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divinerulerluvr · 3 years

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Not Allowed

Where Kai gets mad at you for disobeying him and regrets being so rude.

Pairings - Kai Anderson x fem!reader

Words - 2.0k

Warnings - toxic relationship, manipulation, murder mention, blood mention, choking, finger (fem. receiving), honestly Kai is his own warning, edging, teasing

A/N - I was gonna finish and post this last night but i had a breakdown so here i am. This was also supposed to be angsty smut but it started as angst and turned into hurt/comfort smut. So... yeah :/

- - -

Walking into Kai’s house, you immediately headed for the bathroom. You had just killed someone all by yourself and Kai was the last person you would want to catch you with blood splatterings on your skin and clothes.

Reaching the stairs, you heard someone clearing their throat from behind you.

You freeze, only having made it up two steps. You were too afraid to turn around and face Kai with the blood on your face and clothes. You eventually do, worry coating your face as your eyes meet with his disapproving stare.

He quickly notes the blood on your skin, his jaw clenching and a glare crossing his face. “Did you take care of the body?” he asks dryly, his voice monotone.

“Yes,” you groan, hating how he coddled you. He never ever treated any of his other members like this. Just you and it got fucking boring after a while. “And did you get rid of the weapon?” he questions.

“Yes, Kai,” you huff. “I’m tired of you babying me. I’ve killed more people than any person in your cult and yet you treat me like I’m stupid. When I am not,”

He stares at you, sucking his teeth as he crosses his arms. You mock his position, crossing your arms over your chest as you remain standing on the stairs. “I baby you because you need to be babied. You’re sloppy and don’t think,” he says.

You scoff, dropping your arms to your sides as you shake your head. “Just the last mission, you dropped the damn knife and got the guy's blood everywhere. You’re a fucking liability, Y/n,” he criticizes.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you bite back, offended by his words. “I am not a liability. You’re just an ass,”

“An ass who fucking saved you. Be more respectful,” he says, walking away from you and into the living room. You follow him, walking to where he sits down on the couch. “You did not save me,” you argue.

“Mhm. I did,” he hums, not looking up at you from his phone that he mindlessly scrolls on. You snatch the phone from his hand, tossing it onto the floor beside you. He looks up at you, a grin daring to show on his lips at your rage.

“I want out of this fucking cult, Kai. I’m done,” you demand.

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “It’s not that easy. How do I know you won’t narc?”

“Because I could care less about you,”

“Couldn’t care less,” he corrects, looking up at you from his seat on the couch. “What?” you ask, confused by his correction. “Saying you could care less means you do care. Saying you couldn’t care less means you physically can not care less than you already do,” he explains.

“Fuck you and you’re grammar correction,” you huff, turning on your heel to walk out of the living room. Storming up the stairs, you reach the bathroom and slam the door loudly behind you, twisting the lock on the doorknob though you knew it didn’t work. No lock in the whole house worked except on one room and Kai’s bedroom.

You start to pull off your tee shirt, tossing it aside to clean since it had blood on it. Looking in the mirror, you saw the blood seeped through the thin material and got onto the skin on your stomach. Muttering curses, you run the water and try to get the blood off.

The red liquid just smears around, causing you to groan. You walk over to the shower, going to turn it on when the bathroom door flew open, hitting the wall loudly.

You jump, turning to face Kai who stood angrily in the doorway. His eyes scan your body, taking in how you wore only a bra and jeans. “You don’t walk away from me. Learn your place here,”

Glaring at him, you reach back down to turn the shower on only to be pushed up against the wall roughly. You groan, the impact hurting just slightly. Kai holds you by your neck, his grip choking you and keeping you at his mercy.

“Fucking let go of me, Kai,” you choke out, your words pitiful given the state you’re in. He keeps you pressed against the wall despite your weak command, his dark eyes burning you as he stares at you.

“Kai--”

You’re quickly cut off by him letting go of you. He threw you to the side, his aggression making him stronger than usual.

Panting, you catch your balance and return to a standing position. You adjust your bra, the silence in the small room deafening as Kai calms himself using some technique his anger management counselor taught him.

“I’m leaving,” you say, going to walk by Kai and leave the room, no longer caring about showering. Kai stops you by grabbing your wrist, pulling you back to him. He pulls you so that your chest is pressed against his, the two of you dangerously close.

“You need me, Y/n. What type of man would i be to let the weak roam free?” you feel your eyes water, this conflict overwhelming you.

You swallow thickly, the tone of his voice guilt-tripping you into complying. “Don’t you love me?” he adds, making you feel bad about wanting to leave him.

Sighing, you nod sheepishly. Kai smiles softly before kissing you, his lips familiar and kind. He was good at that. You know, the entire making you forget he was a shit person by kissing you and manipulating you.

He moves you so that your thighs were pushing into the sink, his lips still moving tenderly with yours. A stray tear falls from your eye, rolling mockingly down your cheek as Kai kisses you. He pulls back from you, noticing the tear painting your cheek.

Placing his hand on your cheek, he wipes the tear away with his thumb as he looks into your eyes. “Let me make it better,” he whispers.

You nod softly, feeling his free hand glide up your thigh. You pull yourself up so you’re sitting on the sink, more leveled with Kai now. His hand rests on your clothed thigh while the other holds your face in a faux caring way.

His lips meet yours again, not any hint of his previous anger in the way he kissed you. It was his fucked up way of apologizing.

You melt into his touch though, somehow comforted by his hand no matter how many times you had been afraid of it. The hand that rested on your thigh slowly makes its way between your legs. You shudder as his fingers graze over your clothed clit to tease you.

With no need to take off your pants, he stimulates you through the fabric of your jeans. You buck your hips into his hand, your moans silenced by his lips on yours.

He starts moving his fingers a little faster, helping to relieve any tension built by his brief teasing. You moan into his lips, your brows furrowed as you push your hips down into his fingers for more pressure to be applied.

You feel him smile into the kiss, enjoying your fervor for pleasure. Giving in to your adorable attempts, he applies more pressure. You gasp into his lips, the feeling making you soaked.

He pulls from the kiss, his eyes meeting yours as his fingers work at your clit. He pushes your hair from your face, getting himself hard just by seeing your expression. “Does it feel good?” he derides.

You nod quickly, barely being able to keep eye contact as you rock your hips against his hand. “Y-Yes, Kai,” you stammer out, knowing he’d want a verbal response as well.

He grins, pulling you into his chest. Your head rests in the crook of his neck, your body close to his. You find an odd comfort in the warmth of his body as he touches you. Kai relishes in the weak moans that fall so freely from your lips; the cute noises encouraging him to continue.

“Kai... I’m close,” you barely manage to say, your lips grazing his neck. “Not yet,” he warns, wanting to see how long you could last. “I’ll say when you can cum,” A disappointed sigh leaves your lips as you focus on not cumming.

It was harder than it seems.

His fingers rub skilled circles over your clit, changing the pace in intervals to keep you on edge. His hand lands on your hip, stopping you from grinding against his hand.

You wrap your arms around the back of Kai’s neck, suppressing your moans by biting his neck. The pleasure started to become too much and you try to close your legs as an instinctual response.

Kai rips your legs back apart, the rough movement eliciting a gasp from you. He continues rubbing you through your jeans, your wetness soaking your panties.

You were right on the edge of an orgasm when Kai removed his hand from you completely. You were about to complain but Kai cut you off when he started to remove your pants and underwear. You smile excitedly, raising your hips from the sink to help him remove them.

He steps back between your legs, letting you resume your position laying against his chest as his fingers find your wet pussy.

A sharp gasp falls from your lips as he pushes two fingers into your pussy, the sensation making your body quiver. Your body tenses as he starts moving his fingers in a delicious “come here” motion that had you reaching your orgasm insanely quickly.

Your wetness soaks his fingers, making Kai smile proudly. He loved the effect he had on you.

You push your hips against his hand, his palm grazing your sensitive clit. You moan weakly, your moans being more of a breathy pant at this point.

Pushing off your orgasm had become increasingly difficult especially now that his fingers were inside of you. Kai being someone who games and types a lot, he’s very good with his fingers. Really good.

“God…” you trail off, screwing your eyes shut as you push your lips tight together. His spare hand rests on your thigh, stroking your soft skin.

“Good girl, holding out this long,” he praises, his words sending a rush of arousal down to your pussy. “When I get to zero, you can cum,”

You smile, nodding at his instruction. “Five…” he starts, purposely rubbing his palm against your clit as he fingers you. “Four…” he continues his slow counting. Your orgasm was building up and you could tell it’d be blinding.

“Three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

He pauses longer than before. Your entire body tenses up as you await the beloved final number. He grins, feeling how desperately you were trying to obey his task.

“Zero,”

You immediately let go, a moan of relief leaving your mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. You tighten your hands into fists, your breathing picking up even more as you shook from where you sat on the sink.

Kai continues fingering you slowly, pushing you through to the end of your orgasm. You relax, his hand that was on your thigh now wrapped around your back and holding you close to him. His fingers remain in you, allowing you to feel the comforting sensation of being filled up.

“See? Good girls get good rewards,” he whispers, his hand traveling up your back and playing with your hair. You stay silent, still recovering.

“I love you,” you say softly, your voice weak. Kai smiles, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

“Mhm,”

#evan peters #ahs #kai anderson #smut #request #angst #fake fluff #manipulation #its kai anderson #what do you expect here

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sukiglycerin · 4 years

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it’s too cold outside for angels to fly || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x angel quirk!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, angst, actually sfw (wow, luna's can do that?!)

* words: 8.1k (it’s a big baby!)

* warnings: mentions of trauma, reader is insecure but it's not their entire personality, therapy (not a lot of scenes with it), slight intoxication, mentions of throwing up (not much), like one suggestive joke, (light) cussing because bakugou

* original request: All I’m saying is reader with a angel quirk and the reader even has wings AND ANGST (but happy at the end 🥺) WITH BAKUGOU sounds so good 😔 but of course if you don’t want to do that it’s fine no pressure 💕

* a/n: hi 'nonnie! i hope you like you like this! honestly, it turned out longer than i expected (twice the length lol) but i'm proud of this baby. i'd like to note that enko, the nickname bakugou calls reader means 'halo' in japanese and can double down as a name, and an important reminder not to take any advice from the therapy in this fic. i am not a professional therapist, and please seek advice for situations specific to yours. the name of the fic is inspired by a lyric from ed sheeran's 'a-team,' but i promise it's not that dark. thanks so much to @toishi and the amazing feedback from @dylanxmin for beta-reading this! hope you enjoy!

* synopsis: you were your parents' perfect angel. you listened, and you followed. you didn't become a pro-hero, you stayed inside per your parents' request. it was okay if you couldn't fly; or, at least it was, before katsuki bakugou came along...

your grandmother loved pastries. that’s why you were here, trekking through the cold city in the tokyo winter. you shivered everytime your feathers came in contact with the frigid air, as if they, too, cowered under the looming shadows of tall buildings and bright lights.

so many people roamed the sidewalks, yet any bodily warmth was gone. you regretted not buying a cover for your wings - surely, it'd be an investment despite the price. wing covers were rarely manufactured for your size in japan, mainly aimed for small children just developing a quirk. the extra cloth needed for adult wing covers as well as shipping costs jacked up the price, making you hesitant to buy them. your wings were folded against the outside of your coat (putting them inside gave you cramps), nuzzling against your back subconsciously for heat. your wings were a pale cream colour, slightly more vibrantly mustard-coloured at the tips, and were the most visible part of your quirk.

according to the doctor, your quirk was "angel," but it felt nothing more than a pet name. there was a time in your life that you adorned a halo, but it no longer hovered above you when you looked up now. you weren't granted much power with your quirk; you were barely able to fly with your wings, but maybe you had a stronger moral compass than others? the wings, at this point in your life, were just accessories, as useless as the appendix. they could only cause you pain. you walked mindlessly toward the bakery, snow flurries dotting your hair. the bakery was a rundown, easy to miss place; you would've missed it if you hadn't gone there so many times. the faded yellow paint on the exterior was peeling, the poster on the window ripped and advertising for summer deals from years back. it had only a word-of-mouth reputation to rely on.

there was a worn sticker on the door, right at eye level, which said the name of the bakery in loopy letters: 'the flour road.'

you swung the door open with a jingle, greeted by the scent of baking bread and warmth. the bakery was your grandmother's favorite, specializing in rice cakes and dorayaki. she loved the pastries, for some reason - the baklava especially. she sent you on an errand to buy her some, giving you extra money to buy your personal favorite of dorayaki. to be exact, she pushed the money into your hands and forced you to buy a dorayaki for yourself. it was still warm when the cashier handed you your boxes, which you gingerly put in the bag.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the cold, before you opened the door and found yourself back in the cold winter.

a hand roughly pulled you into an alley, and you found yourself face to face with a masked figure.

"give me your money." the figure pointed to your purse, tugging it.

"i don't- i don't-" you reach to take off your purse, not questioning it. there was simply nothing you could do; besides, the voice was young enough. what if they were simply going through a rough time in life? that was no cause to-

"OI, DUMBASS, WHADDAYA THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" a spiky haired man appeared suddenly, wearing what appeared to be melons on his arms. you suddenly recognized his getup of black, orange, and green; he was a pro-hero. what was his name? zero gravity? zero gr...ass?

"LADY, MOVE ASIDE." he looked you over. "FLY, OR SOMETHING."

"i can't-" but he was already after the thief. it took him less than 30 seconds to capture the thief; he was fast by himself, but was faster when propelled by his explosions.

"well, why are you here still?" he turned to you, the figure from before slung over his shoulder.

"i can't fly," you blurted.

he blinked. "then walk. besides, you literally have-" the figure moaned over his shoulder. "agh, nevermind, gotta take this douche to the police. go home."

the next you see of the explosive melon hero is at a supermarket. his arms are melonless this time, though, and you're not actually sure if he's the melon hero. you only recognize him by his hair and red eyes, but truthfully, it was probably not him. he was muttering something about "the spice not being spicy enough," and "stupid hair-for-brains nagging about the heat."

you felt a finger poke your wings. "hey miss, you have ugly wings." a stubby boy, no more than 5 or 6, looked up at you. smirking, he pushed his own smaller wings out, hands on his hips. "mine are teal-turquoise! yours are boring white."

"uh, okay-"

"mind your damn business, brat. where are your parents?" you could now confirm that the spiky haired man was indeed the melonhero by his voice and vulgarity. melonhero had turned to the kid, standing by your side.

the kid hmphed and walked away, to where his mother scolded him for straying from her.

"you again?" melonhero turned to you. "you really need to learn how to stand up for yourself."

"eh? i was handling it fine!"

"yeah, sure. what’s up with your wings, anyway?" he grunted. "can’t fly?"

"n-no. they're, uh, too weak." it was something hard to admit out loud for you. all winged people could fly, but you couldn't even hover, your wings just flapping up wind.

"too weak?! eh? is that even possible??" he poked one of your feathers. "they seem sturdy enough to me."

you turn your wings away from him, frowning. "it's not that easy. i-i never really had time to learn..."

"isn't that what all kids do in their free time, though? experiment with their quirk?"

"my parents thought it was useless..." you shuffled your feet awkwardly, eyes downcast.

"WORTHLESS?!" you flinched at his sudden volume. "it's your quirk, though, 'wings'?"

you rubbed the back of your neck. "well, not really... it's...." angel. the word echoed in your mind, under the spotlight on a stage. it stared at you in an empty auditorium. 'angel.' the word had negative connotations for you. to others, it was a sweet, innocent nickname, but to you, it meant more.

it represented the weight of your parents' expectations, the burden of your classes' assumptions. it became a ball and chain, reminding you of who you were, who you were supposed to be, and who you could never become. you were your parents' angel, your parents' little light. nothing else.

"'angel,' eh?"

"huh?" did melonhero suddenly manifest a mind-reading quirk? you look at him, but his gaze is above your head.

"halo."

"halo," you repeated, looking dumbly at the flickering ring above you.

"well then, enko, it's nice to meet you," he smirked.

"i'm not enko- i'm y/n-"

"enko’s better. i'm ground zero, the number one pro-"

"melonhero," you blurted.

"HUH?! what's that, moron?!"

"nothing, sorry, continue-" you apologized. what had gotten into you?

ground zero cleared his throat. "-number one pro-hero! ...it's katsuki bakugou to you."

"bakugou, i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you! oh, and um- where are my manners? -thank you for the other day."

"don't go giving your purse to random men on the street, dumbass."

"it wasn't like that!" you protested. "i mean, what if he was going through a rough time? or, his parents kicked him out-"

"doesn't justify anything. you're so naive," he grunted. "didn't your parents teach you self-defense or anything?"

"w-well, no, not really..." you mumbled. you'd always just been their angel, delicate and thoughtful. you never wanted to disappoint them; always staying inside to clean or cater to their needs. their perfect angel. in their opinion, villains could never touch you if you never went out.

you recalled a time in your youth when deciding on a high school.

"i wanna go to ua!" you'd said. you knew a teacher willing to recommend you, so you didn't need to worry about much.

"honey, no, you can't be a hero..." your father started. "you're an angel, you're our angel, okay?"

your mom nodded. "it'll be dangerous, angel, and we can't have you getting hurt day after day," she added.

you simply agreed, not wanting to upset your parents. they were always right. being a hero wasn't worth it, anyway, you told yourself. it was an unstable job. you'd entered a private high school near the coast of japan, instead of ua.

"eh?! well, how are you supposed to fend for yourself alone?!" bakugou exclaimed.

"i'm... supposed to stay at home..." you confessed quietly.

"then why are you here?!"

"...i moved away from my family."

"and you didn't learn to protect yourself? get yourself some pepper spray, idiot!" bakugou grabbed your wrist, abruptly leading you to an aisle with pepper spray in it. he briefly paused, then picked one.

"it's on me. i can't have more morons like you to save when you could save yourself."

"thank you," you said. in all of his vulgarity, bakugou was semi-decent. you wondered why he was so on edge constantly; perhaps it was a trait from being a high-demand hero.

"HEY!" bakugou yelled, making you jump in place. "whatcha smilin' at?!"

you wiped the small grin that subconsciously crept on your face. "n-nothing."

"tch, so quiet, enko." he looked above you. "halo’s gone? fuckin' weird-ass quirk."

"could you... um... nevermind." you originally wanted to ask him to tone down the swearing, but thought better of it. the vulgarity reminded you of your uncle, and you a gagged at the thought of the disgusting man who'd occasionally crash at your family's home completely wasted.

"what? just spit it out," bakugou said. "i don't get offended, unlike deku or something."

"can you... cut down on the swearing?" you ask, then add more quickly when you see his face. "i mean, it's okay if you wanna keep doing it. i can't stop you. y'know, freedom of speech and everything."

"okay," he said with surprising composure. he didn't question the request, instead looking at you intently.

your gaze was set down, trying not to think of your uncle, and the horrors you'd gone through as a child because of him.

"i- um- sorry," bakugou forced out of himself. "i didn't mean t-"

"don't worry," you smiled cheerily. a fake smile, but you tried to convince yourself it was real.

"d'you-" he coughed, "d'you wanna talk about it?" he seemed to be going through something in his mind. "there's a park nearby - god, what did hitomi say? - we can, uh, talk it out? you can vent."

"oh no, it's fine, you're busy, a pro-hero." you said nervously.

"ah- yeah," bakugou seemed to be flustered too. "my therapist though- uh, she's really damn good- i mean, really good-" he pulls out a wallet from his pocket and sifts through cards. "here." he handed you a business card, advertising 'HITOMI YABUKI' in bold.

you blinked at him and accepted the card reluctantly. pro-heroes were really kind at heart, huh? "is she a pro-hero therapist?" you asked.

"her? no, she does other stuff. normal stuff, trauma, quirk stuff, erm- whatever you need. she's an all-rounder."

"oh." you put the card in your pocket. "okay, thank you."

he grunted, accepting the thanks. "need to buy anything else?"

you glanced at your cart. "no, that's all. thanks for everything, bakugou-"

"i'll pay," he blurted. "for it all." he looks surprised at himself, perhaps even angry. "oh, no thank you-"

"i'll do it. i mean it. you didn't even buy much," he muttered.

"o-okay," you said. he snatched your cart from your hand, walking to a self-checkout.

"weren't you gonna buy anything?" you asked.

"eh?!" he grunted while scanning items.

that was the end of the conversation. once he finished, he swiped his card and handed you a bag.

"make sure you use the damn pepper spray."

it was only once you got home that you realized he slipped his number into one of the bags.

you see bakugou again at hitomi yabuki's therapy lobby. he sat casually, earbuds on as he stared at his phone. you debated sitting next to him and decided against it, not wanting to bother him. you didn’t contact his number yet; your hands sweated at the thought. as much as you were tempted, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of a pro-hero.

you found yourself staring at the man, who was unusually calm at the moment. you stared at his eyelashes, his eyes, down to his nose and lips, and his firm set jaw. your eyes fell to the phone he’s clutching, to the curve of his fingers and uniform nails.

"l/n y/n?" a tall woman called your name. bakugou looked up at you, and for a split second you could see what looked like a genuine smile before it was twisted into a smirk.

"yes!" you stood up and followed her, glancing back at bakugou before he disappeared from your sight. after a short elevator ride, you walked out onto the third floor.

she led you down a short, carpeted hallway to the last door. it was an opaque glass door that said "hitomi yabuki" on a plaque.

"so, what brings you here?" she finally said once the two of you were seated. "um- bakugou?" you said.

she smiled and jotted something down. "is that so?"

"yeah. we met a couple times by accident, and uh, he gave me your business card."

the rest of the session was just introductions - prices, meeting times, and therapy that can be provided. still, you weren’t really sure if you needed the therapy - maybe it’d be suited more for someone else struggling more than you. you didn’t need to use your quirk much; flying wasn’t much your style anyway. what would your parents think if they found out you were taking therapy? they’d surely be hurt, assuming that they didn’t provide a good childhood to you. you could practically hear your mom asking you why you’d waste money on therapy. you took a deep breath as you re-entered the lobby. bakugou was seating in the same place you last saw him, still on his phone. you bid goodbye to the receptionist, thinking out your decisions. your insurance could cover much of the costs for the therapy, but you still wondered if you should spend the money. these thoughts trailed you as you waited on the sidewalk for a cab, watching your breath billow in front of you.

"hey, enko."

your elbow shot out by instinct, hitting the invader of your thoughts.

"woah, idiot, it’s just me." luckily, bakugou had caught your stray elbow, chuckling to himself. "so the angel does know self-defense, eh?"

you stiffened at the pet name, though you knew bakugou meant well. you could remember each distinctive voice in your childhood. your parents beckoning: angel. your nickname: angel. how everyone saw you: angel. you could never escape it, not with your halo or wings. it was so distinctive, your defining quality. whether he noticed the shift in your posture, he didn’t say. "how was it? hitomi’s great, right?"

you hummed in response, rubbing your wings together for heat.

"are wings supposed to get cold? aren’t they just... feathers?"

your wings ruffled at the comment. you sniffed. "they’re sensitive."

"weird," bakugou muttered under his breath. for a split second, you considered smacking him with your wing, but you stopped yourself before you could execute the instinct.

your cab pulled up by the sidewalk. "that’s my ride." you smiled and waved to him as you entered the car. somewhere during the 15 minute car ride, you mustered up the courage to finally text bakugou.

who knew he was so dirty-minded, anyway? you leaned back in your car seat, exhaling. thankfully, you didn’t text the wrong number or prematurely end the conversation. so, now you were friends with a pro-hero, or so you assumed (friends texted each other, right?). the you from 10 years ago would be jumping for joy at the prospect of befriending a pro-hero, and here you were. you finally booked a therapy session for saturday at 3pm. you checked into the lobby ten minutes early, just as your parents had taught you, and took a seat in the lobby.

when it was finally your turn, you found yourself back in hitomi's office, the familar scent of vanilla and fresh linen wafting in the air.

"i hope you don't mind the scent," she said.

you shook your head. "it's fine." the fragrance was almost reassuring in a way, but you couldn’t pin point it. this time, you allowed yourself to drink in your surroundings. hitomi’s office was spacious, a large window overlooking tokyo’s snow-covered cityscape adding onto the effect. the walls followed a vertical gradient pattern of mint green and light blue decorated with paintings, hanging plants, and wooden shelves yet not in a cluttered way. in the center, against a wall, was a white couch. it had an oddly calming aura to it, as if you'd stepped into a dream outside reality.

"would you like an apple? or some water?" hitomi offered.

you weren’t really in the mood for either, but accepted the water. she gestured for you to sit on the couch.

the meeting consisted of her asking and you answering, the topic changing from family life, to your quirk, to your feelings.

"so, can you explain your quirk to me?" hitomi asked.

"well..." you gathered your thoughts. "obviously, i have wings like an angel. they don’t really do anything, though, just get sensitive to the weather. i used to have a halo when i was young, but it’s faded by now. dunno why. let’s see...." you paused. "i guess i have an inclination to help others? it’s hard for me to say no to things, honestly."

"is it because of your quirk?"

"probably," you admitted. "i’ve always been like this, i think."

"can you fly with your wings?"

"no." you sipped your water. "i guess i never learned. i’d try, but i don’t think they can support my body weight."

"how do you feel about your quirk?"

you shrugged, but then regretted it. you didn’t want to seem insensitive to all the quirkless people who could only wish for a quirk. "it’s- it’s cool, i guess. it makes me unique..." you thought back to your parents’ words, how they’d praised you for such an amazing quirk. when you used to feel bad about your quirk, they’d always remind you that there were children who’d wish to even have a quirk at all, and that you were special. your mother’s quirk allowed her to shine small rays of light through her fingertips, while your dad’s quirk gave him a wing attached to his left arm. it was pretty much useless for anything other than generating wind, considering he didn’t have a right wing to balance him out. their quirks together worked out just right to create you, their perfect angel. hitomi jotted something on her notepad.

the more you thought of it, the more you felt broken. you'd been doing therapy with hitomi for months now, and it had gotten harder and harder to emotionally process. your parents, your family, your quirk; you now saw the things for what they were.

your parents had used you. you were their doll, their perfect obedient angel, and it disgusted you. your hands felt tainted, your wings heavy weights on your back. you were revolted by yourself; looking in the mirror, you couldn't help but gag, seeing not the you of now, but the you of the past looking back at you. you couldn't sleep; tossing and turning and ruffling your wings in frustration. you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, how they restricted you from everything.

you wondered how it'd be different if your parents were better. you wondered if you'd gotten into ua and strengthened your quirk. you wondered how your reputation as a pushover would change. maybe you'd be a hero right now, helping others instead of being so irreparably broken. you could hear the catcalls from your classmates like bullets beating your wings. angel, the goody-two-shoes who couldn't say no.

not once did you cry. maybe you felt too disgusted by yourself. maybe bakugou was becoming the best friend you'd ever had.

he was there for you. making spicy curry or those awful, equally spicy instant korean noodles - he was there for you, in the same way milk is there for you when eating a particularly spicy dish. he listened to you, and you did the same for him. you laughed and joked together. somehow, in such a dark time, your friendship bloomed. it was strange, really. his reputation as a hero made him out to be aggressive and careless - and while he could brash in word choice at times, you knew he had a good heart. at one point, you’d even opened up to him about your past.

"then deku just completely f- messed up the mission! i could’ve blown up the damn guy, but he had to play mr. goody-two-shoes and just tie him up. and he got all the interview time. what’s even up with that?!"

he talked about his friends a lot. he'd deny his relationship with them being something other than strictly professional, but the way his crimson eyes would deepen gave it all away. he mainly spoke of deku and red riot (though their names would be referenced in cruder ways).

"what if- what if i was a hero?" you asked suddenly.

bakugou lifted an eyebrow. "you'd be a damn good hero if you could manage your quirk. like hawks."

"you think the public would like me?"

"duh. you're pretty, kind, AND fight villains? pretty badass. hell, if i approve of you, anyone would."

you smiled.

"why, though?" bakugou asked.

"curious. i, um, used to want to be a hero. growing up."

"your quirk has potential." bakugou leaned back on the couch. "why didn't ya become one?"

"parents." you flinched as the word passed your lips. thinking about your parents was painful, as if you had to rip off a month old bandaid before you could even get their faces into your mind. "they just... worried," you said. you didn't say anything else.

"betcha couldn't come up with a hero name as damn awesome as ground zero." "i could barely remember it," you teased.

"though, i must say, i do like enko as a hero name. it's like i'm joining an idol group."

"akb48 has nothing on you though," bakugou said.

you flushed. "i-i don't think you've looked at them properly, then."

"nah, i have, ochaco's obsessed with idol groups. don't doubt me, enko~" his voice was dangerously close, but he hadn't moved an inch from his original spot. "you're prettier than all the idols combined. tch, how low do you think my standards are?!"

"they're idol groups, bakugou, they practically rely on visuals!"

"eh? who cares? you've beaten them in looks and personality."

the thing about bakugou was that he was always completely honest with his thoughts. his integrity always amazed you, but then again, he was a pro-hero. you were quick to change the subject. "um- then-- what time is it? it must be getting late. i should get home-"

bakugou frowned. "it's late, idiot. eat before you go. i have some leftover tonkatsu and rice, and i can whip up the miso-"

"n-no, it's fine bakugou, you don't need to-"

"idiot, i can't have you starve to damn death on the ride home. eat."

even if you wanted to protest, you couldn't. bakugou's cooking was always to good to pass up, alarmingly spicy or not.

"the rice is still warm in the rice cooker," bakugou finally said, turning towards the kitchen. he knew you'd follow him, and you did.

bakugou busied himself making some instant miso soup and reheating the tonkatsu. you prepared yourself for the spicy of bakugou's tonkatsu; you'd had it once before, and it was quite painful. finally done, bakugou sat to the side of you eating tonkatsu as well, seasoning his with extra chili flakes. he was positively crazy; how did he handle such spice?

you cut yourself a strip and brought it to your lips. the tonkatsu was surprisingly tame for bakugou's cooking; it could've passed for normal restaurant tonkatsu.

"thish ish good," you said in between bites.

"i know," he gritted out, but he looked proud. "would be better with chili."

you shook your head, smiling. "never in a million years."

it was often you thought of this moment. it was so happy, so complete. it was just you and bakugou, simply being. right now, a genuine smile was something you couldn't curl your lips into, no matter how hard you tried. when you did, the taste of something salty crept into you mouth.

something salty...?

you touched your face. it was wet. your head spun, and then it dawned on you: you were crying. you were crying? your eyes focused, and pain throbbed in your head. lights shone too bright on you, heightening your headache, and a foul taste lingered in your mouth. you were suddenly aware of something solid in your hand: a drink.

something else you were aware of was how much you wanted to go home. you could barely remember what led you to a club as you fumbled in your purse for your phone, glancing at the time and unlocking the screen. all you needed to do was go home. you really wanted to go home, but where was home? home was gone. home...

a fresh wave of tears glossed your face, and you ignored the person next to you's advances. you didn't even know why you were crying. you struggled to read your contacts, dizzy, and called the first one you can make out with your hazed vision.

bakugou.

yes, all you wanted right now was bakugou. you wanted him and his warm arms, his endearing words. you wanted him so bad. you wanted him, and his warmth, and his happiness. you wanted his scent of comfort, the smile that made you feel fuzzy. you wanted his voice to shelter you precisely at that moment, you wanted to feel like it was him and you against the world.

"dumbass? hello? where are you? why is it so freaking loud? enko?"

you hadn't realized that a low quality projection of his voice was speaking on your phone.

"b-bakugou," you said, though it came out hoarsely. "bakugou."

"enko? where are you, and why are you calling at ass o'clock in the morning?"

"miss you," you almost said, but instead it came out as "dunno, you," a mix between "dunno" and "miss you."

"eh? where are you?"

you shrugged. "come here."

"send me your location, moron, and stay where you a-"

you hung up to send him your location.

you yawned and rubbed your forehead. everything was loud, everyone was together. and you were alone. it made you sad. you wanted to have somebody. a voice in the back of your head told you that you had bakugou. did you? right, he was coming. did you tell him to come?

you pressed the call button again.

"what is it?" bakugou asked roughly.

"lonelyyyy..." you moaned. "pick me up, baku...."

"idiot, i'm on my way. why the fuck are you so far from where you live?"

"hmm mmmhm," you strung together sounds. "'m sad."

"don't be." he sounded mad. he always sounded mad.

"why are you always mad at me?" you pouted.

"i'm not, dumbass! i'm pulling in."

"hmmm...!"

bakugou almost tore through the door with rage. "ENKO, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE."

you hopped toward him, wobbling a bit. the floor seemed to turn under you. enko! that was you! right?

"bakuuugoooou~" you cooed, flopping into his arms. "let's sleep."

he smelled nice. his scent enveloped you, a mix of vanilla and caramel that you’d grown so accustomed to.

he stiffened. "dumbass, i can smell the alcohol on you, we’re going the fuck home."

"don’ wanna," you whined. "lonely. wanna be with youuuuu..." you nuzzled more into his chest, finding comfort in his body warmth. you didn’t want to let go, ever. "tch, fine."

the car ride to bakugou’s place was uncomfortable. cars spun by you, lights making you woozy. you almost bashed your head on the dashboard. your seat was uncomfortable, the seatbelt itched you. despite all that, you stopped to stare at bakugou in your daze, all serious and set on the road. he had nice biceps, and his side profile was a sight for sore eyes (see also: your eyes).

"what, enko?" he grunted, glancing at you.

you said the first thing that came to your mind. "you know you smell nice?"

"huh?" he glanced at you, turning in to his driveway.

well, there was no going back now. "you smell like caramel... and vanilla... it’s nice..." you sighed happily, imagining the fragrance.

bakugou didn’t reply, instead parking and unlocking the doors. "get out, dumbass, it’s past your bedtime."

"but i don’t haaaaaave a bedtime," you slurred, stumbling out of the car. bakugou mumbled a complaint before hoisting you over his shoulder. it was probably not the best move, considering the blood rushing to your head made you feel sick. after entering his house, bakugou set you down on a sofa, sitting you upright.

"stay here."

you leaned back on the sofa, feeling suddenly empty. the buzz in your head had not quite left, but the weight of the world came crashing down again. therapy, your parents, your quirk. it struck you that you were probably bothering bakugou and disturbing his sleep; he was a pro-hero after all, lives depended on his health. but here you were, ever so selfish and probably taking a toll on his health.

"drink." you hadn't realized bakugou had put a glass of water in your hands. you simply nodded and gulped it down, hoping to sober yourself up.

you stared at the man glossy eyed, glass in your hand half empty. "bakugou."

"eh?"

"sorry."

"for what?"

"y'know... waking you up... bothering you... i know you're busy, and-"

"shut up, it doesn't matter. i'd rather you here than in the hands of some douche at the club."

"but still, how would i make it up-"

"by sleeping well. off to bed you go."

he started pushing you towards the hallway. "where will you sleep?"

"sofa."

"but bakugou-"

"go to bed."

"i feel sick-"

"hah?"

a rising sensation of bile emerged in your throat. the only words you could get out of your mouth was "bathroom," before you rushed in. it was not a pretty sight - you preferred to skim over the details when recalling it. the details you did not skim over, however, were that of bakugou's care; for being awoken at ungodly hours in the morning, he was surprisingly gentle with your vomiting state, soothing your stomach with warm hands and rubbing your back. after, he gave you a glass of water and forced you to take ibuprofen, though you swore you felt fine.

bakugou's bed was surprisingly comfortable. then again, bakugou did claim to have gone to bed at 8:30 sharp daily during his high school years, so it made sense he still valued sleep.

you were then reminded how you disrupted his.

and how you were now forcing him to sleep on the sofa.

you padded out of his room, wearing one of bakugou's old shirts that he'd graciously lended you, to the living room. he was laying on his back, feet sticking out of the sofa, eyes closed.

"what?" he asked, eyes still shut.

you knew he wouldn't let you feel guilty about intruding his sleep, so you settled upon saying the next best thing. it was partially true, anyway.

"'m lonely without you." your voice came out smaller than intended.

"huh?" he sat up, groggily looking at you.

"it's- kinda cold, and y'know, with your quirk..."

he grunted and obliged, walking toward his bedroom. you stood behind him, staring at his back; that was surprisingly easy.

bakugou slept with his arms around you, so you were nestled comfortably into his chest. this position felt strangely domestic; something lovers might do nightly. but you and bakugou weren't lovers, you were friends. image of you and bakugou involved romantically faded into your mind; coffee shop dates, cooking together, waking up next to each other. there was a sudden loss of breath in your chest, as if your heart had become weightless and was lifted by a thousand of butterflies taking flight. bakugou... romantically? it hadn't crossed your mind. still, you could see it so vividly in your mind; you, becoming his dumbass, his and his only. you could imagine how he'd look at you, full of love in his eyes, and how he'd gently kiss your forehead in the morning. was it so bad to want that? the more your thoughts indulged you, the more his body warmth drowsed you, his calm breathing adding to the effect. he was practically nyquil in human form. you found yourself nodding off in his arms, not before mumbling a quiet "what if i liked bakugou?" and clutching his shirt closer to you.

you were far too engrossed in the realm of sleep to hear bakugou's faint but hopeful reply of "i'd hope so, dumbass."

at your next therapy meeting, you told hitomi about bakugou. it was unplanned, spilling out of your mouth as soon as she asked why you looked so anxious. you couldn't like bakugou. you blamed your slightly intoxicated past self for planting such a thought in your brain, but you knew it just admitted a lingering feeling from in your heart. you spared her the details of the throwing up and the guilt that gnawed at you regarding how bakugou cared for you.

"it's... childish, right? like an old schoolgirl crush," you flushed, finishing your confession.

hitomi shook her head. "it's good to feel this way, actually. it's quite healthy for a twenty-something like you to harbour such feelings; it allows you to explore your feelings and relationships healthily."

even so, crushing was so damn frustrating. it's one thing to like a person; it's a completely different experience after admitting to yourself, yes, they're my crush. when you were younger, you very rarely developed crushes (as influenced by your parents) and even less were able to act on them. but now, as an adult, you had the freedom to act (or not, considering how your nerves constantly started to act up around bakugou). you decided to push the feelings down; you were just friends, and bakugou had no time to pursue a romantic relationship.

if having a crush was like an addiction, rehab was torture for you. gone were the days of seeing bakugou as platonic; you couldn't stop your heart from swelling whenever he recounted his day to you. bakugou had now become attractive, from his tight, bulging muscles to his hard chest. it did not help that you had to see him in his hero costume flaunting those features every other day on the news.

you convinced yourself bakugou harboured nothing but platonic sentiment for you, but he never failed to send your heart aflutter with discreet compliments he hid under rough comments. you started leaving early whenever the two of your hung out under the guise of other plans (that in reality didn't exist), and tried to always cut conversations short when you bumped into each other in public. he was ground zero, pro-hero, and you were just a civilian who could barely maintain their quirk.

you were just starting your quirk therapy, but you couldn't expect major changes a week in. bakugou had said your wings looked brighter, but you assumed he just said that to make you feel better. you could hover off the ground for less than a second now, but your wing strength lacked too much to be able to do anything requiring more strength. your halo was still absent, and you couldn't figure out how to make it reappear. there hadn't been much research done on the essence of halos; hitomi said not to worry about it regardless.

flap flap flap.

"oi, dumbass, you're gonna create a tornado in here."

flap flap flap.

"i'm practicing flying."

"well, you're going nowhere. d'you want me to call hawks or something?" flap flap flap.

you turned to bakugou, folding your wings neatly. he had the same expression as always, slightly disapproving and tired. your eyes meet his momentously; but they fall down immediately to his lips. lately, this kind of thing had been happening often. bakugou acted like he didn't notice you'd been different lately, but you could tell he wanted an explanation.

you acted on your impulse, your mouth opening and words tumbling from your mouth.

"bakugou- idon'twanttoruinourfriendshipbutijustwannasayitnow- ilikeyou."

"what?" why did you do that?

if this were a texting conversation, you'd leave him on read. if this was a tweet, you'd make your account private. if this was a video call, you'd end it.

alas, this was real life, so you resorted to the next closest thing: you ran. you ran faster than any shoujo girl and with more conviction than any shounen boy, and then you were lost. damn cities.

panting on the sidewalk, wings heaving up and down, you realized what you did. staring at the edge of the pavement, where the curb met the street, hands on your knees, it hit you.

you cussed and yelled at yourself mentally, and though a small part doubted bakugou even heard you, you didn’t allow yourself to have hope. it was game over. you let your feelings override rational thought, and you ruined what was arguably the best thing going on in your life.

you were interrupted by an itch in your feathers from being so cramped while folded. they ruffled against the cool air, distraught. you stretched them out, observing your surroundings and allowing yourself to cool down. the breeze was a satisfying sensation against your feathers, and you hovered just a moment when they flapped.

"mommy, wings!" a kid passes you on the sidewalk, pointing. his mother hushes him, but you smile at him.

the next few days were rough, particularly because you were avoiding bakugou. it was definitely not a good idea, but it was a temporary patch over the open part of your heart.

this was not one of your healthy coping mechanisms.

did he text you? did he call you? you didn’t know, because you turned off your notifications. you knew you were just making things more awkward, even more so if he hadn’t heard you at all. it gave you all the more excuse to ignore him longer.

now, with evenings to yourself, your mind wandered more. your thoughts drifted into a vast desert of tangled constellations in your mind, tightropes you’d tread that would lead you to a random destination. sometimes it led you to random memories - other times, it wasn’t as random, leading you to painful manifestations in your heart. these were the things you tried so hard to ignore, but rang so true.

you were reminded by the constellations in your mind that you were being terribly selfish to bakugou; not even considering his feelings. bakugou didn't deserve you. maybe stars twinkled in your mind, but the bluest ones burned you to the touch. you needed to get over bakugou.

that wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, trying to get over bakugou. the stars in your mind dimmed, and perhaps, at one point, the constellations were reduced to thread; knotted, tangled, and hopeless.

maybe it was better when the string had been unkempt, because now it unraveled. you cried, and cried; in the shower, at your desk, doing chores. tears, hot and sharp like newly shapen diamonds, dripped down your face. your face was permanently marked by the wounds the diamonds left, and contrary to the stars, your eyes were red and hot. your thoughts unwound like string - there was a clear pathway now, but it was tainted by the shape of the knots there had once been.

everything hurt when you thought of bakugou. your swollen eyes became lifeless as memories of him overtook you. they controlled you. you missed therapy session after session, too scared to go to the place which bakugou had connected you to. sometimes, you’d sprawl across the ground, stare into your ceiling, and feel yourself vanish into something, a dark void of nothingness. he had cared so much for you - too much. why had he? why couldn’t he have left you, that one day you were almost robbed? why couldn’t you just have stayed the way you were? why did you have to find the truth in things? ignorance was a bliss you woke yourself from. ignorance, the dream which from you woke to find a nightmare, reality. why did he have to be him, the stupid pro-hero with a heart that bled kindness into yours? why couldn’t he have stayed a two-dimensional public figure, the careless and angry ground zero? why did he have to be in your goddamn life and ruin it, entangle everything into one big mess? you hated him. you hated him and his stupid endearing insults, him and his rugged smirk that pained your heart so, him and his eyes that held sparks and diamonds and you. deep inside, you knew it wasn’t true; hate was just a name for an indefinably strong feeling you had for him. you knew you didn’t hate him, you knew you couldn’t hate him. you told yourself you did to distance yourself from him. the distance between you and he only grew. your memories were tarnished with pain, his image blurry and wrinkled in your eyes. katsuki bakugou was just someone, no one.

this was the feeling of agony, this was the sight of pure hell, and this was the sound of you burning your heart. distance between you and the man named katsuki bakugou grew, as did your descent into pure madness.

until the distance between you and he was less than a metre.

you had not bothered to tame your hair; it was a bit overgrown and sprouted a couple split ends. you were dressed in a stained shirt, your face not even mentionable, and your heart was beating in your ears. you felt yourself dragged quite forcefully down to sanity, as if opening the door suddenly put gravity into effect.

because here he was, katsuki bakugou in all of his perfect glory, standing on your doorstep.

the little shit refrained from making a comment about your current state, but you could see the comment appearing in his eyes and vanishing as soon as it came. you watched his eyes go from the state of your face down to your unkempt attire. he, on the other hand, looked unaffected. he was sporting a t-shirt and jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. the only indicator, which was minuscule at best, that he had changed at all was the red at the corners of his eyes and slight eyebags. he looked shocked at the sight of you.

"y/n..." you almost fainted on the spot.

you weren’t not jumping for joy in ecstasy at the sight of him, and you didn’t feel like a shoujo protagonist at the moment. it was something different.

"again," but your voice was too hoarse to be heard. your mouth opened and closed, you coughed, and repeated yourself. "s-say it again."

"huh?!" it was nice to know someone hadn’t changed after all that time.

"my- my name..."

"eh? enko."

you sighed, your face indifferent. you weren’t exactly disappointed by his reply; it brought memories upon memories of happier times with him.

"well, what do you want?" you asked, rubbing the side of your face.

"what- what the fuck is going on?" he gestured to you. "i should be asking about you. what the f- what happened to you?!"

"i-"

"enko, i don’t get any of this shit. this relationship crap. what do you want me to do?! first, you act weird as shit- because of what?! i don’t fuckin’ know. you avoid me - don’t think i didn’t notice - and then suddenly you spew shit and leave?! i don’t see you for a goddamn week, you don’t answer your damn calls or texts, and suddenly i’m the damn villain and i’m supposed to give you time or shit to figure things out, and when i can finally fucking see you, you look like actual crap?! hell, i should be the one with deteriorating mental health with all of the bull you put me through! if you want something, if you don��t wanna be friends or shit, just goddamn say it to my face! i’m not good with people, enko, goddamnit! tell me what’s wrong!"

you stood in shock. relationship..? you shook his words away. you hadn’t realized how much this took a toll on bakugou, too. he looked away - something glinted in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell exactly what.

"god-fucking-damnit," he grumbled. "...are ya gonna let me in, or what?! it’s cold out here!"

you didn’t think about how bakugou’s quirk involved producing heat, and let him in unreluctantly, stepping aside. "sorry," you mumbled.

he took off his shoes, and you motioned for him to sit down on your couch.

"explain it to me," he demanded. "what in the goddamn world has happened tot you? did someone do this to you?!"

you refrained from saying technically, it was you, and settled on: "no." it was apparent he hadn’t heard you that day. "just- it’s nothing. i was being stupid, a-and i’m okay now." it was a lie.

"do you take me as an idiot?" he asked. gears shifted in his eyes. "sit down," he said, suddenly calm.

you did so, sitting as farthest as you could from him.

"closer," he gritted out. you scooted a centimetre. "closer." another centimeter. "clo-ser." he pulled you so you were sitting angled toward him, knee brushing his.

"baku...gou?" so many questions flashed in your mind.

"confirm something for me," he ordered. "what exactly did you say to me before running away?"

"i- nothing. it was nothing, i told you, bakugou."

"tell. me. i don’t care if you quoted freud, told me a failed joke, or what. tell me."

your mind was devoid of possible jokes you could use to lie.

you opened your mouth, forcing the words out with all your might. "i don’t remember the specifics," you rambled. "i don’t think i was in the right state of mind-"

"spit it out."

"i think it went something like ‘i like you’ or something?" your pitch rose with every syllable.

"tch," a smile was on his face. "thought so." his hand was suddenly on your cheek, and his lips were on yours. he tasted like caramel. your eyes widened, and you pulled away, sputtering.

"what? what d’you mean, ‘thought so’?!"

"idiot, i like you too. also, when did you last brush your teeth?"

"i- that doesn’t matter. bakugou... i don’t think that this relationship is good for us. as friends or whatnot."

"huh? why not?"

"look at me. look at you. i can barely handle my quirk, and you’re a pro-hero who uses his quirk to help people. i can’t really do anything."

he mumbled something under his breath. "enko, do you think i care about any of that? i don’t care if you have the strongest quirk in the world or none at all. you’re strong - and i don’t say this ‘cause i like you - you’re kind, you see the best in people." he paused. "people don’t give me the time of day ‘cause they think i’m too irrational. brash. careless. but you? you see past that, you don’t care. you work hard no matter what people say. people-" his voice caught in his throat, "people say shit to you, and you don’t care. you keep going."

he saw you... like that? your face heated up.

"don’t be gettin’ all shy on me," he grunted. "tch. come here." he pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you and narrowly avoiding your wings. you flushed, holding him tight and inhaling his caramel scent. you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing to hold him like this forever.

“hey, enko,” he whispered into your ear. you looked at him, who was currently looking up and pointing. “halo.”

661 notes · View notes

dreamnotnapper · 3 years

Text

ok, listen. i will gladly hivemind about many things, but one of the things i will never hivemind about is mcc

i am way too invested in that block game tournament to not have my own opinions, and trust me i have a Lot of opinions after sapnaps stream

(this will be very long, feel free to ignore. also, this is all typed up on mobile so i am so sorry)

the most prominent things is when he said he thinks he should be an s-tier, and when he said he thinks cyan is the best team

1. i dont think sapnap is an s-tier. god forbid i post this on twitter where everyone thinks he should be, but genuinely i dont. he is definitely the closest non s tier player to s tier, but i dont think hes s tier yet. i dont have stats on hand (bc im not a Nerd /j), but comparatively, sapnap isnt as good. hes one of the best pvpers and parkour players, yes. but hes pretty weak in build mart, rocket spleef and bingo, and hes decent at ace race and hole in the wall. a question we have to ask ourselves when ranking sapnap, is he at the same level as the other s-tiers? is he as good as pete, quig, fruit, techno, and dream? so far, all current s-tiers have: won at least 1 mcc, had 1st individual at least once and have 3000+ average coins. sapnap has only achieved the first. another thing is that sapnap isnt balance the way an s-tier is balanced. most notably, pete, fruit and quig are all balanced with weaker teams. pete and fruit are commonly teamed with hermits, when not with hermits pete is with b tiers or below, and quig is usually put on for fun teams (techno hasnt played in a canon mcc in a while so i cant rly say how hes balanced nowadays). sapnap isnt balanced this way, he isnt put on weaker teams. if anything, hes put on teams where someone else helps take up a leader role. mcc15, he'll most likely co-lead with dream, mcc14 he had punz, mcc13 he had dave krtzyy, (i dont remember his mcc12 team), mcc11 he had dream, etc.

so sapnap hasn't gotten 1st individual or 3000+ average coins, and scott doesnt balance him the way he balances the other s-tiers therefore i dont think sapnap is an s-tier. however, if he continues improving the way he is now, i believe he will be s-tier eventually. dont say that i'm too hard on him and that my requirements are too harsh because i'm a firm believer that once a player is s-tier, they dont leave (unless they just fuck up that bad, in multiple consecutive mccs)

2. i think sapnaps prediction of cyan being 1st is wrong. first of all, theres a reason why nearly the entire subreddit predicts cyan to be lower on the leaderboard, and its not because the subreddit is biased or playing an elaborate prank. i think both sapnap and dream really overestimate cyans abilities, especially with 2 new players. both dream and sapnap agreed that wisp is cracked, 5up is cracked, antfrost isnt bad, and scott is decent. the stats kind of do tell a different story though. again, i dont have the stats on hand, i only have what i remember from posts ive seen on the subreddit so take what i say here with a grain of salt. i dont think wisp is as cracked as dreamnap think he is. wisp has only played in (iirc, and if the subreddit was correct) 3 events, and his first 2 were very average with his mcc14 performance being the outlier. another thing is that they have two new players. that is not going to be easy. when you look at new players that joined after mcc began getting more competitive, youll see that they always underperform during their debut mcc. take illumina, for example. illumina is one of the best speedrunners in minecraft. he spent hours practicing and studying vods to optimize his performance. iirc, his first mcc he got 17th. that is already impressive, especially for a debut but his next placement was 5th. that is a huge improvement. 5up and antfrost are no illuminas, they dont have the same skill that he does. if illumina couldnt get top 15 during his debut, there is no way 5up and antfrost will during theirs like dream and sapnap predicted they would. the last thing i wanted to say about this is that 5up can practice all he wants on the practice server. he can get himself acquainted with ace race mechanics and the environment of battle box and parkour tag, but the practice server =/= the real event. no amount of time on the practice server can prepare new players to the atmosphere and pressure of the real event

thats my rant over, thank you if you stuck around. also really sorry if you stuck around, i doubt my thoughts were very coherent as its 4:30am. but yeah, i just wanted to get my thoughts out because sapnap and dream discussing mcc predictions made me very frustrated. especially since their predictions were all based on their initial thoughts on the teams and absolutely zero statistical analysis. absolute himbos, the two of them /lh

#if youre reading this have a good day/night #make sure you hydrate and take care of yourself #mcc #idk if this is the kind of thing people will read in the mcc tag but its about mcc so im tagging it as that #enjoy whatever tf this was mcc tag lurkers #good night im so tired #》 storms ahead

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nimmy22 · 3 years

Text

A Mistake: Chapter 5

"Our encounters will only end once I say so. Now, answer this. Why were you limping?" Wesker watched through his shades as she flinched when his hand came to rest on her injured leg. He found this development displeasing. Someone trespassed on his right to be the only one to hurt her, to use her, to kill her. And correction was in order.

"What's it to you?" Cara hissed, slapping his hand away.

"Wrong answer dearheart, let's try again." His hand found her leg once more, and this time he gave a not-so-gentle squeeze. He flashed his pearly whites with a smirk, watching her grimace and suck a sharp breath. "Why were you limping?"

"I fell... down some s-stairs and hurt my...leg," she cried, looking away from him.

Wanting things over quickly, she hoped he would lose interest and leave her be. Why would he even care if someone laid a hand on her? Especially when he was still wavering between hot and cold on whether to kill her or not. If someone killed her, then Wesker should consider it a time well saved. She was beyond confused by this.

"Fell? Are you sure?" Wesker frowned, removing his shades. Cara had no idea why he even wore them while presenting...indoors. They seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face, but at least he took them off in the rain. She mentally kicked herself for spending a second analyzing the fashion sense of a corrupt officer. It will certainly not prolong her life.

Wesker suddenly drifted closer to her face with scrutinizing eyes. "I suppose you also hit your head in the fall?" He said before putting pressure over the bruise on her head. The more she struggled to turn her head, the harder he applied the pressure. She cursed her cheap foundation for having melted off within so little time, likely exposing her bruise. The humid weather wasn't helping her situation either, aiding the cream to melt off her skin.

"Stop it! It hurts. Please, I answered your question. what do you want now?"

Not many dared to bluntly lie to Wesker, and those who did were now entertaining earthly maggots as a free buffet. The little girl lied to him without shame, leaving him with the urge to loosen his collar as his blood began to simmer. He had to restrain himself, not wanting to smash.... his shades.

"Do you take me for a fool? You forget you're still dealing with a cop, and I can certainly tell the difference between physical violence and injuries from a fall. I've dealt with countless domestic violence and child abuse cases. Now, answer the question before I rip off those pants to confirm." Wesker growled, punching the garbage bin centimeters from her head. She squeaked like a mouse, shielding her head with her arms, folding into a fetal position. Peeking through her fingers, Cara spotted the dent he left in the metal and audibly swallowed. He could crush her skull if he wanted to and why he has yet to do so is beyond her.

"Ok fine! It was...my...dad, h-he...hit me. Happy now? But whose parents don't bring out the belt every now and then? It's not that big of a deal." Cara slanted her body away from him and fidgeted with her sleeve. Until this point, she had never admitted to anyone what went on at home behind closed doors. Not even her closest friend knew a thing. But she was forced to disclose one of her deepest secrets to this bastard just because he asked her nicely.

"I see." Wesker stood up, pondering something for a moment before walking back towards the school doors. Pausing by the door, he spoke without looking at her. "Clean yourself up and go back to the assembly. Then after that, I want you to walk across the street to the laundromat's parking lot. You will wait there for me."

"Why?" Cara swallowed, a cold feeling creeping over her like a heavy blanket. Wesker didn't answer, as he was already gone, and she was met with the sound of doors slamming shut. With a sigh, she wiped her tear-streaked cheeks with her clammy hands.

Raising to her wobbly feet, Cara straightened out her clothes, doing her best to clear the dust. There was no way to reduce the puffy eyes. She decided to play it off as being devastated for the poor boy who ended up an overcooked steak.

She was definitely in over her head, but without a choice, she was forced to do what he wanted. He already knew pretty much everything about her, her home, school, and family issues.

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

"You sure you don't want a ride home?" Claire said, hugging her friend tightly and being a major cause for much discomfort. She somehow managed to touch all Cara's painful bruises all at once, completely unaware. The two stood in the school parking lot, finished with school for the day.

"I'm fine, Claire, really. I just had a weak moment. Don't worry about me. I just need to have a little walk with some thinking time."

"I can come with,"

"No!" Cara jerked back before realizing what she did. Claire blinked, staring at her friend with her mouth open. "Oh shit, sorry. I mean...I want to...be alone for a while. You should go annoy your brother at work. He'll appreciate that."

"Are you ok? You're acting weird, not just today but this whole week. What's going on?" Cara felt more beads of sweat forming on her forehead with each question Claire asked. She needed to get away before she said something she shouldn't have.

"I'm fine, I swear. You're just reading too much into things." Cara said, backing away from her friend.

"Cara!" Claire called out, watching Cara hurry across the street. "What the heck is going on," she wondered aloud.

Claire was about to follow her when a hand roughly grabbed her shoulder. She spun around, ready to snap the fingers of the fool who dared grab her in such a manner.

"Miss Redfield, great seeing you." Wesker greeted her, his grip on her shoulder unmoving. Her eyes widened as she recognized the fool being her brother's boss.

"Oh...Captain Wesker. Um...Great presentation." Claire said, trying to shrug out of his hold. He let go, but very slowly. She didn't know why he was interacting with her this long. The most she ever got from Wesker was a nod or asking where Chris went after abandoning his desk for half an hour when he should've been doing paperwork. The answer was tacos she made herself and brought to the station for Chris.

"Thank you. I'm just hoping at least a few students will hold onto my words." Wesker responded, discreetly watching through his shades as Cara disappear from view. He simply couldn't have a foolish Redfield ruining his plans. "So where are you headed off to?"

"Uh... I was just about to head home," she said, pointing her thumb over to her motorcycle.

"Drive home safely. Wouldn't want your brother distracted on the job now, would we?" They both knew Chris would get distracted regardless, but she didn't like his tone when talking about her brother.

"No, of course not," Claire gave him a sweet smile, flapping him the bird behind her back. "Have a nice day, Captain Wesker."

"You as well, Miss Redfield." Wesker walked away, heading across the parking lot to his cruiser before driving off.

With a long sigh, Claire looked back to the direction her friend had run off to, but she was already long gone. Claire groaned, promising herself that she was not about to let this go. She owed Cara to be a good friend and help her sort out whatever she was going through. The next time she saw Cara, they were going to have a very good talk.

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

Cara stood in the parking lot of the laundromat, fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket. The little piece of metal was already bent in two places from her abuse. She was alone, the place had closed down months ago, its owner was an elderly lady who passed away. She had no children to inherit it, and so the place had to shut its doors. It would make sense why Wesker would want to pick her up here. Students had no reason to crowd this property, having a plaza on the other side of the road abundant in fast-food joints and an arcade.

The temperature hadn't changed drastically since the morning. Yet, she found herself shivering in her jacket and hugging it closer to her body. Her eyes kept darting about, dreading the imminent interaction. She hated the waiting, but she didn't want to find out what he had in store for her.

Wesker drove into the parking lot, eyes zeroed in on the pitiful creature shivering alone and looking misplaced. Good thing he was here to 'help her out.' He thoroughly enjoyed how she nearly bolted upon spotting the car. He stopped next to her and waited.

Cara waited for him to emerge from the car or to roll down a window to tell her what he wanted. He did neither of those things, and so she shut her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and reaching for the door handle of the passenger seat. Still saying nothing, she slid into the seat before shutting the door as hard as she could. Between them, the air freshener swung back and forth with greater momentum charged by the thick atmosphere.

"So nice of you to find the time for me, dearheart. I am flattered."

"Of course, With whom else could I see myself spending time?" she didn't bother asking where they were headed, knowing how far questions seemed to set her back with him.

They pulled up to a simplistic two-story home, its lawn cleanly kempt but lacking any other colorful vegetation. She couldn't help but think it was the end of the road for her when the garage door sealed shut behind them.

Leaving the car, he walked into the house, depositing his keys on a bowl by the door. Cara followed close behind but far enough to dodge an attack, or so she hoped. Walking by the deposited keys, her fingers itched to grab them, make a run for it, but her brain didn't feel like making the deadly mistake so soon into the day or... week. Biting her bottom lip, she followed him into the living room.

Like the outside of the house, the inside lacked color, instead opting for white and shades grey. All in all, it looked like the kind of place that will get very messy if someone were to get murdered in it. But that didn't put her at ease. She still had no idea what he wanted.

Cara's fingers were inches from touching a plain white vase when Wesker finally spoke. "Welcome to my home."

She snatched her hand back so fast, her shoulder almost popped out of its socket. She opened her mouth several times, but nothing came out.

"You...live here?" Finally, she managed to form a few words.

"I do not like repeating myself, but yes, I live here. Stay here. I will be back." Wesker left Cara in the living room, making his way upstairs. Passing several doors, he came across one that streamed a golden light from beneath. Knocking three times, pausing, and then twice more, he waited for the response. He smiled, hearing the sound of four subsequent knocks and a scratching sound. This was their code, a living memory of his army days.

The door opened and smiling up at him was Sherry. He accepted her into his open arms before picking her up. "Your back, uncle Albert."

"Yes, and I brought you a really nice present."

"What is it! ...a puppy?"

"No, try again."

"Is it a dinosaur? A game? A dress? A book? Is it edible?" Sherry filled her bubble with guesses, eyes twinkling. She rubbed her hands together as if the friction could make the surprise appear faster. She had been alone all day and bored out of her mind.

Wesker shook his head at her simple thinking but enjoyed her expressions.

Walking into the living room, Wesker felt Sherry's gasp shake her whole body. "Cara!" the little girl squeaked before jumping out of the older man's grasp. She raced to her babysitter, unable to believe her eyes.

Cara's expression transformed from a scowl to a tender smile upon noticing Sherry, eyes brimming with tears.

The little girl snuggled against Cara, relishing the comforting scent of her friend. Truly, she thought she was in heaven. "Thank you, Uncle Albert! This the greatest surprise ever!" Sherry beamed at her uncle, half her face smushed against Cara's chest.

"And it gets even better. Cara agreed to come play with us every day right after school." Wesker burst Cara's bubble with a rusted pin, killing all hope of escape.

Cara's smile immediately fell. She shot daggers at the older man who merely took a seat on the couch, legs spread wide apart as he rested his arms over the back of the couch.

"Really? I can't believe it! I am so happy. We can do so many things, Cara, not just on Friday nights."

"Y-you can't-" Cara stuttered, struggling against herself to end the happiness of a little girl. To Cara, disappointing Sherry was a terrifying thing, especially if she the very cause of it.

"Why don't you take her to play in your room?" Sherry was already leading Cara before the dirty cop finished his sentence.

"Wait, Sherry. You go on up, and I will um...come to play in a few minutes. I just need to talk to...Uncle Albert for a sec." Cara spat his name.

"Ok!" Sherry said, bouncing on her feet, and ran upstairs. Once the little girl's giggles grew distant, she turned to Wesker who was already watching her with the eyes of a lazy predator. His shades sat in front of him on the coffee table, neatly folded.

Cara couldn't help the tingling shiver as he watched her. She gathered her courage and stood up straight, forcing her nerves down before speaking, "What if I don't want to continue the job?"

Wesker laughed at the ridiculous proposal.

"And break the poor girl's heart? She has consistently asked for you every day, more so than for her own parents. Where is Cara? Is she ok? Can I visit her?"

"Stop using her against me! I don't want to get involved more than I already have with you."

"Sherry experienced horrible things that night, all because of who her parents are. So, if she wants her delicious babysitter back, then she will have her back. Simple." Wesker knew which buttons to press to get her to do exactly what he wanted. The fear factor wasn't everything, and it wouldn't last long. He knew she loved his niece like a little sister, and he will use that to secure a tight collar over her neck.

'A delicious babysitter.' For some reason, these words stood out to Cara, and she found herself unable to formulate a coherent sentence, feeling the temperature of the room rise rapidly.

"But why does it have to be here? In your house?"

"As much as I support my dear friend William, he can be a little too preoccupied with his work and often becomes disengaged from the outside world. He forgot to call anyone to fix the damages, and so the house has yet to be repaired. Until it's ready, Sherry will stay here, that is unless she chooses to stay indefinitely, which I don't mind at all. It's always too quiet around here."

Seeing no way out of this, Cara begrudgingly walked upstairs, defeat weighing down her steps. Her mood brightened a little while playing with Sherry, but she couldn't put her whole heart into it. Her choice was taken away, and she couldn't live with that. But in the end, she had to be grateful as this was still better than being murdered and stuffed into a dumpster or buried alive.

For now, she will do her best to make Sherry happy. The little girl has been through a lot already.

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

Hours later, Cara stood in front of the sink, swirling the cool water in her glass before gulping it down. She was halfway through the water when she felt something warm, soft, and feather-like touch the back of her neck. She spun around to see Wesker walking away, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. She barely registered the icy water spilling on her clothes as she realized what happened. Her stomach weaved knots, pulling them too tight to undo.

Wesker had kissed her neck. And then he just walked away as if nothing happened. This had to be the strangest trick her mind could play on her. Or was it? There was simply no way a man like him will ever be interested in her. Never.

It felt like a terrible joke, and yet, she found her hand touching her neck, a rosy blush making its way.

#resident evil #albert wesker #Albert Wesker X OC #albert wesker x oc

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panharmonium · 4 years

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I'm curious if you have any headcanon/any fic plans or just ideas about how Hunith learnt Will knew about Merlin's magic. Sorry if you already talked about it and has slipped out of my attention!

Oh my gosh, any message that asks me about Will or Hunith or Ealdor in any fashion makes me so happy; thank you!

I'll avoid drawing up an outline for an exact scenario, only because I am always writing more fic about Merlin’s pre-Camelot life and if I end up deciding to actually do this in a fic I’ll be mad at myself for already typing it all out in meta XD I will, however, talk about some general thoughts, because I do have solid opinions about certain aspects of this whole thing (all my own, obviously; folks are free to imagine this in different ways - these are just my own personal inferences from the canon we’re given).

Putting this under a cut because it got long - you always write me such detailed notes that I wanted to be thorough! <3

So! Here are some of my thoughts about how Hunith learnt that Will knew about Merlin’s magic.

i. it was not careless.

In my opinion, Will and Merlin, by the age where we meet them in canon, are not out there goofing around with Merlin’s magic in risky ways. It doesn’t make sense for Merlin, who is old enough to understand the dangers to his own life and who is also desperately committed to making sure his mother never finds out that Will is in the know (because Merlin knows it won’t go well), and it definitely doesn’t make sense for Will, who, despite his fanon reputation for mischief, is...not actually shown to be like that in canon.

I talked before in my big meta dump about Will that I very much do not read the “he’s always been a troublemaker” line to be indicative of the “pranks and shenanigans” theme that I tend to see in a lot of fic. The “troublemaker” line, in context, is not referring to Will causing mischief; it’s about Will’s inability to shut his mouth and stop stirring the pot, in the sense of him yelling about stuff that nobody else wants to think about; it’s about him not being able to put his head down and go with the flow. It’s immediately followed by the line “they’re used to ignoring him,” and what we’re being told here is that Will is the cousin who can’t stop himself from getting political at the holiday dinner table even when the rest of the family is begging him to let them have one single meal in peace. He cannot let things go, and the rest of his neighbors are completely sick of it (see: Hunith’s ZERO patience with Will when he challenges Arthur in front of the community).

Canon Will, in contrast to some fanon interpretations, is actually a very intense, guarded person? He’s suspicious and pragmatic and risk-averse. And I just think it’s important to remember that Will, in his current situation, does not have a lot of time to be messing around. He was orphaned and left to run a whole homestead as a child. That’s like...he’s doing the work of an entire family. Life in Ealdor already leaves little room to slack off, and Will is completely overburdened - somebody in his situation would be desperately busy, almost all of the time, and always on the verge of a potential disaster, if he fell behind on anything.

So I just don’t read him as someone who is out doing silly things with Merlin in a way that got them discovered by Hunith. Like - Merlin isn’t careless enough to be goofing off in his own house, for example, and Will isn’t a character who’s daring Merlin to do foolish things for the fun of it. Merlin is comfortable using his magic around Will, definitely, and we know he’s had at least one mishap in the past (the tree), but at this point in their lives, I don’t see either of them as frivolous or clueless enough to use magic in a way that could get them caught by anyone, or for the purpose of risky/trivial games.

ii. merlin was the one who let it slip

I personally think the lead-up to Hunith discovering Will’s involvement was preceded by two things:

an increase in external stressors (related to the political situation between Camelot and Cenred’s kingdom), making Merlin’s position in Ealdor progressively more precarious/dangerous

Merlin becoming increasingly frustrated, rebellious, and unwilling to hide himself the way his mother wanted him to

The first point is something that I've incorporated into fic, so I think @blueclaw7 is already familiar with it :) But essentially, when I was collecting info on Ealdor and Cenred's kingdom prior to a previous fic-writing endeavour, there were a few things that led me to wonder just what sort of trouble was brewing in that corner of the world, prior to Merlin's departure:

We know that Cenred makes agreements with slave traders, allowing them to work certain areas of his land without interference (see: Cenred's discussion with Morgause about Jarl in 3.12 - “He's been working our western border for months...We have an understanding.”) Cenred likely would not allow this unless it benefited him in some way, so I think we can safely assume that he is receiving some sort of kickback from allowing slavers to operate in his kingdom, either in the form of financial compensation or perhaps by having people like Jarl on-call in case Cenred himself needs specific targets rounded up.

We also know that sometime prior to 1.10, Cenred's kingdom and Camelot signed some sort of peace treaty, which according to Uther was “years in the making.” We're not told how long the two kingdoms had been enemies before that, but my personal interpretation is that they have been at odds for a long time, because the peace treaty doesn’t appear to be very successful - by 2.12, Uther says, “Our treaty with Cenred no longer holds. We are at war,” despite the fact that we actually haven't even met Cenred in the show yet and he hasn't attacked Camelot or anything (he doesn't agree to do that until Season 3, when Uther is incapacitated and the kingdom is weak). Uther also later refers to Cenred as Camelot’s “sworn enemy.” So the treaty just appears to have been a temporary, shaky peace between kingdoms that are frequently in conflict, the terms of which we are not privy to.

We know that Uther “offers a handsome reward for anyone with magic” (2.09, when the bounty hunter shows up with Freya), and we know that normal people will turn others over to bounty hunters for their own benefit (“How did he find you?” / “You can't always trust people.”)

We know that Aredian (the witchfinder) has been operating “in foreign lands” (aka, not Camelot).

So, the question I asked myself was this: why would Cenred and Uther even agree to a peace treaty in the first place, when their kingdoms are clearly constantly at odds with one another? And looking at the other tidbits of information above, the framework I constructed for myself was that I personally think part of the aforementioned treaty involves Cenred turning people with magic over to Uther - and perhaps allowing Uther's agents over the border to do their own hunting - in exchange for some kind of compensation (probably financial). We know Cenred is greedy (he's aiming to conquer Camelot even though he is, per his own words, “rich and powerful already”), and we know he canonically has the means to give Uther what he wants (agreements with slave traders working within his borders). And given that the treaty appears to have been a fairly recent development in 1.10, my personal read is that this treaty was signed sometime before Merlin left Ealdor, and that it prompted an uptick in dangerous activity that frightened Merlin's mother and made her more willing to send him away. Bounty hunters nabbing people on the road, slave traders being given the freedom to operate without interference, rumors of single agents like the Witchfinder roaming the countryside - all of this would lead to the far more immediate concern of “what happens if somebody in Ealdor thinks Merlin might be magic and decides to make a quick shilling by turning him in????”

I think that is Hunith's biggest concern. Ealdor is poor. And Merlin himself says his departure was prompted by not being able to trust the people around him. When Freya tells him, “you can't always trust people,” he replies, “I know. That's why I left home.” And if there were suddenly a higher demand for people with magic, due to Cenred and Uther's arrangement, then there would be more incentive for regular people to look for a way they could turn it to their advantage, especially if they've already been conditioned to see magic as an evil/dangerous thing.

I think this leads to Hunith being even more cautious, and putting even tighter restrictions on Merlin re: where he can go and when he can be out and who he can go wandering around with, and even on using magic for little things at home where no one can see. And the problem with this is that Merlin won't tolerate it anymore, not the way he did when he was younger. Not because he doesn't want to listen to her or because he doesn't understand that she's trying to help him, but because he just can't. He can't. It's killing him. He tells Gaius in 1.01, “if I can't use magic, I might as well die,” and that’s not just him being dramatic; he really feels that way. He doesn’t just have magic, he is magic. He can't suppress it that way, without feeling like he's killing himself.

So, to bring us back around to the point of this segment - I think what ends up happening is that Merlin starts pushing back on Hunith’s restrictions, not so he can goof around and do stupid things, but so he can live his life in a way that doesn't make him feel like he's suffocating, so he can just be, without feeling like his entire existence is a crime. I think the increased pressure drives him more and more frequently to Will, the only person around whom Merlin can exist as a complete person, and I think he becomes increasingly resistant to his mother's directives, and I think his mother gets more and more frustrated with him, because she sees it as him needlessly risking his life, but Merlin is tired of hearing that he can't trust anybody, because he CAN trust somebody; he has somebody to trust right now and he’s had them for ages, and he doesn't think things have to be so dire all the time, if his mother would just see that, but she won't -

And then, when his frustration reaches a boiling point, Merlin accidentally spills the beans.

I don't think Hunith walks in on Merlin doing magic in front of Will, personally. I think Merlin slips up and tells her, in the course of their increasingly frequent, tense conflicts between “you can't trust ANYBODY/things are too dangerous” and “i CAN trust somebody/i can’t live like this anymore.”

I think he lets it slip in an argument, as a frustrated justification for “it doesn't have to be like this all the time; things could be better; will's known about it for X years and nothing bad has ever happened to me.”

And then, of course, it goes very, very badly.

Which brings us to Point #3 -

iii. it was a Disaster.

What I mean by this is that Hunith discovering that Will knew about Merlin’s magic was not a chill situation. It did not go over well, and it created an interpersonal crisis between the three of them that persists all the way into 1.10.

We’ve already heard canon confirmation of this - “when she found out you knew, she was SO angry” - and it’s obvious that this conflict was never resolved. I’ve already talked in another post about Hunith’s weird disinterest in/disapproval of Will in favor of Arthur (even after Will’s death!), and Will clearly isn’t feeling very generous with her in 1.10, either - they only interact once, when Hunith snaps at Will to “keep quiet” after he challenges Arthur in front of the village, and after that, they never talk again. They never go anywhere near each other, in fact.

I know fandom likes to headcanon Hunith as the ultimate mom who is super generous with everyone and would instantly adopt all of Merlin’s friends out of an overabundance of motherly love, but 1.10 tells a very different story about her relationship with Will, and it’s clearly not a completely new issue. Merlin knew his mother wouldn’t react well to finding out that he’d shared his secret with Will. It’s why he lied in the first place. Whatever the relationship between the three of them was before the reveal, Merlin knew that a history of positive interactions wouldn’t make a difference if the truth came out. His mother would never be okay with Will knowing.

And he was right! Because Hunith finding out the truth fractures that relationship. It’s what finally prompts Hunith to send Merlin away. And that, of course, makes things worse, because a) Will never did anything to deserve that reaction, and b) as I’ve talked about in another post, Merlin disappears without even telling Will he’s leaving. He just vanishes. And Will, blindsided, is left in Ealdor with Hunith, who was party to that decision, and he is so...I don’t even know how to describe how full of grief and rage I would be, if I were in his situation. Merlin was the only good thing in Will’s life.

I don’t think Will wants to be anywhere near Hunith, after that. I think he avoids her like the plague. I think the only reason Will even knows anything about where Merlin is or what he’s doing is because Hunith is careful to chat about it with other people in casual conversation, while Will is within earshot (hence why Will later says, “I hear you’re skivvying for some prince”). And I think Hunith is probably making a misguided attempt to be kind, by doing that - giving Will a way to stay sort of updated even though they’re not speaking to each other - but I also don’t think her efforts are effective, at all, because the only thing her secondhand updates do for Will is hammer home the fact that Merlin is writing to Hunith instead of him, that Merlin hasn’t directed Hunith to relay Will any message, that Merlin really did just leave without saying goodbye and apparently has no intention of contacting Will again. And Will doesn’t know why Merlin did that, or what he did to make Merlin not want him anymore, but because Will is who he is, he ends up feeling like Merlin must have never cared about him that much in the first place, and it was just that Will misread the whole relationship; he got his hopes up and let his guard down and believed that somebody cared for him, and he should have known better, because everybody ALWAYS leaves him, and he was stupid to think this time would be different. And he is so angry at himself, but he is also devastated, and impossibly lonely, because he has nobody in his life, and he has to just sit and simmer in his own pain, because Merlin is gone, and Will would rather crawl over a bed of hot coals than go anywhere near Hunith right now.

And I honestly don’t blame Will for avoiding her. It’s like...I hate to put this on Hunith, because I do appreciate her in other areas, but there’s just no getting around this: the way she views and deals with Will is markedly different from the way she treats Merlin’s Camelot friends, even though she barely knows them, and despite the fact that she’s perfectly aware that Arthur hates sorcery. She’s happy to ignore Merlin’s friendship with Will all throughout 1.10, even though that’s the relationship that is in the most desperate need of attention, and instead she chooses to focus on/encourage/praise Merlin’s relationships with people who hate the thing that makes him who he is. And that is just so...bizarre to me, and I think...I really believe there is a part of Hunith that blames Will for everything that happened, even if it’s subconscious. Like - I think there’s a part of her that believes that if Will hadn’t found out about the magic, Merlin wouldn’t have been “in danger,” and she wouldn’t have been put in the difficult position of sending Merlin away. I’m not sure if she truly believed Will was going to sell Merlin to a bounty hunter when he got desperate enough for money (see above re: Will’s situation being a precarious one, survival-wise), or if it was more her fear that Merlin would be too trusting now that one person had accepted him (what if Merlin went and told someone else, because it worked out the first time??? What if he let this thing with Will lull him into a false sense of security?) But whatever her reasons, she still ends up pushing Will away. She never treats him with the same kind of solicitous interest that she extends to Merlin’s new companions, and I do think it all comes back to that moment when she found out that he knew.

It’s hardly rational, given what we know about how dedicated Will actually is to protecting Merlin’s secret. And I don’t think Hunith is like...actively taking it out on him. But the attitude is still present, as an undercurrent, and I have to be honest about this: the feeling I get from Hunith in 1.10 (and the vibe that I imagine Will was getting from her while Merlin was gone) is that she thinks Merlin is much better off now that he’s moved on from Ealdor, and that leaving Will behind was ultimately best for everyone, and that Will needs to just get over it and understand that he’s not a part of Merlin’s life anymore, so everyone can be happy that Merlin has met such fantastic, fascinating new friends.

That’s what I hear her saying, when I see the way she completely ignores him while simultaneously loving on the Camelot crew. That’s what Will hears, too, even if she doesn’t say it out loud.

And honestly, my heart breaks for him. He deserved more than that.

(tangentially, but - I think it bears mentioning, given certain fic trends I have seen, that Merlin himself does not share this viewpoint. Merlin has never and will never consider his new friends to be a “step up” from Will, and he has never and will never consider Will to be a “past” or less immediate part of his life. Even after Will is dead, Merlin refuses to tolerate even the barest suggestion of this from anybody - when Arthur tries to say that Will “was a close friend,” Merlin corrects him, saying “He still is.” Will is just as relevant and meaningful to Merlin in Camelot as he was when Merlin was still at home, and the fact that Hunith doesn’t assign Will as much importance anymore does not in any way correspond to Merlin’s own feelings on the subject.)

So - the point of all this is just to say that Hunith finding out about Will isn’t an event that ends with all of them coming together and collectively deciding to send Merlin to Camelot while Will and Hunith promise to look after each other while Merlin is away. Whatever relationship the three of them had before this happened, it’s broken after Hunith learns the truth. Hunith and Will are completely done with each other, after Merlin leaves. Merlin and Will are obviously plunged into an incredibly messy situation, thanks to Merlin vanishing without a word. And even Merlin and his mother have tension - Merlin references the big blow-up to Will in 1.10, but there’s also a moment in episode 1.01, too, that is VERY subtle but also very telling, when Gaius says “your mother asked me to look after you.” Merlin’s response is just,��“Yes,” but the way he delivers it - he looks away, and his mouth tenses up, and there’s this little hesitation and then the tone is almost - rueful, like there’s more he’d like to say but he refrains. It’s like a “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all” vibe. And the reason for that is because the circumstances under which his mother asked Gaius to look after him were a mess. Merlin tells us straight-up in 1.10 that he didn’t want to leave home. The entire thing was a disaster.

iv. the reason hunith was “so angry” is because will did not find out about merlin's magic by accident

I think I've talked about this briefly before, but here it is in more detail: I am firmly convinced that Merlin told Will about his magic, as opposed to Will finding out accidentally.

It's not something we can actually know in a canon sense, obviously. And I know the “Will almost has an accident and Merlin uses magic to help him” motif is more common in fic. But the reason I’m so set on this is because of how Merlin describes Hunith's reaction to finding out that Will knew.

“When she found out you knew - she was so angry.” The way Merlin says that - he shakes his head, almost in awe, like it was something almost frightening to behold - the way he puts an emphasis on “so angry” - to me, this has always been an indication that Merlin voluntarily disclosed his magic to Will. We know enough about Hunith to be familiar with how gentle and calm she is, and how much she loves Merlin, and how kind and understanding she is with him. I think if she learned that Will had found out about Merlin's magic in an accidental way - ie, in a way Merlin could not have reasonably prevented - then even though she would still have wished that Merlin had told her sooner, she wouldn't have reacted in a way that made Merlin reflect on it like she was scary-angry. I think she would have understood, if he explained that he'd been forced into a situation to use his magic to help someone or prevent a bad accident from happening.

However - if Merlin had TOLD Will about his magic, voluntarily, when he didn't have to, just because he felt like it, despite all of Hunith's warnings and all of her efforts to keep Merlin safe - that, I think, is something that would have prompted the kind of anger Merlin references.

To Hunith, that would be unconscionably reckless. After all she's done to keep Merlin alive, after spending every day of her life sick and sleepless with worry - to have Merlin so easily throw her work away like that, in blatant defiance of every cautionary thing she's ever told him - it's a slap in the face. Plus, Merlin is now in more danger (she thinks) which just amplifies her fear, and thus her fury.

But what she doesn’t understand is that Merlin didn't do it to hurt her. He didn't do it because he doesn't appreciate how hard she works to keep him safe. He did it because he had to. There came a moment, at some point in the past, where he became so lonely and so desperate to be seen that he made a choice, took a risk, and put his life in someone else's hands.

And he was rewarded for that choice! Merlin never, ever would have made it in Ealdor without Will’s honest companionship. A Merlin who did not have a single friend to know and love him for those first two decades would have been utterly unrecognizable by the time he arrived in Camelot - if he even survived long enough to get there.

But Hunith doesn't understand the depth of Merlin's desperation. She thinks that him telling Will was a foolish, uncalled-for risk, when for Merlin it was a lifesaving necessity.

So, I think that this is part of what makes Hunith react so badly. And I also think the severity of her reaction (and the ultimate tragic outcome that follows in 1.10) is something that lingers in Merlin’s mind for a long time, because he never willingly discloses his secret to anyone again. Gaius and Lancelot find out by accident. Freya, Gilli, and Daegal find out by necessity, because Merlin needs to leverage his magic in one way or another in order to save their lives. Even Arthur is a forced confession, demanded by desperate circumstances.

Merlin doesn't choose to reveal himself to those people. It's something that's pushed onto him. Will is a singular instance. Merlin has only voluntarily shared his secret with one person - just because he wanted to, not because he was forced to, just because he trusted them, just because he wanted that connection so badly.

And it leads to such painful consequences, in the end, that he never does it again.

in conclusion:

So, to summarize, my foundational thoughts on how this went down can basically be boiled down to those four things: it wasn't the result of carelessness, Merlin was the one who let it slip, it was a huge disaster with long-lasting consequences, and part of the reason why it went so badly is because Hunith found out that Merlin had voluntarily told Will about his magic, as opposed to Will finding out accidentally.

But, as always, those are just my own personal thoughts about it, and I am still 100% happy to read about all sorts of differing envisionings of this scenario - nothing is confirmed in canon, obviously, so for people who imagine this event differently, have at it! The world can always use a little more of Merlin’s pre-canon life, if you ask me. :D

#the once and future slowburn #meta #bbc merlin gen #no kings no masters #replies #@blueclaw7 - thank you for asking!#i really loved writing this up!#<333

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forgedroyalseal · 4 years

Text

It’s Not Your Fault

Alyss held the sword tightly in her hands, the tip pointed directly at Will’s heart. Will stood backed into a corner, knowing what was about to happen. There’s no way that he would possibly be able to bring himself to hurt Alyss, and Keren had no intention of letting him live, which left only one option. Alyss would kill him and Keren would escape, leaving Alyss to deal with the aftermath.

“It’s ok Alyss.” Will said, aware that once Keren broke his hold on her she wouldn’t remember anything he says, but he still felt the need to say it, just in case. “I know that this isn’t you. I know that he is controlling you.”

Will took a deep breath, but before he could say “I love you Alyss”, he was interrupted.

“Kill him now Alyss!” Keren barked.

She blinked and for one hopeful moment Will thought that she might refuse. However, that hope quickly dissolved when she simply responded, “Yes Keren.”

Suddenly the sword that she clutched was coming down onto Will. At the exact moment that the blade made contact with Will’s skin the tower door was flung open revealing Horace. Without understanding what was going on he threw himself at Alyss, knocking her down onto the floor. Keren’s sword clattered to the ground, splattering blood as it fell. Will pressed a hand to the bleeding cut on his chest. Even though Horace had stopped Alyss before she could drive the blade completely through Will’s heart, the wound was still deep and rapidly dying his gray and white cloak a dark red. Will leaned against the stone wall heavily and took stock of the situation that was unfolding around him. Horace was on the ground keeping at struggling Alyss from reaching for the fallen sword. Keren seemed to be in a state of fury and shock. His face was red and his fists were clenched by his sides.

He shouted “Alyss kill them both!”

Alyss started to fight against Horace with more intensity then she was before, but Horace was stronger and had the upper hand.

With Keren’s attention on Alyss and Horace, Will lifted his right hand up to his collar, his left still applying pressure to his bleeding chest. Will winced in pain as his movements pulled sharply at the wound. It took a tremendous amount of effort, but he managed to free his throwing knife from where it was concealed in the collar of his cloak. Keren, finally noticing Will’s movements, headed toward him, but Will was quicker. In one fluid motion, Will stepped forward, pulled his arm back, and sends the knife spinning towards Keren. The blade buries it’s self into Keren’s throat and the man collapses onto the floor. The second his body hits the ground, Alyss stops struggling against Horace.

“What’s going on?” She asks Horace who currently has his hands wrapped around both of her wrists.

“That’s what I want to know!” He exclaims.

A low groan stops any further conversation.

“Will!” They both rush forward to where the ranger is on the floor, slumped against the wall. His cloak was now drenched in blood and his face was a ghostly white.

“Alyss,” Will wheezes out.

“I’m here Will. I’m here.” She reassures him. She presses her and hand over his, trying to slow the steady flow of blood seeping through his fingers from the gash on his chest.

“It’s going to be ok.” Will says. “It wasn’t you fault.” And for the second time today, he was cut off before he could tell her he loves her, this time by the darkness that consumes him as he loses consciousness.

The next time Will opens his eyes he’s laying in Macidaw’s infirmary. Malcolm is sitting by Trobar, but when he hears Will stirring he goes over to him.

“Ah, good to see you’re back in the land of the living. You gave your friends quite the fright.”

“Where are they?” Will asks as he tries to sit up. Malcolm places a hand on Will’s right shoulder and gingerly pushes him back into the mattress.

“You keep resting and I will let them know that you are awake. If you behave yourself and try to get some rest, I will even let them in for a quick visit.” The healer smiles at Will then exits the room in search of Alyss and Horace.

Will tries to rest, he really does, but only a few seconds after he closes his eyes he feels something cold and wet press against the back of his hand. He opens his eyes and sees Shadow resting her chin on the bed, nose pressing into his hand. Will pats her on the head.

“Good girl Shadow,” he says. At the praise she thumps her tail twice. He hears the door creak open and sees Horace and Alyss standing in the doorway. Horace strides over to his friend immediately. Alyss, however, lingers by the exit.

“Come on Alyss. Come say hello to Will.” Horace waves her over. She approaches cautiously, a worried look etched onto her face.

Will smiles at his friends. “It’s good to see you both.”

Horace grips Will’s hand for a moment, “I could say the same to you! You had me worried for a minute there.”

“Scared you’d lose the brains of this operation?” Will jokes.

“Nah, I’m sure that I could find someone just as clever. The real fear was the thought of having to explain to Halt and Crowley why they are a ranger short.” Horace laughs. Now that he knows his friend is going to be just fine, the two boys can joke about the events the that transpired.

Alyss on the other hand still looked at Will as though he could keel over at any given moment. Will picked up on her uneasy mood. “Alyss, what’s wrong?”

“What happened in the tower Will?” She asked. The smile on Will’s face dropped.

“Nothing you need to worry about. It’s over now Alyss.”

“That is not a good enough answer Will! I’ve been having this horrible dream where I try to kill you. Is that what happened Will? Am I the reason you are here?” She gestures around the infirmary.

Will hesitates and that’s all Alyss needs to confirm her suspicions. “Oh god.” She gasps, covering her month with her hands.

“Alyss, look at me, please.” She does and Will can see tears forming in her eyes.

“You did nothing to me. Everything that happened was Keren’s fault, do you understand? You had zero control over what he did.”

“But-” Alyss started to object, but Will cut her off, shaking his head.

“No buts. It was all Keren’s doing and he is dead now, so that is the end of the matter.” Will said, the tone in his voice making it clear that it was not up for discussion.

Alyss offers him a weak smile and nodded. She would still have nightmares about what happened, what could have happened if Horace hadn’t showed up when he did, but the events of what happened that night in the tower would be buried with Keren, never to be brought up again.

#ranger's apprentice #rangers apprentice #will treaty #horace altman #alyss mainwaring #ranger’s apprentice fanfiction #please write more ra fanfiction #fanfiction

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agentmarymargaretskitz · 4 years

Text

Please Don’t Come Back Chapter 2

Summary: John asks for Ava's help with finding Gary's father. Meanwhile, Gary deals with Vandal Savage and the purpose of his return.

TW: Abuse/mentions of abuse

AO3

Two days had gone by since Gary had gone off on his break. So little time, and yet so much had happened. They’d managed to acquire the first piece of the Loom of Fate from William Shakespeare. John had donned a pair of tights and played Romeo to a crowd. Ray and Nora had left the ship and the Legends for good. Whenever his apprentice got back, there was going to be a lot to catch him up on.

“Gideon, is there any way you can call Gary?” John asked as he was preparing to head back home. “He ought to know what’s happening.”

A few moments passed without response. “Gideon?”

“I’m afraid he’s not picking up, Mr. Constantine,” Gideon replied. “You could leave a message for him.”

John sighed, minorly disappointed. “Sure, why not?”

“I’ll record you. Go ahead.”

It seemed a bit stupid to recite something to the AI all by himself. However, he did need to get the message to Gary.

“Hey, Gary. It’s John. We found the first piece of the Loom with Shakespeare and nearly broke history, but we fixed that up. Ray and Nora left though, so that’s a downer. They’ve got their lives now, best leave them to it. I’m fixing to head to the house until the Legends need me again or you come back. I hope you’re doing well, wherever you are. I miss you. Just…let me or someone on the ship know you’re okay, right? Bye.”

“I’ll send it his way, Mr. Constantine.”

“Thanks, love.”

“You’re worried about Gary, huh?” someone asked behind him.

John turned around to see Ava standing at the corner of the doorway. “He’s just taking a few days off. Damien Darhk had him a bit rattled.”

“He never took a sick day from the Bureau as far I can remember,” she remarked. “It’s sweet that you’re checking up on him.”

“I don’t do sweet.”

Ava shrugged but didn’t look convinced. John was about to go, but then looked back at her. Ava had worked with Gary for years at the Bureau. She also had that fascination with serial killers and the like, which had been a benefit to them in their Encore hunt. John hadn’t pressured Gary into telling him who his father was, but that mystery was staring to bug him.

He turned around to face Ava. “Do you still happen to have files on the agents of the Time Bureau?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I need you to find out who Gary’s father is. He’s afraid the old man is going to come back as an Encore.”

“I can take a look,” Ava offered. “I’ll get back to you on it.”

“Thanks. See you around.”

With that, he opened a portal back to the manor and stepped through.

~~~

“Hello, Gareth.”

No matter how much he wished this to be a nightmare, Gary knew he was awake. His worst fear that he’d confessed to John had come to fruition. Vandal Savage, his father, had returned and found him. He was walking the Earth once more. It brought Gary back to his spiral at Ray and Nora’s wedding days ago, how he nearly shut down at the thought of him returning. Now that nightmare had come to exist.

“Y-you,” he finally forced out. “You died.”

“On multiple occasions, but only once for good,” his father rose to his feet. “And I went to Hell for all I’ve done.”

“I heard you were there,” Gary murmured, remembering how sick he’d felt when Ray talked about being imprisoned with his father. “Someone’s set you free though. Why are you back? What are you here for?”

Vandal looked him up and down, inspecting him. “I was given a second chance on Earth. So I decided to go and find my son. It was too easy to do so. I know I taught you better about leaving paper trails, my boy.”

“I haven’t worried about paper trails for nearly a decade.”

“Tsk, tsk, Gareth,” his father tutted. “You’re brighter than-.”

“Why are you really here?” Gary demanded. “Because I can’t think of a single reason for why you would want to see your failure of a son?”

Vandal’s glare zeroed in on him. Gary did his best to hold it, even though he felt like a small child again under it. He was barely holding it together. His hand began to shake, so he clenched it and brought it behind his back. Now was not the time to show weakness. Gary wanted to shudder that he was taking something his father had told him and using it here.

“I was harsh on you when you were a child,” Savage said, taking a step towards him. “Parenting, especially when one is alone, is not easy, and-”

“Sure, because it’s not like you’re immortal and have had children before me.”

“Do not interrupt me again, Gareth.”

Gary fell silent, hating himself for it.

“I made many mistakes during my first time on Earth,” Vandal continued. “But there is a chance to start anew. To weave the threads of time and create a new outcome.”

The choice of words was too obvious for Gary to ignore his father’s words. He was always so deliberate with words. He had once told Gary that words could build empires, raise armies, and sow the seeds of dissent. His father must have known about the Loom of Fate too. Worse, he probably wanted it for himself. John and Charlie were about to get some serious competition.

Gary let out a slow breath. “You’re talking about the Loom of Fate, aren’t you?”

“You’re aware of it,” Vandal gave him a cold smile of approval. “I knew of its existence, and then learned so much more about it in death. Torn to pieces and scattered across the universes by the youngest of the three sisters. But all the pieces are back in one place and spread across time. They are waiting to be found. And they will be.”

“Not by you,” Gary spat out in a moment of bravery that surprised himself and his father.

“Do I have competition, my boy?”

Gary kept his mouth shut. He reminded himself over and over to breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t fall apart. Breathe in, breathe out.

“It’s the Legends, isn’t it?” Vandal grinned wickedly. “I do love a good challenge. I’ll enjoy seeing them again.”

Gary remained silent as his father drew closer. He stared at the patterns on the carpet.

“I remember Dr. Palmer telling me that you’d been with them when we were in Hell together. Are you still working with them, my boy? Perhaps you can work for me and them? Think of what we could do together. You could find the pieces with the Legends and slip them to me. And I would rebuild the Loom to-”

“No.”

He could feel his father’s displeasure radiating on him. “What did you say?”

“I said no, Father,” Gary repeated, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t help you. And…and you’re going to leave the Legends alone. Don’t go near them. Any of them.”

Vandal sneered at him. “So you’re giving the orders now? You aren’t very good at it, Gareth. Your voice is unsteady. You are not standing straight. There’s fear in your eyes. It’s hardly convincing.”

Gary swallowed, wishing he could shake away the comments. “You don’t even have to do this!”

“I’m a servant of Fate. I have no choice. If I have the Loom, I can make everything right.”

“I don’t care what you want or say!” snapped Gary. “I am not helping you. I never will!”

That was the most he had ever said to stand up to his father. Gary was glad he hadn’t thrown up yet like the last time.

“You never were well-liked as a child,” Vandal’s voice was soft, dripping with disappointment. “Are things different now that you’re with the Legends? Dr. Palmer didn’t speak very highly of you when he mentioned you to me. Are you as much a nuisance to them as you have been for me?”

Breath in, breathe out. Do not break. Breathe in, breathe out. Do not break. Breathe in, breathe out.

“You’re still as weak as I remember. You grew up to become a coward, didn’t you, Gareth?

It was true, but Gary refused to give and admit he was correct. Ever since Rip had told him his father was dead, Gary had stopped being afraid of him. He was not going back to that life of fear and hiding. His father had invaded the home where Gary had recovered from his influence and could be back at any time to hurt Jeff, or Stacey if she showed up to check on him. He had to be removed now.

“Get…out.”

“What did you say to me?”

“Get out,” Gary repeated. “Or I’ll make you.”

Vandal stared at him before bursting into laughter. The sound made Gary’s stomach twist, but he still raised his hands.

“Oh, you were serious?” his father taunted. “Gareth, what do you think you can do?”

“You will never set foot in this house again,” Gary told him, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “And you will not go near the Legends.”

“Enough of this nonsense!”

A knife went flying towards him. Instinct kicked in and Gary dove out of the way. It also wasn’t the first time that he’d had to dodge a weapon used by his father.

“For the last few years, I could actually live without worrying that you would find me,” he shouted as he rose back up to his feet. “I am not letting you back into my life.”

He began to chant the words of the banishment spell. It wouldn’t send his father back to Hell or keep him from finding the Legends, but he would never ever be able to set foot in this house again. His father looked surprised to see the magic taking hold of him and moving him out. Gary watched him try and fight it, only to fail and be dragged further towards the door.

“You learned magic,” his father chuckled. “But this just banishes me from this property. I’ll still find you again.”

Gary ignored the words and kept on chanting. His father was thrown towards the door but clung onto the frame before the magic could throw him out.

“You are making an enemy, my boy,” Vandal snarled. “I will find those pieces, and the Legends too!”

The spell was almost done. His father’s fingers were slipping.

“You know, the last time we parted ways, you killed me. But you didn’t want just me to die, did you?”

The last words for banishing his father left Gary’s mouth as a scream. Vandal Savage lost his grip on the door and was pulled out onto the street, nearly slamming into a car across the street. Gary watched him climb to his feet, hoping the spell had worked. His father crossed the street, but he couldn’t make it onto the lawn. It was if some invisible barrier was preventing him.

Satisfied his spell had worked, Gary slammed the door shut and locked it. He made his way through the rest of the house, finding all the other possible ways in and sealing them manually or magically. Once all was done, Gary headed back to the living room, removed the knife from where it had lodged in the wall, and sank onto the couch. This house had once been his safe place after running away, somewhere his father would never come. Even though he’d banished him, his uncle’s house now felt tainted by his father’s visit.

“But you didn’t want just me to die, did you?”

Gary shut his eyes tightly, trying to banish the memories of the night he had run away. Instead, he tried to think of how he could tell the Legends that Vandal Savage was back from Hell without having to explain his…history.

~~~

Ava stared down at Gary’s file again, making sure she had the right one. Shortly after John talked to her, she’d raided the crate in the cargo bay where she kept all the files on Time Bureau agents that she had salved during the shutdown. When Ava had opened Gary’s, she was surprised to see almost all of it had been blacked out until his work at the FBI prior to being recruited to the Time Bureau. There was only one other file with so much redacted information and that was her own.

There was a suspicious commonality between her and Gary’s files. Rip Hunter’s signature was on a form in both authorizing key information to be redacted during October 2017. Ava found another form dated back a few months further that had her assigned to be working with Gary Green also bearing Rip’s signature. Apparently, he’d deemed it would be beneficial due to the fragility of their pasts. Whatever the hell that meant, it was clear to Ava that her former boss had been hiding more than just her own origins.

“Gideon?” she called out. “You don’t happen to have access to Director Hunter’s Bureau files, would you?”

“While the Time Bureau had me on lockdown, Captain Hunter did upload select files into my systems despite downgrading me to a flight simulator used to train agents.”

The bitterness in her voice did not escape Ava. “But you do have files on agents in the Bureau?”

“Yes, Captain Sharpe. Unfortunately, yours was deleted by Captain Hunter.”

“Of course he did,” Ava muttered. Rip Hunter, still withholding information beyond the grave. “Was any of it redacted?”

“No. All its contents regarding your origins were present and legible.”

Some good news then. “Would you show me the unredacted file for Agent 1066, Gary Green?”

A moment of silence passed before Gideon spoke again. “Mr. Green’s file requires a command code for access.”

“A command code?”

“Yours required one once as well. I’m sorry, Captain Sharpe.”

“Thanks, Gideon.”

Ava sighed and shook her head in confusion as she looked at the file again. What the hell about Gary had made Rip redact the one the Bureau had on file and hide the original behind a command code on the Waverider? John was onto something about the Encore thing, that was for sure. But what Encore was Gary’s father?

She definitely wanted to find that original file now.

#legends of tomorrow #gary green #vandal savage #john constantine #ava sharpe #constangreen #fanfiction

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maidenxfmight · 4 years

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freefall

Tagging: @luthorforgood & Supergirl When: August 1st, 4:30 am Where: L-Corp What: Kara pays Lena a visit in the aftermath of Magneto’s attack. Lena can’t stop thinking about seventy stories, and that one second. Warnings: Injury Word Count: Not atrocious, 2,481

LENA: The clock on her tablet read 4:43am. Lena stood alone at the top of the staircase, observing the silent wasteland of the upper floors of L-Corp. Her tablet chirped. Digital scan complete, an automated voice spoke and then the floor plunged back into silence.

Her mind screamed. The gravitational constant: 9.81 meters per second squared. Free fall time: 7 seconds. In free fall without air resistance, h = .05(g)(t)^2. Calculated, h = 240.263 meters. 1 meter = 3.281 feet. 240.263 meters = 788.264 feet. L-Corp stood at 848 feet. The 29th tallest building in New York City. Two feet shy of 30 Rockefeller Plaza. 70 stories tall.

Supergirl reached Lena on the 38th floor at the 5th second.

402 feet of freefall in 5 seconds. 2 seconds to go from 109 miles per hour to zero with 446 feet of space and 500 feet required... her foundation had hairline fractures and her body ached from the pressure. After 6 seconds of freefall... 1000 feet required to stop from a speed of 150 miles per hour that her body would have then reached. The difference of a second.

There’s this world on my shoulders, and if anything happens, if that’s ever too much, if I’m ever too weak to hold it…I can’t bear to think about what might happen. One second later. Lena could only think of what might have happened.

A breeze brushed against shattered glass and a siren wailed in the distance. Ribs ached and joints protested the slightest movement. A flash of red. Lena's jaw clenched impossibly tighter, eyes shifting. "Supergirl?" A rasp in the air, hating herself for the grating sound of its uncertainty. Lena straightened her back and cleared her throat, but she couldn't hide the red haunting the corners of her eyes. "What can I do for you?"

KARA: Her apartment felt tight. It had been a while since she'd felt so restless in the space of her bedroom. Soft moonlight played across her comforter, outlining Lar's profile on the pale blue pillows. The steady in and out of Donna's breathing could be heard across the apartment, and it was supposed to be comfortable.

But something itched just beneath her skin. Her thoughts bounced from one to the next wildly and she couldn't bring herself to lie still. It's not like she actually needed sleep. Not since landing on Earth. No, that was another thing she'd lost with her home–

Rao, what was wrong with her? Her hands curled into fists and she suppressed a frustrated groan. The last thing she needed was to wake up her roommates and endure the third degree. Quietly, she lifted her window and floated out into the night sky. She hadn't felt quite right since the attack at L-Corp. Since she'd landed with a thud with Lena Luthor at the bottom of her elevator shaft, and the twist of metal around her had burned her palms.

Her gaze turned to L-Corp tower, where she could make out the skeletal outline of Lena moving shakily around her office. 4:43 am and of course she was awake. Doing what? Playing with more kryptonite? Kara thought of what could have happened.

It wasn't hard to imagine. She could imagine the dry scratch at the back of her throat, the way her own blood seemed to scrape through her veins, how her skin burned. She could imagine hovering over the elevator shaft and Erik finally revealing his cards, green and glowing as they both plummeted eight-hundred-forty-eight feet.

She could feel Lena's fingertips slipping through her own. All those worlds on her shoulders and Lena consistently decided to gamble with them.

She found herself drifting through Lena's office window, feet skating across the remnants of broken glass. It was still a battleground. She twitched, fingers flexing, breath catching. Something burned but she brushed it off. Lena moved tenderly, her voice not much more than a scratch.

Just seconds. Just one.

She thought are you okay, but found herself asking "Do you get it, yet?"

LENA: Two steps forward and one step back. The difference between five seconds and six. She should have expected Supergirl's words, the clip of something just beyond frustration in her voice. How many times had they been here before? How many times would Supergirl have to swoop in and save her life before Supergirl finally decided that a Luthor's life was no longer worth saving? Lena shouldn't have hoped for understanding.

"I warned you," Lena said, hand itching to run through her hair and tuck it behind her ears but body too stiff to think about uncrossing her arms and indulging in the anxious habit. She closed her eyes and a grimace turned into a frown as she turned to face the Super, eyes and jaw clenched shut for a second before both opened again. "You still came anyways." And maybe that hurt substantially more than if the Kryptonian had stayed away in some inexplicable way, because Supergirl hurtled through an elevator shaft without knowing if she would still be invincible when she hit the bottom. "You shouldn't have come." Come now? Come then? Ever?

KARA: Something was slipping, but Kara only just managed to catch herself.

I promised you always.

And she kept her promises. It hadn't mattered what would happen to her, if Erik had used the kryptonite. It hadn't mattered what Lena had said or done, how many times she could shove the device into her articles. It hadn't mattered, because Kara loved Lena, and she had promised her always.

But telling her as much would show her hand, and even feeling as though she was standing on a precipice in Lena's doorway, Kara couldn't quite bring herself to tell her the truth.

Maybe, maybe she doesn't deserve it.

Kara's mouth opened and closed again, her hands twitching at her side. Her toes were hanging off the edge, ready to plunge her into something, but she couldn't quite tell what. "Of course I came. I'm always going to–" She paused on a breath, raking a hand through her hair. "Don't, don't do that self-sacrificing song and dance. A lot of people worked really hard to keep you alive today, don't pretend like that means nothing."

LENA: Something in Supergirl's demeanor made Lena take a second look at the Kryptonian, really trying to look past the steely gaze and strong exterior.

Supergirl was tired.

"I didn't ask them to," Lena answered, her tone just a bit too sharp. 'I didn't ask you to' was implied, but Supergirl kept showing up time and time again. Lena had done nothing to earn that kind of loyalty, especially not with the past the two shared, but it was still freely given. "I dug this grave for myself. No one else should have to lie in it." The words were softer now, approaching vulnerable, and she had to look away. Glass littered the floor and severed cables still sparked at random in the gaping shaft of the elevator, wind twisting through the gaps and whistling as it passed through. Lena should have died, but she hadn't.

She turned back to Supergirl. I do care. "It means something."

KARA: She had, she had dug her own grave.

The thought burst its way forward before Kara could temper it, before she could remember Lena had started at the bottom of a grave. Her family had been digging it well before she'd been given a shovel. That maybe she'd be throwing up pebbles of her own in bits and pieces hardly meant she was entirely responsible.

But then there was kryptonite, and alien detection devices, and how sometimes Lena stepped right into her family's footsteps, even if she didn't seem to fully realize it.

Or maybe she did. The tired, small tug to her voice was telling. Kara took a moment to fully take Lena in, the way she guarded against too many injuries, the way the breeze from the ravaged elevator shaft played at the ends of her hair. How she seemed to war between resignation at the bottom of her grave and embracing the strength to crawl her way back out of it.

"Okay." Kara's voice was soft in turn, giving a small nod before she looked away. Too many words danced on the end of her tongue. Confessions, anger, concern, love. She had to clench her fists against the onslaught. "Good, okay."

She looked up, taking great effort to force herself to relax. Something wasn't right. "You have to believe you're good, Ms. Luthor. The rest of the world, they won't believe anything until you start believing it, too."

LENA: Kara Danvers believes in you. Lena remembered hearing those words when the rest of the world was shouting the fall of the last Luthor. She'd been so tired then, and the fight had just begun for clearing the Luthor name. Then, she hadn't known how many times one person should have to fall from grace and redeem a name over and over again. Metallo. Cadmus. It had only been the beginning, but it could have been the end. She'd been set to die in her brother's vault then, but Supergirl had saved her then too. But that's when Kara Danvers had become her hero, inspiring her to keep fighting for what was good.

She'd never considered that she had to believe first.

Lena offered a stilted smile in return, brow still furrowed and a hand rubbing the back of her neck. "The last time Magneto paid L-Corp a visit, I had to make a phone call to tell a woman that her husband wouldn't be coming home again... that Anthony's baby girls were fatherless." She stared hard into Supergirl's eyes -- green meeting blue. "I don't want to make a similar call for you." Lena didn't think she could look Kon-el in the eyes again if it came to that.

KARA: "Haven't you heard? I'm the Girl of Steel. I don't bend, I don't break." The words fell out before she could stop them, an echo from a simpler time. She could bend. She could break. It wasn't invulnerability that kept Kara alive. It was a mixture of luck and determination.

And they weren't the right words, not in that moment. When Lena was meeting her eyes with a resigned determination, on the tail of a confession that hurt. She knew what it felt like, to make that call. To know that, despite all best efforts, not everyone could be saved. It wasn't even Lena's fault.

The thought caught, whispers of kryptonite and detection devices and 'he's coming after you over your inventions, Lena' bubbling in the back of her mind. Her fingers curled and for a moment she was shocked they were loud enough for her to even consider. She shoved them down, shifting on her feet. Stop, breathe, restart.

"What I mean is I understand the risks I take." I wasn't sent here to fall in love with a human... "So do the people who love me." There was Fort Rozz, Reign... "I do what I do because I love this planet, the– the people. It gives me a purpose here, after– after Krypton. If you ever have to make that call, Lena, know that it's because I was doing something I truly believed in, and I'm at peace."

She paused, more than she meant to say having already spilled out into the air between them. "That woman, she probably believed in you."

LENA: Her lips pursed for a moment, ready to argue with Supergirl. Lena knew that there was one thing that could make the Kryptonian break, and it was the very thing Magneto had stolen from Lena. The very thing Lena has created — against Supergirl’s warnings. But Lena was so tired, joints aching and a migraine threatening to form and arguments dying on her lips just as they were thought. Words would get them nowhere tonight. “You might be at peace, but the rest of the world would not,” she admitted in no more than a whisper. “Maybe it’s selfish, but I care Supergirl.” I do care. The same words spoken weeks ago when she’d tried to warn the woman about Magneto’s potential threat. So much had changed, but that fact had not. It would be easier if she didn’t care, but she did and it seemed after all their differences, the same was true in reverse.

“You have a family here Supergirl. A good one that still sits around a table and eats pasta together.” She paused, unable to remember a single Luthor dinner that resembled the one Kon-El had invited her too. “I would like you to continue to go home to that.”

KARA: Someone had once told her she looked beautiful, with the weight of so many worlds on her shoulders. Kara didn't need any more weight, but in that moment, she felt it settle heavy against her back.

'The rest of the world would not' fell into the air between them and she caught on it, let it tumble around in her mind for a moment while Lena continued. Like there was no falling gently into Rao's light with the rest of her family, there was no peace, there was an Earth and a family who cared too much to let her go. There was a Luthor who thought about that, who pointed it out.

Kara wondered if it was just the guilt. She almost spoke it allowed, but she already knew the answer. It was written clearly across Lena's face, in the tired slump of her shoulders, in the stories she told. It was Lena's kryptonite. It was the mark on her back that got her security detail killed. It was–

Not Lena's fault. The actions of evil people were not Lena's fault. For some reason, Kara had to repeat it to herself once, twice, again for it to fully stick. It still felt slippery, unsure, and suddenly Kara felt markedly uncomfortable. There was an itch beneath her skin, something only a few rotations around the Earth might fix, and she needed out.

She didn't need Lena's concern, certainly not in regards to problems she'd created herself. She didn't need to be reminded of all the worlds on her shoulders. She was plenty aware of them without the help. Words like 'worry about yourself,' and 'you're playing with the same family now' danced on the tip of her tongue. But instead she said "I need to leave."

Her head tilted, like maybe she was listening to something, but all she heard was her own heart picking up pace and the way Lena's creaked against themselves when she breathed. Her feet lifted from the floor and she was half a moment away from blasting through Lena's windows when she paused. "They're your family dinners now, too, Lena. Best you come home to them."

#ff: luthorforgood #ff: freefall

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years

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Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: Heads up, y’all. I’ve got some serious stuff coming up. So, I can’t promise this on my day off. Chances are, we’re going to have a week off. Sorry in advance <3

As always, feedback is incredible. If you want tagged, please send an ask or message so I am sure to see it. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Smut. Oral (Female receiving). Fingering. P meets V. The whole shebang. Nightmare mentions. Minor angst? Not enough editing. That’s all, I believe.

Word Count: Roughly 4,000

More of his weight pinned you down to the mattress as his mouth dropped to the corner of yours. All softness was forgotten when he made full contact. Demanding you yield to the rough kiss. As if you'd stood a chance of resisting the moment his tongue slid against your lips.

The hunter braced himself on one elbow. Never pulling his mouth from yours. Letting his free hand pick up where it'd left off the day he'd had you braced against the Impala. His light slide against the edge of your rib cage made goosebumps raise along your flesh. Almost tender. Slower than you'd expected. When he finally spread the broad grip over the peak of your breast, you moaned into his mouth.

Your own hands were busy as he massaged the slope. Desperate to feel what he had to offer. One stroking through the silky chestnut locks over you. So soft it was criminal. The other trailing across his back. Getting a taste of the warm, solid flesh that moved against you. A feral growl left the hunter when it slipped lower, digging into his sweatpants covered ass. Only to discover he was that firm all over.

“Fuck, Y/N...” Sam jerked away from you. Sitting up to his knees just long enough to tear his shirt off his torso. You only got a glimpse of the lightly haired, toned chest before he was moving again. Those fingers you were once sure would cause your demise wrapped around your arm. Guiding you up until you were straddling his thighs. The thick bulge ground against your bottom as soon as your hips shifted.

His mouth pressed wet, open mouthed kisses along your throat. Teeth and tongue grazing against your salty skin. Careful to avoid the still healing bite mark. Long, strong fingers roved over the bare flesh of your back. Holding you so close, your breasts smashed into his hard chest.

When he couldn't reach anymore, you were tugged backwards. Just enough to give him access to the soft skin he was craving. As his tongue traced around your nipple, your head flew back. Arching the skin closer to his lips.

But, he didn't take the hint. Instead, his mouth moved to the other breast. Giving it the same level of attention. Something just under satisfying.

“Sam, I swear to God,” You gasped out, yanking at his hair in frustration. Needing the intensity he'd started with. However, he found a level of longanimity you loathed.

“You're so impatient.” Came the teasing breath across the flesh he'd dampened. “Maybe wanna wait just a little longer, Y/N.” A soft punishment for the way you'd avoided him time and time again.

“Remember the hard, fast sex?” He wasn't the only one who could play ball. Your hips twisted forward. Grinding your clit against his erection. A harsh breath was sucked between his teeth at the deep rub. “Still what I was going for- oh!” He finally latched his mouth around your nipple. Tugging it with his teeth before soothing it with a large kiss. Successfully making you drop what you'd been saying as the hot arousal shot through your body.

Fast? Sam took the word to heart. His arms held you against him as he lifted up to his knees before dropping you against the mattress. A squeal left you when you fell down. Any scolding was forgotten, though, as his fingers tore at your panties. Ripping the seam as he tugged them sharply down your legs. As you moved to aid, you were pushed back down.

“Don't move, Y/N...” His order settled into your bones.

A deep kiss to the soaked folds nearly made you fly off the bed. Incapable of following his command to the letter. And he couldn't have that.

Sam's dense arm draped itself over your middle. Pinning you right where he wanted you as he bent in. Letting his hair tickle against the sensitive skin around your mound as he grew more bold with his laving. Your head fell back, just under his pillow. Reveling in the way that the wet drag of his tongue seemed to stroke every nerve ending.

“You're...”A broken gasp left your lips as he brushed just to the right of your clit, “aw...awfully good...good at that.” His arrogant smile could be felt against you as you panted. Savoring the titillating moment. “Guess you...you weren't getting tips from the porn.” Your hands tangled in the blanket, messing up his bed. Sweat beaded against your skin as your thigh trembled. “Thank God.”

Words were lost to you when you felt the tip of his finger pressing home. Your hips bucked into his forearm as he used the digit to work you open. A second finger followed a moment later. Stretching you wider as they pumped inside of you. Matching the rhythm he set with his tongue. Not giving you any kind of mercy as you clenched around his fingers. Moaning out his name when they crooked up, right into your sweet spot.

“That's my girl,” He murmured huskily, lifting his head to watch you fall apart with those deep, dark hazel eyes. Taking in the ragged cry that escaped your lips as you trembled in his grasp. Too large palm wrapping around your thigh to keep your leg high before he dove back in. Giving you no chance to recover.

It didn't take long for you to give him exactly what he needed, “Sam... His name mingled with a strangled groan. “Pl...please..” Even your whispered begging from your dream didn't compare to the actual sound of you strung out because of him.

“Please what?” Sam rasped out, wanting to hear the sound of it one more time.

“That rough...” A heavy pant broke up the demand. “Rough sex would be great.” You managed, swallowing heavily at the accomplishment.

Your eyes were locked on his when he looked up to you. Lust blown pupils staring holes into him. Breasts rose and fell heavily with every deep breath. H/C locks haloed around your face. Sticking to your forehead from the sweat that had arisen there. As if he could refuse that sight.

In what had to be record time, his pants were gone. Boxers followed. You let your eyes wander over him when he climbed off the bed. Taking in every lean, taunt muscle as he stalked to find a condom.

He grinned when he saw your hungry orbs taking him in. Not the least bit shy, “Like what you see?”

“I bet I'll like the feel of it better.” You teased, sitting up on your elbows to watch. Zeroing in on the proud erection that waited for you. “A hell of a lot better.”

A shaky sigh left you at the display. He was entirely proportionate. Long and thick. Veins popping out beneath the velvety flesh. Proud and waiting for more of your attention.

He adorned the protection, slowly. Watching the way you licked your lips as his hand worked over the erection. When he was ready, he stalked forward. Pleased to see you meet him in the middle. Every bit as eager as he was.

It was nothing for you to climb into his lap. To reach time and grasp him. Line his dick up and press home. A small, whine of pleasure leaving your lips at the slow invasion.

Another breathy groan left Sam as the wet, soft heat encased him tightly. His eyes never left the way your lips parted. Your E/C clenched close the deeper he went. Each rock giving you both more of the sweet friction you craved until he filled you completely.

Your lips ghosted over his. Just barely brushing as you breathed deeply. The almost kiss somehow more erotic than any actual had been. He gave you the time to adjust to his size. Letting you tease him with the soft grazes. Then, you moved. A small lift and drop. But, it was enough.

His hands came around your back. The tight grip forcing your hips to lift. Creating more friction. Taking control in the best sort of way. Your mouth fell open at the change. Grasping into his hair and onto his shoulders was the most you could manage.

“That's it.” The hunter coached, lowering his hands down to your ass for a better grasp. Forcing you to move faster. Harder. He squeezed the flesh rough enough you were sure it was going to leave a mark.

“Sam...” You were going to say more, but a particularly hard thrust made you lose any train of thought.

Then, you dared look into his lust glazed eyes. Any hope of coherent speaking was gone after that moment as he slammed your body against his roughly. Skin slapped sweaty flesh. His mattress creaked under the weight of bodies meeting. Stuttering breaths met with choked gasps.

Losing yourself in him was easy. Letting the delicious pressure build inside of you with every thrust of your hips. You never wanted it to end.

But, he shifted your hips. The changed angle shoved him against the sensitive spot inside of you. He was almost growling at how you clenched around him as you slipped closer to the edge. His thumb moved down between your legs. Trying to help you get there.

A low, choked cry left you when you came. Your tangled fingers yanked at Sam's hair as he watched your face contort with pleasure. Small murmurings of encouragement leaving his lips as you rode him through the high.

One thrust. Two. Sam didn't make it past three. He groaned out his pleasure into your shoulder when his orgasm hit. Listening to the soothing, husky tones of your voice as you held him through it. Not so far gone that he didn't feel the tension starting to return to your body.

The moment he loosened his grip, you were on the move. Knees weak, you set to grabbing your shirt and panties. Ignoring the heat of his eyes on you while he removed the ruined rubber.

“Goodnight, Sam.” And that was all he got as you made your escape. He flopped down onto his bed after cleaning himself up, and stared at the ceiling. Going over what had just happened in his mind.

The sex had been great. More than great, really. He wanted- needed more. With a sigh, he shut off the light. Not bothering to throw any clothes back on. Knowing that what had just happened was going to further haunt him in his dreams.

–

“Sam?” Castiel looked at the younger Winchester in confusion. And then understanding replaced the perplexed look.

“Get out of my head, Cas.” The younger Winchester warned lightly, making the angel frown. Only to be replaced by another look of understanding.

“You don't want Dean to know?” He looked at Sam thoughtfully. Trying to decide how to best approach the situation. Honesty won out. “He already suspects, you know.”

“Suspects doesn't mean he knows for sure.” Sam stated sipping from his beer. Staring at the fridge. Refusing to budge an inch. “And frankly? I'd rather not deal with those repercussions right now.” Instead, he was stewing over the fact that you'd only gone back to him one other time in the span of a week. And that time? You'd left with a frown on your face. Even after three orgasms. He didn't get it.

“I could always find out for you...” Cas trailed off, trying to be helpful. Only making it that much worse.

“No thanks.” Sam tightened his lips lightly in a forced, awkward smile. Silence filled the room as each being zoned out. After a minute, though, he was bothered by Cas's silence. Typically, he wouldn't have dropped it so fast. When he looked back, the brown brows were pulled down in a frown.“What's wrong?”

“She's dreaming.” The angel's face darkened as he listened in. Then fell as it morphed.

“Is she okay?” Another flashback hit Sam. You bent and broken as you waited for him to get Dean. The nightmares.

“She's going to need your brother.” Castiel didn't seem to be thrilled to report the news to the other brother. Sensing the concern from the hunter beside him.

“How do you know?” Sam fought to focus on the fact that something was wrong. And not the fact that he wasn't the one you needed to run to your side.

“I can her... calling for him.” His head turned to look towards the hall where you were located. “For her friends. For me. Even for you... but him the most.”

“Me?” His brows lifted at that. Almost relieved. Until he realized what it meant. He'd never been someone you could turn to for anything other than a fight, or a few lays. “That bad?”

“It's not pretty.” Castiel stated solemnly, wincing lightly at whatever he'd witnessed.

“Can you stop it?” The image of you standing in front of him grew more prominent. Crushed for a moment. Sam, please...

A nod was his answer. As he followed the angel to the room, he found himself wondering just what it could be. How haunted you really were. How he could stop it without the aid of a celestial being.

You were still in your sleep as they entered. Stiff as though rigor mortis had already set in. The rapid rise and fall of your chest paired with the wrinkled forehead were the only indications you were still living. There was no tossing or turning. Just frozen fear.

It was immediate once the angel touched you. The tension seeped out of your body. The hard lines faded from your face. A soft sigh drifted from your lips.

“She won't remember it.” Castiel whispered softly. Trying to comfort the younger brother.

“This time.” Sam reminded him. Looking down at the peace in your face. “This isn't the first...probably not the last.” A gentle caress of your face only made you roll away from him to get comfortable. “Let's get out of here before she wakes up...”

“You're actually concerned for her.” The angel waited until they were in the hall to speak again. Looking over at his friend as they walked away from the door. “And you don't like it.

“No.” Sam frowned. Stuffing his hands into his pockets. Not bothering to lie to Cas. “I don't.”

“I know it's easier to ignore-”

“Cas?” Dean's voice interrupted the lecture he was going to get from the celestial being. Back from his beer run. “Sam? What are you two doing back here?”

“Sam was showing me how to work the Netflix.” Cas stated after a second of thought. Covering their asses. The older brother squinted, but accepted it to some degree.

Castiel gave Sam a look that said he'd keep quiet before he moved towards Dean. A wink of blue eyes flashed behind the hunter's back. His way of encouraging the younger man. That angel is something else.

Not for the first time that night, Sam's mind turned back to you. He kept flipping through the memories of your porn star worthy moans, you fighting the vampires, and the vulnerabilities that came from your past. Three different women all combined into one package. And he was sure there was more he was missing. God give me strength...

–

“Sam?” Your voice penetrated the sleep fog that coated his mind. “You awake?”

“Am now.” He smacked his lips lightly, turning over to see you sprawled out beside him in the dark. “What are you doing, Y/N?”

“Couldn't sleep.” You rested your head on your propped up arm. All too comfortable on his bed. “Figured you'd be awake, but obviously I was wrong.” You sighed deeply, moving to get up. “Go back to bed-”

“Don't.” You stopped moving, and looked back over at him in surprise. “I'm awake enough...” The tone gave away what he was thinking.

“Good.” You moved your body over to his. Just barely brushing your lips against his. And then you ruined it, “Why were you and Cas by my room, tonight, Sammy?”

“What-”

“Dean.” Your E/C eyes stared directly into his. Not giving him a chance to look away. Demanding an answer.

“Why's it matter?” He turned over to his back, taking up a majority of his bed. Almost making you fall off.

“An angel happens to be in the bunker when I've gotten the best sleep I've ever had? The same angel that was spotted with you by my room? That's a coincidence, is it?” He didn't respond to the accusation. You pinched his obnoxiously large bicep, making him yelp.

“Ow!” He hissed out, gripping your hand tightly. Stopping the next one. “What the hell was that for?”

“Whatever you made Castiel do!” You glared at him in the dark. Squirming to pull free. “He shouldn't be wasting his grace on me, you jack ass.”

“I didn't make him do anything!” Sam grumbled, telling only a half truth. He had asked. “He heard your dream. Said it wasn't pretty. So, he stopped it.” He rubbed the muscle you'd tore into with a glower gracing his face. “He didn't even tell me what he accidentally peeped in on. He just said he didn't like it.” Mostly true. You stared at him distrustfully. Waiting for him to crack. When he didn't, you nodded.

“Fine.” You stated simply. Moving to roll away. “I believe you.”

“You should. I'm a stand up, guy.” Your unimpressed look as you rested on the edge of his bed made those killer dimples flash your way. “Most of the time.” He amended.

“I should go and try to go back to sleep.” You sighed, moving to leave.

“Y/N. Wait.” His voice made you turn to look at him for the second time. “You didn't just come in here for that, did you?” He meant for it to sound sexy. Husky, perhaps. Instead, he sounded a little too squeaky.

“Why,” A teasing smile formed on your lips, “is Sam Winchester really making the first move, again? I thought I'd see a cold day in hell first. Or, maybe an alien invasi-”

“Shut up.” He laughed, pulling you on top of him. Stopping only when your nose brushed against his. “That mouth of yours drives me crazy.”

“And to think,” Your arms came up to move his hair from his eyes. “I haven't even let you see all that I can do with it...”

Your lips pressed against his jaw softly. Teasingly. When you got to his throat, you nipped lightly before soothing it with a warm kiss. Nothing that would remain until morning, but enough to make him take in a sharp breath. Your fingers stroked the base of his neck tenderly before beginning their downward descent.

“Maybe another night.” His fingers dug themselves into your sides to still you. When you moved to protest, he rolled you under him.

“And tonight?” You let your breath drift over the superficial wound. Earning a small shiver.

“I want you on your hands and knees.” His low voice made you hum in appreciation.

“And then?”

“And then, I want to make you scream.” The words were almost as good as when he touched you.

“Dean's home.” Came the breathless response.

“I know.” His mouth widened in a naughty grin. Your toes curled in response. “Guess you're going to have to do it into the pillow.”

“I'm starting to believe the only thing that really gets you off is trying to kill me.” But, you didn't pull away when he moved in to kiss you passionately. Instead, you met him half way there...

The sex was hard and fast. Sam had won. You'd shouted into his pillow not just once. But, four times. A new record.

“I don't know how you can move,” He huffed out, tucking his arm behind his head. Proud of himself. The smirk you'd once hated so much lining his face.

“I'm stealing a shirt.” You warned as you two pulled apart; ignoring his comment. Not letting a moment of weakness show.

“That's fair.” He looked down at your wrecked one on his floor. His impatience had gotten the best of him. “What do you want done with that one?”

“Trash it.” You stated, pulling out a simple gray t-shirt from his closet. “I'm convinced you're half giant. Hagrid really your old man?” The material hung off your frame. It was ridiculous.

“Hilarious.” Keeping your eyes off of his nude chest was harder than you'd expected. But, you managed it.

“I try.” You sounded off. The more you spoke, the more he zeroed in on it.

“Okay, what?” Sam finally demanded, sitting up more on his elbow. Looking more than a little worried.

“What, what?” The panties he'd slid off your legs earlier were tugged back on.

“What's eating at you?” He demanded, his hand fixing his sex wrecked hair in one sweep. Maybe he's part merman rather than giant, you thought enviously. You tried to fix yours, but you were sure it didn't work nearly as well. “Well?”

“Nothing's bothering me, Sam.” You lied through your teeth. Every time you were with him, the feeling only got stronger. It was wrong.

“That's bull.” His hazel eyes, that looked more green in that moment, narrowed on you. “What? You still think that I had something to do with the angel? 'Cause he'll tell you-”

“It's not that...” Or it wasn't until he'd reminded you.

“Then what?”

“Nothing you did.” You answered after a second. Still not putting it into words. At his exasperated sigh, you came clean. “Don't you feel like something is...missing?”

“Missing?” His brow went up. Freezing rather than getting up as he'd moved to do. “Like what?”

“See, this is why I didn't want to talk about it.” You rubbed your forehead. Noting the way his chest puffed out in masculine insult. “Your inner alpha male is already taking it the wrong way.”

“You didn't answer my question.” He pointed out, his jaw working so hard you were sure his teeth were ground into nubs.

“This is going to sound cheesy as hell, so stay with me here.” Your hand came out and landed on his chest. “It's not you-”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Just when you thought he couldn't look anymore offended. “The 'it's not you, it's me' slew?” With that, he sprang from the bed. Reaching for his boxers in disgust.

“Trust me,” Your hand covered your heart, “I'm not thrilled with it, either. But, sometimes? It fits...this is one of those times.” You shrugged, your hands coming out in a helpless gesture. Only earning yourself a filthy look over his shoulder. “You're better than great in bed,” You tried comforting his ego. It wasn't working based on the scowl. “Seriously. Best lay I've ever had. Every girl should experience-”

“Are you done?” He huffed out. Yanking a t-shirt over his own head.

“I'm just trying to clarify.” You held your hands up in surrender. “It really is just me-”

“Y/N.” His eyes were filled with something close to loathing. “I think you should go.”

“Night, Grouch Ass.” You muttered, leaving his room with a sigh. Looking both ways to ensure you were clear, you began the walk of shame. “You should have just run away,” You grumbled to yourself. Crossing your arms over your chest. As if that would save you from the cold shoulder. “God, Y/N...why'd you have to go and open your mouth?”

Tag: @burningmusicmachine @missmarrinette @sherlockedtash88 @rathersuspiciousbumblebee @sasbb23 @nothinbuttrouble2 @baby-bunker-pie @neii3n @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @malfoysqueen14 @calaofnoldor

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

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egg2k16 · 4 years

Text

40 Fanfic Q’s Answered

the server wants answers, and they want them now!!! from this post

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Smut and pining all the way. Also, falling in love via laughing

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Eh...I don’t think so, I’m always 100% self-indulgent, so what u see is what I want

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

Anything that has to do w mega sadness, I just Don’t. I can’t write anything sad, and if I do, there’s certainly gonna be A Lot of comfort afterwards

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

I have 91 wips, motherfuckers!!! My latest wip is a daddy month fic!

5. Share one of your strengths.

I think, since I’ve been trying to be sparser in my words, I’ve been able to better emphasize what isn’t being said

6. Share one of your weaknesses.

No action scenes from me are ever good, lmao

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

It was late at night, when he started to cry.

He didn't want to cry, but he did.

It's been years since he's last let himself feel, or was it since he was last allowed to feel?

He choked on his sobs, uncomfortable with his tears. He's forgotten how to properly cry. His entire body is shaking, and the connections between flesh and wire hurts.

He stops crying. He starts crying again.

This continues for another few minutes, until he feels as if he can't possibly have any more tears.

He wipes his face, pulls the covers up to his chin, and falls asleep.

(from Twilight on the Sea) I really like this bcus I don’t think I’ve ever really typed out crying in this way, n I tried to make it feel like it was a lot

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Cass was quiet for a moment. “... you know what? Maybe I’ll just go up there and surprise you.”

“If you do, then you already ruined the surprise, haven’t you?”

“Eh, I dunno about that. Seeing my beautiful face is a shock for many people.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it.”

“Hey, Koda? I don’t know about you, but it’s really late here.”

“Really?” Koda asks, then remembers that time zones exist. “Oh crap, what time is it over there?”

“It’s midnight. What about you?”

“It’s eight o’clock. Only four hours difference?”

“Oh hey, that’s not so bad.”

“It reduces our time,” Koda said, a bit whining.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“What are you going to do? Move here? Send for me?”

“You’ll see.”

(from Together) This was a gift for one my best friends on here, @suncatchr , and it’s about his ocs!!! I love this a lot bcus while it’s a soulmate au, it’s not ur average soulmate au, and I tried making it as original as possible! And this blurb, I just wanted them to effuse so much love w/o having to say love...cries

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

If this is by posted fics, then I remember writing Look What You’ve Done to Me was very very difficult, bcus, since it’s also a gift, for @daniel-bryan , I wanted to write it Good, n since my buddy usually wrote from the love interest’s pov, I felt a weird pressure to write Daniel Bryan’s pov as good as I could

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

2 of my fics in Spanish!!! My oc centric one, Rayos y Centellas, and my shyan one, oye cariño, solo pienso en ti ! Turns out writing in ur native tongue makes everything easier

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

It’s a very passionate hobby!!! I just!!! try to pour all of my love into everything I write!!!

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

I’m not sure!!! I just watch movies n quietly scream to my gay lonesome bcus No One Ever Watches Movies ;-;

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

To just keep writing n not stop for details or forgotten lore, bcus it’s important to write down what’s firing u up Right Now. Of course, it’s very difficult following that ;;-;;

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

“No adverbs!” “No ‘said’!” “It has to make grammatical sense!” sometimes things Need those

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

Was gonna say my rewrite of the end of The Rover, but actually, my SPN fic Ube . Shit was peak inspired

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Eridirk (Eridan Ampora/Dirk Strider from Homestuck) all the way. The one otp that’s stayed thru thick n thin <3

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

A little mix of both, and tbh it depends on the fic, but I tend to write chronologically

18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

I’ve started bullet pointing my ideas out before writing my fics, and so far, it’s been helping me be more streamlined n get my things written out faster n clearer!

19. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

Is the need for representation in all the niche movies I keep watching a muse?

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

In my dark room, w music blasting from my laptop, the TV w a soft hum, I have the perfect playlist to get the mood right, curled up in my blankies, n my plushie Sweet Pea by my side

21. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Zero, we rely on autocorrect & editing while typing and die like men

22. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

YOU DON’T SEEM SCARED.

Del Rio shrugs. “Working as a cop, it makes you numb to some things. It’s good, it lets you react to things as you should, and not how you’d want to.”

YOU SOUND SAD ABOUT THAT.

He makes a noncommittal noise. “It is what it is.” He eats another spoonful of his ice cream, then gets a thought.

“Can you show up?”

HOW SO?

“Can you,” he tries, waving his spoon around, “Manifest?”

I DON’T KNOW. I’LL TRY.

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Del Rio assures, and he can feel the air around him smile. The...world, he thinks, around him shifts just slightly, and there seems to be a chink in the armor for a moment before it goes away, as if someone had wiped the glass clear. He realizes that this is her, trying to show up in a physical form, step out of the phone.

He doesn’t know where to look, but then his confusion wanes when a butterfly shows up, fluttering towards him. It lands near his phone, skitters a bit, flaps its wings.

“Lucy?” he asks, transfixed on the butterfly. Its orange wings are bright under the sunlight.

I THOUGHT I’D TRY SMALL, FOR MY FIRST TRIAL.

“Well, you certainly nailed it.” He smiled warmly at the butterfly, and he had the crazy notion that it smiled back at him.

(adapted from The Policeman , the first fic I posted!)

23. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

Yeah, probably The Policeman lmao, I remember it today n I cringe a little at the very obvious refs to other fandoms I made. Despite that, it continues being one of my best hits!

24. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Never

25. What do you look for in a beta?

I’m just thankful to have gotten a beta in general in life at all

26. Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I beta’ed once, and since English is my 2nd language, I pointed out syntax confusion, typos, n continuity errors

27. How do you feel about collaborations?

Can be done, it’s just that I am frightened. Tried doing that, it fell thru, n the new thing that came up, I still have to hold up my end of the bargain ;;-;;

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

cries omg ok so!!! Chancy_Lurking ( @lurkerviolin ) is one of my faves, n we’ve become friends, n their Felix+ Sense8 series is the reason for it all, and u know it’s good if it managed to make a friendship that’s last its good while, and also they’re so nice, and we vibe so well!!! thegoatz ( @daniel-bryan ) is also now one of my bestest friends ever, and I wuv him so much, he is such a good kid, n he’s so enthusiastic about writing, and I hope that spark never goes out!!! And adamwhatareyouevendoing ( @skatingthinandice ) bcus she’s doing a rewrite of The Last Kingdom where it’s all gay where it should be and vnjkdfsnvkd God, what a wonderful friend!!!

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

I actually technically am working on a sequel to @rettaroo ‘s A New Kind of Touch ! Another promise I have to hold up eventually ;;;-;;;

30. Do you accept prompts?

Sure!

31. Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I try to follow canon as much as I possibly can!

32. How do you feel about smut?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

33. How do you feel about crack?

Eh, it’s alright. I don’t normally look for it, so I don’t really have a solid opinion on it

34. What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

I don’t want to read it, but I have so far encountered it twice very amicably: once here in a ficlet, and another in a longer fic on AO3, and they were both very good

35. Would you ever kill off a canon character?

Probably not, I don’t like sad things!

36. Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3! I’m RedLlamas on it!

37. Talk about your current wips.

Lmao which one. The one I’m currently working on is an impregnation kink turned “oh no I actually do wanna have a family” feelings fic!

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

Gonna be real w u, the best comments I’ve gotten have mainly been from my friends, who either write a paragraph or two going into detail of the fic, or just send a one sentence comment that’s just “screams!” I’ve gotten very few paragraphs from other people, n they’re always so!!!

My friends are the realest :’)

39. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

The perks of being a rarepair writer is that the only people who read my fics are the ones actively looking for content!!! And they can’t complain about my work because No One Else Is Writing For It!!!!!!

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

All my fics are masterpieces, so I’ll do a summary change! For don’t you just know (exactly what they’re thinking?)

Dakota finds himself in unexpected heartbreak, and the universe decides to bring him in the direction of a night club with a dancer with stars on his skin.

#post #about #sbbookclub #writing be like

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boxoffood · 4 years

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Basics of Food Management

Food is such a fundamental aspect of our reality. Our lives spin around it from our waking second onwards. Food and devouring go inseparably and even festivals everywhere on the world and over all societies are focused on food (box2food). Our old Indian sacred writings separate food into three classes, for example,

Satvic or unadulterated nourishments: These are food sources that mend, comfort, succulent, smooth and increment life span, knowledge and quality and are processed well by our framework.

Rajasik or the elegant nourishments: These are pungent, zesty, harsh, pungent and can offer ascent to weakness, pain or distress.

Tamasik or the polluted nourishments: These incorporate old, chilly, left over nourishments, unclean and half cooked making incredible mischief the brain and the body.

Food is one part of our life that we underestimate. We are less aware of the food that we expend. We leave our body to manage the consistent maltreatment from our everyday lives and ways of life. We, people, without underestimating our body, need to make wellbeing creating frameworks and manufacture a unity with food, beneficial activities, yoga, restorative breathing and contemplation, rest and rest and be profoundly mindful and cognizant. These means convert into better endurance, quality, tone and energy with accentuation overall body as an element, one that emphasizes health and prosperity.

The food we eat establishes the framework for each cell and tissue in our body. The reason for food is to sustain us, manufacture quality and to give essential energy. Stomach related agreement is the key for arrival of this crucial energy required for solid living. The study of Ayurveda - the innovative and helpful life science - says that all aspects of our psyche and body is represented by the DOSHAS - the bio-lively power or components that support life. Refined, prepared and protected nourishments are largely absolutely without this sustenance and imperativeness. Healthy, crude and characteristic nourishments that have consumed the inestimable energy, and are too accused of adequate precipitation and daylight must be used to the fullest for wellbeing and health.

The dad of medication, Hippocrates said "thy food is thy medication. The type of food you eat will affect you general health and what you eat you become".

To a large portion of us eating great food is simply one more errand and an inconsequential activity. The number of us are truly aware of the way that great food performs marvels inside our cells and tissues and is answerable for 80% of our change. Food subtly affects our psyches too. Food assumes an essential function in affecting our cerebrum conduct, our states of mind, and points of view and in taking care of pressure. It is these healthy, characteristic nourishments that give wellbeing and energy freeing and shielding us from us from diseases. Studies have indicated that there are two dietary cycles in the human body-feeding and purging that should be managed with acceptable and reasonable dietary propensities. Whenever disregarded, it can prompt a development of poisons which are the reason for generally mental and physical degeneration.

Wellbeing isn't only an extraordinary body or a zero size figure however covers physical wellness, mind science and otherworldly development and our endeavors ought to be an incorporated methodology towards health. To accomplish this eat suitable nourishments that don't disintegrate our stomach related framework. Truly, I mean, go genuine simple on every one of those low quality nourishments, soda pops, old, cold food sources and exorbitant meat eating and liquor. Rather, start to cherish organic products, veggies, nuts and nourishments in their characteristic healthy structure. It is essential to 'oblige your craving and not spoil your hunger.' I am asking you to follow this and not consider it a 'diet'. It isn't proposed for weight reduction alone. In actuality, it is a significant aspect of a solid way of life.

Thus, let us praise great wellbeing.

How frequently have you gone over the words 'solid' and 'food' in a similar sentence, yet decided to disregard it? Notwithstanding monitoring the numerous advantages of eating healthy, I see endless individuals around me underestimating their wellbeing. Our body is what we think about it. So why fill it with undesirable food and wind up enduring its worst part.

Eating well has endless favorable circumstances, some of them being:

1. Forestalls and control medical conditions like heart maladies, hypertension, type 2 diabetes.

2. With great sustenance your body turns out to be better outfitted to manage pressure.

3. Great food invigorates the body to make more executioner cells to avert contaminations accordingly advancing resistance.

4. Food gives us sickness battling cancer prevention agents and can slow the characteristic cycle of maturing.

Indian eating regimens, with care and arranging are characteristic and natural involving grains, heartbeats and dals, leafy foods, nuts and oilseeds; all in satisfactory adds up to look after wellbeing. Diet and Nutrition are answerable for 70 to 80% of your whole change. Food likewise impacts your point of view, disposition and conduct. There are nourishments which can cause you to feel high, there are food sources which can make you touchy and unstable, there are food sources which can energize you, and there are food sources which can loosen up you.

Indian eating regimens suit Indian populace the best contingent on our way of life, climatic conditions, air, contamination and so on When some time appreciating different cooking styles is extraordinary, yet would you actually need to exclusively rely upon pastas and burgers over and over again and face the dangers joined to devouring such undesirable, non stringy nourishments?

As referenced over the wellbeing hazards are bounty! Our eating regimens incorporate complex starches from jowar, bajra, ragi, entire wheat and so forth instead of the refined sugars. Our eating regimens are intended to ensure our hearts with low degrees of oils, fats, sugars. Truth be told our eating regimens find some kind of harmony of all nutrition types, nothing to an extreme and nothing excessively little. High sugar admission is proportionate to diabetes, high fat levels can prompt hypercholesterolemia, hypertension, heart sicknesses, strokes and so forth

My brilliant standards for better wellbeing:

Keep in mind, our bodies are custom-made to devour what we have been since youth and what our dads, front dads have been expending. Our weight control plans of rotis, dals/beats, veggies, sprouts, servings of mixed greens and so forth consistently will guarantee total wellbeing rather than steady utilization of lousy nourishments/burgers/pizzas/abundance measures of cheddar, cream and so on Relish on all that you love, yet recall that, anything excessively little or a lot of is similarly harming...

Rules for smart dieting and weight the board

Adhere to these brilliant standards/steps of smart dieting for accomplishing a solid weight reduction and to expand your wellbeing and life span:

1. Regular little helpings of food are suggested. Eat gradually. Eating often forestalls cravings for food, gives steady energy and keeps up digestion productively.

2. Select nourishments dependent on your inclination and don't stress as a lot over the quantity of calories you expend however focus on joining the correct nourishments and on the segment sizes. Try not to deny yourselves. This is probably going to make you eat more the following day.

3. Change it up of nourishments to your day by day diet. Incorporate healthy nourishments like vegetables, natural products, nuts, seeds, fledglings, and entire grains. These nourishments give all the basic supplements and fiber which are essential for development, great wellbeing and insusceptibility.

4. Drink every day 8 to 10 glasses of fluids like water, and natural teas. These beverages are fillers are hunger directors.

5. Incorporate new natural products, new unstrained vegetable juices, vegetable, sprouts, entire grains, nuts and low fat milk/yogurt.

6. Drink a glass of ginger/green tea after a weighty dinner. This hurries absorption and improves digestion.

7. Expend sound bites like plates of mixed greens, wafers, natural products, unsweetened and low fat yogurt, wholegrain bread rolls and biscuits.

8. Peruse marks well and pick nourishments that don't contain synthetics like additives and added substances. Naturally developed nourishments are a more advantageous choice.

9. Keep away from terrible fats like margarine, cream full-cream milk and rich plate of mixed greens dressings and sauces. Take care not to kill wellsprings of good fats like nuts, seeds and olive oils which contain unsaturated fats. Utilize these nourishments with some restraint.

10. Take out white flour items like breads and rolls, pastas, white rice, handled nourishments and sweet breakfast oats. They need fiber. They additionally cause a spike in our insulin level prompting fat stockpiling.

11. Exercise consistently. Extending, yoga, workout, strolling and other gentle types of vigorous exercises are suggested. These activities should be possible at home or in a rec center with direction. Stress can be diminished through yoga,meditation, great rest and sound rest.

12. Stay away from soda pops, and squeezes. Additionally evade desserts, pastries and seared bites. Rather, eat an assortment of supplement thick nourishments. Breaking point the utilization of handled nourishments, seared nourishments and quick nourishments. In the event that you should have them, make sure to practice balance. Balance is the key when you eat what you need without feeling denied. (https://box2food.com)

13. Use cooking strategies like stewing, steaming, flame broiling and simmering as opposed to singing.

Great wellbeing is the consequence of cognizant duty that includes numerous variables like the food we eat, works out, mental prosperity, rest and rest. Consistency is the most significant factor with regards to great nourishment. At the point when you are regularly on the run, you need an arrangement that you can without much of a stretch receive and one that includes an establishment of sound food. Eating continuous even suppers is fundamental for any individual who needs to lose or look after weight, have energy and endurance for the duration of the day, supported insusceptibility, to improve center and fixation or more for Mickeymizing your health remainder!

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