#that must have been a real slap in the face in hindsight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flyingraijin · 1 year

Text

sunshine | part II

Summary: Hanta just wants to marry you. In hindsight, it's been a long time coming.

Pairing: Hanta Sero x fem!reader

Warnings: Alternate timelines, friends to lovers/established relationship, swearing, smut

Word Count: 11 684

Part 2 of 4 | Masterlist

Note: Once again, I edited this in a rush. But it's finally up, after months and months :)

13 years old

The strong sting of antiseptic is what slaps you in the face the moment that you step into the school nurse's room. The whole place has always been uncomfortably sterile, with barely a human touch anywhere to ward off the artificial feeling of the room. You don't turn away though, despite how you'd like to, and instead move deeper into the room to allow the nervous boy behind you to follow you through the door.

"R-really," Sero says, coming to stand awkwardly in front of the single, metal-framed examination bed. "It's okay. You don't need to-"

You pay him no mind, however, as you step over in the direction of the medicinal cabinet. It's unlocked, open for student to use if need be - although the school is always very cautious about keeping potentially dangerous medication or equipments so readily available- and you already have your sights set on a roll of thin bandages before you even pull open the glass door.

"Sit," you tell Sero over your shoulder as you gather what you need. "It's okay, I can take care of this."

Sero lets out a muffled grunt, words you can not decipher and don't try to. However, then comes the telltale creaking of springs that lets you know he's done as you suggested and taken a seat on the bed.

There's a tension in the room, between the both of you. But you don't fully understand what it is. Quite possibly, it has something to do with the fact that you were sitting in his lap not ten minutes ago, although that's not something you really want to acknowledge. All you can tell is that, once you've got your hands full of antiseptic spray, Bactroban and bandages, and you turn back around only to accidentally meet his eyes, you can't help but blush a little bit and look away.

God, this is embarrassing.

Sero shifts a little uncomfortably on the bed as you go to set the stuff down beside him. His long legs are slightly spread, with his forearms resting on his thighs and his spine a little hunched. Visibly, he's tense and uncomfortable, and while you chalk it up to the pain of his scratch, you know it's probably more than that too.

He probably thinks you're a real idiot.

You sigh softly and busy yourself with tearing away the plastic wrapper that covers the roll of bandage. You don't blame him, honestly - you had absolutely come across as a total airhead back there, stuttering and tripping over Yuuta like an absolute mess. You don't even want to begin to imagine what Yuuta himself must think, all things considered, and it makes your cheeks flush with an even fiercer heat when you feel Hanta's gaze on the side of your head.

You push through it though, as best you can, because even if he does think you're pretty stupid, you don't have to interact with him ever again after this if you don't want to.

At least, that's what you tell yourself.

"Can you roll your sleeve up a little higher?: you ask him in a soft voice as you go to take another look at the long scratch. Sero does as you ask, or tries at least. The fabric of his jumper goes up to just before the crook of his elbow and no further, even when he tries to tug at it.

"That, uh, as far as it'll go," Sero mumbles then and when you glance up at his face, he looks away, embarrassed. "My - My quirk… it can't… Well, it's, uh, in the way."

"Oh," is all you can muster in return because it's all just so awkward. You honestly feel like you're being suffocated.

Thankfully, despite the resistance, his sleeve does go up high enough for you to see the entire scratch. It's worse when you look at it close, and is bleeding even more heavily now. Something squeamish twinges in the back of your mind, but you push it away and lean over to pick up the antiseptic spray and cotton wads.

"I'm sorry," you apologise to him, more to be polite than anything else. "This will probably sting quite a bit."

Hanta just shakes his head. "It's okay, I can handle the pain."

Even so, his face still screws up when you begin to clean the scratch with the antiseptic spray.

You feel the twinge of guilt as your eye flicker from his arm to his face and then back to his arm. It's so obvious he's trying to put on a tough face for your sake, despite the fact that it's your fault that he's here in the first place. You might feel awkward around him, but it's not as if you dislike Sero. And it's because of this - and to have an excuse of breaking the smothering silence - that you speak.

"You've got pretty insane reflexes. You caught me really quickly."

Sero gulps, his hand tensing into a fist for a second before relaxing. "Uh, yeah," he answers, attempt to talk through the sting. "I-it's something I've been training tor a while. I mean, naturally I've got pretty fast reaction time but I've been working on them even more now."

"You've been training?" you ask, feigning curiosity to keep him distracted. "Any particular reason why?"

"Ah, well," he replies and you notice a notable slump in his tense shoulders. "It's all a part of my preparation to take the UA entrance exam next year."

"UA?" This time, your interest is genuinely peaked and you look up from what you're doing to meet his eyes. He looks back at you, and for the first time ever you don't think you see a waver in his gaze. He must be comfortable talking about this topic.

"You want to go to UA?"

"I do," Sero confirms with a nod of his head. "It's kind of… all I've ever wanted to do."

"The hero course? Or something different?" you question before you can stop yourself. Sero blinks at your eagerness.

"The hero course," he confirms.

"So you wanna be a pro-hero?"

Sero nods again and raises a hand to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head. "Since I was little, yeah," he mumbles. "It's kind of… my dream?"

He says it like a very bashful, very embarrassed question, and yet you can't help but smile at it. You did not know this about Sero at all; the fact that he wanted to go into UA's hero course was not something you'd ever even considered as a possibility. Not that you had any reason to, since you and he had only interacted to the very bare minimum before now. However, for some odd reason, the knowledge that he too is applying to UA high-school, come next year autumn, sends a warmth flooding through your chest. Suddenly, you don't feel as alone.

"That's really cool," you tell him, offering a bright smile. Then it turns sheepish. "Sorry about all the questions. I guess I'm just curious because I also wanna go to UA."

"You do?" The way he perks up so suddenly reminds you of a literal puppy. "You want to go to UA?"

"Yeah," you tell him, still smiling. You set the antiseptic spray down, finished with cleaning up his arm and go to grab the roll of bandage. "Not the hero course though. I'm hoping to get into the support course."

"The support course?" Sero's expression falters only briefly as you begin to wind the soft white cloth tightly around his forearm. "You like that stuff."

You nod mildly, your focus now on wrapping the bandage as evenly as possible. "Yeah. I've been into all those gadgety things since I was a kid. Although," you repress a small snort, "I didn't always know it."

When you glance back up at Sero, he gives you a questioning look and it prompts you to continue. "When I was younger," you explain, "I always thought I was gonna be a hero. I was really obsessed with certain pros, like Ereasurehead and Sir Nighteye - the heroes who relied a lot on support items. I thought it would be so cool to have all the gadgets and stuff. I went all the way up until elementary school convinced I was going to become a pro-hero. Until in sixth grade, when I tried to build Erasurehead's capture weapon for a science fair, and I realised that what I was actually interested in was the support gear."

You can't help but chuckle to yourself at the memory, taken back to that day when you'd stood with the first place rosette pinned to your shirt, holding your prized capture weapon in front of all the other participants of the fair, having a crisis over the fact that your entire career plan had been turned on its head.

"I haven't looked back since then," you continue with a shrug. "And since UA's got the best support course around, I figured that where I'd aim to be."

When you stop talking, you realise that Sero is looking at you with an odd expression on his face. There's a warmth in his eyes you haven't seen before and you almost want to say he's on the verge of smiling, with the way the corner of his mouth his tilted upwards.

"I didn't know that at all," he admits, almost a little sheepish. You shrug in response, reaching out for a piece of tape to stick down the edge if the bandage with.

"I didn't expect you to. I don't talk about it much, not even to my friends. It's kind of like my little secret."

Which makes it pretty odd that you'd just spilled your guts to someone who's in essence a total stranger, you realise suddenly, although you don't say it out loud.

Sero flexes his hand once you stand back, the bandage finally secure and settled in place. The clean whiteness of the fabric stands out in start contrast against his olive toned skin, and you can't help but feel a little guilty again as you look at it.

"Thank you," Sero says, and his voice sounds much stronger than it had when you'd first spoken to him earlier in the day. "I... Yeah, thanks."

"It's no problem," you tell him, shaking your head as you begin to pack up what you'd taken from the cupboard. "The least I could do after I caused that whole mess."

He just shakes his head slightly in response, scratching at his hair once again. And then, when you reach for the cupboard door, he slides off the bed onto his feet and opens it for you without a word.

You nod in appreciation to him as you put the things way. And then he closes the door again once you're done, leaving the both of you standing alone in the small room with empty hands and nothing more to do.

Like a ton of bricks, the awkwardness returns.

"I, uh," you start, twisting your fingers together as you look from him to the door and back again. "Well, I guess I'd better get going."

"Yeah," he says quietly in reply and you're almost disappointed that he doesn't try to stop you. "Me too."

"So… see you around?"

He nods and you just about ready to turn on your heel and bolt, wanting nothing more than to put as much distance between yourself and this horribly uncomfortable afternoon as possible.

However, you're stopped short by a soft hand reaching out to grip your wrist.

Sero says you name tentatively and for a second you swear something inside you just melts .

"I, uh, liked talking to you today," Sero mumbles. When you turn around to look at him over your shoulder he's got his head down, his bangs shielding his eyes. "It - it was nice to get to know you a little. So, um… thank you."

He glances up a little and his eyes meet yours. Both of you are flushing immensely.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, but not in the bad way as you turn around to face him properly. For some reason, you twist your wrist a little in his grip and then grasp at his back, your fingers feather light against his skin.

"Yeah," you mumble out and are surprised to find your voice is just as soft as his. "Yeah, you too."

And just like that, you realise you don't mind this afternoon too much after all.

23 years old

Hanta's patrol that afternoon isn't one of the worst he's ever had. But it isn't one of the best either. For some reason, it seems like the entire city is out and about today, forcing him to be extra alert as he walks through the streets in his sector, on the lookout for any unsavoury activity. Nothing major happens, thank goodness, however, he is faced with a few more domestic cases that - in his opinion at least - are more difficult to deal with than actual battles with villains. A lost kid in the park, a dog stuck in a gate, a worried young father who's baby pram blew away in the wind. All are of his concern and so he deals with all as quickly and efficiently as possible, smiling happily every time the job gets done. His heart longs for home though and he can't help but breathe a deep sigh of relief when his watch finally beeps 20:00, letting him know he's due to clock off.

The rain starts just as he's stepping through the tall glass doors at the front of his agency building, the raindrops only just catching his heels. It's warm inside the reception area of his agency, something he is both grateful for and a little apprehensive of, as it draws attention to the way the slick material of his hero suit is sticking to his body.

It has him shifting uncomfortably as he steps into the elevator and hits the button for the basement floor, which houses the gym, locker area and, mercifully, the showers. It's not often that he regrets many choices about his hero lifestyle but when he does, his suit it usually at the forefront of them. The design has changed only a little since his high-school days and remains as skin tight as ever, something Hanta loves and hates. Loves because it's aerodynamic and allows for him to do his best work. Plus, you like it a real lot. Hates because on days like this, even having done not much but walk around, he feels sticky and grimy and absolutely desperate to hop into a steaming shower.

Thankfully, there's no one else in the licker room when he gets there - the three sidekicks he'd hired back at the beginning of April must all have started their patrols already - and so Hanta is free to strip down and step into one of the large, clean showers without any distractions. He lets out an audible sigh as the hot water finally hits him, steam immediately beginning to rise and fog up the air around him. His muscles are tired, despite the quiet day, and Hanta can't help but eagerly await the time he can crawl into bed beside you and go to sleep.

He's got Boys Night first though, which he remembers with a slight furrow of his eyebrows. He'd promised he would be at Boys Night this week, and he doubts Denki will forgive him is he bails for a third time in a row. His shoulders slump a little in disappointment.

Boys Night is a tradition that has held up since he, and all the other members of Class A back at UA, graduated. Every other week the boys of Class A, and sometimes Class B too, meet up at a group-favourite izakaya for drinks and snacks and to catch up. The guest list is always rotating, and it's always been more of a "if you can make it, come along" type of thing. Hanta still tries to go as often as he can though, even if it's just to get a chance to catch up with the former classmates who he probably wouldn't have made an effort to see otherwise.

He's had to miss the last two, though, for reasons out of his control. The first was because he'd got held up at work, when Jester, one of his sidekicks, ended up in hospital after a pretty nasty encounter with some yakuza thugs. The second time was because you'd successful completed your first major brand deal with a well-known hero and Hanta had taken you put to dinner to celebrate. Because of this, he knows Denki will be on his ass to make an appearance tonight and as much as the idea makes his shoulders sag, he doesn't really mind. It might even give him an opportunity to chat to Bakugou about the whole wedding thing (although the likelihood that Bakugou will also be there without Kirishima to force him is very low)

There's agency issued body wash sitting on one of the small shelves built into the corner of the dower, and when Hanta reaches for it and flips the cap open, he's hit by the small of white roses. It envelopes him as he pours some of the already foamy soap into his cupped palm, his mind suddenly taken back to a faint memory from way back in his first year of high school; a dark cupboard, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, soft breathe against the shell of his ear, whispers words against his skin…

"You smell like white roses and dark chocolate."

If only he'd known back then it'd be the start of something amazing, he'd probably would've tried to take in more. But he'd been do enraptured at the time, so completely out of it over the idea of sitting in the darkness with just you for seven minutes that he hadn't stopped to appreciate it like he should have.

He can't deny though, that t hat memory is the one that prompted him, when it came time to choose the scent of the body wash in the agency showers, to choose white rose over everything else. And every time he catches it's scent, he can't help but think back.

He finishes up with the rest of his shower quickly, and then changes into the fresh long-sleeve v-neck and sweatpants that are ready for him in his locker. His hair falls in a wet mop against the back of his neck, sending water droplets racing down his back, and he makes his best attempt to dry at it with his tower as he hooks his bag over his arm and heads back towards the elevator. He's almost done for the day, he thinks contentedly as the floor number pings and the elevator doors slide open for him. All he needs to do is clock out and then he'll be free. The thought makes his chest warm.

It takes about 30 seconds to reach the top floor of the agency building. There's only offices up here; his, his assistants and those of the three sidekicks. His is the largest, the last door on the right which leads out into a large square room with a corner window, several tall bookshelves and a desk that Hanta still thinks is far too important for his little old self. The room is very dark when he steps inside, since the heavy curtains are drawn against the city lights, and it takes Hanta a few moments of dropping his bag by the door and then flicking at the light switch for the upward-facing lights in each corner of the room to blaze into life.

Logging the occurrences of his patrol on his computer doesn't take Hanta long and before he really knows it, he's hitting save and sending the file off to his assistant. The paperwork side of being a hero isn't much fun but it is relatively quick and painless for the most part. And getting it done is always incredibly satisfying. After checking to make sure there aren't aren't other outstanding forms waiting for him, he powers down his monitor once again and gets up from his desk chair. His spine pops a little as he stretches it out, and then he's sauntering back out the room, flicking off the lights as he goes. He doesn't bother to take his bag with him - he's got the early morning shift tomorrow anyway so he'll be back here first thing.

As he heads back towards the elevator, he pops his head into his assistants office. She smiles up him, evidently in the midst of clocking out herself, and says, "You heading out?"

Hanta nods. "Yeah. Got Boys Night to get to."

She laughs. "Well have fun. Don't drink too much."

"You know me," Hanta snorts in response. "I never do."

And then he's gone, strolling back towards the elevator with and easy stride, his mind already turning to the izakaya and then, later on, to his evening with you.

As if on a cue, he feels his cellphone buzz into life in his pockets just as the elevator doors slide open. He pulls the device out as he steps inside and as the screen brightens, he's treated to a new text from you.

Her <33

Are you coming home before you goes to boys night?

Hanta leans back against the cool metal of the elevator wall as he swipes open the app. His fingers zoom across the keyboard as he types out his reply.

Wasn't planing to. I'm already a little late so I thought I'd go straight there.

If that's okay?

The little bubble that says you're typing something back appears almost as soon as he hits send on his own message. Hanta rolls his shoulder a little as he waits for you reply, wincing as he does so when the stiffness twangs in his joint.

Her <33

That's fine. Are you gonna be drinking tonight?

Nah. I'm pretty sure Denki's planning to get wasted and since Kiri won't be there, he'll need a babysitter.

Her <33

Lmao. Well, have fun. Don't do stupid stuff.

When do I ever?

Her <33

Don't make me answer that.

Hanta snorts at your reply and pockets his phone once again as the elevator pings to a stop. The doors slide open smoothly and he steps out, heading straight for the main doors of the agency. It's still raining outside but not as badly, and as he ducks his way out of the doors and into the downpour, he can't help but feel like this evening will be a good time.

As Hanta had expected, he is the last one of his former classmates to arrive at the izakaya.

The whole area is already horribly crowded by the time he steps through the door, however someone has managed to grab the usual spot he and the rest of the Class A boys always take. It's a bit of a job to pick his way through the people towards the table without accidentally elbowing someone, but Hanta manages it somehow. And when he finally stops by the table surrounded by his friends, he greeted by a flurry of smiles.

"Hanta!" greets Denki first, loud and already sounding slightly tipsy. He offers Hanta a fist first and Hanta reciprocates, knocking how own against it. "Man, I thought you'd abandoned us!"

Hanta rolls his eyes playfully. "As if. I was just showering and stuff after patrol."

"Nonetheless, we are all glad to see you," says Iida, smiling. He nods his head to the empty spot next to him, which Hanta takes without complaint. "So, how have you been? It feels like I haven't seen you in far too long!"

Hanta shrugs and gives them all a brief overview of his life in the past couple of weeks. He looks around as he talks, noticing how there's more people here than usual. Including, surprisingly, Bakugou, who's sitting looking grouchy right across the table from Hanta.

It's nice to catch up with his old school friends. Almost all the boys of Class A have chosen to come this evening, with the only exceptions being Kirishima, for obvious reasons, Shoji, because he had some appointment to get to, and Tokoyami, who is currently in hospital after an incident with Dark Shadow. Even Midoriya has made it out and Hanta spends a few very enjoyable minutes trading stories with him about a smaller hero they'd both worked with recently.

There's a pretty obvious elephant in the room, however, and once all the relevant topics like Kirishima's baby and Bakugou's upcoming wedding have been talked thread bare, all eyes turn to look curiously at Hanta.

"Soooo," Denki draws out, grinning lopsided as he gives Hanta a knowing - and very drunk - look. "Like I said earlier, Mr Cellophane did something very exciting today!"

Heat rushes right to Hanta's cheeks and he just about chokes on his water as the eyes on him suddenly become even more intense. "D-Denki," he mumbles, ducking his head a little so that his bangs hide his eyes. "It's really not that big a deal."

"Nooo, it isssss," Denki slurs and chuckles sloppily. He takes another sip of his drink and points across the table at Hanta. "Go on, tell them. It's just the boys here, no one's gonna snitch!"

"W-well," Hanta coughs and states down into his class. "Today, Denki and I went -"

"Me and Hanta went to the jewellery store! That really fancy on on the promenade!" Denki blurts, interrupting him.

"Uh, yeah," Hanta says, scratching at the back of his head. "I was just planning on looking around a bit but-"

"Hanta bought a big shiny ring," says Denki grinning. He holds up his hand and wiggles his own bare ring finger. "For his giiiiiiirlfriend ."

The table erupts.

"Y-you mean like an engagement ring?" Midoriya splutters, his eyes wide. "Wow, Sero, that's-!"

"Fucking idiot," Bakugou's grumbling but there's a sparkle in his carmine eyes. "You have no idea how much fucking planning you're in for, I swear to-"

"That's a very big step," Iida is musing, "although you two have been together for a long time. I'm sure you've thought this through. In any case-"

"Congratulations," says Todoroki, reaching out to place a hand on Hanta's shoulder. The calm touch centre's Hanta a bit in the chaos and he turns to give his friend a weak smile.

"Ah, well she hasn't said yes yet so…"

"Oh but she will!" Ojiro says encouragingly across the table. He looks around, gaining the approving nods from the others. "She's totally crazy about you. I'd be willing to bet the idea of saying no won't even cross her mind."

"You two have been together for a long time," Bakugou butts in once again. He scowls and jerks his head in Iida's direction. "Like Four-Eyes said. You two are so perfect for each other it's disgusting."

"We're all rooting for you," Midoriya tells him, smiling widely.

"Not me," pipes up another voice; Mineta is sitting beside Denki, scowling unhappily."Maybe if you two break up, I'll finally be able to get my hands on that hot- mhff!

But Denki wacks him over the back of the head and knocks his nose into his drink before he can finish his sentence.

"So when are you planning to propose?" Todoroki asks, turning back to Hanta with a curious expression. "Soon?"

"Ah." Hanta grins nervously and rubs hard at the back of his neck. He feels a little overwhelmed, especially now that all the pairs of eyes at the table are back on him once again. It's safe to say he's given his decision quite a bit of thought, however, he feels suddenly very unprepared as he looks back at all his friends waiting faces.

Honestly, he hasn't expected to tell anyone until after it happened. That way he could avoid all the pressure - this pressure - from people other than himself over not fucking things up.

"Not too soon," he says eventually. "I, uh, still would like to chat to her parents about it. And mine. And… just mentally prepare myself a little, ya know?"

There are resounding nods all around the table, and a harsh chuckle from Bakugou. The blond sits back, giving Hanta a dark look from under one arched eyebrow as a cruel smirk plays at his lips.

"All that mental prep shit does fuck all," he says bluntly, crossing his arms decidedly over his chest. "It's gonna be the most terrifying moment of your entire life. You're gonna be scared shitless."

Hanta feels his stomach drop a little. While it's not usually the case, he feels far more inclined to listen to advice from Bakugou than any of the other at the table, since he's the only one who has actually done the damn thing before.

"How-" Hanta starts, then stops, swallows, tries again. "How do I… not fuck it up?"

Something in Katsuki's jaw twitches and he leans in, looking Hanta dead in the eye.

"I'm gonna ask you this once because I honestly don't give a shit about your stupid love life," he grumbles out. "Do you love her?:

"Of course," Hanta replies, only for some reason it comes out as barely more than a whisper.

"How much?"

"More than anything," Hanta says without evening having to think. The corner of Katsuki's mouth twitches upwards.

"Then you're already doing everything you can, shit head," he says. "The rest is up to her. So fuckin' trust her, okay?"

"Okay," Hanta breathes back. And suddenly, he feels a hundred times better.

Trust you . Yes, he can definitely do that.

13 years old

You find yourself staring at Sero the next day during class. And again the next day. And the next. Until suddenly week has gone by of you observing him and it's the last day of term.

You’ve found out a lot about him during your starring. Not personal information. But the little things that all of a sudden you’ve started to notice.

You’ve found that he never wears short sleeve shirts. And the the shirts he does where are always baggy and a little too big. You’ve found that he’s not always awkward and quiet; he’ll open up around some of his friends and you’ll hear him laughing across the classroom. But only some. You’ve found that he wears necklaces, but they’re always tucked away beneath the collars of his shirts. You’ve found that his ears are actually pierced but he doesn’t wear any earrings at school because it’s not part of the dress code. You’ve found that he actually puts a lot of effort into his studies, and he’s in the top five in the class. You’ve found that he goes to the gym to train every second afternoon. You’ve found that he doodles in his school books; usually, sketches of potential hero costumes. You’ve found that he genuinely cares about people, and he’ll always lend a hand, if quietly, when someone is in need of it. You’ve found that he loves manga, and will sometimes sit by himself at lunch, just reading. You’ve found that he has to tie his bangs up during tests, because they get in his face and distract him. You’ve found that he always has to be doing something with his hand to concentrate.

And you’ve found that he actually also stares at you , a lot more than you’d previously realised.

Although, odd as is it, you don’t actually mind all that much.

You don’t talk to him any more than you did before the whole incident in the nurse's office. But the atmosphere between you feels slightly warmer now. You smile when you meet his eyes, and most of the time, he smiles back.

(Or tries to at least, behind the bright red cheeks and wide eyes)

For no reason at all, you feel closer to him.

Unfortunately, it hasn’t gone unnoticed.

They corner you when the bell of lunch goes on the last day of the spring term. You don’t think it’s what they’re doing at first; assuming with a bright-eyed innocence that they’d simple come to your table to chat a little before you all head to the cafeteria together.

However when you look up and see the dark looks on all of your friend’s faces, something in your gut sinks a little.

“We need to talk,” is what Shizuku says. And it's all you need to know something is wrong.

It’s Suzuki who starts. She fiddles with her fingers, then the hem of her skirt, and then her fingers again. She seems awkward; they all do. Like she doesn’t quite know where to start. Immediately, an alarm bell goes off in your head.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, just to break the silence. You don’t really need to ask - you’ve known all these girls for years. Shizuku and Suzuki have been with you since elementary school, and are probably the two closest people you have on the planet. You can read their faces right now. And you can tell that something is wrong. The real question is… what?

“Well, yeah. Kinda. We, um, w-well,” Shizuku begins to stumble out. But she trips over the words, obviously knowing what she wants to say but not quite how to say it.

Something deep within you goes cold. And you realise suddenly why they’re all here. And why they’re all looking at you .

“Did… I do something?” you ask them, already knowing the answer. But also dreading it.

The looks they give each other is all the answer you need.

You zone out after that. Or not zone out - it’s more like you don’t process what’s happening. They - Shizuku and Suzuki - tell you a lot of things. Despite their awkwardness at the beginning, once they get going, they don’t ever seem to stop. They talk about how you’ve been distant, and how you haven’t paid attention to them. They talk about how they feel like you’re not putting effort into the friendship, at least not as much as they are. They talk about how you haven’t checked up on them recently.

Shizuku says she “needs some space.”

And Suzuki says that “it would be better for both parties is we all just took a step back.”

You don’t really understand. You don’t even know where any of this is coming from. Your brain is struggling to process what’s happening because it’s all so sudden, and you don’t think you’ve been any different than normal - at least, not to them.

You don’t get it. At all. But they don’t make any effort to explain things further. And then before you know it, you’re apologising. And thanking them for telling you, even though you’re not grateful for it at all.

And then you’re making some shitty excuse about work you need to do, and you leave, taking all your things with you.

You only really realise what’s actually just happened once you’re far away from the classroom, and standing sullenly in one of the empty outdoor courtyards.

You think you cry then. You’re still not entirely sure as your brain spins and you replay your conversation over and over and over again in your mind.

Then the sound of a stick cracking beneath someone’s foot breaks the still air and you whirl around to see none other than Sero, frozen in place a few metres behind you as he evidently tries to cross the courtyard in silence.

For a moment, you stare at each other.

Then Sero turn and takes a single step forward. He says you name, softly and worriedly, and you realise suddenly that he’s staring hard at your face. At your eyes.

You put your hand up to touch the skin of your cheek, find it wet. Then hastily you scrub at it, rubbing away the tears that have fallen.

“I’m fine,” you tell him shortly. Very shortly - in fact, your voice is clipped and harsh. Something flashes through his eyes at the sound of it, maybe hurt, maybe worry, and you almost expect him to turn away. It’s evident you don’t want him around right now, your tense shoulders and harsh eyes say that much. You’re caught off guard and you don’t want anyone to see you crying. For some reason, especially not him.

But, much to your surprise, he doesn’t back down. Determination settles over his expression and he takes another step.

And he says, “You’re not.”

“I am.”

He shakes his head. “You’re crying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You’re about to protest, because really he has no right to speak to you like that. He’s not being rude but he’s being firm and it has your gears grinding as you stand glaring at him. He doesn’t know me at all, you think hotly, your hand curling into fists at your sides. He doesn’t know shit. Why is he…?

But your thoughts trail off when he steps even closer and suddenly you’re close enough to see the real, genuine concern in his eyes. He cares, you realise with a violent start, your heart thudding so hard against your ribs it's almost painful. He actually cares.

You're not entirely sure how to feel about that, and it makes even more tears well up in your eyes. You try to turn away, wanting to avoid his stare, but he catches you before you can, a gentle hand on your arm. His other hand goes to your shoulder as you're pulled in his direction and suddenly the pair of you are nose to nose. He's so close you can count his eyelashes.

"Hey," he says as his eyes flicker back and forth between your own. His eyebrows scrunch up a little. "Hey, are you…okay?"

And just like that you feel something crack deep inside you. The tears burn as they flood your eyes and your lip trembles. The ache in your chest is so intense it locks up your throat and it's all you can do to let out a single sob.

In hindsight, you're sure you'd really freaked Sero out. However he doesn't let you see any of it now, as he pulls you into a tight hug without a word. One of his hands slides around your waist while the other presses into the back of your head, keeping your nose buried in his shoulder. He shushes you softly, in a way that is so out of character for the awkward, stuttering boy you usually know that in any other situation you probably would've laughed.

You don't now, obviously. Instead you hug him back, taking refuge in this new, unfamiliar comfort. You don't talk, don't try to explain what's going through your head; you just cry because it's really the only thing you can do right now.

Neither of you are sure how long you end up standing there for. And you don't really care either way. Sero smells nice - very faintly like white rose and dark, rich chocolate- and already your heart rate is beginning to steady as you breathe him in. His arms around you are warm and you can feel his heartbeat in your own chest, steady and rhythmic.

You only pull away when the school bell rings, loud and jarring across the courtyard. Your eyes widen a little and you all but stumble back as your cheeks burn with a bright flush.

"U-um," you mumble out, avoiding Sero's eyes. "Sorry."

He shakes his head, still watching you cautiously and you get the feeling he's worried that you're going to start crying again.

"I'm fine," you reassure before he can ask, your hands dropping to smooth out the hem of your cardigan. "I just… yeah, um, sorry."

"It's okay," he tells you genuinely, running a hand through his hair. "Just… are you sure you're good to go back to class?"

You nod hastily. In truth you're not entirely sure - all your friends will be in that class and the idea of facing them all over again sends a special kind of pain through your chest. You don't have any other option though, and so you figure it's best to suck it up, just for the last few hours of the day. Then you can go on summer break and not have to be around them for a few weeks.

You think you're hiding what's going through your mind pretty well, but when you look back up to meets Sero's eyes again, fully prepared to offer him a fake smile and an excuse, you see the knowing expression on his face.

"Hey, if you want," he starts, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "I could… walk with you back to class? "

"I…" you stop, staring at him. It's not the most monumental of offers and yet… it means something to you, something that you can't quite explain.

"I'd… actually really appreciate that," you mumble out, staring down at your toes. "If… If it's okay with you."

"O-of course!" Sero tells you and you notice his blush and stutter is returning. It brings a small smile to your lips. "We are in the same class so it's not like I'm going anywhere else anyway!"

"R-right," you agree and tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. "We should probably go…"

"Yeah," he nods along. "Come on."

The pair of you start walking and for a moment everything is silent. You can't help but sneak glances at him out of the corner of your eye and, you have a feeling that he's doing the same to you. It's awkward, really awkward, for a few seconds at least, until you reach the door back into the school.

But then, when Sero holds it open for you and allows you to go through ahead of him, you grit your teeth and do something that, years later, you will credit as being the start if everything you ever had with Sero.

You reach out and grab his hand.

23 years old

Hanta gets home a lot later than he'd expected to. Usually these nights out with the boys wrap up after just a couple of hours, since there's almost always someone in the group drinking heavily enough to reach the point of incoherence less than forty minutes in. Tonight, however, despite the fact that Denki did eventually slump over the table and fall completely asleep, everyone had hung around a lot longer than normal.

Hanta doubts it has anything explicitly to do with him. The conversation he'd had with Bakugou wrapped up immediately after that last piece of advice and then Hanta himself had done everything to try and steer the topic if conversation to something different once again. He can't deny, however, that the energy around the table had changed a lot with Bakugou's words, growing lighter immediately and more cheerful. Hanta certainly felt it; that bubble had remained for the rest of the evening, even once it was over, sitting happily in his chest as he drove home and then when he unlocked the apartment door.

He's not surprised to find everything in darkness once he steps inside. You don't usually wait up for him during events like these and he's glad you don't - you need every second of sleep you can get and he likes nothing better than to sneak in through the darkness and find you all curled up in the large king bed, more likely than not cuddling his pillow.

This is why he doesn't bother turning any of the lights on as he sets his keys down, and why he bypasses everything else in the apartment to head right for the bedroom as soon as his shoes and coat are off.

It's just a dark in there, he finds, as out in the rest of the house and for a moment he has to pause by the doorway and squint in an attempt to adjust his vision. It's a pretty dark night already, with no moon and cloud cover, and the blackout curtains completely mute any glow from the surrounding city that might try to find its way inside. He can still see you though, once his eyes adjust to the dark, and it's very hard for him to control his smile as for a moment he just stands still and stares.

If he's honest with himself, this is more than he ever could have wanted. And it's moments like this that allow him to acknowledge that. You look so peaceful in your sleep, with your hair loose and one arm curled up against your shoulder. More than that, you look older. A lot of the time, Hanta genuinely thinks that his vision of you is often skewed by the image of his best friend from middle school, and as a result he sometimes fails to see the mature young woman you've grown into. The mature and very very beautiful young woman.

You shift a little as if you feel his eyes on you, turning you face just slightly as your eyelashes flutter against the curve of your cheek. Hanta watches the movement as he slips his way deeper into the room, now heading to the en suite bathroom. He almost feels bad when he flicks the light switch on, sending a beam of gold across the room and right over your face for a brief moment before he steps inside and shuts the door as quickly as he can.

His shower is lightening fast as his eyes droop at the corners. The fatigue of the day is hitting him, finally, and he does his best to be as quick as possible as he just rinses the dirt of the evening away and then climbs into the pair of sweatpants you must have put on the counter in anticipation of just this happening.

Hanta smiles a little at the thought as he brushes his teeth. He's always picked up on the little details of his relationship with you, and yet they still never fail to fill him with a special kind of warmth. It has him even more eager to finish up his nightly routine and head off to bed, looking forward greatly to the moment he gets to haul you on top of his chest and snuggle the life out of you.

He doesn't expect you to be awake when he finally exits the bathroom. He's preoccupied with pushing the damp strands of his dark hair out of his face, and so doesn't notice the glitter of your eyes as he flicks off the bathroom light and crosses the room to your shared bed.

He feels it though, when you reach for him and grab his hand, tugging him down onto the bed with surprising strength. Hanta let's of a muffle oof! as he hits the mattress and then shifts, twisting his body so he can settle face to face with you as best as he can.

"Well, hello," he says, just a little cheeky. You give him sleepy smile in response, one he's only just able to see through the darkness of the room, and tighten your grip on his fingers a little.

"D'you just get home?" you ask, voice thick with sleep. Hanta makes an "uh huh" noise as he snuggles closer to you, wriggling his way under the covers as he sneaks an arm around your back.

"How was it?" you mumble, pressing your nose into his collarbone.

"The usual. Denki got hammered, Bakugou cussed out Mineta… nothing social," Hanta tells you, shrugging with one shoulder. You smile a little into his skin and nod once.

"Sounds nice.:

"It was," Hanta agrees, smiling a little. "Oh, and Kiri sent more pictures of his baby so we went through those. I swear that kid looks just like him."

"You'll have to show me in the morning," you tell him. "I always knew Kiri was gonna have a cute kid."

"Oh, you did?" Hanta remarks, half teasing. You nod in response and adjust the angle of your head a little so you nose and mouth are pressed into the crook of his neck.

"I did."

"How so?"

"Cuz Kirishima is adorable," you say, matter of factly. "So any kid of his is gonna be the sweetest thing to ever bless this earth."

Hanta actually agrees with you. But he still pouts for a second and pulls you a little closer, his hand sliding from your middle to your lower back.

"You think he's adorable?"

"Who doesn't," you mumble back. And Hanta can't really find a counter argument to that.

"Point taken. Our kid would be cuter though."

"You think?"

"Oh, absolutely," Hanta says, one hundred percent certain. "No offence to Kirishima's baby but if we had a kid, it would be the literal best thing to ever exist."

"I think you're biased," you tell him pointedly, but Hanta had heard the smile in your voice. "Parents always think that their own child is the best."

"No but think about it," Hanta says. He shuffles away a little to look properly at your face, a glint in his eyes. "Just imagine it. Not only would it be the best looking baby ever, but it would be so smart too! Provided it got your brains."

You chuckle a little and Hanta feels his heart leap as he watches the corners of your eyes crinkle up a little. "It seems like you've given this a lot of though," you remark. "Does the topic of our hypothetical child grace your thoughts often, Hanta?"

Hanta blushes. He can't help it - you've caught him fair and square. He also can't help the smile that spreads over his face as he looks down at you, eyes roving over each contour of your features before locking with your own.

"Maybe it does," he admits, shrugging one shoulder again. "I can't really help it."

"That's cute."

"What's cute?"

"Your infatuation with our relationship," you tell him, your voice soft and sweet. Hanta makes a face.

"I'm not infatuated with out relationship."

"I think you are."

"I'm infatuated with you," Hanta says. "Only you."

You lean up your press a soft kiss to his jaw in response. Hanta's eyes flicker closed at the feeling and his grip on your waist tightens briefly. You react by shuffling yourself a little closer and suddenly you're practically on top of him, with your arms sliding up around his neck and your thighs rubbing up against his.

It takes Hanta an eternity to register the fact that your legs are bare. And when he finally does it makes his cheeks colour a little pink.

"You…" he begins as his hand sneaks downwards, from laying flay against your lower back to the curve of your hip and then up and over to the meat of your thigh. His eyes widen as he feels his way across your body and discovers you're wearing only panties on your bottom half.

"Hanta…" you mumble in reply before leaning up to kiss his jaw again. And it's then, as your lips ghost across the edge of his jawline an he feels the soft drag of your fingertips sneaking up into his dark hair, that Hanta gets his first inkling of where tonight may be headed.

Suddenly, he's no longer tired.

It starts out soft, as always. Soft touches, soft whispers. Hanta's hands brushing up against you, feeling your skin and the way your muscles move beneath it. It’s inquisitive, as if it’s happening for the first time all over again; an exploration , one might call it. Really, it’s Hanta refamiliarising himself with you, and reassuring you. Makings sure you understand.

He doesn’t really need to; he knows you like the back of his hand after being with you for so long. He knows all your responses and all your reactions, and he knows how to communicate properly. But he likes to do it anyway, every time. It’s another way of showing his love for you, he supposes, something that he doesn’t ever think he does enough of.

It’s also, he supposes, somewhat of a mental preparation for himself. Because he knows from experience that as soon as you get your hands on him, truly on him , his mind is going to go flying completely out the window.

You’re the one to make the first move tonight, as you reach for the back of his head and pull him down to meet your lips in a soft kiss. It starts out slow, like you’re just tasting him, and as you lips caress his in a touch that feels feather-light, Hanta feels just a little bit like he’s drowning. In a good way.

Your hand stays on the back of his head, your fingers sneaking their way into his thick, dark hair. He can feel the way you entwine your fingers in the strands, which presumably squeezes some moisture from it as a drop of water rolls done the back of his neck. He can ignore it easily though as he focusses on you and the way you’re kissing and touching him. Your body is moving now, shifting as you bring yourself closer and then you really are on top of him, thighs on either side of his hip bones as you push him gently down into the mattress.

Hanta sighs softly when you pull away from the kiss. For a moment he stays as he is, head flopped back against the pillow with his eyes closed and his heart pounding away in his chest. But then he feels your hand shift, come up to his face. You fingers drift across his forehead, pushing away one long strand of black hair to tuck it back by his ear. That’s when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze in the darkened room. And what he sees only makes him grin.

You’re gorgeous, so damn gorgeous. You have been since he’d first met you but now as he stares up at you, seeing the way your hair frames your face and your eyes are still half-lidded from sleep, it stokes the fire that’s always burning in his heart just for you. For a very brief moment, he’s taken back to the first time he’d ever kissed you, back in middle school when you’d both played truth or dare at a birthday party, and you’d both been unceremoniously shoved into a closet for a round of Seven Minutes In Heaven when it came time for his turn, and how he’d sat across from you in the dark, scared out of his mind, until you’d kissed him yourself.

It’s totally different from the kisses you share now. That had been a simple peck between two friends, done to appease the masses of middle schoolers at a birthday party. What you have now is mature, it’s sensual, it’s heavy. It makes his toes curl and his heart pound, and has the muscles in his lower abdomen fluttering. But it’s you still, always you.

He finds that there’s something very beautiful about that.

“Hanta,” you whisper down to him in a soft, sweet voice. “Hanta, touch me.”

And he does, gladly.

His hands go to your thighs, your soft, bare thighs which line his hips. He slips his fingers up them, feeling your skin, mapping out the shape of each one. He follows them upwards, reaches your hips. Then he grips you and pulls your body a little, shifting you on top of him so you’re lined up right where he needs you.

You moan a little at the feeling and the sound almost makes Hanta’s eyes roll back. He forces himself to hold out though, determined to drag things out for your sake. It’s been a while since either of you did anything more than a five minute fuck in the shower and if Hanta is honest with himself, he’s desperate for the intimacy that you provide. He needs you, yes, but he also needs everything that you represent. And he’s determined to make this good.

You lean down when he drags you over his crotch for a second time, your lips going back to his jaw. Hanta’s eyes slip closed as you kiss along his skin, sucking harder once you’ve made your way a little further down his neck. He lets go of your hips and allows his hands to continue on their journey up your body, going first to your waist then to your back and then to your shoulders. His thumbs rub up against where he can feel your collarbones beneath your skin, and then he kisses you again, on the mouth, slow and sensual in a way that all but screams “I'm going to make you feel good.”

You moan against his lips and then whimper when his tongue slips out. It meets yours and the kiss is deepened; enough so that Hanta can’t really help the way his hips roll upward to grind into you once again. You reciprocate immediately and then Hanta lets out a whine of his own as he feels one of your hands sliding from his shoulder to his chest and then further down his abdomen.

“Fuck, baby-” he whispers out into a silence, only met with a soft hum of approval from you. “Baby, you’re so-!”

“I'm here,” you breathe out to him, right against his lips. Your other hand goes to grab at his own, where it’s still settled on your shoulder. And then you move it yourself, pulling it away from your collarbone to press his palm up against the soft bulge of your breast. “Keep touching me while I touch you, my love.”

The sound of your voice is all that's needed for Hanta to melt completely, and the actual words you're saying are just a bonus. He’s totally desperate by now, completely and totally lost in you, and so he does as you ask and massages slowly at the soft flesh of your breast. You hum in approval as your hand continues to slide down his body, and then a soft groan slips from between your lips as he pinches at your nipple through the t-shirt you’re wearing, rolling it slowly between his thumb and forefinger.

“I love you,’ he whispers up to you and catches the smile you flash down to him in return.

“I adore you,” you whisper down to him in reply and then lean forward to kiss his lips again. At the same time your hand, still sliding lower, finally finds what you're looking for. Hanta's body jolts a little as your fingers rub up and over the bulge in his sweats, and then he lets out an audible whimper.

"Holy-"

You smile against him and then pull away properly to sit back a little further so you all but tower over him. Hanta feels his heart rate begin to speed up as he gazes up at you with adoring eyes. His hand is still on your beast, and he makes a special effort to pinch at your nipper again to get your attention. You respond by increasing the pressure on his dick by just a little before backing off again, and smirking like a fucking deviant when Hanta huffs out a complaint.

"We're equal," you whisper softly to him, rolling your hips forward a little as you do so. "Tease m and I'll tease you back."

Despite his desperation, Hanta manages to find it in himself to quirk his eyebrow at you. "Tease you?" he says, a smirk of his own tugging at his mouth. "Baby, you haven't seen shit yet."

You tilt your head a little to the side, your eyes sparkling, and Hanta suddenly gets the feeling this is exactly exactly you want from him. Not that he minds; he's very very happy to give whatever you desire.

"Oh?" You ask him, blinking in the most innocent way you can. Hanta feels something crack within him.

"What if…" he asks you slowly, as his hand leaves your chest and beginning to trail down your body. "What if… I do this ?"

It's easy to get to that spot between your legs with how you're straddling him. And Hanta can't deny how the widening of your eyes in soft surprise when he trails his fingers over your clothed core sends a spark of dark, hot want right through his gut.

You're only wearing panties. Very thin ones that do absolutely nothing to conceal how hot you are between your legs. Or how wet .

Hanta feels himself suck in a shaky breath when he first feels it, how there's actually a damp spot darkening the fabric of your underwear. The tip of his finger brushes over it once in his initial exploration, and then returns almost immediately, and he presses against you with a little more pressure. It has you jumping a little at the touch, and your eyes roll back briefly as a shock of pleasure rushing through you. Hanta can't help but smile.

"See," he tells you as he continues to stroke through your panties. "This is teasing, sweet girl."

You hum a little in response, your face flushing slightly. But when you force your eyes open and look down at him once again, you gaze is only slightly clouded.

"I suppose I've gotta return the favour, huh?"

You grip on his crotch tightens just a bit once again and Hanta just about chokes. "Yeah, that'd be nice," he manages to hiss through his teeth, his breath jumping in his chest as pleasure spikes through his abdomen briefly.

You let out a soft snort and adjust the shoulder of your t-shirt a little before you settle into a rhythm. Your hand is so warm against him, heat that seeps through his thick material of his sweatpants and right down to his cock. He was already achingly hard before this, and you're only making everything so much more intense . So much so that he almost forgets that he's supposed to be touching you.

Almost.

His fingers press up against you when his mind returns to the task at hand, enough to get you to falter in your own movements. And then he takes complete advantage of your limp form and flips you right over, so your back is pressed to the mattress and he's now supporting himself on his forearms above you.

You don't seem surprised by the switch. If anything it's like you were expecting it when you reach for him, hand curling around the back of his head so you can pull him down to kiss him again. At the same time you grab at his wrist and all but shove his hand between your legs.

Hanta takes that as his cue and slips his hand into the confines of your panties. His fingertips trail over the familiar feeling of your body until they find what he's looking for. And he moans into your mouth when they do, his brain buffering for a good feel seconds at the feeling of how fucking wet you are.

You whine under him as his fingertips tease along your entrance, gathering up your slick and massaging it into the soft skin of your labia. Your hips jump a little and you inhale sharply. And then you moan properly when he bypasses everything else to dip one long finger right inside your core.

"H-Hanta, ah fuck!"

Hanta finds himself smiling at the breathiness of your voice, almost a little giddy. More blood rushes to his cock as he stares down at you, watching the way your face twists up and your mouth forms the shape of an 'o' as he curls his finger just a little inside you. Getting you off has always gotten him off, right from the start of your sexual relationship, and even now he can just about feel the nerves in his crotch working overtime, as his aching dick is straining at the material of his sweats.

You let out a choked noise when he slides his finger up to rub tight circles over your clit. Your slick has his fingers slipping against you, absolutely soaked, and the feeling spurs him on. He needs you, he fucking needs you . But first, he needs you to come.

“I’m here, gorgeous,” he whispers down to you as he leans forward to put his mouth by your ear. He feels you shiver under him as his breath ghosts across the skin of your neck, and then a ripple passes up your body as his pace on your clit quickens. Your thighs threaten to clamp together but Hanta sets his hips between them, preventing them from closing. And then he leans down to mouth at your neck and shoulder, all but smothering you in his love.

You whine and whimper, your voice growing higher, and Hanta recognises the way the muscles in your abdomen clamp up. Your hand comes up, freeing itself to slide up into his hair, and Hanta can’t help but let out a moan of his own when you wind your fingers into it and tug .

“Oh god ,” you choke out. Your thighs start to shake, and your hips buck up as your other hand scratches along the muscles of his back.

Hanta makes sure to kiss you as you come, sealing his lips to yours and invading your mouth with his tongue. You moan into him, your entire body rippling with pleasure as he feels your pussy pulse against his hand. And when he pulls back, once you’ve rolled off your high, he grins.

“Good?”

“Good,” you mumbled back. Your hand stays where it is in his hair. “More.”

Hanta doesn’t even need to ask. He can see the desire in your eyes and after years of getting to know you and your body, he understands what you need and when. And so he wastes not a single second in ripping his sweatpants and boxers down, kicking them away as gracefully as possible so he can settle himself back between your thighs.

You raise one leg immediately, and hook it up over his shoulder. And then Hanta feels it properly; the sticky glide of your soaking cunt across his cock. He chokes and then moans, his head dropping into the crook of your head as he balances himself on his forearms. You tilt your head back in response and let him kiss your skin as he gives a few experimental rocks forward, grinding himself up against you. You’re so wet, the skin of his cock is soaked already. And he can hear it in the way you’re whimpering with each grind; you need him just as much as he needs you.

He doesn’t wait much longer; he can't . He just reaches down to take himself in his hand, situating himself. And then, with a single, practiced thrust of his hips, he slips into you.

Your back arches upwards at the feeling, and the moan you let out is so fucking sweet it almost makes Hanta. You’re so familiar around him, your pussy warm and welcoming, and still so fucking tight. Hanta shudders at the feeling, his breaths becoming uneven as he struggles to ground himself for a moment.

But then he feels the tug of your fingers in his hair. And he feels the way you’re shaking under him, your breaths coming out as shaky little whimpers as you pull his head even further against your neck.

He kisses your skin. Once, twice, three times; as a reminder, and a comforter. To tell you he loves you. And then he rolls his hips.

Neither of you last much longer after that. And neither of you mind. The exhaustion is catching up and Hanta’s thrusts are sloppy right from the start. Your moans are lazy in his ear, as you let the pleasure take hold of you completely, and when Hanta raises his head briefly to kiss you on the lips, it’s messy and uncoordinated. Hanta doesn’t even care though, as with each roll of his hips, more and more pleasures spikes up his spine. You’re pulsing around him, sucking him in over and over, and he can feel his high building already. In anticipation, he reaches down to sloppy rub his thumb over your clit. You clamp down on him immediately, your walls tightening around his cock to the point that he’s almost choking. And then, only a few strokes later, you come undone.

The moans you let out, right in his ear, coupled with the pulsing of your cunt around his cock is all Hanta needs to come himself. And so he lets go with a groan, collapsing forward on top of you as he does so.

The pair of you lay there for a long while after, basking in the feeling of each other. Hanta’s breathing slows after a while, and he finds himself nuzzling into your neck. Your one hand is still in his hair, with you leg having slipped down to rest over his hips, and he can feel the other tracing up and down his sweaty back as you too come down from your orgasm. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his skin, mapping out the contours of his muscles. And then up, into his hair, where you play idly with a few of the longer strands that curl around the base of his neck.

For a while, there’s silence, broken only by the sound of both of your soft breathing. Then you turn your head a little, your lips ghosting over his temple, and mumble, “I love you,” into his hair.

Warmth blossoms deep in Hanta’s chest. He raises his head, balances himself on one forearm so he can look down at you properly. For a moment he studies your face, your features, tracing each one with his eyes. Then he leans down to leave a long, gentle kiss on your still slightly sweaty forehead.

“I love you too.”

#sero hanta x reader #hanta sero x reader #sero x reader #hanta sero #sero hanta #sero fanfic #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #my hero academia #sunshine #💙 blue's fics

71 notes · View notes

heartbreakprincewille · 1 year

Note

I don’t think Sara would throw August under the bus for things she did. I think she built an August in her head and majorly failed to realize that he wasn’t like that. Going to him in the first place was very shitty but I don’t think they can be put on the same level of shittiness when she wasn’t the only one who didn’t tell Simon. "She used him to get to Hillerska by hiding her knowledge about the video, and both Felice and Simon should know about it imo." I think the same can be said about Felice tbh. She never cared to tell Sara or Simon about August when it concerned them more or as much as it did her. She was friendly with Simon and never told him she watched the video of his face so much that she figured out who it was, and that she only figured it out to keep Sara at Hillerska and because Wille was sad. I love Felice but she doesn’t care about Simon that much, she cares because people she loves care about him. Wille didn’t want to tell Simon at first and Simon called him out on it. Sara isn’t the only problematic one with keeping secrets.

The fact that Sara tells August that he’s delusional with the horse and that she reports the crime tells us that this is truly what she wanted from the start. Again, it doesn’t excuse starting a relationship with him in the first place but Sara saw all the sweet parts of August. She thought he was changing and tbh many of us thought that too until we saw more of him. I don’t agree with most of her actions this season but from her pov? He was regretting it and wanted to change. Her pov shifted to reality like a much needed slap in the face with the gun scene when she told him that he had failed her like he had failed every single person around him. (Sorry that’s long)

I mean, Felice was made to sign an NDA (Frederika talks about it in the café scene in S2 E1) and although what the NDA was about was never explicitly revealed, it must be about her knowing that August leaked the video. I mean, Wilhelm must have told the Queen from whom he found out who leaked the video and he would have told her that it was Felice(or if Wilhelm would have refused to tell them then the Royal Court must have figured it out themselves). A NDA is a legally-bounding document, its breach can lead to serious legal consequences, and Felice must have been made to sign one to not tell anyone and frolic it around like gossip. I don't think she never cared to tell anyone, I think she must have kept it to herself on Wilhelm's request and after the Christmas holidays, the NDA.

Also about Felice not caring about Simon enough, I mean, is she supposed to? Yes, Simon is a very important person to the people Felice loves(Wilhelm and Sara), but Simon and Felice are just on cordial terms, they are not "besties", to put it more bluntly. And as much as I would LOVE to see them become besties, right now they aren't. It's just that we as the audience know and follow all the five characters closely that we often fail to see things from their perspectives. Even in real life, there are many instances where we know SO MUCH about our friend's good friends but we barely interact with that actual person. It's just very normal. Plus the same can be said for Wilhelm and Sara.

I agree so much with the last para though! It really seemed like August was changing for the better, but then.....yelp. Rest is history. It makes perfect sense for other people to think that August manipulated her, because they have seen August like that. Felice was worried for Sara because her own experience with August was shit and she didn't wanted to see Sara go through the same things. But Sara was the only one who saw the tender sides of August, his vulnerability. I wonder how she looks back upon everything in hindsight.

(also never apologize to send me long asks they literally give me serotonin boosts like no other)

#I'm loving this discussion way too much ajkhsjkhdj #young royals

9 notes · View notes

return-of-a-space-cowboy · 3 years

Text

The Princess who became a swan pt2

You had a look of displeasure as you were forced to sit on Kars lap as he stroked your hair while reading a book. Occasionally you would shift your leg only to hear the chains rattle.

“Dear swan, are you so eager to leave the nest?” Kars asked in his usual condescending tone. You merely huffed as you sat on the cold marble floor.

“Are you mad about the cage? I can assure you that it’s for your safety, I can’t have you nearly killed again” he cooed as he reached for your shoulder only to have you slap it.

“Sometimes in hindsight I think to myself that maybe I should have let him kill me, I’d have rather that than have you degrade me further like this…” you spoke with venom in your words.

“I promise you I’ll leave someday… and I’ll never come back to this hell” you continued which he responded with a smirk.

“You really are such a brat, I offer you protection and heal your wound and you repay me by spitting it right back in my face” he spoke as he normally did, however the sudden tense atmosphere made you regret what you said.

“Even if you were to leave I know you’ll come back, where else do you have to go?” he chuckled as his crimson eyes pierced your soul.

“You have the stupidity to speak so venomously to me, yet you cower when I acknowledge your words” he continued before grabbing you from the back of your head.

“You really shouldn't keep trying to push me away, because if you do… then you’ll have no one”

🦢🦢🦢

For days and days Joseph couldn’t help but think about the maiden in the forest. He talked and talked about her refined features to his rivaling knight. As more days passed he heard talks between his Mother and various officials from kingdoms near and far in arrangement of a soiree and the mentioning of finding someone to marry him off to.

He knew in his heart that he had to find her again as he couldn’t bare the thought of another woman, so for many days and nights he searched the land in hopes to find her but with no luck of seeing the maiden in white he’d seen on that fateful night, perhaps she was a woman of the wind only to vanish and never return.

As the soiree approached his hopes grew less but he was too stubborn to give up anything he started.

🦢🦢🦢

You waited inside of a golden cage, shaking it as you flapped your wings in anger as you saw Kars return. If he had been a moment later your human form would have been mangled inside of it but he had no care for your wellbeing as you were merely a pet or at worst an object in his eyes.

“Oh I’m dearly sorry my swan, you must have been so restless for my return” he spoke as if he was making his words sound like some vague attempt at an apology. He finally opened the lock and let you free from your small cell into the bigger one you had been confined in for so long.

You looked back up at the moon through the window with a heavy heart as you returned to your human form. Then a bright idea sparked in your mind before you ran up to Kars and wrapped your arms around him, he was surprised but enjoyed the sudden affection.

“Oh yes I have my love... for I have realized how harsh I’ve treated you, my one and only” you spoke with crocodile tears in your eyes. He looked down on you and smiled but did not let his guard down as he was cautious of what malice intentions were hidden behind your teary eyes.

For days you held up your act as much as it sickened you deep down like a bitter poison. letting his hands touch you in a way that made your skin crawl as he wished and returning such words of affection that made you want to gag on them.

As you sat beside him letting his fingers brush through your hair while reading one of the many books in his collections you finally decided to fulfill your plans now that you were no longer in chains.

“I’m parched, do you want a cup of tea made while I make some for myself” you asked knowing that he hadn’t had a drink for quite some time.

“Yes my swan, I’d enjoy that” he replied, still paying attention to his book. You looked to the window and saw that it was not long to sunrise before heading to the kitchen and heating some water over a fire. You grabbed a pair of fine porcelain tea cups and placing them on a tray, you fiddled you hand in the pocket of your dress before grabbing a vial filled with a white powder and pouring it’s contents into one of the cups and in the other you added a teaspoon of dried petals from various flowers.

As the water had finished boiling you added the tea leaves to his cup. Adding the water you carefully stirred the sleeping powder into his drink, making sure the powder fully dissolved into the tea before adding the rest of the water into your cup. You returned to him with the tray in hand and placed it on the coffee table beside him. You picked up your cup and sat beside him.

As you let your tea cool in your hands you tried not to look at him, the anticipation was too much. You kept looking in the corner of your eye to take a sip.

“Why do you keep glancing at me like that?” he asked as he noticed your strange behaviour.

“I’m just a little anxious… It’ll be morning soon and you’ll probably throw me in that cage again…” you muttered before finally taking a sip of your tea.

“Perhaps I’ve been too harsh on you my swan, you’ve been so well behaved that I think it is only fair that you have the privilege to sleep beside me” he spoke as his fingers twirled the strands of your hair before taking a sip of tea. He noticed a bitterness on his palette as he drank it, he gave you a glance but spoke no more words.

Eventually he finished the cup and continued to read for a few minutes before he was overcome by sleep. You sat up and took a few soft steps before running as fast as you could to escape from his domain into the darkness of the last hours of night. Where heavy clouds passed through the tall, old trees. Thunder roared in the distance, warning those of it's fast journey forward towards them.

🦢🦢🦢

As morning arrived the rain pelted down against your wings unforgivingly as you tried to fly below the blackened clouds. You grew tired as you had flown for hours, yet your stomach ached knowing that you were still within Kars reach. By now he would have woken up and caught on to what you had pulled on him.

You found yourself succumbing to exhaustion, your body dipping lower as your eyelids grew heavy. You finally decided to take cover in the forest below. You found an old, hollowed tree and nested yourself inside it to take shelter while you regained your strength.

As you slept you dreamt of many fantasies both good and bad, your wishes of reuniting with your family came to fruition only to be snatched away by the nightmares of Kars tormenting you through your existence. The lines between dream and nightmare overlapped so many times that it became disorientating.

You heard an incoherent voice that aroused you from your deep slumber. You rubbed your eyes before opening them even then your vision was still a blur.

The first thing you noticed was the bright moon that made the figure in front of you a mere silhouette before your vision cleared enough to reveal the man who had shot you with the arrow.

You cowered back a bit in fear of the male, unintentionally letting out a squeak.

"Aww are you a scared little mouse" he snarky commented with a slight chuckle, loosely reminiscent of how Kars mocked you. Your expression turned sour as you looked at him, which made him avoid direct eye contact.

"Ok ok, I'm sorry… don't take it like that" he responded before holding out his hand to help you up.

"I was wondering what happened to you that other night, you were in a real hurry with that arrow in your arm" he said as he waited for you to take his hand, which you reluctantly did.

"You should at least say something, it's rude to not respond when a prince is talking to you" he commented as he didn't like it when others ignored him.

"At least give me your name" he continued as he pinched your cheek. You pulled away before you finally spoke.

"I don't want to tell you my name" you hissed in response. Sure it seemed harsh but if word were to spread about your emergence it would break your heart. You couldn't bring yourself to show yourself to your parents and explain what happened since your Disappearance, or the consequences that Kars would condemn you to.

In your thoughts Joseph could see your expression soften and reveal the sadness in your dazzling eyes. He pitied you for that, how such a beauty could wear such a morbid look was criminal.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the male tapped the tip of your nose while exclaiming bop in a goofy manner.

You were taken back by his action, maybe just because you've been starved of touch from the others in the world. He laughed at your confused reaction.

“What’s so funny?” you asked him as you frowned. He chuckled as he ruffled your head.

“You’re really uptight for someone who hides out in the woods at night” he commented.

"Well I have my reasons" you sternly replied as you folded your arms.

"What, are you an escaped convict or something? Have you got a bunch of bandits hiding in the trees ready to strike me down" he mocked as he rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"I wish, all you need to know is that I'm a fugitive and I don't have a lot of time to waste dilly dallying with an egocentric jerk like you, now if you excuse me I have to get back on my journey" you explained through a clenched jaw as you tried to storm of only for him to grab your wrist.

"Aw come on, I didn't mean for you to get the wrong idea… if you need help I can give it to you, how about I take you back to my castle? I can make sure whatever you're trying to get away from doesn't find you" he offered but you shook your head profusely as you pulled your hand away from him.

"No, I can't… it's impossible" you replied abruptly.

"Why-" he was going to ask before you cut him off.

"Because I can't…" you said bluntly as you put your hands on your hips.

"Well whatever is going on with you I can Help… I promise you, just tell me what you want?" He said as looked at you with such a needy attitude.

"Perhaps you could bring me some food, it's rather hard forging in the woods" you said, when you offered an inch he took a mile.

"Of course I'll bring you some food, I'll bring you some every night" he offered before realising how late he'd been out.

"I should probably head back home now my swan, tomorrow I'll return" he said as he kissed you on the cheek before leaving you alone once more. He thought calling you his swan was endearing but it only made you since as it reminded you of who you had escaped.

He seemed absolutely infatuated with you. It clicked in your mind that maybe if you loosened up to him, maybe he would vow his love to you.

As written in Kars notes the victim must have another that is unaware of the curse proclaim their love to them and keep their promise til they wed. All you needed was to keep up the loving act until you married him and hide the curse.

#yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere #fairy tale au #yandere kars #yandere joseph joestar

69 notes · View notes

bbyboybrock--archived · 3 years

Text

Happy New Year (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* Can you do one where they are strangers and meet each other during a new years eve party and then end up kissing each other when the ball drops and make it super romantic (not in covid times) pretty please

Written: 2021

Word Count: 2,040

Warnings: Swearing, mention of being roofied, breakup

Masterlist

I sit in the uber, waiting for everyone to get out. Maybe they’ll be too excited about the party to realize that I went home. Maybe I should escape out the other door and disappear into the night. I didn’t even want to come out tonight in the first place. After the year I’ve had, going to an influencer party is the last place I want to attend. Unluckily for me, my best friends were tired of me staying in my apartment all day, every day, and refused to let me ring in the new year alone. Sadly, this meant that I had to go with them to a party because my apartment gave off “depression vibes” and that “wasn’t the move” for 2021. That’s the only thing that I agreed with them on, the vibe thing, not going to a party.

After nearly a year of quarantine and processing a breakup, my place is a bit of a disaster. If it wasn’t for Janie ambushing me every day last week to help/force me to clean up, my apartment would still look like that cave where the grinch lives— minus Max. There were various alcohol bottles collecting dust on the counter. Not in a “she’s spiraling very rapidly” sort of way, but in a way that you could tell that I had a rough few weeks and the occasional wine night with the gals. There were boxes, mostly from March and April, that I still had yet to throw out after impose buying a bunch of stuff. My closet had turned into my bed because that was the only safe space that wasn’t cluttered with food packaging or tainted by memories that no longer bring me joy. I hadn’t properly seen my floor in months until we pulled back the layer of filth. I forgot that I had carpet. Still, after all that, I managed to make videos every week without fail.

“Y/N, c’mon, you’re not escaping this time. Let’s go so you can forget that asshole and that backstabbing bitch.” Persephone begs as she pulls me out of the car. Once out of the car, she adjusts her long, dark brown curls and smooths out her dress before reconnecting to her boyfriend’s hip. They both match with their gold and black outfits. All of my friends and their significant others match. Ophelia and her girlfriend are wearing silver and blue while Janie and her boyfriend are wearing maroon and gold. They all look like gods and goddesses and here I am wearing green and sliver on my own. Could I be anymore single?

“I’m not going to do it, I was just thinking about it. Don’t worry. I have to get footage for the vlog anyway. Gotta prove that I did something other than stay home this year. My fans are getting concerned.” I pull out my camera and get a few clips of everyone.

“Might as well get some pictures then so people will believe you.”1 Ophelia winks before grabbing me and leading us to what I’m assuming is the designated photo spot. There’s even a line. This is going to be one of those nights.

****

“Aw, fuck…” I mutter to myself as my drink gets knocked out of my hand. This house isn’t big enough for the number of people that were invited.

“I am so sorry! Here, let me help you.” The guy who bumped into me extends his hand for me to grab. I’m sober enough to know not to take completely random strangers' hands at parties, especially in LA, but I’m also drunk enough to not care. He looks nice enough and I can spot Ophelia and her girlfriend Zoe keeping an eye on me from the corner of the room. I guess everyone is taking turns to make sure I don’t bail.

Against better judgment, I take this beautiful stranger’s hand and let him guide me out of the house to the backyard. It’s less crowded out here, maybe because there are more activities to do inside. Out here, I can actually breathe even though people are smoking and vaping out here. The music is quieter. The music is still loud, but like it would burst your eardrum like the music inside. I get a better look at the guy who brought me out here. He’s not bad looking, and I really hope that’s not the alcohol talking. He has the most relaxing blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a guy. His hair is dark brown with a bit of, I think, purple in the front. He looks as threatening as a pug, but looks can be deceiving.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get any on you did I?” He asks as he scans my body, not in a creepy way. Which is a nice change of pace.

“My feet but they’re just shoes so I don’t care. I call these my going out shoes, they’re made for moments like this so you’re all good. I’m Y/N by the way.” I stick my hand out for him to shake. He looks at it puzzled for a second before it registers and he grabs my hand and gives it a firm shake.

“Right— I spilled your drink on you and basically kidnapped you from the party and you don’t even know my name. It’s Colby, Colby Brock.” Colby shakes my hand a little too long before quickly pulling it away.

“I’m Y/N, you can get the last name later,” I bite my bottom lip, close my eyes, and mentally slap my head. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”

“It’s fine. It’s a thousand times better than anything I would have come up with. Just blame it on the alcohol.”

We both laugh before Colby singles that he’ll be right back. I watch as Colby disappears a small group of people. I take off my shoes and walk to the pool, dipping my feet in as I sit. The cool night air is soothing me. It’s a nice change from the stale scent of my apartment and the sweaty bodies inside the party. I look up to the night sky. The light pollution makes it impossible to see what stars and constellations are above us. Whatever I’m staring at right now feels peaceful, like they are aligned or not in retrograde. I have no idea what any of that means, but I do know that I’ve been around Ophelia too much.

Colby taps my shoulder when he gets back. He kicks off his shoes and socks before joining me in the pool, not even rolling up his pant legs. He’s going to regret that in a few hours. He hands me an unopened can of Truly. I take it from him and open it myself. At least I know he’s not a creep. He opens a can of White Claw and sips it before breaking the silence.

“I have to be honest, Y/N.” Colby looks forward, taking another sip.

“Oh no, what is it?” I ask nervously.

“The real reason I dropped your drink is because I saw some asshole slip something in your drink.” Colby finally looks at me and I can tell he’s serious.

“Wait…what? Someone tried to… Any you thought the best was to inform me was to spill my drink all over me?” I’m more taken aback by the idea of me almost getting roofied than anything. That would have been the perfect way to end this shit storm of a year.

“In hindsight, I planned to spill your drink. I didn’t mean to get any on you. I’m not a hundred percent sober right now so that was the downside of my plan. Don’t worry about the guy, my friend Corey went after him.”

“Wow— Uh, thank you. I mean it. I don’t think I could have dealt with… that on top of everything else I had to handle this year.” I take a sip of my drink and swing my legs in the water.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not big on talking about serious stuff with strangers, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to. However, we’re both getting hammered, if we aren’t already, so the likely hood of us even remembering this conversation tomorrow let alone who we are slim. So if you need to vent, vent.”

I weigh the pros and cons of actually venting everything to this beautiful stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I decided to say fuck it. The year is almost over anyway, might as well get rid of this baggage and start the year fresh.

“Long story short: after months of quarantining together Axl, my boyfriend of 10 years, cheated on me. The entire time we were in quarantine. With my younger sister, who I let quarantine with us so she wouldn’t be alone and not have to fly back home to be with our parents. And to top it all off, I found out about it on my birthday when I walked in on them fucking each other on my bed.” I take a larger sip of my drink before leaning back and staring back at the virtually starless sky.

“Holy fucking shit,” Colby leans back to join me in looking at the sky.

“Yup! We met in preschool and started dating when we were 13. She’s four years younger than us to that’s annoying.”

“Not to be that guy, but I don’t know what you expected when you started dating a guy named Axl.”

“… You’re right, that is a pretty douchey name. I literally ignored the biggest red flag in my entire life.”

Colby and I laugh again until it fades. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much, like actually laughed, in months. It feels good. Inside the house, the crowd starts counting down from 15. Colby must have heard it too because I watch him turn his head from the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face him. He really does have beautiful eyes. Like the ocean.

“This may be a dumb idea and I know we don’t know each other, but do you want to be my new years kiss?”

“I may regret this in the future, but what the hell.” We both sit up and adjust our clothes.

It might be risky to just kiss a random stranger at midnight, but who cares. We’re most likely not going to be in each other’s lives after tonight anyway. But by God, I could do much worse than kissing Colby. Unless I’m very drunk and the drunk goggles are seriously fucking with me. It’s not like I’m going home with him, my friends won’t let that happen. Maybe after this party, we’ll go our separate ways and never see each other again. Maybe we’ll run into each other in a random store in LA or at some creator convention.

The drunken yells of party-goers inch closer and closer to midnight.

“Three,” Colby whispers, moving his hair out of his face.

“Two,” I take one more small sip before finally setting my drink down. Colby does the same. My heart is beating a loud, steady rhythm in my chest like it’s about to burst.

“One,” We whisper at the same time before slowly leaning in.

As our lips touch, it felt like time had stopped. The beating intense beating in my heart only intensifies the longer our lips stay pressed together. One of Colby’s hands finds my face why the other reaches for my thigh, but I can only focus on how soft his lips are. My stomach starts forming knots as he tries to deepen the kiss. I don’t know if it’s everything I drank tonight coursing through my veins or the fact that I haven’t been kissed in months, but I slightly part my lips. The mixture of Colby’s scent and his body heat wash over me like they’re intoxicating my senses. The kiss ends just as suddenly as it started. We both pull away and just stare at each other in awe.

“L/N,” I breathe, fixing my hair.

“What?” Colby takes another sip of his drink.

“My last name is L/N.”

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock imagines #imagine #imagines #sam and colby imagines #sam and colby imagine #colby #fluff #fluff imagine #fluff imagines #colby brock x reader #sam and colby

237 notes · View notes

ktheist · 3 years

Note

for the drabble game: college!taehyung + sentence starters + no. 8 under misc

8. “But I’ve never told you that before.”

muses. fratboy!taehyung / college!taehyung

kim taehyung and you have an odd relationship.

you’re not even friends, really. just two friends of a friend who makes an accquaintance and happened to find themselves in a secluded class some time after 5, once most of the classes are vacant. the lecturers have their own rooms and the classes are manned by persons from the admin and they hardly ever come around until 8pm when it’s time to lock the doors.

you find out taehyung’s obsession for art and he finds out your obsession for interior design. at least yours isn’t too far off from what mechanical engineering entails.

at some point, you can even say your interests are like two streams running side by side until it mingles at one point in time.

then, you find out that he’s part of one of the most notorious fraternities for their wild parties that lasts for three days straight at the end of every semester. and oh, here’s the good part, only the popular ones get invited.

“figures why you haven’t heard of me,” you tease.

“what? no! i-i’ve heard of you, i just didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you,” his wide-eyed gaze hints at a sort of innocence his brothers lack.

you wonder how he got sucked into the frat house shenanigans.

“chill, i was kidding, i’ve been laying low anyway,” you wave a hand.

“wh-what? why?” he asks and you’re not particularly restricted to telling him the reason.

“first year, jimin and i would’ve celebrated our 4th year anniversary - if you can’t tell, we were high school sweethearts,” you laugh, chest still prickled with the kind of pain only time can heal, “but yeeun came along, he fell for her and since she’s more popular, everyone just started believing that i was the one who got in between her and jimin.”

the rage in taehyung’s eyes spread like wildfire, burning and tearing down everything in its path until you place a hand on his shoulder and he looks at you as if you’re a goddess sent to placate hades’ wrath.

“it’s chill, at least i’m one heartbreak away from finding the right one,” you say.

but taehyung finds you with puffy cheeks and pink eyes as you walk out of the bathroom. it’s no surprise and yet it is. kim yeeun spilled coffee all over your hair and shirt and the slap you give her still reverberates against the walls of the lecture hall.

your friends who came out a second later connects the two dots and nudges you towards taehyung before scurrying away, but not with a threat of ‘you better not make her cry more, kim taehyung’.

why they left you with a boy you barely know is beyond you - but perhaps it’s got to do with the fact that delta psi is in tight rivalry of beta nu, the frat jimin’s been loyal to after he broke your heart and gave his to the girl that’s been microaggressively picking on you since day one.

“i heard the red mark on kim yeeun’s face is still there,” he casually says three days after he’s been running up to you every time he sees you somewhere in the large building made for sleepless engineering students.

“it better, i almost twisted my wrist because of it,” you roll your eyes but taehyung must have known that the hostility is awkward, forced.

then, so it goes, the many instances where kim taehyung and you would be spotted laughing or walking together as if he’s the boy who mended the broken girl’s heart.

unbeknownst to them that you’re the one gradually breaking taehyung’s heart with your ‘you know what, i’ve never had a guy friend’ and ‘chill, you’re scaring my potential boyfriends!’ at parties he starts bringing you to.

“i can’t wait to see johnny again,” you confess, smile curling on your lips as you nudge taehyung’s elbow, “aren’t you curious who this johnny-from-hometown is? might be another subject of you death glares.”

surprisingly, kim taehyung doesn’t bat an eye at the mysterious mention of the name.

“i know, she’s your cat.”

he keeps on walking whilst you stop dead in your track. it doesn’t even take fiv seconds to notice your lack of presence on his side before he stops too, twirling around and shooting you and arched eyebrow.

“but i’ve never told you that before,” you feel your own brows coming together in a frown.

“you mumble in your sleep,” taehyung points out as if it’s the most obvious thing to do.

“oh,” you whole heartedly believe him, falling back into pace with him.

in hindsight, you should’ve probably been more careful when you talk about sleeping and being in each other’s presence whilst that activity was happening. even if it was just taehyung helping out a drunk and offering her shelter until morning comes.

“yoo jia heard it with her own ears! they’re sleeping together!” is what’s been circulating around at the start of the week while you’re stretching your arms over your head as a yawn escapes you.

“i don’t wanna be that person, but,” jennie kim loops her arm around yours when she finds you in the hallway, heading to your shared class, “are you and kim taehyung finally dating?”

“finally?” you feel the muscles on your face contort into an ugly frown, “wait, does that mean there’s been speculations we were gonna end up dating? what?”

and that’s how you find out the rumor that starts up a fire throughout your whole class. by noon, it gets almost impossible to ignore those prying eyes that sticks with you as you stand in front of taehyung, “did you know? about the rumor?”

“can’t say i didn’t,” he shrugs.

“god-” you smack his arm and he dramatically raise his shoulders in brace for impact, “-damn it, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“what good would it do if i told you? ah! cuddlebugs, you’re hurting me!” his voice is exceptionally loud.

“c-cuddlebugs? what the-” you’re rendered frozen and wide-eyed by his tricks yet something in churns with butterflies.

“i’ll see you tonight, okay?” he pinches your cheek and slips past you with a sort of smirk that you’ve never seen him wear.

everything gets weirder from there after.

you become hyper aware of what kim taehyung does or say, the way he has two smiles; a pure box-ish one and a titled smirk that’s just enough to get your heart racing when paired with a rase of his eyebrows. there’s a hint of masculinity under the scent of fruity floral juul he smokes and sticks to his shirt. and his touches tingle. they tingle like a ghost of a touch lingering on the hand that he mindlessly holds to keep you from being pushed around by the wave of dancing bodies.

he laughs when you pull your hand away and crosses your arm over it, “chill, i wasn’t trying to make a pass on you, just making sure you’re still there when i turn around.”

you’ve had records of getting lost in the crowd when it comes to parties - and when are parties not crowded?

taehyung hands you an unopened can of beer and you look at him questioningly because he always pops it open for you, “you don’t trust me to hold your hand but you want me to open your drink for you?”

there’s an underlying brazenness in his teasing tonight, as if he’s mistakenly decided to wear a cloak of a frat boy than the kim taehyung you’ve known and loved.

as a friend that is.

“whatever,” you gulp down the drink with reckless abandon, appreciating the bitterness that somehow roots you to reality despite the impending buzz that’ll drive you away from said reality.

and then you’re back to your old self, laughing and joking around in that bench outside of taehyung’s frat house, sitting a little too closely until your thighs are perched on top of his and his hand is drawing circles on the outside of your thigh.

“i don’t like that,” you confess, “the way you’re trying to act all sexy and hot,” and without any warning, you take his face in your palms, squishing his cheeks, not enough to hurt but enough to make his eyes go wide with surprise and that innocent glint in them, “now, that’s better. that’s my taehyung.”

then his hand travels up from your thigh to your cheek, caressing the heated area of your face with his knuckles, “but if i’m the cute, childish taehyung, you won’t see me as a man.”

“man schman,” you huff, hands falling into your lap, “a real man won’t feel the need to act masculine to get a girl.”

“then... if i tell you i-”

and that’s when you lean so far back, almost hitting your head against the metal edge in the process if taehyung hadn’t caught you in time. eyes screwed shut and mouth partly open, you mumble, “man... schman...”

taehyung shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. he unzips his hoodie and wraps it around you - that’s another one he won’t get back, but he doesn’t mind as much because-

“you’re lucky i like you.”

#taehyung scenarios #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x reader #bts fic #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts au #bts fluff #bts drabbles #drabble game 1 #excerpt from a fic i'll never write

166 notes · View notes

journalxxx · 3 years

Text

By Hook or by Crook (6)

Hey kid. I’d like to have a chat with you, if you’re up to it. Would you be free this afternoon?

Izuku idly reread the text and the brief exchange that followed as he whiled away the few minutes left before the agreed time for the meeting.

Just a little over twenty-four hours before, Izuku had had a minor stroke at the mere thought of All Might texting him about a trip to the police station. Just a little over twenty-four hours before, he would have soared straight to cloud nine at the thought of All Might texting him ‘to have a chat’. It was a pity that the only emotion he could muster at the moment was a vague sense of stunned apathy.

“I’ll get that.” He informed no one in particular when the bell rang. The man installing what probably were legalized viruses on his laptop gave him an odd look, and his mother replied something indistinguishable from the bathroom. Izuku shuffled out of his room and unlocked the front door.

“Young Midoriya. Good afternoon.” All Might had reverted to his laid-back cargo pants and t-shirt attire. He seemed more tired and subdued as well, more like on the day Izuku had met him.

“Good afternoon.” Izuku gestured at him to come inside, which he did with a quiet thanks. He did not remove his shoes though, and he stopped only few steps in upon spotting the second man fiddling with the landline in the living room.

“Ah. Busy day, is it?” All Might acknowledged the technician with a knowing nod. He then turned towards Izuku and tilted his head towards the front door. “Say, how about we take a walk? I bet your house feels crowded enough without me imposing as well.”

His mother’s head peeked into the hallway. All Might greeted her with a little wave and a weirdly embarrassed grin.

“I’m going for a walk.” Izuku announced as he slipped his shoes on.

“Uhm, are you sure?” Her eyes shifted between All Might and him with ill-concealed unease.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Izuku cut short. He wasn’t in the mood for another discussion. “See you later.”

He strode out of the building without hesitation. He made his way down the stairs, through the parking lot, all the way to the sidewalk before stopping. All Might caught up with him a minute later, after lingering on the threshold to exchange a few words with his mother that Izuku decided he did not care about. He also decided to ignore the pointed stare the hero aimed at him when he finally reached him.

“Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?” All Might asked after a beat, gazing up and down the small road.

“Not really. You?”

“Any place is fine by me. I need to get reacquainted with this city, its layout is quite different from how I remember it.”

Right, All Might had just moved in. And Musutafu had likely changed a lot since his U.A. days… That would have been a tremendously interesting topic for a chat, Izuku could feel the questions popping up in his head in droves, despite everything. Unfortunately, he was under no illusion that what All Might wanted from him could be that kind of casual conversation.

They picked a random direction and started walking. For almost five minutes, they strolled without breathing a word. It wasn’t nearly as awkward as it would have been under any normal circumstances.

“Had another rough night?” All Might said eventually.

“Mh.” Easy guess. The bags under Izuku’s eyes would soon rival the fixed shadows circling the hero’s if he didn’t manage to rein in his sleeping schedule soon. The nightmares had ceased, thankfully, but his head had been so full of disjointed and clashing thoughts and memories that he hadn’t managed to catch some shut eye until so late that it had become early.

Nothing made sense. Everything made too much sense. In hindsight, it felt strange that Izuku had never contemplated the possibility himself. It also felt absurd that it could be true though, instead of some sort of huge misunderstanding. That his father could be-

“Oh, before I forget. The villain is faring much better.”

“Uh? What?” Izuku blinked.

“The sludge villain whose quirk you returned.” All Might graced him with a gentle smile. “I heard he was already mostly coherent by last night, and as of few hours ago he was firmly denying ever bearing any ‘serious’ ill intent towards you and your friend, demanding to see his lawyer and complaining about the quality of the lunch he was served.”

Guilt needled Izuku’s stomach upon realizing that the villain’s plight had completely escaped his mind since his return home from the police station. How poorly committed his sympathy was. “Oh. That’s… good, I guess?”

“We guess.” All Might chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve dealt with another incident that badly in years, but I’m glad that no one suffered any permanent damage, at least. And thank you again for bringing the matter to a close in my stead.”

“It’s hardly your fault if things went the way they did. But… yeah, I’m glad he’s okay and that it’s over.” Now if only that hadn’t sparked a much worse and much more scarring mishap, at least for Izuku… “Are you all right, by the way?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Have you managed to see a doctor yet? About, uh…” Izuku pointed at his own mouth, unsure how to describe the attack the man had suffered the day before, the likes of which Izuku had only seen in movies and cartoons, usually from people sporting deadly and gory upper body wounds.

All Might laughed with inexplicable, genuine mirth. “Oh, don’t worry! I wasn’t playing it cool when I said I was fine. It’s just a thing that happens. Usually it isn’t quite as, uh, dramatic, but it really is nothing concerning.”

“But… you hadn’t even used your quirk…” Izuku could not fathom how spraying blood like a fountain on a presumably regular basis couldn’t warrant seeking any kind of medical attention, but the hero waved off his objection with finality.

“Trust me, it’s fine. More importantly...“ All Might wasn’t looking at him. He seemed deeply focused in memorizing as much as he could of his surroundings, peering here and there at street nameplates, buildings, alleys… manholes too, amusingly. But the low and soft quality of his tone made it clear that he wasn’t asking just out of politeness. “What about you, kid? How are you?”

Izuku dropped his gaze to his feet and shrugged. It was an accurate answer, actually. He’d spent so many hours torturing himself with doubts and grief and confusion that at some point his brain had sort of… ran out of energy to spare for emotions. He supposed it wasn’t the worst response he could have had. Stolid empty-headedness was largely preferable to the scorching waves of betrayal, impending doom and overbearing dismay he’d sampled the day before.

“I imagine how difficult all this must be for you.“ All Might went on, just as tactfully. “Have you talked with your mother?”

Oh, scratch that. He was still capable of feeling something. His mother was enough of a sore topic to make him clench his fists. “...Yeah. I have.”

“...I don’t think-”

“She knew.” Yeah, he was still angry. It bubbled in his chest like boiling tar, thick and sticky and suffocating.

“She told you that?”

“I heard you three talking about it last night. I was listening from outside the living room.”

“What?!” All Might seemed genuinely shocked. It hadn’t been Izuku’s proudest moment, admittedly, but let’s be honest, what else was he supposed to do? Pretend that they weren’t discussing life-changing revelations just few meters away from his bed? He was only human. All Might slapped a large hand on his face and dragged it down alongside his pointy features with a groan. “Oh, come on…”

“She knew, and she never told me.” His nails were digging painfully in his palms and- oh great, now he was getting teary again. He’d held it together for the whole day and now he was going to lose it five minutes after All Might had showed up. For the third or fourth time in as many days. Sure, why not? It wasn’t like he’d managed to retain any sort of dignity since the very moment he’d met his idol. Why bother now? “S-She’s known since- since before marrying him- however that happened… I j-just...”

All Might regarded him silently for a moment. “...Things like these look very different from an outside perspective. Especially to someone as young as you are. It’s very easy to judge, and even easier to misjudge.”

“But she knew he was a criminal - one who would not even consider changing his ways for his family - and she… wanted him around anyway? Why would she do that?! It’s- I wouldn’t want an unrepentant villain still involved in illegal business around my son! He’d be... a bad influence, at the very least!”

“Before yesterday, have you ever thought that he could be having a bad influence on you?”

“Uh? No, I… I didn’t know that he was… I never… questioned...”

All Might sighed deeply. “Your father is a notoriously charismatic man. He’s always been particularly adept at coaxing people to his side without open coercion, but with simple, well-aimed words. You never suspected that he may have been acting in his own best interest while offering or withholding certain information from you, although it may seem obvious in hindsight. I bet he managed to instil the same trust in your mother, despite what she knew about him.”

“I…” Izuku rubbed away the tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He couldn’t understand. He just couldn’t. And it tore at him. “W-Was it because of the money? She never... I-I thought we were good, she n-never said anything… I-If I’d known, I would have… I wouldn’t have asked for… s-so many things, I-”

“I highly doubt that a few toys and games could have had that big of an impact on the family budget. There’s no reason for you to beat yourself up over anything.” All Might slipped his hands in his pockets, sympathy plain in his sunken eyes. “Your mother found herself in a very tricky situation, through no real fault of her own. She navigated it as best as she could, and I’m sure your well-being was her top priority. Seeing the healthy and upright young man you’ve grown into, I’d say she handled it admirably.”

“...I know.” Izuku knew it, really, he understood that. But… he’d always seen his mother as just about the most transparent, honest, sensible and sensitive person on Earth. And it turned out she didn't… exactly… meet that standard, however idealistic. It had been a blow, on top of everything else, one that had left him without a real, fully trustworthy figure when he most needed it. “I know that, but… she should have told me. At some point. There’s no excuse for not doing that.”

“Perhaps. It’s hard to predict the negative impact that such a confession may have on a younger child, but perhaps she should have.” The hero conceded. “I’d refrain from handing down verdicts though. You kept some secrets of your own from her. You hid your quirk-”

“But that’s not the same thing! Not even close! A quirk isn’t as big an omission as your father being a criminal!” Izuku snapped, then immediately hunched his back in regret, his tone losing some volume but not its bitterness. “And, you know, maybe, maybe I wouldn’t have listened to him so readily if someone had warned me that he isn’t exactly an upstanding citizen!”

“Look, it isn’t my place to comment on how things stand or should stand between you and your mother, or how you should behave, but… if there’s one thing you need to keep in mind - and please do keep it in mind, at all times - is that the one person who bears absolute and doubtless blame is your father. That’s the source of all the lies that have been fed to you. Lies and deception are… what he does, really. What he’s always done. You and your mother are both victims in all this.”

Izuku sniffed and wiped some tears and snot on his sleeve. It was gross, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was a logic to All Might’s words, but no logic justified the staggering duplicity that had just turned his life upside down. The unfairness of it all was simply too much to accept.

The boy looked up when All Might poked him on the shoulder to catch his attention.

“Speaking of which…” All Might swerved to the left, entering a smaller and more secluded lane leading away from the more trafficked routes. He had resumed his perusal of the area, and his expression had regained a firm, almost steely edge. Izuku followed him. “What I wanted to talk to you about concerns what transpired about your father, and how it will affect your life going forwards.”

No surprise there. The two plain-clothes agents that had shown up that morning, no doubt mourning the loss of their well-deserved Sunday rest, had been clear enough of a warning of some upheaval to the Midoriyas’ routine. All Might’s vague text had only cemented Izuku’s expectations of further disruptions.

“I hate being the bearer of bad news, but it is imperative for you to understand the gravity of your father’s position… especially to prevent him from enacting any sort of manipulation or control on you in the future.” The hero began. “The man you know as ‘Hisashi Midoriya’ goes under many aliases, so much so that we are still unaware of his real name. He has committed an astounding variety of serious crimes, over the course of decades. Even if your mother claims to be aware of his background, I assure you she doesn’t know the half of it.”

Izuku physically curled up under the weight of those words. It was… even worse than they thought? His father sounded more and more like some obscenely powerful yakuza boss or something, which was just… just...

“The police will be gathering and analyzing as much evidence as possible to find clues leading to his current location and activities. All possible forms of communications between you and him will be monitored. Your phones will be bugged, and any electronic devices you own will be fitted with tracking software. Your mail will be examined before delivery.” All Might paused, assessing Izuku’s lack of a reaction to his speech. “Did they tell you about this already?”

“S-Some of it, yeah.” Izuku’s gaze dropped to the asphalt again. The dried tears made the skin on his cheeks and around his eyes itch. “Will there be cameras too? Inside the house?”

“I haven’t heard about cameras. I don’t think so. Seeing as your father never set foot in your house, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to surveil it that closely from the inside. The outside will be watched, so we’d notice anyway if he tried to approach it.”

“...Okay.”

“...I know it’s an oppressive situation. No one likes having their privacy invaded. But know that the professionals in charge of monitoring you are utterly uninterested in you specifically, or in whatever you do with your free time, as long as it isn’t anything outrageously illegal.” All Might’s voice softened again, although not enough for Izuku to dare raise his eyes from the ground. “I hear they are especially unconcerned about peculiar web searches and piracy perpetrated by bored adolescents, and some such things. Anything that isn’t strictly related to the case at hand won’t ever make it into any reports.”

“Mh.” A couple of small mercies were better than none, Izuku guessed. He really couldn’t muster neither enthusiasm nor gratitude for them at the moment though.

“Ah, about this… Those monthly phone calls your mother mentioned are particularly relevant for the police. They are likely their best bet in pinpointing your father’s position.” All Might paused. “For that reason, we would appreciate your cooperation on that front.”

Izuku’s brain suddenly jolted into activity, a myriad of spy movies and comics coming to his mind and offering plenty of distressing scenarios he could be potentially thrusted into. “You mean like… you want me to help you find him? Get him to drop hints about where he is, or- or asking him to go somewhere where you can set up a trap, or-” Izuku looked back up at the man, without bothering to conceal the pure terror that such prospects filled him with.

“What? No, of course not!” All Might exclaimed, surprised. “I mean, it isn’t out of discussion that we may try to actively lure him out at some point, but that would take extensive preparations and precautions on our part. We’d need to gather more intel and agents, recruit other heroes first… We definitely aren’t considering taking any such steps yet.”

“O-Oh… okay…” He let out the tiniest sigh of relief. No wild capers… for now...

“Besides, even if we were, we wouldn’t use a child as bait! Your mother would be much more suited to assist us. Any request from her would have more sway on your father, and she would handle the pressure much better.”

“So… what do you want me to do then?”

All Might shrugged. “Just keep up appearances. Continue having your monthly calls with him as if nothing happened, so as not to alert him that something might be wrong.”

That wasn’t that big of a demand, objectively speaking, but... it didn’t seem feasible either. Izuku’s grasp on his own emotions was tenuous at best at the moment, and his father had always been exceptionally perceptive to his state. He really didn’t think he could endure up to two hours of small talk about heroes, quirks, school and assorted pleasantries without having some sort of breakdown halfway through. Izuku gulped, bracing himself for the inevitable scolding of his cowardice.

“...I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure if I can do that.”

Surprisingly, All Might wasn’t put off in the slightest. “In that case, you could ask your mother to pretend you got hurt in some way that prevents you from speaking. Bad tooth, removed tonsils, broken jaw, you name it. That would earn you at least another month of silence and… hopefully the investigation will make some progress in that time, or you’ll grow used enough to the situation to face him with a cool head.”

That was a reasonable approach to the issue. It was a relief to know that someone else was putting some thinking into all this in Izuku’s place, now that his already flimsy decisional autonomy had stumbled into the metaphorical equivalent of a bear trap. “...I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.” All Might nodded, strangely unperturbed by Izuku's less than proactive attitude. “Other than what I’ve mentioned, you will also be followed wherever you go whenever you aren’t at home or at school-”

“W-What?” Izuku instinctively glanced around, envisioning slow-moving cars or shady individuals with sunglasses and holed newspapers observing him from bushes.

The corners of All Might’s mouth twitched upwards. “You will not be aware of it, nor will anyone else, of course. It will have no actual impact on your daily life, like all the other measures we’ve already covered.”

“But why?” Izuku griped, his heart sinking so deep that it would soon pierce through the Earth’s mantle. “My father isn’t going to suddenly drop by to say hello, you just said so yourself!”

“It’s for your own protection too.” All traces of humor vanished instantly from the hero’s demeanor. “Your father is no stranger to violence. In the past, he has resorted to brutal and immoral means to dispose of his enemies, and... I’m sorry to say that he would not hesitate to employ such methods against his own family, if he deemed it a danger to his own safety.”

Izuku couldn’t hold back a little hysterical chuckle that sounded pitiful to his own ears. “That… sounds a bit exaggerated, doesn’t it? I-I get that he’s a bad guy, but… I really don’t think he’d do something like that to us. H-He’s never even raised his voice with me, never...”

“Midoriya. I beg you to believe me when I say that you can’t trust anything of what you think you know about your father.” All Might stopped to glare intently at a narrow, dingy alley littered with trash bags. “He is dangerous. Extraordinarily so. Tsukauchi is pushing for having further safety measures enforced for your family, and until those have been granted, please be very aware of your surroundings at all times. Refrain from taking unfamiliar routes, and stick to crowded areas whenever you can. I don’t want to scare you, but even having eyes on you at all times is no guarantee of a timely intervention, under unfavorable circumstances.”

“Is it… really that bad?” Izuku breathed, gutted by the unexpected harshness of the picture painted by All Might’s words. It was… inconceivable, still. His father, deliberately hurting him? His father, whose cutting sarcasm was just about the only vaguely hurtful trait Izuku had ever witnessed? His father, a hardened, soulless criminal averse to puns and All Might trivia, and yet always so willing to let Izuku torture him with both? His father, ambushing him from dark corners? “Is he really that bad?”

“Yes.”

“What did he…” Izuku started asking, only to trail off. It was a pointless question, with a clear answer. It had been buzzing in his head for the whole night, blindingly obvious by now. “...He steals quirks, doesn't he? That’s what he does. He... maims people for…”

“I’m afraid he isn’t nearly as conscientious as you in regards to-” All Might cut himself off with a visible flinch. “Wait, he told you about his quirk? You know it’s the same as yours?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You didn’t mention that to us.” Bright pinpricks of blue were suddenly trained on Izuku with piercing intensity. It kept catching him off guard, how both of the Symbol of Peace’s towering forms could switch from amicable to intimidating at the drop of a dime.

“I-I thought… He said it was a secret- one of his confidential matters. I’ve always thought he was some sort of… prison guard or undercover agent…” God, how unbelievably stupid it all sounded now. Izuku had never felt more childish.

“...That goes to show…” All Might mumbled, barely audibly. It unsettled Izuku. It went to show what? His father’s cunning? Izuku’s naivety? Or… surely not that he could be hiding something on purpose...

“I-I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I had no idea how- how serious- I’d never-”

“Mh?” The hero blinked at him, as if emerging from a private musing. “Ah, I mean… There could be some merit to the other thing I wanted to ask of you.”

Izuku just waited, barely able to withstand the acuity of the hero’s gaze without shrinking. After a few tense moments, All Might let out a sigh and resumed walking, his eyes wandering back to the street ahead.

“To be frank… Personally, I don’t think we’re going to achieve much from all these investigations.” He grimaced, as if regretting those words as soon as they left his mouth. “Not for lack of trying, mind you. Tsukauchi is an immensely capable and dedicated officer, he’ll pursue each lead as thoroughly as humanly possible, but… Your father knows how to cover his tracks. Phone calls, payments, mail, blatant cues like those have never brought us close to him in the past, not once. To his associates, yes, to his… ‘aftermaths’, yes. But never to him personally. His circumstances were always shrouded in impenetrable security. I doubt this case will be any different.”

Buildings gave way to the open horizon. They had reached the end of the street, which merged into a largest road running along the coast. They crossed it, and kept going on the opposite sidewalk, looking down on a thin stretch of sand separating them from the sea.

“That said… he did leave one huge trail for us to find this time. A whole family, out in the open.” All Might’s eyes returned to the boy pensively. “A breakthrough like this, if you’ll pass me the term, is unprecedented. The most obvious leads could turn out to be dead ends, but maybe there is something to be found in the smaller things.”

“The smaller things?”

The man gestured vaguely. “He’s been talking to you, has he not? To you and your mother both, for over a decade. Not that often, but… hell, he even told you about his quirk, and one would expect him to be very tight-lipped about that. There might be more to dig up. Details he may have deemed unimportant, or accidentally let slip. Hints. Small things.”

Izuku was finally catching the drift. “I’m really sorry, but… I know you probably can’t take my word for it, but I really don’t know anything about what he does, or ever did. He never let anything slip about his… his ‘job’...”

“Of course not, that’s not what I’m referring to. The thing is…” The hero clucked his tongue in frustration. “We know so little about the man himself as well. His identity, his background, his history… We know next to nothing about him, and what little we do know, we were only able to discover through very unconventional means. If there’s a chance to glean one more shred of information hidden among the fabrications, I think it’s worth pursuing it.”

“So the police are going to question us about… fourteen years’ worth of chit-chats?” That seemed like a disproportionate endeavor for something as volatile as the possibility of parsing an ounce of truth. Exactly how desperate were they to catch this increasingly perplexing father of his?

“That’s the gist of it, yes. And ideally, we would like to interview you separately, to avoid that either of you could, ehr… inadvertently censor yourselves about information not known by the other-”

“Like my quirk. Or dad’s ‘activities’.“ Izuku muttered.

“...Yes. Things like those.” All Might paused, then cleared his throat. “Well… given the delicate nature of the case, we are trying to keep the workforce to a minimum, and involve as few people as possible. This ought to speed up coordination and briefing, as well reduce the risk of information leaks. Tsukauchi will be personally questioning your mother… as well as direct the entire operation. He’s quite the multitasker. And, well… since technically I’m already involved and up to speed and I won’t be contributing to the proper detective work in any capacity… we thought I might take care of hearing your side of the story.”

A little Oh was the whole extent of Izuku’s reaction as the hero’s words washed over him. All Might seemed a little discouraged by that.

“We figured it might put you a little more at ease… Talking with someone you’re already familiar with, instead of a brand new face. And, ehr… well, you mentioned being a fan, so…” He elaborated, his hands drawing half-formed shapes in the air to underline his words. He looked… almost nervous? “It’s just a possibility, of course. If you’d rather be entrusted to a proper member of the force, it’s well within your rights to request that.”

Izuku did not miss the underlying meaning of that winding speech. It was within his rights to request who he wanted to be interviewed by, not if.

“Do I even have a choice?” All Might’s guilty grimace was all the reply Izuku needed. “...No, sorry, I… That’s a stupid question. I’ve no reason to refuse either.” Surely not the faint sense of betrayal knocking on his conscience at that very moment. Could he even feel bad about betraying someone who’d never been honest with him in the first place?

“...I know it’s far from an enticing perspective.” All Might rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “It’s going to eat up a lot of your time, and people are never exactly eager to ‘snitch’ on relatives, even when they’re criminals. But I really think it could be of great help to us.”

So that was the role Izuku was going to have in this whole mess, that of a very oddly-shaped piece in a very complicated puzzle. It could be worse, he supposed. Being stuck in a room talking with the number one hero for hours could hardly be considered a real punishment. Were the topic of the conversation literally anything else, it’d be a dream coming true, even. He should push that angle on himself, Izuku pondered. Maybe he could talk himself into enjoying the whole thing, in some way.

“Since I’m no policeman, I’m amenable to reward you for the time and effort you’ll generously dedicate to the task with suitable bribing. I was thinking snacks, if that doesn’t come off as too cheap.” All Might continued with a tentative grin, although his attempt at levity didn’t stick the landing. “No? How about, ehr… All Might merch?” For some reason, his face scrunched up as if the suggestion physically pained him.

Izuku sighed. There was no point in fighting the inevitable, was there? “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“...Thank you, that is very good to hear.” All Might smiled with evident relief. He patted Izuku’s shoulder encouragingly. “I’ll say, you’re taking all this a lot better than I was expecting. For all the crying, you have quite the resilient attitude. Heroic, even!”

Izuku let out a half-choked sob. Oh. Oh, wow, that realization hurt. He hadn’t thought about that since… had it really only been a couple of days since making it into U.A. had been his biggest concern in life? And now…

“Ehr… Sorry, did I say something wrong?” All Might asked when faced with the new bout of tears streaming down the boy’s cheeks. Izuku shook his head.

“S-Sorry, it’s just… I-I guess that’s the closest I’ll ever get to becoming a hero now, uh?”

“What?”

“There’s no way they’ll let me anywhere near a hero course now, is there? My father told me it was basically impossible before, and now...”

“Your father told you that you couldn’t be a hero? Your father who is a villain?” All Might gave him a pointed look. “You may want to start reevaluating some of the nuggets of wisdom he’s been imparting on you in light of the new revelations, kid.”

“But he’s right, isn’t he?” Izuku griped. “It’s even worse now that he turned out to be a villain! A bad one too! Abusing the same overpowered quirk I have, it’s just… too great a bias, isn’t it?”

All Might seemed caught off guard, then he frowned and looked away without replying. There it was, the naked truth. Not even an attempt at a rebuttal. Out of discussion. Izuku’s dreams scattered to the wind, without hope of salvation.

“Y-You know, I actually thought… I could work my way around it.” Izuku continued among the sniffles, dropping his gaze to the ground. “I thought I could just pretend to be quirkless. F-For a while. Pass the test like that, make some friends, get… get trusted as a hero because of my work. A-and then, then one day, just… after everyone trusted me, I thought I could come out clean. And start using my quirk for good. I thought it could work. Get others to know me before my quirk. B-But it’s never going to happen now. The police know, the school will know.”

“...I must say that building your budding hero career on a lie isn’t the most solid plan I’ve ever heard.” There was no accusation in All Might’s tone, but his words still cut deep.

“I know…” Izuku bit his lip. He’d known, but what alternatives did he have?

“But I guess we can’t all carelessly parade our true selves before public scrutiny, can we?” The man sighed, scratching his own head. “You are right about one thing though. Actions do speak louder than words. You might not be able to talk your way out of your… delicate circumstances, but factual demonstrations of good intentions can go a long way.”

“That’s… That’s all I’m asking for!” Izuku’s head snapped up, desperately latching onto that single lifeline. “I would do whatever it takes to be allowed to try!”

“Well, I’d say you’re already on the right path then. Cooperating with the police is definitely a good step to establish good faith.” All Might flashed him a sheepish smile. ”...I’m not saying that just to grind my own axe, I swear.”

“Do you think it would be enough for U.A. to let me attempt the test?”

“You want to apply to U.A?” The hero seemed strangely surprised.

“Yeah. Is it… not a good idea?”

All Might took a few moments to reply. “...It might work in your favor, actually. U.A. is famous for the degree of self-determination afforded to its management by the government. If you’re worried about external interference, U.A. is your best bet to avoid it.”

A tiny, shy flicker of hope ignited in Izuku’s chest.

“...I’ve known the principal of U.A High School for a long time. He’s a bit of an eccentric, but one with an impeccable work ethic.” All Might resumed after a moment. “He’s not the kind of person to let unfair judgement undermine his institute. Especially if it prevented an aspiring hero he deems worthy from being appointed his student.”

“You mean that…?”

“I mean that if you do plan to apply to U.A. you could have a chance of making it in, regardless of your unfavorable background. If you pass the admission test, that is.” All Might suddenly stopped walking. “...What is this?”

Izuku blinked, ripped out of his thoughts, and took in the portion of the seafront they had reached. Wow, he really hadn’t been paying any attention to where they were going, had he? “...Oh. It’s, ehr… an illegal dumping site, I guess.”

“Really?” All Might commented, eyeing the sad, disregarded No Dumping sign welcoming its disobedient visitors.

“Yeah. The currents always bring flotsam to this area, so it was never clean in the first place. And then people started taking advantage of it…”

“And no one ever comes here to pick up any of this?” Strangely, the sight and the slight stench of mounds of rusting metal and assorted junk didn’t bother All Might, who climbed down the few steps separating the sidewalk from the beach.

“No, the city administration never took an interest. Everyone else just avoids this spot altogether. It’s been getting worse over the years.” Izuku had no idea why All Might was studying the piles of dismissed appliances as if they might hold some hidden treasures within, but he felt rather dumb for accidentally introducing this to the hero, of all places in Musutafu, as his first sightseeing landmark. “Sorry, I should have brought us somewhere else.”

“It’s fine.” Undaunted, All Might wandered deeply into the maze of refuse, with Izuku ruefully tagging along. “A safe, handy spot where a passing criminal in a hurry could stash some loot, don’t you think? Good to know.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” Right. That was what it meant for a hero to know his turf, right? It went beyond street names and layouts. It meant to be aware of how each location could lend itself to certain criminal activities, what places could make for good improvised hideouts, where civilians were more or less likely to be gathered...

“How were you planning on passing the admission test?” All Might asked when they reached the water’s edge, eyes fixed on the waves crashing on the sand.

“Uhm. Well, I’ve already started reviewing the subjects listed in the syllabus…”

“I was referring to the practical session, actually.”

“Oh, uhm… Well, I tried looking for information about it online, but there doesn’t seem to be any. Apparently it’s U.A.’s policy to bind all participants to non-disclosure. They say that observing how potential candidates react to unexpected situations is part of the evaluation process, so…”

All Might looked at Izuku, his expression blank. “Yes. So?”

“Ehr.” Suddenly Izuku felt extremely on the spot. “W-Well, without knowing what I’m getting into, I don’t really have any specific strategies in mind.”

All Might cocked his head with a slight frown. “What about generic strategies? What skills were you going to capitalize on?”

“I… Well… I thought I’d just… try my best. Improvise and use my head.”

All Might blinked. “...That is what everyone else is going to do too. Except everyone else will also have a quirk to rely on, while you weren’t going to use yours. That’s a massive disadvantage right there.”

“Yes, I know.” Izuku clasped his hand behind his back in shame. That was an excellent point, one that somehow no one had ever raised with him. Everyone, including his father, instantly shot down his idea as soon it left his mouth. No one had ever asked him to elaborate on the practical details. Which he had sort of… failed to sort out so far.

“And you have no notion as to how to bridge that gap.”

“Not… not yet.”

All Might crossed his arms, sporting possibly the harshest expression Izuku had seen on him yet. It made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. “...Are you serious about this hero thing? Are you sure it isn’t just a passing fancy?”

“It isn’t! It absolutely isn’t!” Izuku answered immediately. “I just… I don’t even know if I’m allowed to bring any tools, or-”

“Tools?” All Might scoffed as he walked back to him and gave him a critical once-over. “Looks to me you already have all the tools you need, if you deigned to consider them.”

“Uh?”

“You have arms, don’t you? Hands. Legs. Arguably a head.” All Might poked at each listed limb with a bony finger as he started circling him like a starved shark. “All in working order, yes?”

“Y-Yes- I mean, I’m not ill or anything, but-”

“Then why aren’t you trying to capitalize on those? A quirk is an important part of a person, but it’s not the only one! You have a body, use it!”

“Ah, yes, I…” Izuku gulped. “It would make sense to, uh, try to get a little stronger, I guess…”

“You guess? ” All Might was reaching yet unexplored levels of visible exasperation, which was saying something considering the whole secret-villainous-father debacle. Izuku didn’t know if getting the number one hero so worked up about his little pipe dream should be considered flattering or shameful. “Being a hero isn’t a desk job! Running fast, lifting heavy weights, enduring fatigue are not optional skills! No matter what quirk they have, no hero worth their salt can neglect to keep in excellent shape!”

“R-Right. Of course. It’s just that, uh…” Izuku fidgeted. “I’m not really good at that sort of… physical stuff. I’ve always been a bit on the scrawny side, and I get tired easily, and I’m no good at brawling-”

“Despite training?”

“...I’ve never followed a proper training regimen, but…”

All Might rubbed his hands on his face. “Kid, unless they have a physical-enhancing quirk, people aren’t just born strong. They get strong by training - do I really have this state this out loud?”

Izuku was fairly sure his face was about to spontaneously combust. Of all the things he’d expected to happen in his near future, being scolded by All Might in person for his lack of commitment to physical activity was not one of them. “Y-You are right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to disrespect you or your profession…”

“You didn’t, I was just… You seemed passionate about this two days ago...” All Might trailed off. “My point is that all the equity in the world won’t net you a place in U.A. if you don’t pass that test. And if you really are serious about raising your chances of becoming a hero, you have to give this some serious thought, and soon. You can cram months of study into weeks if you have the brains for it, but you cannot do the same with workouts.”

Izuku willed himself to hold his head up straighter. “I-I will. Thank you for your advice, it makes a lot of sense.”

The silence that descended between them was more than a little awkward.

“I’ve pestered you enough for today, haven’t I?” All Might eventually said as he took off towards the sidewalk. “Let’s go back.”

Izuku trailed behind the hero as they made their way among the waste, and almost bumped on him when he slowed to a stop to stare at a particularly high pile of contorted, rusty scraps.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I was just thinking that… What I need is a quiet, lonely place to have some private chats with you, and what you need is a way to work up some muscle and rack up some good karma, right?” All Might scratched his chin as he scanned the heaps of trash hiding the rest of the city from view. “...Say, how do you feel about community service?”

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #All Might #Toshinori Yagi #deku #izuku midoriya

18 notes · View notes

askultimateluckytrash · 2 years

Note

I'm dying to know, did you really think Hajime was in love with Chiaki?

"Yes. I still think that.

Well-- actually, no. I didn't think that Hajime was in love with Chiaki, but now I do.

When I was in the Neo World Program, I didn't think that at all. I spent a lot time with Hajime, and even when he wouldn't talk to me, I tried to be near him anyway. I saw who he chose to spend his time with. I almost never saw him talking to Chiaki. I didn't even think they were friends. Hajime never sought her out. He never spent any time with her. He didn't confide in her or ask her for advice. He never even talked about her, and as far as I knew, he didn't think about her either. It's not just me that he didn't talk about her to-- I asked Fuyuhiko, Sonia, Mikan, Ibuki, and Kazuichi. But they never heard him talk about her either. The only time Hajime talked to Chiaki was during trials and investigations, and that was because she approached him. Hajime made a point of talking to everyone in investigations. So, no, I didn't think they were in love. I didn't even think they were friends.

I'll admit, I was jealous even then. I never really liked her, even during the Neo World Program. It's not that I disliked her, I just didn't like her either. I didn't have much of an opinion about her at all. I thought she was rude sometimes, especially when she first met Hajime, but what do I care if someone is rude to me? And it's her business if she's rude to other people. I was still friendly to her, even if I didn't feel any kind of connection or closeness between us. I still wanted to be friends. It makes sense now, in hindsight. She wasn't a real Symbol of Hope. Of course I didn't like her as much as my other classmates. But I still didn't dislike her as much as I did Teruteru, or Kazuichi. But anyway, I did get jealous of her, even if I didn't like her. In the first investigation, when Hajime was going to pair off with me but Chiaki forced him to go with her instead-- that irritated me. I got jealous, then. I thought she was trying to move in on him, when I really wanted him for myself. I had showed him around the island trying my best to be his friend, and she was threatening to just talk to him once and take it all away because she was prettier than me. But even though I was jealous, I was jealous because I thought she was trying to come between us. I never thought-- never even suspected that Hajime might like her. He never acted like it at all.

But then...I got out of the Neo World Program, and everyone insisted that they were in love. It was like a slap to the face. Suddenly, out of nowhere, all I can see or hear is how much Hajime loved Chiaki. Everyone is telling me how much they're in love, how much they were meant to be together, and how they're soulmates. Here I had hoped...I knew it wasn't true, but I had hoped that Hajime might love me, and instead...I was being told that he loved someone who he'd barely ever spoken to. It couldn't even be one of my friends-- Sonia or Mikan or Ibuki. It had to be her, the one who had been a threat from the start. The one who wasn't a real Ultimate Student. The one who wasn't good enough for him. Why should he love her and not me-- or anyone else from our class, when we exist and she isn't even real? I was in disbelief. At first, I tried to deny it. There was no way that he loved her, right? But everyone in the world was saying it. Everyone was insisting it. Everyone was insisting that it was so true, and that there was no possible way to deny it, that there was no possible way that someone wouldn't believe that they were in love. How could I stand up against all of that? If everyone tells you something all the time, over and over, and doesn't even acknowledge the possibility that it could be wrong-- eventually, you start to believe it. So I believe it now. I believe that he was in love with her. They must have got that from somewhere, right? They couldn't just...pull it from nothing. And it hurts me because...Well, they keep saying that he would be so much happier with her. That they are perfect for each other. That they belong together. And if everything else they say is true, then that must be too. That...That he'd be happier with her than with me. That he secretly wants her instead. That he's only settling for me because he can't have her. That she would always be his first choice. And if that's true, then he doesn't love me at all, and that hurts. If he loved her, and I killed her, how much must he hate me? It hurts a lot to see everyone in the entire world say that the person you love most belongs with someone else. That they would be happier with someone else. That they should and would always choose someone else over you. I can't fight it anymore. Maybe this is just the bad luck I deserve, because of the good luck that he likes me in the first place.

The worst part of it all? They expect me to be happy about it, ahaha. They expect me to be some kind of wingman for Hajime and set him up with Chiaki. To send them off together waving and smiling, with my blessing, as if nothing is wrong in the world. To be happy for them, to wish them the best, to be glad that the love of my life ran off with someone else. Of course if Hajime picked her, I would want him to be happy. Of course. But that doesn't mean that I would be happy about it. It would break my heart to see him leave me, and for her out of everyone-- someone who isn't an Ultimate Student and doesn't even exist. I wouldn't be happy about it. It would break my heart. I definitely wouldn't be the one to set it up. Do they really think I just...love Chiaki so much that I would give her my soulmate? I'm sorry. I'm too bad of a person for that. I don't like her, and I won't give him up until he leaves me. I'm not going to push them together and then...be so happy and supportive of them. That's how they expect me to act. To be supportive of them all the time. To be ecstatic that they're together and constantly talk about how cute they are as a couple. They must not think of me as a person at all...Not that I deserve to be thought of as a person anyway. But I wouldn't just...follow Chiaki and Hajime around and be a supportive witness to their relationship. I wouldn't just go around putting them together, talking to them about how cute they are, talking to each about how much they love the other. Don't they all realize how much that would kill me? If Hajime and Chiaki ended up together, I wouldn't want to see either of them ever again. Clearly, they wouldn't need me or want me in their lives. Why would I stay and bother them? It would hurt us all less if I just left, so that's what I would do. If they got together, I wouldn't just stay to watch it happen every single day. I couldn't do that. It would hurt me too much. If they got together, I would just disappear forever, and I would never talk to either of them again unless they reached out to me first. I...wouldn't want to be friends with them if all I could ever do was witness their perfect love. Do people really think that anyone would want that? They really don't think of me at all...They don't think about how it would make me feel. Everything that they talk about-- I guess I only exist to be a camera or a vessel for Chiaki and Hajime's true love. But I love Hajime. Don't they realize that it would kill me? I...Well, I don't think they care."

1 note · View note

sithsecrets · 4 years

Text

Turn Off the Shyness

The new waitress at Duck Tape has been in love with her boss for months... though it seems he’s too oblivious to notice.

---

1.4k words

Mentions: pining, maybe a little bit of self-deprecation

---

The parking lot is empty and still all around you as you head outside, Duck Tape’s patrons long gone now. It would seem that the tomorrow’s responsibilities beckoned them home early on this sleepy weeknight, early enough to make Clyde decide to shut the bar down a couple hours short of closing. You’re not upset that your shift’s been cut short— quite the opposite, actually.

That’s one more chore off the list, you think, standing on your tiptoes as you haul the bag of trash in your hand up and over the lip of the dumpster. It’s a warm night, warm enough to stick your hair to the back of your neck, and you find yourself craving air conditioning as you turn to go back in the bar. But just as you’re almost there, just as you’re getting ready to go up the steps, you catch a glimpse of something through the window that makes you stop short.

Clyde stands behind the counter, a rag in one hand and a clean glass in the other. He doesn’t notice you staring from outside, too absorbed in his work, but you still feel bad nonetheless. It’s unfair, in your opinion, how he can make even the most mundane action look so damn good. It’s unfair that Clyde is so nice, too, that he’s such a good boss.

It’s unfair that Clyde has your heart, though he doesn’t care to do anything with it.

You hate yourself then, both for staring and for having a crush on your boss. You’re too old for all this, too grown up. You should just recognize that Clyde doesn’t see you that way, accept it, and move on…

But that is so much easier said than done.

Clyde Logan had your heart from the minute you met him, if you’re honest with yourself. How could you not have been struck by him, what with those soft brown eyes and that smile of his? It’s a miracle you made it through your little job interview, in hindsight. You don’t even remember what you said, really, just that Clyde was happy to hire you after that ten-minute conversation. And so, you’ve been waiting tables at the Duck Tape ever since, pining over Clyde in secret as you dole out beers and shots and the occasional mixed drink. He likes you well enough, you think, but he’s never once shown interest in you. You tried back in the day when you first got hired, dropped a couple of hints and made a point of coming to work looking real pretty, all just for him. It made you feel a bit ashamed of yourself, making advances towards your boss, but only because you never thought you’d be the type of person to do such a thing. Breaking the “rules” isn’t something you do often, and the fact that you even wanted to for Clyde was slightly scary.

Now, though, the whole thing is mostly just painful. Clyde never took the bait, you stopped casting your hooks, and nothing’s changed in all the months you’ve worked at the bar. It gets harder and harder all the time as your feelings for Clyde get stronger and stronger. Sometimes you think you should quit before you do something stupid, but you just can’t bring yourself to do that. You really do like your job, and not just because Clyde’s there. Besides, what would you even tell him? “Sorry, Mr. Logan, I can’t work at the bar anymore because I love you too much. When should I pick up my last check?” You can’t just say something like that to a person and expect things to end well…

You realize that you’ve been outside for far too long now, but it seems like Clyde never noticed, greeting you casually when you come through the door. You aren’t sure if that stings more than it makes you feel relieved, but you force yourself not to dwell on it.

“I could have gotten the trash,” Clyde says to you, wiping down one of the last few glasses now. You join him behind the counter, grabbing a rag so you can help him finish up.

“It’s alright,” you say with a shrug, forcing a smile. “I’m a big girl.”

“Still,” Clyde insists, reaching for the last wet glass now, “you really should let me take the trash out when we’re closin’ up. I don’t like you walkin’ around outside by yourself like that at night.”

The sincerity in Clyde’s voice makes your chest ache, makes you feel like bursting into tears right then and there. In that moment, you want to throw your arms around Clyde, want to kiss him and tell him just how you feel. But you shouldn’t, and you can’t, and God, you don’t think you can take much more of this.

Everything you’re feeling must show plainly on your face, because Clyde’s expression shifts to one of concern. “Are you okay?”

You take one look at Clyde’s face, at the way he’s looking at you, and decide that enough is enough. You don’t care if this all blows up in your face, if he fires you— you can’t keep going on like this.

“Clyde,” you say softly. “What do you think of me?”

“Whatddaya’ mean?”

“I mean… How do you feel about me?”

“I think you’re great,” Clyde answers, not even hesitating. “You’ve been a real big help around the bar, and all the customers certainly like ya’ a lot.”

“Is that it, though?” you press. You’re getting worked up now, there’s a lump in your throat. “Is that all you think of me? That I’m a good waitress?”

Clyde looks really concerned now, face all pinched up. He must be able to tell that you’re about to cry, that you’re getting upset. “Where is all this coming from? What’s the matter?”

You shake your head then, embarrassed that you even let yourself have this little outburst. “I… Nothing. Never mind, forget I said anything. I’ll see you tomorrow night, Clyde.”

You make a beeline for the back room, juts wanting to get your purse and go at this point. Clyde’s not having it though, he won’t let you go so easily.

“Now wait just a minute,” he declares, catching your wrist. “I’m not lettin’ you leave my bar upset. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

Still, even after all Clyde’s insisting, you hesitate to tell the truth. Finally, though, something in your snaps.

“I love you, Clyde, but I know that you don’t love me,” you confess. “That’s what’s wrong.”

Clyde looks like he’s been slapped, wide-eyed and slack jawed as looks at you. His hand falls away from your arm, hanging limply at his side as he stumbles and stammers.

“You— You love me?” he asks dumbly, speaking as if he just can’t believe it. You huff and puff at that, completely exasperated now.

“Yes, Clyde,” you affirm. “I’ve loved you since you hired me. How did you not notice?”

Clyde is all flustered now, hands fidgeting. “Were you— Did you flirt with me?”

Your exasperation festers, though you can’t bring yourself to be truly annoyed. “When I first started workin’ here, yes. I would spend hours pickin’ out my clothes before I came to work just prayin’ you’d notice and think I was pretty. I tried to hint around that I wanted you to take me to the fair when it was in town, but you never caught on. I just figured you didn’t—”

You don’t get to finish that thought, though, your mouth occupied with far more important matters as Clyde sweeps you up in his arms for a kiss. It feels surreal, like you’re dreaming, but you realize after several seconds that all of this is, to your delight, very much real.

“I did like you,” Clyde breathes, pulling away from your lips just enough so he can speak. “I just— I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, bein’ your boss and all. I did notice you dressin’ up, I promise. And I’m so sorry I was too stupid to notice that you wanted me to take you out to the fair. Let me make it up to you. I’ll take you out, we can go somewhere nice. I’ll—”

And then it’s your turn to cut Clyde off with a kiss, hauling him down the collar of his shirt so you can lick into his mouth. Clyde kisses you back just as fiercely, just as hungrily, and then you’re pulling away so you can make your intentions clear.

“I don’t want you to make it up to me,” you pant, flustered. “I want you to love me the way I love you, always.”

“I can do that,” Clyde affirms, and then he’s coming right back down for more.

#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan imagine #clyde logan fanfiction #my writing

95 notes · View notes

rayofdawnworld · 3 years

Text

A Good Girl

So, for context: Earlier this year our darling @saiyanprincessswanie got sick and needed surgery. I being a worried friend, reached out wished her luck promised her a get well fic, and then prayed for her. All good and dandy. But not. See, the incredible idiot that I am, NEVER POSTED THE FIC!!! I PUT THE STORY IN MY POSTED FILE BUT I DIDN'T GIVE IT TO HER!!! I. Am. A. Moran... But, this has allowed me to re-read my work and I can make it better. So, I'm posting part one now and I'll post part two next Monday. Our beloved @saiyanprincessswanie deserves more than just a one-shot at this point. I'm so sorry my Dear. I so hope you like it.

For those interested, Tag list is open for this fic.

Moodboard by me. :)

Grey!Steve/Sassy!OC

A Good Girl

Part One- Warnings: None

She was a good girl. Anyone with half a brain cell could see that. Steve looked at the young man once again stunned. Not only was the young woman beautiful, she looked soft and sweet,he could hardly believe that she looked so young. If asked, Steve would have sworn the beautiful woman was a young girl of eighteen and not a woman of twenty-seven, but she did have an inner lining of steel running through her, she had a fire, judging by the way she was ranting with the younger man. Steve found himself drawn to her, captivated in a way that no one ever managed to captivate him. Not even peggy. A man can get up to some very bad things for just a chance at getting a Girl like her. He thought to himself with a half formed idea backing at the back of his head.

In hindsight, he was glad that he came with the idiot. They had met in one of his Support Group Meetings. The young man was in bed in the “act” when his girlfriend was dusted. But the relationship had been rocky, and he had been thinking about an old girlfriend of his, more and more. From what he gathered the girl had been left alone. An orphan, she had gotten a scholarship in Forensic accounting where they had met. They had dated throughout their college years but had sadly drifted apart when they hit the workforce despite having both been accepted in a prestigious firm. The stress had simply been too much. That's when things had ended.

One of the many consequences of the snap had been unemployment. Companies had gone bankrupt either because they had lost all or most of their workforce or because the owners and shareholders had evaporated and there was no one to sign the paychecks and pay the bills. The snap had caused more problems than solved them, at least on earth. Such, in point, was the young girl's case. Steve hadn't understood why she had quit her job at the firm and had gone to a much smaller firm with a significant downgrade in income, but now he understood. She was working as a waitress in a rundown diner. The smaller firm had lost everyone. She had been the only one left.

Steve had only just managed to dodge a flying cup aimed for the young man but alas, she didn’t have a very good aim. This argument had been going on for the better part of forty minutes. She knew she was going to get fired, so she may have decided to go all out.

The idea had been to go with the dolt, as moral support, go talk to the girl. He had sat in a booth, while the younger man had sat in another. Her face had soured from the sweet smile she had the moment she had recognized her ex-boyfriend. She had been polite, asked him what he had wanted, he said he wanted coffee and a chance to talk. She had agreed and went to get his order. Her boss had given her ten minutes that would be reduced from her lunch hour. He listened in thanks to his superior hearing. It had been a simple conversation at first. The air stiled when, the Moran had said that he missed her. Things became frosty when he informed her that the other woman had been dusted. It took a turn for the worst when he said that he wanted her back. At first, she just laughed, then… Then the argument started. That's when Steve got the truth. He had always suspected that there was something off about the sap story the other asshole had shared with the group. Now he knew. My poor sweet girl. Don’t worry I'll take care of you.

Sadie was done. Just done. All her life she had been a good girl. She always did what the nuns told her to do. She never broke the rules, worked hard, was kind to all even when she was bullied. She did her damn best, to tell the truth, she saved herself waiting for “the one”, she had been faithful, loyal. She was humble, modest. And for what? To be called boring and humiliated by being compared with another woman. She had felt so small when Kevin had said that, what’s her name was sexier and better in bed. She had rebuffed that she had been a virgin when they had met. Not to mention that he never wanted to try anything new, telling her that she shouldn’t try to be someone she wasn’t, whatever THAT meant. Kevin then had the gall of saying it was all her fault he slept with the other woman. She should have done more, tried better. Learned more. When she asked him acidly, if the point of exploring one's sexuality was to do it as a couple, the bastard had accused her of making a scene. She had quit her job and left the apartment they shared that very day. He had called her accusing her of being childish and overreacting, she threw her phone away, just in case he could track the serial number. Sadie wondered how long it would take the firm and his new flame to find out that eighty percent of his so-called excellent work was done by her, at home. In some misguided and deluded idea of good to him.

The world had changed a year after that. She was still hurt. But not in the way most thought. She was hurt and angry at herself. For not saying what she wanted. For not realizing what a jackass Kevin was. But above all, she wished she could have punched him. And now here he was… Telling her how sorry he was, what a mistake he had made, and how much he missed her and how much he wanted her back. Everything went red after that, she didn’t know what she said but she did remember throwing something at him. She nearly hit the client sitting in the booth behind them. She was going to get fired for that. She just knew it. She didn’t care. It was a lousy job anyway. She did on the other hand get to do something she had dreamed of ever since they had broken up, no ever since she had caught him cheating and left him. It wasn’t a punch, no. But it had been a slap. And a very big mighty slap.

Later that evening, Frank had been gracious enough to “let” her finish her shift, with no job and slim prospects, she was still smiling. Her smile dropped when she saw Captain America himself waiting outside for her with an apologetic face. Now that she thought back on it. Kevin had walked in with him. Before she could say anything the tall Adonis took a step forward and smiled minutely.

“I’m sorry about today. I didn’t know the whole story. If I had I would have stopped him from coming here.” Steve Grant Rogers was talking to her. Apologizing to her. Sadie smiled stunned but sadly.

“It’s alright. Kevin has always had this way about him. It takes a bit for you to see past his bulshit.” Steve chuckled and shook his head. We’ll have to do something about this language though. “I’m not surprised you fell for it. You're a good man, Captain.”

Hearing that did things to him. She was perfect in every way. Sweet, pure, good-natured. She deserved better than Kevin. She deserved someone who would keep her safe from the ugliness that this word had become. She deserved to be cherished. Taken care of. And HE wanted to be the one to do all those things for her. But he also realized that he would have to pace himself.

“Well, to make it up to you how about I offer you a job? I was going to give it to Kevin, but I think there's a story he’s not telling us about him being fired from the firm you were both working at, so I feel my safest bet is offering it to you.” Steve said shifting his weight from foot to foot. Sadie smiled at that.

“Yea, someone at the firm must have found out that he was a slacker. I did most of his work for him remotely from home at night. And with no hot, exciting girlfriend in HR to cover up for him…” was all she had to say. “What kind of job are you talking about?”

“Simple accounting. Nothing out of the ordinary. Howard Stark stopped the government from declaring me dead so the hundred dollars I invested in his company have grown in stock value ever since. He also apparently bought a bunch of Real Estate and a lot of other stuff, so now I don't know what I have or what I owe to the IRS. I need someone to look at my books… that have been untouched since nineteen ninety-one.” Steve explained, a bit overwhelmed. Sadie wished she could have told him that she needed to think about it. But she didn’t. Without any job prospects, she wasn’t in a place to decline Steve's offer. The fact that she would be working for America's Golden Boy and getting one over Kevin was just a bonus. Thanking him he gave her the compound address and they parted ways.

He followed her from a safe distance. He wanted to make sure she got home alright. At least that's what he told himself as he melted into the darkness.

#greysteve #fan fiction #greysteve/femoc #fem!OC #mcu fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

jawlost · 3 years

Text

@gerichteter : plotted.

𝙿𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚘. Scratches had been marked on the four walls that made up his consciousness, so much so that he'd run out of space. Or, perhaps it was more the truth to say that he had run out of hope. What else did Porco have if he didn’t have hope? Nothing. Nothing alongside the bucket of guilt that he clutched to his chest, forced himself to walk around with, forcing himself to bear its weight. If only he’d have been wiser. Had he of had a little bit of hindsight under his belt, perhaps Bertholdt wouldn’t have been sentenced to what Porco assumed was certain death.

Certain death for someone as fragile as Bertholdt. For someone whose hands were still soft, not yet met with the callouses that covered Porco’s own. Bertholdt was clean and pure, forced to the backline by no one else but Porco himself. Protecting the kid who’d wound up in the wrong crowd. Falling for the kid he’d shipped off to death. It was the 27th month when Porco had stopped counting, though he knew by now it had been just shy of three years since they left.

So when the news broke of the infiltrators coming home, Porco thought he must have been dreaming. Not because it didn’t seem real, but because he’d had countless dreams just like it. No amount of cold water or self-provided slaps to the face were waking him up. It must have been real. Were they all coming back? Was Bertholdt coming home?

He’d spent that morning pacing, not eating, stomach churning and the entire pack of cigarettes he’d bought that night completely burned through. The empty cardboard box tumbled to the garbage as the lighter was snapped back into his pocket, dragging a breath so heavy, it felt as though half the damn stick had burnt away. The ash was flicked off the end, the whisky he’d poured himself for breakfast was sipped and Porco did his best to gather his thoughts.

Though he quickly learned that no amount of thought-gathering would have ever prepared him for the man that walked back through those doors into his life.

Porco wasn’t exactly sure what sort of reunion he was expecting ( or what one he wanted ) , but he was sure it wasn’t this. Bertholdt was… different. Yeah. Different.

His perfect skin had been marred with ink, he’d filled out in all the places he remembers soft flesh had been before, his hair was longer and shaggier too, and Porco could swear that he’d gotten taller. His breath was caught in his throat as he came more into view, lump swallowed as he continued to take in the man as he crossed the foyer. He was sure he was blinking like an idiot. His neck was the most eye-catching of the newest additions to cover Bertholdt. Some monster of a beast spewing up his throat and down his chest to god-knows how far down. It made Porco shudder. Though it made him curious, too. What else was new beneath the white t-shirt and gruff attitude?

Words seemed to escape him, though the faint outline of a square in the pocket of Bertholdt’s jacket automatically made him pipe up, breaking through the ever lasting silence that seemed to have befallen his vocal chords.

“ What did I tell you about smokin? ”

#gerichteter #in character.#v : don't ask. don't tell.#// strap in ur butt lani #//i also forgot to add an icon just ignore me

1 note · View note

imperialstark · 4 years

Text

i’ll never make it alone

a/n: part 2 to oh! darling, although it’s not necessary to read that fic in order to read this one. already posted on ao3, just felt like posting it here too bc i crave validation

summary: Tony and Steve bond over a sleepless night.

rating: T, just for a few swears and mental health

warning(s): mainly hints of characters exhibiting PTSD and panic attacks, but hopefully nothing too triggering

The tower was too quiet. Steve never thought he’d miss the roar of train cars passing through Brooklyn or hearing the daily hustle and bustle of the city. New York had been the city that never slept, even in Steve’s day.

Sleeping through the war had been easier than sleeping in the tower, he decided, staring up at the stark white ceiling from the comfort of his bed. Trains to tanks. Hustle and bustle to screams and moans. The war had taught him to fear the quiet moments. There had been no respites or breaks for them, and if things were going too well, it was only going to go to shit later. It had been a fact of life then, and Steve believed in it now.

Goosebumps sprouted like weeds on his arms as the air conditioning kicked on. He tried to ignore it, he really did, but ever since coming out of the ice, he had a hard time staying warm. Steve wasn’t anemic by any means, and yet, even the slightest breeze could set him off.

“Hey, JARVIS?” he asked, the words sounding clumsy in his mouth.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?” came a smooth, distinctly British voice, which, according to Tony, was not in the ceiling.

“Could you turn the air off in my room? Please?”

The AI sounded puzzled. “Are you sure, sir? It’s quite warm out.”

“Please,” Steve repeated. His stomach twisted into a knot. What if JARVIS said no? How would he be able to explain anything to a being who had never known real life and the anguish that came with it?

“...As you wish, sir.”

The air went off with one swift whoosh.

Steve inhaled and closed his eyes. A super-soldier could survive off of less sleep than the average human, but that didn’t mean he liked being sleep-deprived. But the air had already worked its magic. When Steve closed his eyes, all he saw was black water glinting like glass in the sun; An icy abyss calling his name. Cold crept into his lungs, frost coated his skin, and there was that familiar burn only ice could give you, engulfing his blood—

His eyes shot open. The beat of his heart echoed in his ears, sounding too close and too loud. Sleep was going to be a long way off. Throwing his blankets back, Steve sat up and sighed.

“Just one night,” he said to no one in particular. “I just want one night.”

“If you’d like, Captain,” JARVIS said, startling Steve. He didn’t know that the AI could speak unprompted. “Sir is currently in the communal kitchen if you want company.”

“Sir?” His brows furrowed. “Stark?” His panic momentarily forgotten, Steve slid out of bed completely, not really sure where he was going. A session in the gym with one of Stark’s super-soldier grade punching bags sounded swell, but if Stark was in the kitchen, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to seek him out and talk about...something.

He and the tower’s resident genius were on their way to becoming friends. Maybe. Possibly. They were close to becoming whatever came before friends. Most of Steve’s friends hadn’t insulted him and offered him a place to sleep free of charge in the same breath. But Tony Stark was a genius; maybe being eccentric was a requirement.

“What’s he doing up at—“Steve glanced at the clock, “two in the morning?”

“Sir believes that sleep, and I quote, is ‘for the weak.’”

Steve snorted, his mouth turning into an unwitting smile. Eccentric, indeed.

Mind made up, Steve made his way to the kitchen, a blanket wrapped securely around his shoulders. The air was still going full blast outside of his room. Steve gritted his teeth and pulled the blanket tighter around him. “I’m never running out of shields,” he thought.

The elevator ride to the communal kitchen was over all too quickly, and Steve was greeted to the sight of Tony fluttering from counter to counter. Oddly enough, Tony didn’t look out of place in the kitchen, despite having heard many, many horror stories of his past attempts at cooking.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve said in greeting, hovering on the edge of the threshold.

Tony paused mid-flurry and gave him the smallest of smiles. There was something fragile about it that had the edge of broken glass.

“Hey, Steve,” Tony said, nodding at him. “Nice blanket.”

The blanket had been a gag gift, courtesy of Natasha, of course, of Steve in his full USO regalia.

“I had it custom made,” she had said with a smirk, which for Natasha, might as well have been her beaming with pride.

“Thanks,” Steve said, and the conversation died just as soon as it had begun.

Tony started to fidget in place, the silence growing unbearable. Despite living together for three months now, awkwardness still clouded their interactions outside of the battlefield.

“Um,” Steve began. “What are you doing up?”

A shadow passed over Tony’s face, but as quickly as it had appeared, Tony broke out into a grin, and it was gone. “Innovation doesn’t have a curfew, Rogers. Don’t tell me a sketch has never kept you up?”

Steve blinked. “You know that I draw?”

“Of course I do,” Tony said, resuming his motions around the kitchen. “You leave your sketchbooks all over the tower.”

His cheeks burned. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”

“Please, you? Inconvenience me? You’re talking to the king of inconveniences. Besides,” Tony shrugged as he measured out a few tablespoons of what looked like fresh ground coffee. “You’re good.”

“Thanks,” he said. He was getting all kinds of compliments tonight. “I was in art school before…”

“Everything,” Tony finished.

“Everything,” Steve agreed.

A silence fell over them again. Tony dumped the coffee grounds into a silver Moka pot and set it on the stove.

“You know why I’m up,” Tony said, leaning back against the counter. “But what about you? What’s keeping you awake?”

Steve weighed his options. He could tell Tony the truth, tell him that his brain was fucked, tell him how he couldn’t stand the cold without picturing himself plunging to his death.

Or, he could lie.

“It’s too quiet,” he blurted out. “The tower,” he gestured around them. “It’s...quiet.” That was close enough to the truth, at least.

Tony, thankfully, didn’t laugh at him. “I thought soundproofing the walls would be a good idea. Don’t know too many people who enjoy city life for the noise.”

“I grew up by the tracks,” Steve found himself saying. “It wasn’t the best neighborhood, but it was one of the only places that would rent out to the Irish.”

That was one of the strangest parts of the future. In Steve’s time, the Irish, along with the Italians and the Jewish had been second-class citizens. A step of above people of color, in the eyes of bigots, but only just. All of them had been an afterthought in the collective consciousness of WASP America.

“I knew that,” Tony said, his voice going low. The Moka pot bubbled away on the stovetop, the rich smell of coffee, hitting Steve’s nose.

“You seem to know an awful lot about me,” Steve said.

“Your buddy, Howard, thought tales about his old war pals were appropriate bedtime stories for a child.”

Steve frowned. A bitter note had seeped into their conversation that always occurred whenever Howard was brought up in Tony’s presence. Steve may have known the man during the war, but that didn’t mean he was the same man who Tony had called “Father”. During the war, Howard had always been loud. Flashy. The most conspicuous person in the room.

“That man wouldn’t know the meaning of subtlety if it whacked him over the head with a frying pan,” he remembered Peggy saying, her crimson lips pursed in distaste as Howard chatted up an SSR secretary.

“Why a frying pan?” Steve had mused.

“They’re sturdy, for one,” she had said, matter-of-factly. “And quite hard to miss.”

Steve remembered the secretary had slapped Howard upside his head after one too many risqué remarks. In hindsight, Peggy was right, not that Steve ever doubted her. A frying pan would have been just as, if not more, sufficient.

That man had apparently settled down and raised a child who was staring at him with something dark and dangerous pooling in his eyes. Steve would have to tread carefully.

“As smart as he was, he didn’t have much sense, did he?” he said with all the caution of someone approaching a stray animal.

Tony’s posture lost some of its rigidity. “No. He didn’t.”

Silence again. If someone asked him, he couldn’t tell them why, but at that moment, Steve wanted to hear what Tony had to say. About anything. About everything.

“Stop lurking in the shadows like a creep,” Tony said. “Unless you’re trying to do a Fury impersonation, then by all means continue. You’re missing the eyepatch, though.”

Steve huffed, but even he couldn’t hide his amusement. The thought of Fury sitting in the dark with a fuzzy blanket draped over him instead of his usual leather duster made for a decidedly less intimidating picture. And if Tony was joking around, then the danger of mentioning Howard had passed. Steve entered the kitchen completely and took a seat at the island right across from where Tony stood.

“You’re drinking coffee at two in the morning?” he said, arching a brow as Tony took the now whistling Moka pot off the burner.

“Not coffee,” Tony corrected. “Marocchino,” he said, placing a can of cocoa powder onto the counter.

“Still has caffeine,” Steve said, mainly because Tony was so easy to rile up.

“‘Still has caffeine’,” Tony mocked, his voice going up a pitch. “That’s what you sound like. Don’t you chastise me, Rogers.”

Steve chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “My apologies,” he said. “Must be an important project.”

“All of my projects are important,” Tony said. He pulled a glass out from under the island, paused as if he were pondering something, then pulled out a second glass.

Steve drank in every sure movement of Tony’s as he dusted both glasses in cocoa powder, and carefully poured the steaming espresso and milk into each cup. He sprinkled more cocoa over the top of each glass with a flourish before pushing one towards Steve.

“Drink up, Cap.”

Steve gingerly grabbed the cup and blew at the steam.

Tony held his glass in front of him. “Toast?”

“What are we toasting?”

“To sleepless nights,” Tony said, sounding perhaps more serious than Steve had ever heard him. “And the things that keep us up.”

As Tony looked at him with those dark eyes of his, his glass aloft, he realized this wasn’t Tony Stark, CEO. Tony Stark, son of a legend. Not even Tony Stark, Avenger. This was Tony Stark without a mask.

“To sleepless nights,” Steve echoed. Their glasses met with the lightest of clinks. Steve’s fingers brushed against Tony’s as he pulled his drink away. It was nothing, really. Barely a glance. And yet a light jolt zipped through his fingertips and left him feeling unsettled.

If Tony had also been shocked, he made no mention of it, instead downing his espresso with gusto. Steve watched the bob of Tony’s throat, feeling hot beneath the collar. The coffee was already getting to him, and he hadn’t even taken a sip yet.

Steve took his espresso like a shot. The coffee surged through him, driving away the cold that had settled into his bones. The cocoa was sweet and creamy on his tongue. Of course, Tony wouldn’t waste money on the cheap imitation stuff made with powdered milk.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” Tony asked, his eyes twinkling.

Steve burst out laughing, maybe the first genuine laugh he’d managed since coming out of the ice. At that moment, ice and the cold were the furthest things from his mind.

“Even better,” he said, perhaps too earnestly, but that was between him and God. “I wouldn’t mind a refill.”

Tony’s answering smile was blinding. His eyes were all crinkled in the corners, the way they did whenever Tony was truly happy. Not that Steve spent a lot of time memorizing Tony’s smiles.

The tension from earlier had (hopefully) disappeared for good.

“He should always smile like that,” Steve thought. Tony’s smile could drive a blizzard away.

They sat there for the rest of the night until the sun crept over the horizon, flooding the kitchen with light and something warm and golden had curled in Steve’s chest.

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel #mcu #stony fic #stony fanfic #my fic #my writing #imperialstark fic #imperialstark writing

25 notes · View notes

dragonnan · 4 years

Note

16, 17 and 19 for the most recent ask thingy, should you feel the mood sway you. 😁

The mood will ALWAYS sway me lol!

16. Describe your WIP that currently has the highest word count.

Simon and Simon and Psych (Psych/Simon & Simon) Word count: 24,323

So this one, in spite of not being updated in YEARS, is a story I’m still absolutely on fire to resume because I’m just thrilled af about the concept. It’s a crossover between 2 series I love - Psych and Simon & Simon (an 80s Private Detective series). What excites me most about it was the reimagining of Simon & Simon for the modern era while still retaining all of the things that made the characters what they were.

A little back story on Simon & Simon as I feel more people will be less familiar with that series of the two. The series is about 2 brothers who decided to open a detective agency together after the younger brother, AJ (Andrew Jackson), left the larger detective agency where he had been working for several years.

AJ is blond, surfed a great deal as a younger man, attended law school, and was considered the “golden child” growing up somewhat sheltered and cherished and maybe a tad innocent of the world. When his brother went to Viet Nam, AJ took part in the peace protests - primarily because he was terrified for his brother and wanted to do anything he could to make the fighting stop. AJ tends to be the more mature of the brothers - nearly always wearing a suit and usually takes lead in dealing with clients (assuming Rick doesn’t interrupt him).

Rick, the older brother, left home after they father died and bounced around from various interests, including being a biker for a time, before going to Viet Nam. He would come back from the war with a boatload of PTSD and a very fierce drive to protect his younger brother (probably far more so than he’d even felt prior to Viet Nam but to be clear - Rick is VERY protective of AJ). All of that, however, might take the casual observer by surprise as Rick is incredibly irresponsible (on the surface) and nearly always in a good mood or quick with a joke. Just don’t threaten baby bro other their mother. Really, just do not.

So that’s a bit of backstory so I can mention my changes for the modern era. Instead of Viet Nam, Rick is now a veteran of Desert Storm. They now both carry cell phones instead of relying on pay phones or other land lines. They have a website. I’ve updated their cars. Before, AJ drove a red Camaro T Top so I changed that to a 2008 Chevy Corvette. Rick, in the series, drove a 1979 Dodge Power Wagon so that one... did not change lol! I seriously cannot picture Rick in any other vehicle.

So after ALL OF THAT there’s actually a story in progress...

The plot thus far is that the Simon brothers are in Santa Barbara because AJ is running in the annual Half Marathon (an actual one cause I do like to blend some real events with my fiction lol). While in town, Rick goes to run an errand - picking up an item his buddy Carlos had shipped but wasn’t able to pick up himself because Carlos is... sketchy (an actual character from the series that we hear about anecdotally from Rick). Meanwhile, Juliet and Lassiter are at the shipyards as well, having set up a sting on suspicion of drug activity. So, of course, when Rick goes to collect this item for Carlos, he ends up being stopped by the cops who confiscate the item after finding it filled with drugs and they arrest Rick. THIS, then, is how the crossover comes into play as Shawn, of course, horns in on the investigation and immediately suspects that Rick is being setup so he volunteers to help out the Simons. Various things happen which ultimately leads Shawn, Gus, and AJ back to the shipyards and a suspicious warehouse (aren’t ALL warehouses suspicious?) where suspicious men are rapidly emptying it of product. The 3 men get caught and are bundled off in the back of a suspicious vehicle to a suspicious location. At about this time Rick is let out on bail (thanks moooom....) and in a panic as he hasn’t heard from his brother. When he realizes AJ must be in trouble, he ends up tentatively joining up with Juliet and Lassiter who are trying to find Shawn. Nobody is entirely thrilled with being teamed up in either group...

And this is roughly where things stand after the last update!

So after I’ve subjected you to all of the above, how about a snippet from chapter 1?

___

Shawn Spencer spun slowly in his father's chair – maintaining just enough speed to make a full revolution before kicking himself into another circuit. Typically he enjoyed his time at the station, provided he wasn't behind bars or being subjected to an interrogation. Okay, scratch that. He did enjoy an interrogation provided his hot pants girlfriend with a personal pair of handcuffs was the one dressing him down. He leered. He didn't even have to try to make that sound dirty.

Right. Back on the subject at hand. Naughty cop Jules would, sadly, have to wait until they could have some private time.

If they could have some private time. Of course, the way things were going lately...

And that brought him back full circle to his original beef.

Dad was being cagey. Like, Nick Cagey complete with diminished mane and sneaky covertness. Sure, he pretended he wasn't being covert but his dad sucked almost as bad as Lassie when he tried to fake acting casual. He was way too sour in the shorts to pull off that level of none chalice.

Like now, the old man was going for coffee. Like anybody with half a badge couldn't see right through that act. Shawn pulled together a mild sneer as his dad returned to his desk.

“Really? You put sugar in that too?”

His dad didn't look at him as he set his coffee on the desk. “Stop glaring at me. And get the hell out of my chair!”

Shawn didn't budge. “I am on to you.” He enunciated with immaculate exaggeration.

“The only thing you're on is my chair. And too many Pop Rocks; I thought Gus had cut you back to one pack a day.”

“I'm allowed two packs on the weekend.”

“It's Wednesday, kiddo. Maybe it's time you invested in a calendar.”

“Well maybe it's time you invested in hair plugs!” Shawn paused as his father crossed his arms. The pointing hand dropping back to his lap. “Too Terence Stamp? Sorry, I was caught up in the moment.”

“What do you want, Shawn?” Giving up on patience, Henry opted for shoving his son until he toppled out of the chair. Ignoring the yelp when Shawn flopped to the tile, he scooted closer to the desk so he could pull up the report he'd been working on. Fingers just coming to rest on his keyboard, he scowled at the active game of Pitfall taking up his screen. He tapped a button but rather than taking him back to the SBPD mainframe, it caused the character to jump into the green shapes he assumed were meant to be alligators. Behind him, Shawn gasped.

“You just killed my last guy!”

“Be grateful that's all I've killed.” Slapping a few more keys he finally found the right combination to get back to his report.

Still sitting on the floor, Shawn drew up his knees up and propped his chin on both fists. Not even managing to type a single word, Henry sighed and swiveled towards his moping son.

“What, Shawn?”

Now that he had the desired attention, Shawn pushed his lower lip out the tiniest bit. “Jules is busy and she said I can't help with the stakeout cause it's “super stupid important, Shawn” and Gus won't let me borrow the blueberry so I can follow her cause deep down inside I know she wants me to help cause, please, like I don't always make a stakeout better – I mean, who else is going to remember to bring an extra container of cheese dip for the nachos because one cup is just never enough and believe you me you do not want to short cheese a guy packing tear gas...”

Henry held up a hand to cut off the ramble that could easily go on another five minutes. With his other hand he rubbed at his aching eyes. Of course Shawn would find out about the sting. However, Chief Vick had been adamant about keeping him out of it. Henry had actually lobbied for including his son on the details – the memory of the last big operation that had temporarily cost him his job was not an easily healing wound. Rather than even attempt reconstructing the word barrage of bitching, Henry latched on to the least pointless detail.

“Where is Gus anyhow? I thought you two left an hour ago for dinner.”

Shawn shrugged. “I don't know for certain... I mean, by now he could be anywhere. He's always expressed an interest in touring with Alicia Keys...”

“Shawn.”

“We went to Taco Louie's and he insisted on the deep fried beef and bean mini burrito...”

Henry raised his hand again. Enough said.

“Well whatever you were thinking, I'm still not talking the Chief out of her decision. You're bored? How about you work on the burglary case I gave you.”

“Daaaad... the Redbox robberies?” Groaning, Shawn flopped on his back and sprawled dramatically. Officers passing back and forth shot glances at the display and Henry rubbed his face in embarrassment.

“Dammit, Shawn, get off the floor! You look like an idiot!”

Shawn sat up but didn't stand. Nor was he ready to let go of his latest complaint.

“Come on! Dad, Redbox? That is so... not sexy!”

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

This one is an Iron Man character exploration regarding Tony’s relationship with Obie and that, with hindsight, he realizes Obie had been grooming him. It will never cross that crucial line but the potential leaves Tony reeling. This will be in the same universe as another short fic titled “Simple Math”. Here’s the bit of writing I’d put together so far:

_____

He'd thought it was bonding; at the time. His dad had never been one for just hanging out; shooting the shit; telling tales out of school. No, Pops, when he bothered to interact, led with questions. “You keeping your grades up?” “You still seeing that floozy?” “When are you going to pull your head out of your ass and grow the hell up?” “You do realize it's my name you're disgracing every time you go on a bender?”

With Obie it was just, easy. Obie might ask about school but it was always with approval and pride. He would discuss Tony's conquests as though Tony had climbed Kilimanjaro wearing nothing but underwear and a cape.

Obie was there when his father wasn't. Which meant that Obie was always there. The first time he got astoundingly drunk on his father's scotch, Obie was the one to help him hunch over the toilet and vomit expensive, aged booze into the toilet. Obie was also the one to replace the depleted bottle to keep Howard in the dark. For a fourteen year old kid still trying to gain his dad's favor, that had meant everything.

He saw his first porn with Obie; sex education ala Traci Lords, three months shy of his fifteenth birthday. That was the same time he was introduced to weed. Obie had cautioned him to use it sparingly; didn't want to fry that genius brain, he'd say, and ruffle his hair. The porn had made him uncomfortable. Obie had turned it off and told him they could watch whatever Tony wanted. They'd ended up changing the station to Knight Rider; smoking and munching Cheetos and laughing over their orange fingers.

It was Obie who was there, arm around his shoulders, after his parents died. He desperately didn't want to sob in front of the man. Things were so complicated with his dad that all he felt was blinding guilt... as though some part of him had caused this. But Obie had filled him with bourbon until the emotions got soft around the edges and he'd sat beside the older man, head tipping gradually to the right until he was held up by Obie's bicep. Obie had just slung and arm around him and let Tony pass out while he rubbed a broad hand up and down his arm.

It was strange, now, looking back with adult perspective. A perspective that included Afghanistan and his intended execution and Obie's arm around his shoulders while he talked about legacy and responsibility while Tony's lungs slowly seized. He'd taken the time to sit there – arm around Tony's shoulders while one broad hand traveled up and down Tony's bicep – just like when he was a kid and Obie was the whole world.

He'd tried to remember if it had felt so tainted... at the time. Or if he'd always believed it was love.

Obie had never quite crossed that line. Though hindsight offered a peek into that possibility with enough clarity Tony had fought with his cramping gut for nearly thirty minutes. He'd staved off vomiting though he was fairly certain his dignity had still been in tatters what with Bruce wandering in on his misery.

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

Gosh... It’s funny that when asked the question the first thing that I ponder is “what head canons?? what are characters??? Do I even watch tv???” So I needed to ponder a bit.

As far as it goes my favorite head canons are not typically ones that I myself have come up with. And going with that maybe the best one I know is for the series, and character, Sherlock.

I’m am 100% all in on Sherlock being on the autism spectrum. Yes, I know this is attributed to MANY characters but consider the fact that those reasons have a ton of validity. Sherlock has very strong indications of being on the spectrum and having read quite a number of essays on the subject, many of which were written by people who are also on the spectrum, I’m completely convinced. It’s to the point I don’t even like calling it a “head canon” as that implies it’s only a fan concept and therefore has less likelihood. It just feels so deliberate with that character.

So going off from that I would say, in a more general sense, my favorite head canons are they type where we can discover neurologically atypical traits in characters - especially heroes. Too long anyone neurologically divergent is portrayed either as a victim or, FAR FAR worse, as the “crazed villain” and frankly that is disgusting. So it is beyond refreshing to suddenly have this amazing, brilliant, layered person who also displays autistic traits. In going back over characters that I’ve loved most there are many who have traits of this sort that, only in hindsight, do I recognize. Just a few off the top of my head; Malcolm Bright, Shawn Spencer (100% ADHD), Rapunzel, Rick Simon (remember him? lol), Adrien Monk (his OCD was very deliberate), as well as characters who’ve developed trauma after horrific events such as, well, most MCU characters but particularly Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. Malcolm Bright also very much was built from trauma but I also am convinced there are neurologically atypical traits at play.

Thank you so much for the great ask!!

#disappearinginq

5 notes · View notes

kinktae · 4 years

Note

How dare you bitchin!jungkook ?! HOW DARE YOU ?!

very NOT spoiler free bitchin’ 8 asks under the cut

Y/N SUPPORT GROUP

deliciouslydisturbed365 said: I just read chapter 8 and holy fuck I’m nauseous. Poor Y/N 😭

queen-emon said: What the literal FUCK man, I just read Bitchin 08 and like im so broken. I never ever consider Y/n and I to be the same person but this time I felt like we were the same person both getting our hearts crushed by the man we loved so dearly. I AM NOT OKAY WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME! THIS IS SO NOT GROOVY :(

Anonymous said: Me🤝y/n Repressing our emotions

madjammil said: I am legit crying. Poor y/n! I cannot believe Jungkook slept with Kiri! My heart is broken. I thought these two were finally getting together and he goes and does this dumb shit! Smh. Aside from that, your writing was amazing as always! I love this series so much!

YARA BULLY JK PETITIONERS

Anonymous said: omg i can’t believe jungkook is rly going to get his dickie chopped off 😍😍😍 deserve! can’t wait until yara finds out

Anonymous said: Ignore jk, y/n!!! Gosh she deserve so much better than a fboi who only cares about how he feels physically!! Ahole to the max and I need her to slap him! Yara can join along the slapping game!! But srsly he needs to learn his words alone can’t mend this and I hope y/n doesn’t give in so easily cuz he deserves cold shoulders from her for a very long time and don’t just rely on charms to get his way. Ik he was trouble from the start 😔 y/n dear don’t worry you deserve better

casualxexistence said: So 👉👈 um like is there like ANy chance that we get to see our baby yara’s reaction to this 🥺🥺🥺👼 bc um well I would kinda love to see her hand both jk and kiri there asses bc they aren’t gonna hAVE ANY AFTER SHE FINISHES WITH THEM RIP

Anonymous said: dude, what if y/n hooks up with tae and starts beef between jk and him while yara bitch slaps kiri….. dude bitchin’ has such good drama theories wtf literally anything is possible at this point

Anonymous said: if yara doesn’t punch kook can I punch him? Not as the oc I meant like me BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK

forvever-ddaeng said: I keep rereading this last part like it’s somehow gonna change or it won’t make me sad the more I read it but it’s having the opposite effect and now I want Yara to beat Jungkook’s ass smh

Anonymous said: WTFFFFFFF YARA GONNA HUNT DOWN AND KICK JUNGKOOK ASS FOR HURTING HER BABY

JUNGKOOK ANTIS:

Anonymous said: what the fuck is wrong with bitchin’!jungkook does he think with his dick i wanna kick his ass

Anonymous said: why jungkook would do something like that if he likes y/n? i would be so mad at him too like… isn’t that kind of cheating? he didn’t say if he was back together with his ex but he slept with her so that must mean something, she probably thinks it means something. he was really stupid

omgtaehyungsmullett said: i know jungkook fucking with me, dammit 😡

Anonymous said: I DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD JUNGKOOK DO THAT WHY

ausjeons said: Jungkook what the fuck!!! I could slap you silly after reading part 8 😪😩

Anonymous said: Team make jk suffer for awhile and then be able to patch things up with the oc 🤝

Anonymous said: I read ch8 last night and this weighed heavily on my mind all day like why is jk such a hoe? Like how could he just sleep with Kiri just like that. I think these children are very confuzzled with their feelings. After he slept with Kiri, did he rush to y/n bc he knew this was the end of their “relationship”? One last passionate banger goodbye 😟 my 💔 broken heart

Anonymous said: I ain’t even sad. I’m full on rage mode. WHO TF GAVE JK THE AUDACITY , THE ABSOLUTE BRAWN TO STICK HIS DICK IN KIRI AND THEN , NOT EVEN A FULL DAY LATER ( cuz yk that would be farrr too gracious ) WITHOUT A WARNING , WITHOUT A FRICKING GOOD MORNING EVEN , GOES TO FUCK OC AND THINKS THAT’S OKAY???? Good to know OC and whatever his relationship was with her was worth less than a nut😒

Anonymous said: i’m actually sad… like wow. i really expected him to go back, i really did. but even though i knew it’d happen, it still hurt, y’know? i think that made it worse; knowing that he’d go back to her in the end… shit’s fucked up, really. great job writing it. i could literally feel the emotion from this one.

Anonymous said: Bitchin ch 8…..oh wow the smut was so nice and fluffy but wtf JJK messed up big time. Honestly I don’t think he deserves oc after this. She deserves someone who isn’t so unsure of his feelings that it takes getting back together with and sleeping with someone else to realise it. If he really liked her, he wouldn’t have slept with Kiri.

Anonymous said: “ArE YOu MAd?” Srsly what brand of clown juice is Bitchin JJK drinking?

Anonymous said: TAE AND Y/N HOES BRO ENTER THE NEW SHIP FUCK JK

cchristinnaa said: Jk really did yn like a pocket pussy huh

Anonymous said: HOW COULD JUNGKOOK OH MY GOOODDDDDDDDDDD literally men aint SHIT….. the part where y/n said you got what you wanted from me🥺🥺🥺🥺 I FELT THAT ugh i love the angst

Anonymous said: Hope jk dieS from jealousy next ch. And regrets it skdhdhd :( jk. Hope they get their sht 2gether soon or im gon 😷😖😭

diortae said: me: *explaining to bitchin 8 jk why he’s a dick for calling Y/N his “pretty girl” immediately after fucking her raw the morning after he slept with his ex*

jk: well, you know what they say. hindsight is 20/20

me: KINDA SEEMS LIKE REGULAR SIGHT SHOULD HAVE CAUGHT THAT ONE

Anonymous said: JUNGKOOK IS ABOUT TO MEET THESE FISTS UP CLOSE THATS ON GOD THAT DUMBASS LIMP DICK BITCH REALLY FUCKED UP

Anonymous said: I HATE JJK HES AN ASS FOR GG DOWN ON 2WOMEN HE CAN JUS F HIMSELF RN

Anonymous said: JUNGKOOK IS GONNA GET HIS ASS BEATEN UGHSHHSKDHXJSJ MOTHERFUCKER WHAT? WHAT??? THIS BITCH IS A RIDE OR DIE AND UR GOING AFTER FAKEASS KIRI REALLY? FOR REAL I THOUGHT UOU WERE BETTER THAN THIS BUT NO ALL MEN DO IS LIE LIE LIE

Anonymous said: the way i closed the tumblr app when i saw jungkook saying “kiri came over last night”

Anonymous said: alright we beating jk’s ass @ noon 😤

Anonymous said: WHY WOULD JUNGKOOK DO THAT TO OC LIKE WHAT I AGREE WITH OC HE USED HER AND THAT MAKES ME 😡😡😡😡😡

Anonymous said: BITCHIN PART 8 WTFGGGG MY HEART Do be Hurting . i’m going to beat jungkook up !!!!

betysotelo18 said: It’s been a few minutes since I read part 8 and I can’t stop thinking about what could happen next… the meanwhile F U jeon Jungkook, you did wrong

Anonymous said: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! I CANT 😭 WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH THIS CHAPTER HUUUU JUNGKOOK WTFF BRO…….. my heart is breaking for them. Why can’t they just date already wkxbdbbdjdjdjdjdjdj this is onky misunderstanding right? and thankyou for the new chapter sis hihuhihih💕💕

Anonymous said: im shocked i dunno who i hate more rn you or jungkook. my heart is literally SHATTERED he better fix this or else im traveling to the 80s just to kick his ass 😭🤬

Anonymous said: never want to punch jungkook in the face like i wanna do right now

Anonymous said: JUNGKOOK WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUCK 🤬 for the love of god rose why do u did that to me i wanna die

Anonymous said: ROSE WTF WAS THAT MAN !!! my heart it hurts and like wtf jungpuke!! Why would he do that to reader !! why would he sleep with kiri and then sleep with reader ?!? Like go siekkeksjdjejjejdbehhe i wish i can put in reaction pictures in here

CUTIE PIES

Anonymous said: Omggg thank you so so much for this chapter, for the whole fic. Thank you for sharing it with us. You are a great writter. Seriously! I just love how every chapter is so intense. Not only the smut is amazing but every detail, every action, the whole plot, all of the dialogues. I actually cried at the end I love how I can really feel everything. All the emotions. Ah and they’re so cute!!! But why was JK so weak? Even if that’s what you wanted since the beginning… I thought- BOY WTF??? :’( But seriously this is the type of thing I love, I am WEAK for this. The slow burn, the oblivious idiots that love each other but keep suffering thing. And you write it so well. Your mind!!! Your talent!!! I love it. Thank you, for real ♥♥♥ I’m antecipating the next chapter, but already sad that it’s almost ending :((( I’m gonna miss this a lot. Anyways, take your time, baby. And have a nice day! ♥♥♥ (Sorry for bad english btw)

tinievmin said: ROSE. IM IN PAIN. I FELT THE BREAKUP BETWEEN YN AND JUNGKOOK. IM SO SADDD. But not related to the plot, your writing is ART. You always make it flow so well aND WOW!!! I don’t have enough words to express how much I love your works

AND FINALLY, AN INTELLECTUAL

Anonymous said: kiri is a bitch i said what i said

#ask

43 notes · View notes

msbluebell · 5 years

Note

what about a "you start war, you face consequences AU"? At the end of BE Route, Edelgard thinks have achieved her goal. But everything go wrong! First, Claude, who has survived, becomes the king of Almyra and declare war to her to the Empire . And he's VERY powerful. Also some former nobles of Alliance and Kingdom don't accept the reunification and start a rebellion with the former knights of Seiros . The peace wil not happen any soon and a lot of people die or suffer or join the rebellion 1-2

2-2. Finally, Felix has survived and becomes the feral guy and decides to avenge Dimitri (his best friend), Rodrigue (his dad) and Sylvain (his lover) by killing the black eagles one by one and nobody (even Byleth) can stop him, no matter what they do. And Byleth has not the power of Sothis anymore. They can only watch everything falling apart, while being powerless. They can only watch their friends die by Felix's hands, Claude taking back the Alliance AND the Kingdom, ect...

This is actually what would have most likely happened if the Black Eagle Route didn’t have an Deus Ex Machina ending and the Crests and God powers didn’t disappear for no reason. I have made no secret of the fact that Black Eagles is my least favorite Route (yes, I’m including Church Route in this), and the lack of actually having to reform and change the system thanks to magical convenience is one of the reasons.

Nobles will not give up their crest fixation just because Edelgard hates crests. And without crest disappearing, it is unlikely they will take to Edelgard’s reforms. She may end up turning her own allies against her. Especially ones that don’t believe in her cause and just gave up because they didn’t want to be killed.

Also, it is a very, very, very dumb move to spare Claude in the Black Eagles Route. No matter what, he is a political opponent that proved he’s 1) very manipulative 2) very good at thinking on his feet and gathering resources. He should have died just to eliminate the potential for later rebellious uprisings, even if Byleth and Edelgard didn’t know anything about his ties to Almyra. Looking objectively at Claude’s goals and the ending of Black Eagles Route, yeah, he still has a dream of uniting Fodlan and Almyra. And unlike Fodlan, Almyra isn’t suffering from being war torn for five years. There IS a chance he’d come in take over, especially if any of his friends died in the battle.

Point is, Black Eagles Route has a lot of potential for mess if the crests don’t vanish (which I am so fixated on. The CHURCH didn’t make the crests, so why did they disappear? I interpret Byleth’s powers disappearing because they choose to relinquish them, which is a slap in the face to Sothis btw Byleth, but why did the CRESTS disappear when the Church fell? They had nothing to do with their creation! Ugh.)

(Black Eagles, much as I dislike their Route based on their actions and lack of self-awareness, still deserved a better written ending.)

But I’m ranting. Let’s get on to the prompt with Consequences AU:

I’ve spoken in another post about how Byleth, as I interpret them, more accidentally sided with the Black Eagles than anything. It would be the same in this AU, accidentally burning their bridges when they saved Edelgard in the tomb. Then they were forced to see the path through to the end because they couldn’t go back to anyone else, and they DID disagree with Rhea and distrust the Church, so maybe Edelgard is right...?

It was foolish to hope, in hindsight.

Rhea going mad was something that they expected, but they didn’t think their own actions would be the breaking point that drove her to such insanity. And they can’t erase the image of Dimitri kneeling in the rain as an axe meets his flesh. So many of their students died...but that was just...pitiful.

Edelgard assures him that it was for a better future, that all the death and sacrifice now will mean less suffering later.

But it’s hard to look at the people suffering in the NOW and think it’s better for the future. It’s like Edelgard is so fixated on the world that will be she forgot to take care of the world they’re in, or maybe she didn’t, and the people around her just don’t seem as real to her as the people in the future she’s envisioned.

Byleth’s first clue that everything was going wrong should have been their hair and eye color returning to it’s original state.

Sothis and they...the both of them have always been one, whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. They are a single entity that was separated and then made whole again. But now there is an emptiness inside of them, and the emotions they’ve developed are fast fading again. They’re becoming numb once again as they lose the part of themselves that was her, and they don’t understand why.

Soon, they even stop caring.

Edelgard insisted that it was a wonderful sign. That they pointed their blades towards the heavens and won, so her path must be the righteous path.

Byleth no longer cares enough to correct her.

Their students, the Black Eagles, frown more when they speak now. Byleth has lost their emotions, so the fondness is ebbing away again. They’re distressed as they lose their teacher, and Byleth tries to pretend they care until even that seems pointless.

They follow Edelgard because they know that’s what they decided to do, not because they care. They’re too muted now, and even guilt is slipping away as time erodes more and more of Sothis from their very being.

Then the murders start to happen.

It starts when Dorathea was found outside of the Opera House. Her body had been cut down by the singular strike of a sword, left to rot in the street by an unknown assassin. The Black Eagles mourn, and Edelgard swears justice will be paid. The guards are doubled in the city and the hunt is on.

It doesn’t keep Fernidand from dying later. His entire platoon was killed, a mix of sword wounds and Reason magic leaving behind a field of corpses. Witnesses say it was a pale, dark haired, man. Just one. With an unused lance tied to his back. Something about revenge, the witnesses say. For a father, a best friend, a brother, a sister, and a lover.

A year goes by and the guards get lazy again. It seems the assassin had reached their goal or died in the process.

Until Almyra declares war.

Byleth gives their advice as it is sought, but no longer cares enough to see to the personal welfare of the troops themselves. It’s...demoralizing, to say the least.

Then Berneddeta dies in her room, a knife left behind, the signal of House Gautier’s crest carved into the hilt of the blade. A warning.

There are no Gautiers left, though, they were all killed, so it can only be Felix, Byleth explains to Edelgard, because there is no one else left to avenge House Gautier, and Felix was a childhood friend of both Dimitri, who is dead, Ingrid, who died defending Dimitri, and Sylvain, who also died in that battle.

Edelgard puts a bounty on his head.

But her troops are too spread thin with Almyra’s sudden and unrelenting assault. With another war on the horizon, many nobles that don’t care for Edelgard or were taken over surrender to Almyra without hesitation. Fodlan is once again halved, and with it Edelgard’s forces.

Then Lindhardt is killed by Felix, this time with a note: “I’m coming for you Edelgard.”

Claude, it seems, is the leader of the Almyran forces, and declares quite happily that he’s going to make Fodlan a part of his country. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he says it though, and he’s barely holding back heavy disgust.

Byleth can’t help but think of how foolish they are when they have sentiment.

Byleth also advises Edelgard to surrender.

“Not you.” Edelgard begs, knuckles gripped against the table, “Of all people, you cannot abandon me.”

But the Byleth she wants is long gone. Or, actually, they never existed. But if if they had her dream killed them until nothing but a numb shell was left behind. Byleth, as the are, is under no illusions of what they are now. A walking corpse, with all that made them human faded into the back with a sleeping Goddess that was once themselves.

Casper, who swore he wouldn’t let another one of his friends die, falls next. Felix, it seemed, has sided with Claude and is now leading the lands that was formally Faerghus. The people of the Alliance and Fearghus help rebel, throwing riots so large that they cannot be suppressed.

Petra is gone shortly after, taken by riots.

“FOR GOOD KING DIMITRI!” Cry out the people of Faerghus as they flood the streets of Fhiridad. Imperial soldiers are pushed back by people not even wearing armor, such is their numbers, and when actual soldiers come Faerghus is no longer a Dukedom of the Empire.

“FOR THE NOBLE CAUSE!” Cry the people of the Alliance as they’re lead by those still left of the Golden Deer. Hilda’s older brother has taken the helm and lead them to victory.

When they finally take Enbarr Byleth isn’t fighting. They don’t care, and watch from Edelgard’s side as they march her palace. They warn her to surrender, but she claims she’ll die first.

Felix walks in, and cuts down Hubert. Claude walks in behind him, hands on his hips, looking up at Edelgard and Byleth with a cold smile, “Did you get what you wanted?”

“I don’t want things.” Byleth answers, emotionless, “I haven’t since the power Sothis gave faded away, and I was left incomplete again.”

“Sounds awful, hope all this was worth that.” Claude answers as Edelgard’s eyes widen in horror.

“Perhaps if I could still feel, that would hurt.” Byleth answers him, “But I can only remember what emotions felt like, the experience is lost to me now.”

“...wow, that almost makes killing you feel like I’m being merciful.” Claude remarks as Felix glares from beside him, “Teach, why did you DO this to yourself?”

“I had meant to take Edelgard prisoner.” Byleth confesses, “I was simply run out and had nowhere else to go. Helping her seemed like the logical choice at the time, but it’s strange, I can’t see the logic in it now.”

Claude originally meant to take Byleth prisoner, if they could somehow be captured. Interrogate them and whatnot, allow their former students to air their grievances before they were executed for treachery.

Not that just feels too cruel when Byleth was apparently already killed long ago.

So, when the final battle ends, Claude tells Felix to end Byleth.

Byleth never even lifts their sword.

#fe3h #fe16 #byleth eisner #sothis #edelgard von fresberg #felix hugo fraldarius #claude von reigen #Black Eagles #Black Eagles Route #Consequences AU #asks

179 notes · View notes

winterromanov · 5 years

Text

we will grow taller together - bucky x reader

PART TWO - NO KID HATES CUPCAKES

parts: zero | one

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

extract: Before you accept his request, you hand him the box of cupcakes. He looks at you with surprise and uncertainty, mouth dropping open a little. You snort a laugh. “They’re cupcakes. Steve told me about Clover and I saw them on the way here. Couldn’t resist.”

genre: nanny x single father!au

taglist:@blindedbyyourgrace17 @verygraphicink @chubby-dumplin @igotkatiepowers @welcome-to-my-studylife (still open, reply/message to be added)

“This is so weird.”

As soon as work had finished a text had appeared in your notifications from Steve, detailing an address of a small apartment block in Brooklyn, and to meet him there. There didn’t seem an option in Steve’s world to decline the invitation. You were going to meet James Barnes and you were going to do it now. Well—within the hour, because despite having lived in New York for the last few years you were still heavily reliant on Google maps and sheer hope that you’d turn a corner and randomly appear at your destination. You’d ended up passing the same indie bakery so many times that it felt rude not to go in and buy some of the cupcakes displayed beautifully in the window. Now, you clutch a white paper box in your hand filled with a strawberry cheesecake, two Oreo and one that is peanut butter and jelly, because even if whatever is about to happen goes horribly, you figure no kid hates cupcakes.

Steve shakes his head, leaning across to press the buzzer. The apartment block is, admittedly, much nicer than your own. There is a lot of exposed brickwork in an edgy, retro way rather than a neglected way, and no drunks loiter in the stairwells. James lives in one of two apartments on the fifth (and top) floor of the complex and when you clambered into the elevator no-one was peeing in it.

It’s practically five-star luxury.

“What did you say to him about why I’m here?” you ask. You fight the urge to slap him when he looks back at you in faux-innocence. “For fuck’s sake, Steve! Have you not even told him—“

Your sentence is cut short when the lock on the door clicks and a man appears in the doorway, rubbing his left eye tiredly like he’s just woken up. His hair is a little too long, dark and dipping into his eye-line, and he’s wearing a scruffy Columbia hoodie and sweats. James Barnes. You do recognise him. Maybe not this exact version of him, but you do recognise him all the same.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greets, a bit too brightly. James blinks, as if he’s going to reply, but the action causes him to do a double-take when he sees you standing there.

“Hey…” he says, eyebrows knitting together. You offer him an awkward smile. “Sorry—I, uh, I wasn’t expecting visitors. I thought Steve was just dropping by.”

“Yeah,” you reply, glaring pointedly at Steve. “I thought he was going to mention that I’d be tagging along.”

Steve shrugs simply, like this was his plan all along. He claps Bucky on the shoulder, but his eyes remain on you, sussing you out. “Sorry, man, completely slipped my mind. This is (Y/N), by the way.”

You offer a wave which, in hindsight, is super dorky, but Bucky’s look of suspicion softens to elusive recognition. “Yeah, yeah, of course. You knew Natasha from college.”

You’re so surprised he remembers a detail like that at all and it must show on your face, but James doesn’t react either way. “Yeah. We were roommates in freshman year.”

“Right.” Bucky nods once, before ushering off to the side. “Please come in. It’s a bit of a mess, but I didn’t—I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep for.”

You walk awkwardly into a fairly large living space, the flooring a light wood laminate other than a bright striped rug in the centre. The walls are plain but spotted with photographs and prints, the sofas a dark red fabric and positioned round a glass coffee table. A television is positioned on a cabinet on the central wall and while much bigger than yours, it’s not that catches your eye—there are books everywhere. Books stacked haphazardly on shelves along all the walls; an antique mahogany bookcase full to brimming in an alcove; books spilling off the coffee table and onto the floor. There are standard paperbacks you’d find in every single Barnes and Noble, fat black Penguin classics, leather-bound first editions that may have fallen out of Belle’s library in Beauty and the Beast. You are that blown away by the sheer volume of literature you almost forget why you’re here in the first place.

That’s when you notice a set of illustrated Harry Potter hardbacks on an armchair and tiny mismatched socks drying on a clothes horse, a stuffed Paddington Bear and Peter Rabbit chilling on top of a chest that matches the bookcase. You also notice the absence of a certain child.

“No Clover?” Steve asks, sitting down on the sofa in a naturally comfortable way that suggests he’s a consistent visitor to the Barnes household. He pulls out a cuddly kitten that must have fallen between the sofa cushions and places it gently beside him.

Bucky shakes his head. He rubs his eyes again. “No—Becca takes her on Thursdays. She’ll be back in a couple of hours or so. Gives me the chance to mark papers or, uh. Nap. Apparently.”

A laptop is also open on the coffee table, and a copy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. “Are you a teacher?”

“No—well, kind of. I lecture in literature at Columbia.” Well, that explains the sweater, then. And the books. He gestures towards the couch. “Please, make yourself at home.”

Before you accept his request, you hand him the box of cupcakes. He looks at you with surprise and uncertainty, mouth dropping open a little. You snort a laugh. “They’re cupcakes. Steve told me about Clover and I saw them on the way here. Couldn’t resist.”

“Oh.” James says simply, looking down at the box. It’s like he doesn’t receive kindnesses from strangers very often and makes you wonder just how much he distrusts the world. You mean—from what you’ve heard, he’s got a right to be unsure. “Thank you. She’ll love these.”

“No problem. The lady in the shop said the peanut butter and jelly ones are unlike anything you’ve ever tasted. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, but she was wearing a hat shaped like a red velvet cupcake so obviously I trusted her opinion.”

His mouth cracks into a glimmer of a smile. Muted, subtle, almost reluctant. He may be one of the saddest people you’ve ever met. It burns off him like a bonfire. The ashes gather in piles round your feet.

(Gosh, you thought empathy was Steve’s thing.)

Steve suggests making coffee and James doesn’t disagree, considering he’s still got about thirty quizzes to grade by tomorrow. As they both disappear off into the kitchen, Steve gives you a pointed look and closes the door behind him. It feels all kinds of wrong to corner this hurting, confused man into whatever arrangement Steve has in his head; an arrangement you’re not even sure of yourself. But you find yourself wanting to help him anyway. James is sad. But he’s gentle, and clever, and trying to make the best of a situation nobody wishes on anybody.

As you try not to eavesdrop on the muffled voices in the kitchen, you walk the outline of the living room, pausing in front of items that catch your eye. Each of James’ photos sits in beautiful, ornate frames, winding wood engraved with flowers and leaves that you assume must be gifts. You recognise Clover immediately—most of his pictures include a tiny girl with frizzy blonde hair, varying in age from new-born to recent. One sat in front of a grey screen, showing off the gap in her front teeth. One in a swimming pool wearing flashy pink sunglasses. One where James is clutching a small white bundle, his cheeks flushed red, looking down at the baby like she’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. There’s a couple with either Steve or Natasha, another with a tall, dark-skinned guy you’ve seen on Steve’s Facebook, a few others with two unnamed brunettes—one, you think, must be his sister or at least a close relative, the same bright blue eyes and dark hair.

The other—well, it must be Connie. Petite and elegant and totally gorgeous, with a small upturned nose and big eyes like an animal in an old Disney cartoon. She grips Clover tightly and the girl is frozen in a giggle, a kiss pressed to her cheek. You can almost see James on the other side of the camera, totally unknowing that it’s one of the last times he’ll see the two of them together in the present.

You deliberately force yourself away before spiralling. Real loss stories. The last thing you need is for your heart to completely spill over. Instead, you drag yourself over to his beautiful bookcase, running your hand over the faultless dark wood. The glass inside is dusty and probably needs a once over with a cloth but you can see inside anyway, eyes skimming over titles. You see some Ford Madox Ford, Woolf, Joyce, Plath, a massive collection of Keats offset by Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. There’s no consistency to his interests. Instead, there’s a bit of everything (in the English speaking canon at least) and to your delight, even some philosophy.

(Admittedly your philosophy major hasn’t come in that useful, but at least it’s fucking interesting.)

A few minutes pass before the kitchen door opens again. Both men look flustered like they’ve just had a fraught, whispered argument, which doesn’t bode well for you—but instead of addressing it, they sit down on opposite sofas in silence. Steve’s arms are crossed, mug loudly placed on The Chamber of Secrets. James’ eyebrows are arched in a scowl. No-one has made you a drink, clearly forgotten in the process.

Well. This is fucking awkward. You don’t know whether it would more weird to sit down or to just leave. You quietly start to make your way to the couch next to Steve but he abruptly rises, muttering something about going to the bathroom. Suddenly, you’re left alone with James, the tension sitting uncomfortably in the air like storm clouds. You fold your legs over each other, mouth pressed in a thin line.

“I—“ James begins, before locking his jaw closed. He’s pensive. Choosing the right words. “I don’t know what Steve has said to you, exactly, but I’m fine. I don’t need anybody. And it wasn’t his place…”

“Oh my God, I know,” you interrupt hastily, not wanting him to think you’ve forced your way into his home with intent you had no right to have. “Trust me, James, I’m only here as a favour to Steve. He always thinks he knows what’s best and, like, I know his intentions are good but his best isn’t always everyone else’s.”

Not for the first time since you arrived, James looks surprised. The tension seems to dissipate slightly, the atmosphere less fraught. His shoulders relax. “It’s not that you don’t…I’m sure Clover would like you, but I’m still getting used to…”

“You really don’t need to explain. Like you said. It isn’t anyone’s place but yours to decide what you need.”

James’ smile is soft and tired. “Thank you for caring enough to turn up, though. That’s more than I can say for some people I actually know well.”

Ouch. His bitterness singes on his tongue, still raw and swollen. You can allow Steve to be right about one thing—maybe you could be a good friend to him, or at least someone you could get to know better. You have a distinct lack of any real relationships in your life and his ridiculous collection of books is enough to convince you he’s someone worth befriending. You reach out for a wad of neon post-it notes and a biro, scribbling down your phone number, slapping it unceremoniously onto his knee. He rips it off with bemusement, curling it into his palm.

“If you want to complain about students or laundry or how life is sometimes incredibly shitty,” you grin, “Call me. Unless it’s eight-to-six most days, because my boss is a tight-ass and won’t hire anyone else so I can have more than one day off every year. Other than that I’m totally free.”

“Wow. You have even less free time than me. At least Clover wakes up past eight on weekends.” He blinks slowly, clutching your number tightly. “And thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

Steve has been in the bathroom for an awfully long time and you’ve known him long enough to realise he’s doing it on purpose. Instead of hanging about while Steve and James chat uneasily in your presence, you take it as your cue to leave. Bucky tries to explain that you don’t need to leave so soon, but you’re genuinely worried Steve will sit on the toilet playing iPhone games for literal hours in order to leave you two to ‘talk’ if you don’t walk out the door.

“I hope Clover enjoys the cupcakes,” you say, once you’re stood back in the hall. “You should have one too. The endorphin rush you get while eating cake is unparalleled.”

James laughs, like actually laughs, his hand curled round the doorframe. “Maybe I will. See you around.”

“Yeah. See you.”

The door eases shut and you shiver now you’re out of the warmth of James’ apartment, but you can’t help but think this whole weird thing didn’t go as badly as you thought it would.

#mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #we will grow taller together

173 notes · View notes