he could work on to help him protect himself from his home life, even if it wasn’t enough most times. He specifically excels in weapons forms (I’m thinking twin sais) and you DO NOT want to spar with him. Because he may be skinny and shorter, but he’s quick and can hit hard at just the right spots.

When he was younger he was obsessed mainly because he felt that belt rankings and trophies from competitions were a way to prove himself to his dad, but when he moved in with Iroh (who encouraged him to keep it up and was so proud of how talented and passionate he was about it), he basically used it in place of talking about his feelings. He didn’t talk about his home life or the shit Ozai did, instead, he put all his energy into his black belt levels, learning new weapons forms, and eventually into teaching new students as a junior instructor.

At school, he’s awkward and asocial and just doesn’t have the energy for people. Zuko has little patience for asshole classmates who ask intrusive questions about his scar or spread rumors about where he got it. He eats lunch in his English classroom and would be a complete shut-in if Iroh didn’t get him to work part-time at the Jasmine Dragon. But in the dojo, he’s focused and is able to direct his energy into improving his forms and teaching younger teens.

One of his newer students transferred from a different dojo after moving from a different state. He’s actually a freshman at Zuko’s high school but it’s not as if Zuko really interacted that much with him. This kid, Aang, is as talented and dedicated as he is, but has a long way to go to learn all the new katas. Zuko’s been dubbed the ‘scary’ trainer at the dojo. He’s the serious one who will yell if someone is goofing off and everyone’s seen that he has no problem using full force in a demonstration (little kids love him and he’s super nice to them, but he teaches the 12-15 age range). Plus there’s that scar, which doesn’t make him the most initially welcoming person. But this new kid Aang just latches onto Zuko immediately. He says hi to Zuko in the halls at school and works on his katas outside of regular practice times. At first Zuko thinks this sickeningly positive kid is annoying as crap, but warms up to him. He likes that Aang cares about martial arts and isn’t nice as a show, he’s just genuinely nice.

And maybe he sees Aang hanging around school with a sophomore girl and her brother who just might be in Zuko’s calc class and English class.

And maybe Zuko thinks this guy is insanely attractive and somehow incredibly funny even though most of his humor consists of the worst puns imaginable.

But obviously, Zuko hasn’t attempted to ever actually talk to this guy. The most that he could classify as ‘talking’ to the cute, funny guy on the robotics club is the one day in English class when he had to respond to someone’s dumbass comment about Macbeth with what ended up being a ten minute spoken essay about obvious motifs and symbolism. To which Mr. Puns and Ponytail was very obviously paying great attention to and even gave Zuko a smile and thumbs up for.

Zuko knows it’s pointless to engage. After all, he’s a senior and he doesn’t have any friends anyway. There’s no point in making any this year. Crushing on this guy from the comfortable position of the other side of the room is totally good enough for him. Totally. This is fine. He’s fine.

Besides, he’s got competitions and if he doesn’t secure the regional championships this year he’s never going to get the chance after he goes to college. And he’s got his kids to train. Aang in particular is gearing up for his first debut into this area’s tournament.

The tournament’s in October and usually, Zuko focuses on his own matches and performances, but Aang really wanted him to watch his set. So on this day, he stands on the sides of Aang’s zone instead of obsessively going through his katas in a corner.He’s not going to be able to watch the whole set because it overlaps with his own weapons portion, but he stands on the side and gives Aang a reassuring look that, ‘don’t worry, you’ll do great, you’re a talented kid,’ when his student looks over to him nervously.

And wouldn’t you know it? Aang brought some friends to come watch. And one of them is Mr. Zuko’s Big Gay Crush.

“Oh, hey Zuko,” are the words that come out of this guy's mouth that give Zuko a near-stroke. And damn if this guy’s eyes aren’t blue and pretty and he usually wears his hair in a ponytail at school, but now he’s wearing it down and Zuko wishes he could take screenshots with his brain because holy moly.

“Hey.” Is the best that Zuko can get out of his dumb mouth. “You’re Sokka.”

“Aang invited us to come watch,” Sokka nudges his head to indicate the ‘us’ includes his younger sister, who Zuko doesn’t know the name of. “How do you guys not get heatstroke during these things? It’s like a million degrees in here.”

“Oh the gi’s pretty cold, I mean, it’s got air and stuff.”

Zuko decided right there that he would be completely fine with being struck by lightning. Of course, that’s what his stupid brain would come up with. Of course, that’d be the thing he’d say in front of one of the smartest guys in his class.

They watch Aang perform his set for the judges. Zuko recognizes that Aang took his advice when he said that he wasn’t putting enough force into his hits. He’s never seen Aang be as, well, aggressive isn’t the right word, but he’s definitely putting more power into his form. Zuko wouldn’t admit it, though, but only part of his attention was for Aang at the moment. The other part was for Sokka, who was smiling bright and pumping his fists when Aang completed a row of kicks.

The small part of Zuko’s brain that wasn’t being taken up by watching Aang or trying to act normal around his crush noticed the clock on the wall indicating that the weapons portion would be starting in five minutes.

“I’ve got to go do a thing so I’ll just, um, go do that now.”

“Are you competing too?” Sokka asked.

To this question Zuko just holds up his sais and raises his eyebrow as if to say ‘it’s a tournament, what do you think?’ Because yeah, he knows Sokka’s super smart, he’s seen him churn out calc answers at the speed of light and noticed his name on the robotics club awards update on the school’s website, but he’d also seen Sokka eat 5 packs of fundip at once on a dare and unironically wear a ‘women want me, fish fear me’ t-shirt for most of junior year. Somehow he had managed to fall for the smartest dumbass on earth.

“Oh yeah, right.” Sokka eyes the sais and then looks right at Zuko’s face, “Aang says you’re really good.”

Zuko decides that thinking about Aang talking to Sokka about him was something he didn’t need distracting him during his set. That was something he could anxious about later.

“Hopefully good enough for those five assholes,” Zuko replies, gesturing to the panel of judges in the weapons section of the gymnasium. To his shock, Sokka laughs. It’s a nice laugh, too. And Zuko really hoped he could blame the blush that was one-hundred-percent creeping up his face on the lack of AC.

“You know, you’re pretty funny man,” Sokka tells him. Zuko has no clue how to take that compliment, but he really does need to go.

“Right,” he grins nervously and shifts his left foot around to bounce away, “well I have to go do my thing.”

“Good luck!”

That’s where Zuko thinks the beginning and end of his interaction with Sokka would be.

The weapons portion thankfully goes by age. And since Zuko’s one of the youngest competitions, he gets to go first for his sai katas. This is what literal years of training have prepared him for. At regionals last year, the second advanced kata got him placed high enough to qualify for states. This is what he’s good at. He tells himself that a thousand times before starting his set.

There’s not a thought in his head as Zuko goes through the form. The sais glide through his fingertips with every jab, block, and hook. The imaginary opponent doesn’t stand a chance. He’s cool and competent and graceful. It’s therapeutic in a sense. There’s enough adrenaline to make Zuko feel like he’s worth something, but more importantly, he knows he’s nailing this. Whatever the judges say about it, he knows that he’s perfected this form after practicing it at least a thousand times over three years.

The judges agree with him. He’s the first competitor of the weapons portion but there isn’t really a doubt in their minds about who’s going to place.

Zuko zones back in to the gym after bowing to the panel. He walks off, feeling lighter and letting a satisfactory smile take over his face.

He expects the hug from Uncle and the proud smile from Sensei Piandao, but what he doesn’t expect is to see Sokka, eyes wide as globes, staring at him from the other side of the mat.

Because what Zuko doesn’t know is that the second he turned his wrists in his first form during his hooks, Sokka’s brain went into Full Bi Panic Mode.

And Zuko thinks the one conversation where he couldn’t talk like a human and wanted to die for most of it would be the only time Sokka would decide to willingly talk to him. Zuko is dead wrong. Sokka, in fact, has decided that this, this is the guy his Disaster Bi Brain has decided to latch onto. Sokka’s brain and all his squishy feelings have apparently decided to attach to this aloof kid with the scar who reserved his voice for eloquent, impassioned speeches about dramas and was apparently an actual god with weapons. Sokka decides that Zuko could roundhouse kick him in the side and he’d thank him. And right now Zuko’s looking at him with a dumbfounded expression, prompting Sokka to remember how to function so he can go over to congratulate Zuko and maybe ask if his dojo provides a free trial.

So yeah, that one conversation ends up decisively not being the end of anything.

#sorry #not sorry #zukka #zuko #sokka #atla #avatar the last airbender #fanfic #I'm gonna edit and add to this #and probably updated something on my ao3 in the first time in a literal month #thanks babe for the inspiration #the babes are asking #hot leaf content

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out-there-so-it-isnt-just-me · 3 years

Text

Hey guys...I have an idea if you aren't sad enough yet. I was struck by a painful comparison sort of crossover idea. It would never be canon, but I'm mourning the end of Campaign Two, and I want to be sad and over-dramatic. Essek, but as Eliza from Hamilton in “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story.” But, it’s for the entire Mighty Nien. Some of the lyrics are so on point for a poor Essek who will probably outlive all of his friends (Elves still generally live longer than Firbolgs by a good 200 years). Anyway, enjoy.

Every other founding father's story gets told

It occurs to Essek, during one of the many periods without one of the Mighty Nein (the time that he dwells on them the most), how unfair their whole situation is. They saved all of Exandria, and no one knows. They are amazing, and odd, and frustrating, and no one knows. They will die loved deeply, but not widely. He knows they prefer it that way, all things considered. But, everyone else who saves all of Exandria becomes legends, while the people he loves best will be forgotten, remembered only by him.

And that. That sounds unbearable.

So, in-between the times he sees the Mighty Nein, he begins to gather accounts. He writes down stories from those they helped, or simply left an impression on. The people who have met the Mighty Nein have an air about them that he gets good at detecting. They attracted the oddballs and the outcasts. And if they're entirely normal (whatever that means), then they usually get a certain twitch if you ask for stories about interesting strangers. About half the time, a certain blue tiefling pops up in them. He almost has a heart attack when he hears “go fuck yourself,” in Jester’s cheerful voice, when he knows Jester isn’t anywhere near there. He ends up getting the kenku’s story, and the voices of his friends are weaved into it. Essek thinks the Mighty Nein are the best people in the world, in their own rambunctious way. Part of him wants the world to love them as he does, or at least have the option to. Everyone should have a chance to get to know them, even if it's just through tales. The world would be a better place for it.

...And when you're gone, who remembers your name?

Who keeps your flame?

Who tells your story?

Once there is only him and Caduceus left, this becomes a more prominent part of how he spends his time. After...after a long, long period of mourning. He has so much life left to live without most of the people who made it worth living.

I put myself back in the narrative

I stop wasting time on tears

I live another 50(0) years

He stops hiding his past and bears his sins and his story to the world. Essek tells his story so their story can be appreciated to the fullest; his part in their story emphasizes the depth of their compassion and chaos. He tells his story, but not as himself. Essek continues to drift from town to town under a vast number of aliases. Everywhere he goes, he spreads his stories of his friends, some serious, most silly. He disguises himself so he can stay alive to do a little more good, tell a few more stories, to truly live the life his friends wanted for him.

...I try to make sense of your thousands of pages of writings

You really do write like you're running out of time.

Eventually, he gets his hands on some of Beau’s journals, Jester’s diaries, and Caleb’s research. Well, he always had the research, but he gets to the point where he can share it with the world. He slowly begins to share and explain their thoughts and personalities with excerpts from those. Maybe he also has letters that he shares parts of (though most of those, those words specifically for him, he keeps to himself, for himself). He wonders if they'd be angry at him for spilling their private thoughts. But neither Beau nor Jester filtered their thoughts very much in the first place, and he keeps anything truly painful out of the public eye. Caleb, well, Caleb was always about sharing his knowledge and research, provided it wasn't dangerous. And they were all dead anyway. One of the last things they told him was to be happy. And talking about his friends, learning more about his friends even after they were long dead, that made him the happiest he'd been in a while. So he hoped they wouldn’t begrudge him this small joy he’d managed to grasp and forgive him, should it be necessary.

I rely on Angelica

While she's alive, we tell your story

She is buried in Trinity Church near you

When I needed her most, she was right on time

Caduceus isn’t particularly interested in being well known or famous, but he never shies away from telling a story about any of his friends. Plus, he thinks it’s a good project for Essek. It's a way to continue to show his love for them and keep them alive in the only way they can be now. When Caduceus eventually passes away, he joins the eight other graves (Veth refused to be buried apart from Yeza) that lay in a tucked-away corner of the Blooming Grove. There is one space left, nestled between where Caleb and Jester lay, but it will be empty for a long time yet.

And I'm still not through

I ask myself, what would you do if you had more time...

...You could have done so much more if you only had time

And when my time is up, have I done enough?

Will they tell your story?

He keeps adding to his tale; he stretches it longer and longer with every shred he can remember. But, even his memory, as long as it is, runs out eventually. And their story finally ends, but he doesn't. He throws himself into activities that remind him of them. He does a lot of gardening ( mostly tea, poisonous plants, and flowers). He teaches children some rudimentary dunamancy in his spare time, for Caleb. He messes around with alchemy a little. Eventually, he publishes the last of the research that he and Caleb worked on together; ones that took him decades to solve by himself. He even finds himself drawing a surprising amount of dicks on random surfaces near the very end.

Oh, can I show you what I'm proudest of?

...I help to raise hundreds of children

I get to see them growing up

The time that doesn’t go towards his now worrying amount of hobbies, he spends doing what he has done since the beginning: caring for the Mighty Nien’s true legacy. He looks after and visits their children. He takes care of descendants of Luc, of Jester and Fjord, of the random teenager that Beau and Yasha seemed to adopt completely on accident, of TJ, of the Clays, and of a lovechild of Kingsley’s that found out who his father was and then somehow found Essek himself to learn about him. In an embarrassing show of sentimentality, Essek always keeps at least one offspring of Caleb's very first cat. There is a very funny story about Caleb thinking the animal was spayed when it was, in fact, not. He visits the different generations every couple of years or so (he has a schedule). The drow makes sure they know the stories of their ancestors, the adventures of the Mighty Nien; he tells them it's all real. He gives them ways to contact him if they’re in danger, or need any kind of help really ( he has funds to spare at this point). Every once in a while, a few of them will get it in their heads to write him yearly updates. It’s nice.

In their eyes, I see you, Alexander

I see you every time

And when my time is up

Have I done enough?

Will they tell your story?

It is strange and painful to see the attitude and mannerisms of the Nein in the descendants who have never met them. It is wonderful too. His stories of the Mighty Nein have become well-known tales that no one can decide how much is truth and how much is fiction (it’s true, it’s all somehow, hilariously true). He preserved them in his own way, in the right way (time travel is something he thinks of with a growing hunger the more years pass between when he last laid eyes on his friends). But in these men, these women, these children, they are truly alive.

One little half-orc girl has Jester’s mischievous eyes and infectious joy. Another halfling man squints just like Veth when she's trying to figure out if someone is bullshitting her. There’s a boy who charmingly bumbles his way through most social encounters, as Fjord did. A firbolg woman who has Caduceus gentle smile. A tiefling girl with all the audacious bravado of Kingsley. A man with eyes just as piercing as Beau’s, and a tongue just as sharp. Even Yasha’s kind and gentle demeanor somehow shines through in one small boy, despite her having no direct descendants. He gets to see these flashes of his friends in those who survive them, and it thrills him as much as it cuts him. (Sometimes, when the current cat has ruined some item of his, the pleased look it wears resembles the quiet glee Caleb exuded after he pulled a successful prank, but he’s pretty sure that’s just fanciful thinking.)

One of the last things Essek does before he dies is fully publish, in print, the entire tale of the Mighty Nein. How they came together, every person they helped along the way. The love, the loss, the kindness, the chaos, every moment he could recall or record was put into this one account (necessarily stretched out into several separate books). There is only one set, and he hands it over to the Library of the Cobalt Soul in Rexxentrum. Then he goes on his lonely way.

Oh, I can't wait to see you again

It's only a matter of time

There are now ten graves, each one as unique as its owner, nestled in a small corner of the Blooming Grove. One grave has the dirt still fresh around it. And somewhere, beyond the Divine Gate, there are cheers and laughs and cries of joy as the Mighty Nien become the Mighty Nine once more.

fin.

It’s my head-canon that by the time Essek dies he’s practically a mythical figure among the select families he looks after. It's to the point that in certain locations ( that have a lot of Nein remnants) he becomes a local legend, the guardian angel of nien (no spelling specified and with no real distinction of what that means), with skin like the night sky who drifts (literally) through towns and helps those who meet a certain requirement, unknown to the general populus. There are rumors that certain people have bestowed upon them a token they could use to call upon the angel’s aid. Of course, the people who have the tokens (sending stones or something similar. IDK how he would get that many wondrous items, but I focus on satisfying narrative not, like, plausibility) know Essek and know that he has died and that the tokens no longer work, but for a while they keep them as heirlooms, to show the love of one drow wizard for the friends he had long, long ago. Eventually, one of Veth’s descendants sells off their set because sending stones are worth A LOT, and the money seemed more practical. They have their stories; those are enough.

And before anyone complains about the Kingsley bit, I felt compelled to add a smidgen of Kingsley content because Essek loves Jester and Jester’s with Fjord and Kingsley is with both of them for years. I’m sure they get to know each other well enough that seeing traits of Kingsley is vaguely nostalgic and warming, even if it lacks the depth and love he feels for everyone else. Also, there’s no convincing me that Molly/Kingsley doesn’t have at least one illegitimate child running around from various trysts, he was basically the Scanlan of this campaign. It goes with the hedonistic vibe he gives off.

Also, is it normal that I completely designed the Nein’s burial site in my head because I did? Like I imagine they’re all spaced out in a circle. It’s almost like a stone gazebo but there’s not really a roof; it’s just a group of nine pillars that support a stone circle. The entrance is the Traveler’s door with dicks around the edge, and each of the nine pillars/supports is designed to look the knowing mistresses staff. The stone circle is covered in carvings of storm clouds and lightning. Wires are strung across the center of the stone circle to form the symbol of the Cobalt Soul. Not that you can see the wires, because vines have been grown all around them. Once you step through the Traveler’s gate, you’ll find yourself on some kind of rough mosaic floor, with depictions of a peacock, a pyramid, a snake, a sun, a moon, and (oddly) a pirate ship. The mosaic is made up of buttons of various materials and shapes. In the center is a saltwater pool/spring (depending on how magical we can get idk) and floating above it is an eternal flame encased in some sort of dunamancy magic that doesn’t actually exist that keeps it floating and eternal. Look I'm running out of ideas.

I can’t imagine what everyone’s grave marker would be, but I’m pretty sure Yasha’s is a simple stone that says "YASHA NYDOORIN: wife of Zuella and Beauregard Lionette," and the place where’s she’s buried is just covered in wildflowers that spread outside of the gazebo to encircle the structure entirely up to the gate. Also, everyone has a stone tarot card by their grave with the picture and designation that Molly gave them. Beyond that grows a weirdly dense thicket of trees and bushes that make finding the Nein's resting place rather hard. It’s said only the descendants of the Nein’s family or those favored by the Wildmother (or Traveler, Or Ioun, or Storm Lord) can find their way to them. And one tree, directly behind Yasha, is dead, struck by lightning who knows how long ago.

And they’re buried in this order: Yeza/Veth, Caleb, Essek, Jester, Ford, Kingsley, Yasha, Beau, Cad. I know there’s a good chance that a) Kingsley would just eff off and die somewhere unknown and b) Cad would probably want to be buried with the rest of his family, but shhh let me dream.

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

ripples. (kita shinsuke)

➵ you take up a part-time holiday job as a miko at the local temple. little do you know, you have the same face as the woman kita once loved.

wc: 5.2k

warnings: f!reader, reincarnation!au, kitsune!au

a/n: remy my love, this one is for you! i love you so so much, and i hope this feeds your need for more inarizaki content.

A storm pelted against the wooden roof, the sound melting with the tinkle of a woman’s laughter.

An August storm, late summer, heady and heavy.

Kita used to hate weather like this; it meant that everyone else stayed inside, that the swaying fields were out of reach, that tomorrow would be stained with mud. But recently, he’s been enjoying the storms. They meant that, if she was with him, she’d stay.

She sat across from him, her long dark hair pulled behind her shoulders as she bent over the chawan. The little black bowl had seen much use, but it stood strong. In her hand was a little whisk, kneading the matcha at the bottom of the chawan.

Dark splotches under dull eyes. A vacant expression. Rehearsed, mechanical actions. A kosode arranged a little more haphazardly than usual. Her entire form was damp from running through the beginnings of the storm on her way here.

But she had a warm smile for him. She always did.

“Are you getting enough sleep?” Kita asked, straightforward as always.

She sighed as she raised her head to look at him. She was trying to smile with her eyes, but the light wasn’t quite reaching them. “I am quite fine. Thank you for your concern.”

Kita’s features softened with concern. “You do not have to be so formal.”

“Ah, well,” she smiled, returning her attention once more to the whisk. “I hope you can forgive me.”

There is nothing to forgive, he thought. But he’s sure she’d laugh at him for saying something like that.

“How’s your family?” He asked, grasping for some topic of conversation.

She nodded slowly, eyes still on the bowl. “My younger sister is engaged to be married.”

“Is this something to celebrate?”

“I’m not sure,” she sighed, the slightest of trembles in her hand. “But father is pleased with the match.”

“Rich?”

“And powerful,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “Father expects that this gentleman will be very influential in the coming months.”

Kita knew things were changing, outside his little shrine. By how much, he wasn’t sure. The human world was beyond him, a realm of blood and darkness that he didn’t quite understand. A world that hurt her. Part of him hated it for that.

“Will he expect you to get married?” The question escaped him before he could think about it.

She caught his eye, smiling. “Not as far as I know.”

He breathed out slowly.

“I can stay with you, for now,” she murmured, reaching over and placing her hand over his.

Something was wrong. Something was off. She’s tired. She’s distant.

And he was afraid.

That fear grounded him for a moment in eternity.

✧ ✧ ✧

Kita was better at handling loneliness than most. But even he suffered under the weight of four hundred years. Especially when he’d known what it meant to love.

When she passed, he had taken the time to travel. He only moved during the night, dodging humanity when and where he could. But as the years rolled on, the night began to get blotted with lights – first by fire, later by bulbs.

So, he’d crawled back to his little shrine, hiding himself away in the nooks and crevices. This was his place, and it always would be. His duty was to remain here, as something of a guardian spirit. So he would do just that, even if it brought him little enjoyment.

Sometimes, he let children catch a glimpse of him. Usually, he could mirror their joy, their wonder. But even that hadn’t been lifting his spirits as of late. He’s been reticent, perhaps even melancholic.

But he hung around the shrine anyway, letting the days ebb on into an endless eternity. It hounded him, that never-ending existence that stretched out before him. He’s wise enough to recognise the irony in a kitsune feeling existential, but he’s always felt more human than most.

Today, he made his way to the shrine, slipping through cracks under doors and the gap where wooden planks meet each other. It’s easy for him to move around in his spirit form, more a mist than a man.

He slipped into the central shrine, duty-bound as always, to accept whatever offerings had been laid forth.

He hadn’t expected what lay in wait for him.

A miko, dark hair drawn back in a ponytail and red hakama tied over a white kosode.

You were sweeping the floor, mind seemingly somewhere else. You were humming to yourself, and Kita couldn’t help but feel this was awfully familiar. Something about your shrine had the echo of what he’d seen long ago, one of the dances the miko at his shrine would perform.

The miko had made a return, apparently. In the last few decades, they’d become something of a cultural icon. A lot could change in four hundred years.

You turned around, and Kita finally caught a glimpse of your face.

He froze.

It was her face. The woman he’d loved, adored, mourned. The woman who had left such an impact on him, who had engraved herself so deeply into his very being that he still felt the ripples of his love for her all these centuries later. The woman he had spent so many stormy afternoons with, cooped up in each other’s warmth.

He was more keyed into the secrets of the universe than most, being a kitsune and all, but even he was dumbfounded.

Kita took a deep breath, settling into his fox form. You most likely wouldn’t trust some random man coming up to you and insisting that ‘yes, actually, I am the patron spirit of this place.’ But he was sure that his fox form would grant him some authority on the subject.

He padded to the centre of the room, sitting himself down on his haunches. He wasn’t really aware of it, but it was quite regal. His four tails swished around him with a slow rhythm, each one tipped with black. His pale grey fur gave off a brilliant shimmer in the sunlight that fell between the window slats, creating a real sense of grandeur as he sat there.

He stared at you for a long moment, blinking his large brown eyes.

You stared back, gormless.

Maybe he should say something—

You thrusted the broom forward, waving it in front of his snout. “Shoo!”

He jerked his head back, stunned.

Had you not noticed his tails? Did you think he was just some average fox, scuttering in from the cold? Would he have to show you his human form?

It’s worth a shot, he thought.

He transformed in a flash, body morphing into something adjacent to humanity, fur knitting itself together as an edo-style haori.

You watched him change with wide eyes, knuckles blanching as you gripped the hilt of the broom.

Kita gave you a little wave. “Hello.”

You screamed.

Kita flinched. Why were you screaming? Wouldn’t people come running?

He took a step towards you, hands outstretched. His first instinct was to comfort you, to let you know it was all okay – after all, you had her face. “It’s okay, I—”

You whacked his hand with the broom.

Kita faltered, staring at you with wide eyes.

You… hit him? A kitsune? With a broom?

You blinked at him.

He blinked at you.

He traced your face with his eyes, his mind swirling with images of her. A beauty as fresh as the petals that bloom in spring, as clear as a spring, as bright as the morning dew.

Her face. You had her face.

You made a solid jab at his chest. Kita stumbled back, eyes wide. What were they teaching mikos these days?

He didn’t get the chance to ask. You fled, dashing out of the room with a small billow of your hakama.

He stood in dumbfounded silence, unsure of how to process what had just happened. You were the spitting image of her. But, you weren’t her. If you were, you wouldn’t have screamed. She had never run from him, never screamed. She had always treated him with respect, with a sense of reverence that came with her role as a miko. You… well, you were quite the opposite.

But you had her face. Her voice. Eternity shuddered to a stop, blocked by her – or was it your – face. Each memory flashed through his mind with startling vibrancy, coupled with a swell of emotion he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Oh, he realised. I’ve made a terrible mistake.

✧ ✧ ✧

A dozen web articles and a trip to the library later, you’d come to the conclusion that you had most definitely done something quite heretical on sacred ground.

Presuming, of course, that the man you’d whacked in the shrine was, in fact, a kitsune.

Your immediate instinct had been to run far, far away from that place; maybe even skip the country for a week or two. But then you’d considered the consequences of that. Would you be cursed? Did kitsunes inflict curses? You certainly hadn’t treated him very well. You’d hit him, actually. You thought that, at the very least, deserved an apology.

So there you stood, in the middle of the shrine, wrapped bento box in hand.

You weren’t quite sure why you’d come back. Maybe to prove to yourself that it was real, and that you weren’t just seeing things. Maybe because it might’ve been a practical joke, and you wanted the closure. How someone could’ve pulled such an elaborate ruse, well… that was beyond you, for now.

But going from seeing… that, to trying to pretend that everything was normal? That didn’t feel possible.

You’d only taken up this position as a holiday job. The extra cash didn’t hurt, and you thought it was an interesting way to spend the winter…

“Hello.”

You flinched, turning around. How on earth—

No, you shouldn’t be so surprised that he’d managed to sneak up on you. Not when a real kitsune was standing right there. A kitsune that you’d hit with a broom.

You bowed, almost at a perfect ninety-degree angle. “I am so sorry.”

The kitsune blinked at you for a moment, but you don’t see it. “It’s okay.” His voice was soft, perhaps even comforting.

You stood up and held the bento box out to him with stiff arms.

The kitsune raised his eyebrows at you.

“I, uh… I did some research, and…” You swallowed, hoping you weren’t about to make a fool of yourself. “Kitsune like inarizushi? Apparently?”

He stared at you for a very long moment. It was a little rude, truth be told.

You stared right back. Was this the right thing to do?

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, giving you a small bow. “Thank you.”

“It’s an apology,” you blurted out, your face feeling a lot hotter than you would’ve liked it to.

“What for?” The kitsune asked, tilting his head at you.

“For… for hitting you.” You could feel your cheeks growing hot. God, this was already a bit of a disaster.

“Oh,” he smiled softly at you, shaking his head. “It’s okay.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if I’d…” You took a deep breath, unable to meet his eyes. “If I’d known you were actually some kind of yokai.”

An amused glint sparked in his eyes. “You’re at a shrine. What did you think I was?”

“Well I…” You opened your mouth, braving a look at his face. “I don’t know.”

He was smiling now. And it made him quite beautiful. “You’re a miko.”

“Well, not really…” You bit your lip, glancing down at the bento box. Your arms were starting to ache, stiff as they were. “I didn’t really… believe in any of this before a couple of days ago. I just needed a part-time job over the uni holidays.”

He stared at you.

That was certainly different. She’d been deeply spiritual, seeing her role as intensely important. And yet you, the girl with her face, did not.

“I see,” he murmured, glancing at the floor. Uni holidays… was that university? Sometimes he struggled to keep up with the evolution of language. And that was to say nothing of the spattering of English words he heard people use. That was a whole other beast.

But that was of no matter. He looked back at you, a gentle smile on his face. “What do you study?”

You stared at him, silent.

He tilted his head at you. “Are you alright?”

“Well I—I guess I just didn’t think that, you know…”

You bit your lip.

He’s a kitsune. A yokai. Oh shit, did that mean Inari existed, too? Was this guy linked to Inari? What if he was Inari? Was that possible?

“Oh, the inarizushi,” he murmured, his eyes now on the bento box. You’re not sure why he suddenly decided to focus on that, almost as if to give you a reprieve in your little verbal breakdown, but you were more than delighted for this opportunity to change the conversation.

“Yes!” You sounded more enthusiastic than you would’ve liked, but hopefully this would smooth things over. But if anything, you needed appeasing more than he did.

You handed it over tentatively, deliberately trying to not let his fingers brush against yours. This was a whole new world for you, and you didn’t understand the consequences of such things. Better not tempt fate.

The kitsune settled himself down on the floor, folding his legs beneath him.

You raised your hands to shoo him off, driven by instinct. You weren’t going to let him leave crumbs.

The kitsune blinked at you, brown eyes round and quizzical. “Is there a problem?”

You paused, hands raised in front of you. Well, it was his shrine…

“Sit with me, if you’d like,” he smiled softly, nodding at the floor next to him.

You let a moment pass, watching his face closely. He gazed at you, tilting his head to the side. He looked genuinely confused. Did he… want you to sit with him?

You sat yourself down on the floor with a sigh. You thought it best to adopt the seiza position, knees on the floor as you tucked your legs underneath you, folding your hands in your lap.

“Please, relax,” he nodded at you with a smile. He unwrapped the bento box, picking up the chopsticks with a certain kind of elegance.

He smiled down at the inarizushi in his lap. You had no idea that he was comparing them to the ones she used to make him. Hers were neater, more delicate. Yours had all the signs of inexperience; rice was spilling out of one of them, and the casing looked a little too thick. But, you’d put in the effort, and that was enough to touch his heart.

You were just observing him quietly, your mind wandering off in its own direction.

If you’d told your younger self that you would be talking to a real, breathing kitsune, you would’ve spun some romantic fantasy of what that kitsune would be like. Skin like lily petals, hair white as snow and soft as silk, elegantly pointed ears, a face with all the sharpness and grace of a fox. That’s what you would’ve expected.

It wasn’t that he was a disappointment. It was just that there was a gravity to him; and yet, a sense of ethereality that you’d never seen before.

“So,” he hummed, picking an inarizushi up between his chopsticks. “You didn’t think my kind existed.”

You blinked at him for a moment. “Honestly? No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?” He popped the inarizushi in his mouth, chewing at an unhurried pace.

You didn’t really have an answer for that. “I just… didn’t.” Frankly, you just hadn’t thought about it. Nothing more to it.

He gazed at you, tilting his head. There was rice stuck to the corner of his mouth. “And now?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think now?” He said, gesturing to himself.

“Well, you’re…” You looked him up and down once. “You’re certainly real.”

He smiled at that. “Anything else?”

Was he asking for your opinion? “I guess you’re… different. From what I might’ve expected.”

“And what is that?” There’s a playful lilt to his voice.

“I… I don’t really know,” you admitted, twiddling your thumbs.

The kitsune just smiled as he picked up another inarizushi. “These are good.”

“Thank you.” You give him a half-bow, relieved that your efforts paid off. At the very least, you hadn’t angered him. Although, you weren’t quite sure if you could imagine this man as anything other than composed.

“Could you make me more?” His voice was gentle, halfway between a command and a question.

“Uh… not… not right now…”

“I meant for tomorrow,” he said.

“Oh.”

Right.

“Could you, please?” He leant forward, and you caught your breath.

There was such sincerity in his voice. Quite honestly, you still weren’t sure how to process everything that was happening. Kitsunes were real. One was sitting right in front of you. And he’d enjoyed the lunch you’d made him. So much so that he wanted you to make more.

Was it right to deny a spirit?

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists in your skirt. “Well, if I’m going to be bringing you lunch, then I may as well introduce myself.”

He smiled, tilting his head to the side. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

You made your introduction quick, trying your best not to stutter through your own name.

But he smiled, repeating it back to you in a melodic cadence.

“What… what should I call you?” You asked.

A certain softness entered his eyes. “Call me Kita.”

✧ ✧ ✧

“Would you like some?” Kita held the bento box out to you, tilting his head to the side.

You were sat across from him on the ground, safely shrouded by a wall so that no-one else would see the two of you. He’d implored you to sit with your legs crossed this time, and you’d complied.

But, you certainly weren’t comfortable enough to intrude. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to take away from your—”

“Please,” he nudged the box towards you. “You seem hungry.”

You tilted your head at him, unsure of how to respond.

“You’ve been glancing at my lunch ever since I opened it.”

“Oh.” You lowered your head, suddenly embarrassed. “Right.”

“Are they not feeding you?” Kita frowned, looking around the room.

He’d shown up, without any warning, while you were preparing omamori. Trying to explain to your superiors why such a piercing shriek ripped from your throat that didn’t involve the sudden appearance of this strange kitsune friend of yours had perhaps been the most challenging part of your entire miko experience.

“No, it’s not that!” You waved your hand at him. “They treat me quite well.”

“But you’re hungry.”

“I just… forgot to eat lunch, that’s all.” It was the truth – you were hungry only because of your own mindlessness.

Kita held the chopsticks out to you, placing the bento box on your lap. You took the chopsticks from him tentatively, giving him a half-bow. “Thank you.”

You picked up an inarizushi with the chopsticks, popping it into your mouth. Even just the feeling of food in your mouth gave you a sense of relief. You nodded at him again, smiling.

He smiled right back, his hands folded in his lap.

“Hey,” you swallowed, your gaze flitting downwards. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Thank you, Kita.” You gave him another small half-bow.

He blinked at you. He hadn’t expected hearing you say his name would make him feel so… odd. But, you’d said it just as she had, all those years ago, inflection and all.

“How are kitsunes born?” You asked, shovelling some rice into your mouth. It was the opposite of elegant, but Kita almost found it charming. Almost.

But, your question made him blush. “I… would prefer not to answer that.”

Your own cheeks burned in response. Maybe that was a bit too much. “Okay… how long have you been alive?”

“Do you remember how many tails I have?”

“Uh…” You frowned, trying to remember that very eventful day. “Four, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“So… four hundred years?” That’s what those many hours trawling the internet would indicate.

“And a half,” Kita smiled.

He’s just happy to be talking to someone. To be seen, heard, felt by someone.

He’d been warned against reaching out to people by some other yokai, but Kita had been unable to quell that curiosity. There was much delight to be found amongst humans and their lives, and Kita had always enjoyed observing them. And they really were delightful to speak to, whenever he could. Besides, was it not his duty as a spirit to maintain good relations between the two worlds?

But ever since she had passed away, he’d been reticent. He’d gained more understanding of where that advice came from. Advice that perhaps, came out of a profound sense of loss. Something he now understood much too well.

Maybe it’s foolish of him, sitting here and talking to you so frankly, simply because you looked just like her. Was this some kind of reincarnation? A coincidence? Maybe it was just a cruel trick of the universe – or an expression of its fundamentally uncreative and cyclical nature.

“That’s… a while,” you nodded slowly.

“Some kitsune may say that I’m barely an adult,” he chuckled.

“Really?” You frowned.

“I’ve much more life to live if I want to be considered wise,” he said.

You gazed off for a moment, blinking slowly. Four hundred years sounded like an awful long time to you, but… well, you weren’t immortal. And this man sitting with you likely was. An uncomfortable feeling crawled its way through your chest, your mind circling with thoughts and questions you didn’t feel quite ready to grapple with.

The conversation needed to move on.

You frowned, tapping your lips with the tip of the chopsticks. “Okay, so.”

“Yes?”

“What’s been your favourite decade to live in?”

He paused, doing some quick fact-checking in his mind. “The fifteen hundreds, I believe.”

“Why?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Kita murmured, looking away from you. How would he even begin to explain that? ‘I was in love with someone who looked and sounded exactly like you?’ He prized honesty, but perhaps that was too honest.

You blinked, biting your lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” He turned to give you a weak smile.

A tenuous silence stretched between you, and he almost regretted being so terse. Almost.

“Are other yokai real, too?” You asked, poking at the rice.

“Some of them.”

“Only some?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“If you ever get yourself a cat, you better keep an eye on its tail.”

You swallowed, unsure if he was joking or not. “Are… ghosts real?”

“Perhaps it’s best if you don’t know the answer to that question.”

“Uh…” You turned the thought over in your mind for a second. “I’m not sure.”

You turned your attention back to the inarizushi, popping a few more into your mouth and chewing away contentedly. After a few moments, you gestured to the bento box, your mouth full of food.

Kita nodded, holding his palm out.

You placed the chopsticks in his hand, blushing as your fingers brushed against his.

“Tell me about yourself,” he hummed, setting the bento box in his own lap.

You swallowed, your face growing hot. “There’s not really anything interesting to say.”

“Why did you choose to be a miko?”

“It’s just a part-time job,” you shrugged, playing with the fabric of your skirt.

“But you could have chosen from a whole range of jobs,” he persisted. “But you’re here. Why?”

You paused, turning the question over in your mind. “I don’t know… it seemed interesting?”

Kita nodded. “Why?”

“I… I guess I thought it would be a fun way to connect with the culture,” you shrugged. “Because it’s… very traditional.”

“Have you enjoyed yourself?”

“I have.” You could answer that question confidently, at least.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” he smiled softly.

“I should get back to work,” you sighed, rising to your feet.

“Be sure to take care of yourself,” he nodded, getting up himself. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

You cocked your head at him. “Huh?”

He shook his head. “Nevermind.”

Those were the words he’d say to her, all those years ago. Words that she never heeded as much as he wished she would.

But, he had to remind himself, time and time again.

You’re not her.

✧ ✧ ✧

“You’re very good at making those.” Kita sat on the floor next to you, watching as you arranged little omamori into the categories of a large wooden box.

“What, these?” You held one towards him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking it from you gently. He turned it over, the sky blue silk soft beneath his touch.

“Thank you,” you blushed

“I don’t recognise this colour,” he murmured. “What are they for?” He asked, deciding that he’d hold on to this little omamori. You’d made it yourself, after all.

“That one’s a love charm,” you nodded at his hand, smiling as you organised a set of gold silk rectangles. “Apparently they’re very popular during the New Year.” You pointed at another group of pink and blue charms in the box. “The one you’re holding is for single people, but these ones are for couples.”

He swallowed, turning it over in his hand. A love charm. She had made him one, all those years ago. Albeit, she had given it to him with a lot more intention.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tucking it into the sleeve of his kimono.

You grinned at him, eyeing his sleeve. “Hoping it’ll help you out?”

“I—” His cheeks bloomed red as heat crawled up his neck. Perhaps he’d been thinking about love more often, these days. But he wasn’t quite ready to process all of that. Was he so obvious?

“I’m just teasing,” you giggled.

He fought back the urge to pout. He was glad, at least, that you felt comfortable enough to say something like that. But, it saved him at least a little bit of embarrassment.

You’d been visiting him for the past few weeks, bringing him inarizushi every shift you’re in for.

And it made him so, so happy. He’s being seen. Being noticed. And, he liked talking to you. Maybe more than he should. More than he wanted to.

“When was the last time you’ve been to town?” You wondered, looking at him.

Kita frowned. “Uh… a couple hundred years, maybe?”

You gaped at him. “What?”

“Well, I…” He stopped, tilting his head at you. He didn’t quite know what to say. Yes, it had been a very long while, but he’d only just found the strength to open himself up to the human world like he once had. He’d been an observer for the past few centuries, but it had been quite a long while since he’d engaged like that. And besides; ‘town’ must be very, very different.

You scratched the back of your head. “Do you want to?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to go to town?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m going to a festival this Friday,” you said, smiling at him. “It’s nearly New Year’s.”

Oh, right. New Year’s.

Would you leave him, once the year turned over?

He swallowed the thought back. No, he wouldn’t think about that. He didn’t want to.

“Come with me on Friday,” you smiled, placing your hand on his shoulder.

Kita froze, feeling a certain kind of warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. A type of warmth he hadn’t felt since her. A type of warmth that was at once exhilarating and terrifying.

“It’ll be fun, I promise!” You beamed. If you’d noticed his reaction, you didn’t give him any indication.

“Okay,” he mumbled, suddenly much more interested in the omamori in his sleeve than before.

“Yay!” You clapped your hands together, your face full of joy. “I’ll see you Friday!”

Kita swallowed roughly. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. But he didn’t want to say no to you. Not when you were smiling at him like that.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Are you alright?”

Kita blinked, looking at you. “Hm?”

“You look… uncomfortable,” you said, tilting your head at him. “I mean, I think that’s discomfort on your face.”

He swallowed, looking down at the ground. “It’s just… there’s a lot of people.”

The two of you were stood at the edge of the crowd, just out of the light of the lanterns. Kita knew that there was going to be a large throng of people, but he hadn’t expected it to be so busy.

“We don’t have to go if it’s too much,” you smiled, folding your hands behind your back.

“No,” he shook his head. “I want to try.”

You nodded, looking over the crowd. “We’ll go when you’re ready, okay?”

Kita gazed at you for a moment. He was glad that you shared her kindness. But, it was also very much your own; a sense of compassion that you’d cultivated yourself.

He took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. A myriad of scents flooded his nose – lanterns burning, tea brewing, fish cooking. It was almost overwhelming, the entire area laced with such dense, powerful sensations.

“I’m ready,” he murmured, opening his eyes.

“Wonderful,” you cheered, hopping into the lamp light.

“Try not to get lost,” you said to him, glancing at him over your shoulder. Your face was bathed with golden lights, your eyes glittering in a way that made his heart ache.

Kita nodded, gazing over the crowd. There were so, so many people; more than he’d seen for centuries.

There was life in front of him. Humans, chatting, laughing, glowing. Each of them was a ripple, a reinterpretation of someone who had come before. But they were also individuals; people with their own lives, dreams, hearts.

Kita took your hand, an action taken partly on instinct, partly on desire. He didn’t want to lose you in this crowd, to watch you disappear into the mass of heads milling around the street and leave him alone. But he wanted to be close to you too. To feel your warmth.

You turned and smiled at him, and his heart felt light. Lighter than it’d felt for centuries.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew why.

He felt seen. Understood. No longer a ghost flitting between the corridors of a shrine, full of aimless yearning.

You were smiling at him with her face, her eyes. But, you were not her. No, you were someone else entirely – someone just as wonderful.

The feeling of your hand in his. A sharp memory, yet something new. Something that felt like a possibility.

This little affection, this small gesture, anchored him to the present. Even if just for a second, you chased away eternity.

#kita x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #kita x you #kita imagines #kita shinsuke x you #haikyuucreations #this one is unbeta'd please forgive hhhh

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laraplisetski · 3 years

Text

Dating Iwaizumi Hajime

A/n: This isnt related to the headcanons but I have this request for Seijoh’s libero and since I'm doing dating hcs for all of Seijoh by their jersey numbers. So anyways please wait a little bit longer as I might tag you in the dating hcs for Watari. Sorry for any mistakes tho.

Special announcement!

I just reached a hundred follows today! Thankyou for for following me and I'm so thankful for all the support. If I could, I would try to show more gratitude in any way.

Words: 1790

Tags: @imthatchishiyasimp, @kekozume

(These arms tho)

Iwaizumi routinely calls you something like baka or dumbass but he says it in good faith.

For example whenever you do something stupid Iwaizumi call you a dumbass.

But he doesn't mean it, it's just how he shows his worry.

He's just a big ass tsundere, you cannot tell me otherwise.

A lot of people think Iwaizumi would be a gentleman but like I feel like he would treat you like Oikawa but like way less harsher.

Like he would let you call him nicknames like ‘iWa-ChAn’ and just blush and call you dumbass.

*cough cough* tsundere *cough cough*

Also he's bad at giving compliments,

Like you'll be wearing nice clothes that really fit your form and he’ll really like you wearing them.

And you'll ask him if he likes your clothes, and hell just blush furiously grab your hand and just start walking.

‘Iwa, do you like what I wore today? It's my favorite outfit.’

‘Ye-yeah, we have to go, we'll miss our bus.’

One time you guys had a huge argument over this.

You feel insecure because he treated you more like Oikawa who was his best friend than his s/o.

He tried really hard after that to compliment you whenever you looked good.

(In his opinion you always did)

And you really appreciated him trying.

After that your bond grew stronger as both of you knew that you would be willing to for the other.

As your bond grew stronger the more you started to open up to him about your struggles.

Now Hajime isn't a very open person. (Well he is but he doesn't like to admit it.)

And he's a little brash and very straightforward with his feelings or his thoughts.

So when you're acting down he straight up asks you what's wrong and doesn't consider that you don't/wouldn't want to talk about it.

This might make you a little more agitated since you're already very sad but when he realizes that you don't want to talk about it, he immediately regrets it and apologies straight away.

One thing I love about Iwaizumi as a character is that he isn't afraid to tell the truth even if he knows he's in the wrong.

But these things only happened in the start of your relationship because when you two spend much more time together he starts to notice patterns in your behavior and how you act based on how you feel.

That really helps him to know if you're sad, angry or irritated at someone.

Later in the relationship, he knows when to comfort you, when to give you space and when to scold you.

You really appreciate this because he doesn't sugarcoat his words and he gives you advice that is honest and comes from his heart.

Moving on, let's talk about his friends.

By friends I mean Oikawa.

When Iwaizumi first got a s/o Oikawa was fuming because

‘wHo wOuLd DaRe taKe mY iWa-cHaN aWay frOm mE’

Iwa slapped him on the back of his head after he said that.

After that every time you would come to school, Oikawa would stick to Iwaizumi like a leech

(for comedic purposes of course)

Iwaizumi found it amusing at first how jealous you would be that Oikawa was getting all your boyfriends attention.

But then as time passed you started waving to Oikawa whenever he was sticking with Iwa and he started waving back.

After that you two developed a friendship.

You know what this means.

Hell for Iwaizumi has started.

So Iwaizumi would always walk you to class in the morning and you guys would sit with Oikawa for lunch.

Now that you're friends with Oikawa.

Ohoho, I'm sorry Iwa you have to suffer.

So you guys get along very well and Iwaizumi is very thankful for that because the two most important people (other than his family) are getting along.

It's fine for the first two weeks but then you and Oikawa develop this sibling-like bond.

It's almost identical to Iwa and Oikawa’s bond but because you share the same sense of humor Oikawa doesn't get teased.

Also one time Oikawa convinced you to call Hajime, Iwa-Chan for a day.

To say Iwaizumi was not pleased was an understatement.

The good thing is Oikawa got the bad end of it but it was worth it.

Also you guys eat lunch together and you and Oikawa keep making bad jokes and Iwaizumi has no choice but to sigh and deal with it, cause he loves both of you.

Poor iWa-ChAn.

You also tend to stick up for Oikawa during practices when the team is teasing him.

Due to you thinking of him as your little brother (It doesn't matter if you're older or younger Oikawa gives off major annoying little brother vibes.)

And the team cant rebel against you cause if they did Iwaizumi would murder them.

Other than that they absolutely love you cause you take care of the first and second years and keep them in line.

And you get along with Matsun and Makki and share memes with them.

Surprisingly Kyotani also respects you.

And he actually listens to your advice.

(Because of this Oikawa will whine about how no one respects him and goes on a rant and then you have to cheer him up while simultaneously giving everyone attention in the team.)

Being a team mom for Seijoh is very hard.

Also I feel like the reason Kyotani respected you when you became Iwa’s s/o was because you were Iwa’s s/o.

But now his view on you has changed.

He's very inspired by you and looks up to you.

He's always amazed by how you can be such a naturally caring person and be such a good leader and team player.

He also might come to you for advice if he had an argument with someone.

If you're a volleyball player as well and you're good, be ready for Kyotani following you around everywhere asking questions.

It's sort of endearing.

You and Iwa and Kyotani have this parent-son relationship and it's so wholesome I swear.

(Please adopt him.)

You do not only help keep the team in check you help them with matches too.

Like maybe getting their opponents videos for Oikawa.

You also sit down with the first and second years to watch their opponents videos and point out what seems peculiar and what not.

One time the person who usually took videos of the matches was unavailable so you went out of your way to do it yourself.

When Iwa found out he hugged you really tight and had this proud look in his eyes.

I bet when Oikawa found out he just clung to you and started full on crying.

(You're basically their manager at this point.)

Also when the team found out that you taped it yourself and all that, their respect from you went out the roof.

Now you are a goddess among them.

(Kyotani literally be looking at you with star eyes)

Enough about the team tho

Let's get back to Iwa and you.

You always try to be sneaky and steal his clothes but he catches you midway trying to sneak one of his jumpers out.

But he lets you have them anyways cause you look fucking cute in them.

Whenever he sees you wearing his clothes this man just blushes like 50 shades of red.

(I'm sorry pun wasn’t intended)

But anyways what I'm trying to say is that he blushes a deep red and basically just becomes a stuttering mess.

You like kiss him on the cheek like this once and he's putty in your hands.

I'm not even kidding.

Also Iwa’s pretty muscular so no matter how long you are his hoodies will always be loose on you in some way.

(sorry muscular people)

And Iwa finds it so cute like

His s/o in his hoodie that's all loose on them.

Just like internally crying at that point.

Also mind you Iwaizumi loves back hugs like.

Imagine you are wearing one of his articles of clothing and you just casually back hug him.

Man will short circuit but will never admit he likes them because hes a

Tsundere~~

But this might just be my love of back hugs talking who knows.

When he doesn't have practice he usually stays at home and cuddles with you or you have movie nights with Tooru but that is rare cause he has to take care of his cousin.

But you guys just calmly cuddle and no one is really speaking.

Just basking in each other's presence and being comfortable in each other's company.

Sometimes one of you falls asleep and the other just strokes their fingers through their hair.

It's basically the same when he comes back from practice but the only difference is that he takes off his shirt and you massage his strong muscles with some oil.

After that y'all cuddle but you're blushing the entire time because like Iwaizumi’s shirtless excuse me!

‘And this bitch just goes,

‘Take a picture it'll last longer’

Like what, how do you expect yourself not to short circuit.

And curse you Oikawa, you don't have to teach him the ways of flirting.

Usually you wouldn't react to that type of comment but he's shirtless and now you're putty in his hands.

So you both are like beans.

Also I'm like a hundred percent sure Iwaizumi is a big spoon.

He just loves caging you in his arms and making sure you feel protected.

It also keeps him very grounded and just honestly happy to have you there with him.

There was this one incident in which you and Oikawa were bantering and Iwaizumi wasn't having any of it so he picked you up and threw you on his shoulder. And walked away like nothing happened.

After that you guys sort of had an impromptu make out session in the club room, which was unfortunately interrupted by Kindaichi barging in.

Bless him.

And his eyes.

You and Iwaizumi had to sit him down and make him swear to not tell anyone.

After that you two continued but Kindaichi might've accidentally spilled to Kunimi

Opps.

Bonus points

Iwaizumi likes to buy purple hyacinths for you on valentines day because it's your favorite flower and to also say sorry for when he was not boyfriend like in the beginning of your relationship.

(Yes I referenced Purple Hyacinth the webtoon, go watch it)

Also the team has a custom made Seijoh jacket, just for you!

And the first time you saw it you just hugged Iwaizumi and started sobbing because these boys were too precious and just too pure. (I love Seijoh)

The end.

#haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwazumi x reader #iwaizumi prompt #iwaizumi headcanons #iwaizumi dating hc #x reader #xreader #x gender neutral reader #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#Haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu prompts #haikyuu headcanons #anyways #bye😃

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bleachluna · 3 years

Text

Letters

Ended up skipping day 2 of @hitsukarinweek as I had no ideas for it but here’s my fic for day 3! Also on AO3

Dear Toshiro,

Can you please explain to me how the hell Soul Society managed to copy mobile phones from humans, and even put hollow tracking technology in them, but didn't make them able to send stuff across realms? I know you explained that SS phones in soul society can only contact those in soul society, and when they're here in the human world they can only contact those here, but I only realised how ridiculously stupid that is until after you left. What if there's an emergency and you need to contact someone across realms for whatever reason? Surely you need to get this fixed, I cannot believe if I want to talk to you I'm stuck writing letters like it's the 1800s. I'm even writing more formally than I expected, apparently letter writing brings it out of me and I absolutely hate it. You've gotta fix it. Not to mention I'm not a fan of leaving letters for Urahara to pass on for me, I'm not totally convinced he won't read them.

Anyway, it's been a couple of months since I saw you last. That's probably a good thing, that a captain hasn't been needed here, but I'll admit I wonder about you sometimes, I hope everything is ok on your end! I don't know what it was about turning sixteen but all of a sudden all of this stuff about trying to figure out careers is on me constantly. Yuzu figured out years ago that she wanted to go into healthcare, she took to it way back when we were kids. She was originally planning to go into nursing but her grades have improved a lot recently, she might be a doctor instead, but she's also thinking about midwifery. So there's stuff she's gotta figure out for sure, but at least she knows what area she wants to go into? I don't even have that. I mean how do you figure out what to do with the rest of your life when you're sixteen? I haven't even figured myself out yet. How did you decide to become a shinigami?

Other than that though things are ok. School is a little stressful because grades suddenly feel so much more important, but the work's manageable at least. Hollow level seems to be stable at the minute too which is great, one less thing to worry about! And Urahara improved his reiatsu blocking bracelet thing, I've had this one for almost four months and it hasn't broken so even less chance of getting eaten! Always a plus. But anyway, I hope things are good on your end as well, and that you aren't buried up to your ears in paperwork. Let me know if you ever have any plans to pop up in the human world!

Best Wishes,

Karin

P.S. - I sent this on the 22nd of June, let me know when this gets to you/when you send yours, I wanna know what sort of delivery time we're looking at here.

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

I don't even remotely have the skills or know-how to fix something like that, that's what the Research & Development Team is for. I agree it's a little daft that our mobile phones can't send things across realms, but I'm sure said team knows this and is likely working on it, as you said, it would be unfortunate in an emergency situation. Plus I know Urahara can be a little eccentric, but do you really think he'd read the letters? I'm sure it's fine.

It is a good thing I've not been needed, the last thing Karakura needs is more trouble and destruction. Have they managed to rebuild that major bridge you were talking about yet? Everything is alright here, or at least in my division anyway. I've been kept busy recently, a set of students graduated from the academy last month so I've had 18 new recruits to introduce to squad 10. As for the careers stuff, I honestly assumed from the work you did here and there for the clinic that you were interested in healthcare as well, I take it that's not actually the case then? Do you at least have rough ideas of the sort of thing you'd want to go into? I'm not sure I'll be much help in that respect, I can't wrap my head around half of the jobs that seem to exist in the human world. In some ways I had it easier, the choice was out of my hands. My reiatsu was getting stronger and Hyorinmaru came to me before I even knew what was happening, I needed to go to the academy to make sure my reiatsu didn't become dangerous, therefore I became a shinigami. I never had to wonder what to do with myself in terms of employment.

I'm glad to hear things are going well with you, I'm certainly glad to hear you don't have to worry as much about the bracelet breaking. Is your reiatsu still increasing? If it's stabilising that might be part of why this new bracelet is managing better. I know you're not particularly interested in getting involved with shinigami stuff, which frankly I agree with, but if your reiatsu is still increasing I do think it's worth training you to hide it properly. I am unfortunately always at least a little buried in paperwork, particularly recently with the new recruits, but it's manageable. I don't think I'll be in the human world soon, but I will let you know if I plan to.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

P.S. - I got your letter on the 2nd of July, I should be handing this letter over to be sent on the 4th, schedule permitting.

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Well I hope you make sure that the research team are working on it, because this really is ridiculous. And you're kidding right? I trust Urahara about as far as I can throw him, which is probably all of three feet.

The bridge is still being rebuilt, but I think they're in the last stages now thank god. All the diversions needed really messed with the traffic, maybe I can finally stop leaving the house half an hour earlier just to get to my soccer club. It's supposed to be twenty minutes max by bus and it's been taking easily twice that. Let me know if you find out which shinigami it was that released their zanpakuto on that bridge, I have some choice words for them.

An entire class of students graduated and you only got 18 newbies at the tenth? Was it a small class or is that the normal kind of numbers you see? I assumed there's like, thousands and thousands of shinigami, is there less than I thought? Is that why I only ever see you and Rukia besides the dude who's currently stationed here? And I don't know about going into healthcare, that's my whole problem! I don't know what I want. Healthcare is fine but I don't feel like it's my life purpose to go into it either so yeah, I don't know. Healthcare would be alright, sports would be cool maybe? But I don't think there's a whole lot of sports careers outside of professional (which is definitely not happening) or teaching, and I'm not convinced I'm the teacher type. I just don't seem to have this strong urge to go in a particular direction like Yuzu does. But wow, I didn't know that, you basically HAD to train to be a shinigami? I didn't know that was a thing that could happen, that your reiatsu can go that far on its own. That kind of sucks though doesn't it? That you had no choice? I hope you enjoy being a shinigami at least.

To be honest I think my reiatsu probably is still going up. I don't think it's as quick as it was before, it's settled a little bit, probably because there hasn't been much danger around recently, but I do think it's still inching up. Is that a huge issue? Obviously it became a huge issue with you so now I'm kinda nervous. I'm not gonna get kidnapped into the shinigami am I? I can train to hide my reiatsu without actually becoming a shinigami right? Frankly I trust you more on this than Urahara. And you better let me know in advance if you can, Yuzu says she wants to make you those dumplings you liked again.

Best Wishes,

Karin

P.S. - I got excited at first thinking that sending these took less than two weeks, that didn't seem that bad considering we're sending them via Urahara whenever someone comes through realms, but then your letter took almost a month to come, it arrived on the 27th :( I'm handing this letter over on the 28th.

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

The Research & Development Team is not under my command, they belong to the twelfth, I cannot make sure that they're working on it, but I shall ask at the next opportunity I get. I think you're selling yourself short, I'm sure you could get at least five feet, but I do see your point, I can't say I fully trust him either, not on an individual basis anyway. I trust him to want the best for everybody, and to work towards that, but I don't think he pays attention to what that means for the individuals in the situation. More of a 'the end justifies the means' sort of person from what I've heard. And I'm afraid I have no idea who it was who damaged the bridge, but given they were fighting a powerful hollow at the time I imagine it was the correct course of action. Better on the bridge than in the middle of town.

I get the impression there is less shinigami than you think. Most squads have just over two hundred or so members, so 18 new recruits is actually a pretty good year. As for why you only really see me or Vice-Captain Kuchiki, it's a combination of needing a strong enough shinigami to deal with the sort of problems that crop up in Karakura, while also needing said shinigami to have a vague clue on how to navigate the human world. Vice-Captain Kuchiki presumably has rather extensive knowledge having lived in the human world for months, and I've been known to visit for years so they know I'm alright with being there as well. I think it's alright to not have an idea of a 'life's purpose' when you're in your second year of high school. Maybe just pick something for now as a sort of in-between while you continue working out what it is you want? Sometimes a job is just a job after all. You could always try a career in sports and see how it goes if it interests you now, and switch later on? I'm sure you'll figure something out. I'll admit I was definitely reluctant to train as a shinigami at first, it was never something I wanted originally, so it was hard to deal with to begin with I suppose, but I don't mind it these days. It's stressful, but at least I'm doing something where I'm trying to keep people safe, that suits me well enough.

Unfortunately yes, in my case my reiatsu continuously going up was an issue, but I don't think it's as serious with you. Firstly, you've not got a zanpakuto knocking on your subconscious as far as I know (the telltale giveaway is weird dreams where someone/something is trying to talk to you and tell you it's name, in case you were worried about that), and the people around you aren't vulnerable. You're unlikely to cause issues with your reiatsu because everyone around you has some degree of spiritual power already. As for the other questions, I certainly hope you won't be kidnapped into the shinigami, and I don't think your brother or even Urahara would let that happen, but it's possible you'll get Soul Society's attention if it keeps going unchecked. Of course with Urahara keeping on eye on it and keeping the reiatsu blocking bracelet on you, I'd argue that it's largely taken care of and shouldn't get other shinigami on you. There isn't much shinigami training you can do without becoming a shinigami, but you can learn to withdraw and hide your reiatsu even as a human so don't worry about that. I would say to ask your brother but he's never been very good at controlling his, Urahara is your other option, or possibly Vice-Captain Kuchiki if she's around. Or if those don't work out and your reiatsu gets to a point where you're truly worried about it let me know, I'll train you in it myself if it comes to it. Also, I appreciate the thought but your sister doesn't need to go to trouble like that for me.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

P.S. - I got your letter on the 17th of August. I think it's safe to say they take anywhere from over a week to just under a month to arrive each time.

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Let me know what the research team says! If they say they're not working on it please heavily suggest that they do, and if they say they are working on it, please ask how long they think it'll take them. Just think how much easier communicating would be if we could just call each other. The end justifies the means is EXACTLY Urahara's vibe, which is exactly why I don't really trust him. So yeah, it wouldn't even remotely surprise me if he's been reading these the entire time, better to assume the worst and be pleasantly surprised than the other way around. I suppose you have a point about the bridge being a better location than in the middle of a bunch of people, I'll put up with inconvenient travel times over unnecessary death.

Only a little over two hundred per squad? There is less than I thought! That's way less than your average university over here, that's crazy! 18 newbies is good in that case, your squad must be pretty popular. And no wonder I only really ever see you or Rukia, you guys clearly need to work on getting more people up to the speed with the human world or you're gonna end up over-worked! I guess I could just go for sports now and switch later? I don't know, you kinda get it into your head that you've gotta figure out what you want and stick to it, but I guess there's nothing actually stopping me from changing paths later. Once school goes back in I'm gonna get a meeting and talk to the careers lady, see what she says. I'm glad you're alright with being a shinigami now, hopefully it isn't stressful too much of the time.

Well, I'll take your word for it, you know more than me on this but I'm still kinda wary. You're right that there's no zanpakto trying to get my attention so far at least so that's something. If I do get kidnapped by the shinigami I'm trusting you to break me back out, but yeah that is kind of the whole point of the bracelet, that it blocks off my reiatsu from others so hollows can't find me so easily (and shinigami apparently, yeesh) so hopefully this won't actually be an issue. I don't really want to ask Urahara to train me but I will if I have to I guess. Asking Rukia's a good idea though! I'll ask whenever she next pops up, she seems like she'd be good at that sort of thing, maybe that'll solve this whole situation. Or you know, you, if you happen to come sooner, whoever comes to the human world next I guess! I'd feel better knowing that I myself could do the thing the bracelet's doing. Although I do have a question, how do you do it in your sleep? Or is it not possible and you're just vulnerable a third of the time? That seems unfortunate. Also you're kidding right? Cooking is the primary way my sister shows her care and affection, if she wants to cook for you there's no stopping her so you can at least give us notice so we can get ingredients and stuff.

Best Wishes,

Karin

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

I will let you know what the research team says as soon as it actually comes up. I can see your point, I suppose it is better to plan for the worst and be pleasantly surprised otherwise. Good to see you have your priorities in order, is the bridge finally finished though?

I remember being surprised by the size of your high school, I assume universities are even bigger? Must be an administrative nightmare to keep track of all those students, I feel like I can have a hard enough time with the 226 members I have. Squad 10 was surprisingly popular this year, the only other squads who had numbers like that were the sixth and the eleventh, both of which always have high numbers. We did have 'human world' classes at the academy at one point, but they ended up being scrapped a decade or so ago, any information learned was rendered almost completely obsolete within a few years, meaning the stuff the students learned was more or less useless by the time they were actually getting stationed in the human world. These days we just give a brief information pack about the human world before they leave, currently being updated semi-regularly by Vice-Captain Kuchiki. Meeting with a staff member whose job it is to deal with career pathways certainly sounds like a good idea, I hope it goes well if it hasn't already taken place.

Once again, I certainly hope Soul Society would try such a thing, it would be incredibly stupid considering I don't think your brother, who damn near took on the whole of Soul Society and pretty much came out on top, would ever let you get kidnapped in the first place. And I'm fairly sure me, a captain, breaking out someone Soul Society captured is probably considered treason of some kind, but I can promise I'll be in your corner one way or another. Not to mention, I don't think most shinigami would be prepared for you anyway, most are too used to sword combat, I don't think the average shinigami would handle your hand to hand very well. I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about. As for hiding your reiatsu in your sleep, generally speaking you just practice it enough that it becomes second nature, most shinigami do it subconsciously after a while, including in sleep, although nightmares and the like can interfere a little bit. Your sister has met me what, three times? She feels strongly enough to cook for me? It really is unnecessary although I'm sure the thought is kind. I did say I'd give you notice if I came to the human world though, our sensors are showing an increase in hollow activity in Karakura recently. We're currently just monitoring, we're holding off for now as it might be temporary, but if it gets worse I'm coming to monitor the situation properly and to make sure no incidents happen with the hollow increase. Judging from the current rate, if it keeps going as is I'll probably be there in two weeks or so. With any luck this letter will arrive before I do but if not, I'll make sure to meet up with you somewhere.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Your letter got here super quick, less than a week after I sent mine! Looks like there's increased shinigami activity to match the hollow activity, which boy, you're not kidding that its increased. My reiatsu's jumped up again and I couldn't tell you if it was a response to all the hollows around, or that the hollows arrived because of me. I really hope it's the former. Hopefully you'll be here soon! I think I could do with the training sooner rather than later and if I'm being honest I'd feel safer. But anyway, in response to your letter:

The bridge is actually finished! Just in time for the increased hollows to fuck it up again I'm sure! Most universities are like 10,000 to 30,000 easy, and I think some are bigger than that? So yeah, only two hundred or so shinigami per squad is insane to me. I'm pretty sure the universities have whole administrative teams just for the purpose, does your squad have an admin person at all or is it just you? When I first found out about the shinigami I didn't think I'd sit here wondering about the bureaucracy of it all but here I am. Oh wow I would've loved to sit in one of those human world classes, would've been hilarious I bet. At least you give newly stationed people something, I imagine the culture shock must be a bit much, I'm sure Rukia's information is very accurate given how much time she's spent here. And the careers meeting is actually in two days, I kinda nervous about it to be honest, but hopefully it'll be helpful.

Well I suppose when you put it that way Soul Society kidnapping me would very much be poking the bear huh? I'm extremely saddened to hear that you wouldn't commit treason for me though, what kind of friendship is this??? But I suppose I'll take comfort in you being 'in my corner one way or another', whatever that means. Does it mean in the event of soul society kidnapping me and forcing me to be a shinigami you'd immediately put me in your squad? That's the vibe I'm getting. But that's good to know about the hand to hand combat and the reiatsu withdrawing while still asleep, I'll bear those both in mind. As for your potential visit, given hollows seem to be popping up left right and centre I'm assuming you're probably coming in a week or so, I'll look out for your arrival! I get the impression this letter isn't going to get to you before you arrive in the human world but just in case it does I'll let you know, Yuzu added the dumpling ingredients onto her shopping list. That means you've gotta be at our house for at least one dinner! Consider it repayment for the training I'm gonna demand from you.

Hope you get here safe,

Karin

#hitsukarin #hitsukarinweek #hitsukarinweek2021 #toshiro hitsugaya #karin kurosaki #bleach #my writing #once again strongly recommend reading this on the blog itself or ao3 #the dash formatting is not great and this is a little under 4k

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

Text

Photographs

a/n: i was in some feels and this came out. childhood friends to lovers is a classic and never goes out of style, folks. also, italics are flashbacks.

“You gonna do the photo wall last?” Matthew asked you as he finished taping up another box.

You weren’t exactly sure at what point in you life you’d accumulated this much stuff that needed to be packed. Your childhood bedroom was like a memory capsule for your entire childhood, starring the Tkachuk family more than your own. You grew up two houses down from them your entire life, until Matty went to the OHL and you went to college soon after. Summers together kept your families close. The Tkachuks were family as far as your parents were concerned and you were a part of theirs too.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “It feels too, I don’t know, final to take it down.”

“Well, you guys are moving away forever,” Matty reminded you, “because you hate me.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, a joking tone strong in your voice. “Glad you finally understand how intolerable you are and that you’ve finally forced us out of St. Louis even though you’re in Calgary over half of year.”

“My powers of annoyance are strong.” Matthew bowed with his palms pressed together at his heart in a fake zen manner, earning an eye-roll from you. “Only took our entire lives, but I finally annoyed you into getting the hell away of me.”

“Oh please. You would’ve never learned to tie your shoes without me,” you chided him, walking towards him to give him a smack on the way and grab yet another candle off your desk.

“Pretty sure this photo,” Matt grabbed a photo from high up on your covered wall to bring it down, “was taken that day? Damn close to it anyway.”

You snatched the photo from him, smiling as you looked it over. You and Matthew were sitting next to each other in the plastic turtle sandbox that was still somewhere in your backyard, filled with rain water instead of sand these days, and roughly four years old. Matthew’s shoes were untied, as they pretty much always were at that age, and his arms were around your neck. You both were sporting wide, face-breaking smiles. Matthew has a ton of sand in his curls, a product of his inability to tie his shoes that had led to him face planting on the sandbox a few moments before this photo was taken.

“Matty!” you shouted as the little boy fell into the sandbox face first. “Your shoe is untied.”

“Mom isn’t here,” Matty replied after picking his curly head up out of the sand. “I can’t tie them.”

“I can! I’ll show you!”

Matthew looked at you with his brows furrowed and a pout on his face.

“I don’t need a girl to help me,” he said firmly as he flipped himself over in the sand so he was laying on his back. “Besides, you have cooties.”

“You have cooties!” you shouted back, “And my mom says girls can do whatever guys can do so ha.”

You stuck your tongue out and Matty did the same in reply. You stuck your tongue out as far as it could go and put your hands on your hips to try and look scarier. Matty put his thumbs behind his ears and spread his palms out wide and waggled his fingers in every direction in response.

“Meanie,” you mumbled, giving him your best pissed off face, as good as a four-year-old could do. “Let me teach you!”

“Okay, fine,” Matty muttered back, “but don’t touch me. You definitely have cooties.”

“You were so cute,” you said as you flipped the photo around to him. “What happened to you? Did you get smacked with the ugly hockey stick.”

“You’re one to talk,” Matty chirped back. “When did the resting bitch face start? Pretty sure that’s the root of all your problems in the looks department.”

“My soul is now accurately reflected in my appearance. It’s a trick to ward off men,” you countered without missing a beat.

“Well, it definitely works,” Matthew laughed, earning a shove from you.

Your eyes wandered back to the photo wall, landing on a photo of you and Matthew and Brady from when you were seven. You snagged it off the wall and showed it to Matty.

“Remember this one?” you asked him

He nodded, a smile forming on his lips as he took the photo from you. You, Matthew, and Brady were arm in arm, elbows linking you together. You were in a pale yellow dress with a flower crown and the boys were in tuxedos and top hats. You had been the flower girl and they had been joint ring bearers for a wedding of someone else in the neighborhood. The photographer had thought the three of you on dance floor, spinning around linked at the elbows, was too precious not the capture. This photo was still framed on your parent’s hutch, or it had been until your mom packed it the other day.

“Brady! Spin faster!”

Your voice was high and bright, filled with laughter as you spun around in your twirly dress on the dance floor.

“I’m trying!” Brady shouted back at you. “I’m not as big as you guys.”

“Faster!” you egged him on, the ribbons on your flower crown almost whipping him in the face with each turn.

“Yeah, Brady, keep up!” Matthew added in from your left side.

“I’m trying!” Brady shouted again, practically tripping over his feet to keep up with you and Matty.

“You just wanted to spin around and around and around,” Matthew laughed as he remembered that night. “You kept yelling at Brady because he wouldn’t spin fast enough.”

“I was a girl on a mission and he was slowing me down,” you shrugged unapologetically.

“Pretty much describes our entire childhood right there,” Matthew replied, his eyes shifting to your photo wall. He smiled, having found something that interested him and he plucked it off the wall. “Do you remember this one?”

You rolled your eyes when he showed you the photo. Of course he’d pick this one. It was from Matthew’s ninth birthday party. You and Matthew both had your cheeks tinged a dark pink since you’d just left the bounce castle the Tkachuks had rented for the party. You were both laughing, toothless smiles on show for all to see. You didn’t have an issue with this photo other than the fact that it was a physical reminder of the worst haircut you’d ever had.

“You need to go low when you go down, then you’ll bounce higher,” Matthew told you, even though you hadn’t asked for his advice.

“I’m doing that,” you huffed out between jumps.

On your next jump, you let yourself fall back and lay down at the bottom of the bounce castle. Matthew paused with you, flopping down next to you so you bounced up in the air again, making you laugh.

“I’m gonna get a Capri Sun,” you told him as you sat up and started to crawl your way to the exit.

“Capri Sun!” Matthew shouted, hot on your heels out of the bounce castle. “Strawberry Kiwi or bust!”

He ran past you as soon as his feet hit the grass, making a beeline for the cooler that contained your favorite beverages. Matthew tipped open the top and stuck his hands deep into the ice in search for what he wanted. He emerged victorious before you even reached him.

“I want strawberry kiwi,” you mumbled.

Matty, who was already about to puncture the pouch with, paused before he extend the pouch out to you instead.

“I’ll get another one,” he told you with a shrug, before plunging his hands back into the cooler.

“The bangs though,” Matthew nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. “How did your mom let you do that?”

“I think I just kept pushing and she got sick of telling me no,” you sighed, shaking your head softly. “How did my cheeks look that chubby? I don’t understand.”

Matthew looked at you as a smile started to form on his lips. He reached out and pinched both of your cheeks before you could protest. You slapped his wrists hard to get him to release your cheeks, but you were both laughing so hard you couldn’t fake anger.

“They’re still kind of pudgy,” he told you through his laughter. “You grew into them though and you still have your own portable nut storage. Oh, that sounds bad now.”

“Wanna take that back?” you asked him with a raise of one eyebrow.

“Yes, I would like to formally rescind that statement,” Matthew said

“Consider it struck from the,” you grabbed another photo off the wall, “record.”

“Oh jeez, thanks for picking that one,” Matthew said, sarcasm dripping from each word when he saw the photo

“You picked my bad hair year. Only natural I pick yours next,” you laughed as you looked over the photo.

You and Matthew were at one of the local hockey rinks. Him and Brady had probably played at ever rink within a hundred-mile radius of St. Louis growing up, so it was hard to tell which one. Matthew had just come off the ice, still in all of his gear except for his helmet which was tossed at his feet. You looked like you had just walked straight out a Hollister ad and you had picked the neon pink bands for your braces, but Matthew still looked worse. His cheeks were bright pink from all the skating he’d done and he was in the middle of an awkward phase for sure, but it was his hair that sealed the deal. It was too long and he didn’t really learn until you taught him a few years after this photo was taken how to take care of his curls, so they were just incredibly puffy and not in a cute way. He looked like his hair had been teased with at least five different combs until it was a large and frizzy as possible, not a single actual curl managing to escape the frizz.

“Just one photo together!” your mom told you, pushing you closer to Matthew.

“Mom,” you whined and trying to resist her push, but you knew better than to cross her.

You shuffled over to stand next to Matthew. Your hands balled into fists at your sides, holding the ends of your sweatshirt sleeves in your fists. Matthew sighed and shifted his stick to his opposite hand to make space for you next to him.

“You smell,” you told him.

“You always smell, but I’m nice enough not to say anything. Maybe you should learn some manners,” he threw back at you.

You almost squinted your eyes closed in anger, but decided to do one better. You smiled brightly, confusing Matthew when you didn’t insult him back. Your mom and his mom both had their cameras out, each taking a different side to make sure they got one good photo between the two of them, except that wasn’t in the cards that day. The exact moment your mother told you both to say cheese, you gave Matthew a surprise shove with all of your might. He was bigger, but you had surprise on your side and down he went, onto his butt for all to see. You laughed and pumped your fists in the air upon seeing your plan executed perfect. Matthew just glared at you from the ground.

The photo in your hands captured both of your faces the moment you realized he was going down. Matthew’s face showed shock and horror, the future chirps of how he got pushed by a girl clearly flashing before his eyes. Your expression could only be described as absolute elation.

“You know what they say,” you giggled. Matthew looked at you with an eyebrow raised, waiting for your response. “The higher the hair, the closer to God.”

“You still smell,” Matthew told you, a glint in his eyes telling you his was just trying to get a rise out of you.

For old time’s sake, you stuck your tongue out at him. He just laughed in response before turning his attention back to the wall. His light blue eyes scanned over several photos before he found one that brought a smile to his face. He plucked it off the wall and presented it to you.

“You know, twelve years old was your worst time. Nine was my worst, but I think fourteen was our joint worst,” you sighed, shaking your head softly as you looked at the photo.

Freshmen year homecoming, before Matthew was sucked into the junior national development team. He was for some reason wearing a red vest, white button up, a bowtie, and black dress pants. Not exactly a fashion forward look. You were in a dress that your mom had definitely encouraged you to buy. It was silver, had silver glittery polkadots over the entire thing, and flared out at the worst possible spot on your body, making you look a good twenty pounds heavier than you were. The pose of the photo made the awkwardness you both had felt then come right off the photo and back into your bodies now. You shuttered as you remembered the circumstances for the photo.

“Matthew, just stand behind her and put your arms around her,” his mom encouraged, but there was an annoyed edge to her voice, like she was teetering just over the edge of exploding. “Just this one photo and then you can be done.”

“We’re not dates, Mom,” Matthew complained, his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re not going the dates pose.”

“Matthew Tkachuk,” was all his mother had to say in a firm tone and his arms flew around you.

You knew your smile was uncomfortable as you did it, but it was the best you could muster given that your best friend who you couldn’t remember not knowing currently had his arms around you. You swallowed hard at the feeling of his arms around your stomach and you started to sweat a little. You tried to attribute it to the weather, but it was fall in St. Louis, so that mental excuse didn’t work. You were nervous, but you couldn’t figure out why. Matthew had never jumped away from you faster than he did once his mom said she had the photo she wanted.

“Moms,” Matthew sighed, a pained expression still on his face. “So embarrassing.”

“Right?” you replied, laughter edging at your voice to try and lighten the situation.

Why were you nervous? It was just Matthew.

That’s when your almost decade-long crush on Matthew had started. Or at least, that’s the first moment you could remember feeling anything for him more than friendship. The feelings had only grown stronger with each passing year since then, but you knew better than to ever bring them up. Honestly, your parents moving away to their forever retirement home in Florida was sort of a relief. You wouldn’t seen Matthew every time you came home and now maybe you could finally shake this crush that had ebbed and flowed, but never stopped, for the past eight years.

“The dress was a bad move,” Matthew chuckled, drawing you back to the conversation.

“Hey, I wouldn’t exactly call the outfit you’re wearing something you should bring back for your next event,” you retorted.

“My outfit should come back before that dress and that’s really saying something,” he replied, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he looked at you.

You turned your attention back to the wall, not able to hold eye contact with him for longer than a few moments at a time without blushing you. You grabbed a more recent photo, the first of many on your wall starring a Calgary Flames jersey.

“Draft day,” you informed him as you turned the photo towards him. He smiled softly at the memory as so did you.

The Tkachuks had insisted on you coming. You were family, so you were coming to Matt’s Draft Day. It was decided for you, as was your plane ticket there. It just showed up in your email one day and the the only discussion the Tkachuks had allowed about it was if you were going to the airport with them or if your mom would be dropping you off. When you saw Matthew get drafted to his top choice team, gratitude to Matt’s parents for making sure you didn’t miss this moment instantly flooded you. Matthew’s eyes were bright and he had one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen when he turned towards you after he hugged Taryn.

“You did it!” you smiled at him as he leaned in for his hug.

He was so much broader now then he used to be. The year in the OHL and another year around the sun had done him good in that department. His hugs enveloped you now, pulling you in tight to his chest as his arms circled around your shoulders.

“Thank you,” Mathew whispered to you, his hot breath against your ear combined with his lips just grazing it making your heart race, “for being my friend this whole time, even though I’m the worst sometimes.”

“Always,” you assured him as you gave him an extra tight squeeze before letting him go to make his way to the stage to put on that jersey for the first of thousands of times.

“Props to you for finding this photo on the internet,” Matthew told you, tapping the photo softly with the tip of his index finger.

“I hated all of the group photos from Draft Day. My face looked weird that day,” you replied with a shrug.

The photo was of that very hug in the stands of the arena where he’d been drafted. You’d ripped it from some article about him falling to sixth in the draft because he was supposed to go fourth. You’d been thrilled when he’d started falling a little in that moment. You knew he wanted to go to Calgary, even though it hadn’t been the most likely destination for him according to the experts.

“Your face did not look weird,” Matthew told you, his brows furrowing down in confusion. “Women.”

You hit his shoulder with the photo, making him laugh, before dropping it onto your desk with the others. You grabbed your water bottle and took a couple of swigs from it before offering it out to Matthew, an old habit that wouldn’t die. On instinct, he took it and drank a few sips.

“I have my own water,” he said mostly to himself as he closed it and put it back on the desk.

“Mom always said you didn’t look like you drank enough water, so I always gave you some of mine when I drank any,” you explained to him, even though you’d definitely been over this before.

“Old habits, huh?” he chuckled a little. “Can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“I mean, I could be back,” you sighed as you shuffled over to sit on the edge of your bed. “I don’t exactly have a job yet. That’s the only reason I’m going, you know that.”

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly applying to a ton of jobs in St. Louis,” Matthew replied, annoyance obvious in his voice. “I’m never going to see you anymore if you’re not here when I’m home.”

“I’ll come visit,” you assured him. “Amigos for life. You know that.”

Matthew waved you off. You both knew that you not living in St. Louis to be here for Matthew’s off season was going to impact your friendship. Would you ever stop being friends? Definitely not, but you wouldn’t be able to walk two doors and see him anymore, like you’d been able to do for your entire life.

His eyes were back on the photo wall when you heard a soft chuckle escape him. He yanked a photo off near the bottom of your photo wall, a more recent addition. Matthew spun on his heels to turn to face you with the photo exposed. Your nose scrunched up in mild disgust when you saw the photo he’d picked. Matthew had taped that photo up himself because he insisted it was one of the best you two had ever taken. You disagreed, but he pulled out a ‘You Owe Me’ to make sure it made the wall.

You and Matthew were absolutely trashed in the photo. It was from his twenty-first birthday party. Your mascara and eyeliner were running a little from sweat due to the club you were in. Matthew’s curls were frizzy from the heat and he had a beer in his hand. One of his arms was throw around your neck, crushing you into his side and his other arm was pointed out towards the camera, throwing a drunken peace sign in spite of the beer in his hand. You were both laughing at the camera. You were both absolute messes, but you were so happy that night, you remembered.

“It’s my fucking birthday!” Matthew screamed before he tilted his beer back against his lips and emptied the full bottle down his throat in a few swigs. “Let’s fucking go!”

You followed his lead, downing your beer a little less gracefully, some foam spilling down your chin, and a little more slowly, but you got the whole thing down, earning a cheer from Matthew and a few surrounding friends. Matthew disappeared for a few seconds to grab another beer from the bar for both of you, depositing it into your hand before the one you chugged had even settled.

“You know, you look really good tonight,” Matthew told you.

Your cheeks immediately flushed. You could feel the heat rising. Thankfully, this place was packed and you’d just chugged a beer, so Matthew couldn’t directly attribute it to him. He never complimented you like that. It was the alcohol talking, you decided.

“Thanks.” You took a sip of your beer to try and disguise the awkwardness you were feeling before continuing, “Uh, you too, birthday boy.”

Matthew smiled a lazy smile at you before throwing an arm around your neck and pulling you in. He dropped his lips to your ear and started to say something, but then the cameraman hired by the club showed up and insisted on talking photos of you two. You wondered what Matthew had been about to say, because once the guy had left, Matthew shook his head a little, then released you, like nothing had happened. Maybe something almost happened? You drank to forget it.

“Yeah, I don’t think either of us remember that too well,” you laughed a little. “I remember the morning after though.”

Matthew gagged a little at that memory. You’d spent the morning sharing the bathroom floor as your stomachs alternated trying to empty every last drop of alcohol you’d ever had the thought of drinking.

“The worst hangover I’ve ever had,” he groaned, rubbing his temples at the memory of the searing headache you’d both had. “Worth it though. Never doing it again, but worth it.”

“If you say so,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Hey, we should take one last photo before you move in front of your house,” Matthew told you. “I know you’re going to visit me and I’ll visit you and everything, but one last one before you leave St. Louis for good, when we finish packing.”

“Perfect for the ‘gram,” you joked.

“You’re trash and you know it,” Matthew informed you without missing a beat as he started to take down the photos at the top of your wall.

Before you knew it, you were sliding the last box into the moving truck. Matthew sighed with relief as your dad rolled the back of the moving truck closed, your entire life inside of it up until that moment. Everyone was happy you were finally done packing.

“One more photo?” Matthew reminded you.

“We’re not leaving until tomorrow,” you reminded him, “but now is probably a better idea.”

Unlike all of the times in the past, it was you and Matthew that forced both of your mothers to take photo after photo until you had a the perfect one. Well, until you each had a perfect one. Matthew wanted a silly one and you wanted a cute, serious one. They must have each taken fifty photos for you on the front lawn of the only house you’d ever lived in.

“Well, I guess that’s the end of this, huh?” Matthew asked you. One of his hands was on the back of his neck as he spoke. “Feels weird that someone else is going to live in this house.”

“Feels weird to me too.”

You didn’t think you’d cry, but the tears were here and they were demanding to fall. You took in a sharp breath and brought your fist up to your mouth to hide your shaking lip as you tried to keep it together. Matthew knew you too well and he had you wrapped up in his arms against his broad chest before your first sob broke through. He rubbed your back soothingly as you cried against him, soaking his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled as you pulled yourself together.

“Take as much time as you need,” he told you without any hesitation.

His large hands continued to rub up and down your back, heat from his palms transferring to you. You couldn’t help but wonder what this would feel like if there wasn’t a t-shirt between his skin and yours skin, but you couldn’t dwell on those thoughts. You were leaving, plain and simple. That was that. You couldn’t keep thinking about things like that, but the thoughts kept coming.

You flipped around on the air mattress that was where your real mattress used to be a few hours later. Your dad wanted to get going at the actual crack of dawn so your real mattress was already in the moving truck in your driveway, a good night’s sleep be damned. You flipped again, unsatisfied with what the first flip had done. You couldn’t stop thinking about Matthew. You’d had the urge to tell him how you felt before, but this urge was just growing stronger and stronger with each passing minute, telling you shouldn’t move, that you shouldn’t leave without telling him. Now would be the cleanest time to come clean. Now, there was a path for you to naturally shift apart if telling him ruined the way things had always been because the status quo was already in flux. Why did you want to risk your longest friendship with one of the most important people in your life?

People do crazy things when they’re in love. You were in love with your best friend and if your brain was pulling out Hercules quotes to rationalize your feelings, you were either dealing with serious repressed emotions about the move and becoming a real adult or the universe was telling you something. Even if it was the first one, you didn’t know if you were ever going to get a good night’s sleep again if you didn’t tell him at this rate. You checked your phone, 12:45am. Matthew was probably still awake. You smiled to yourself as you got to sneak out of the house for the last time, grateful the window you always used was still pretty well greased up and didn’t squeak to give away your movements.

You padded over in the dewy grass to the Tkachuk house, up to Matthew’s window. You were about to send him a text when you heard a grunt and what sounds like a large body hit the ground nearby. Your eyes went wide as a figure rose from the grass and started to come towards you. You pivoted on your foot, ready to make a mad dash for the house, until you saw that ever familiar mop of curly hair.

“Matthew?” you whisper-yelled.

“Hey,” he chucked. “Same idea, huh?”

“Doubt it,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked you and you waved him off.

As you looked at him in the faint light of your phone, you questioned yourself again. Was this really the right move? Was losing him worth this risk? Was this even a risk, or should you have done this a long time ago?I t was the small part of you that had the last thought that made you open your mouth.

“Matthew, I need to tell you something,” you sighed as you raked a hand nervously through your hair.

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing,” he laughed. “Rock, paper, scissors for who goes first, like old times? Best of three?”

“I want to go first,” you blurted out.

Matthew threw his hands up, a shocked look on his face. You never usually wanted to go first, always trying to make him do it. He flipped one wrist out, gesturing to give you the floor to speak. Your mouth instantly dried up and your jaw went slack. Matthew gestured again, looking like an impatient conductor as he waited for you to speak.

“You know, you actually have to go if you want to-”

“I’m in love with you,” you spat out in a rush, so fast that you weren’t even sure you understood what came out of your mouth when it floated up to your own ears, so you tried again. “I’m in love with you, Matty. I have been for years. Look, I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way. I get it, but I didn’t want to leave and not tell you.”

“Why now?” was all Matthew could say.

You’d know this boy your entire life, but you could not figure out what emotion was coming across his face. There were elements you were used to from him, furrowed brows, downturned corners of his mouth, but there was something you couldn’t identify, something new.

“I just, I couldn’t leave and not tell you,” you sighed, exasperated mostly with yourself in that moment. “I should’ve told you a while ago, but I was so scared that I was going to ruin out friendship, which I’m totally ruining right now, I can tell, but I’m going to just pretend I’m not so I can finish this thought. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn’t think you felt the same way and I didn’t want to have to deal with that feeling. I mean, I’m pretty sure you don’t feel the same way now, but at least this way I won’t see you from my bedroom window every single day as I deal with this.”

Matthew let out a long breath as his hands came over his nose and mouth, fingertips pressing together. He shook his head from left to right as he processed what you’d said. You didn’t know if he’d even say anything at all as he turned away from you. Then you heard Matthew start to laugh, softly and slowly, then louder as he turned back to face you.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” he managed to get out through the laughter.

“This is somehow going way better and way worse than I imagined,” you mumbled to yourself as Matthew continued to laugh.

“Of course I’m fucking in love with you too.”

Matthew’s laughter calmed when your eyes met his. You were hesitant. Matthew was forever pushing your buttons and pulling your string, but you didn’t think he’d joke about something like this.

“Jesus, that’s what I came out here to tell you. How could I not be in love with you?” he asked you as he started smiling. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

You reached for him in a way you never had before. Your hands found the back of his neck. His hands reached for your waist, pulling you in tight, as his lips met yours for the first time. This, this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Like coming home. No, like you’d been home this whole time and had finally just realized it.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #hockey imagine #hockey writing #hockey fanfiction

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homeformyheart · 3 years

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scathing - colt kaneko x mc (rod)

author’s note: first ride or die one-shot featuring colt kaneko! i picked him in my second playthrough and GEEZ the route changes near the end caught me off-guard but did NOT disappoint 😂. includes tiny callout to red carpet diaries. also, i know nothing about cars.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. series/pairing: ride or die – colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler) rating/warnings: 14+; swearing based on/prompt: title inspired by lyrics from “mad woman” by taylor swift word count: 3.8k summary: ellie drops in to surprise colt only to find that he is out with another woman.

scathing

ellie whacked colt with a large pillow with one hand while doing her best to punch his chest and stomach with the other to keep him from grabbing her, knowing she physically wouldn’t be able to do much to hurt him. colt tried to dodge as best as he could while looking for an opening that would let him stop ellie’s attacks without hurting her. he had to not only do this while half blinded by a giant pillow but while protecting his body – he had never seen ellie this mad before and did not want to find out if she was mad enough to knee him in the groin.

“you cheating motherfucker! how dare you, asshole!” ellie screamed, her face shifting between displays of rage and tears.

colt didn’t know which was worse. “god, ellie, stop! will you let me explain?!”

3 hours earlier

ellie weaved in and out of traffic seamlessly, her eyes trained on the inconspicuous white sedan two cars ahead. she had dropped in at the body shop to surprise colt a day early. she was able to convince her dad to let her leave her grandparents’ house early considering they had already spent the christmas holiday with them. she pulled up to the body shop and was told that colt had left for a job by himself, which ellie immediately knew was suspicious. colt was reckless, but he wasn’t stupid. he knew he should never work a job alone, which likely meant he thought this was one he could do in his sleep.

something didn’t sit right. ellie found out where colt was headed and got back in her car. she quickly got on the highway, heading toward the address of the downtown hotel colt was supposedly heading to, when she noticed the white sedan ahead of her. even though it was a completely standard white sedan, of which there were hundreds, if not thousands, in l.a., ellie knew it was colt’s. it was the car they had prepped for the upcoming koenigsegg job. this was even further proof that colt thought this job was brainless – he would never risk taking out their getaway car more than once.

ellie watched as the sedan pulled into the underground parking lot and she quickly found a spot on the street not far from the entrance to the hotel. it was definitely a high-end hotel and she would need to dress in something other than a tank top and sneakers if she was going to blend in. she quickly changed in the backseat into a glittery bodycon dress and flats, running her hands through her braid to loosen the curls to give it that “beachy” look. she swiped on pink lip gloss as a final touch and made her way inside the hotel.

she scanned the room and identified the parking garage elevators and ducked behind a pillar that gave her a good vantage point. she listened for the ding! that signaled the elevator doors opening and peeked carefully to see if it was colt. he was dressed in his crisp navy blue suit, with a white dress shirt but no tie. lucky for her, he didn’t seem to notice her as he walked across the room to the hotel bar. ellie darted over from the pillar to the other side of the doorway, relying on her peripheral vision to see where colt went. he was facing away from her, standing at the bar next to a tall, gorgeous redhead wearing a backless dark green halter dress that definitely showed off her assets.

ellie felt a little silly for spying on her boyfriend, especially when it was definitely clear he was working a job. this woman was not unlike others they had to deal with in the past but she was definitely the prettiest. she considered heading back to the shop when she noticed that they had switched positions – colt was sitting on a barstool with the woman between his legs. his hands were on her waist and she was gripping the collar of his shirt as they kissed passionately.

she felt her heart shatter and tears were quick to prick the back of her eyes as she ran as fast as she could out of the hotel. even through the tears, she pulled her car out of the street seamlessly and raced back to the shop. she let herself cry in the car, the sobs wracking her body. shoulders shaking, she grabbed her tank top from before and used it to blow her nose and dry her face. she was not going to let colt kaneko get away with this.

ellie told the rest of the crew to take off because she was going to need to talk to colt alone before she went upstairs and sat on the bed to wait.

colt sensed something was different when he got back to the body shop. he had been excited to see ellie’s car out front but noticed the backseat still had all her stuff. if she was back, she definitely would’ve brought her duffel bags up to his room. it was quiet in the shop, which was unusual, because he was expecting his crew to work at least a couple more hours. it wasn’t like them to take off without talking to him first.

“ellie! i didn’t know you were coming back early. i missed you, baby,” colt grinned, walking over to ellie to give her a kiss.

she stood up and grabbed one of his pillows. “oh, really? did you miss me while you were sucking face with that redhead? or are there other women i should know about?”

colt rolled his eyes. “don’t be so dramatic. it was for a job, it meant nothing. you know what it takes to get a job done.”

ellie felt her blood boil and started whacking him with the pillow. “no job is ever worth you cheating on me, asshole.”

colt’s eyes narrowed as if he was trying to calculate the likelihood that this was going to escalate. unfortunately, what he didn’t realize was that he was too late and his dismissive attitude already hit ellie’s escalate button.

“ellie, i know it looks bad but it was a job. i promise that’s all it was. i was playing a part and we got what we needed,” colt tried to appeal to ellie’s logical side.

“how stupid do you think i am? i saw you with my own eyes, colt. and even if i didn’t, you reek of chanel perfume, which only old women wear, and you have lipstick all over your face and your shirt.”

colt was starting to lose his patience but clenched his fists as a reminder to avoid saying anything that would nuclearize the conversation. “sweetheart, come on, we’re in this together. you know i only have eyes for you.”

“don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me. everything out of your mouth has been a lie,” ellie snapped. “tell me – was she good in bed? was it worth however much you got from the job?”

now this was getting ridiculous. “ellie, you know i would never sleep with anyone else. i would never cheat on you.”

“i clearly don’t know anything because you did cheat on me, asshole,” her voice dropped but retained the dangerously angry tone that kept colt from coming closer. “you know perfectly well how i feel about jobs that require you to hook up with someone else. clearly the only thing that matters to you is the job, even at the expense of our relationship.”

“el, come on –”

ellie shook her head and cut him off, “no, you’re not talking your way out of this. we’re done.” she bolted from the room and down the stairs toward the front door.

colt knew if he didn’t catch her before she got in her car, he’d never catch up to her. she was by far the fastest driver on the crew and if she left l.a., he might not be able to find her. he sprinted after her, jumping off the stairs recklessly and barely catching himself before he hit the wall, saving himself from a nasty concussion. he pushed himself up quickly and let the adrenaline propel him out the door just in time to see ellie slide into the driver’s seat.

the car squealed away from the garage and quickly out of sight and colt had no clue where she was headed. dammit, he cursed inwardly as he quickly grabbed his helmet and hopped on his bike to chase after her.

* * * * * ellie had managed to lose colt after half an hour, which she counted as a massive win given that he had the advantage with his bike in l.a. traffic. but she knew how to navigate every nook and cranny of l.a. having spent the better part of the last couple of years charting courses and back-up escape paths. she pulled into the underground parking lot near her destination, pulled on a blonde wig, fixed up her makeup, and changed into heels.

she stepped out of the car and took the parking elevator to the ground floor, walking as fast as she could in three-inch heels outside to flag down a cab. she gave the driver instructions and sat back, giving her appearance a once-over and spritzing a light perfume on her wrists and neck. she pulled up the discreet app on her phone, the one they used to message with their buyers and targets in a way that was untraceable, and texted her contact. he wanted to put a job before her? two could play this game.

when she arrived at the very expensive club, she gave her alias to the bouncer and was escorted quickly to the vip room, where her contact was waiting. aaron montmartre, the spoiled nephew of famed hollywood producer viktor montmartre, who was known for his extensive collection of expensive cars, spending sprees on viktor’s black card, and his weakness for young, attractive women. he was supposed to receive the newest koenigsegg model before it was even available to the public. and ellie was going to find out exactly when and where the drop would be.

* * * * * colt pulled up around the corner of the vip hot spot that was a known celebrity hangout. he knew ellie and knew she was pissed enough to want to teach him a lesson. he couldn’t help but be impressed with how seamlessly she drove through l.a. to get him off her tail and how she succeeded briefly. he prided himself on being able to handle any route with his bike and the fact that she was still able to lose him was beyond sexy. there was no one else that could compare to her.

although he didn’t know exactly what she was doing, he did know that he needed to be really careful not to give himself away too early. he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked casually up to the bouncer, giving him a curt nod. the bouncer gave him a long, scrutinizing look before letting him in. it took colt a few seconds to let his eyes adjust to the dark, hazy atmosphere of the pulsing nightclub.

he walked toward the bar – it would give him the most unassuming vantage point to observe the club and he could do with a drink – only to notice a blonde wig and curve-hugging dress that looked all too familiar. he approached the bar slowly, making sure there were enough people between them that he wouldn’t get noticed; even though her back was to him, all she would need to do was turn to the right and she’d spot him in her peripheral.

colt ordered a glass of whiskey neat so that he’d have something to keep him occupied as he watched ellie flirt openly with their target. colt knew what ellie was likely up to and he was both angry that she would jeopardize the job by potentially tipping their hand early and furious that she would openly flirt with another man. most people didn’t understand the difference, but a furious colt was a jealous colt; the concept of jealousy was something he kept out of his vocabulary.

ellie knew. she knew the moment colt walked into the room. after three years, five months, seventeen days, and twelve successful jobs together, she had learned a thing or two about him. she knew that he would eventually get back on her tail and actually, she was counting on it. it was what she was good at. reading people. learning him. studying the ins and outs of the road and the job. memorizing the ins and outs of him.

and one of the things ellie knew was that colt was a jealous man, although he would rather shoot himself in the foot than admit it out loud to anyone. but if he could use his raw magnetism to get a job done, then she could use her innocent appearance to disarm a target and gain intel. she had already spent the better half of the last 30 minutes pretending to be a tipsy flirt and encouraging aaron toward drunkenness, knowing he’d be more likely to spill details that way.

what she expected but still wasn’t prepared for was how handsy and charming aaron could be. she actually found herself enjoying their flirty banter and perhaps realized that she was a little tipsier than she should be. ellie turned to lean against the bar so she could subtly inch closer to aaron, placing a hand carefully on his bicep as though to steady herself. she immediately felt colt’s eyes staring at the back of her head and had to make a conscious effort not to shiver. she barely registered aaron placing his hand on her hip and leaning in far too close to ask her if she wanted to leave with him.

“i just got the newest koenigsegg model delivered to me. we could take it for a test drive,” he murmured in her ear.

it took every ounce of willpower ellie had not to tense at the situation. her mind was reeling with this new tidbit of information that would put a wrench in their plans; they had assumed the drop would happen in the next few days.

she knew what she had to do but she also knew colt would be pissed, even more than he already was. ellie pulled back slightly and smiled. “i would love that,” she said invitingly.

that was all it took. before ellie could say anything else, she felt colt’s presence appear behind her, his hand hovering by her right hip.

“if you know what’s good for you, you’ll back off,” colt said through gritted teeth. ellie could feel the tension radiating off him as he sidled up next to her. “we’re together.”

aaron stood up slowly, taking out a wad of bills from his pocket and leaving a generous tip on the bar counter without breaking eye contact with colt. ellie instinctively took a step back away from colt only to have the wooden bar press into her back.

“who the fuck are you?” aaron said, casually inching closer to ellie so his shoulder was angled in front of her.

colt’s hand clenched into a fist. “someone you don’t want to mess with. now back off.”

“i don’t think we should be speaking for the pretty lady. leah, you know this creep?”

ellie blinked, slightly startled before remembering that her alias was leah. she slowly turned to give colt a pointed glare, raising an eyebrow and hoping he’d get the hint.

she turned back to aaron and gave him her best impression of an innocent smile. “no, i don’t think i’ve seen him before in my life.”

aaron turned back to colt. “you heard the lady. now i think you better leave before i have security escort you out.”

colt unclenched and clenched his fist a few times as though he was stretching it. ellie knew where this was headed and inwardly sighed; she could countdown from five at this rate.

right on cue, colt’s fist flew at aaron’s face, hitting him square in the jaw and sending him backward into the bar seat he was occupying previously. to his credit and ellie’s surprise, aaron seemed unfazed, picking himself back up and massaging his jaw briefly.

“why don’t we take this outside and settle this like men?” aaron said, challenging colt with his glare.

ellie’s brow furrowed. normally, colt getting into a bar fight with someone who had been flirting with her wouldn’t faze her, but they did need to figure out how to lift aaron’s car without him suspecting them or getting caught. she wasn’t sure how beating the guy up would help with that. and now she was stuck pretending she didn’t know who colt was.

“fine. after you,” colt seethed, stepping to the side so ellie and aaron could move away from the bar. aaron was a good head taller than him and ellie didn’t think this would be that easy of a fight given how quickly aaron had bounced back before.

aaron reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black fob. “why don’t you go hang out in the car, leah? this shouldn’t take long. it’s in one of the reserved parking spots in the garage, closest to the elevator,” he said, grabbing her hand to place the fob in her palm and closing her fingers over it.

ellie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she looked at him. “oh-okay,” she said, turning away from aaron. she gave colt a pointed side-eye as she passed him.

well, that was a freebie, she thought to herself as she made her way down to the car. it was exactly where aaron said it would be. ellie slid into the driver’s seat and ran her hands over the steering wheel, relishing the feel of the cool leather underneath her fingers. she grabbed her sunglasses and put them on as she drove out of the garage, quickly dialing toby on speakerphone.

“toby, i need you to ready the drop site off exit 54. i’ll explain later. if colt calls, tell him to meet me at our spot,” ellie said quickly, as she navigated the local roads to the drop site, taking extra care to avoid intersections and neighborhoods with traffic cameras.

once she arrived at the drop site, she checked with toby that the car stayed off the radar before emptying the glovebox, wiping down her prints, and shoving her wig into her purse. being methodical was ellie’s forte, even with the adrenaline running through her body, she knew she did everything right.

the dryve back to her car was uneventful, which did little to ease ellie’s nerves. she wasn’t worried about the job in actuality, but about colt. she knew he could hold his own in a fight, but she also knew how stubborn he could be. and despite still being angry with him, she was admittedly worried for his safety.

ellie felt like she was holding her breath the entire drive over to the cliffside. it wasn’t until she saw the familiar motorcycle parked near the railing that she felt a sigh of relief escape her body. she parked and stepped out, her gaze falling on the back of colt’s head.

she walked slowly over to him with anxiety in her stomach at the thought of how bruised he might be. it wasn’t until she saw that he was mostly unscathed, other than a purple bruise forming on his cheekbone and his knuckles, that her shoulders finally sagged, the tension she held all evening releasing at once.

“colt… thank god, you’re okay,” she said softly as she looked up at him, raising her hand hesitantly toward his bruised cheek.

instead, she closed her hand into a fist and punched him in the shoulder.

“ow— ellie, i just got out of a fight, seriously?!” colt yelped, angling his shoulder away from her.

ellie stepped forward every time he stepped back so she could punch him again and again. “you asshole. don’t you dare do that again, i was seriously worried about you! and you almost cost us the job!”

“i’m sorry, ow— will you let me, augh!” colt said, finally managing to grab her wrist and hold it in place while grabbing her hip with his other hand and pulling her close.

she made a half-assed attempt at struggling, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to break away. ellie did her best to glare at him, but as she looked into his eyes, she felt her anger cracking. her eyes softened and she found herself subconsciously leaning in. in a split second, colt’s lips were on hers, hot and desperate.

ellie almost forgot why she was mad at him to begin with as he gently bit her lower lip, eliciting a contented sigh that gave his tongue entrance. he pulled her hips as close as possible to his and ellie wrapped her arms around his neck. she gave back just as desperately, fighting him for dominance as she traced her tongue around his bottom lip, sucking on it gently.

colt let out a ragged breath and finally pulled back. “i’m sorry, el,” he said quietly, punctuating her name with a tender kiss. “i’m sorry,” he said again, giving her another kiss.

“if you ever cheat on me again—” ellie threatened quietly before colt silenced her with another gentle kiss.

“believe me, i won’t do that again. i did not like seeing another man put his hands on you, even if it was for a job,” colt said sheepishly, avoiding her gaze.

ellie grinned. “at least we got the job done,” she said.

colt smirked at her. “good, so i didn’t take a beating for nothing. now i don’t know about you, but i could go for a swim.”

“pretty sure you’re not supposed to go in the ocean with open wounds,” ellie warned as she watched colt strip down to his underwear.

“i hear the salt water is great for cuts,” colt grinned cheekily. “you gonna join me, sweetheart?”

ellie rolled her eyes and smiled. “okay, but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” she said, taking off her dress and shoes.

“hey,” colt said with a sudden seriousness just as she was preparing to jump. she turned to look at him and he pulled her closer.

“thanks for having my back,” he murmured, leaning in to give her a deep kiss that took her breath away.

“i’m still your driver, aren’t i?” ellie said affectionately.

colt smirked and gave a nod in response. he held out his hand for her to grab and they turned to look at the glittering horizon before they jumped, together.

* * * * * mentions: @choicesficwriterscreations; @lovehugsandcandy; @kat-tia801 choices permatag: @withbeautyandrage; @agentnolastname; @freckles-spangledvampire

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hopevalley · 3 years

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Season 8, Episode 11: Changing Times

Well, as it turns out, my second Covid vaccine kicked me down hard. After sleeping for quite a long time, though, I’m tired of sleeping and ready to try and get this write-up done.

Surprisingly, or...perhaps not so surprisingly, I don’t think I have that much to say about last night’s episode. I think we’re just too close to the finale for me to feel “safe” in guessing/hoping for anything in particular.

Let’s hit up the plot points like before:

The Triangle

Carson & Faith

Rosemary’s Purpose

School District Problems

Jesse’s Disappearance

The Triangle

I’m probably one of the few people who liked Nathan who felt like the whole beginning scene was super weird and uncomfortable. Homegirl held his hand for one second in the last episode and now she’s going to warm his serge by the fire (while he just stands there awkwardly??? He could have done that himself while she got him some tea or something idk) and then dress him???

I think we’re meant to see that as her going back to...I don’t know...old habits die hard or something? But she was barely married for any time at all and it’s been three years since Jack died. No way would she be so far into those old habits that she’d fall back into them with Nathan lmao.

Like, it’d be a REALLY GOOD PLOT for a character who had been married for years and lost a spouse (cough Abigail cough) but considering the circumstances it felt like a cheesy fanfiction! I wanted to like it, but I just felt weird about it. Tonal whiplash out the wazoo.

Especially when we had to watch Lucas drive by and see Nathan’s horse at Elizabeth’s house.

Lucas sadly watching Elizabeth talk to Nathan was also awkward, but at least it gave him the courage he needed to break things off with her.

You’d think I’d have a lot to say about the triangle, but I’m saving all of that for some kind of...post-season discussion. Who is she going to pick? Nathan seems like the most logical writing choice, but it could yet be Lucas. I genuinely don’t care who she chooses so long as she picks someone.

Carson & Faith

I like to hate on these two a lot, so you might be surprised to know that I’m enjoying their storyline. I’ve criticized this series over and over for never bothering to portray realistic relationships and one thing I can say about Faith and Carson this season is that things actually feel...plausible.

I also appreciate how they try to tie Carson into the town a bit more: he talks to Henry and Minnie and even Lucas trying to figure things out! It makes perfect sense to me; how do you choose between someone you care about/the potential life you could make with them, and a career that you’re really and truly passionate about?

This is the most interesting Carson has been since Season 5.

Anyway, the pudding scene was genuinely funny, and a great way to break up the stress that I’m sure we were all feeling about his impending proposal. Faith’s reaction to thinking he might propose was...pretty telling. I really wish they hadn’t saved so many dangling plotlines to solve in the final episode, though. I was hoping Faith and Carson’s storyline would be fully figured out in the penultimate episode so that we could let him go (or whatever) in the season finale. It just seems to me like it would be a good, smooth ending for them.

Also, for what it’s worth, they tried doing this kind of plot with Frank in Season 5, but it was rushed and pulled out of thin air; he’d never shown an inclination toward pastoring toward dying children in the past and it was clear that they just needed to write him off the show. With Carson, this sort of plotline works VERY well; he was a surgeon, and he was passionate about it, but that passion took a hit when his wife needed surgery and she died on the table under his hands. He’s had some time to move on from that and process his feelings, so it makes sense that he’d find that passion again. I just wanted to point this out because it’s interesting how well it works for Carson and how...well, not-well it worked with Frank. I really felt like with Frank, it was just a storyline that could have been given to anyone with the same success rate, whereas with Carson they took a look at the character and what we already know of him, and built the storyline specifically for him. That’s good writing, babes!

Anyway, Carson trying to propose in the vague hope that Faith will come with him, even knowing she doesn’t want to leave Hope Valley, is pretty manipulative and awful, but it really goes a long way toward making his character feel like an actual person. Like yeah, he does actually want the best of both worlds. Do you blame him?

Rosemary’s Purpose

I know a lot of people are really into this storyline but I found it boring. The only good part was when Lee called the other desk in his office “hers.” Everything else just felt like a bit too much to come to the conclusion that she should run a paper. We already had her “advice” column in the paper and it was...amusing while it lasted, but eh. I just don’t see good storylines coming for her from this angle, especially when they went the route of her finding out she wants to start the paper back up to share information with the town. Are we really going to trust Rosemary’s integrity when it comes to writing news stories, especially when MOST of the time the things she’ll be allowed to write about are, you know, who grew the biggest cabbage? It makes me dread the potential for Round Two of Nosy Rosie.

I dunno. I used to really like Rosemary but this season’s been pretty rough on her character. Good for you for wanting to find your passion career, but most of us work so that we can eat, not for a fun way to pass the time and stay busy. :/

School District Problems

Mr. Landis is right and Elizabeth is an idiot. Sure the school board is being assholes for no reason (as if they’d care if one blind child was sitting in a classroom in one western town lol), but Elizabeth’s really going to dismiss his concerns about how she can juggle the added work necessary to teach Angela while also keeping up with everyone else?

It sucks that Angela will get left out, but Elizabeth should be working with Mr. Landis to come up with a plan to teach Angela without sacrificing the education of her other students. Better yet, she could rely on her friends for advice. Like Rosemary.

Still no apology there...

Anyway, a projected 100 new kids? That’s outlandish. The only way that will happen is if they open a factory in Hope Valley, and even then it could take years. I MEAN, WHERE IS THE HOUSING GOING TO BE FOR ALL THE ADULTS THAT WOULD GIVE YOU A HUNDRED NEW STUDENTS LOL. I think we have to assume the plotlines are connected.

I also find it hard to believe the board would care about Elizabeth being certified to teach Angela. Where else is she going to get an education? It’s 1918 in the middle of almost nowhere???

This show drives me nuts with its attempt to be a “Frontier Show” while also shying away from the characters actually being stranded/cut off from society at large. You still had unlicensed teachers teaching in western towns in this time period because nobody cared!!!

ANYWAY, if Union City was like 3 miles away I could see them trying to combine schools. But it isn’t. So.

I dunno. I hate this plotline. I feel like they stole it from a better show (Road to Avonlea, where the bigger school was just a few miles away and it made sense to consider combining the schools for a better education system for the students as one-room schoolhouse teaching was proven to be less effective) but didn’t bother to consider any of the logistics of the storyline.

Maybe it’s my passion for education and history that makes me hate it, though. I know too much to find this storyline believable. I should also mention that I haven’t enjoyed Elizabeth’s role as teacher for a very long time. (I think they suck at writing Elizabeth as a teacher.)

I’m just not interested in wherever this is going to go because I can’t imagine it’ll have a lasting impact.

The only good thing I can say about the whole plotline is that I REALLY LIKED HOW BILL CAME OUT OF IT. I think he’s the only person who knows how to speak to Elizabeth. She struggles with blunt honesty at first, but ultimately tends to appreciate it, and that’s pretty much what she always gets with Bill. Also, the scene where he shuts her down didn’t make her look stupid, either (just worried/anxious), so I could appreciate it.

Jesse’s Disappearance

I couldn’t care less about this plotline if I tried. Jesse’s gone missing in the mountains before (was it last season? I don’t even remember because I didn’t give a damn about it then either) so this felt like a multi-reused plotline...for the same character, no less.

It’s also poorly implemented. Why doesn’t anyone else care about Jesse? Why is Clara pouring her heart out to Lee while her friends are failing to support her in the slightest? Why should any of us care when we know he’ll be fine?

It just feels so forced for the sake of drama, and it’s made 10x worse because there’s too much else going on at the same time.

Also, how convenient that they have to tell us how hard-working and dedicated Jesse is to his work to force this plot to even make sense... C’mon, he has never been a particularly dedicated to work. They just needed to explain why he would have left the car so that he could be “missing.”

Boring. I also don’t care that much about their “stolen” money.

The only good thing in all of this is seeing how soothing of a voice Lee actually has.

The best parts of the episode:

Henry calling Florence “Flo” GOT ME. It was so surprisingly cute???

I love Bill, and he really came out of this episode looking great! Finally, it seems they’re done writing him as a grouchy old man who hates everyone! In this season (and particularly in this episode), he is allowed to be capable, smart, helpful, loyal, and in possession of a great deal of integrity. I couldn’t believe that guy tried to bribe the judge in town right off the bat lmao...but the way Bill handled it felt very in character—very reminiscent of him from S3 or 4. He never shuts things down immediately, preferring instead to get more information to use against his, erm...opponent. Should he need it, of course. I was really happy to see him written well in this episode.

HENRY’S LETTER FROM HIS SON. STARTS OFF WITH “DAD,” AND SAYS PS. I LOVE YOU AT THE BOTTOM. Good for Henry.

Fiona’s backstory! Finally, we get some FIONA LORE. Neat.

PUDDING HANDS CARSON.

#when calls the heart

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flowerflamestars · 3 years

Note

PLEASE elaborate on cassian and azriel as teenagers PLEASE

YES MY BOYS OKAY LETS GO

So the moment it all actually comes together and starts is in Starlight: that first blood smeared kiss with aching ribs, Cassian’s retrospectively enormous fuck you to authority, that searing absolution: he’s Illyrian.

What Azriel hears: Illyrian like me, like me, the only one.

This is where Azriel understands all at once. That he might have nothing but an uncertain future, but he can belong with this one bloody, beautiful boy who is just as deadly. That this is why Rhysand- Rhysand who has known love every single day of his life- is jealous.

It’s about recognition. That the High Lord chose Azriel and recognized his talent- even if Rhys is the one who really has a father, who gets letters and gifts, who has a father.

That Rhys’ bleeding heart that both Cassian and Azriel find incomprehensible meant that he’d dragged Cassian to shelter- but the High Lady had looked at the strongest Illyrian born of his generation and said, yes, you can stay by my sons side.

Rhys went: New? Brother?

But Cassian understood exchange. Alliance. And proceeded to prove himself further to the Camp Lords who spit on him by thrashing Rhysand within an inch of his life, every single day.

Enter, Azriel. Overpowered, out of control, almost executed because an Illyrian who can’t fly is worth less than a lame hunting dog.

Rhys might have come to learn Illyrian techniques, but at the end of the day, his power is incompatible with siphons, isn’t Illyrian at all.

Cassian has been alone his entire life. He could shake the mountains when he was eight- but it didn’t earn him anything but more fear, more anger, more people who’d called him a bastard, a monster. He doesn’t remember his mother’s name, he’s never had anyone and doesn’t count Rhys because he thinks the High Lady is trying to collect him because her precious Prince clearly needs a guard dog.

(he’s not 100% right, but he’s not 100% wrong either. Alyssar and Rhain plan for Rhysand to rule the Steppes one day, befriending Cassian has great future value if they all survive to adulthood)

And then Azriel blows up the first few shitheads they throw him in the ring with. No control, so very much power.

There’s a timeline where they ended up sexy rivals, each other’s only benchmark- but what happens instead is someone pushes Az off a cliff in training and he just falls.

Azriel can’t fly.

So Cassian teaches him. This weary, beautiful boy everyone is afraid of who the dark loves, who spends every spare moment staring at the heavens like he’s never even seen the sky before.

The snows blow in early. Cassian looks at Azriel. They’re exactly the same height, which is to say, already enormous, but Az always makes himself smaller. Always. He’s deadly and graceful and so, so, afraid. Not that anyone notices but Cas- no one else ever gets close enough to this boy the Camp Lords call a devil hidden in Illyrian skin.

Cassian sneaks Azriel back to the cabin, to his gifted bedroom that he is abruptly nauseatingly both proud of and ashamed by.

He’s so sad, Cassian can easily share, easily keep him from freezing to death.

(in the back of his mind, he knows he wouldn’t. Az is strong like him, he wouldn’t freeze. He’d live, but it would hurt. Pain is supposed to make them stronger, and they hurt each other all the time. Surely, surely, that’s enough.)

The thing is, they’re equals. They’re alike, the only people either of them has ever met who are. And, as we know from Daylight and Starlight, they get each other. As friends, as brothers, as everything, they understand one another.

Az might not talk much, but Cassian always listens when he does. Laughs, the sound so vast and lovely Azriel never knows what to do in the face of it.

Cassian is absolutely brutal, but he’s fair too. Kind. Bewilderingly willing to share whatever he has with Azriel, who has even less, for the easy price of fighting each other, watching each others backs.

They go to sleep each night in a too-soft bed, warm for once. Confounded by so many things around them- Cassian is briefly, utterly vindicated at the look on Azriel’s face when Alyssar gives him a pillow.

Flash forward through winter and spring, to that early summer day.

Rhys is jealous of Azriel- because he and Cassian belong together. That Cassian had looked at Azriel- so very wrong to behold, more shadow than teenage boy, scarred and scared, half blind in the sunlight- and seen an equal. In Azriel. Not Rhysand.

Rhys, much like the spoiled child that he was who’d never before had someone say no, never before considered that anyone could be better, is a little bitch about it. He spends their teenage years getting over it, slowly.

But in the meantime, Azriel is having a revelation.

He can belong.

It’s about recognition. Love, but also so much more than love. It’s only with each other- as friends, as lovers, as some mix in between because they know better than to think this will last forever, better still than to imagine that something so inconsequential as Azriel someday finding a man a who could love him without secrecy, that Cassian does like the way Morrigan looks at him, could ever, ever tear them apart- that they learn they can have.

They hurt each other all the time in training, they have to- Cassian learns what Azriel thinks, that Az says to himself so many times over, with every reach- Cassian would never hurt me for real. Azriel realizes that no matter how strange he is, how scared, Cassian has never been afraid of him.

They look at each and see only equals, all in the world that can really belong to each other, because no one else exists as they do.

It’s Cassian setting the bones in Azriel’s hands after he broke them, Azriel using the darkness to steal bandages and to wrap Cassian’s weeping fresh tattoos, even though they’ll heal fine untended. Sleeping in that too small bed, warmer, because now they can touch.

Gentle because no one in their world is gentle, but they can learn to give that to each other.

It’s standing shoulder to shoulder under hateful eyes, stronger, the strongest, together. Earning the exact same number of siphons, undeniable.

Cassian telling Azriel the little stories he made for the constellations he found in the summer sky as a child. Azriel reciting, carefully, the fairytales him mother told him in secret before she died, just an hour each week- of honor, of valor, of love, of Illyrians who were more than violent.

They’re family, they’re everything, and that doesn’t change when Azriel turns twenty, and the High Lord of Night calls him into service.

One last night, the desperate strength of Cassian’s embrace, his hands shaking, always gentle. Cassian telling Az not to trust those fucking high fae, Azriel making Cas promise he’ll be here when he can come back. That he’ll live. That they’ll both live.

A year of madness, a year of learning, a year by side of a High Lord who knew every inch of his territory, feared, respected, loved across of the Court of Night and beyond.

Az takes his vows, becomes something even more fearsome. And then Rhain sends him back to Illyria, to guard the Morrigan, his personal choice for his sons future bride.

(The bidding war for Morrigan’s hand has already commenced. To send her to Autumn is, more than anything, a fuck you from one High House to the highest. Rhain is hoping his terribly romantic, dreaming young son, might just elope. Do something foolhardy and reckless that he can pretend to disapprove of, and still get what he wants.)

The Morrigan thing happens.

Azriel understands- Azriel isn’t mad at Cassian. They’ve made no promises, this cannot even begin to touch what they each other.

Azriel is mad at Morrigan.

Because she used Cassian, because she hurt Cassian, and she doesn’t care. Doesn’t begin to understand. Thinks it’s nothing because of course bright, laughing Cassian would go along, act as though being dismissed is nothing to a bastard born boy.

But it’s still his job to protect her, and he will. Azriel is resolute in his duty, the best, right up until the moment Morrigan’s father takes her home.

The one relationship in which Azriel has no authority, that Rhain had ordered him specifically not to interfere in.

Still, Azriel warns the High Lord.

Still, it isn’t enough, and it takes him days to find her.

He has nightmares about it for three hundred years. It changes all of them- Morrigan, a casual rebel, who’d now rather die than not escape. Azriel, from dutiful to duty incarnate, locked in ice. Cassian, to whom the world had proved that in the end, no matter how much better he was, kinder, he was still a weapon.

A few things happen in short, dangerous succession. Alyssar takes Morrigan to Sangravah to heal. Azriel disobeys several direct orders to stop Rhys from killing Cassian.

The boys reunite, the boys mourn.

Rhys takes formal control of the Steppes.

It’s love, it’s recognition, it’s existing in the understand they will never let something like it happen again: Cassian kills Azriel’s half brothers. Azriel goes with Cassian, shrouds in unescapable and devouring darkness the camp where his Mother died. They rebury her bones.

Cassian and Azriel, shoulder to shoulder against the world. Cassian and Azriel, a promise bound if not spoken: to protect Morrigan, who they’d failed.

Cassian and Azriel, the whole sum of each others family, no matter what shape it took.

A whole world, together, Illyrian as no one else ever was.

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alovesongshewrote · 4 years

Text

Almost A Thousand Years - 1300 | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot: You’ve known Hisirdoux Casperan for almost a thousand years. You’ve hated him for almost a thousand years. And for almost a thousand years, you’ve been cursed to feel each others pain. But somewhere in that time, things changed. [Hisirdoux Casperan x Mostly Gender Neutral but Probably Female Presenting Based on How Historical Men Treat Them!Reader]

Word Count: 2,543

Warnings: THIS ONE IS BIG SAD GUYS, minor character death, plague, fighting, blood, injury, enemies to lovers emphasis on enemies, reader gets called a wench by Douxie :(

A/N: Two in one night because the last chapter was short, lol

Tag List: @furblrwurblr

Back | Next

Before the plague, a few things happened.

You were in Italy, learning all you could during the renaissance. It was a very exciting time for you, everything you were passionate about was reborn, and it felt like you were starting a new life with them. Maybe, in this life, you wouldn’t have to hide as much. You wouldn’t have to be a spy or a soldier to survive, you could just be as you were. You could walk in the dark without fear. You were full of hope for a brief and shining moment.

And then Hisirdoux Casperan found you.

You’d been in the market, purchasing a few things that you needed, as you do, when you caught a glimpse of a familiar familiar.

So, you ran. Again.

It definitely wasn’t the best plan, seeing as you brought a lot of unwanted attention to yourself. That didn’t matter though, you just had to keep going. You made it all the way out of town before the first spell was cast. Blue magic, from him, hit you in the back, tripping you.

The unforgiving ground scratched up your hands, drawing blood and stinging your palms. Quickly, you got to your feet. Turning to face the apprentice, you saw him glaring at his own hands. You smirked, knowing that whatever he did to you, he’d feel himself. You took his distraction as an opportunity, casting a spell of your own, throwing him into a tree.

Then you winced, feeling the impact, and remembered that you'd feel whatever you did to him.

The wizard stood, raising his hands to attack you again, but a small black mass interrupted him, “Douxie! Stop this!”

“Aww, your cat knows I’ll kill you! How protective, how cute,”

“Shut up, wench!”

“Ooooh, emotional. Love that,”

Hisirdoux looked like he’d attack you again any second, but Archie stopped him again, not even allowing him to speak this time, “You were a spy for the Gumm-Gumm army, (Y/N), why?”

You felt a little bad at that. The familiar actually sounded hurt, which was a bit of a surprise for you. You'd assumed that everyone in Camelot jumped to hating you, you never considered that you'd hurt anyone, “I-I didn’t-”

“It doesn’t matter! The witch betrayed us, she betrayed Merlin!”

“Douxie, please. Whatever you do, remember, you will also feel it,”

The wizard scowled and put down his fists, deciding that you weren't worth the pain. You did the same, glaring at them both.

“You should leave,” you told them, “The people around here aren’t crazy about strangers,”

And with that, you walked away.

You didn’t wait to see if the wizard stuck around. You had to get home, pack up, and leave again. It wasn’t safe here anymore.

A few years later, you were in France. It was a beautiful country, really, full of rolling hills and stunning fields, breath-taking coasts, and awe-inspiring mountains. It was lovely, really.

Unfortunately, it was also the Hundred Years War, so literally everyone was fighting literally all the time, and you, of course, got caught up in it.

You had tried to avoid it, you really did. You'd wandered the countryside, trying your best to mind your own business, picking your way through a war-torn land and trying to admire the beauty in it at the same time

And then one afternoon, miles away from France, Douxie felt a sharp, intense pain in his arm. He stared down at his limbs, concerned that he'd hurt himself somehow, but there was nothing on his skin. He was fine. Which meant you weren’t.

And you were not, in fact, fine. You’d been stabbed. Fortunately, not anywhere too important, but it was still enough to kill you if you didn’t get help.

And you assumed no one would help. If Casperan felt this he was too far away to do anything, and he’d never help you, even if he could. No one else knew you existed, and it wasn't like helping strangers was something everyone did. Even if it were popular, the people around you were too busy fighting. You had to face facts. You were going to die here.

It wasn't pleasant, but the very least this was better than whatever Gunmar had planned for you.

You accepted your fate and stared at the sky, watching clouds float in and out of view. And then they got closer. You were confused for a moment before you realized that someone had picked you up. You tried to see the face of your savior, but all you could see was a metal helmet. The helmet of your savior faded away as you quickly lost consciousness.

You woke in a dim tent, lit only by lanterns and candles. The space smelled of herbs and old blood. In the corner of the tent was an older man, crouched over a wooden table, reading something. You sat up and looked down at your arm. It was well bandaged, sore still, but you would survive this wound.

“Good to see you’re awake,” the man said, not looking up from his book.

“What? Who are you?”

“I am no one of consequence. But you? A youth such as yourself, unarmed in a battle? There is something peculiar about you, no doubt about that,”

You paused for a moment. He was right, you were peculiar, but hopefully, he hadn’t figured out just what was off about you.

“Why did you help me?”

“You’re a person, are you not? You were in trouble, were you not? It is my belief that every person who needs help should receive it,”

You could have laughed at that. This man was himself peculiar in his beliefs. You hadn’t met many humans with that particular mindset.

“How many people agree with that?”

“Enough of them to make the philosophy worth it,”

The man continued to shuffle around the tent, looking at books and messing with herbs. You did your best to stand. He turned to you.

“Good, you can stand,” he handed you a stack of books, which almost dropped immediately after receiving them, “Come! We have injured men to attend to and little time to do it!”

The doctor left the tent, and you followed.

And you kept following.

For the next few years, you apprenticed under the good doctor, not only learning more about medicine but about humans themselves. The more you worked with the doctor, the more people you met and healed, the more your admiration for man-kind grew. You had seen the worst of humanity, but now you saw its other side.

The doctor was an amazing mentor. He was strict, but not unkind, teaching you everything he knew. You still had your secrets. He never knew about your magic, and you never learned his name, but despite that, you made quite the team. The doctor was always there through the frustration of a tough patient, or the grief of losing someone you couldn’t save. He helped you navigate the world, something no one else had ever bothered to teach. The man was quite like a father to you.

And the both of you enjoyed that bond.

One day, after assisting a woman in the birth of her child, the doctor told you something you doubted he’d told anyone else.

“Have I ever told you about my wife young (Y/N)?”

“I don’t believe so, master,”

“She was so beautiful. Fearless and full of life. She was the one who believed in people. For years, I had my doubts about humanity. I healed for coin and profit. But she saw the world for what it really was, and she wanted to make it better. She made me want to make it better,”

“She sounds incredible,”

“She was,”

“If I may, where is your wife now, master?”

“She passed some years ago, child. I continue my practice in her name. One day I hope-” he looked out on the horizon, gazing at the rising sun, “I hope I can see her again,”

You raised a hand to his shoulder, “One day master, but not too soon. This world needs you a while longer,”

He placed a hand over yours, “I know. I hope she does too,”

“I’m sure she’s alright with waiting for you master,”

It inspired you, how their love lasted. How it inspired your mentor to be better. How he hoped to see her in the life after this one, and how she waited for him. You hoped that, maybe, you’d find a love like that for yourself one day.

Then the plague hit.

You and the doctor did everything in your power, but it wasn’t enough. The pandemic would be a pandemic no matter what you did.

You traveled from town to town, trying your best to ease people's pain, but there was no cure. You also had to avoid contracting the plague yourself. Immortal or otherwise, the black death would still hurt, and might actually kill you. You were even more concerned for your mentor, a mortal, who was going on in years, becoming more fragile as the days went on. It didn’t stop him from trying to help the public, for their own benefit and in the name of his wife. You admired that.

And then he became infected.

You held him in your arms as he died, trying to hide your tears from the old man. Instead of crying, you did your best to make small talk with the doctor, a tactic he taught you to keep the patient's mind from the pain. You never thought that he’d be the patient.

“Do you remember that woman, Master? The one without eyes? She had such humor about her. I hope she’s alright,”

He only nodded. But there was a curiosity in his eyes. He had questions, and he wanted them answered before he left this world. He did not want small talk.

“My dear (Y/N),” he’d rasped, “Tell me, how have you stayed so young? It’s been years since I saved you from the battlefield, how do you retain your youth?”

“It’s a story for another day, master,”

He sighed, “You should go, child. You could become infected if you stay here,”

“No, no, I can’t leave you,”

“I don’t want you to go through this,” he coughed, “Please, (Y/N),”

“No, no, no, there has to be something else I can do, I-”

“(Y/N)-”

“No,” the tears came harder as you let go of the man and lifted your hands, “I’m sorry I hid this from you,”

You began to chant softly, something you hadn’t done in years. Magic flew from your fingertips, a soft glow surrounded the doctor. You ignored his wide eyes and kept going, using every healing spell you could think of, praying that it would work.

It didn’t.

Your mentor grabbed your hand, “Thank you, my child. You’ve allowed me the chance to be your guide, your teacher, and now you’ve shown me magic. I will see my wife soon. Maybe someday, we will meet again, and I could introduce you to her”

“I’d love to meet her someday,” you whispered.

And then he was gone.

You buried him in a field of flowers.

And then you let yourself cry.

You wept for days, crying over a burning in your chest that you hadn’t felt since Morgana’s passing all those years ago. This was a loss unlike anything you’d ever known, and it hurt. You would gladly face a thousand more stab wounds, scratches, bruises, beatings, whatever before you felt this pain again.

Across the country, Douxie your pain.

It was odd, because Archie was fine, and apart from that he’d isolated himself. When people were dying left and right, it was better to live without attachments. The wizard suffered through the confusion for a few days before he realized; there was nothing wrong with him, something had happened to you.

Now don’t misunderstand, he didn’t actually care about you, but if you were hurt he would feel it, and he wasn’t in the mood to experience unnecessary pain. Oh god, what if you had the plague? He didn’t care, but if you had the plague, you’d probably die, and if you died you might take him with you. That, or he’d lose one of his few remaining attachments to Camelot. Not that he cared about you or anything, just himself, Archie, and the last of Camelot. Not you. Totally not.

He didn’t care so much, that he tracked you down to make sure you weren’t dead.

But that might have been a bad decision considering the two of you were enemies and you were mourning the loss of your father figure.

When he found you, you were sitting alone in a field of flowers, staring into space, looking out at the horizon. He cleared his throat to get your attention.

“What are you doing here!?” You barked, moving to face the wizard. He took note of the black you wore, of your voice, sharp with anger and rough from crying. Maybe you weren’t physically hurt after all.

“I felt something on your end, I wanted to make sure you hadn't done anything stupid,”

“Well, I’m fine, so why don’t you just leave me alone?”

Hisirdoux turned to leave when he noticed Archie pawing at something at the edge of the field. A doctor's mask.

“(Y/N)?”

“What!?”

“You haven’t been treating plague patients, have you?”

“Why does it matter to you,”

He picked up the mask and spun around to face you, “If you get the plague, I feel it! If you die I feel it! I don’t want to-”

“Oh what, so I’m supposed to stop helping people because you’re afraid of a little pain? You’re a coward Casperan!”

“And you’re a fool! Since when do you care about helping people, anyway? You were happy to betray Camelot!”

“I’ve cared for a long time now, apprentice,” you spat, “And betrayal wasn’t my choice!”

“Wasn’t it?”

You grit your teeth. Glaring at the ground, you wondered what your master would think of Casperan. It didn’t matter. He was gone.

“Get away from me,”

“What?”

“I said GET AWAY!” You screamed, flinging a spell at your opponent.

He hit the ground hard. Both of you cried out in pain.

“This is pointless,” you said, tears falling again. A fight with Casperan was not what you needed right now.

“What aren’t you understanding,” Hisirdoux said, getting to his feet, “If you die from the plague, you could kill us both!”

“I would die gladly if it killed you,”

Those words hurt like nothing else. Douxie didn’t even like you and yet it still stung.

Your vicious words hurt you too. You knew, deep down, you hadn’t really meant that. You were beginning to realize that everything and everyone you loved would fade with time, and at the end of it, Hisirdoux would be the only thing left. You still hated him though.

Behind him, Archie hissed, “Douxie, we should go,”

“Fine,” the wizard said, dropping the mask, “Good luck staying alive,”

You both burned with rage as Casperan left with his familiar, not caring that he hadn’t learned what caused you such pain.

And when they were gone, you cried.

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sarah-bae-maas · 4 years

Text

Rowaelin AU!

AU! where the valg wars never happened, but Aelin and Rowan would always have met anyway

Masterlist AO3

***

“Dorian, as nice as this was, you need to leave.” Aelin smirked at the bare body next to hers, admiring the prince.

Dorian reached a hand over, smoothing it down her body and around dangerous places. “Of all the things I could do, why would I do that – Ah! Fuck.”He pulled his hand back, and held it to his chest as it burned. Aelin’s eyes widened, horrified at what she’d done. Before she could apologise for losing control of her magic once again, Dorian huffed and near-fled from the room, slamming the door in his wake. She didn’t even have a chance to apologise to her friend.

She was lucky her room was on the opposite of the castle to her parents, otherwise she’d fear they’d hear her escapades with the prince of Adarlan.

Maybe burning Dorian was a blessing in disguise. She did need to get some sleep – some fancy diplomats from Wendlyn, including some warrior that had been hired to train her, were arriving in the morning. She didn’t know if it would help at all, but she figured it couldn’t hurt. Even at twenty-one, her fire burned in uncontrollable ways. She thought maybe as she aged it might settle down, that somehow she’d magically be able to control it better, but it still flared up at the worst possible times. Like when Dorian tried to touch her. Luckily he was just a bit of fun, or this would be a serious problem.

She sighed, eager for tomorrow but dreading the likely-awful fae that would be her maker for the next few months. She decided that sleep would likely evade her the entire night, so she may as well find something to do with her time.

The halls were silent as she crept through them, her fae senses letting her know what ways to avoid so that she didn’t run into anyone else. Her body, tall and languid, thrived when in her fae form. Her human side was so erased that she’d fooled even the oldest of fae into thinking this was her who she really was.

Although only walking, a bead of sweat started to roll down her back. The air was dry as can be as a sweltering summer rolled in, the earth smelling of dead grass and dust. The back alleys she took to get to her favourite pub forwent pavement and let long-cemented clay guide her feet. The stone homes that lined the alleys were cool to touch, and she let them cool her fingers as she walked to her place.

Shady’s had been there longer than she’d been alive, and had been passed down through the same family like it was a royal crown. Not bustling, but not meagre, it was the perfect place to lose yourself. It also helped that it was smack-bang in the middle of a precinct the wealthy usually avoided. Dorian, for example, would never sully his fine shoes by walking on this dirt. Ha! What prisses. Anyone to scared to walk to Shady’s didn’t deserve it.

A little bell dinged as she entered, but no one looked up at her entrance. She had a hood over her head, or waist-length blonde hair braided back and hidden. Not many people were here at such an hour, only those who really wanted to forget themselves. Aelin ordered a pint and sat at her usual seat, scratching at the table.

Tomorrow will be fine. You can handle some old fae. You can do this! You’ve trained your whole life for this moment! Even if you can’t get grip on this, you’ll still be a Galathynius. Terrasen is your home. They’d never make you leave.

No matter what she told herself, she still felt butterflies roaring in her stomach. It wasn’t so much that she was nervous to meet her alleged mentor, but what would happen if the bastard couldn’t fix her.

It had been only a month ago that she and Aedion had overheard her parents discussing her fate if they couldn’t get her flames under control. Aelin could hear the love they felt for her in their voices, but it didn’t seem to matter as they considered shipping her off to Wendlyn, alone, until she was better. How could they suggest separating her from her family, from her life? Aelin could admit maybe there was someone in the Whitethorn lot who could teach her, but at what cost? To Aelin, spending potentially years away from those she loved simply wasn’t worth it.

Since then, her parents had pulled her aside and told her they were bringing someone to her, but Aelin knew exactly what that meant. This was her chance, and if she fucked it up, she’d be on the next ship out of there.

“You look awfully sad for someone so pretty. Maybe a drink will cheer you up?”

Aelin looked up at the low voice, surprised to see another fae. Although Terrasen was teeming with her kin, Shady’s wasn’t somewhere they frequented. He was tall, alarmingly so, and built like a castle. His skin was bronze and littered with scars, his dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. He was attractive – in the same way sin was.

“I’ve already got one.” Aelin pointed to the half-empty glass in front of her, her answer making the stranger smirk.

He leant in to speak again, but a male at the next table stopped him. “Give it a rest, Lorcan. She’s not interested, and you’re starting to look pathetic.” His voice was deep, the lilt to it making the butterflies in her stomach rest. He had a cloak on, an emerald so dark it was nearly black, and his hair was a neat and short silver, but slightly longer on the top. His skin was creamy but loved by the sun, and his eyes were a startling green. Although sitting, he clearly had some height behind him too, but unlike his friend he was not a castle; he was a palace. Elegant.

“She can answer for herself, stop being so sour,” the man, Lorcan, said.

Aelin was looking at the sitting man as she answered. “Your friend is right, I’m not interested.” She peeked a glance at him, and he smiled.

“Fair enough. And I’m going to consider that my cue.” Lorcan sauntered off to the corner and up the dingy stairs that led to the few rooms Shady’s hired out – usually by the hour.

Feeling intrigued and full of liquid courage, Aelin decided to sit at the table of the elegant fae. He barely glanced at her as she did. She rested her hand on her fist, squinting at him.

“What brings you to Orynth?” she asked.

“I’ve been to most corners of the world, yet Terrasen remained unexplored. The capital seemed like a good place to start.” He took a deep gulp of his drink, his fingers dotted with tattoos written in the old fae language.

Aelin, being a pervert, decided to breath deep, wanting to inhale the scent of the man in front of her. She frowned, the pine and snow from Terrasen too strong to get a read on him, despite winter being long gone.

“Who is your companion?”

“The brute that just left?” Finally, a small smile on those lips. “He’s like a brother. A very annoying, overprotective brother that won’t stop hitting on any woman with a pulse. I don’t imagine you came here to be seduced.”

“It’s not usually on my list of weekday activities. There are plenty of reasons I come here, although I’ll admit love isn’t one of them.”

A laughed lowly, the sound like the rumble of a dragon before it takes flight. “You must be young, talking about love as if it’s real.”

“You must be either old or bitter to believe it’s not. Or just very unlucky.” Must be bitter, there’s no way a male that looked like this had trouble finding women to warm his bed.

“Hm. Maybe.” His drink was empty, but he didn’t move from the table. “You been here your whole life?”

“I’ve been to every country on this damned continent, but this is home, always will be. I have no desire to leave. You make me think you’ve never been anywhere that’s made you want to stay.” She didn’t know what made her say it, but she could somehow feel the truth in her words. He looked at her, his eyes saying how do you know me so well, yet not at all.

“Be careful, soon you’ll know my most intimate secrets,” he playfully warned, a spark lighting his eyes.

“How deep can I go before you’ll stop me?”

“I don’t know, shall we see?”

Aelin grinned at the challenge. “Parents?”

“Dead since I was a child. Next.”

“No siblings then.”

“Took them nearly a thousand years just to have me. You?”

“Destroyed my mother’s uterus. What’s your profession?”

“Soldier, mostly blacksmith. If I were to guess, I’d say you were a handmaiden.”

“Pianist. I play every week at the grand theatre, if I had my way it would be every day. Favourite place you’ve been?”

“To war.”

“How incredibly savage.” She leant closer to him. “There hasn’t been a war in Terrasen for hundreds of years, won’t you get bored being here?”

“Lorcan has forced me to rest, said it’s best for my mental state; I couldn’t disagree more.”

“Do you have a second form?”

“Hawk.”

“What does it feel like to fly?”

He paused, considering his answer. His head tilted to the side, a strand of hair falling onto his face. Aelin resisted the urge to push it back. “Freedom, in its purest form. In the sky, there is everything and nothing all at once. No one to answer to but the wind.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Unfortunately.” He looked at her keenly. “You ever have your heart broken, since you’re such the optimist?”

“I’ve never cared for someone enough to have them hurt me.”

“You’ve been with a human tonight; I can still smell him on you.” From any other mouth, the words would have made her cringe, and then run off to tell Elide so they could laugh together. Instead, they sent a shiver down her spine. Dorian had been forgotten the moment she’d laid eyes on the male in front of her.

“Something tells me you don’t care.”

____

He couldn’t take her to his room since Lorcan was there, so he held her against a wall in a closet. His hands were under her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him, setting her alight. It took every spare thought to keep her fire under control as he kissed her, his tongue an artist as it painted her lips, neck, chest. She moaned as one of his hands wandered up the back of her shirt, her cloak long since dropped to the floor with his.

“You know this place better than me,” he said between kisses. “How likely are we to get caught?”

Aelin growled in response, summoning him closer. His shirt, so pristine for a blacksmith, was in her way. In her haste and forgetting her own strength, she tore it in two, leaving it in shreds in the floor. It only spurred him on, and he turned them around so he could sit her on a bench.

The sex wasn’t graceful, but by the Gods was it good. He had her clothes off in minutes, and she had never felt so aroused in her life. It was like every nerve she had was being played by his magic; like she was the piano and he was the master musician. It was quick, his tempo perfect to hit the exact spot it needed to every time, but he also had a stamina unseen in the human boys she had been with. He was a man; a full-blooded fae male that was biologically engineered to make her moan so hard she forgot her own name. At one point, when the tips of her hair had started to curl with flames, she nearly shoved him away mid-thrust. But as he looked at her fire unfazed, he simply doused them with a pinch of his own magic. Knowing she could truly let loose, she gave all that she had to him.

And by the Gods it was the best she’d ever had.

They were panting on the floor of a broom closet, him big enough that he had to prop his knees up. She was curled into his side, leaving thank you kisses alongside his body. He was puffed, and let out an airy laugh. “You should stop, or I’ll have to take you again.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to go for round, what was it? Six?” To let him know, if it wasn’t already obvious, that she was joking, she left an open mouth kiss to each of his abs. He was the best thing she had ever tasted.

Aelin looked up to the window the size of a plate and groaned. The sky was starting to lighten, and soon the palace would be awake and she’d have to meet the Wendlyn convoy sent by the Whitethorns. “But you’re right. I have to go.”

She stood up, and trying not to step on him, redressed. He eventually did the same, but not after admiring her body greedily.

“Last question, will I see you again?” she asked, not hopeful. Shady’s attracted transients.

“I’m staying here for the next week at the least. Do with that what you will.”

She grinned, kissing him once more before running away from the pub, drunker than any alcohol could make her. It wasn’t until she was back in her room that she remembered she hadn’t asked him the most important question of all – his name.

___

“Elide, I’m serious. It was mind blowing. Like, I could have set that building on literal fire. I nearly did at one stage!” Aelin whispered furiously as she sped-walked to the main hall. She was late, as per usual, but at least she had Elide at her side. It wouldn’t be so awkward with her there.

“Please, pleasestop talking.” And Aedion was there too, and in genuine pain from their conversation.

“Where can I get a man like that? You mentioned he had a brother? I’ll pay you to take me with you tonight.”

“Won’t it seem desperate if I go to find him less than a day after I left him? And I think that’s prostitution.”

“Aelin I do so much for you. The least you can do in return is help me get dicked down to the nth degree.”

“I’m going to impale myself on my sword.”

“Shut up, Aedion!”Elide and Aelin said simultaneously, before giggling to themselves.

She nearly tripped on her gown, the green organza ruffles on her dress a pain in the ass to walk in. She could also feel her crown starting to tip off her head, but Elide quickly grabbed it and pinned it back before it could. The sight of the three of them running towards the hall doors made the sentries guarding it laugh as they put their fingers to their lips, silently shushing them.

“They’re all in there, Princess, they’re just waiting for you.”

Aelin put a fake smile on her face, dreading who she’d find waiting behind that door. She stood herself in front of it, Elide to her right and Aedion to her left. She smoothed down the front of her dress, making sure everything was perfect to give the best, first royal impression she could. She had to impress the old fae that was to train her, lest she be sent to Wendlyn. Her hair was fine, her crown straight. Her dress was fitted in all the right areas but flared out to give the impression of modesty. Her favourite jewels were on, and her shoes – oh fuck, she’d forgotten to put her shoes on.

The sentries opened the door, not giving her a chance to panic.

“Introducing, the crown princess Aelin accompanied by her destined bloodsworn, Prince Aedion Ashryver, and handmaiden Lady Elide Lochan.” The booming voice welcomed her as she walked through the double doors, the people in the room dropping to their knees to meet her. The walls were lined with familiar and unfamiliar faces. All but her parents, sitting on their thrones, and one other stayed standing. A male, tall with silver hair, eyes the colour of evergreens. He was standing on the steps leading to the thrones, clad in armour and navy and black fabrics, clothing fine enough for a king.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Princess Aelin, might I please introduce Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle, your new mentor.”

#rowaelin #elorcan #fanfic #AU!#sjm #throne of glass #kingdom of ash

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