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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 3 years

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#259

“Seth? Right? C’mon in. Your brother told you who I am? Good. Want a beer?... Here you go. Let’s go out to the back deck. The sun went down, and the cool evening air is starting to kick in. Have a seat…. Ok. Seth, do you know why you are here? Let me be blunt. Your brother David owes me a lot of money. A lot. He’s been doing jobs for me that I need someone I can trust to do. But that’s barely covering the interest. I told him he needs to start working down the principal. So, he offered me… you….

“That’s right he sold you to me. You are going to whore off his debt…. Shut the fuck up. The deal is set. Have some more beer; it will help you to deal with what I need to go over with you….

“Your brother probably told you that I am a powerful man. Hopefully he didn’t tell you what I did. I will share with you one part of my business that you will be a part of. I have several whore agencies across several states. They ain’t like the whorehouses in the movies. The girls never see money; they show up at a set time and do whatever the man wants. They do not say no. They get to live in city, and they show their clients the best the city has to offer. They have everything paid for and get a nice credit card too.

“A few years ago—hell it’s more like ten or so, —I was convinced to do the same but on the fag side. Now, I knew nothing about fag sex, and it disgusted me. Once I got over the visuals, the business was just like the girls. The difference I found out was that I had to have two sets of whores—fag boys like yourself, and men old enough to be your father.

“It was Frankie, one of my goons, who told me that there is a lot money to be made by men taking the dominant role. I didn’t believe it. So, he arranged for me to watch him from a distance him work over this faggot. He didn’t tell me how much he was earning. When I saw this fag hand over three hundred bucks, I knew I needed to get into this. I mean my guy did barely anything other than smack the fag around, call him names, and sit on the faggot’s face at the end. That fag ate that fat ass while pounding its pud. Frankie even went over to the fag’s wallet and took an additional hundred out of it. And wouldn’t you know, that fag boy was loving life.

“Needless to say, that was how I got into the fag whoring business. I had Frankie lead it; he even got somewhat in shape, and now he’s my most popular whore men. Wait a minute, you know him. He fucked you behind a dumpster in the alley behind that fag bar a couple weeks ago. When I saw you at David’s birthday partner at my tavern and he told me that you were his sperm burping brother, I sent Frankie to find out more about you. I know that you can take a good pounding, face slaps, rough housing. Frankie also told me that you cleaned off his cock after we was done and that you drank his piss. You even begged him for more as he walked away from you, naked covered in piss behind the dumpster. That’s all I needed to hear.

“After meeting with your brother, all I had to do was press the massive debt. I knew how self-serving he was. He sold you out so fucking fast. And now I own you. Now strip faggot….

“You do realize who I am? No one ever disobeys one of my direct commands. Now think about your next move real carefully. STRIP YOU FUCKING FAGGOT. Take your time standing up. That drug I put in your beer will make you kinda dizzy if you stand too fast. Yeah, I didn’t want you to run back to your car. Kid, when you came in that door, you were mine. That’s it. Accept your fate. Good boy.

“Yeah, after Frankie roughed up that fag, I was curious. He arranged for me to use one of his regulars who was blindfolded. It was so much fun to kick and punch that faggot only to have him crawl to me, begging for more. With each time, I got more wicked, and they wanted more. I had a few fags over the years locked up and had the best of all worlds. My wife provides me with companionship. My girlfriend offers sensual making love and snuggling. And my faggot takes all my rage filled abuse.

“Underwear needs to go too. Let’s see what you have. Not bad. Looks like you are excited about being naked in front of me. That’s a lot of pre-cum. Decent sized balls. I’d say you are about six inches long. The shaft is a bit thin, but the head is good size. Your foreskin is not too long. That’s good. If there’s going to be one sweaty stinky dick around here, it will be mine. If yours becomes a problem, we’ll get you circumcised.

“What? Faggot, you are nothing more to me than my pickup. If I want to modify you out, I sure as hell am going to. I modify all my property. Tattoos, piercing, permanent hair removal, castration, branding, and so on. But actually, I am a bit cautious. I made the mistake of castrating a fag and regretted it afterwards. He just didn’t seem right to me. The cutter I went to tried to put in fake balls, but it still didn’t seem right. I ended up replacing that fag with another.

“I am looking for my perfect fag. I’m planning on letting my girlfriend go, but sometimes I need that close touch. Not going to do that with my wife. Every day now I realize that I want to be with faggots over women. Faggots are so much easier to mold into what I want. And every now and then I might snuggle with one.

“I like what I see. I want to see your cumload. Jerk off for me. I’ll give you a few minutes to do so. When you do, shoot in your spare hand. I want to see the quantity. I’m going to get your collar; it’s probably done charging. I’m also going to take your car keys. You ain’t going anywhere. Continue jacking….

“….Did you cum? You did! Good fag. When was the last time you came? Yesterday morning? Well that’s a good load. Here, lock this collar around your neck. Ok, so here’s the deal. You can jack off as often as you like, whenever you like as long as I am not using you. If I catch you jacking off, don’t stop. If you are watching porn, continue. But know this, no matter if you haven’t cum in days or you just had a massive orgasm, should I require your use, I fully expect 100% horniness and enthusiasm.

“This remote is hooked up to your collar. With this button… you fall to the floor just like that. Hurt’s like a mother fucker hunh? That’s on low. Remember that. It is also set up to shock you should you cross a 20-foot perimeter of the house. I am notified by an app on my phone when you do something that stupid. Also, the garage and my office on the third floor are completely off limits. You will not fare well should you cross that threshold without me.

“Bring your cock over here. Is your dick head sensitive. It is! Fuck yes! As you get soft, it’s driving you crazy. Good. Good. I see a problem here. Your pubic hair is all over the place. You shouldn’t have hair down here. Look how long this hair is. There’s enough so that I can twirl a bunch around my finger. With a firm yank,… it comes out in one clump. Aww shut the fuck up. Most of the time your screams of pain will turn me on, but now it’s just annoying. Another clump on the other side, and it doesn’t even look like you lost any.

“Look at me faggot. Say ‘Thank you.’ Good fag. Open your mouth. Here eat your pubic hair. Go on chew it. Nasty? I know, now swallow. And here’s… another bunch. Swallow these…. And these… And these… You’ll be permanently shaved in the near future so you won’t have to do much pubic hair eating.

“While you finish your snack, let me take you around the place and show you your duties. This is the kitchen. David told me that you went to culinary school but then dropped out. Well, you will be doing all the cooking here. Cleaning too.

“Let’s go downstairs…. This is your room, although you really don’t have privacy. Over there is your cot. Next to it is the plug you will put into your collar every night. I am notified on my app should the power level drop below 75%. That’s equivalent for not charging for a full week. Unless I just slam you with shocks, I should never get one of those notifications.

“You have a wash basin there, and your toilet is there. There’s your douche hose over there in the shower. No, I haven’t gotten around to buying it a toilet seat; the cold porcelain is fine. And I haven’t hooked up the hot water down here.

“Let’s go up to the Master bedroom…. You never climb into my bed unless I invite you in. In fact no non-sexual furniture for you either without permission. Through that door is the master bath. You will keep this place spotless. That includes licking clean my toilet. The rimseat next to it is when I want to make you toilet paper or a full toilet.

“And here’s the playroom. It’s totally soundproofed. You are going to suffer a lot in here. Screaming is encouraged. In fact, what time is it? Seven. Well we might as well start now. Get on all fours—knees and elbows. Spread those knees wide. Every night you will present yourself in this position, as you will every morning.

“Don’t get too excited. I am going to fuck you good, long, and deep. But that won’t until the end. We got a long way to go. You see, the only people who knows my affinity for preferring the boys to the girls are Frankie, me, and now you. Your brother thinks I’m adding you to my harem of fags. This is something that cannot get out. And if it does, I will know it came from you, and I want you to know the perpetual hell that will come your way.

“Tonight is a test of what you can expect, but keep in mind, tonight’s suffering will be only five hours long, much shorter than what will be if my preference is ever widely known.

“And after the paddling your ass to a welted mess, whipping your back until it turns to bloody hamburger, kicking your balls until they are swollen to twice their size, bruising up your face, and fucking you with very little lube, I may feel the need to snuggle up with you afterwards.

“But first, there’s a lot to do before we do that. Oh look your balls are just ripe for a good old fashioned full-force kick. Every night and every morning you will get one to always remind you what you are.

“Faggot right now with this kick your hell begins.”

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fangirlovestuff · 3 years

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More Than Meets The Eye - Steve Rogers x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! this one is for @s1utforfictionalcharacters, who asked for a Steve x reader enemies to lovers a while ago. thank you so much for bearing with me and being patient, and i hope you enjoy!!<3

Summary: Between figuring out what was the Tesseract doing at a Hydra base and if it even is the Tesseract, you need to navigate your relationaship with one annoying, broody Captain. Honestly, you might prefer the Hydra thing.

this isn’t set in the mcu timeline, but takes inspiration from a few mcu movies. it’s not canon compliant and everyone’s alive:)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: lowkey angst and some tension, maybe a curse word or two? tell me if i missed anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Rogers!" you heard Tony's voice over the comms, "Where the hell are you?"

"Babysitting," you heard Steve's irritated voice, not only over the comms but also behind you, right before you saw him dashing past you to punch the Hydra agent you were fighting square in the jaw.

"Well, get America's ass over here, now," Tony grunted, clearly mid-fight himself, "we need backup."

"Go!" you yelled at him, spinning to take out another agent that was coming up behind Steve, "I got this!"

"You sure?" he asked, his tone sarcastically degrading, jumping while kicking two agents simultaneously. Showoff.

"Yes," you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, "I can handle them, go help the others!"

"Alright," he grunted as he pushed off another agent before running back in the direction he came from, towards the rest of the team.

"Cap, you coming or what?" Natasha spoke on the comms, calmer than Tony, but it was obvious she's just as in need of backup as he was.

"Coming!" Steve replied, before it went relatively quiet.

You finished up disarming the rest of the agents in your wing of the building. No one was calling for you on the comms yet, so you decided to make another round in the perimeter, make sure you didn't miss anything.

God knows captain know-it-all is gonna be on your ass about it if that's the case. And honestly, you have more than enough of that as is.

As you were walking down the hallway, you noticed a strange, glowing light coming from under the doors. Upon finding it was unlocked, you opened it to reveal a room that was entirely filled with the same blueish light you had seen, and it was all coming from a desk in the middle of it.

Approaching slowly and letting your eyes time to adjust, you got closer and closer, realizing the shiny object was a peculiar blue cube. A cube you knew well, perhaps even too well.

"Guys, if you're done over there, you might wanna come to my wing. There's something you're gonna want to see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, we have to keep looking, maybe they left some blueprints or anything that can indicate how they were planning on using it," Steve commanded, "or already have."

"Wait," you said before everyone split up to follow his orders, "as important as the why they got it is, I think the first question we should be asking is how the hell they got it. I thought it was locked away in the Asgard safe?" you looked at Bruce, who out of all of you had the most contact with Thor.

"It was, the last time I checked," he frowned. "I'll see if I can contact Thor, see if he knows anything."

"You do that," Tony interjected, "the rest of you, follow Cap's order while he and I have a little chat. Shall we Rogers?" he pulled a frowning Steve aside, while you all split up to try and find any information you could salvage.

In your search, you ran into Natasha. As you were both scouring the same desk for clues, working together like a well-oiled machine, you asked, "what did Tony want from Cap?"

"Probably to ask him where the hell was he when we needed his backup," she said matter-of-factly. "Or, you know, where the heck he was. We all know Steve's proper like that," she smiled, and you let out a chuckle at her words.

"Well, that’s good," you remarked, "since he really should've been there for you guys. I don't know what was that all about," you scrunched up your nose. "Nothing here," you added, closing the drawer you were looking through.

"Yeah, here too," Natasha closed her own drawer, "let's go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that day, you were all having dinner together as you went over some papers the others found at the Hydra base. Since you were already in the same place, you split the takeout, taking caution not to spill any of it.

"Cap," you asked, seeing the saltshaker was too far for you to reach, "Can you pass me th-" your words were abruptly cut by him planting it in your hand, going back to whatever it is he was reading.

"Thanks," you muttered, going back to your paperwork as well.

This might be the place to mention that pretty much ever since you joined the team, Steve exhibited a certain… coldness to you. Arrogance, indifference, call it what you want – from day one, Steve Rogers made sure you knew he was better than you.

And considering he was literally Captain America, it's not like you thought you were ever better than him in the first place.

You blended in with the rest of the team seamlessly, fighting and training among them. I mean sure, there were jokes about you being "the new kid", but it was just that – jokes. No one, or at least no one but Steve, seemed to view you as inferior.

You still fought well together, it was your job. Hell, he just passed you the salt before you even finished asking for it. Being attuned to each other's actions and attitude in that way made it all the more obvious how much he seemed to covet his leadership position, his place of dominance.

It got on your nerves. So. Much.

You see, if he were like that to everyone else on the team, so be it. But the absolute majority of it was directed towards you – the new girl. And it was clear that's all he ever saw you as. A girl.

Even that salt thing – he handed it over so impatiently, so suddenly, like one would handle an irritating child.

You had hoped he'd get over it at some point, but so far, that didn't seem to be the case. Well, you're not planning on going anywhere, so you'll both have to get over yourselves at some point.

"Hey!" Steve snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, shaking you from your reverie. "C'mon, listen up. Tony found something."

Oh well, that "some point" is probably not today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, Hydra wanted to use this," Natasha gestured at the Tesseract, "To power up a weapon they've designed?"

"That's the gist of it," Tony confirmed. "But from the looks of it, this thing is a lot more powerful than it seems. They planned on powering up a whole armored aircraft, plus all of their rifles using this cube. If that's possible, and by the looks of it, it very well might be, it's a lot stronger than you'd think."

"Wait, what do you mean their rifles as well?" you asked, your brows furrowing, "like, split this thing into pieces?"

"No, it looks like they were planning to project its power somehow, like…" Tony trailed off, struggling to explain.

"Like… Bluetooth?" you suggested.

"Yeah," tony snickered, "pretty much."

"Okay, but they didn't do that yet, right? We stopped them?" you looked around to the rest of your teammates before looking back at Tony.

"Seems like we did," Steve answered instead. "Bruce, any update on how they managed to get it?"

"Didn't hear anything back yet," the man in question shook his head, "I'll try again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bruce ended up getting an answer from Thor, telling him to come to Asgard, you immediately volunteered to go with him. It was partially because you've never actually been there, and you were very curious as to why Thor would ask Bruce to come.

But also, you could use a break from a certain Captain.

You tried to ask Bucky and Sam what his deal with you was, several times, but they just shrugged and gave you vague, unhelpful answers. You even considered trying to convince Wanda to just tell you what he thinks about you, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of bothering you so much that you'd stoop that low.

So lately, you've been just trying to avoid him, which usually worked just fine, since it's not like he was that adamant about being around you either. That is, until you said you'd go with Bruce.

"No way," he immediately objected.

"Why?" you asked, "Bruce might need some backup, and I'd like to visit Asgard. Win-win."

"We need you here, going over the papers."

"C'mon Cap, I think we both know I do better out there in the field than I do with all the blueprints. Tony's way better with that, he's the only one who does it anyway."

"So what, you're just gonna go on a field trip?" he sneered.

"No, I'm going to look out for my friend and teammate." It took everything in you to keep your voice level.

"That's nice. Cause it would be a shame if Banner had to watch your back while you went on vacation."

You scoffed. "Where did you even get that idea? I said I was gonna give Banner backup. That's the first thing I said, cause that's the most important thing. End of story."

"Fine." Steve shrugged.

"Fine?"

"Yeah, if Banner's willing to take you with him, go."

"Good," you nodded.

"Great."

Somewhat awkwardly, you shuffled out of the room to tell Bruce to count you in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha was the one to send both you and Bruce off to Asgard, the rest being otherwise occupied.

"Be safe," she told the both of you, holding each of your shoulders with one of her hands, before stepping away.

"We will," Bruce promised and you nodded, and just in time the Bifrost came down, taking the both of you where you needed to get.

Thor was the one to greet you, taking you both in for a warm hug before his face became serious.

"I didn't call you all the way here for nothing," he said, "come with me to the palace."

As you were on your way, he explained. "When you told me you encountered the Tesseract in Midgard, I immediately checked in our vault. Sure enough, there's still a Tesseract there."

"A Tesseract? I thought there was just the one," you frowned.

"We did too," Thor replied, "which is why I wanted you both to come see it for yourselves. Maybe you'd be able to point out some differences."

Getting to the palace, you wasted no time going down to the vault. And there it was – the Tesseract.

"How…" you trailed off. It looked completely identical to the one you had found on earth, the same blue tinted glint lighting up its surroundings.

"That's what I was hoping you might have an answer for," Thor sighed, his brows furrowing. "You said the one you encountered was previously in the possession of a group called… Chimera?"

"Hydra," Bruce corrected him. "And yes, we found it in one of their bases."

"Is it possible that the one we found was a fake?" you asked, lifting your eyes from the Tesseract. "Or maybe this one is the fake? Is there a way to know?"

"The only way to know is to try and use them," Bruce sighed, "but trying to wield the power of an infinity stone can be dangerous and destructive to the one who tries. It's something we should try and avoid."

"Okay," you thought, "can't we try and take this one to earth? See if maybe Tony could run some tests on them both, find us a lead as to which one's the real one?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Bruce agreed, "or at least the best one we've got. Can we take it?"

"Of course. I trust you to guard it," he looked at Bruce fondly.

"Thank you," Bruce's eyes and smile are sincere as he shakes Thor's hand.

You pick up the Tesseract tentatively, putting it in your bag and looking back up at Bruce, whose handshake with Thor was still lingering. You hated to interrupt, but you two needed to go back to earth to fill your friends in if you wanted to solve this mystery.

"Shall we?" you asked, somewhat softly.

"Yeah," Bruce shook his head slightly, "Let's go."

You trailed behind Bruce and Thor as you made your way back to the Bifrost, thinking it over.

If the Tesseract you found on earth was the fake, then why would Hydra have a fake? And if the one that was currently in your bag was the fake, then why would they just leave the real one lying around while the Avengers stormed their base? And at any case, how did they manage to make such an accurate replica?

"Thank you, Thor," you said sincerely once you reached the end of the Bifrost. "We're going to figure this out."

"I know you will," he said, and touched your shoulder affectionately.

You said your goodbyes, and then, you and Bruce started to make the journey home, until suddenly you felt a force push you out of the Bifrost, and before you knew it you landed on dirt, rolling a few times, Bruce landing a few feet away from you.

Hurriedly getting up, you helped Bruce to his feet as well, before the two of you looked around to find yourself in the middle of what seemed to be a desert, but it was like nothing you've seen before.

The sand was orange, red, much darker than it was in deserts you've been to. You and Bruce landed in some sort of valley, surrounded by large dunes of the dark sand, creating a perfect circle around you.

"Have any idea where we are?" you asked, trying to keep your cool, "Or how we got here?"

"I-"

His words were cut off by the sound of a gun cocking behind you. Instinctively, you crouched down and spun around, sending your leg out, taking the man down with a kick to his ankles.

But it wasn't enough. Before you could fully get back up, you and Bruce were already surrounded by agents, and the fight quickly escalated into a hand-to-hand one, having to take on multiple agents at a time. At some point, Bruce hulked out, but even then, you were still fighting them all simultaneously.

You barely managed to take in the glint of a knife from the corner of your eye before the felt the sharp sting of it on your ribs, your hand automatically going to hold the wound. The man started running in the other direction, which was when you realized you weren't the objective of this attack.

Your bag was.

"Bruce!" you yelled, trying to get his attention, as you started trying to run after the agent.

But before Bruce could even notice you, a deep rumble sounded through the air, the prominent crackling of thunder. You turned around just in time to see Thor coming down from the sky, Mjolnir clad tightly in his fist, sending bolts of lightning at your enemies.

You turned back and tried to keep running, but you couldn't do it fast enough, the wound in your ribcage still bleeding, and soon, the agent disappeared from sight.

You were panting when the battle died down, a mere few minutes after Thor's arrival. You didn't turn around, even as you sensed Bruce and Thor approaching you from behind.

"I lost it," you said, still unable to meet their eyes.

"They took it," Bruce said gently. "Now, let me take a look at that wound."

Well, you thought, that's not how Steve's going to see it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You lost it?" Steve asked, his disbelief clear. His eyes were trained on you, a frown on his face.

"She got hurt trying to protect it, Steve," Bruce answered before you could. "We'll get it back."

Steve's eyes didn't waver from yours, even as Bruce spoke.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you wanted to. You cleared your throat, continuing stronger, "I did everything I could."

"I told you, you shouldn't have gone out there," he sighed, frustrated.

"Really, Cap?" you asked, "is this the time for 'I told you so's? for a hundred-year-old that's really fucking childish," you said through your teeth.

"Watch it," he snapped, "next time, maybe if you listen to me you won't get hurt."

"If I'm that bad of a soldier, Captain," you spat out, "am I not dispensable to you? Why do you even care if I get hurt? I bet it would've been just the same to you if I died but you still had the Tesseract."

Your words rendered him speechless, and you turned to walk towards the med bay. Bruce offered you his arm, but the look you sent him made it very obvious you weren't interested in company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wound healed well. You and Steve were… civil, to say the best.

You'd admit your words that day you were back from Asgard were harsh. You'd even admit that to his face, if he'd change his attitude towards you. Which he didn't, so really, maybe he deserved to hear them.

Anyways, a few days after the Asgard thing, the wound was fine, and you had an idea.

"Hey," you asked Tony, who happened to be next to you at the moment, "what if we go ask Strange?"

"What?" he looked up from the robot he was currently tinkering with.

"What if we went to Strange to ask him about the Tesseract?" you repeated, "he'd probably know more than us about this stuff."

Tony wasted no time in calling a team meeting, in which you told the others your idea about reaching out to Strange.

"That's a really good idea," Steve said.

Taken aback, you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, he continued, "I'm coming with you."

Yep, it was way too good to be true.

"Why?" you asked, frowning. "I thought Tony would come, since he's already had a run-in with him before."

"Yes, but I think we can agree he's not the most diplomatic person out there," Steve smirked.

"I'm right here," Tony remarked dryly.

Steve paid him no mind and continued, "And besides, he's pretty much the only one except Bruce that knows enough to figure out Hydra's blueprints, and we still need all hands on deck in that front. So, I'm coming with you," he finished in a tone that left no room for argument.

You considered objecting anyways, but knew whatever you'd say would sound childish and tactless, so you simply nodded at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since the Sanctum Dr. Strange usually resided in was in New York, there was no need for Steve and you to take the Quinjet, but you did take a car from Tony's collection, which Steve drove. The car ride was filled with quite the uncomfortable silence, but at least it was better than arguing, right?

Small victories.

When Steve parked the car about a block away from the Sanctum, you both got out swiftly, blending right in with your civilian clothes, and making your way to the doorstep.

There, Steve knocked on the door hesitantly. You both listened, but there was no answer. You held onto the handle and managed to open the unlocked door easily. You exchanged a look with Steve, both of you on high alert, and entered through the door, Steve closing it behind you.

You both silently stood in the threshold, contemplating your next move. Eventually, you took a tentative step forward, and just then a red object whipped right in front of your eyes, making you stumble backwards, right into Steve. You quickly turned around to apologize, but before you noticed it the red fabric was wrapped tightly around your arms, holding them tight against your torso. Steve was in a similar predicament, and since the cape wasn’t that long, you two were left tied face to face and extremely close to each other.

You tried to wiggle out of the fabric's hold, but it was almost like it tightened with your every move, adjusting itself accordingly. You struggled against it, trying to move even the slightest bit, but it wouldn't budge. You sighed, looking up at Steve.

Oh my god, he was way closer than you'd realized. His wide frame towering over you, you swallowed dryly before you whispered, "What now?"

Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps carried through the halls, and soon enough, Dr. Stephen Strange was descending down the stairs of the New York Sanctum to greet you.

"Hello," he said, his face indifferent, "I wasn't expecting you."

"Well, we weren't expected to get so… tied up, so that makes three of us," Steve remarked, prompting you to chuckle.

"Hello, Dr. Strange," you introduced yourself to him, "the Captain and I were wondering if you could help us with some… Tesseract trouble."

"Sounds awful," he smirked slightly. "Follow me," he started going up the stairs again and you exchanged a look with Steve. "Oh right," he gestured with his hand, and the red fabric detangled itself from the two of you, and turned out to be a cloak as it wrapped around Strange's shoulders. "I almost forgot," the man chuckled, "Now come on."

You and Steve exchanged another look as you rubbed your arm where the cloak dug into it a little, before following Strange up the stairs and into the library, where he offered you two chairs to sit in before sitting down in front of you. In the air. He was sitting down while floating.

Still less weird than the cloak, in your opinion.

"So," he started, "what, uh, Tesseract trouble are you having, exactly?"

Steve and you took turns explaining the situation to him, from finding a Tesseract in a Hydra base to losing the one that was previously in Asgard. Steve, to your relief and wonder, said nothing about it being your fault, but just said it wasn't in your possession anymore.

"So," you summed up, "we were wondering if you knew how anyone could manage to replicate the Tesseract this well, and how can we tell which one's the fake one. Without using them, of course."

"Well, those are great questions. I don't know of another way to determine if an infinity stone is indeed real besides taking the risk and trying to use it, so I can't help you with that. But as for the fake, I believe opening the Tesseracts will provide a good enough answer. You see, the Tesseract isn't that hard to fake. Might be a little expensive, sure, but some lights and plastic and you're set, and from what I understand Hydra isn't exactly struggling financially. But," he sighed, "you can’t fake an infinity stone. For most people, once you'll come in direct contact with it, you'll feel its power, and also its destructive properties."

"So the only way to know if an infinity stone is real is to risk touching it?" Steve asked.

"As far as I know of, yes," Strange nodded.

"Thank you," you said, "for your help. We sure get back to the compound, but we'll let you know if there are any big developments."

When Steve and you got back to the compound, everyone was already waiting for you, and you told them what Strange told you. Together, you all went to open the tesseract you had found in the Hydra base.

"Be careful not to touch what's inside," you warned, and Tony put of his Iron Man arm before breaking the side of the glowing cube, opening it to find…

A bunch of wires and lightbulbs. They didn't even try to make it look like an infinity stone.

"Well, the one in Asgard could've also been a fake," Natasha shrugged. "This doesn't really tell us anything. C'mon guys, we'll continue the search tomorrow," she touched your shoulder comfortingly before slipping away.

You were about to do the same when you saw Steve fidgeting with his sleeve, around where the cloak was wrapped around him. You walked up to him.

"You okay?" you asked, expecting him to brush you off.

"Yeah, I just think this cape held on a little too strong," he chuckled, removing his hand to reveal a stain on the fabric of his right suit sleeve, on you knew all too well was blood.

"Oh my god," you frowned. "C'mon, I'll help you clean it up," you gestured towards the med bay.

The walk there was brief and silent, and when you got there, you told Steve to sit down before ripping his sleeve enough to see the shallow wound.

"You don't have to do this," Steve said, as you looked for some gauze pad and wet it with water.

"I know," you said, "but since I'm the reason we needed to go there in the first place, I am doing this."

"You know it's not your fault, right? You couldn’t have known he'd have a magical cape that ties up people."

"That's not what I was talking about," you mumbled, before cleaning the wound gently.

Steve sighed. "I guess I do owe you an apology for the Asgard thing. I acted like a jerk. I'm sorry."

"No, you were right," you chuckled bitterly, "it's my fault we lost what might've been the real space stone to Hydra. You were just the only one willing to admit that."

"Well, I hope you know what you said about me then wasn't true. I care. You know, if you get hurt. And I wouldn't want anyone to die so I can have anything."

"I know," you said dryly, "you're too perfect for that."

You finished cleaning the wound and started bandaging it.

"That's not- god, I really do have a way with words, don't I? you probably hate me by now."

"I don't hate you, Steve," you looked up from his arm to his eyes, and he smiled at you. "Relax, it doesn't mean I like you all that much either," you smirked, prompting him to laugh.

"Yeah, that's fair, I guess. Thank you," he gestured to his now bandaged arm.

"Sure," you sent a small smile his way before walking away.

Maybe Steve Rogers wasn't that bad after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, scratch that, Steve Rogers was the worst.

The conversation actually started out civil. Nice, even.

"Hey, Cap," you started, "do you know if Bruce found anything on the wiring in the fake Tesseract yet?"

"Nope," he turned to face you.

"Oh. Well, thanks," you smiled, "I'll just…" you gestured at the exit, but he stopped you.

"Wait. Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Can you…" he gestured at the empty chair in front of him, and you sat down.

"About the whole Tesseract thing," he started, "I think you should consider sitting this one out."

"What?" you frowned.

"I just…" he sighed, "I think it might be better if you sat this one out."

"Steve, I found the Tesseract in the first place," you said, getting angrier by the second, "I'm not backing down from this."

"You found the fake Tesseract," he corrected, "and lost what might have been the real one."

"I thought you said it wasn't on me."

"It's not, but still."

"I don't get it, a few days ago you were telling me it wasn't my fault and now you're benching me because of it?"

"I just… you're clearly very invested in this-"

"Which is why I deserve to stay on this mission," you cut him off, fighting to keep your voice level.

"Which is why I think you should sit it out," he ignored you, "because you don't need to get yourself hurt for this."

"I'm an Avenger just like you," you snapped, "you might get hurt as well. So might everyone else. I don't get why I'm any different."

"I told you, because you're too emotionally invested," he insisted, his tone rising.

"Oh, you're benching me cause I'm 'emotional'? really? That's your excuse?"

"That's not an excuse, I-"

"No, tell me, Steve, what's your problem with me? Just spit it out, clearly you have one. What have I done to you to make you hate me?" you were yelling now, exasperated at his flawed logic.

"I don't hate you."

"That's all you have to say?" you scoffed. "You know what? If you're letting whatever your problem is with me to get in the way of the mission, maybe you're the emotional one."

The charged atmosphere was interrupted by Natasha's frame showing up in the doorway.

"Hey guys," she started, before looking between the two of you. "Is this a bad time?" she waited a second before shrugging, "Doesn't matter. There are sightings of suspicious activity midtown, we think it can be Hydra. We gotta move, be down in five," she stated, before walking down the hallway, leaving Steve and you alone once more.

"I-" he started.

"Let's go," you said at the same time, before simply turning away to go and suit up. You had a battle to win, no matter what he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So," Tony started once you were all on the Quinjet, "Here's what we know – Hydra is probably in the possession of the real Tesseract, since we just got word of people seeing a big aircraft over midtown. My guess, they wanted to test the new weapons out before using them on a larger scale," he said, "which is why it would be the best thing to stop them now."

You split up into groups, Tony, Wanda and Sam going after the aircraft, Bucky and Steve go one way on the ground, you and Natasha the other. Thanking every god you knew you weren't paired up with Steve, you and Natasha ran and turned into a large square, starting to point people away from the steady stream of Hydra agents that was coming your way.

You and Natasha were both fighting off the agents together, most of the civilians already cleared from the area, when suddenly, they just… stopped, all in unison.

"Avengers," a voice with a heavy accent boomed through the air, presumably from the aircraft, magnified by speakers, "I know what you're here for," the voice chuckled. "Come and get it."

All at once, the Hydra agents in front of you pulled out something from their bags, or the pockets of their jackets, and it took you a second to realize what it is – exact replicas of the Tesseract. Dozens of them, maybe even hundreds.

You looked over at Natasha, who was just as exasperated as you were. "We gotta break these things," she said, and you nodded in understanding, charging at the men and women with renewed energy.

Because this was your chance to fix what you broke, to make things right. To show Steve you're better than your mistakes.

That was the mantra that was going in your head, as you smashed Tesseract after Tesseract, even as you found nothing but wires, you kept repeating it – fix what you broke.

Slowly but surely, you and Natasha tackled and defeated more and more agents, moving closer towards where they were coming from – the aircraft, that was lowering more and more, sending out more agents, in a wave that seemed never ending.

Expect when you got closer, you noticed that there was a staircase going down from it. A staircase that at the top of stood a small an in old fashioned army clothes, holding, how not, a small, glowing cube in his hand.

Your vision zeroed in on him. You had a target.

Barely stopping to disarm the other agents, you quickly made your way through the crowd of agents surrounding you, until you were right at the bottom of the staircase. You looked up to see the man still standing on top, smiling at the chaos unraveling at his feet.

You decided to take advantage of the fact he hasn't seen you yet, and climbed the staircase from the bottom side, hanging on to creases and bumps, to keep the advantage. When you got to the top, you tried to swing yourself over the rails. You would've fallen down if a hand wouldn't have reached out, catching your arm and throwing you back on the staircase, right side up.

"Ah, the new kid," the man snickered above you, "I've heard about you. Were you really the one they sent here?"

"No one sent me," you hissed as you got up. "Now hand over the stone and it'll be much more pleasant for you."

"So much spite," he laughed, "but alas, I don't think I will, sweetheart."

"Whatever you say," you delivered a poignant kick to his knee, "sweetheart."

You tried to punch him, but this time he was quicker, avoiding your blow and landing one of his own on your shoulder. You shrugged it off and continued to try and pry the stone from his hands. The struggle was drawing attention, and Natasha yelled at you to watch out just in time before a Hydra agent from down there shot at you, only missing narrowly.

You continued to fight the man, who was stronger than he let on, considering he was fending you off with only one hand, but you also had getting shot to worry about, which was in his favor.

At last, you managed to knock the Tesseract out of his hand, and it fell to the ground in a shattering sound. Out of the broken pieces, there were no wires to be seen, only a stone.

Bingo.

You heard Steve shout something at you from far down, but you weren't paying attention, instead diving for the stone, grasping it in your hand, along with some shards of glass that cut you, but you couldn't care less, because this was it.

Fix what you broke.

You concentrated with all your might of the stone, its power almost physically throbbing in your hand, along with the excruciating pain, but you didn't care.

Fix what you broke.

Your breathing became labored, the pain near insufferable when you finally did it – opened a portal. You didn't know where it led, but the important thing is, it wasn't here. You threw the stone away with all the power you had left in you, praying it would reach so far you'd never see it again.

Fix. What. You. Broke.

Just in time, the portal closed, and you sighed gratefully. The pain was starting to take over now, your mind dancing on the edge of consciousness when you heard voices coming towards you. You wanted to tell them you were fine, but you found yourself falling to the ground, registering the pain of the fall before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up, your first thought was that the light's too bright. It felt almost like a hangover, but way worse, and

"I didn't even drink anything," you said, before breaking into a dry cough.

In a second, Steve was there by your side with a glass of water, holding it to your mouth. You took some small sips until you calmed down enough to remember that while no, you didn't drink anything, you did wield the power of an infinity stone, which means it's a miracle you're even alive.

So really, you should be thankful all you ended up with is an awful hangover. Of sorts. A magical hangover.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked, breaking you from your reverie, and making you meet his gaze with yours.

"As much as I can be," you replied, your gaze falling to the blanket that was laid on you. "how long was I out?"

"About 18 hours," he said solemnly, "we didn't… we weren't sure if you'd wake up," he admitted, his voice dropping below a whisper by the end.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," you joked. Despite everything Steve put you through, for some reason you couldn't stand to see him this devastated.

"No, don't-" he sighed, "no one wants to get rid of you. Least of all me. Hell, thinking I'd lost you and it was my fault… hurt more than I could imagine."

"It wouldn't have been your fault, if I, you know," you shrugged, "that was my choice. I had to fix what I broke."

"No, you didn't," he insisted, his eyes snapping up to meet yours once more, "because you didn't break anything. None of this was your fault, and yet you fixed it, alone. You risked wielding the power of an infinity stone to keep earth safe, alone. You shouldn't have been alone."

"It worked out just fine. Besides, what difference would it have made, one more injured person?"

"If I was quick enough… I don't believe the stone could've taken both of us down."

"Us?" you smirked, "I didn't know we were an 'us'. But it's fine, I can deal with that, I guess," you shrugged, and Steve chuckled. You couldn't tell if you were imagining it, but it looked like the slightest of blushes was sprinkled on his cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a part of getting you back to normal, you started training again, moderately at first. But as you regained your strength, your training was almost as intense as it was before. Or maybe, even more intense.

You see, before that, you weren't training with Steve.

Since you didn't really get off to a good start, you'd always train with the others – Nat, Wanda, Sam… other non-super-soldier humans with a very human self-discipline, meaning that you could take breaks and chat in between reps.

Alas, those days were far behind you. I mean, not that far, that's just kind of dramatic, but you get it; you trained with Steve way more often and it was a nightmare.

You didn't know what standards Steve held for his other friends, but if he's like that with everyone then maybe it was better off not being his friend.

"What was that?" Steve asked, his eyes not moving from the timer, which looked comically small in his large hands.

"I said," you repeated between labored breaths and fast push-ups, "if you're like this with all your friends maybe I was better off not being one."

"Who said you are?" he shot back with a smirk, "and… time!"

You collapsed on the training room mattress, letting out a deep breath. "how much was that?"

"98 pushups in one minute," he stated, "not bad."

"Okay, Mr. captain super soldier," you breathed. "You know, maybe I should go back to doing these with Sam. A human being with normal people achievements," you sighed, faux-dreamily.

"I thought you wanted to get better?" Steve chuckled, extending his hand out to help you off the mattress.

"I'll tell him you said that," you smirked and took his hand, letting him help you up. Your touch lingered for the briefest of moments before you let go of his hand.

"Be my guest," Steve shot back, before taking a couple of sparring staffs off the wall, handing you one. An unusual technique in battle, but you found that practicing them with Steve provided a decent challenge to you both, since you were better with it than he was.

With both of you getting into a fighting stance, you started the match by dashing forward, trying to land one on his shoulder, but he quickly spun to the side, accompanied by a move of his staff that, fortunately for you, was a bit poorly aimed, thus only hit you in the arm.

You continued this back and forth for the next few minutes, one graceful move answered by a steady block from the other side, almost like a delicate dance. After a while, you felt yourself getting a little tired, and knew if you didn't end it now, he'd win.

And well, you just can't give him that kind of satisfaction.

You quickly planted your staff on the ground, using the momentum to jump up and wrap your legs around his neck, using your weight to push him down onto the mattress. You'll have to thank Natasha for that move.

His staff fell from his hand as he hit the floor, and you used your advantage to pin his arms above his head, making sure to lean enough of your weight on his torso so he couldn't move. You were both panting from the exertion of the fight, and you could feel a bead of sweat traveling down your back.

He smirked up at you. "Did Nat teach you that one?"

"Maybe," you raised your eyebrow in amusement. "But I executed it to perfection."

"You sure?" he asked, and before you could answer he broke free from your grasp, flipping the both of you so your torso was pinned below him, catching your arms the same way you did to him moments ago.

Breathing heavily, your tongue darted out to wet your lips. "Well, maybe not perfection," you murmured, "but I'd say I did pretty well. You're in nice shape for a hundred-year-old," you slowly grinned up at him.

"Just nice?" he mock pouted, not moving from his position above you.

"Yeah," you smirked, "from what I've seen."

"Well, maybe you've seen nothing yet," he suggested with a quirk of his eyebrow, his head lowering even closer to yours.

"Maybe," you said softly, standing your ground. His eyes were boring into yours, you could hear the shallow sound of his breath, feel it even.

Closing the distance between you was almost more impulse than an actual aware decision. Your lips met his soft ones, his momentum pushing you back against the mattress, your head hitting it with a soft thud you paid no mind to. One of his hands left yours, coming to cup your cheek as his tongue hesitantly entered your mouth, continuing eagerly when you let out a hum of approval, one of your hand sneaking around his neck and tangling in the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling slightly.

When you finally parted, your breaths were once again labored, but for an entirely different reason now.

"Okay, maybe you are in good shape," you rasped, shrugging as well as you could.

He chuckled before his eyes met yours. "You don't hate me," he stated incredulously.

"I already told you I didn't. I take it back, maybe old age is getting to you," you giggled.

He groaned lightly, making your laughter grow stronger.

Okay, so Steve Rogers wasn't the worst. Final verdict.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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munsnz · 3 years

Text

TRICKS OF LIFE — STEVE HARRINGTON

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯. — 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞? Overview: Y/N tells Mike information to help their lost friend, she also heads to the search party for Will with Victor. As they explore, the past unravels and there is an odd occurrence that happens. Navigation & Mixtape

Tag: @samiyamuntaha @thepowerstoner @ughgclden @mqyfield @cooperdaysgf

“So right by Mirkwood right?” Mike Wheeler’s voice peeped after listening to Y/N’s remark of details about what she heard at the Hawkins Police Department a few hours ago. It was around 7 pm, right around to where the girl was getting ready prone to the search party being held with a few of the residents of the town.

Y/N hummed a positive response to clearing out his doubts just in case he was confused by any means, this wasn’t going to help Mike, it was going to help Will get a faster chance to be retrieved to his home again.

Although Hopper disapproved the request of letting young people in the search, Y/N and Victor were eventually allowed to come along, “Yeah, but remember you have to be somewhat far from the real search group okay? We don’t want you to get caught.”

”Mike! What are you doing?” Nancy’s faint voice was caught on the other line of the phone, leading Mike to leave the phone out, Y/N overhearing them argue over the dumbest things.

Prior to the noises of Mike pushing Nancy out of the basement she guessed, the boy came back on the line, sighing loudly, “Sorry about that, Nancy gets so annoying, I still don’t know why you still hang out with her.”

”She could be a priss sometimes,” She responds, breathily giggling, clenching the ceramic telephone tighter, “But she’s still my friend if you could say.”

Continuing with their conversation based on the plan, it was perfectly assembled, safe with a high possibility of finding Will, even if it had been a day. Will couldn’t have gone far anyways. Y/N was about to speak, but was suddenly caught off guard as soon as she heard her dad in the hallway, getting prepared for the search.

”Oh shit! I have to go now,” Y/N hushed in a subtle tone, trying her best to keep away Hopper from listening to their discussion, “Remember to be home by 9 at least with flashlights. Stay safe Mike.”

The line went awfully silent, placing back the phone to its regular position on the handset, while it being attached to the wall. Rapidly, spinning to look at her father, trying to act as normal as possible, his brows furrowed at her.

”What were you doing?”

Shrugging it off calmly, Y/N breathily giggles while she put her hands on her hips saying, “I was just checking in with Victor, that’s all.”

Hopper’s eyes widened at her point, clicking his tongue as he started grabbing on his sweater for the frosty night ahead, “Funny, but I just called his mom to let him know that he was coming.”

”Right..” Y/N casually crossed her arms, cursing under her breath before she showed any subtle reaction to what she was up to. Play it cool.

In the silence of her looking around the messy home by the front door, Hopper sharply whistles while slinging the car keys in the air to catch them, making Y/N follow right behind me, pretending as if the few minutes didn’t occur. Feeling the breeze of the autumn air, both the relatives made their way to the vehicle, on their way to the small yet important search for this boy, Will Byers.

As the road got narrower and narrower, the car drove deeper into the dark woods, where Y/N could see the slender trees and branches surrounding them. The starry sky lit up the place with a soft tone of dim blues and grays painted across it on the chilly night. Watching out the window, Y/N squinted her eyes to see a figure from afar waving towards the vehicle, a familiar figure to be Victor. Hopper drove nearer, the headlights being able to guide him to the stop where a small crowd of people were surrounding along with the patrols.

Hopper cleared his throat, while he pushed the breaks down and turned to his daughter, “Hey kid, remember don’t be-“

Without hesitation, Y/N swung the car door open to step out of it, hustled her way to her so called “acquaintance”, Victor. It was more like a friend but she didn’t want to be that close with the boy. Victor wearily smiling at her.

“You seem tired,” Y/N creeps up next to him, watching the small groups of people around the mounds of dead leaves and twigs gathered for the search.

Victor’s voice brings the girl’s attention back to him, he clears his throat, “I mean dealing with Flo is already a lot for me to handle, so I suppose I am.” The two silently chuckled, the frost getting to their noses, “I heard there’s gonna be a chance of rain.”

”Really?”

“Yes really! Haven’t you seen the forecast? I’m even wearing a jacket!” Victor squinted his eyes, his eyewear raising up on the bridge of his nose and the girl shrugged aimlessly.

Y/N scoffed, shoving him slightly, “I think there’s way more important things we need to focus on instead of the weather.”

From afar, Hopper and the policemen indicated all the volunteers to gather around on the sidewalk, near the entrance of the forest. The flashing blue and red lights were turned off from the cars, everyone else preparing for the upcoming search.

”Okay guys!” The chief shouted to direct everyone, “We need to stay in the 5 mile radius from where Will was last scene! Everyone please be careful and remember to blow the whistle if you find anything at all!”

Heads were nodded, agreeing to the directions, Officers Powell and Callahan guided two separate groups from different directions, Y/N having to come along with the third group including her dad. Although the girl was 16, her father wanted to take the best care for her, after Sarah. He wanted to keep her as close as possible, but he knew she was getting older. It was just for today, he can protect her for today, now being aware of a kid disappearing in their town. Maybe one of them was next.

“I guess that’s your call genius,” Y/N told Victor as she pointed towards Powell’s group who were walking to the right side of the woods, the people disappearing one by one into the darkness.

Not budging at all, Victor stood his ground saying, “I think I’ll stick with you for now, there’s just soccer moms hoarding the group for Powell, he has a fan club.”

“You’re not wrong Vic,” She sniggered quietly but failed miserably, letting out a subtle loud laugh, both of the teenagers walking behind their group, down a steep hill leading to the inner nature.

Rushing down first to the bottom, the tall brunette reached his hand out for Y/N who was still at the top, to help her come down to his level, “M’lady?”

”Why thank you, what a gentleman!” Y/N sarcastically gasps, gripping onto his hand to steady herself below, after they jogged closer to the group, flicking their flashlights on to carry on.

Everyone glanced above the branches, the moon shining as the crickets chirped. The crisp wind running across their faces, making the trees shuffle loudly. As flashlights led them with its brightness, they all searched and searched, for any trace of the boy around the area.

Half an hour later, the air became cooler than usual, almost bringing a frostbite to their bare hands. The sound of branches and dead leaves crunching over the few people above them. In the silence, Y/N stayed near Victor and her father, hearing shouts for Will. The realization hit the girl, they were looking for lost Will, Will hasn’t appeared, he was probably in some sort of danger. She fastened her grip on the flashlight, looking around more closely, along with the rest.

”He’s a good student,” Someone decides to break the silence of the leaves and twigs crunching under their feet, Victor and Y/N turned their attention to him as they strolled in the woods.

Hopper cocks an eyebrow up and looks towards the teacher’s direction after the statement, “What?”

”Will. He’s a good student. Great one actually,” He elaborates, smiling sheepishly to lend his hand in front of the chief to introduce himself, “I don’t think we’ve met, Scott Clarke. Teacher, Hawkins Middle. Earth and biology.”

“Don’t you remember he was my teacher back in the day?”

Victor nods agreeing with Y/N’s statement from behind, Hopper reluctantly trying to remember his daughter’s middle school teacher, still not recalling since in those past years where fighting for Y/N’s custody between the parents, “I always had a distaste for science.”

”Well maybe you had a bad teacher,” Mr. Clarke remarks, checking if his flashlight was still operating, trudging closer to the group of three ahead of him.

”Yeah, Ms. Ratliff was a piece of work,” Hopper scoffs jokingly, Y/N doing the same as well, remembering his shitty science teacher from his past years while he studied at Hawkins High.

”Ratliff?” The teacher ponders, realizing that the same teacher still resides in Hawkins after all these years, “You bet. She’s still kicking around believe it or not.”

Victor elaborates in between them, sliding his hands onto his pockets, “I had her when I was in eighth grade a few years back.”

”Oh I believe it Victor. Mummies never die, so they tell me,” Hopper smiles, trying to get his daughter to notice but she dozed off beyond the sight of the woods, ”Sarah, my youngest, galaxies, the universe whatnot.. She always understood all that stuff. I always figured there was enough going down here, I never needed to look elsewhere.”

Y/N flickered her eyes towards her father’s direction after hearing the special name, it wasn’t so special to one, but to her, it was. Sarah, Sarah Hopper her little sister, but soon enough the teacher interrupted, “Maybe I’ll get her in my class I-“

“No, she uh.. she lives with her mom in the city,” He cuts the man off from his statement, Victor widening his eyes on Y/N’s side, knowing fully that wasn’t true.

The girl beside the tall boy looked back at his dark eyes, signaling him to be quiet, Y/N was aware of the fact that everyone in Hawkins knew Sarah’s death. Just because of her own blabbermouth, Steve told everyone including the parents her little secret the young female confessed to.

As much as her dad still wants to deny the fact the little one was gone and resting in peace, staying of his delusion Y/N wished she could have. It was a promise. A promise that everything was okay and there wasn’t nothing to worry about, almost some sort of fairy tale where everything had its happy endings with a happy family which wasn’t it.

“Thanks for coming out, Teach. We really appreciate it.” Hopper clears the air, trudging past them farther into the dark eerie woods, Y/N and Victor repeating his steps behind him.

Once they were out of the picture and range from hearing, a middle aged woman spoke up next to the teacher, in a hushed tone saying, “She died a few years back.”

”Sorry?” Mr. Clarke shifted his head in bewilderment towards the lady for any clarification from the inadequate statement given.

”His kid.”

The teacher’s eyes widened, observing the two family members mumbling inaudible words behind the brisk trees of the cool night. He didn’t know the Hoppers hid their family, they never talked much about family when it came to projects when Y/N was younger. It seemed like something ever so private not like where many kids shared experiences with their loved ones, they always kept everything about their family closed up. Almost a mystery.

Y/N could hear the soft mumbles of the quiet conversation being exchanged by the lady and her former teacher, she felt sick knowing that her father stays in the delusion of her sister being alive, lying. Lying wasn’t so hard for her, Y/N was almost a professional at it when it came to helping the party in situations. But lying to her dad was different, it was the both of them against the horrid place called the world.

“Is Sarah going to be back?” A small girl walked over to the grown adults who stood at the front door, puffy eyes showing on their faces, as they held a plastic wristband and stuffed tiger after a long day from not seeing her sister. It was already near midnight.

Without any move, the woman, who to be seen was the girl’s mother, bursted into tears, her husband catching her into his arms. The youngling worriedly watched her parents shed tears, a middle aged woman got up from the couch to comfort both of them. Whispers and mumbles being shared between the adults, bringing more tears.

”Mommy?” The girl steadily crept next to her mom’s leg, wrapping her short arms around her waist, pressing her cheek against the woman’s body, “Don’t cry, I’m here.”

Sobs were still heard from the mother, the two of the women held each other tightly while the tall man let go from their hug, kneeling next to the girl’s level, “Y/N, kid-“

”Dad, where’s Sarah?!” Y/N shakily shouted, her stomach feeling uneasy, with her sister not being found. What happened to Sarah? She knew Sarah was going to get better. Why was mom crying? So many questions filled her head, eyes welling up, her father hugging her tightly with all the hurt and love. Y/N noticed the wristband that her father was holding, she peered closely to see a sloppy handwriting shown as the name Sarah, written all over it with the date when she was sent to the hospital.

”Sarah is... gone.”

The little’s watery eyes widened, her bottom lip trembling, she threw her arms around her father, her head leaning onto his shoulder. Her little sister was gone, she was alone now, her heart crumbling into a million pieces. Sarah, Sarah wasn’t here anymore. But it seemed so surreal, it was only yesterday the two sisters laughed about one of the nurses dropping her cup of coffee while getting chemotherapy.

“Dad.. Can she come back?”

Sadly grinning, Hopper wiped the girl’s chubby face from her tears, shaking his head, “I’m sorry kid, she’s not coming back.”

”But she has to! Sarah has to come home with us,” Y/N choked in her tears, her eyes becoming swollen, grabbing the wristband from her father’s large hand, “Sarah can’t leave me alone here. She promised she would stay.”

”Y/N, I know this is difficult but your sister left us. She’s in a better place now.”

Making her cry even more, Y/N’s mother rapidly kneeled next to her husband and daughter, she sniffed, grabbing onto her daughter, “We promised Sarah we would love each other and always stay safe. Forever.”

”Promise?”

Both of the girl’s parents joined in for a tight hug, Y/N fastening her arms around the two others, “Promise. We promise you sweet pea.”

”Y/N! Y/N!” A familiar voice boasted in the ears of Y/N, she focused her attention back to the voice. There was no one beside her by the time she looked around, it was the sounds of the wind and her alone. Her flashlight flickered in her hands, she shook it vigorously to try and turn it back on, but there was nothing coming out of it, just a dimly lit tone guiding her way. Nothing else in her sight except for the trees and moonlight, she tried her best to not overthink this and make her way back to the group.

Every turn she made in the paths, it led her to nowhere, noises filled the aura. Slowly, she began to worry, she wasn’t coming back to the group. Y/N’s head filled itself with thoughts, there was no way she could be lost, last time she was with Victor, rambling about the weather. Where was she? Looking up, she felt small droplets of water dripped onto her face above, Y/N squinted her eyes to avoid the drizzle. The water fell down slowly until it started raining heavier in the air, she wiped her face to dry it off and continue to try to find her way back.

“Dad!” Y/N shouted, wrapping her arms over herself, her hair becoming soaked along the time. She kept shouting and shouting, worry filling her in. The girl was afraid. What if she went missing like Will? Oh no.

Without a precaution, a branch from behind was heard. Y/N whipped her head to the direction, seeing a small human with a white gown rapidly run off to opposite direction, the rain blurring her eyes. Was that Will? Curious, she picked up speed to follow the boy, it may be Will. A chance of relief rushing in as her adrenaline sped up, almost running faster. “Will! It’s me!”

The boy didn’t stop, sprinting faster with his bare feet. Y/N still yelled, slowing her pace down, then picking it back up, going through the trees. An idea came to her, tugging at her metal whistle to her lips, blowing on it. The sound coming off it, maybe attracting people to find her and the boy, it has to be Will. Using her arms to run faster, she suddenly trips over a thick log after not seeing below her because of the wind, sending her to the floor. She whimpers as she felt her ankle burn in a pain, whistling even more.

From the distance, few people to what she could tell came forward to her, rain soaking over her head. Thunder being heard far away, Victor came into the picture to kneel down next to Y/N.

”Hey are you okay?” He worriedly checks on her, receiving a nod. Victor looked around for any possible wounds since he found her on the ground, “We couldn’t find you!”

Y/N hardly paid attention to him and looked afar to see if the boy would turn up again. She held Victor’s jacket to pull him closer, “I think I saw Will! He was running through there I-“

”Chief Hopper coming through, excuse me,” A voice from the crowd of people called in, Hopper bringing himself forward to find his soaking daughter on the ground pointing toward another direction. “What’s wrong?”

Victor moves to tell Hopper while being next to shaking and wet Y/N, “She saw Will.”

#Steve Harrington #steve Harrington x reader #steve Harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington x Hopper reader #Stranger things #stranger things x reader #Stranger things Fanfiction #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington fanfic navigation #Steve Harrington x reader Fanfiction #Mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #jim hopper #stranger things season 1

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patchofsunlight · 4 years

Text

Back to You | Zuko x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Fire Lord Zuko falls in love with one of the Kyoshi Warriors sent to protect him. Thankfully, she falls in love with him too.

WORD COUNT: 5.2k I wanted it to be shorter than Pretty Eyes and succeeded... kind of

WARNINGS: okay so there’s some kissing, some swear words, some obvious mutual pining, some frustration, and that’s it. it’s pure fluff ngl

I hope you all like it! I actually had a lot of fun writing this and I think it came out pretty nice. Also requests are open! Thank you for reading and here we go.

“Hey, Fire Lord, your date is here.”

“Y/N, we’ve talked about this. You can call me Zuko, and it is a diplomatic meeting, not a date.”

“You sure? He’s wearing such nice clothes. I can do your hair real quick if you want, get you ready and cute in like five minutes.”

“No, Y/N, thank you. You can let Ambassador Gamu in.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be just outside the door if you need me.”

“Of course.”

Zuko tried to ignore the cheeky blink the Kyoshi Warrior sent his way before leaving his office, a teasing grin adorning her painted face. When Suki told him she would bring the most experienced and talented of her warriors alongside her to protect him and serve as his guards, he definitely did not think he would have to deal with someone like Y/N.

He knew she was, for sure, a strong and intelligent fighter, being Suki’s second in command and impressively skillful with every single one of her weapons. He had watched her spar with her companions more than once and seeing Y/N fight never failed to take his breath away until his lungs were filled with only admiration and pride. However, one could call her less than professional, and her treating of the Fire Lord troubled most of the palace’s staff. And yet, to be honest, Zuko found it really hard to pretend he didn’t absolutely adore her.

Y/N felt like a breath of fresh air, like sunshine on a cloudy day, like seabreeze. He loved the way she always teased him and tried to make him laugh, loved the way she seemed to brighten up every room she walked into. Somehow she managed to bring joy to the same place he always associated with sadness and anger — every corner of the palace was happier with her around. That’s why he chose to keep her as his closest guard, even after every single one of his advisors told him time and time again to send the disrespectful Kyoshi Warrior away. Zuko knew he probably should, but he was slowly learning how to accept and cherish the things that made him feel like smiling, and Y/N was undoubtedly on that list.

He refused to admit how in love he was with her. He had convinced himself it was nothing but a crush, some sort of appreciation for her amazing fighting skills, but a small part of him knew that was not true. He had it bad for her and would kill a man to keep a smile on her face any day of the week.

“It is very good to know the Earth Kingdom is so willing to tighten its relationships with the Fire Nation, Ambassador Gamu. I hope I can assist you in every way possible to guarantee a brilliant future for all nations.”

The Earth Kingdom official smiled politely, “thank you very much, Fire Lord Zuko. Nevertheless, it is crucial you are made aware that not all our citizens are happy with the new… Arrangements between our countries. I heard you have had a similar problem here, haven’t you? I truly hope the Kyoshi Warriors have been good servants and protectors, sir.”

Zuko couldn’t help the upwards movement of his lips as he gazed at Y/N’s silhouette through the door crack. “They certainly have,” he watched her look behind her, probably feeling his stare, and grinned when she shot out her tongue at him in an amusing manner, “I am extremely grateful for having them here with me.”

-----

“Hey, Fire Lord, your date is here.”

He glanced up from his desk and furrowed his eyebrows at her, “it’s Zuko, and I don’t have any meetings scheduled for today.”

Y/N beamed and he was sure his heart did a somersault inside his chest, “I know! I was talking about me. I’m your date.”

He lightly blushed, “what?”

“Come on, Fire Lord, you’ve been working for hours on end. You need to take a break,” she scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment and thanked every spirit there was for the white paint hiding her reddened cheeks, “I thought we could take a walk around the palace, y’know? I’ll be beside you doing the whole protecting thing and you can rest a bit from the whole rebuilding the Fire Nation thing.”

Zuko hesitated, “I don’t know, Y/N. I really need to finish this,” he gestured to the awaiting letters and reports in front of him, “I can’t simply leave. I have obligations as Fire Lord and—”

“I’m aware of that,” she bit down on her lower lip teasingly and he couldn’t help but think about the inevitable gasps she would have earned if anyone else heard her interrupt him like that, “but you shouldn’t overwork yourself. Besides, I’m tired of standing around doing nothing. Please? It will be so fast no one will even notice you’re gone!”

He sighed, “Y/N…”

“Please, Zuko?”

It was probably the first time she had ever called him by his name. She knew how much he hated being called Fire Lord, only accepting it during important gatherings, assemblies or introductions, but insisted on calling him by that anyway. Zuko was absolutely sure she only did it to spite him and had to admit it was kind of endearing — he loved the small ways she found of constantly challenging him. However, he quickly learned he loved hearing her say his name a lot more.

He sat up suddenly, “five minutes.”

Y/N grinned so brightly he had to bit back his own smile, “fifteen!”

“This is not a negotiation. Five minutes and then I’ll come back to my duties as a leader.”

“Okay, okay. Ten minutes then.”

“What? No, I didn’t agree to that.”

“Oh? I’m sorry, Fire Lord. Fifteen it is.”

Zuko opened his mouth to oppose when he heard her chuckle in amusement before taking a hold of his arm and pulling him towards the gardens.

“We could feed the turtleducks, but I don’t really think that’s a good idea,” she chattered lightly, somewhat begrudgingly letting him walk arm in arm with her instead of keeping on dragging him around, “I already did that earlier today.”

He wrinkled his nose and stared at her with a silent question in his eyes, “why did you feed the turtleducks? We have people here to do that.”

“I know,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, “but they are cute so I asked to feed them,” she threw him a smile, “I’m pretty sure they liked me.”

Zuko shook his head cheerfully and smiled back almost instantly, “Of course they did. How could they not?”

She turned her head to look at him so quickly he wondered how she didn’t get whiplash. The Kyoshi Warrior smirked, “are you flirting with me, Fire Lord?”

There was a tingling session going through his body as the color red creeped upon his neck, face and ears. Zuko wanted to say something smooth like “yes, I have been for a while, haven’t you noticed?” or “how could I not flirt with such a pretty lady like you?”, but he only managed to stutter, slightly panic, and then answer in a high-pitched voice, “what? No! What?”

Y/N lifted her free arm in surrender, trying not to laugh at his reaction, “alright, sorry for asking,” she smirked again before muttering, “I wouldn’t mind if you were, though.”

The Fire Lord’s eyes widened in surprise at her words, his tone now back to normal, “what do you mean?”

For some reason, his inquiry seemed to make her self-conscious of their conversation topic. Zuko wished for nothing more than to punch himself in the face. “It’s nothing. I was just joking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Great. Look, it’s been five minutes already!” she stared at her wrist so confidently he almost didn’t notice the lack of anything to actually check the time there. “You must go back to your Fire Lord things, right, Fire Lord?”

“We can still go see the turtleducks if you want?”

“Don’t worry! We can do that another time, when you’re not busy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am. Hey, that’s Suki! I need to talk to her! Bye!”

“What? Y/N—”

“Bye, Fire Lord!”

Y/N was going absolutely crazy. When Suki first brought her to the Fire Nation to protect the so-called revolutionary and strong new Fire Lord, she had been skeptical. After all her years training and helping people around the nations with the rest of the Kyoshi Warriors, she couldn’t care less about the damn Fire Lord — she had spent a long time locked up after Azula and her stupid gang captured them and no new or old Fire Lord had come to their rescue. In conclusion, the bitch could catch on fire himself and be an On-Fire Lord for all she cared (she had spent too long thinking about that joke but that definitely did not matter), even though Suki had told her she knew the guy and that he was a great person or whatever.

Now she was biting her own tongue and trying to keep from flirting with him. In her defense, though, Zuko was a thousand times more good-looking and a billion times nicer than she expected him to be. She couldn’t help but always look for ways to make him smile, loving all his little quirks and habits, and suddenly found herself by his side a lot more than she needed to. She constantly acted as a personal guard, waiting outside his door during private meetings and accompanying him on walks, assemblies and gatherings in a somewhat intimate manner. She didn’t need to be right beside him the whole time — she could protect him from afar and maintain her distance like the other Kyoshi Warriors had chosen to, but Y/N simply didn’t want that. The stupid feelings she was slowly building towards the Fire Lord were dangerous at worst and annoying at best, constantly distracting her from her duties and responsibilities as Suki’s second in command.

It was infuriating, since love and relationships had never been really the type of stuff Y/N liked to partake in. She was good at fighting and giving witty responses and making jokes, but not at liking someone. Specially not liking Fire Lord Zuko, who was one of the most powerful people in the world and would certainly end up marrying some rich Fire Nation girl to guarantee a great and honorable successor to the throne or something like that.

When she finally went back to her individual palace room after a long day of trying not to embarrass herself in front of Zuko anymore and just all-around avoiding talking with him, she sat down before the mirror and started to take her facepaint off. That part of her routine, alongside putting on the paint in the mornings, had always felt like a ritual of sorts, calming her down and enabling her to let go of any unimportant worries.

Y/N let out a tired sigh, stared at her bare face and grinned. She might have fallen in love with the Fire Lord, but at least living in the palace allowed her to sneak into the kitchens in the middle of the night and steal some fruit tarts. She got up from her spot in front of the mirror and exited the room as quietly as possible, strongly believing that eating something would take her mind off the Fire Lord and his beautiful golden eyes.

-----

After another full hour of fruitlessly waiting for sleep, Zuko decided to put on an old cloak and walk around his palace. Pacing had always made wonders for helping him collect his thoughts and calm down from whatever it was that troubled him that day. It was not the first time he took on that habit and it would not be the last.

He honestly didn’t notice the person creeping up on him until he was pinned to a wall, an arm to his throat not pressing hard enough to hurt him, but enough to quicken his heartbeat. Zuko stared at the one responsible for the assault with confusion shining in his eyes, unable to recognize her without her greasepaint until she blinked and stepped back.

“Fire Lord?”

He widened his eyes, “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I was headed for the kitchens. What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“No. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“I see,” she nodded and yawned, averting her eyes from him, “you shouldn’t be out and about without a guard, tho. You know that.”

“I’m pretty capable of protecting myself, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

He crossed his arms in defense, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you want to go grab some snacks with me?”

“I—” he stared at her, for the first time seeing her blush under his gaze, “okay.”

“Great! Let’s go, Fire Lord.”

Zuko stayed quiet while they walked through the palace. He watched Y/N greet every single night servant they met on their way, earning big smiles and excited waves. For some reason, knowing how loved she was by his workers made his heart swell with pride. She would make an excellent Fire Queen someday. Or Fire Lady. Was there an official name for the Fire Lord’s wife? He couldn’t remember.

Zuko felt all the blood in his body drop to his feet when he noticed where his thoughts had wandered to. He shouldn’t think about Y/N as his wife — she was merely a protector, the help. He was not in love with her and therefore should not deliberate such things, not even by accident.

But he had never seen her bare faced before and he couldn’t help but take note of how alluring she was. He had always considered her pretty, but now he could really see her and she was so much more than just pretty.

“Come on, Fire Lord. I’m sure they have fruit tarts.”

He smiled as she sneaked inside the door to the kitchens, following soon after. In a matter of minutes they were sat before each other on the ground, sharing a bunch of fruit tarts Y/N had found hidden inside one of the cabinets. There was a comfortable silence surrounding them and Zuko appreciated how easy it was to be near her, without expectations or curious looks. Whenever he was next to the Kyoshi Warrior, he came close to forgetting his titles and obligations, satisfied with being simply who he was.

It felt nice.

“You look good with your hair down,” she announced suddenly, unaware of the thoughtful look on his face, “I like it.”

He felt his cheeks burn, “thank you, Y/N,” the young Fire Lord inhaled deeply to gather the courage necessary to express the response that came to mind, “you look good all the time.”

She stilled her movements with a fruit tart inches from her mouth, eyes blinking in surprise. After a tense moment, she grinned and lowered her arm, “do you really think so or are you just being nice?”

“I mean it, Y/N. You are… You are absolutely beautiful.”

The pair studied each other for a few instants, eyes sparkling with a breathtaking feeling both easily recognized but were not ready just yet to deal with. Y/N beamed at him, her face pink at the compliment. Zuko could feel his heart twist and turn inside his chest, butterflies flying in his stomach. “Why, thank you, Fire Lord. For the record, I have found you beautiful since I first saw you. I was expecting some rude and cranky old guy and there you were, with your pretty eyes and nervous smile. It was pleasant in a very surprising way.”

The Fire Lord was pretty sure she could hear his heartbeat as she leaned in almost subconsciously, her smile brightening up every small spot his eyes could see of the dark kitchen.

He was, indeed, very much in love with her, and there was no use in denying it, not while she averted her gaze to his lips and seemed to get closer and closer until their noses touched. Zuko’s breath hitched inside his throat as her lips ghosted his, eyes fluttering close before a loud bang sent them jumping in opposite directions, searching the source of the noise.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

The Kyoshi Warrior scratched her neck shyly, adamantly avoiding Zuko’s stare, “yes, Izum. How are you?”

The servant walked up to her with crossed arms, “I told you to stop invading the kitchens at night! You’re gonna put an end to our fruit tart stock, young lady.”

The Fire Lord watched the interaction curiously. Y/N and Izum smirked at each other as if they were old friends. “Well, if you don’t want me to steal your fruit tarts, you should maybe stop making the best fruit tarts in the entire universe.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, honey.”

“You sure?”

“Yes! Fire Lord Zuko will be alerted about this.”

“I think he might already know.”

The young man seemed to finally notice Zuko’s presence, widening his eyes in surprise and bowing respectfully, “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there, it’s too dark and—”

“It’s fine, Izum, don’t worry. We’ll be off your kitchens in a second. Right, Y/N?”

“Of course,” she brushed the dust off her pants and walked to stand beside the Fire Lord, ignoring her friend’s raised brows, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You will,” Izum looked from her to Zuko and then back to her, a teasing smile on his face when he greeted them goodbye, “good night, Y/N. Good night, Fire Lord Zuko.”

“How do you know him?” the Fire Lord asked after they left the kitchen, some sort of discomfort growing inside him at the way the Kyoshi Warrior had interacted with the servant.

“Oh, Izum is a good friend. He regrets deeply telling me where they keep the fruit tarts, but it’s too late now. We met during my first week here.”

“I see.”

“Let me take you back to your room, Fire Lord. It is already very late.”

Despite his unacknowledged jealousy, he wasn’t fast enough to bit back his smirk, “shouldn’t I be the one leading you to your room?”

“I am the guard, Zuko. I am the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

He chuckled, “right.”

“I can put you to bed if you want, I used to do that to my younger sibling sometimes.”

“Shut up, Y/N.”

She threw her had back in laughter and he grinned.

They didn’t ever talk about what happened (or more accurately didn’t happen) during that dark night in the kitchens. Zuko was progressively busier with meetings and peace treaties, slowly putting the Fire Nation back in good rails. Y/N would routinely force him to take a break every once in a while, be it by leading him outside his office or taking his attention away from work and starting conversation.

Spirits, he was so in love with her.

It was during one of those breaks that one of her fellow Kyoshi Warriors knocked on his workroom’s door and entered with a nervous look on her face, nodding at him in respect before turning her attention to her friend, “Y/N?”

The young warrior smiled, “hey, Naya. Is everything alright?”

“Suki wants to speak with you. Privately.”

Y/N’s expression was instantly filled with worry and concentration. She gripped her katana tightly, walking towards the girl, “I want three warriors guarding the Fire Lord at all times, we are not taking chances regarding his safety. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Y/N.”

“Good,” she turned to Zuko, her stone-cold face easing momentarily. She marched up to him with conviction before planting a kiss on his cheek that made his body burn with surprise and happiness. “Be careful, Fire Lord. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“I—I… I mean… I’m—” he kept on stuttering, unable to form an entire sentence with his feelings all over the place, “You… I—”

She smirked, walking away backwards, “see you, Zuko.”

Naya looked at him with a cheeky smile after Y/N left the room, crossing her arms and staring in a teasing manner. Zuko was still rooted into place, widened eyes and reddened cheeks watching the now closed door. “Are you alright, Fire Lord Zuko?”

“I—yeah. I am. Yes,” his tone was definitely not as certain as he wanted it to be, “of course.”

The girl giggled, “sure.”

The Fire Lord would only see his favorite guard again on the following day. She came to visit him in his office and had a gravity to her eyes that he was unfamiliar with, lips pressed together in determination.

“What happened?” he immediately asked, the letter he was working on quickly forgotten. “Are you okay?”

“There have been attacks to the warriors in Kyoshi Island,” she declared, “not everyone is happy with our new arrangements. People think Earth Kingdom fighters shouldn’t be helping the Fire Nation in any way.”

“Oh,” he managed to answer, anxiety building up inside him at her hardened expression. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Zuko,” she looked away from him, “but we can’t leave our companions to fend for themselves.”

He could feel his heartbeat pick up, “I see.”

“Suki is sending me back to Kyoshi Island,” Y/N confessed, a hint of sadness to her tone, “I’m her second in command and I should be there to help our warriors through this.”

A heavy silence fell upon the room, tension sparkling between the couple. He knew what that piece of information meant, knew what it would cause.

“You’re leaving.”

She softened almost instantly, taking a step closer to him and then hesitating, “no!” he stared and she sighed, “I mean, yes, but I’ll return when it’s over,” she looked at him with some sort of desperation, eagerly searching for something she couldn’t find, “when everything’s done and dealt with, I’ll return.”

Zuko nodded, a disheartening sting running through his chest, “I understand. Leaving is your duty as a leader.”

“I’m not leaving, Zuko,” another step, “I’ll come back. I’ll—” she hesitated, taking a final step towards him and reaching for his hand uncertainly, “I’ll come back to the Fire Nation,” she interlaced their fingers carefully, “I’ll come back to you.”

It was his turn to step closer, bringing his free hand up to her face and sighing when she leaned onto it, hopeful eyes shining at him. When he finally spoke, his voice was a whisper, “will you?”

She chuckled sadly, moving to rest her forehead on his, staining his face with the white paint and rubbing circles alongside the back of his hand with her thumb, “I will. You are not getting rid of me this easily, Fire Lord.”

“Good. I didn’t want to.”

She smiled. On that exact moment, Suki opened the door and studied the scene before her with a bittersweet gaze, “Y/N, it’s time to go.”

His chest clenched in pain and distress, glancing from Suki to Y/N with anguish, “you are going now?”

The Kyoshi Warrior distanced herself from him and Zuko could’ve sworn he felt physical pain at the space between them, “I’ll come back, Zuko. I promise.”

-----

It was like he had a constant sunshine right beside him and now it was gone. He was pretty sure every single person in the palace had noticed the liking he had taken to moping around and staring sadly at the turtleducks, missing the one he had come to love. He thought his feelings for her would subside after her departure, but, oh dear, was he wrong. The deep ache that settled in his chest was enough to constantly remind him of how much he liked her, how much he missed her. Not having her around hurt so much that it became inconvenient, making it difficult to work and complete his responsibilities when he was constantly thinking about her safety and about what could have been if she had stayed just a little longer. Zuko thought they had finally reached the start of something new but she wasn’t here anymore and he would have to wait to find out.

Suki tried to report to him what was going on at Kyoshi Island whenever she could. Y/N was working hard to calm down the conflicts while at the same time training the new and old Kyoshi Warriors as well as possible. Suki told him it would take a while until things were okay enough for Y/N to return to the Fire Nation, but it would happen eventually.

He was so desperately in love it was embarrassing. He craved her presence, her voice, her laugh, her touch. He wondered if she felt the same and concluded that no, probably not. To be honest, however, he would accept anything coming from her, even some second-hand love. He would still be happy if she decided to settle for him after being made aware of his feelings.

The Fire Lord was adamant on telling her everything he felt when she came back — and she would come back, she had promised —, because being away from Y/N made him realize how much happier he was with her and he refused to let her leave again without knowing that he just absolutely adored her.

Meanwhile, Y/N felt incredibly overwhelmed. Between helping train the Kyoshi Warriors and trying to solve any misunderstanding with the Earth Kingdom citizens in a diplomatic way, she found it hard to breathe. It was somehow good, to be honest, because it didn’t leave her with much time to think about him. And, Spirits, did she think about him when she could. She was extremely excited to finally go back to the Fire Nation and just be by his side again.

There was a part of her that worried. Even though they had had multiple moments when she truly believed he felt the same, they never really spoke about it. Zuko didn’t seem the best at communication, and Y/N generally chose to joke around and tease instead of actually voicing her emotions.

“Miss Y/N, you must understand—”

“No, Mung, you and your so-called rebels are the ones who are not understanding. Fire Lord Zuko is trying to rebuild and strengthen the ties with Earth Kingdom in a healthy way for both nations—”

“But Miss Y/N—”

“—and the Kyoshi Warriors are collaborating with that by being a part of the official guard. How, for Spirits’ sake, is you attacking my warriors a good way of achieving anything you might want to achieve?”

The man swallowed harshly while he fidgeted. Y/N had worked hard to get a meeting with the rebels on Kyoshi Island, but was pleasantly surprised to notice how unorganized they were. “The Kyoshi Warriors shouldn’t collaborate with the Fire Nation, Miss Y/N,” a young man guarding the rebel leader’s door interrupted their staring contest, “the Fire Nation has done nothing but cause destruction and suffering. We won’t have our beloved warriors being corrupted by such a horrible mindset as the Fire Nation’s.”

“I appreciate your concern, but Zuko,” she cleared her throat in embarrassment at the verbal slip, “Fire Lord Zuko is different. He cares about people and he seeks redemption for Fire Nation’s wrongdoings. Having a good relationship with him is a great deal for the Earth Kingdom, believe me.”

The two men exchanged a look before returning their gaze to her. She tried to bit back a smile when she noticed the meaningful expression on their faces, signalizing she might finally be able to go home.

She tensed at the thought. Was that what Fire Nation was now? Home?

Or was she ready to admit the real home she had been thinking of was a certain Fire Lord all along?

-----

It was a hot day in the Fire Nation and Zuko was busy with his daily amount of sulking and missing his favorite girl when he heard a commotion going on somewhere near him. He confusedly followed the sound, finding the Kyoshi Warriors gathered around and talking loudly. The Fire Lord furrowed his brows.

“Is everything okay?” his voice quieted them down and he watched while the young fighters exchanged knowing looks. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, Fire Lord, it did,” his heartbeat picked up immediately and he turned towards the voice he had fallen in love with, finding her dazzling smile. Y/N crossed her arms in a teasing manner, “told you I’d come back.”

Zuko stared at her while the other warriors scrambled towards somewhere else, aiming to leave the couple alone. He smirked, “you did tell me.”

She walked closer to him until they were chest to chest, and he wondered if she could feel his jumping heart against her, “I think I even made a promise.”

“You surely did.”

Y/N grinned, “well, then I guess—”

“I’m in love with you.”

This was not in his plans. He meant to say a lot of things about how he slowly fell for her during the months they spent together, but Zuko simply couldn’t help from blurting a confession out like a dumbass. He had craved being around her so much during these weeks apart and now she was finally there, just within reach. He couldn’t take any more dancing around each other.

She beamed, “that surely makes this less awkward.”

“Wait, what?”

Before he could wrap his head around her words, Y/N took a hold of his collar and pulled him to her, gazing at his lips as their noses touched, just like weeks ago in the kitchens. She smiled softly, eyes fluttering close, “I’m in love with you too, Fire Lord.”

“Oh, thank the fucking Spirits.”

The Kyoshi Warrior laughed against his mouth, sending a tingling sensation down his back. His hands held onto her waist, extinguishing any space between them before he kissed her deeply, relief and happiness flooding his senses all at once. His own personal sunshine was finally next to him again and he revelled from the pure warmth she provided, chasing all insecurities and fears away until only his love remained.

“I missed you,” he mumbled on her lips, so intoxicated by her presence he could have forgotten how to breathe.

He could literally feel her smile between kisses, “I missed you too, Zuko,” she moved slightly away so to be able to stare at his eyes, “but don’t you worry, Fire Lord. I’ll always come back to you.”

Zuko chuckled, “you’re so cheesy.”

“You love it. Can I be even cheesier?”

“Go ahead, pretty girl.”

“Hey, Fire Lord, your new permanent date is here, and she’s not leaving.”

“That was horrible, Y/N. But good to know.”

He attached his lips to hers again and, for the first time, Zuko didn’t have a single worry for the future or for his fate. For better or for worse, he had his favorite guard by his side, and that was enough.

ATLA taglist: @bottledcostcowater @officiallydarkgeek (for some reason I can’t tag you I’m sorry??) and @beifongsss and @azucanela I know you didn’t ask to be tagged but you didn’t seem to mind last time so here I am again?? if you don’t want to be tagged anymore just lmk!!

I hope you liked it!!

#atla #atla x reader #zuko x reader #zuko #zuko imagine #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender x reader #suki #zuko x fem!reader #zuko x f!reader #fire lord zuko #fire lord zuko x reader #suki x reader #kyoshi warriors #kyoshi warrior reader #this was kinda cute wasn't it #i'm lowkey proud of this #ngl

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pockydays · 3 years

Text

unravel me

⤷ characters: tsukishima x gn!reader

⤷ synopsis: in which you notice tsukishima struggling to peel the tape off his fingers during study hall. what you didn’t notice, however, was how much he had the ability to find his way into every aspect of your life, until it was too late.

⤷ word count: 6.3k (longest fic to date woohoo!)

⤷ contains: fluff, slight angst, acquaintances to friends to lovers (?), mild language, my (insanely) wordy writing

⤷ a/n: i’m not even lying this took me weeks to write and it’s my baby :] most of the dialogue in this is probably hot shit but if you enjoyed please leave a like/reblog :3: mwah mwah ily all thank you for being patient with my slow ass <3 and thank you to my dear friend abby for beta reading the first chunk of this story, if you read this ily <3

You've always considered yourself as someone who wasn't especially generous. But you weren’t incredibly selfish, either. You were in some sort of grey area, too indifferent to care about what society says about people who aren't willing to go so far as to sell their souls to the devil for the common good. But you weren't heartless, either. You cared, usually out of mutual convenience. Isn't that what everyone does? Ninety-nine percent of the time, helping others (undeniably) involves genuinely good intentions, but they coexist with selfish motives as well. Then what about that one percent?

That one percent, in fact, came to you in the most inconspicuous of times: during mid-day study hall.

You found yourself going through the motions of your everyday routine: walking into the classroom, saying hi to your friend in the third row, putting your bag on the desk, pulling out your chair, sitting down, taking out your notebook and pencils, and waiting for approximately thirty-nine seconds until a (supposedly attractive, or at least according to whispers among your female classmates, which was bold of them to assume that he even liked girls in that way — you weren’t one to burst their bubbles) tall blond guy with glasses walked through the door, and greet him with a nonchalant "hey" and a wave.

And after that, if he responded with a slightly snarkier tone than usual, you knew he was having an especially bad day (more likely than not, it was because of the volleyball teammates he often complained about). But as for the real reason why, your guess was as good as anybody else's. He probably had piss in his Cheerios every morning and his trousers in a twist until the end of time for all you knew.

But today was slightly different than usual. For one, a full minute had already passed after you took out your pencils and yesterday’s chemistry notes, and there was still no sign of him. For some unknown reason, you couldn't stop the worry gnawing its way into your conscience. You rested your chin in one hand and drummed your fingers on the desk with the other, trying not to think about your classmate with a sharp tongue and a glare that could kill. Of course, trying to not think about something is a form of thinking about it, so that didn’t exactly work out.

The bell suddenly rang, jolting you out of your thoughts as well as your seat. Tsukishima Kei was now officially late, according to the school rules. Thankfully, your study hall advisor was lenient and understanding enough to not mark anybody late if they arrived within a reasonable time as to not tarnish their transcript, but you knew Tsukishima well enough to know that he wouldn’t care about a single unsavory comment that would only have the slightest potential to alarm admissions officers in those money-hungry institutions.

That was one thing you admired about your classmate. His ability to judge what things to put his effort into and selectively choose what he could get away with doing half-assed was unparalleled. As far as you could tell, volleyball was something he didn’t deem as worthy to put his all into. You weren’t usually wrong in such judgements about people, but then again, you’d only been right, let’s say, a total of three out of three times. You weren’t sure if it was considered a really good or really bad track record, so you’d always kept those sort of assumptions to yourself.

“Not going to say hi to me today? That’s awfully rude of you,” a voice said, out of the blue. You tense, wondering who had the audacity to call you rude.

“What?” you asked incredulously before you could realize where the voice came from. “Oh, it’s you,” you said, recognizing his inhumanly tall frame and the pair of white headphones around his neck. I should’ve guessed; of course only he’s brash enough to say something like that.

You rested your chin in your hands again, the tension in your body visibly dissipating. You were glad that it was just Tsukishima and not some other person, because they would be a pain in the ass to deal with. Plus, he was just about the only person you allowed to speak without a filter; one, because it’s fun verbally sparring with him, and two, it makes his stunned silence after you counter with an especially witty phrase all the more satisfying.

This time, though, he sat down at the desk to your left without a word. Usually, he would never pass up the chance to have another round of firing tasteful insults at you. Today was indeed slightly different than usual.

As he clicked the top of his mechanical pencil, you couldn’t help but notice a flash of white one his hands out of the corner of your eye. Did he always have that on his hands or was I just horribly unobservant before?

Leaning over to his seat at a dangerous angle, you asked, “Hey, what’s up with your fingers? You have leprosy or something?” in hopes of lightening his supposedly gloomy mood.

“Shut up,” he muttered irritably. “If I had leprosy, my fingers would’ve fallen off by now and I would’ve put one in your lunch as a keepsake,” he added. Shifting away from you in his chair, he tried as much as possible to make his (in your opinion, unconventionally lanky) body as far away as possible from your general vicinity.

“Okay, okay, geez! At least tell me, because now I’m curious and it’s all your fault.”

“If I tell you, will you stop bothering me?” he asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Maaybee...?” you replied slowly, trying to find an answer when a simple “yes” or “no” didn’t suffice.

“If you’re not going to stop bothering me, then I don’t have a reason to tell you, so no,” he frowned, crossing his arms self-righteously.

“Alright then, keep your secrets, mister. I don’t care whether you tell me or not.” Which wasn’t completely the truth, since some tiny part of your conscience thought that wrestling the answer from him was for the better. “But just know that I’ll continue to be my annoying self, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, you turned your attention back to your chemistry notes.

A few silent minutes passed before you leaned back over to his desk on the left.

“Hey mister, do you have some pencil lead? I think I ran out,” you whispered to Tsukishima.

He heaved what you thought was the biggest sigh in the universe before responding, “Point-five or point-seven?”

“Tsukishima, you wound me! I thought you knew that I write exclusively in point-five!” you exclaimed with a hand over your chest, feigning offense.

He rolled his eyes, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him count out three pieces of lead. Three, that’s generous, you think to yourself as you suppress a small smile.

“Thanks, mister,” you whispered as you plucked the delicate sticks of graphite from his fingers. Taking a quick glance at his hands, you noticed that his fingers were wrapped in some sort of adhesive tape. Before Tsukishima could catch you looking for too long and make some snarky remark about how absolutely positively beautiful his hands were for you to be staring, you abruptly turn back to your notes and refill your (actually already lead-filled) pencil. If he wouldn’t answer your question, it wouldn’t hurt to take things into your own hands and figure it out for yourself, right?

You looked back to the notebook in front of you, but with your curiousity still unsatiated, you couldn’t help the thoughts bouncing off the walls of your mind, competing for your undivided attention.

Ask him about it! a voice yelled.

Mind your own business, you creepy fuck! another (particularly foul-mouthed) one screamed.

At this point, you’d probably read the first line of your notebook about thirty times without comprehending a single thing, so you decided to give up and resort to banging your head lightly on your desk.

Apparently, 'lightly’ was an understatement, because a voice on your left hissed, “What’s your problem?!”

Oops.

“Nothing,” you replied softly with your head still on the desk.

Tsukishima sighed in exasperation. “Well, now I’m curious and it’s all your fault,” he scoffed, using your own words from earlier.

Now it was your turn to sigh. Stubborn person number one meets equally stubborn person number two: one of life’s most aggravating experiences.

“C’mon, let me see your hands,” you demanded, your own hand outstretched. You’ll say ‘no’ no matter what I ask.

“No.” Tsukishima pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and turned away.

Point proven.

You had always considered yourself to be somewhat generous when circumstances permitted, yes. But being yourself around others was something you considered yourself to be quite good at, as well.

Sometimes you imagined what it would be like if people’s hearts had metaphorical layers of thread surrounding them, winding, twisting, wrapping, and sometimes tangling around and around the ugliest, scariest, or most precious parts of themselves. The people you met would either unravel a bit of your heart, even if just a little bit, or they would cause you to wind the threads of your heartstrings even more tightly.

You had strings that were (sometimes laughably) effortless to unwind, but once someone got to the last layer of thread, they refused to unravel any further. In other words, you weren’t afraid to be ninety-nine percent yourself around everybody. But that one percent? You’d keep it safely tucked away behind the impenetrable fortress of that last previous layer of thread — for both the good of yourself and everyone else.

Sometimes, you also wondered what the threads wrapping around Tsukishima’s heart was like. Not because you particularly had more of an interest in him than your other classmates, but because he was a sort of enigma to you. You had countless questions: How hard is it to unravel those threads? and What lies beyond those tightly wound strings? and What did he have to hide that is so unsightly? et cetera, et cetera. He was a puzzle you wanted to piece together, although you weren’t sure what the finished product would look like, or if there even was a finished product.

You had a lot more questions about Tsukishima than you did answers.

You must’ve been deep in thought for a while, because it took an utterance of some rather coarse language to bring you back to reality.

“Fuck,” Tsukishima muttered, fiddling with the tape covering his fingers. It was evident, after about ten seconds of observing him, that he was getting nowhere. At this point, you were presented with two choices: to help him or to leave him to wallow in his own frustration and suffer. Admittedly, the latter option seemed rather entertaining, but for some unknown reason, you opted for the former.

“Here, let me help,” you said, hand extending in front of you as an offer. “You obviously aren’t getting anywhere, so let me put you out of your misery.”

“You better get it all off then,” he grumbled, outstretching his arm, letting it limply dangle in front of your face. Huh, I didn’t expect him to actually agree so easily.

You gently took his hand, and starting with his pinky finger, you worked your nails under the end of the tape. As the tape unraveled further, you couldn’t help but notice how elegant his hands were. They were long and slender in ways that yours weren’t — the magnum opus of all things relating to hands. If God played favorites, he certainly did when it came to Tsukishima’s hands. Geez, knock it off, you cringed inwardly. You’re literally worshipping his hands at this point.

“So, uh, why are your fingers covered in tape?” You hoped to break the awkward silence between the two of you, and asking him questions that he probably wouldn’t answer (especially to plebeians like you) seemed like the last resort.

“Volleyball practice,” he responded simply.

Oh. I didn’t expect an actual response.

“This morning? You guys sometimes have practice early in the day, right?”

“Last evening,” he corrected.

“You had these on your hands for that long?! I see you’re finally getting serious about volleyball, my dude, but you have to be able to ask other people for help." People other than me, but if I’m your last resort, then I’d be happily obliged to help.

Tsukishima scowled, which, thankfully, you missed, busy undoing the tape around his fingers. At least you didn’t criticize him for being hypocritical regarding his attitude about volleyball, which was relieving.

There was a substantial (and slightly awkward) pause as you peeled the white adhesive strip of cloth off of his fingers, working slowly enough so that it wouldn’t hurt, or so you hoped.

“There we go!” you exclaimed proudly as the last of the tape fell away from his fingers. He wiggled them experimentally, not unlike a newly hatched butterfly would flap its fresh new pair of wings.

“Thanks,” he responded curtly.

As if on cue, the bell rang, marking the end of study hall. It was time for chemistry class.

Over the course of your next class, your mind with occupied with thoughts that weren’t even remotely related to chemistry. You almost had a close call with the teacher when he called on you to answer a question, but thankfully, your friend sitting next to you whispered the answer in your ear — though not before giving you a quizzical look. You were too embarrassed to say that you were actually thinking about why the hell you actually agreed to help the guy sitting the next seat over whom you should have absolutely nothing to do with.

I did not just touch his hands no no no — I did not just hold hands with Tsukishima Kei — It wasn’t really of my own volition and he looked like he really needed help and I was feeling generous and it conveniently benefited the both of us, right? He got to finally be free from his misery and I— I got to touch his hands—

Your thoughts spiraled out of control as you buried your face in your hands, and perhaps some of the threads around your heart unraveled themselves that day.

Thus, after that day, your everyday routine changed in more ways than one. You would into the classroom, say hi to your friend in the third row, put your bag on the desk, pull out your chair, sit down, take out your notebook and pencils, and wait for approximately thirty-nine seconds until a tall blond guy with glasses walked through the door, and greet him with a nonchalant "hey" and a wave. If he still had tape around his fingers (which was quite often), you’d ask him if he needed help; he’d say yes, and you would spend the next however many minutes undoing the adhesive strips of cloth.

Today was no different. You carefully eased the tape away from Tsukishima’s fingers. When you got to the base of his ring finger, he hissed in pain. The skin there was red and raw as if it had been recently injured. Not as if, it had been.

“Sorry,” you whispered, wincing as if you were the one in pain. “How’d you get hurt?” This time, you were genuinely concerned for him, which was rare for anyone, especially him.

“The one time I put some more effort into volleyball as if it were actually worth something, it comes back to bite me,” he muttered, gritting his teeth.

You looked up from his hand.

“What?”

“I said, somehow I always give the things that I swear off from my life a second chance, it never, ever, works out,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you can’t get better out of sheer will? You’re bound to slip and fall on your butt at least a few times. Or a lot,” you responded.

“Nobody told me that falling would hurt this much, though,” he replied. He looked off to the side, too embarrassed to meet your gaze.

“It’ll get better, trust me. You just have to get back off your ass and stand up.”

You left the conversation at that and continued undoing the tape on his other hand.

I want to kiss his hands like I’m greeting the crown prince of a foreign kingdom, you thought, lips twitching, fighting back a small smile.

Oh my God, stop it! you mentally slapped yourself. You had to restrain yourself from actually slapping yourself in the face. Meanwhile, the uniform you wore began to feel a bit too warm — it was quite convenient that Tsukishima couldn’t see your face at that moment.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Tsukishima's thoughts weren’t nearly as calm as his cool and collected exterior.

After all, what was he supposed to do when he could feel your breath fanning on his hands (could he tell you were desperately trying to keep them steady?) and your meticulous fingers on his?

I must be going crazy, he thought.

He imagines holding your hand, and not because of that dumb finger tape-

He shook his head, as if to dislodge the idea from his memory. No, I’m definitely going crazy.

“So, do you like him or something?” your best friend asked out of the blue during a sleepover, the both of you laying in the darkness on your sleeping bags.

“Who?” you asked, though you had an idea of who she was referring to.

“Tsukishima. That guy who sits to your left during study hall.”

“No, why would I like him? I mean, how can you even tell if you like someone or not. It’s not like there’s a radar that detects crushes and blasts ‘OH MY GOD YOU’RE HOPELESSLY IN LOVE’ on speaker,“ you replied dryly.

“Do you feel different around him?” she asked.

“As in the cliché symptoms of love that you read in romance novels? Like you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest and you have to clutch your shirt like it’s gonna pop out onto the floor if you don’t? If that’s what you’re asking, then no.”

“I mean that could be a sign, but you don’t have to feel like that to like someone. I mean in the way that you’re willing to show them who you really are, including all the ugly parts of yourself that you wouldn’t show to other people.”

Of course not! you thought to yourself. There’s no way I would fall in love with someone that I argue with for fun, right?

“Why do you always complain about those tryhards on your volleyball team? You can always quit, you know,” you asked after Tsukishima was in a particularly bad mood about something, presumably about volleyball (as it usually was). As per your daily schedule, you were unraveling his finger tape during study hall once again.

“Don’t they know that the more effort they put into something, the more it’ll hurt when they find out everything they believe in is a lie?” he asked.

You paused. Oh, it was an a genuine question, you realized. And he wants a genuine answer.

“Such as?” you asked, your mouth acting quicker than your mind. I probably shouldn’t have pried deeper into something that’s obviously his business.

He went ahead and responded anyway, but not before taking a deep breath.

“When I was little,” he began, “I looked up to my older brother a lot. I really respected him, you know? He was my idol; he was perfect and infallible in every way. He played volleyball in junior high, so it was only natural that I played the same sport he did. And he continued playing throughout high school, or so I thought.”

“Or so you thought?” you repeated.

“He lied to me.” With those four words, you heard years and years of resentment and bitterness through his shaking voice, barely above a whisper.

“To be honest, I should’ve expected it,” he continued, laughing humorlessly at himself. “I was too enamored to realize that when he was trying to stop me from watching his games, he was also trying to stop me from finding out that he was a liar. He wasn’t even a starting player. Instead he was on the bench, cheering for the team he was supposedly on.”

As those words left his mouth, you realized how little you understood Tsukishima. No, it was honestly ridiculous how you could consider yourself his friend when all you did was unwind strips of tape from his fingers for a mere few minutes every day.

Despite that, you held his hands a little tighter.

“If you don’t mind, I had a similar experience in junior high as well. This girl that I was really close friends with apparently had a huge circle of friends outside of school, and she would tell me and my other friends about all the rich guy friends she had and how well they treated her and shit. But I found out years later that they were probably all made up so that she could have something to tell us. So that she could keep us in her friend group. I realized they were fake.”

You let go of his hands, your arms limp at the memory.

“And how are you two right now?” Tsukishima asked. “Your relationship, I mean.”

“Surprisingly, we’re still on good terms,” you said. “She still doesn’t know I found out. But despite her pretending to be someone else in front of us for all those years, I still don’t think she’s a bad person. I’m actually kinda glad she got the attention she wanted. But man, the past still hurts like a bitch,” you chuckled in an attempt to forget.

“I see,” he replied. With that, you picked up his hand once again, continuing to undo the tape around the rest of his fingers.

That day, both you and the once unyielding, stone-faced Tsukishima left the classroom knowing just a bit more about each other.

You didn’t know that day that Tsukishima had his first real conversation with his brother after ‘the incident’.

He didn’t know you gave that friend from junior high a call for the first time in two years.

And the threads around your hearts unwound themselves just a bit more.

“No, I don’t,” you finally responded after a long pause. “I don’t like him in that way. He’s just someone I can rant to about the shit that happened in junior high—”

“Say that again, but slower,” your friend interrupted.

“He’s someone that I can rant to about all the... stuff that happened in the past,” you repeated. Did she not hear me the first time?

“Exactly, that’s my point,” she responded. “You never talk about those things with anybody, and even when I bring it up, you just brush over it.”

The weight of what your friend was implying took far too long for your brain to register, but when it did—

“Oh shit, I think I might actually like Tsukishima.”

It was in the classroom of your mid-day study hall where Tsukishima Kei stole your heart bit by bit through the conversations you had with him while unraveling his finger tape; it was where you opened your heart and he opened his.

“You and Tsukishima aren’t a thing, right?” a voice asked you out of the blue in the hallway after the dismissal bell rang.

“What?” you asked, turning your head to see who it was. You recognized her, although you struggled to put a name to her face. “You sit in the back of our study hall classroom, right? And to answer your question, no, we are not a thing.”

Such questions were becoming all the more frequent these days, and you had the same two-letter answer to all of them (although you secretly hoped you could answer yes, but how Tsukishima felt about you was a whole different story).

“Yeah, I do. But are you sure you two aren’t dating? Like you could just be going out with him and not know it,” she answered.

You held back a snort that almost escaped your lips.

“No, I’m sure we aren’t,” you said with a sigh, trying to keep your tone remotely cordial. “Besides, I’m not sure if he even considers me as a friend.”

“Oh, I’m sure he considers you as more than that,” she replied with a tone you couldn’t quite decipher. “Trust me.”

You barely knew her, so you couldn’t say how credible her statement was (though you desperately wanted it to be true). You glanced at the clock, itching to end the conversation.

“Alright, then. I’ll take your word for it. I have to get home now though, seeya.”

“Seeya around then,” she replied with a wave. Why does that sound strangely ominous?

“Bye,” you answered, too mentally drained from the conversations that began with the same question: ”Oh my God are you dating Tsukishima?” (Answer: no, no you weren’t). Nonetheless, you couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in your head that you haven’t seen the last of her just yet.

She appeared the very next day, in the same spot at the hallway after school ended. That’s... strange.

You decided to ignore how off-putting it was. Maybe it was her wide smile — so much so that you could see her dimples and her blinding white teeth. Or maybe it was the way she spoke, like she was trying to get something from you. Whatever it was, you didn’t have what she wanted.

“If you’re asking whether Tsukishima and I became a thing within the past twenty-four hours, then no,” you said in exasperation. She was now walking by your side with an odd spring in her step, a bit too close for comfort despite the empty hallway.

“No, that wasn’t my question,” she said with a chuckle. “You keep denying that Tsukishima doesn’t like you, but I think he does.”

You had to scoff at that.

“In what way?”

“In that way,” she responded with a knowing glance. “You’re already in the talking stage with him! He never talks to anyone other than that one friend he has, so I’d say you’re off to a good start.”

“And that totally means that he’s in love with me.”

“Please, don’t lie to yourself. You’ve gotten farther than anybody has, even if they tried for their entire life. How did you do it?”

But I didn’t do anything, you thought.

“I just talked to him about stuff,” you replied slowly. The look she gave you said go on, so you did.

“I just talked to him about myself and deep stuff and shi— and such. I really didn’t do much, so I’m probably not the best person to ask. Why don’t you try and ask his friend Yamaguchi?”

“No, I think I’m good,” she said with an unreadable tone. “Well I gotta go, so see you tomorrow!”

“....Bye,” you replied halfheartedly. You tried to shake the unsettling feeling from your chest, but you couldn’t help thinking, What if he does like me back?

The volleyball made a resounding smack against the court behind the middle blocker instead of his hands. Tsukishima clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. Another ball that I couldn’t block?

“Hey, use your smartass head for once and pay attention!” Kageyama yelled across the court.

Tsukishima ignored his taunts.

“Oh, the smart mouth finally doesn’t have any words left to say? Finally some peace and quiet,” Kageyama muttered.

Practice continued for far too long, but the whistle finally blew, signaling everyone that it was time to go home. Finally, Tsukishima thought. I don’t have to listen to the King spew nonsense anymore.

He and Yamaguchi gathered their belongings and made their way out of the gym.

“Something’s on your mind,” Yamaguchi commented as they walked back home side by side.

“No there isn’t,” Tsukishima replied a bit too quickly to sound convincing.

“Right.”

A long silence ensued, the two of them kicking pebbles on the road and twiddling their thumbs in the cool night air. The buzz of the electric street lamps felt much too loud, feeding off the tension in the air.

“How can you tell that you like someone?” Tsukishima was the first to break the silence, but it was the question, not the fact that he was the one that spoke first, that was more jarring.

“So I was right,” Yamaguchi responded after a slight pause. He fought back a small smile and added, “I thought something bad happened that I didn’t know about, but it turns out that you’re just in love.”

The taller one of the two sighed.

“I’m asking you to tell me if I... like someone in that way, not for you to tell me that I am, Tadashi.”

“I can’t make a judgement if you don’t tell me anything. Tell me.” Yamaguchi lightly punched his friends arm.

“There’s this... classmate of mine. They asked if I needed help peeling off my finger tape during study hall and I said yes.”

“I figured as such.”

“What?”

“You always come into first period with your fingers still wrapped but it’s gone by the time practice starts. I always wondered why but I never got around to asking you. But I’m even more surprised at the fact that you actually agreed.”

“Yeah, I surprise even myself sometimes,” Tsukishima deadpanned. “Especially the fact that it would become something that they would ask pretty much every day, and I would say yes every time. I just don’t know whether I have feelings for them in that way or not.”

“Well, do you look forward to talking to them everyday?” Yamaguchi asked.

Yes.

“Do you want them to know you for who you really are instead of what people think you are?”

Yes.

“Does your mind wander to them all the time?”

Yes.

“If you flipped a coin to decide whether you do like them or not, would your gut tell you the answer before you looked at whether it landed on head or tails?”

Yes, Tsukishima answered silently, knowing he’d finally have to accept the truth: he was in love and there was nothing he could do about it.

One thing you didn’t know about having a crush on someone was that you suddenly realize how often they appear in your life. You knew where you’d cross paths with him in the hallway before and after school, where his locker was, and worst of all, every goddamn love song reminded you of him.

Even all the little mannerisms people had circled back to him: your friend would push her glasses up her nose the same way he did. Your mother would furrow her eyebrows like him when he was thinking about a particularly annoying math problem. Your English teacher would spin a pen between his fingers, just like him (although you had to admit that you preferred watching the latter do so; his hands were prettier).

Maybe this was just some twisted manifestation of the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon, but your brain couldn’t recall enough content from psychology class to be sure. Either way, you were going insane.

That is, until one rather unremarkable day; there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything came and went according to schedule — the same time spent with Tsukishima during study hall and the same boring class lectures. But as soon as the dismissal bell rang, you were surprised to find that the girl who would pester you in the hallway asking about you and Tsukishima’s relationship status (you still didn’t know her name) as if anything had changed (which it had not, of course).

Apparently, her presence had already become routine enough for you to notice her absence.

It was a welcome change, though; it wasn’t like you wanted her to be around. No, you absolutely didn’t need her nosy questions. So you just shrugged it off and made your way to the school’s exit like you normally did.

But a very familiar voice from a nearby classroom made your ears perk up — coincidentally, from your study hall classroom. You peered into the room from the doorway.

“Um, I think I like you, Tsukishima! I’ve felt this way for a long time and I just had to tell you!” The same boisterous girl who only had one topic of conversation with you (Tsukishima, of course) now had her hands coyly clasped behind her back, in all likelihood holding something meant for him.

As soon as you heard those words leave her mouth, the world around you seemingly ground to a halt — and so did you. As if your body stopped functioning for a moment, your heart stopped and your brain took much too long to process what she said.

What did it matter anyway? You didn’t take your chance and look where that got you.

You turned on your heel and half-walked half-ran outside the school.

The second thing you didn’t realize about having a crush on someone, you realized as you laid in the darkness in the middle of the night, is that it physically hurts. Someone might as well have put your heart in a jar of acid and screwed the lid shut — no matter how hard you tried, it still hurt. And hurt it did.

You felt a stray tear slide down your cheek, and you angrily punched your pillow. You didn’t even have the emotional capacity to be angry at the girl who confessed to him. It was too obvious that she liked him, from the way she would stand a bit straighter when you mentioned Tsukishima’s name to the way she seemed a bit too satisfied when you said that you weren’t dating him. Were you too much of an idiot to notice?

But most importantly, you were angry at yourself. Why were you crying over someone who you knew wouldn’t like you in the way that you liked him? Maybe you were too much of an idiot to not think things through; you’d just assumed that your feelings for him were so intense that he had to like you back. In retrospect, that was a stupid idea. But then again, in retrospect, you were the idiot all along.

It was in the classroom of your mid-day study hall where Tsukishima Kei stole your heart. It was in the same classroom where you got your heart broken for the first time.

The most annoying thing about the universe was that it was ruthlessly, unrelentingly cruel. The earth kept spinning even if your world stopped mid-orbit, too traumatized by loss to continue.

This was the brutal irony that you came to realize in the classroom where it all began and ended, supposedly. The very next morning, you had to pick your sorry self out of bed after however many hours of sleep you were able to get and go to school. And now half the school day had gone by — it was study hall time once again.

“Are you gonna help me get this off my fingers or not?” The voice that you wanted so desperately to get out of your mind after months of replaying in your head plagued you once again. Indeed, the universe was cruel.

“No,” you replied meekly with your head on the desk. “It’s been long enough for you to know how to do it yourself by now.”

“I insist.”

You hesitated. A second passed, then two.

“Fine.”

Ever since you realized your feelings for the other boy with a cold stare and an even icier glare, you couldn’t help but be hyper aware of yourself, and today was no different.

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. Could he? (It wasn’t that obvious, was it?)

You could feel yourself getting warmer by the second. Could he tell? (You were too busy looking at his hands; so let’s hope not.)

You knew that your heart was tugging you in his direction, urging you to do something. Was his doing the same? (You scoffed at yourself — you went over this last night and came to the conclusion that no, there was no way he could ever like you back.)

But maybe you wanted to be wrong this time. Being proven wrong wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed, but you would rather take the pessimistic point of view in this circumstance so you wouldn’t get hurt. And yet you still got your heart broken.

That didn’t stop your erratic heartbeat and staggered breaths whenever your fingers brushed over his, though. While slowly unwinding the tape down his fingers, you wondered how many threads he unwound from your heart for it to hurt so much when it broke. Too many for your emotions to be left undamaged by something like this, you reckoned. Not that it was his fault, of course. It was your own for becoming so naïve and vulnerable.

But, the universe was full of irony. While you had your head down, too embarrassed and dejected to say anything else, Tsukishima was thanking whatever gods existed that you couldn’t see how flustered he was.

Turns out, even people with hearts of stone can fall prey to the symptoms of falling in love. With a million thoughts collectively running through your minds, he was the first to blurt out:

“I think I’m in love.”

You let go of his hands, the loose end of the tape still dangling. There were too many questions raised at the utterance of a single sentence: With whom? When? How? Why?

Before you could organize your thoughts and form a coherent sentence — as if he could read your mind and peer into your soul — Tsukishima answered:

“With you.”

And as soon as the last two words fell from his lips, the last of the threads surrounding your worn, beaten hearts unraveled themselves, and fell away.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x gn!reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu angst #tsukishima angst #tsukishima oneshot

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gretavanfanfic · 3 years

Text

Room 419

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: 7200ish

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only

Summary: You and Jake are tricked into sharing a hotel room by your friends following their wedding.

Being a maid of honor in a wedding is no small feat. While you were flattered that your best friend had asked you to stand next to her on her big day, you quickly found out that it is a demanding and expensive role, and it has left you feeling overwhelmed more than a few times over the past couple months. Therefore, when she and her then-fiancé told you that they would book your hotel room for the night of the wedding, you were more than happy to let them take that responsibility out of your hands. It would be one less thing to worry about on a sure to be hectic day.

Maybe this was your mistake, but you were fully expecting them to book you your own room. Or if not your own room, you figured they may have paired you with one of the other bridesmaids. You’re not particularly close with any of them, but you would be fine for one night.

What you were not anticipating was having to share a room with the best man.

So when the reception comes to an end and you insert your key into the card reader for room 419, ready to shower off the day and crawl into bed, you're shocked to see that a body is already occupying the mattress. More specifically, Jake Kiszka’s body.

His brown shoes have been kicked off near the door and he’s still clothed in his navy dress pants, but his white shirt is fully unbuttoned, exposing his tan chest as he lounges on top of the plush comforter with his phone in his hand. His head pops up when he hears you enter, and while he looks surprised at first, a smirk quickly forms on his lips.

Now, you know Jake fairly well, but you wouldn’t say that you consider him a friend. Acquaintance is probably a better word. Your best friend and her new husband have been trying to set the two of you up for years now, and while you had gone on one date with him in the past, it never amounted to anything. He was very obviously only interested in casual sex, which he offered up multiple times on your date, and he was a bit cocky for your tastes. And while you can’t deny that you were very attracted to him and very tempted by his offer, you were looking for something more serious, so you declined his advances and the two of you never went out again. Since then, you’ve heard plenty about Jake’s various conquests with all sorts of beautiful women, and so you’re not upset with your decision to let it be a one and done sort of deal.

Still, your friends haven’t let up on their quest to get you and Jake together, claiming that your compatibility is off the charts. Every time you hang out with them and Jake is there, they make remarks about how perfect you are for each other, which you always try to brush off. Jake, however, has fun feeding into their delusion and will frequently make flirty comments to you, ranging from, “Come on, Y/N! Give the people what they want! You heard them, we’re perfect for each other!” to, “You know you want a piece of this, babe. There’s no need to fight it!” You try not to make it obvious that his little jests usually leave you a bit flustered, but he seems to always pick up on your embarrassment anyway. Sometimes it even seems like he’s...proud of the fact that he can so easily ruffle your feathers.

“Well, well, well. Y/N,” Jake says arrogantly from his spot on YOUR bed. “I’m glad to see you’re finally ready to admit that you want me. I have to say though, this is a bit unexpected.”

You give him a small, humorless laugh, but your unease is clear as you question in a somewhat shrill voice, “What are you doing in my room?”

Jake’s smirk turns into a full blown grin as he answers, “Actually, this is my room. Got the key and room number directly from the front desk. You can check if you want.” He points to the key card lying on the dresser so that you can look for yourself.

Wasting no time, you let out a small huff and march over to grab the card that’s still in its paper pocket on the wood surface. Sure enough, the number on it matches the number on yours.

Annoyed at the fact that you now have to pay the front desk a visit before you can crawl into YOUR bed, you frown at Jake’s smug face and stomp out the door and onto the elevator to return to the lobby.

After waiting in line for 10 minutes behind a couple who was checking in, you approach the desk at last and are greeted by a friendly looking young woman who asks, “Good evening, how can I help you?”

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you reply, “Hi, I think I was given the wrong room number. When I went inside just now, there was already someone in there.”

The woman immediately apologizes. “I’m so sorry about that ma’am. Let’s try to get that straightened out. What’s your name?”

You give her your information and watch as she types it on the keyboard, then clicks around on their computer system.

“Okay, I see we have you in room 419. Is that what you were told before?” she inquires.

“Yes,” you respond. “It looks like someone must have made a mistake with the other guest then, because he is insisting to me that 419 is his room.”

She clicks around some more and then states, “Well it looks like your reservation is for two adults. You and a Mr. Jacob Kiszka. We have a note here saying that you would be checking in separately.”

It’s at this moment that your blood begins to boil. In your head, you curse your best friend and her new husband, knowing that they are to blame for your current predicament. Even though they had pulled a few tricks in the past to try to get you and Jake together, you genuinely never would have expected them to go this far to couple you up.

It’s not that you have any particularly negative feelings toward Jake. More than anything, you’re upset that your friends have so blatantly disregarded your multiple refusals to go out with him. You know that they fully believe that they have your best interest in mind, but it still bothers you that they think they know what you need better than you do.

It would be one thing if the room had two beds, but, of course, they purposefully booked one that only has a single king-sized bed. You feel your skin itching with nervousness at just the thought of sharing a bed with a flirt like Jake.

Exasperated, you tell the front desk worker, “That’s not going to work for me. Can you get me booked in another room, please?”

The pleasant woman moves the mouse around some more, and then a frown appears on her face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, we don’t have any more rooms available tonight. Is there anything else I can do to make yours and Mr. Kiszka’s stay with us more comfortable?”

Blowing out an aggravated breath, you give her a tight-lipped smile and sigh, “No, thank you for your help.”

You hear her wish you a good night as you walk away, defeated. It’s one night, you tell yourself. It will be fine.

When you re-enter room 419, Jake is exactly as you left him, lying on his back, phone in hand. Without looking up he concludes, “So they pulled a fast one on us, eh?” His voice is neutral, not giving away how he feels about the situation at all.

Dropping your bag on the table in the corner of the room, you gripe, “Ugh, yes. I really should have known better than to take them up on their offer. They’re pretty relentless, huh?”

“You’re not kidding,” he agrees. “I might be pissed if they were trying to set me up with any of the other bridesmaids, but I can tolerate you I suppose.”

You give him a dry laugh in response and sit down to rid yourself of the uncomfortable high heels that you’ve been wearing for far too long. Your feet ache, and you release a relieved sigh when you’re free of the painful shoes. After that, you begin digging through your bag, pulling out your pajamas and toiletries and carrying them with you into the surprisingly roomy hotel bathroom.

Beginning the process of de-glamorizing yourself, you start by taking the obscene number of bobby pins out of your hair, then painstakingly run a brush through your heavily hairsprayed tresses. Next is your face, and you have to use multiple wipes to remove all of the make-up that is caked onto your skin.

It’s not until you’re fresh faced and finished brushing your teeth, ready to finally jump into the shower, that you realize that you’re not going to be able to get out of your dress on your own. The zipper is oddly placed on your back and there’s a hook and eye that’s just out of your reach. The other bridesmaids were there to help you get into it this morning, but now the only person available to assist you is Jake. Knowing what your options are, you spend a considerable amount of time attempting to get the garment off on your own, but it is to no avail.

Resigning yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to ask for his help, you trudge out of the bathroom and come to a stop next to the side of the bed that Jake has claimed. At your appearance, he peers up at you from his phone and gives you a curious look.

Spinning around so your back is to him, you request, “Can you help me get this thing off, please? I can’t reach.” For some ungodly reason, you feel the need to show him that your arms are too short to get to the fastenings, and you flail them around helplessly.

Jake chuckles at your demonstration, and then you hear the creak of the mattress springs as he rises from his spot on the bed. You weren’t actually expecting him to get up, thinking he would easily be able to do the job from his lounging position, so your bodies end up uncomfortably close when he stands behind you. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back for just a moment until you shuffle forward a bit to create some distance between the two of you.

Jake begins by sweeping your hair over your shoulder, his fingers delicately brushing the skin on the back of your neck in the process. His touch feels weirdly intimate, and it causes goosebumps to appear on your flesh where his fingertips are. You hope he doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t break the contact between your skin and his as he trails his fingers down your back to the top of the dress. When he reaches it, he takes hold of the seam, and his other hand comes up to smoothly drag the zipper down to its end, right below the band of your admittedly skimpy underwear. As he makes his way back up to the hook and eye, he allows his fingertips to glide up your spine, and you reflexively shiver.

If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely are now. Jake deftly undoes the small hook and the dress falls open, the entirety of your back on display. You feel exposed, and your arms instinctively rise to keep the gown from revealing any more of your skin to Jake’s eyes.

Not wanting to prolong the embarrassing moment any longer, you take a step forward with the intent of returning to the bathroom. Your movement, however, is halted by Jake quietly exclaiming, “Hey, wait!”

Turning your head to face him, you raise your eyebrows and look at him questioningly.

He closes the distance between you again, and his hand reaches up to toy with the piece of jewelry that adorns your neck. In a husky voice, he asks, “Do you want me to take this off too?”

You had forgotten all about the necklace that your friend had given you as a bridesmaid gift, but Jake was right. It was fairly elaborate and would not be comfortable to sleep in, so it would definitely need to be removed. And while you could probably navigate getting it off on your own, you still find yourself nodding at Jake to accept his offer.

Whirling back around, you use one hand to gather up your hair and hold it in a knot at the back of your head, giving Jake easier access to the clasp. Your other hand continues to clutch the front of your gown to your chest, the thin straps not doing much to maintain your modesty.

Jake inches even closer, and again, you feel his body heat against your back. You hate to admit it, but the proximity makes your breathing speed up significantly. With nimble fingers, he grasps the chain and swiftly undoes the clasp, catching the heavy piece of jewelry in one hand.

Dropping your hair, you spin to face him and take the necklace from his extended palm. You look up and see that the smirk from earlier is painted on his face once again. Cheeks burning, you

mumble a shy, “thank you,” before fleeing to the bathroom.

Regretfully, your thoughts drift to Jake while you’re in the shower. Standing under the spray with your eyes closed, you can’t help but visualize his form lounging on the bed in that unbuttoned shirt and those perfectly fitted dress pants, and then that leads you to relive the moment you shared not even ten minutes ago of him helping you out of your dress. Then your imagination runs a little wild and you have to force yourself to push him out of your mind before it goes too crazy.

By the time you’re rinsing the last bits of conditioner out of your hair and turning off the water, the tiredness from the long and hectic day has totally crashed over you. You can barely keep your eyes open as you comb the knots out of your hair and pull on the loose t-shirt and short shorts that comprise your pajamas.

Deciding to forego drying your hair in favor of getting to sleep sooner, you leave your belongings scattered on the vanity and traipse out of the bathroom, rubbing your eyes tiredly. The first thing your eyes land upon once they clear is Jake’s nearly naked form, slightly bent over and rifling through a small bag, his back to you. The pieces of his suit that he was still wearing when you last saw him have been discarded and hung up in the open coat closet, and his form-fitting navy boxer briefs are now the only article of clothing left on his body.

Though you’re ashamed to admit it, you ogle his ass for a good few seconds until he abruptly stands straight up, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. You’re sure you resemble a deer in headlights when he spins on his heel and catches sight of your wide eyes practically drilling holes into his scantily clad figure. A smug grin tugs at his lips and you quickly avert your gaze to the floor.

Not embarrassed in the least, Jake struts past you and into the bathroom that you just vacated, swinging the door closed with a loud click. A second later, you hear the faucet turn on.

Shaking yourself out of your daze, you flick on both of the bedside lamps and turn off the overhead light on the ceiling, a softer glow replacing the harsh brightness of the room. Even though you don’t appreciate his arrogance, you don’t want Jake to trip and fall on his pretty face when he exits the bathroom because the room is too dark.

You then plug your phone into the outlet next to the bed, and, finally, pull back the covers of the side of the mattress that has not been claimed by Jake. Climbing in, you turn on your side so that you’re facing away from the middle of the bed and scoot yourself almost to the edge, moving around until you’re comfortable. While you’re mature enough that you would never make Jake sleep on the floor when the bed is perfectly large enough for both of you, you do NOT want there to be any unnecessary contact between the two of you in said bed. Hence you confining yourself to a small space as far away from Jake’s side as possible.

Tugging the plush covers up to your chin, you allow your eyes to fall shut, and you are almost instantly overtaken by sleep. Your slumber doesn’t last long, however, because you’re awoken by the sound of the bathroom door opening and Jake padding back towards the bed. Your eyes snap open and you watch him, still clothed in only his underwear, come to your side of the bed and switch off the lamp, then walk to his own side and turn off the lamp there.

The glow of the moon is the only source of light as he lifts up the comforter and plops his nearly nude body unceremoniously between the sheets. He shifts around a bit, then exhales a loud breath when he finds a comfortable position. You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face as he turns his head to you on his pillow and says in a sickly sweet voice, “Good night, sweetheart.”

Too tired to respond, you give him a grunt of acknowledgement and close your eyes, praying you can fall asleep as quickly as you did the first time. It seems like you only listen to the rhythmic sound of Jake’s breathing for a few minutes before you slip into unconsciousness.

⏭

It’s still dark in the room when you awaken a few hours later. You’re lying on your side with your arm in an uncomfortable position, and you can feel the sensation of pins and needles traveling throughout the limb. On top of that, you are entirely too warm, an unidentified heat source attached to your back.

It only takes a few seconds for the sleepy fog in your brain to clear and for you to realize that the source of your discomfort is a body. More specifically, Jake’s body. And not only is he cuddled up against you, he also has an arm thrown over your waist and a leg slung over your thigh, holding you snugly against him. You’re not sure how you ended up like this, but you know that you need to move now. Meer acquaintances do not snuggle like this.

Without much thought, you make an attempt to slip free from his clutches and migrate back to your side of the bed. Jake’s hold on you is so tight though, that you’re hardly able to move an inch. The little bit that you are able to shift, however, has made you acutely aware of the fact that there is something rigid poking your backside, and it twitches slightly as you wriggle against it.

At first, the discovery of Jake’s boner pressing against you has you feeling ridiculously embarrassed. You can feel your cheeks heat up and your breathing quicken, and the combination of your absolute mortification and his body heat has you sweating.

You try again, a bit more forcefully this time, to break free from Jake’s grip, but it is to no avail. Your stirring must disturb him just a little, though, because he emits a low groan from his throat, then uses the arm around your waist to pull you even closer to him.

Quickly, your embarrassment turns to annoyance. You’re annoyed because you wouldn’t be in this predicament if you’d just taken it upon yourself to book your own hotel room. You’re annoyed because you could have asked one of the other bridesmaids to let you sleep in their room, but you decided to just bite the bullet and share with Jake for this one night instead. You’re annoyed because you made it a point to stay on your side of the bed, and you still somehow ended up in Jake’s clutches. You’re annoyed because your best friend and her new husband would have a field day if they could see you and Jake right now. But mostly, you’re annoyed because Jake’s hardness against your ass has your head swimming with thoughts that you definitely should not be thinking, and your thighs squeezing together in search of some sort of relief from the sudden rush of arousal between your legs.

It’s this overwhelming feeling of irritation that leads you to growl out, “Jake,” in an attempt to wake him.

Your efforts result in nothing. Not even a stir. He continues to snuggle you and sleep peacefully.

Raising your voice even more, you slap his arm lightly and bark, “Jake!”

Once again, he does not respond. The man sleeps like a log, apparently.

His lack of a response only fuels the aggravated fire in you, and so you turn your head towards his and shout, probably too loudly, “Jake! Let me go!”

Finally, in reaction to your yelling, Jake’s body jumps and his eyes pop open in alarm. He looks around in confusion for a second and his arm leaves your waist briefly to rub at his still partially closed eyes, but he returns it to the same spot as he questions, “Jesus, babe. Why are you yelling? Go back to sleep.” His voice is gravelly and you watch as he closes his eyes again as soon as he gets the words out.

You balk at both his nonchalance and the pet name he called you. You shouldn’t be surprised at either, but you are.

Squirming against him again, you agitatedly snap, “Are you going to let me go, or do you plan on holding me captive all night?”

From behind you, Jake hums against the back of your head and flippantly states, “I don’t know what the issue is, babe. I’m very comfortable like this.”

You’re positive that, even though he’s hardly awake, there is a smirk marring Jake’s features at your current lack of composure. The thought makes you clench your jaw in ire.

“The issue,” you start, through gritted teeth, “is that your dick is literally poking my ass. Now, let me go.”

Wordlessly, Jake flops from his side onto his back, ridding you, at last, of the arm and leg that were holding you against him. As soon as you’re free, you scramble as far as you can away from him and flip to your back as well, hoping to improve the circulation in your arm that had fallen asleep.

“Please try your best to stay on your own side,” you request tersely. He just hums in response.

Despite being free and more comfortable now, you are unfortunately still wide awake, mind racing and incredibly (disturbingly) turned on. You stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to will away the throbbing of your clit that has only seemed to become more intense since you separated from Jake. You curse him in your head for having this effect on you.

A few minutes pass and you decide to chance a glance at him, curious if he already fell back asleep or is lying wide awake like you. Slowly, as to not raise his suspicions, you turn your head on the pillow to look, and immediately regret doing so.

Neither you nor Jake had thought to shut the curtains before climbing into bed, and the moon is shining particularly bright tonight. Bright enough that Jake’s form is illuminated next to you, and you can clearly see that he is still hard. A sizable tent is present in the thin sheet covering him from the chest down, and he is lying with his arms stretched upward, hands cradling his head, and eyes wide open. He is taking deep breaths, seemingly trying to calm himself down.

The sight does NOT help quell your arousal in the slightest, and you know you need Jake and his erection to vacate the premises before you combust. You know you shouldn’t say the words before they even come out of your mouth, but the suggestion falls past your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Maybe you should, like, go take care of that or something.”

Jake’s head whips toward you. The moonlight reveals raised eyebrows, but then the dreaded smirk appears. Again. You really cannot fathom how he can be so shameless and confident at a time like this.

He takes some time to consider your recommendation, then retorts, “Actually, I was hoping maybe you would help me out…”

A noise that’s something between a strangled cackle and a sputter leaves your throat at his proposal. You give him a look as though he has lost his damn mind, and disbelievingly croak, “Excuse me?!”

Jake is undeterred. “Come on, babe,” he goads. “We both know that the sexual tension between us is off the charts.”

Astounded, you gape at him for a second. The irritation you were feeling replaced by bewilderment. You truly do not know how to reply, and so you stutter out, “I-”

“Please don’t try to deny it,” Jake cuts you off. He sits up, reaches over to flick on his bedside lamp, and turns his body to face you before going on. “I see how you look at me sometimes when you think I’m not paying attention. I see how flustered you get when I flirt with you in front of our lovely friends. And I saw how you reacted when I touched you earlier. You got goosebumps the second I laid my han-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” you interrupt, having heard enough. But Jake’s not done.

“You can’t tell me that you don’t find me attractive, Y/N.”

And he’s right. You can’t say that. Because he’s probably one of the most beautiful humans you’ve ever laid eyes on. And even though you hate feeding into him, you aren’t a liar.

“I never said that,” you resolve, and Jake’s face lights up. “I just think that us hooking up could make things messy. Like, I don’t want to feel awkward if I try to hang out with my best friend and you’re there. Because let’s face it, we see each other all the time. How weird would having a one night stand make that?”

You’re proud of yourself for being able to coherently voice your thoughts and maintain your rationality. As much as your body may want to fuck Jake in this moment, your head is well aware of the implications a meaningless hook up with him would have.

Jake, apparently, does not understand the implications though, because he is staring at you with a perplexed look on his face. “Who said it would be a one night stand?” he asks, and his tone tells you that he isn’t joking.

What does that mean? What does this man want from me?

You involuntarily scrunch your face, then sit up as well. “I thought that was implied,” you admit, skepticism evident. “When we went out that one time, you were definitely more interested in a casual fuck than a relationship.”

Jake laughs and shakes his head. “Y/N, that was literally years ago.”

“And? What’s changed? I’ve seen how many girls you’ve gone through since then,” you counter, not buying that Jake is suddenly ready to commit to one person.

He emits a loud sigh. “Listen,” he begins, running a hand through his mostly straight brunette hair. “I realize my past behavior may be a little...off putting. But I have to tell you, I’ve been pissed at myself for scaring you off ever since that date we went on.”

You’re dumbfounded. It never even crossed your mind that Jake may have regretted how things between the two of you turned out. He certainly never gave you any hints that he was interested in you.

You want to ask him for further clarification, but he speaks again before you’re able to.

“I can tell that you want to ask me a million and one questions, but I really don’t think we need to make it that complicated. I’ll just say this: I like you. And I think maybe we should just...see where things go. No pressure.”

The suggestion is tempting. Especially the sex aspect. Your heat is practically begging for Jake’s touch at this point, the wetness starting to become uncomfortable. But the “seeing where things go” part has you feeling apprehensive.

Does that just mean that he wants to fuck you regularly? Like a friends with benefits situation? Or does that mean that he wants to, like, take you out on dates and be exclusive? You can’t say you would be opposed to that, but he’s being so...vague.

You decide to voice your apprehension out loud. “I don’t know, Jake…” you drawl, staring at the wall behind his head.

Your fingers fidget with the hem of your pajama shorts, a visible display of your nerves, until Jake inches closer to you and takes your hands into his own. He uses his thumbs, calloused from years of playing guitar, to run gentle circles on the backs of your hands as he pleads, “Come on, Y/N, let me make you feel good.”

And you’re ashamed that that’s all it takes for you to give into him, but not even a second passes before you’re mumbling out a quiet, “okay,” and watching a smile, a genuine one, take over his face. Then you’re gracefully (you hope) climbing into his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist. At the same time, your arms find their way around his neck and his wind around your waist, hands settling on your lower back.

Surprisingly, the two of you don’t dive into it right away. For what feels like multiple minutes, Jake just stares up at you and you stare back, both of you breathing heavily through parted lips. The tension in the room is palpable. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, and its pace quickens even more when you become conscious of Jake’s erection, hard and warm and dangerously close to your heat.

Unable to refrain, you look down between your bodies and see just how close your sexes are, only an inch of space and a few thin layers of material separating your most intimate area from Jake’s. And suddenly the room feels 10 degrees warmer.

Spurred on by the sight, you dig your heels into the mattress and use the leverage to drag yourself even closer to him, so that your clothed core makes contact with his covered cock. At once, your nipples harden to stiff peaks and your hips instinctually rock forward.

This motion is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Jake. A pained groan sounds from the back of his throat and then his hands are gripping the back of your head and he’s pulling your face down so he can fervently plant his lips on yours.

All of the remaining walls you had raised to protect yourself come crumbling down in that moment, and you kiss him back with just as much enthusiasm, consequences be damned. You would never confess out loud to having thought about this moment before, but in your head you think that his kiss is even better than you imagined.

Hands gripping his hair, you allow him to suck on your bottom lip momentarily before thrusting your tongue in his mouth. It tangles with his and you feel tingles throughout your body. But unlike the tingling sensation you had experienced in your arm earlier from lack of circulation, this tingling is actually pleasant. You sigh into his mouth.

Jake’s hands find your waist and begin to explore under your flimsy pajama shirt, all while he continues to kiss you like his life depends on it. His fingers glide up your rib cage to just below your breasts, then back down again, leaving a trail of fire on your skin. Every time he does it, you hope he’ll venture higher, but he never strays from his path.

Wanting nothing more than for him to pay your breasts some attention, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Pulling your lips away from his, you lean back the smallest amount and swiftly yank the shirt off your body, leaving your chest exposed to his greedy eyes. You toss it haphazardly to the floor and revel at the whine that comes from Jake at the unveiling of your bare tits. You feel butterflies in your stomach as he stares at them like they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

When he meets your gaze again and asks, voice strained, “Can I?” you expect to feel his hands paw at your chest upon receiving your permission. Instead, you’re taken aback by the moist heat of his mouth enveloping your nipple, the suction he applies makes you toss your head back and moan. Loudly.

He works furiously at the tiny bud, alternating between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it between his perfect lips. It feels so good that your hips begin grinding against him on their own accord, your grip on his hair holding him to your chest. You know your underwear is probably soaked by now. Hell, your pajama shorts are probably soaked too. And you should be embarrassed, but Jake is making you feel so euphoric that you simply do not care.

Jake’s hands have moved to your ass, and it’s the small pinch he gives the flesh there that makes you loosen your grip on him slightly and look down at him. He releases your nipple with a small pop and pulls your face down to his again, giving you a brief, but still deep, kiss on the lips. Then, in stark contrast, he starts to trail feather light kisses down your jaw and neck, making his way to your other breast.

The two of you make eye contact as he takes that nipple into his mouth, and your jaw falls open at both the sensation and the sultriness of his gaze. Little whimpers sound from your throat as he pays just as much attention to it as he did to the opposite side.

When Jake’s decided that he’s had his fill of your boobs, his lips move up to your collarbone and he leaves a decent sized hickey on the skin there. You fleetingly think that you’re going to have to cover it up before the bridal party brunch in the morning, but that thought disappears when Jake’s right hand seeks out your lower abdomen and his fingers sneak past the waistband of your shorts.

Much to your chagrin, he doesn’t let them slip into your underwear, instead choosing to rub you through the damp fabric of your panties. As soon as his thumb makes contact with your clit through the material though, you’re practically melting, core clenching in delight at the pressure. You choke out a gasp and allow your eyes to fall closed.

Jake doesn’t find this acceptable though, as he uses his free hand to grab your chin and coaxes, “Hey. Look at me.”

And so you do. You stare into his eyes, pupils so dilated that they are almost entirely black, while biting your lip and grinding against his hand as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place, a softness that almost feels like adoration, and it makes your cheeks flush. He has definitely never looked at you like this before.

In what feels like no time at all, you’re dangerously close to your peak. Only a few more strokes of his thumb and you know you’ll be seeing stars.

Then, right when you’re about to explode, Jake’s touch disappears. And while it may be dramatic, you really feel like you could cry from him ruining what was sure to be an amazing orgasm.

You’re about to voice your dissatisfaction, but Jake promptly removes his hand from your shorts and gives you a gentle smack on the ass.

“Lay down,” he demands raspily, patting the unoccupied area of the mattress to his side.

In a rush to have him touch you again, you do as he says and remove yourself from his lap, settling against the fluffy white pillows. You almost allow your hand to fall between your legs and pick up where he left off, but you refrain.

Your eyes follow Jake as he lazily rises from the bed and saunters over to his bag, combing through it until he locates his wallet and produces a foil packet. Before he joins you back on the bed, he shoves his tight boxer briefs down his legs, kicking them to the side once they’re low enough. His erection springs free from its confines, and your eyes immediately lock onto it. From where you’re lying, you can see the pre-cum leaking from the tip, and your mind starts to feel hazy with desire.

You watch in awe as he circles his hand around his cock and gives it a few lazy strokes while he makes his way back to you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. The sight is downright obscene, and so is the noise you make in response.

When he crawls back onto the bed, he settles himself between your legs, and, without pausing, reaches for the waistband of your shorts. Looking to your face for permission, you give him a small nod and then he’s pulling both your shorts and your panties down your thighs and past your calves until they lie forgotten at the end of the bed.

Still on his knees, Jake inspects your nude body head to toe, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. He moves to stroke himself again, but you sit up a bit and reach for him instead, rubbing your palm from the tip of his dick to the base, shivering at the groan he releases from his throat.

He allows you to continue for a few more strokes, clearly enjoying himself, but then he’s batting your hand away, whispering “Not gonna last if you keep that up,” and slithering over your body, trapping your lips in a kiss and taking your breath away.

You’re so caught up in the kiss that it takes you by surprise when his fingers find their way between your legs and he plunges two of them inside of you, alternating between pumping in and out and curling them so that they hit that one magical spot that makes your toes curl. He keeps his thumb busy on your clit, and his actions have you panting into the kiss, little whimpers passing from your mouth to his.

In no time at all, those whimpers turn into full blown moans, and you unintentionally break the kiss as you writhe against him. Taking the opportunity to kiss a path to your ear, Jake playfully bites at your lobe, then whispers, “Shit, you’re fucking drenched. So wet for my fingers. I can’t wait to fuck you.”

By now, you’re desperate for him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you, and so you scratch your nails lightly down his back and breathe, “Then do it. God, please.”

Jake doesn’t need any further prompting. Abruptly, he pulls back and reaches for the condom, tearing open the foil and rolling it on his perfectly sized (in your mind, at least) dick as you observe with hooded eyes.

Draping his body over yours, Jake encourages you to part your legs wider, and extends a hand to grip his cock. Teasing you, he rubs the head of his penis over your clit a few times, causing you to hiss. You can tell he wants to shoot you that infuriatingly sexy smirk, but the pleasure of the contact between you has his jaw hanging open instead.

When he does push into you, at last, you both breathe a sigh of relief. His eyes lock on yours as he finds a rhythm, slow and deep at first but gradually increasing in speed and pressure. There’s an undeniable fire between you as he thrusts his hips into yours, filling you and making you moan.

The tender look in his eyes from earlier has returned, and you can’t help but melt into a puddle of pleasure and affection when he grunts out, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

He kisses you again, tongue seeking out yours and battling with it, somehow heightening your senses even more. This doesn’t feel like just a kiss though, it feels like Jake is using his mouth to convey exactly how much he likes you, and you’re eagerly responding.

As he continues pumping into you, your hands land on his shoulders, squeezing every time he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside of you. One especially hard thrust has you clenching around him, and Jake buries his face into your neck, groaning deeply. You can tell he’s close because his movements start to become a bit erratic, and thinking about Jake coming has you close to your climax too.

And it’s like Jake can read your mind, because as soon as you start feeling like you need just a little bit more to push you over the edge, he uses his arm to hook your right leg and raise it up, changing the angle in a delicious way. That, in combination with his thumb finding your clit and applying some much needed pressure, has you crying out his name, your orgasm shuddering through you in waves.

He’s not far behind you, giving a few more sloppy thrusts before his face is overtaken by pleasure and he’s cursing, collapsing on top of you.

The two of you lie like that for a moment and catch your breath, his weight fully on top of you and his head resting on your chest, and it’s scary how much you enjoy it. How right it feels. When you do part ways momentarily so that you both can clean up, you feel a strange pang in your heart that dissipates as soon as you’re back in bed and in his arms.

And while a part of you wants to check in with Jake, see how he felt about what you just did, ask more questions about his current stance on relationships, you decide to let it go for the time being and just enjoy the moment. As you cuddle into him and fall back asleep for the few short hours you have left in this hotel room, you think to yourself that, while you’re not thrilled about having to admit to your best friend and her new husband that they were right, you’re more than just a little excited to “see where things go” with Jake.

#Greta Van Fleet #jake kiszka #smut #fanfic #imagine #my writing #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van smut #one shot #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #gvf #gvf fic

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judyhopps934-mt-zd · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Gang of Secrets

Warning: Spoilers and intense emotions. Have fun!

Chat Noit sensed that something is wrong with Ladybug. Love how he can sense that based on what she doesn't say.

She almost didn't pound it and was distracted to do so. Oh boy.

BOIIII WHY DID YOU TAKE HER TO THE MOVIES???? THIS IS NOT THE TIME!!! AND LADYBUG KNOWS THIS AS SHOWN BY HER FACIAL EXPRESSION!!! I am SCREAMING because he took her to a movie ABOUT ROMANCE!!!

The civilians do not mind that superheroes are going to the movies. That is until...

Ladybug goes into this rant about romcoms and I agree with every word she says. There is no such thing as a happy ever after and things do not go perfectly. Go off Ladybug!!! There's a reason why I hate rom coms.

The civilians being shocked/annoyed from her rant just adds to it. I am guessing because this is literally freaking Paris and considering the couples there. Has the same vibes as Grunkle Stan from Gravity Falls when he approached a couple to say marriage is terrible in the second episode.

Hurts that the rant was the reflection of Marinette's dilemma.

Chat finds out that it was about heartbreak. He finally picks up about social cues! Good work Chat! Too bad that you learned that after your breakup with Kagami.

Ah, the swimming pool. A great place to go to forget your heartbreak go for a swim.

Realized that akumas cannot attack people if they are submerged under water, which is why she goes to the pool and a theory roaming online that she goes to the pool to cry makes a lot of sense.

I know this is a kids show and that logic gets thrown out the window, but does no one in Paris find it fishy that Ladybug in her swim suit enters the Dupain-Cheng household???? I feel like no one cares.

Ladybug might say that the board of pictures with Adrien and Luka and some of her friends might not bother her, but it seems to bother her somewhat as it is a reminder of the relationships that she can't have as long as she's Ladybug. It hurts badly though.

Unpopular opinion: The Kwamis can be good at providing comfort and probably make them laugh, but they are not the best therapists. Do not blame them though.

Marinette only detransforms for Tikki's wellbeing. She is at that point where the only reason she does something is because someone else is suffering, not for herself. It hurts seeing her suffer like this.

Tikki is fine despite being in the earrings for a long time. She is more concerned about Marinette though.

Meanwhile, the girls have their suspicions about Marinette as they did not know about her breakup with Luka until he told Juleka, which started a chain that I cannot remember, but do remember that it ended with Alya.

They call Marinette, but she does not answer because what will she tell them? The not answering part is a mood, but the reason hurts.

Alix being like "why not get orange juice with her and talk about her feelings" and everyone else staring at her as if she was the one with a crazy idea. I can't! Especially when she was like "*sigh* fine"

Also, Luka is not taking the breakup well either if Juleka's photo is anything to go by.

The bracelet idea is cute. I did something similar to that Junior year.

The scene from the ad that made us mad: Marinette transforming angrily after saying how her life as Marinette is complicated and prefers to be Ladybug all the time. It hurts to see this scene actually be in the 3rd episode as the guardianship and the breakup had consumed her so quickly.

Baby girl, we love you and we know as the audience how hard your life is now. This is why we are very concerned about you challenging ShadowMoth. Concerning.

But she breathes and goes back inside. Glad that you blew off some steam, but is everyone in Paris not aware that this just happened?!?!? Hello!?!?!?! Like Plagg said: People are blind. And a good thing too.

Just as this was happening, the girls come barging in. Good that they are great friends for being concerned, but have they ever heard of knocking?

Rose finds the dollhouse. Its a nice dollhouse, but isn't that too obvious that it will attract other people's attention? Not judging though, its a nice dollhouse and shows the expansion of Marinette's craft.

Originally, I thought they were coming after Marinette because of what happened in the episode "Ladybug", but glad to know her other friends cared about her too!

Alya comes up to find Marinette in the balcony just as she detransformed. That was WAYY too close.

Obviously, this made Marinette angry. Like who wouldn't be? They did barge into her room without asking and she was already stressed out as it is. And they were also snooping through her stuff.

In the heat of anger, Marinette said that she didn't want their friendship, which shocked everyone. So they left. But they weren't mad, they were just upset.

At least no friends means reduced amount to lying??? Yeah, but we need friends in life, so it is a lose-lose case.

Sabine asks of they are okay and no one says anything. I wonder if she will ask Marinette later on.

They go to the park and as they recall their pain, ShadowMoth akumatizes them in a link because of their emotional connection to the bracelet. They didn't even have to hold hands in a circle!

Finally, a safeguard for the Miracle Box that isn't obvious and is protected by a passcode. The record sonogram (or whatever is called) that Master Fu had!

Bruh, they couldn't come up with something different for the Gang of Secrets other than their former akumatized selves???

And then the girls (now the Gang of Secrets) barge into Marinette's room (again) to get her to spill her secrets.

Trixx using their power of illusion to lead the Gang of Secrets somewhere else. And Marinette was hidden.

Lady WiFi wondering how Marinette jumped 3 stories without superpowers was just that wholesome moment like girl you don't even know.

Every kwami using their powers without a holder has their own adverse affect. For Trixx, it was making the Eifel Tower dance (or at least I think it's dancing)

Plagg is like "this isn't a me thing, this is an everyone thing, but more importantly a Trixx thing." Adrien is like "M'Lady needs me!"

Ladybug and Marinette merge into one (figuratively speaking) when she tells Chat why the Gang of Secrets was there in the first place. Poor girl, we need to give her a hug.

Ladybug confronts Lady WiFi and tries to tell her that she is trusted and about Rena Rouge. Then...

SHE BREAKS OUT OF HER SIDE OF THE AKUMATIZATION!!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! ALYA HAS BECOME THE FIRST PERSON TO BE AKUMATIZED AND BREAK OUT OF IT! AND SHE HURT SHADOWMOTH WHILE DOING SO! I'M HAPPY FOR MY GIRL.

Ladybug trusts Alya and gives her the Fox Miraculous again. Not complaining, but what about ShadowMoth knowing her secret identity??? Miracle Queen anyone??? You know, a chunk of the reason WHY MARINETTE IS SUFFERING IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!?!?

Also, teleportation of the Miraculous from the Miracle Box to Ladybug's yoyo! (Well more like a direct connection!) Cool and smart!

Rena Rouge, THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING US MARICHAT STANS AND OUT #justice for Marichat CAMPAIGN STARTED BY SOME OF MY FOLLOWERS ASKING FOR MORE MARICHAT EVEN IF IT WAS FOR 3 SECONDS!!!! (Yes I notice your comments peoples, I am generally a tired and busy person to respond, but I eventually acknowledge everything)

Can we take a moment and point out how amazing it was that Chat was fighting three (four???) akumas ON HIS OWN WHILE ON THE CAT PHONE!!! ICONIC!

IT WAS ALL SO CLOSE! SHADOWMOTH ALMOST HAD THE MIRACULOUS IF IT WEREN'T FOR PERFECT TIMING!

The moment with Alya in the alley! Friendship goals.

Marinette comes to terms that the breakup upsetted her so much and finds that love is complicated and chose friendship at the very least. Their reunion was what they all needed after what happened.

Alya stays behind to say that she knows that there is more, but will not press further. Can we get an applause for character growth?

Marinette asks her to stay longer as she wanted to tell her something.

It really was hard for her to keep lying to everyone and how she had to break up with Luka for this reason while also fearing that it would be the same with Adrien (she does not know, so she has a right to fear, also Chat Blanc!) She really needs a hug and such.

The whole concern about things changing between them is relatable to be but on a different context. It hit hard for me.

My fellow peoples: the moment that we were (sort of) waiting for ages is here:

JE SUIS LADYBUG! MARI TOLD ALYA THAT SHE'S LADYBUG!!!!

And Alya GIVES HER A HUG AS IN SHE UNDERSTOOD WHAT THIS MEANT AND THE REALIZATION OF WHAT MARINETTE WENT THROUGH!

As sad as I am that it was not Chat that she said this to first, I am glad that it was Alya. As her best friend literally hours prior to becoming Ladybug, having stuck by her side unconditionally, and having the willpower to break out of her akumatization, Alya is a perfect choice. Now I look forward to see how Alya helps Marinette deal with this burden.

Overall, this is a top tier episode, aka the best episode in the entire series in my opinion! I love how we explore Marinette's feelings regarding everything that is going on in her life and the ramifications of her being a guardian. It hurts and at the same time, it is beautifully executed! It shows the evolution of the writing and of the characters!

My arm hurt from the vaccine yesterday and these posts are usually long, so that's why it's released today rather than yesterday. Anyways, I recommend watching this episode!

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oumakokichi · 3 years

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hello! could you talk a bit more about the original (as in jp, not localization) ouma's personality and speech patterns? you've mentioned that he tends to trail off or speak more softly when it is implied he is speaking the truth, etc. and how he is not so loud/intentionally obnoxious. //btw when does he call himself a fairy? that's so cute

I got a couple of questions asking about the fairy line Ouma has, so I don’t mind sort of rolling them both into one! And I’m more than happy to talk a little more in-depth about Ouma’s speech patterns and personality in the original game, too!

Since I’ll be covering some late-game spoilers, I’ll put the bulk of this under the cut, so be careful when reading!

First off, I cannot stress how much I recommed playing ndrv3 with the Japanese voices enabled. If you’ve already played through the English dub but never experiened the original voice acting cast, I promise you won’t be disappointed. The Japanese cast are all fantastic, incredibly talented VAs who, unlike the dub, were hired specifically for these roles and not just re-casted from previous DR games.

Hiro Shimono as Ouma gives an absolutely incredible performance. The localization might still have many flaws in its translation and omission of certain lines or punctuation, but you can still very much get a feel for how Ouma’s character was intended by listening to Shimono’s performance. Re-playing the game with the Japanese voices will definitely let you hear how soft and tonally different Shimono’s performance is in places from the English dub, and compare it to the way in which many lines are written and punctuated as if Ouma’s yelling at everyone.

That isn’t to say that Shimono’s Ouma is never loud or excited: Ouma is a character whose moods and façades are all over the place, and therefore his performance requires a voice actor who can similarly change moods and intonation on a dime. Ouma is very much loud and haughty and deliberately annoying when he’s supposed to be, but his voice is also low and ominous at other points when he’s trying to be scary. And again, it’s soft and hesitant in places where he’s considering divulging some of his information, or when he’s insisting that all the things he does are for everyone’s sake, because he cares about them and doesn’t want anyone to die.

These moments feel so much more genuine in the Japanese version of the game--because they’re meant to be. As fantastic of a liar as Ouma is, it’s much easier for us, the player, to tell when he’s lying on a re-play, knowing the information from chapters 5 and 6 that we do, and looking at cues like his sprites (often his blank-faced ones) and, yes, his delivery of certain lines.

This probably sounds like me just gushing about what a fantastic voice actor Hiro Shimono is, and in part that’s exactly what it is, but I want to stress that pretty much every single voice actor in the Japanese cast is just as fantastic and that they all do their jobs incredibly well. With all that gushing out of the way, I’ll move on to talking about some of Ouma’s actual speech tics and the way he refers to other characters.

Like most things about him, Ouma’s speech patterns are sort of an interesting mix and even seem a little contradictory at times. He uses the very masculine pronoun “ore” (オレ), but he also refers to nearly everyone (with only a handful of exceptions) by their surnames and the much more childish honorific “-chan” (i.e. “Saihara-chan,” “Akamatsu-chan,” “Amami-chan,” etc.)

The use of “-chan” is very interesting. Honorifics in Japan are extremely complicated and tend to mean different things depending on who is using them. Typically, “-chan” is seen as a very feminine way to refer to someone else, commonly used in close-knit friend groups among school girls.

There are, of course, a few notable exceptions to this however: often times, middle-aged or elderly people will call a child “-chan” regardless of gender, as a way of showing they find them cute and endearing. And sometimes, people will use “-chan” to refer to other things they find cute, such as pets, or even to refer to themselves in a sort of informal, tongue-in-cheek way.

The fact that Ouma uses “-chan” as an honorific to refer to nearly everyone in the game stands out quite a lot: by and large, boys don’t use this term to refer to other boys. Using “-chan” to refer to anyone you’ve just met or don’t know very well is already somewhat frowned upon, but a boy using it to refer to other boys is especially rare. This helps set Ouma’s character up as someone who is both incredibly casual and informal with others (not to mention, you know, quite coded). Considering childishness and lightheartedness are traits Ouma values, and how much emphasis is put on him having “a very innocent, childish streak that’s hard to hate,” it makes sense then that he would talk like this.

Not counting Monokuma and the Monokubs, the only characters who Ouma doesn’t refer to with “-chan” are Gonta and Kiibo, who he simply calls by name. This also says some interesting things about his character.

Gonta is easily the character who Ouma interacts with the most often, as well as the charater he hurts the most in the end. Ouma’s choice to exclude Gonta from his usual way of calling people is, I think, a testament to how much Gonta really wanted to be friends with him, even if their friendship was never exactly on equal footing.

Meanwhile with Kiibo, I feel the choice to exclude him from his usual way of addressing others is indicative of how much Ouma tried to remind himself that Kiibo “wasn’t human,” and therefore how suspicious he found his presence in the killing game. We know Ouma suspected Kiibo and likely even had an inkling of his role as the audience proxy/camera in the game, due to how Kiibo’s picture is one of the only others set aside on his whiteboard besides Saihara’s, with the word “weird” written next to it (he also clearly guessed about the cameras after Gonta’s line in chapter 2, as we see from how he commissioned Miu for the bug-vac).

Ouma clearly enjoys teasing Kiibo a lot, and their banter reads very much like a manzai comedy duo; I feel like Ouma often tried pushing himself to remember that Kiibo “wasn’t human” on purpose in order to not get too attached to him or too distracted from his goal of ending the killing game. I don’t think Ouma’s decision to exclude Kiibo from the way that he very particularly referred to most of the rest of the group was just an accident or a coincidence.

Honorifics aside, Ouma also refers to several characters in interesting ways. He often uses “daisuki na ___-chan” (大好きな) to refer to some of the other characters, a phrase which more or less equates to “my beloved.” He uses this phrase with Saihara more than any other character of the game, but there are a few other instances where he does use it with Amami, Momota, and (if I’m remembering correctly) Kaede. Pretty much every single instance where the localization put, “because I love you” or “because you’re my favorite” whenever Ouma was talking to Saihara was usually a point where he would specifically call him “my beloved Saihara-chan.”

In chapter 4 during the scene where Ouma is alone in the parlor of the VR world, he also specifically, exclusively refers to Saihara as “suki ni natta hito” (好きになった人), literally: “the person I fell in love with.” This line was changed in the localization to, “when there’s a person I like,” which is more or less literally correct--however, the phrase “suki ni natta” is much heavier and more loaded with explicitly romantic implications than “suki” would be on its own, as it’s often used in Japanese love songs and shoujo manga love confessions.

Worth noting in my opinion is the fact that this is the exact same phrasing Maki uses to describe her romantic feelings for Momota. Since Maki’s feelings for Momota are considered canonically confirmed because of this, Ouma’s feelings should be considered equally canon, but a lot of people don’t know this because, well, it’s sort of been lost in translation.

And now, on to the fairy line! Ouma calls himself a fairy in chapter 3, when he pops up in the middle of Saihara and Korekiyo’s discussion of the katana in Korekiyo’s lab. Full of enthusiasm, he decides to touch the sword and examine it for himself; Korekiyo starts to object, but Ouma interrupts and says:

“Come on, it’s not a big deal! I’m like a fairy, so it’ll be fine!”

I’ve always really loved this line and thought it was super adorable, both as a nod to how fairies aren’t supposed to be able to touch steel in most fae mythos, as well as the fact that fairies tend to also have a love for mischief and pranks and lies. The localization apparently didn’t like it so much though, because this line is simply changed to, “Come on, would I lie to you?” instead.

One final thing I can think of as far as Ouma’s speech tics go is that his laugh in Japanese is romanized as “nishishi” instead of “neeheehee,” as this is closer to the Japanese onomatopoeia for the sound horses make--but I actually don’t mind this localization change at all! “Neeheehee” definitely looks a lot closer to the word “neigh” and helps capture that horse joke in a way that I feel like western players can more easily understand.

All in all, while I still definitely feel people can like and enjoy Ouma’s character from playing the localization alone, I still stand by my opinion that listening to the original Japanese voices helps give a much better picture of how the character was intended to come across, and really shows how much depth Hiro Shimono put into his performance. He’s quoted in the official ndrv3 artbook as saying that he believes Ouma is someone who’s actually “really meek if you take away his strong wish to outwit everyone” (credit to @kaibutsushidousha for the art book translation), and I think this interpretation of Ouma really shows through in so many of his lines.

Thank you both for the really fun questions! I hope I could provide some more interesting information about Ouma and the translation!

#danganronpa #kokichi ouma #ouma kokichi #new danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #ndrv3 spoilers //#ask #my meta

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iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid · 3 years

Text

remember when i said i was gonna write a "hawks gets stuck in a time loop" fic? well i'm like 99% sure i'm never gonna finish it, but i really liked this particular scene so here y'all go

platonic endhawks, mention of not-so-platonic dabihawks, mention of typical time loop angst, 1500 words of just the most self-indulgent h/c i've ever written. i go apeshit for mid-redemption-arc father figure endeavor, if you can't tell

To say what Hawks is expecting after his outburst wouldn’t really be accurate, since he’s not really thinking clearly enough to expect anything at all.

Honestly, he doesn’t give two shits. What does it matter? What does it matter if he just says screw it and blows up every relationship he has? What does it matter if Endeavor now thinks he’s lost every last shred of his sanity—and fuck it, maybe he has—if all of this is just gonna reset in a few days’ time?

At this point, what the fuck does it matter?

He’s still gonna have to have to watch Endeavor die over and over and over again. Same with Dabi. Same with who knows how many others. Rumi. Jeanist. Twice. Tsukuyomi. Shouto, and the rest of Endeavor’s kids. No matter what he does, this still ends with people he cares about in the ground. A knife in the back. A gaping scorched hole where vital organs should be. A whole body—a whole person, drained of all its blood or reduced to nothing but a pile of ashes.

He’s too busy thinking about how long he’s gonna be stuck watching this horror show over and over and over again to even begin to think straight. He’s exhausted. He’s done. Or, you know, he would be done. If he had that option.

So no, he’s not expecting anything.

But if he had been expecting anything, it sure as hell wouldn’t have been this: Endeavor, carefully and silently stepping up to where Hawks is sitting, leaning back against the opposite wall, and then sliding down until he’s sitting, too. The space is narrow; Endeavor’s boots are nearly touching the wall to Hawks’ right, until he pulls his knees up.

Then, calmly, so fucking bizarrely calmly, he asks, “How many times?”

Hawks blinks.

“I— what?”

“How many times have you…” Endeavor starts to say, then makes a vague gesture with one hand that might be meant to indicate the time loop, “… been through all this?”

Hawks stares at him for longer than is probably strictly reasonable, but, well, sue him. The question isn’t reasonable. It doesn’t make any sense, not unless—

“You believe me.”

Endeavor nods.

“You…” Hawks gulps. “You don’t think I’m insane.”

Because that’s— well, that’s insane.

“You’re a lot of things, Hawks, but insane isn’t one of them,” Endeavor says, and there’s nothing but open frankness on his face. “How many times?”

The lump in his throat swells a bit. Hawks swallows it down.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I lost count.”

“So guess.”

Hawks huffs. “I— I don’t know. Fifty? Sixty?”

“Jesus.” Endeavor tips his head back against the wall, evidently letting that answer settle while he thinks. Then he says, “Alright. Catch me up, then. Where are you when it resets? How far back does it take you?”

“I— I don’t—” Hawks stammers then shakes his head. “What do you mean, how far back—? Catch you up? Endeavor, how the hell are you so calm about this? Why do you—? Why do you believe me?”

Endeavor frowns at him, and at least that’s something that makes sense, at least now he’s sort of looking at Hawks like he’s almost as insane as he sounds.

“Hawks,” he says, again so goddamn calm. “Why would I not believe you?”

“Because this is insane!”

“Yes, but so are a lot of things we deal with on a daily basis,” Endeavor reminds him. “This could be the work of someone with a strange Quirk we’ve never heard of. It’s not so insane that it’s impossible.”

He says that so casually, just posits a perfectly reasonable explanation to the thing that’s been torturing Hawks for fucking months, that for a second he thinks he might faint. Right here and right now.

Endeavor’s frown shifts, a crease deepening between his brows, and he asks, “Do I usually not believe you when you tell me?”

Hawks opens his mouth, then shuts it.

That is somehow all it takes for Endeavor to come to the right conclusion.

“This is… the first time you’ve told me,” Endeavor says, nodding to himself. “Well. I suppose that explains a lot. Even if it is mind-blowingly short sighted. But— Hawks, is this the first time you’ve told anyone? At all?”

Again, Hawks’ lack of an answer is all the answer he needs.

Endeavor sighs, and it’s a world-weary sort of sigh, an I-can’t-believe-this sort of sigh that suddenly makes Hawks feel very, very, very young. Like a useless little fucking kid, lost and scared and clutching a raggedy old plushie to his chest. Endeavor—the real Endeavor, the real deal, his coworker, his somewhat too human hero, the horribly shitty father to a guy he may or may not be in love with, and his friend somehow in spite of all of it—tilts his head to the side and massages his forehead for a second, and then he asks, “You’ve been through this, what? Fifty, sixty times? And it never once occurred to you, in all this time, to ask someone for help?”

He drops his hand and levels Hawks with an annoyed stare.

Hawks gulps down the lump in his throat, again, which doesn’t do much to steady his voice or hide how close he is to breaking down, again, but he manages to croak, “I’m, uh… I’m not too good at that, big guy. Never have been.”

Endeavor looks at him for a second, and then he nods. “Alright. Well, since you refuse to ask, I’m offering it anyway. What can I do to help?”

What can he—?

Hawks gulps for the third time. He thinks of— what was it, forty loops ago, or thirty-something, the first loop where he’d lost Endeavor, the first time Hawks had to watch him get burned down to smoldering bits of bone. He’d been trying to protect Hawks that time, planting his comparably more fireproof body between Hawks and Dabi, only to vastly underestimate exactly how hot Dabi’s flames could get. And then a few loops after that, when Hawks fucked up the timestream and Toga somehow got to Endeavor first, and he’d long since gone cold by the time Hawks found him. And then there’s the time that Hawks can barely stand remembering at all, the time Dabi managed to burn the whole Todoroki home down to cinders with Natsuo and Fuyumi and Rei inside, the time when all the fight seemed to drain right out of Endeavor, when Dabi had said, ah, come on, old man, you’re sucking all the fun out of this, at least fight back, before—

“Um,” Hawks says, squeezing his eyes shut and shoving the thought as far to the back of his mind as it’ll go. He’s shaking, and it’s annoying, because he can’t get it to stop.

What can I do to help?

“I— Can I, uh… Can I just—?” Hawks asks, pointing toward the spot on the wall opposite himself, right beside where Endeavor’s sitting.

Endeavor raises an eyebrow before his meaning seems to catch on, and then, without a word, he gestures with a tilt of his head, indicating the same spot. Hawks scrambles up, tucking his wings in close as he spins around and plants himself side-by-side with Endeavor instead. His right wing extends out as far as it needs to, while the left curls up, cramped between his back and Endeavor’s ribs as Hawks hunches forward and wraps his arms around his knees. The heat of Endeavor’s Quirk, even powered down as it is, tingles through his feathers. Because he’s alive. Alive and not burnt to ash, alive and not drained to empty, alive and not willingly and brokenly stepping right into death.

And then Endeavor lifts his arm up, and something about the warm weight of his arm falling over Hawks’ shoulders just— It fucking cracks something in half somewhere in the middle of his chest. He ducks his head down against his knees and tangles a hand in his hair, trying and failing to stop the hiccupping sob that shakes its way through him, and Endeavor…

Endeavor, shockingly, doesn’t tell him to pull it together. He doesn’t tell him that heroes are supposed to be, like, unbreakable symbols or pillars of strength or whatever the hell other kind of bullshit Hawks might have expected from him.

Instead, as Hawks wriggles his left wing out so it curls around Endeavor’s back, Endeavor sighs for maybe the millionth time, and he tightens his arm around Hawks’ shoulders, and he drops his chin on top of Hawks’ head, and he moves his hand slowly up and down Hawks’ upper arm. That’s it. Not a hug, not exactly, but something close to it, while Hawks maybe breaks down a little bit, and while he lets himself believe, for at least a few seconds, that he’s actually safe from all this, that as long as he’s under the arm of the Number One Hero then there’s not a force on Earth that can touch him. Not the League, not the Commission, not whatever godawful shit’s been throwing him back through these time loops over and over and over again. Not a single fucking thing.

“It’s alright,” Endeavor says, his voice reverberating through Hawks’ bones. Like it’s that simple. “It’s alright. We’ll figure this out.”

And, for at least a few seconds, Hawks lets himself believes that, too.

#uh. do i tag this as endhawks? probably not right? i never know how to specify the & vs / when it's a portmandeau #endeavor #hawks #enji todoroki #bnha #if i ever do finish this then whatever you guys got a preview lol #but i gotta be honest the odds are. quite slim given that i don't have a beginning or an end #or even much of a middle lmao #OH WAIT #manga spoilers #hoo buddy i always forget to tag that for the whole dabi thing

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equalseleventhirds · 3 years

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i said i wouldn't write it but i did

vaguely a sequel to this, but far in the future and focused on jon (annabelle features briefly tho. she's fine. annabelle will always be fine in my fics.) with ofc the presupposition that they've failed in one world but kept trying, bcos i think that would be fun*!

*(by which i mean heartbreaking, i'm so sorry)

There are rules, to the traveling, or at least there seem to be. There are certainly questions to be asked and points to be made, about how many instances count as a definitive rule rather than simply a pattern. But Jon likes to think of them as rules. He's always preferred concrete answers, even if it turns out they're less the truth and more just a convenient way of conceptualizing things.

So he has rules.

First: the Fears always come through on the same day. October 18, 2018. Or, given the impact history has on calendars, the equivalent of it; he'd once spent months trying to correlate the forty-third moon of cycle 1852 with his calendar just to prove his point, but the math had all worked out.

(Which does indicate, at least to Jon, that yes, the Fears probably did originate in his home world, Georgie. He'll take his petty wins where he can get them. For as long as he can remember the discussion, and the people, he's proving wrong.)

Second, it is still his tapes that the Fears follow. For every apocalypse there has been a new catalyst, but none of these new rituals supersede his. Maybe it's a testament to the strength of the Web's original plan, or maybe it's just something about Jon himself. He knows what he thinks, but... well, there isn't enough proof just yet.

Third, in spite of endless attempts to trap them and stop them, Jon is always able to travel with the Fears. Perhaps they simply can't stop him, as the original antichrist he apparently is; dozens of apocalypses in dozens of different universes, and Jon can always feel his rightful place as ruler of that terrible fearscape calling to him. He hasn't taken it yet, but it's there, and the Eye cannot abandon its true pupil without his permission.

Or perhaps they simply don't care. Every attempt so far has led to the exact same result, after all: another world left behind, another death by starvation averted, another new feast for the Fears to sink their teeth into.

Fourth, he always passes out upon entering a new world.

It's kind of annoying.

---

It is slightly unusual for him to wake up warm, comfortable, and covered in a blanket, but Jon's not about to complain. It's nice. He doesn't get a lot of comfort, and he likes sleeping in a bed, especially since he's always eldritch-nightmare-free in a new world. For a limited time only, of course.

He's fairly certain he's inside; aside from the softness underneath and around him, the air is still and temperate, the light through his eyelids is artificial, and all he can hear is the faint whirring of appliances and the whispers of two muted voices.

"—complete stranger, definitely dangerous, looks like he's from hell—"

"Okay, fine, but I wasn't going to leave him, and anyway haven't you noticed he's a bit—"

"A bit what? Scarred? Bloodstained? Glowing eyes, because I don't think I need to remind you, Martin, his eyes were absolutely glowing when you found him—"

Martin. Now there's a name. Not an uncommon one, but... he thinks he knows that voice.

Or. Well. He might know both of those voices, actually, which is even more interesting than waking up in a bed.

Jon opens his eyes.

He's met himself before, is the thing. Not in every world, and not always particularly recognizable, but he's met himself. He's met versions of Martin, too, and eventually stopped going completely useless with heartbreak every time. The merest handful of times, he's found both of them in the same world, sometimes something almost like friends, but usually not.

The fact that they have their arms around each other, casual, comfortable, close, is both entirely unexpected and perfectly, wonderfully, terribly familiar. Jon briefly considers crying about it, but there are more important things to be doing. For example.

"The glowing eyes aren't actually that sinister. I mean, they are, but not for the reasons you're probably thinking."

Jon—the other Jon—jumps at the sound of his voice, then leans forward. Curiosity, of course; that hardly ever seems to change. "You—the glowing—who are you?"

"Jon," this new version of Martin scolds, and for just a moment he's back home, with his Martin, with that exasperated tone—but no, this isn't his Martin, and he's also leaning forward now, his voice turning gentle. Concerned. Coaxing, like he's a spooked animal, and Jon doesn't think his Martin has ever talked to him that way. "How are you feeling? We found you unconscious in the street."

He can feel Martin's curiosity too, pushing forward under his concern, just as questioning as Jon but too polite to outright say it yet. He has to cut this off, or he really will cry.

"Mm... no," he says. "Well, yes. But also." Good lord, he's confusing them. Par for the course, but he should probably try to be somewhat comprehensible.

He holds up a hand, extending one finger. "I am... fine. More or less. Trust me, I'm used to this, and this isn't even the worst way it's happened." Another finger joins the first. "My name, as I believe Martin has guessed but then dismissed, is Jonathan Sims. I am not you from the future, nor am I lying, nor am I crazy, because—" a third finger "—interdimensional travel is not only possible, it has happened, is happening, because of and along with terrible monstrosities I am determined to stop, and I have explained this too many times to too many people to have much patience for anyone being shocked and disbelieving, much less a version of myself doing so, so you can either get over it and move on or I can go elsewhere and do something useful."

"Excuse—"

"And," he continues, pushing himself up so he can sit and lean forward even more intensely than his counterpart, "I would actually rather not do that just yet, because I have an extremely pressing question for the two of you."

"Um," Martin says, and "What," says the other Jon.

"How," Jon asks, deepening his voice to exude solemn, ominous, and eldritchly important, "did you two start dating?"

---

It was so... normal. Apparently. Two people, mutual friends, a chance encounter. A prickly exterior ("He hated me," both of them had claimed), but without the insecurity of being Head Archivist and the fear of dread powers beyond his comprehension, their friends had helped him open up and—eventually—apologise. A budding friendship, and then a romance, and then...

It isn't a version of them Jon has seen anywhere else, in any of the worlds he's traveled to. Normal as it is, it's a highly improbably scenario, and certainly not the same as his relationship with his Martin had been. But it was, in an infinite number of worlds, still a possibility.

Jon isn't quite sure how he feels about that, knowing that some version of them could have fallen in love without the trauma, but that they hadn't managed it.

His hands aren't shaking, as he lights his cigarette. At least there's that.

"I quit, you know," his counterpart says from behind him. "Years ago. I'd forgotten about those until you asked."

"Well then, thank you for indulging me." He gestures, meaning the cigarette, meaning the bed, meaning his claims about reality, meaning his intrusive, gossipy questioning. Meaning everything. He's not sure it gets across.

The other Jon laughs, quietly, and moves to stand next to him. "I am my worst enabler."

"Oh, that's hardly true."

"Mm." They're silent together for a while, but Jon is restless (both of him), and eventually this reality's version opens his mouth to ask. "Do you—do you know why I—I don't want to say believed you, I'm still not sure I do, b-but, didn't throw you out immediately?"

"My myriad charms?" They both laugh at that.

"Jonathan Sims," he says, as if that explains anything.

Jon takes a drag of his cigarette, considering. He could probably Know, but... indulging himself. "What about me?"

"No, not you, or. You know. You. But your name. Jonathan Sims. I decided you weren't, weren't a deliberate lie to trick me, or a future version of myself, or a mind-reading monster—"

"Well—"

"—when you said your name, because none of those things would have said that." He smiles then and holds up a hand, and—oh—his ring glints. "I've been Jonathan Blackwood for a while now."

They'd told him married eventually, but he hadn't even thought about his name. He's certainly thinking about it now. "Jonathan Blackwood," he says, soft, to himself. And to himself. "That... that sounds good."

"It does, doesn't it."

Whatever they might have said next is lost as an incredibly loud engine roars nearby and a sleek black motorcycle pulls up in front of them. Jon sighs and takes one last drag of his cigarette as the rider removes her helmet.

"Been off finding yourself, then, Jon?" Annabelle asks.

"Oh, extremely funny, yes. Did you steal that?"

"It was a gift."

"Of course it was."

The other Jon is staring at them both, his eyes repeatedly drifting back to the web-covered hole in Annabelle's head. "Who—what is—is that a—"

"She's a spider monster," Jon supplies helpfully. "She came with me, although apparently she did not pass out in the street this time."

"Two streets over, I think. Pity, I would've loved a nice nap in a proper bed, but I did get this motorcycle out of it. Come on, Jon, you can mope on the way."

"I have not been moping—"

"Haven't you? You're not the one who deals with how maudlin you get every time you meet yourself—"

"Yes, fine, thank you, we can go." He stubs out the cigarette and pauses, looking at himself. "Uh. Tell Martin—well, goodbye, I guess. I'd say I hope we meet again, but if you're lucky we won't need to?"

"...sure."

"And I'm—I hope you—that is, I'll do my best—well." He sighs. "Things are about to get... dicey, for the world in general. But just, look out for each other, and we'll try to handle the rest."

"Jon, we should be going."

"Yes, all right, all right." He gives himself one last, probably not very reassuring smile, and climbs on behind Annabelle.

They do have work to do, after all.

#fanfiction #algie writes things #many thoughts head full...........#i am so many theorizing. u kno how it is.#uhhhh so the TINIEST spoilers for the most recent episode? idk #tma spoilers #once again just TINY ones not actually plot ones #at least not that we didn't already get from annabelle's big explanation episode #jm #but also it's complicated #u kno #jon has bittersweet conversations & thoughts and annabelle gets a motorcycle #it's what each of them needs i think

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thebmatt · 3 years

Text

FFXIV Write Day 3

Scale– each of the small, thin horny or bony plates protecting the skin of fish and reptiles, typically overlapping one another. - OR - an instrument for weighing, originally a simple balance ( a pair of scales ) but now usually a device with an electronic or other internal weighing mechanism.

(yes there's other definitions, these two are what's relevant for my response)

It was a somewhat chilly morning in the Azim Steppe as Dahkar Darkspear, Warrior of LIght and kahn of the Azim Steppe, strode through Dotharl Khaa, striding in the direction of the khatun's tent. Hushed whispers seemed to follow him, as every Dotharl Xaela in the settlement could not stop watching him or speaking quietly to each other.

It made little sense to Dahkar. He was a Xaela himself and a regular fixture in the settlement at least once a week. He made sure to check in with all of the major leaders of the Steppe regularly to hear news, arbitrate disputes, and otherwise do whatever he could to ensure the people of the Steppe were mostly doing well.

Well, almost all of the leaders. He ignored Magnai and Daidukul on principle. Esugen, the Oronir's culinarian he'd helped a few times, made sure he was always in Reunion when he knew the khan would be arriving so he could pass on information about the Oronir and the Buduga.

He was a day early in this instance, so perhaps that was the reason behind the whispers. He put it from his mind as he approached the woman standing in front of the khatun's home.

Shar smiled and nodded to him. "Welcome, khan. You're early this week."

He smiled back to her. "That I am, Shar. How's your son doing?"

"He's growing well. The khatun does not yet know who is behind his eyes, but it has been but only a couple of moons. She is confident the soul within will reveal themself soon enough. I'm very excited to re-meet whoever it is!"

"I look forward to the day I can meet them. Is Sadu within? I have some...well let's just say an interesting proposal for her"

Shar smirked at him. "Oh, really now? Very bold of you, khan. Very Dotharl. I hope you're ready for a long fight. When my husband proposed to me, we fought for 10 bells straight!"

A look of shock crossed Dahkar's face, descending into horror. "What? No! Not that kind of-!"

She began laughing, loud and from her belly. "HA! Aahahaha! Oh, khan, the look on your face! Priceless!" In between fits of giggling, she opened the tent's flaps to admit him.

"Pretty sure there's rules against sassing your khan" he muttered to her as he walked past her, into the tent. "And if not, I'm gonna make some." This did nothing to stop her laughter.

The tent's sole occupant, a beautiful white-haired Xaelan woman dressed in her people's blue attire with a horned darkwood staff, turned to him. She smirked at him. Dahkar had often witnessed that smirk directed at him, but it was only now that he noticed Shar had given him a very similar one. Clearly she'd been taking lessons.

"Well, well, our glorious khan graces us with-". She suddently stopped and looked at him, frowning. "What in all the hells are you wearing?" she asked, incredulously.

Dahkar looked down at his attire, a style he'd seen many on the Steppe wearing during his first two trips there. He'd made sure to acquire some before departing that second time, aetherically aligned towards boosting magicks. "What? It's hardly unusual. Hells, I saw many of the Dotharl wearing very similar garb on my way in. Granted, this is white in color, but I didn't want everyone to assume I'd joined the Dotharl or-"

"No no, the garb is fine. But...I have never seen you wear anything other than that heavy black armor you favor. Or carry any weapon other than those slabs of metal you refer to as swords. Now you wear this? And is that the weapon of a conjurer on your back?"

Ah. That explained the stares and the whispers. "Yes, it is." He removed the cane from his back. The white crystal embedded in its head began to glow, a series of green-yellow energy lines shimmering around the head of leaf-covered branches. "Before I ever took up the sword of the Dark Knight, I was a conjurer. Pretty good one, in fact. So good they actually decided to let me train as a White Mage, which...well, you probably aren't aware of what those are or why it's a big deal. Suffice to say, I'm damn powerful with conjury."

"Hmmph", she signed, annoyed. "And what, you just decided that one day, it didn't work for you and took up a giant sword, instead?"

"Not quite that simple, but that's not far off the mark. Bad things happened to me and I changed in response to them in part by taking up the art of the Dark Knight." He shrugged and slung the cane over his back again.

"Oh yes, our glorious khan knows all about change! You and that Doman. First you win the Naadam, as foreigners no less, then you rope us into this alliance of yours and persuade us to fight those men of metal and machines!" Sadu threw up her hands and turned her back to him. "Tell me, khan, what change will you bring next?"

Dahkar sighed. It was an argument he'd heard from her, and others, many a time. "Are we really doing this every time, Sadu? You know there's no rules against foreigners entering Bardam's Mettle, nor against competing in the Naadam. You agreed to help Hien and I fight the Garleans. Multiple times. You even told me you enjoyed the battle to liberate Ala Mhigo! You aren't actually angry about any of this, because you know what i know. Change is inevitable, stagnation equals decay."

She turns, smiling at him again. There's still mockery in her smile, but not as much this time. "Hrmph. Fine, you are correct. I suppose I just wanted to throw you off balance. As usual, you are hard to break. So what brings you to us a day early? It's too early in the day for you to have gone anywhere else first, so I assume this is important."

Dahkar smiled. "That it is. I want to talk with you about the future of the Steppe, and of the Dotharl, specifically."

Sadu's narrowed and her smile turned downward. She crossed her arms. "Speak. I suspect I will not like this, but you have earned the right, many times over, so I will hear you."

"It's simple, really. Many of the other Xaela fear the Dotharl. They see you as merciless raiders who seek only to deal death to them, who lust only for battle and killing. I would have you change that perception."

"And just how would you have me do that? Moreover, why would I even WANT to? The Dotharl live for battle. How many times have you heard me say it, khan? 'In battle do our souls burn bright, and in death do they sing'. Those are not empty words, they define us."

Dahkar smiled. "I'm well aware. I'm also aware that you very much realize that your way of life is not sustainable to the Dotharl's continued existence. You admitted as much to us, Gosetsu and I, that day we first met." Sadu turned her face away from him, eyes downward. "Hrmph. So I did. What of it? We have endured thus far. I will not compromise our way of life, khan"

"I'm not asking you to. What I propose is not a change to it, but a direction for it. I would have the Dotharl become protectors of the Steppe."

She turned to him again, her face a mixture of shock and rage. "...Protectors?? Have you heard a word I've said?" Dahkar raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Wait, just hear me out. It's not as radical as it seems, and it will solve your biggest problem of numbers in the long run."

Sadu resumed crossing her arms, glaring daggers at him. "...fine."

"Very well. First of all, I ask you what exactly the Dotharl gain in making war on weaker tribes? You yourself told me that only in great battle does the soul burn brightly, so what does it gain your warriors to slaughter those of lesser skill in battle than you? Seems unworthy of you. Turning that strength on the marauders who engage in such unworthy predation? That seems like a far better chance for a real battle. Not to mention the Steppe is crawling with monsters and vicious animals of various types. They may pose no threat to most tribes, certainly, but there are those to whom a monster attack is a death sentence. You can protect them and test your strength and bravery at the same time."

"If memory serves, you told me that it was in a monster attack that your own tribe was slaughtered. Purbols, I believe. I can't help but wonder if this is why you ask this of me."

"Which leads me to the second benefit this would bring to you. What do you suspect would have happened had the Dotharl come to our aid?"

"I imagine you would have been grateful, which is hardly worth anything to us."

"Gratitude is a long-term investment, Sadu. Think on it. If I'd been raised on tales of the tribe of warriors that saved us from vicious monsters, that fought back against other marauding tribes that kidnapped people like the Buduga? There's a very good chance that I would have bid farewell to my tribe and joined you all the day I came of age."

A single eyebrow raised. "You would have?"

"Very likely. I became an adventurer because it seemed like the easiest way to earn a living helping people and making things better. If my tribe hadn't been killed and my mother fled the Steppe? I doubt I'd be so different as to not want to do the same, still. Joining the Dotharl, becoming an undying one, born again and again to fight to save people, to help them? Well, it would have been extremely appealing to me. And I doubt I'm the only one, too. In time, I believe this swell your numbers significantly. Furthermore, when the Naadam comes around again, all those tribes you helped? Seems to me like they'd be more willing to help you as allies. In time, this will tip the scales in the Dotharl's favor and you'll reliably have more than enough numbers to rout the Oronir without question. Frankly, I would rest easier knowing the Steppe was in your hands rather than Magnai's. So long as you don't intend to break your word to the rest of the Othard Alliance, that is. I'll kick BOTH of your asses for as long as I have to, if that's your intent."

She smirks viciously again. "Is that a challenge, khan?"

All mirth or joy fades from Dahkar. "No, Sadu, it's a promise. I have fought through some hellish things these past few moons, and I know that the worst of it is yet to come, and it's going to affect the entire world when it does. I take it you've heard about that large metallic tower that suddenly appeared off the southern coast of Yanxia? They're all over the world, and they're part of it. The Steppe is going to get caught up in this whether the people want to be or not, and I would rather my people fight what's coming together with all of the Alliance than risk being slaughtered and their culture gone. So yes, if I have to fight you to preserve that, I will. But I'd rather see to it that the Dotharl are in a place to help preserve it and maybe even guide it to a better future without leaving tradition behind entirely."

Shock appeared on Sadu's face. "....very well, I'll admit your suggestion has merit. I will not give you an answer now, however. I will need time to think on this, discuss it with the others."

"I expected no less."

"And I demand another battle with you as payment for even entertaining your presence!"

Dahkar rolled his eyes. "I expected that would be the case as well. You DO know that we're going to be interrupted, right? Magnai and Daidukul and whatever others he decides to bring with him are going to show up and whine about us not asking his permission or something along those lines."

Sadu's vicious smirk was on her face again. "I am counting on it!"

"You don't actually want to fight me at all. You want to fight at my side."

"More than one way for our souls to burn bright, khan."

#FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Dahkar Darkspear #Final Fantasy XIV

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monkey-network · 3 years

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Why Shrek IS The Best

Tastes can change, you know? And it’s less about “What’s good about this now compared to before”, more of “Why would you like this now as opposed to before”? Unless allergic, you didn’t get why dark cola or hot chips tasted bad to you as a child, but when you grow up you can come to understand and appreciate it. Shouldn’t pressure yourself, that makes things worse, but things can certainly align in helping this newfound respect you get for something you’d believe you would never want again. That really is where I stand with Dreamworks’ Shrek. As a kid, while Toy Story left me traumatized for a while, Shrek left me side-eyeing with how crass and ugly it looked and I never wanted to think of it. But, as I grew up to respect animation a lot more, 2018 was where I looked back at Shrek and soon come to understand how wrong I was and how much greatness it has that I now consider it an all time great. And with it getting inducted into the Library of Congress, I thought it was finally time to present what I see in this film. Let’s do this right with...

The SOMEBODY

Now this frame has been meme’d to death. If there’s anything iconic about this film, ‘bout the franchise as a whole, it’s the exact moment when our main character charges out of his outhouse as Smash Mouth’s ‘All Star’ gets going. But this honestly just says a lot about Dreamworks’ direction from its previous films where compared to Disney that’ll take their time making the setup before getting into the hype point for its lead, Shrek gets going in one minute if we don’t count the logo intro. Not even The Emperor’s New Groove, which was going for the same tone before Shrek even released, took more of it’s time with the fairy tale aspect of it in its intro. Shrek literally wipes his ass with the fairy tale aspect before giving us the SOMEBODY, all around a minute. This frame really shows that this is sticking to the Disney formula in some way because it’s wasting no time getting into it. It represents the more brisk pace Shrek has with pulling you into what it’s gonna be about. This overall frame works in its thematic and parody aspect and I’ve yet to see anything top this exact moment, not even the greatest films I’ll ever remember.

But enough about the fact that I made a whole paragraph about this one frame of the movie. Let’s dive into what I say is a piece of the heart for this film.

The Earnestness

Speaking of Disney, you probably notice that their films have some cushioning in their presentation, like they generally don’t show things with a straightforward lens; there’s some theatrics in the way their best movies present themselves. That’s not a problem, mind you, but that helped me understand how Shrek does things very differently whether you consider it parody or not. While it throws mockery at the played out conventions associated with fairy tales, especially its most subtle jab at copyright, it doesn’t full on say fairy tales are annoying and bad. Hell, the film IS a fairy tale adapted from a fairy tale about a fookin’ OGRE that can eat lightning and kills with farts. But, it’s an accurate and earnest way to view a fairy tale from a somewhat realistic lens. Let’s take Shrek’s journey for instance.

Typically, the main character would want to experience something more; explore new horizons, prove themselves, find their calling. Shrek off the bat doesn’t need or desire any of that. He’s content with his life, beside the angry mob he casually scares off, and throughout the film he’s not interested in anything else outside getting the squatters out his swamp. He happily makes a deal with the villain of the film to exile those innocent refugees off his land so he could then build a wall to keep everybody out. Bringing up Emperor’s New Groove again, Shrek and Kuzco are the few characters I know that are actively antagonistic even when they’re forced into their situation from outside forces. However unlike Kuzco that gets to be emperor again but learns humility, Shrek is in the same spot as before but learns that there are people out here that can love him for who he is. I can’t say there’s anything grand about that, but it doesn’t need to be unlike the many Disney or any film that tries to shower you with the grandest themes. The relationships Shrek has with Donkey and Fiona are the most grounded I’ve ever seen because they’re not only natural, they’re hardly dolled up with the bells and whistles made to either drum up the biggest laughs or tug the heart strings viciously. When I think about it, I honestly could see myself in Shrek. He isn’t made to be a legend, he isn’t some secret genius or lost prince, he’s just an every-man ogre that wants to live peacefully or meet SOMEBODY that doesn’t treat as someone to be feared or disgusted at. Everything Shrek says is something anybody could or would say if they were his shoes because he, and the film in general, is the most grounded without making it all distractedly meta or genre-savvy. This is generally helped by...

The Dounkaey

Everyone’s talked about how Donkey is the best confidant for Shrek and Fiona. How he’s most true to himself to where he’s the most openly musical character in the film, and how he’s the most balanced here with his comedic vs serious moments. But I gotta say it too: Donkey is one of the greatest sidekicks ever. He’s a motormouth, but is never annoying to where you wish he left the film. The couple times he is purposefully annoying, not for a joke, is when he knows Shrek isn’t being truthful. He truly gets to know Shrek on this journey, and is the character Shrek gets to capacity to actually loosen up to, so it’s fitting that he’d be the one to push Shrek when the ogre’s sounding more vague than usual. Even when he’s harshly insulted, Donkey doesn’t take it as bad as when Shrek kept trying to shut him out again in the 3rd act after the Hallejulah sequence which is the scene in every Shrek movie where’s there a super sad song because Shrek is alone and yadda ya. I’ll get to it in a bit, but he is as much responsible in providing Fiona that seed of doubt that Shrek wouldn’t love her as the ogre she is. Donkey is the greatest friend because he wants to be there for those who are okay with him being around, and while you could give and take sidekick animals in your notable films with them in it, this film really wouldn’t have happened without him. Speaking of Fiona, I won’t retread what’s been said before like with Donkey but I did want to bring up something I haven’t seen many talk about,,,

The Love for An Ogre

I’ve seen many say the scene where Shrek overhears Fiona talk about “Who could love an ugly beast?” and misinterprets that as her talking about him as a cliched or contrived downside to the film, but I feel that a defense can be made. It personally makes sense that Shrek would misinterpret that and take it personally because 1) Who else would Fiona be talking about? 2) How would he know she was talking with Donkey? 3) Why would he just barge in on her? 4) Has no one considered that this moment is parallel to when Fiona overhears Shrek’s conversation with Donkey the night before?

Fiona is very much the antithesis to Shrek’s character where she can very much be open about what she wants but is scared at the idea of anyone figuring out who she really is. She’ll gladly be gross, kick ass, eat the young of a bird she let explode, but won’t let anyone see her true face. That’s why her curse makes sense, and why Shrek would take a fondness to her despite her initial disdain of him rescuing her. Fiona’s a character where the surface level beauty is her weakness as opposed to Shrek where it’s internal. Which is why when she overhears Shrek open up to Donkey about his societal isolation, she’s soon more comfortable around him. And it’s why when she opens up to Donkey about her looks, Shrek would unfortunately take it personal enough. I ask again, why would Shrek barge in on a conversation he wasn’t aware of or who she was talking about to not take it about anything else but him when what he heard such a cut so deep, especially from a character that bears his similar issues? It also helps that Donkey was in on it, as Shrek feels reasonably betrayed by the only other person he’s come to appreciate in his life. Contrived as it seems, it’s thematically important and appropriate to the conflict of Shrek’s character and the film overall. Don’t know how this could be conveyed any other way because it adds up at least.

I just wanna know how Shrek got to Faarquard’s and back by sunrise like did he run cuz that looked like a huge distance to travel on foot but anyways...

I’m sure things could’ve worked out if Shrek knew, either by barging in that night or through Donkey, but I think it’s fitting that the climax takes place at the wedding. After Shrek and Donkey understand their friendship, after Donkey reciprocates the Dragon’s love (more ways than one), and when Shrek grasps the mistake he made to charge over to Fuccquad’s chapel, we get to...

The End

After everything, we get to the moment where Shrek and Fiona get to share their first kiss, Fiona permanently transforms into an ogre, and we get this exchange. One of my favorite exchanges in the whole film:

Shrek: “Are you all right?” Fiona: “Well yes. But I don’t understand... I’m supposed to be beautiful.”

Shrek: “But you ARE beautiful”

We don’t need any other vows to understand their relationship was built up to this. This moment where Shrek can reaffirm Fiona’s feelings of being able to be herself in every way, because she allowed him to be himself in every way before. That’s that mutual love, baby, that just gets me every time and makes this film one of the best romance stories I know as well, even when it isn’t solely about the romance. This is Shrek’s story, and there’s nothing more touching than seeing this outcast not only get another to view him as a friend, not only someone to love, but people, if only a couple, to actually wanted to get to know him. I know Shrek 2 expands on this more, and it’s considered a golden sequel, but I will always cherish the first movie for how much it tells us off the bat while appearing as a “Take That” to Disney films. This is the genesis of Shrek feeling more accepted for himself and society and it just bears so much good commentary while being a good adventure nonetheless. Like you could say this film indeed has... dimensions? “You were trying to meme about la-”

The Conclusion

Mentioning it, I always had this thought with the conversation Shrek and Donkey had of why Shrek didn’t just “be an ogre” and pillage Fuccnut’s fortress. It’s possible Shrek could’ve taken out Faarquid himself, but that would mean being the beast he knows people have shunned him for, grabbed the torches and pitchfolks for, made him feel worse for. Shrek enjoys being an ogre, but he doesn’t like how society makes him feel lesser as an ogre. That really is what the four films have been about for him and what I’ve come to appreciate about these films personally. It can be easy to love yourself even when there are others out here that stand against you, but it’s hard to consider that anyone else could love you for who you are in spite of how you try to present yourself. But if there’s anything Shrek showed me, it’s that it’s possible. There can/will be people out here who appreciate the real you, will be there as much as you want to for them, and can help you realize more about yourself as opposed to suffering to silence eternally. Generally ideal, I know, but this film in the least offered me that thought in the most balanced way possible. It’s incredible how much of a tightrope this film has in its parody and sincerity and that makes its induction in the National Film Registry and being the first ever Best Animated Award winner pretty justified all things considered.

I know this film, the character, has been a meme over the years. As Schaffrillas mentions in his video, the direction Dreamworks made because of Shrek’s success kinda turned it into a heel people clowned on because, in theory, it was nothing but a joke with the onions and the swamp and IT’S NEVER OGRE. Then again, like I said in the beginning, tastes change. I’d say with Schaff’s masterful analyses on the film series and 3GI’s Shrek Retold and Shrekfest, the perception of the film sure enough shifted like the perception of Megamind. It’s one thing for a movie to blow people away or leave them thinking it’s horrible beyond belief, it’s another to take the time to then look back and see how those feelings have changed. For Shrek, it’s a film that was able to trudge out of the meme era to be a film many consider a strong, rewatchable, and unique. Like the beauty of Spongebob, Shrek is a considered a classic because as in the times as it appeared when it released, this film actually stood on its own with the most enjoyable and meaningful timelessness, exploring the desired love for the self, that deserves to be recognized. What else can I say, people?

It’s The Best

#Shrek #dreamworks #dreamworks animation #animation #movies #cartoons #reviews #analysis #long post #Good Stuff

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.3}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

Lunch break came and went, and so did the second half of the conference. Robin and Snape continued doing what they had been doing for the most part of the day, quietly criticising the many misconceptions, mistakes and missing pieces of the other people's lectures, but they wouldn't be as tactless as to publicly bring it up in the discussions. All corrections and truths, as well as all snarky comments and crude jokes were kept exclusively between the two of them. The handbook, or rather the immense knowledge that was compiled in it by now, wasn't supposed to become known, especially not around here in these circles, and thus Robin had to refrain from correcting mistakes for the most part anyway. Only when she was asked for her opinion specifically – which actually had become an almost usual occurrence at this point – did she speak up at all. But of course the conference wouldn't have been the same without Kenneth Crowe, nor without his not so subtle attempts to mess with Robin once again.

"May I remark, Miss Mitchell, you haven't commented on my presentation yet, and given your inclination to comment on absolutely everything, that does surprise me now. So please enlighten us, what brilliant conclusion did you come to this time?" He asked her during the discussion to his lecture, his tone so pointedly hostile and sarcastic that a few people frowned at him in confusion. They must've been living under a rock for the last two years if they had missed this growing one-sided rivalry.

"Never give a green cat a flamethrower." Robin replied in perfect neutrality an instant later, looking him dead in the eye from all the way across the room. Admittedly, she had come prepared for such a situation this time around, and that left her feeling a lot more in control of the situation than she had in the previous years. Next to her, Snape raised an eyebrow and tried very hard not to look too amused by what he certainly guessed was coming.

Crowe however openly scoffed at Robin, rolling his eyes in a condescending manner, before crossing his arms over his chest. "Matters certainly get more ridiculous every single year; I won't even honor that statement by questioning it."

"That would be the point." Robin gave him a polite little smile, and multiple people in the room quietly snorted against better judgement. "I'm glad you agree with me on the issue. Some matters simply aren't worth to be commented on."

A few jaws dropped, Crowe's being one of them, but he stayed pointedly quiet in return and instead seemed to ignore Robin entirely from there on. Just what she had wanted. That settled the issue, and the afternoon continued on quietly until the last lecture was over, upon which the crowd assembled in the front for the usual picture to be taken. Unlike last year, Robin didn't have to convince Snape to partake, and they found their place easily just like everyone else did. After that however, Robin was asked to stand for a second photograph all by herself, which obviously was a usual procedure for the people who gave the lectures. She wasn't particularly fond of the idea, but it would've taken more time to argue herself out of it than to get it over with, and thus she simply shook her hair out of the bun it had been in and stood still.

"Smile for me, would you?" The photographer asked, and Robin tried to somewhat smile without looking stupid. But obviously he wouldn't have her not-smile. "No no no, smile with your entire face, like you actually mean it!"

"The others didn't have to smile either." She scoffed, thinking of how all the men before her had been done with the picture within seconds, and without a comment. "So why do I have to? Just because I'm female doesn't make me a dress up doll."

"I'm sure your smile is lovely, sweetheart." He reasoned and gave her a look that annoyed Robin within a second. "They say a woman's smile is the most enchanting thing about her, you know…"

"That is the best you can do? Not very creative, is it?" Snape remarked from just a little off to the side, raising an eyebrow at the photographer, absolutely unimpressed. "I would rather say it's the mind that enchants, but what would you know about that, right?"

Robin couldn't help laughing at the comment, at the sheer sass in it, and even just at the expression on Snape's face. Before she knew, her photo was taken and the grumbling photographer packed up without another word to either of them. Well, at least she was smiling like he'd wanted her to, even if she had looked behind the camera rather than into it.

What followed was the usual: endless smalltalk and conversations, being handed over from one person to the next, and having to tell people as politely as possible that her life wasn't a topic she would give them information on. But unlike last year, Snape stayed by Robin's side the entire time and thereby made the whole procedure a lot more bearable. He obviously didn't have the same reputation here as he did back at Hogwarts, but even without knowing exactly who he was, his height, scowls and generally dark appearance sufficed to keep people at a distance from both of them. For the most part at least.

"So you are the famous Miss Mitchell…" A man perhaps a little older than Snape approached them in a slow saunter in the very moment Robin's previous conversation came to an end. She had noticed how he'd kept throwing glances at her throughout the evening, but only now he actually approached her, in obvious disdain that Snape still refused to leave her side. Perhaps that's why his eyes and focus stayed exclusively on Robin. "A true honour to meet you at last."

"I'm Robin Mitchell, yes." She replied, after not finding a name tag on him anywhere. "But I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Jacob Crowe." He smiled way too brightly, bowing in an exaggerated manner. "You already know my brother Kenneth, unfortunately. But let me assure you that not everyone in our family is quite as ignorant as him."

"Nice to meet you, then." Robin made herself return a polite smile even though his forcefully charming demeanor made her rather want to scowl. At least Snape's hand was still securely resting on her back, had been from the start of these torturous conversations, and she found herself leaning into him the slightest bit more on instinct now. He surely wouldn't mind… just for the duration of this uncomfortable situation.

"I must say, your presentation was quite enchanting." Crowe gave her another look that was probably supposed to be dashing, but only did the very opposite. "A fascinating story of research and intellect, told by the most fascinating woman I have ever seen. Logically, I was clinging onto your every word."

"Yes, that much was obvious." Snape taunted with the inevitable scowl, glowering at Crowe before Robin had to come up with a reply on her own. It was the first and only time he had gotten himself involved in any of Robin's conversations this evening, and good gods he couldn't have picked a better time.

Crowe glared right back at him, making a face that was in no way inferior in its hostility to that of his brother. "And you are…?"

"Tired of hearing you speak when you clearly have nothing to say." Snape replied in a cutting voice that was filled with boredom and disdain alike, and yet he tugged Robin even closer to his side ever so gently. Always the contradiction.

Crowe glared at him for another moment, then turned back to Robin with a still somewhat irritated expression that he however tried to cover up with another smile. "You are a remarkable woman, Robin… It would be a true joy to get to know you, to hear more about your research and life. But then again, you seem to be spoken for already."

"As a matter of fact, I generally only speak for myself." Robin replied calmly, but yet in a tone that made abundantly clear what she thought of his advances. "And I am here to speak about research, not about my personal life."

"There's no harm in combining work and pleasure, my dear." He gave her another almost suggestive grin, obviously misunderstanding her previous statement. "I know for a fact that you are quite exceptional in one, and I would love to find out about the other."

"Good evening, Mister Crowe." She got out more or less politely, then turned on her heels and pulled Snape towards the doors with her. He seemed no less eager to finally leave this place, which made it more of a common hasting than either leading the other really. However before they could get far, another group of three men stepped into their way. They at least acknowledged Snape with a nod before focusing entirely on Robin.

"Miss Mitchell, I was wondering if you could tell us a bit more about the Siazella you found on accident. I have never heard of it before, which should be surprising enough at my age! How on earth did you know what you were dealing with?" The oldest in the group got right to the point, smiling in a curious and friendly manner at least, and Robin still had to suppress a sigh. She just wanted to leave… but that would have to wait. If Dumbledore had already set her up for the lecture, he surely would expect her to answer the professional questions as well. At least these men actually seemed sincerely interested in her research.

For another twenty minutes Robin elaborated on the Siazella and her knowledge of it, careful to leave out her handbook nonetheless, and once she also had answered any follow-up questions, the three men finally wished them a good night and let them be at last. Two heartbeats passed, and then Snape and Robin practically ran out the doors to avoid getting held up another time. Only once they had rushed all the way through the hallways and down the first flight of stairs, they finally slowed down a little, which left Robin both breathless and amused. Somehow, fleeing from the crime scene together had a charme in itself.

"I'm glad it's finally over…" She sighed as they walked down the elaborate staircase that –as everything in the wizarding world, it seemed– was merely lit by an astonishing number of candles. "The day was more annoying than I remembered it to be, and a whole lot more exhausting. I'm glad it's just you and me now."

"I wonder why I ever attended this pathetic event in the first place." Snape grumbled to himself in return, his scowl coloured by the barest hint of a pout. "A room full of idiots who speak nonsense and pride themselves in entirely irrelevant matters. I could have the very same in the Slytherin common room."

Robin let out a snort, which however was followed by an almost affectionate smile. "You attended because of me, I would say."

"So did everyone else, obviously." He drawled, rolling his eyes in complete disdain once more, much like the expression he had given the younger Crowe.

"Are you jealous?" She couldn't help asking in a teasing tone, quirking an eyebrow at him in amusement. Yeah, maybe teasing him when he was annoyed wasn't the best idea.

"Whyever would I be?" He scoffed immediately, a little too immediately, and definitely much too defensively.

"Because unlike back at Hogwarts, I am the one with a reputation here." She grinned in return, choosing to let go of what she had originally been insinuating in favour of a more universal interpretation, then couldn't help laughing at her own thought. "Usually you're Batman and I'm Robin. But here I'm Batman and you're Robin… which you're probably not used to being. But I can assure you that I definitely couldn't have done any of this without you, so perhaps it's not the best analogy."

He rolled his eyes again, but couldn't help the small smirk tugging on his lips. "Poor analogy indeed, especially for you. As far as I remember, you are the heroic type who saved a girl from almost certain death, twice in a row."

"And you are far braver than you give yourself credit for! I mean, you're spending a great deal of time with me, that's gotta take some bravery to go through with willingly." Robin smirked up at him, raising her eyebrows in humour as they made their way through the almost empty entrance hall in complete ignorance of everyone who was still present.

"If I was any kind of brave, I would have cursed all those men up there the second they dared to gawk at you in such a lewdly manner." He said once they were finally out in the dark street again, and his words sent an immediate shiver through Robin. But she also reminded herself that he probably, no, definitely didn't mean it in the way her mind so desperately wanted to believe.

"That wouldn't have been brave but just rash." She replied with a small smile, calm and reassuring, even though her heart was racing. "Take Crowe, for example. He was only sweet-talking me to get information on my personal life. And as much as I wanted to hex him myself, it just would've looked like I have something to hide."

"How can you be so rational about people mistreating you like that?"

"Practice." Robin shrugged with an actually humoured smile. "And I had you with me the entire time; what bad could possibly have happened to me?"

"I feel honoured by that assessment, but still, you take their crude behavior far too lightly."

"I'd rather say you take it too seriously. You said yourself that it's just a room full of idiots and creeps, so why should we waste a thought on them?" She gave him a pointed look to accompany the statement. "It's over now either way, and the only idiot you have to deal with is me."

"Yes, but that is an entirely different matter. You are my idiot."

"I am?" The grin was on her face before she could help it, and his words burned themselves into her memory to haunt her in her mind for all time to come.

"Obviously." He quirked an eyebrow at her in a way that made her grin even more, and only then he allowed himself the tiniest smirk in return. A moment passed in silence before he spoke on. "It is fairly late already, and knowing you, you will most certainly want to look into another theory tomorrow morning."

"We don't have to! I mean, if you'd prefer to… to take a break, we can continue any other time really. If you've got something else to do, I absolutely understand that. I mean it's been two weeks, and I haven't even once asked if I was keeping you from anything, and really it's been quite rude of me to just blindly assume that you would want to waste your entire holidays on me, but since we never really discussed it, you know, I just-..."

"Breathe." He cut in with a still subtly amused expression. "Tomorrow is fine."

"Good…" Robin said and let out a long breath at the same time indeed. Really, if she was exceptionally good at anything, it would have to be rambling. Or overthinking. "Tomorrow morning it is then."

"The cliff?"

"Always lovely meeting there. Eight as always?"

"Very well."

"So… time to say goodnight, I guess."

"Indeed."

And yet, they both remained standing a step apart on the dark sidewalk, looking at each other expectantly while neither wanted to be the first to go. After half a minute, Robin started smiling, then grinning, and finally straight out laughed at the situation and at how silly they both were being. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but it never ceased to amuse her, nor amaze her that he seemed to be as reluctant to part ways as her.

"Coffee?" She finally asked with a soft smile.

"Yes."

… … …

Finding a place to have decent coffee after eleven at night was surprisingly easy in London, but for the sake of being a little more subtle than going to the Leaky Cauldron or any other establishment where either of them surely would be recognized, they settled for a random muggle pub that wasn't too crowded nor too loud, and where hopefully nobody would ask questions about Snape's choice of clothing. He'd been very much right in that regard, muggles didn't take too kindly to people in robes, but since Robin looked mostly normal, they merely received a few odd glances. Admittedly, they could simply have gone back to making instant coffee somewhere far away from people, but real coffee was a tempting change for once. Thus they found themselves sitting at a small table in a corner, and Robin couldn't help enjoying the anonymity of a crowded place as well as the bliss of doing something so very ordinary with Snape for once. If one looked at it that way, they had never actually spent time in public together, so this was a welcome new experience that came with very welcome tingles no less. Before long their orders arrived, and the overly cheerful blonde waitress reminded Robin of something she had almost forgotten about after everything that had happened that day.

"Oh fuck…" She groaned under her breath, sighing at the realization that her evening had just gotten a whole lot longer than anticipated.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing really." She sighed again as she returned Snape's inquiring gaze and rested her chin in her hands, elbows propped up on the table. "I just remembered that I still have something to do when I return… home tonight."

"Doesn't look like it will be a pleasant task. Chores?"

"If that's what you wanna call Cas, then sure." Robin laughed, especially when he rolled his eyes in return. "I'm supposed to help her with something, and I don't know if I can. At least not in the way she would like me to."

"You have always been exceptional at keeping me in suspense." He sighed, then took a sip of his coffee and motioned for Robin to go on already. After briefly considering it, she did.

"I said something on the train ride home, about how a well written letter can be a great way to connect with someone if you can't see them for a while. And well… she wants to write to Simon without being cheesy or boring."

"And she wants you to write it for her?" Snape quirked an eyebrow at Robin in doubt. "That would defy the entire purpose of such a letter, wouldn't you say?"

"Obviously it would, and that's why I don't know how to help her! She didn't specifically ask me to write it for her, just to help her in any way I can. Give her some inspiration, or pointers maybe… You got any idea?"

"I'm afraid I have no experience with this kind of matter. Most letters I have written throughout my life were related to my work in both content and form. Don't you have received or written something of a similar kind before?"

"Obviously not! I've only ever written to you, to be honest." Robin shrugged, stirring her coffee with a spell before remembering where she was and quickly taking the teaspoon instead. "But I'm supposed to be the knowledgeable one and help Cas out. It's my job to know better than her."

"That is what I thought about you for a certain amount of time." He mused with a not-smirk. "But I gave up at some point in your third year."

Robin chuckled, sipping her coffee as well, before setting it down with a sigh and a new determination. Without another word, she summoned a piece of paper, a pen, and Cas' book out of her backpack, then placed it on the table in front of her with a thud. "You're helping me with this. If I don't know what I'm doing and you don't either, we better be clueless together."

"I had feared you would suggest that." He sighed dramatically, giving her a teasingly annoyed glance nonetheless. "But I would be a poor excuse of a friend if I let you down in times of despair."

Smiling, Robin pushed the dreaded book closer to him and kept the paper to herself. "Here, look through that for anything useful. Cas loves this book, it's full of sappy teen romance."

"And you would know that because…?"

"She sneakily made me promise to read it, so I did. I had to."

"Of course she did…"

"Now you just sound like Dumbledore."

"Insult me and I'm gone." He drawled in bad neutrality while flipping through the pages, and Robin had to snort. Neither of them seemed to be on good terms with the headmaster today, not after he had put Robin through giving a lecture without even a notice.

"The book really is quite terrible. I got it over with in the first week of the holidays, but I barely made it out alive." She remarked as she brainstormed what she knew about letters, love, Cas and Simon, but her thoughts kept coming back to the book as her only point of reference.

"What is it even about? I cannot tell from the glimpses of bad dialogue thrown at me here."

"Oh, you know… stupid stuff." Robin replied evasively, but even to herself that answer was a poor excuse, if anything. She hadn't written it after all, nor even read it voluntarily. But secretly enjoyed it a little more than she would ever admit. "This eighteen year old girl who falls madly in love with some guy who's new at her school. Ridiculous, really… They don't even know each other all that well, but still hit it off after just a few weeks of unreasonable conflict. It's the least romantic thing ever, they don't even seem to care about each other as much as they care about themselves. They go through all those firsts together, which admittedly is quite adorable, but then they ruin it all again by being so flat and shallow and vain that you just wanna smack them in the head the entire time. If anything, that book is a test of patience."

"Certainly sounds like it, yes… The writing is poor, the plot too as it seems, and the dialogue is an abomination in itself."

"Yeah, you could say that." Robin snorted with a smile.

"Perhaps we should treat it as a negative example for the task at hand then." He suggested. "Tell me, what exactly is bad about the way this is written?"

"Well, the entire thing is just so exaggerated and blown out of proportion... It feels unnatural for people who have known each other such a short time to be quite so over the top with their emotions and declarations." Robin started, and at the same time Snape plucked the pen out of her hand and pulled the papers on the table closer to himself.

"Do go on." He said as Robin stopped speaking to frown at his doings, and then gave her a look that left no room for argument beyond his words.

"Uh, alright… as I said, it's exaggerated, and just too much. Then the author also relies way too much on the use of straight out saying 'I love you', as well as just kissing and making out, to indicate the sentiments between the characters. The emotions should rather be obvious between the lines; if you have to directly say them to be understood, you're doing it wrong. Not that saying it would be bad, I don't mean it like that, it's just… it shouldn't be said just because it needs to be. At least not when they're already in a relationship. Their love should be the driving force of everything that is said, not the direct message itself, and-..." Robin cut herself off before she could start rambling again, and focused on moving on instead. "Then, as I said earlier, they seem to not even know each other. You could switch out any of the names on the pages, and it wouldn't make a difference. They should be playing on what they know and adore about each other, even if it's not much yet. Just… lending a book to someone who loves books will be a much more meaningful gesture than getting them a bouquet of roses, for example. People really shouldn't be afraid to go for the unusual kind of gestures and gifts."

"That makes for a decent list of don'ts already, which is a point to start. So tell me, what would you like to read instead of the negatives you pointed out? You already mentioned a few ideas for improvement, but perhaps you can think of more. Start from the negatives you created, and envision their counterpart."

Robin gave him a partially annoyed, partially desperate look, but he merely quirked an eyebrow and waited for her to continue. Insufferable idiot… but his idea to make her talk on the basis of the stupid book was helping more than anything she had come up with herself. Sighing, Robin gave in. What would a teenager want to hear from their love interest? What would Cas enjoy reading if she already enjoyed the stupid book so much? Damnit… this was difficult. "I don't know… I'm not good at these things, I can't imagine what a teenager would want to read."

"If Cassandra would have wanted to write by the standards of a teenager, she would have asked one of her mutuals. But she asked you, so you might as well advise her from your own perspective."

"Fine…" Robin sighed, and hid the heat on her face behind her coffee cup. What had she enjoyed hearing from Snape, in letters or in conversation? Or rather what would she enjoy? Damnit, she should have allowed herself to dream about this more often. "I think it is of major importance how much you let someone see of yourself. Allowing them to know you better than anyone else, giving them the chance to understand you in a different way by showing them more than just the big picture. Learning about the small and random moments in someone's life just has an entirely different level of intimacy to it than learning about the big things. I mean sure, it's the big events that shape a life, but it's the small things that shape the person and give them their colour. If I had to choose, I would always choose the colour, because it is what makes a person truly who they are, and not just the sum of bad or good things that have happened to them. The sky doesn't need a shape to be beautiful either, but it's the colour that makes one fall in love with it."

For the moment that followed, they both stayed quiet. Robin sipped the remainder of her coffee, and Snape finished writing whatever he was noting down of her words and thoughts. Perhaps she shouldn't have let herself get so deep… perhaps she shouldn't have asked him for help in the first place. But then she would be sitting in her tent by herself tonight, listening to the same old records she had put on every night since taking the player, and drown in sorrows over how little she really knew about love, and about people. No, this was much better indeed. Before long, Snape pushed the piece of paper across the table towards Robin again, and she smiled when she saw the perfectly organized list of things to avoid, and things to do instead. Copying it would probably be the best idea, to send it to Cas in her own handwriting. But Robin was keeping the original for sure.

"I think that should be a decent reference for anyone to write by." He said calmly, and finished the rest of his coffee while leaning back in his chair. "Cassandra would have to make a real effort to mess it up now."

"You should never underestimate Cas' ability to mess things up… Especially the easy ones." Robin grinned at him for a moment, until she managed to tone it down to a sincere smile. "Thank you for your help with this. I think we did pretty well for two people who didn't know any better."

"You shouldn't thank me. It was you who said every single thing that is on this list; I merely wrote it down in an appropriate format."

"And you made me say them in the first place!" Robin objected, almost finding herself as amused as nervous by the fact that the statement was only too true. He was the only reason she knew what truly loving someone felt like, even if it left her no wiser about being loved in return. But she knew that he appreciated her quite a lot, at least. Who else could say that about themselves, huh? In a way, that was a status as exclusive as it could get.

"Perhaps we simply make a good team no matter how impossible the endeavour." He suggested calmly, and gave her a not-smirk that had her melting within seconds.

"We most certainly do."

______________________________

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nooneactuallyasked · 3 years

Text

Diner Gal - Reggie x Reader Part 12

Requested: Nope

Word count: 2,661

Warnings: Not that I know of.

Summary: Julie and the Phantoms ( + Flynn ) go to a musical diner/café/restaurant for inspiration and hopefully a future gig but they end up meeting a very special waitress.

Note: So writer's block on the last chapter/part of your story sucks a whole bunch but we finally did it! I finally finished this – we don’t need to talk about how many months it’s been, sh! THIS IS THE FINAL PART!!!

A few songs in this chapter – I’d recommend listening to them as you read:

Jump in the Line/ Dead Mom Reprise – Beetlejuice the Musical

Obvious – Dear Evan Hansen

ENJOY!

---

Part 1 here Part 2 here Part 3 here Part 4 here Part 5 here

Part 6 here Part 6.5 here Part 7 here Part 8 here Part 9 here

Part 10 here Part 11 here

---

After a few hours of frantically drawing and writing up the final setlist, plans, room arrangements and digging through Cal’s office to find the list of reserved tables, Y/N was finally ready to call her job done. And now to jump right back into ghostly matters, which started with finding Julie and Willie and hoping they had some sort of plan figured out.

“Hey hey, look who’s finally back from the other side!” Flynn’s exclamation was met with winces from the boys and a wry smile from Y/N, “It sure was an adventure, Cal really should organise that office. How’s decorating going?” Flynn sighed in response, “It would be a lot better if some people actually helped out instead of talking to thin air.” She sent a mock glare to Julie who sent an eye roll straight back, “Kinda dealing with bigger and more important things right now, but sure I’ll blow up a balloon right after.”

“So, how has the whole possession thing been going? Any solid way to get Cal back?” Y/N asked, anxiety crawling up the sides of her stomach. Willie looked around at the group, all of whom were fidgeting and avoiding his gaze, sighing he turned back to her, “There is a way, but there’s no guarantee it will work.” Y/N nodded, gesturing for him to continue, “You have to establish a connection first then everything after that is up to Cal and his willpower. This situation is a little different to the one these guys got themselves into, and I’ve also never seen this before so this is the best I can come up with.”

She scrunched up her brow, how on earth did you make a connection with a possessed person? And so she asked exactly that, “Do something that means something to both of you; you’re in the music business, are there any songs that you two would sing together? Something like that. Apart from making the connection, there’s not much else you can do. I’m sorry.” Willie responded, Alex rubbed his arm comfortingly, “This isn’t your fault, it’s no one's fault but Calebs.” Y/N nodded in agreement, “Exactly, you’ve been so incredibly helpful, you all have,” She looked around the group, yes that includes Flynn, and smiled, “Thanks a bunch, you guys.” Her smile quickly transformed into a smug grin, “Luckily, I know exactly which song to use.”

---

A few hours passed and Le Paradis du Chanteur was ready to go, all of the evening’s acts were either out front or preparing in the back. She had seen Julie and the guys a few times in her rushed panic to get a song ready and change the setlist last minute, everything was completely ready and fine, of course, but it didn’t stop Y/N from worrying.

All that was left was to let the guests in, find Cal and make sure the first act was ready (not in that order). She huffed as she hunted down the first act, she supposed they weren’t actually that bad – in fact she could tolerate their outfits somewhat and their music was good. The members were a little annoying but good at what they did so who was she to judge.

Their clothing was easy to spot – they do look like a pack of highlighters (as their nickname would suggest) so it took Y/N no longer than 3 minutes to find them and less than 5 to check in and see that they were practically ready to go on the spot.

Now to find Cal, a challenge she was ready to face head-on, probably. It took Y/N quite a bit longer to find him but, after asking around and getting her co-worker to point her in the right direction, she found him sitting in the kitchen, blank as ever. Y/N sighed and pulled him into the main area, hoping he would at least interact with the guests if they spoke to him.

She hoped that this evening wouldn’t turn into a disaster but who knew at this point – she walked to the entrance and put on her best smile, and went to let everyone in.

---

A couple of acts had already gone and she was up next on the newly improved setlist – here goes the performance of a lifetime.

Y/N breathed out, stepping towards the mic, “Hello, everyone! I hope you’re enjoying your evening so far, we have only a few acts left to go! Before we continue, I’d just like to sing a little something in honour of our amazing manager, Cal!” A series of applause and a few whistles followed her words, Y/N relaxed, if anything went wrong at least she could say she tried. “As I’m sure some of our regulars know, Cal has always been one to enjoy a good musical, you’d hope so with this line of work.” Another ripple of laughter and a few cheers, a grin spread across her face. “When I first joined this diner as a performer, I auditioned with the song I’m about to sing for you now, I like to think of it as our song. Not to mention the fact that for at least 2 weeks after I got the job I couldn’t stop singing it, I think every one of the staff here tonight, and those who aren’t, know the song word for word now, sorry about that. So, with no further ado, I give you my audition song.” Taking the mic out of its stand, Y/N stepped back, spotting Cal sitting in the back corner, face empty of anything, as the backing music started up.

Shake, shake, shake, Senora

Shake your body line

Shake, shake, shake, Senora

Shake it all the time

Y/N hopped off of the stage and skipped around tables, whenever she passed a staff member she dance with them for a second, before they would both move on, quickly forming a line.

Work, work, work, Senora

Work your body line

Work, work, work, Senora

Work it all the time

The line quickly made its way back to the stage, everyone now singing to each other and dancing together. Y/N closed her eyes and quickly prayed that this was working. She skipped around the line, pointing at different staff members to sing the solo lines.

My girl's name is Senora

I tell you, friends, I adore her

And when she dances, oh brother

She’s a hurricane in all kinds of weather

She laughed as she went back to her place in the line, smiling at her co-workers beside her.

Jump in the line, rock your body in time

(Okay, I believe you)

Jump in the line, rock your body in time

(Okay, I believe you)

The line jumped slightly to the left every time they sang that line and then danced with the people around them, some workers went to tables and started dancing and singing with the talent scouts or any families or regulars that had booked a place that evening.

Shake, shake, shake, Senora

(Ahh)

Work, work, work, Senora

(Ahh- Woo!)

Y/N grabbed Sam’s hand and led them to the middle of the floor as she sang, turning to face them, trying to contain her giggles, as they did a mock opera performance.

Cal, I know you’re listenin'

Doesn’t this just blow your mind?

I was on a mission

This is what I left behind

She made her way over to Cal, hoping to see something behind his eyes. Y/N pulled him up by his hand and danced him over to the line of performers at the front.

I'll miss you every day

Seek a little strange and unusual

And you will find

The line, still acting as her incredibly enthusiastic backing vocals, started spreading out, a few stayed on the stage while others jumped off to dance and sing with the guests. Sam came over to Y/N and Cal and brought into a weird little circle dance as Noelle and Casey cackled from a nearby table.

Life beyond all comprehension

A mess in multiple dimensions

A little unconventional, I know

Y/N’s eyes widened in worry as Cal groaned in pain in front of her. She waved Casey over who quickly grabbed him and sat him down on a nearby, empty chair.

But, Cal, I am home

I'm home

As soon as she had finished singing, Y/N rushed over to Cal. “You okay?” He grunted in return, “Been better, but then again I could probably be a lot worse.” Her breath hitched as he squeezed his eyes tight and groaned again. His breathing quickened slightly before he let out a big breath and a purple light appeared on his neck. Y/N pulled his collar down to get a better look at it but as quickly as it came it faded away again. “You doing good, Callerina?” He rolled his eyes, “I will be when you stop with those nicknames…and when Sam stops dancing like that.”

She laughed, tears pricking at her eyes, as Cal snorted at Sam’s ridiculous dancing, they were completely embarrassing Noelle as they forced her to waltz around the room. “I thought they said they were a professional dancer when I hired them. Oh well.” He turned to face Y/N, the twinkle back in his eyes, “I thought my return would be more dramatic, I’ll be honest. But this is alright too.” Y/N rubbed at her eyes as she scoffed at him, “Of course, only you would say this wasn’t dramatic enough.” Cal shrugged, “Well when you reach old age, like me, you’ll learn that even bending down takes a lot of effort, might as well make it worth the trouble.” Y/N rolled her eyes, “Cal, you’re 31. You’re not that old.” He sniffed in response, “I watched you grow into the ghostbuster that you’ve become, didn’t I? I think that’s old enough.” She scoffed, though a fond smile played on the edges of her lips, “Well, since you ruined our nice moment I might as well get back to orders and making sure all of our acts are okay.” Cal’s eyes widened at that, “I forgot, I’m so sorry you had to do that all alone, I’ll let you steal anything you want from the diner kitchen after this as a sorry and thank you gift.” She grinned, “As if I wasn’t gonna do that already.”

Y/N walked away, giggling to herself as she heard Cal squawk in indignation behind her. This was totally worth it, she had her family back and a new family as well.

---

It was now the end of the night, lots of people were ordering the last things to eat or drink or finishing up what they already had before they left. All performers were out on the floor, taking orders, entertaining young children or talking to talent scouts if they had the time. It was the noisiest it had been all evening, even with all the bands and music, performance and dancing that had occurred.

Julie awkwardly stood on stage, fiddling with the mic stand. “Excuse me? Hi. Um, so I know this is kinda weird and short notice but one of our band members has a message for a special someone so we hope you enjoy.” She steps back from the mic and moves over to the keyboard towards the front corner of the performance area, Reggie practically vibrated behind the mic whilst the other two musketeers glared at him to chill out before he caused the mic to screech.

The audience had quietened down and now sat in expectant silence, Y/N continued serving, though the short notice act did seem to capture most of her attention (albeit confused stares but her attention nonetheless). Reggie took a few deep breaths, readying himself to poof and basically confess his newfound feelings to a living girl who captured his undead heart, wanting what you can’t have really had been taken to that level, huh.

Julie’s fingers danced across the keyboard as Reggie poofed in and strummed along on the acoustic guitar Julie had pried from Luke’s cold, dead hands, he had wanted to keep the song simple, strip it down to its purest form, mirroring his feelings. That and the fact that he had done this last minute and dragged everyone around him into it, so showing off and using flashy techniques was something they just didn’t have the time to add in.

When we know something is true

Beyond question or doubt

There's no particular point

In pointing it out

Reggie strums his guitar, looking solely at either the guitar or the mic, trying to gather up his courage. He wrote this song for Y/N, why couldn’t he just look at her?

Blue is the colour of sky

'Cause mothers all worry

And old people die

A phone rings, a bee stings

It's something you don't need to hear

It's just clear

He looked back at Julie, finding her smiling at him encouragingly. He smiled back at her in return. He could do this!

Why go stating the obvious?

It's so painfully obvious

How could you miss

Something that's this plain to see?

When it's glaring and staring

Right at you

So obviously

He looked up to meet Y/N’s eyes, she had stopped moving around after handing out her last order, instead, she stood staring at him, completely awestruck. He almost chuckled, how could she stare at him like he hung the stars when she was brighter than the sun?

When you get bored you draw stars

On the cuffs of your jeans

You still fill out the quizzes you find

In those teen magazines

And you dance like nobody's there

Awkward and perfect

You don't even care

Something courageous, amazing, contagious

And kind

All combined

Y/N huffed out breathy laughs as she stared at him, the stupid, leather-covered, ghost boy. She knew she hadn’t fallen in love – she hadn’t fallen anywhere, she had walked into her feelings, completely aware and content. He made it easy, Y/N hoped she made it easy too.

Why go stating the obvious?

It's so painfully obvious

How could you miss

Something that's this plain to see?

When it's glaring and staring

Right at you

So obviously

Sam grabbed her by the hand and pulled her towards the stage until she was right in front of it – right in front of him, “Have fun with your Romeo, don’t forget about us when you’re off on dates.” They cackled as they ran away, narrowly avoiding Y/N’s punches.

Sometimes the words

We tend to withhold

But they're exactly the words

Someone needs to be told

But oh, thinking they know

We never say "I love you

I love you

I love you"

Y/N smiled up at him as he beckoned her onto the stage. She never thought when she took up this part of the job that she’d end up meeting a bunch of ghosts and their human companion + friend, have her manager be possessed and garner feelings for the golden retriever incarnate.

'Cause why go

Stating the obvious

It's so painfully obvious

How could you miss

Something that's this plain to see?

When it's glaring, and staring right at you

So obviously

As the song quieted down, Julie shared looks with Alex and Luke pretended like he wasn’t tearing up at the sight of the pair on stage. Sam and Noelle smiled at each other and Casey rolled her eyes, she truly was surrounded by idiots that she had somehow adopted, not that she regretted it necessarily but she would never admit it.

“Hey, Y/N,” Reggie stepped away from the mic, “I’m not in love with you or anything, but I think I could be if you’d be okay with that?” The girl in question chuckled, “I think I could love you too, eventually. But how about we get to know each other for longer than a week first, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect, Diner Gal.”

---

Taglist:

@dotishyperfixating @daddydraco0 @morganayenneferburnham

@dxestars @dcnerd98 @ultraworthlessbitch

@revolutionary-werewolf-ghosts @underc0vercryptid

@underc0vercryptid-reads @miisacore

@cas-loves-pizza @slytherhoes

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mhafiction · 4 years

Text

Req from @annonymousbread:

Here is an actual request if you’re okay with it ☺️

Maybe a story where katsu’s crush from class 1-A gets kidnapped and they don’t find her for over a year. Which by then class 1-A has graduated and all become pro hero’s.

Then Katsuki finally finds her on one of his missions?

Note: This is really becoming a Bakugo fanfic blog huh? I’m not complaining, he’s a very fun boy. -K.

“Bakugo!”

He remembered it. Your sobbing, the fear in your voice, your cries of pain. He saw the rubble, the overcast sky, every little thing rendered with terrifying accuracy. He looked down at his hands. Why was he back here? An uneasy feeling reveled in the pit of his stomach. You cry out again, your shouts solitary and panicked. Lighting courses through his veins, and without an ounce of hesitation, he takes off running. He had to find you.

His lungs burn as he navigates the field, his heart pounding in his head, eyes darting back and forth with frenzied panic as he scans the ruins. Y/N, where are you? The rubble morphs into a terrifying maze, and he feels a cold sweat drip down his back. Bakugo hears you call out his name again and again, and fears the worst, turning around-

There you were, standing in front of him with that faraway look in your eyes. Your eyes... those goddamn eyes haunted him ever since. He reached out to you, tried to call you name-

But you slipped right through his fingers. His throat was tight; nothing came out. And you just stared at him, unblinking, lips ever so slightly parted.

“Why Katsuki? Why couldn’t you have saved me?”

Your voice is accusatory, bitter, and so unlike everything that he knew about you... yet it felt so real.

Bakugo feels a dryness in his mouth as he shouts to you, his voice cracking. It was if a dam burst, and he sobs, sinking to his knees. “I tried!” He curses, watching you turn your back to him, and as he reaches out his hand to catch your wrist, he jolts awake.

Katsuki pants, heaving up and down. Sweat rolls down his forehead. It had felt way too real. He sighs, checking the clock. 4 am. Great. Should he even be surprised? He rises, pulling open his curtains and preparing for the day ahead, your face still fresh in his mind

Bakugo hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest since your disappearance, almost two years ago. Hell, he wondered how anyone from 1-A did. They had been there, too- that fateful day of the school festival, everyone riled up to celebrate the fact that it was their last one before graduation. And of course, something had to go wrong.

Your quirk was invaluable and insanely powerful: controlling probability. If you stockpiled enough energy, you could exert it to tip the scales to someone’s advantage, which could range from boosting the probability of rolling a six on a die...or boosting the probability of someone winning a fight. It worked better when more specific and focused, however.

You had gained a lot of attention from having such an interesting quirk, but some of it turned out to be pretty...bad. Including a plucky group of villains who had been able to capture you during the school festival. The brawl had moved to the city, after Bakugo sent one of the dudes careening into the side of a building with a skillful explosion. Pros urged him to evacuate, but he didn’t listen. He couldn’t have, not when you had been among the ones to save him when he had been kidnapped.

But you weren’t as lucky.

They got away with you. Bakugo remembered the look on your face as you were whisked away into thin air. Gone without a trace, slipped through his fingers.

The search was an ordeal that was significantly harder than his own. The group that had kidnapped you was pretty underground. This, in fact, was their first major crime.

So that left police with no leads, no identification, and no evidence whatsoever. The case went cold. Not a day went by when Bakugo didn’t think of you. His graduation had been somber, Class 1-A collectively on edge together for the rest of the year. Y/N, the promising rising star, so obviously on track to becoming a powerful hero— snuffed out just like that. There was rage, there were tears, there was silence. But now, they had to move on. They were adults, pro-heroes who needed to focus on bigger things. He growled. Yeah, right.

It was no secret among his peers that he liked you. After that incident, many pitied him and the way he kept his head down and his jaw clenched. They didn’t speak up when he lost his temper, they didn’t point out that he was easier to piss off than usual, and they didn’t try to stop him when he’d curse a disproportionate amount at some inanimate object that had wasn’t working right. They knew his pain. Despite him never opening up to anyone, they knew. Bakugo immersed himself in his ambition; training and fighting being the only “healthy” outlet he had. By the time he left UA, he was already in the top ten and slowly forming an agency. He kept an old bulletin board dedicated to your case, spending months trying to track you. Everyone considered him crazy for refusing to let go. But that never stopped him.

His phone rings, and he groans, seeing the contact. Nevertheless, he answers, forcefully brushing the phone against his ear.

“Deku?!”

“Ah! Kacchan, I need to ask for your help on a case.”

Bakugo rubs his temples, annoyed just at the sound of his childhood friend’s voice.

“Heh? Like I would help you, nerd!”

Deku’s voice takes on a graver tone, somewhat faltering. “I think you’d want to after you hear this guy’s MO.”

“Yeah right.”

“No, listen. You remember-“ Deku pauses a moment, hesitating as he chokes back his words. His voice is strained over the phone, betraying some sort of feeling that leaves Bakugo on edge. “You remember Y/N?” Deku continues.

Bakugo bites his lip, brow furrowed with anguish. Internally, he thanks whatever higher power there is that his old friend can’t see his face.

“How could I forget?” He mumbles.

“Well,” Deku breathes, his tone still solemn. “This guy- eyewitness reports say he vanishes into thin air. Literally. He’s been spotted all over the prefecture, mostly dealing in theft, but the most recent case they’ve linked him to is the kidnapping of a Shiketsu boy. Promising kid. The cases also match up with your research, too. I know it’s a stretch-“

Bakugo looks at the old bulletin board placed above his bed, bitter recollection filling his head. “I’m in.”

“Eh? You are?”

“Yes, you shitty nerd! Just brief me on the course of attack. Bastard won’t know what hit him.” He prays that Deku won’t catch on to the trembling intensity of his words. He didn’t need anyone else’s pity, much less Deku’s. What he needed was to find you.

“...You know it might not be him, right? And even if it is, there’s no guarantee...?”

Bakugo tenses, and the line is silent for a moment. His palms are suddenly heavy, weary with exhaustion. He sighs, frustration in a single breath.

“Goddamn it, I know that. But I have to try, Deku.” His voice cracks, shaky but firm. “I owe it to her.”

Deku is quiet. The air is thick—almost suffocating. And finally, he responds.

“Then, drop by my agency this evening. There’s a lot to cover.”

———————————————————————

“Peh. So this is the place.”

Bakugo looks up at the building. It was modest, but classy. Respectable,especially with its prime location. Not that he’d let Deku know.

He’s escorted into a conference room, eyeing the place up and down. His face contorts into dramatic anger when he locks eyes with none other than Todoroki Shouto.

“WHAT’S ICY-HOT DOING HERE?!”

Bakugo grabs Midoriya by the collar, his eye twitching and his fist poised. Deku starts sputtering like a dying fish, waving his hands around.

“Kacchan- he was interested in the mission, too! And it’s not like we can’t use his help-“

“YES WE CAN! WE DON’T NEED HIM!”

“But he might be useful! He’s a top ranking hero too, you know-“

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE’LL BE USEFUL!”

Bakugo reels back his arm, ready to blast Deku’s ass into the stratosphere. Todoroki appears behind him, cool as ever.

“Bakugo,” Shouto begins, gently setting a hand on his shoulder. “She was my friend, too.”

Bakugo pauses, his violent persona sufficiently diffused. He loosens his grip on Midoriya, casting Todoroki a wayward glare. Shouto returns it with his own determined eyes. “Tch. Whatever. Let’s get on with this.”

They settle into seats, Midoriya wheeling in a large whiteboard with meticulous notes dotted all over it.

“First and foremost, I guess I should start with the fact that we’ll also be joined by Uravity, Red Riot, and Froppy,” Midoriya begins, adjusting a projector.

“Do we really need that many people?”

“In all likelihood, no. But there’s a tip that this guy is linked to some bigger crime ring.” A map charting several misdemeanors flicks onto the board. “So, with backup, we’re better safe than sorry.”

Bakugo slumps in his chair. “What is this, a high school reunion?” He jeers.

Midoriya gives him a wry smile. “I guess you can look at it like that. Thanks to your intel, Kacchan, we were able to track down his ID. I went through some records down at the station, and the guy we’re going after apparently has some sort of molecular rearrangement quirk.”

Todoroki cocks his head. “Sort of like that Yakuza guy? Back with Eri?”

“Sort of. But the point is, it allows him to disappear covertly. Really covertly. He just needs to break down his body and his target to their smallest forms and he can manipulate and transport them without a trace. Disappearing into thin air.”

“That sounds awfully familiar,” Todoroki notes, giving Bakugo a quick glance. Bakugo snorts in response, recalling your disappearance. Thin air, huh?

Midoriya nods. “I have a hunch that...it’s the same guy. But, since there’s no guarantee, let’s not get our hopes up. Let’s just focus on prioritizing the rescue.” He turns his board over, revealing an even more intricate chart on the back. “Let’s go over a plan.”

———————————————————————

The fateful day arrived. Police encircled the building- some dingy joint on the bad side of town that looked like any other dive bar. Bakugo would lead the calvary alongside Kirishima and Todoroki, while Asui and Deku rounded off any potential exits. Uraraka watched from above, surveying the entire scene with bated breath.

Bakugo kicks down the door, poised to attack, and meets the faces of at least twenty other folks. One shouts above the ramble and suddenly all hell breaks loose. People are throwing bottles, attacking at Bakugo and each other- and he catches a glimpse of someone fleeing down a flight of stairs behind the bar.

He pursues, carving through the dense crowd with ease. He flies down the stairwell, greeting darkness almost immediately. Bakugo’s explosions flicker in his hands, casting orange shadows over his face in the dim hall. It’s narrow, and there’s only one way to go. There’s only one thing to do. He takes off running, panting heavily, gritting his teeth. This bastard- the nerve he had. To steal the futures of some promising kids.

The hall opens to a cavernous room, and Bakugo edges along the wall, silently inching forward. He catches a glimpse of a long shadow limping back and forth, pacing with nervous energy. Bakugo grins to himself, prepared to strike, and as the silhouette passes the opening of the hallway, he tackles them, restraints in hand. “DIE!” He sends an explosion to their backside. The villain lets out a sturdy cry of pain and immediately yields. Not that it mattered, the restraints wouldn’t permit the use of his quirk whatsoever.

Bakugo looks the guy up and down, hate filling his chest. He growls, “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

The man is silent, not even meeting Bakugo’s fiery eyes. Bakugo forces his head towards him, watching fear dance in his gaze. He sneers. “You’re just a coward,” he spits.

Kirishima’s footsteps patter through the hall, and the red-haired boy bursts into the room, stumbling upon the scene.

“Bakugo! That’s the guy!” Bakugo tosses the criminal to him, surveying the area. “Take care of it,” he mumbles in his raspy tone. “I’m looking for the victim.”

He approaches a nearby door- old and decrepit, like everything else in the place. With calculated force, he blasts it down, dread forming in the pit of his stomach. The room is dirty and neglected, like some kind of dungeon.

His eyes widen when he sees your face, hollow cheeks and empty eyes chained against the wall alongside a sobbing boy. Shock fills your sunken form, and you utter out his name, a wistful, raspy murmur.

“Katsuki...?”

Bakugo freezes, once again feeling a terrible weight in his chest. He wants to scream, he wants to go to you- but he’s rooted to the spot, disgusted at your treatment...and at himself. Police flood the little room, Midoriya shouting commands and comforting the boy, and everything’s in a haze. But throughout it all, he never tears his eyes from you, despite the clenching he feels in his heart.

You wake up in an unfamiliar hospital bed. The world seems different. Fresh, and new. A small smile forms on your face, and you giggle quietly to yourself, blinking in the gentle light. You examine the room. A clean, white place with a monitor beeping softly in the background. The hum of machines drone on, and to your right-

You gasp, surprised to see the sleeping face of none other than Bakugo Katsuki, slumped down in a chair. Your childhood crush, handsome as ever. Halos bounced off of the spikes of his hair where the light hit him, leaving him looking like some otherworldly beauty. You laugh to yourself, starting as a small chuckle at this moment- then dissolving into a deep, boisterous and emotional expression of mirth, one that caused tears to form at the corner of your eyes and made you choke over your own joy. It inadvertently woke your spiky-haired hero, who looked down at you, eyes wide and tired.

“Y/N.”

You lift your hand up to him, cupping his face. “Katsuki.”

His jaw clenches, and his eyes go glassy. As he speaks, you feel a sadness, deep and broken, in his heart, and his voice cracks.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry I couldn’t be faster. That I couldn’t save you-“ he chokes.

“I never lost hope in you.” Bakugo looks into your eyes, and your heart skips a beat with how vulnerable he looks. “I stockpiled energy with the hope that you’d rescue me,” you whisper, brushing away a tear from his face. “I trusted you’d be the one. Out of all of them at UA-“ you smile softly, recalling your high school years. “You were the one I thought of the most. And thinking of you...it gave me hope.” How far away it all seemed. Those days with your friends, training on the field, hoping to be a hero.

“I thought of you, too.” Bakugo grips your hand, as if afraid you’ll disappear again. You pull him into a hug, stroking his trembling form. It felt so good to be in his arms, almost dream like. “Katsuki, I have something to tell you, though,” you murmur. “I had quite the crush on you, back at UA,” you chuckle. He pulls back, still holding you. He brings a calloused hand to your face, drinking in your features. “I did, too,” he admits. You feel butterflies flutter in your stomach, and suddenly it’s as if you’re sixteen again.

“Do you think it’s still there?” You breathe.

He never takes his eyes from yours, and slowly moves in to press his forehead to yours.

“If you do.” You close the distance, placing a kiss on his lips. You drown in his familiar scent, sighing with contentment. Now, this felt like home. Bakugo moves back cautiously, his gentle demeanor and tone never shifting. He brushes a hair away from your face, ever so softly.

“God, you think we can make it work?” He mutters. “You deserve someone who could have saved you on the first try.”

Your brow creases watching Katsuki avert his gaze. You force him to turn his head to you, looking at you straight on. “We have the rest of our lives, Katsuki,” you tell him. “And don’t you dare think that you’ve failed me. You’re the one who tried the hardest. You’re the one who saved me.” Bakugo shrugs.

“I didn’t do it alone.”

You shake your head, beaming. “That’s not what I mean. Holding on to the idea that you’d come— that’s what saved me. I would have died, ages ago if I didn’t carry that hope with me. If I didn’t have that goal to save up my energy to help you find me.”

Bakugo softens beneath your touch, melting as you give him a couple of pecks. He grips your tiny hand in his, swearing that he’ll never let you go ever again.

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