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kalpasio · 1 year ago

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Batter Up

First Base

A Kalpas x Reader Soulmate AU, Chapter 1 below!

You loved playing baseball with your coworkers, but making the teams could be such a pain in the ass. Because half of the office knew who their soulmate was, but it was never even. If it didn’t give you such an advantage, no one would care, but you all knew how much of an impact having your soulmate watch made. Professional sports teams wouldn’t even consider players who hadn’t met their partner. Sure, there were a few couples in the office that could just be put on opposite teams like Seele and Bronya, but not everyone was so lucky.

Some were like Sakura who had met her soulmate, but Kallen wasn’t always available to watch. Her job as a detective meant she had a sporadic schedule and missed games even if she originally said she could make it. The majority of the office, however, was in the same boat as you.

Your soulmate was still out there somewhere, and this was your chance to find them. All around the city, there were open areas that could be used to play different sports. Rather than fencing them off from the public, however, the space was easily visible, that way, passing pedestrians might catch a glimpse of a future partner.

Every other week, your office would reserve the field to play baseball (for ‘team building’) and every other week, you’d be out there hoping to suddenly start playing better. As much as you valued this opportunity, setting up with a n uneven number of soulmates really made you question if all this aggravation was worth it.

“Why can’t we just send one person with a match home?”

“We’d have an uneven number of players,” Dr. Mei closed her eyes and sighed. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to explain, and she doubted it would be the last.

“Look, each team has more than enough players, we can survive with one less,” you suggested. You just wanted to get this show on the road, even if it was an unfair contest.

“I can go,” Kiana raised her hand. “I need to buy some groceries for dinner anyway.”

“If you leave, we’ll just be back where we stared, you’d have to stay for Mei or we’re still not even on soulmates.” (Having two ‘Mei’s in the office was not at all confusing)

“I’ll go,” Durandal raised her hand this time. Normally Rita would be on the field as well, but she decided to sit out to finish up some work.

It had taken twenty minutes, but finally, you all got on your teams and sorted out everyone’s position. Since your team had the extra player, Sakura offered to bat, but not play in the field. She had hit more homeruns than anyone else in the office, but couldn’t throw to save her life, so there were no objections.

At first, the teams were even, though it was clear those with their partners watching were carrying most of the weight. Around the third inning, you saw Sakura jog over to the fence while you were getting set up at first base. Her sister, Rin, was there, fingers curling through the chain-links while she practically bounced up and down. Next to her was probably the most intimidating man you had ever seen.

His arms were crossed to show just how thrilled he was to be there. He wore black slacks and a blazer, similar to what you’d seen Kallen wear to work, but her muscles weren’t nearly as obvious through the fabric as this guys. It didn’t help that the net behind the batter was casting a shadow over his face to cover what you were certain was a permanent glare.

Raven, your pitcher, whistled sharply to get your attention and gave a smug grin when your head whipped back around. Giving a sheepish smile, you adjusted your glove and got ready for the next inning.

And that would have been that. Sakura talking to her weirdly creepy friend (or was he Rin’s friend?) at the baseball game between rounds. Except you started playing better. Like. Way better. Only an inning later your team had pulled ahead a noticeable amount, almost entirely because of you. At first, there was a bit of grumbling from the other side, but once it became clear what was happening, everyone just seemed excited to finish the game. Some because they were sore losers, but most of your coworkers wanted you to go find your soulmate.

As soon as the game was over, you ran to the fence to ask for your soulmate. Of the five or six people who had been watching, two had left before you even got over to them. The third told you she had been to a couple of your group’s games now. If she was your soulmate, you would have known by now. The rest were happy to give you their number, but it wasn’t apparent that one was your match. With a sigh, you walked back to the dugout to pack up before heading home. On the way out, you stopped to talk to Sakura for a minute.

“Any luck?” Your coworker turned to face you, still holding onto Rin’s hand.

“I got a few numbers but none of them really stand out you know?” you shrugged. “I’ll try talking to them and hopefully next time we play I’ll get a definite answer.”

“It wasn’t obvious for me and Kallen at first. Give it some time,” Sakura sent you a smile. “This is Kalpas, by the way,” she waved to the man who showed up with Rin. He still looked angry; the only difference was that you were up close now instead of far away. “He actually works with Kallen, but we were friends long before they met.”

With a polite smile you held out your hand in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you.” Kalpas grunted and looked down at your hand but made no move to return the gesture. After a few seconds of awkwardly standing there, you were about to pull your hand back when Rin reached up and took hold of it.

“You’re supposed to shake hands!” she said. “Like this!” The girl shook your hand harshly up and down way too many times, but you appreciated her enthusiasm. When she finally stopped, you gave a small laugh and pulled your hand back to rest on the strap between your shoulder and your bag.

“Well, I gotta get going,” you nodded your head in the direction of your car. “I’ll see you on Monday!” The three of you waved as you walked off and Kalpas remained still as a statue, brooding as always.

“I don’t think it’s me,” Derek shook his head. He had invited you over to play some video games on the weekend after the two of you had spent the week prior texting. It was meant to be a relaxed date, but you both knew you were testing your soulmate bond. The fact that you both were struggling with a game as simple as Mario made it apparent that the bond simply wasn’t there.

Turning to look at him, the grimace on Derek’s face matched yours. “That’s what I was afraid of.” You sighed. “I really have enjoyed talking with you though.”

“Oh same here!” he was quick to agree, bringing back a bit of your smile. “And you don’t have to go, we can keep hanging out. I just don’t want to act like there’s something going on between us when there’s not.”

“Right, no I get it. I actually have some errands to run so I’m gonna head out, but we should keep in touch!”

“Yeah of course!”

You stood from the couch with Derek following as you grabbed your things and stood by the door. Both of you were clearly uncomfortable and you couldn’t wait to get out of this apartment. The smile you gave as you left was forced, but so was his. You both knew there weren’t any errands, you just needed some space for now. Derek might make a good friend in a few weeks but the disappointment of not finding your soulmate was hard to ignore.

On the bright side, you only had the rest of this week before your next baseball game, and you’d already scheduled with Nick for him to be there. Given that Derek wasn’t your partner, and you only had two choices to begin with, it seemed likely Nick was your soulmate, but you wanted to be sure.

Over the past week you had felt like you got along better with Derek, but you may have just been too focused on one person; or maybe you and Nick just hadn’t found the right topic to talk about. Regardless, you were excited for this Friday.

“Your soulmate gonna be there tonight?”

“I hope so!” The workday seemed to drag on forever. It felt like your computer knew you wanted time to go faster, and it was intentionally freezing on every document you tried to open.

Even though you potentially had your soulmate waiting for you, the teams were balanced out like you still weren’t matched. That way, if Nick is your soulmate, you would be able to tell.

He was right on time, giving you a wave and a huge smile that you returned. As soon as the game started, your eyes were practically glued to the scoreboard, waiting for your team to pull ahead. But it never happened.

You ended up losing so badly that your team forfeited after the seventh inning.

“So…”

“Yeah.”

Your voice was quiet, the disappointment clear. Nick for his part at least seemed to be putting on a brave face.

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” he said. “I keep going to games and thinking I’ve found my soulmate only to come up with nothin.”

You winced, feeling bad for adding to his list of not-soulmates. “I hope you find them soon?”

“Same goes for you!”

The walk to the dugout was too long and you could feel the pitying eyes of your coworkers on you the whole way.

“No luck?” Kallen looked up from where she had squatted to fuss over Rin’s hair.

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p,’ frustration evident. “I wouldn’t be so bummed but that was my last lead. That means my soulmate walked off before I even saw them and who knows when I’ll see them again.”

“Want me to pull up the surveillance footage?” Kallen joked and almost fell over when Sakura nudged her.

You gave a nervous laugh, “while I’m sure you have cameras everywhere, I think I’m all set.” That would be a fun conversation to have. ‘Yeah, I think we might be soulmates so I had my coworker’s wife pull up some secret police cameras to find out who you are and where you live. Wanna get food this Saturday?’

I'm gonna be honest, I know very little about Kallen, I kinda just made her character up as I went oops?

#azaryawrites #kalpas x reader #tamalethebear #cross posted on ao3 #hi3 x reader #x reader #soulmate AU

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madaboutmunson · 3 years ago

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Intro Part to a little something I started writing this evening

The Drive-In - Part 1

Part 2 | Links to all Parts | AO3 Link

Steve sighs, hands running over the steering wheel in front of him. He glances at the empty seat next to him and checks his watch.

27 minutes.

That's how long Felicity had been gone, leaving Steve in an awkward situation. Every bone in his body wanted to get out of the car, find her and make sure she was ok, but he also felt she had bailed on him. His scouring the drive-in and calling out for her might double how much of a loser he felt already.

He taps the steering wheel a few times and groans. He wouldn't be able to rest, not knowing if she was ok, so he swallows his pride and gets out, and takes a look around.

After one hand on the hip 360 turn, Steve drowns in envy. Every fucking car around him is a God damn soft porn extravaganza, and that's precisely what Steve should be doing. Right now, in fact.

This was her idea! Go to the drive-in, play up to her little exhibitionist ways. Which, you know, weren't particularly Steve's bag, but he had made it to date four, and if this is what it would take to find love, he was going to do it.

Falling in love shouldn't be this fucking hard. It should just happen, as it did with Nance, but this time it wouldn't be bullshit, and he wouldn't get his heart ground up into chum.

Steve sighs as the memories flood his head, and he starts heading toward the food stalls. He wanted to, but he couldn't blame Nancy. He fell so hard for her, but as it turns out, he'd fallen in love with an idea of her, what she could be in Steve's future, but that didn't match up with Nancy's, and deep down, he knew that. He just struggled to accept it. They could have been perfect together, but a family wasn't her priority, and objectively, as her friend, neither should it be; she was so bright, and the world was her oyster. Steves's idea of a loving family home felt like freedom to him, but for Nance, it was a prison.

And no one has got under his skin like Nancy.

It's not like he wasn't trying. Every girl he doted on, learned their likes and dislikes, gave them gifts, laughed at all their jokes, was a gentleman, and never showed up to meet them without looking like a picture of perfection.

It was just never enough.

Steve rounds the corner and spots the voluminous wavy hair in a huddle giggling with some other girls. At least he knew she was safe now. He turns to walk away, but her friend spots him, widening her eyes at Felicity, indicating the awkwardness bomb about to go off. Felicity turns and gives an awkward smile of apology because she was rumbled.

Steve opens his mouth to ask if she's ok but is cut off before he begins.

"You know, Steve, I think I'm gonna head home with my friends. One of them just got dumped."

Yeah, me, he thinks to himself.

She's a terrible actress but not as bad as her friend, who, on command, begins fake sobbing in her own hands.

Be a gentleman. He reminds himself.

"Do you ladies need a ride home?" he says, utilizing his big bright white smile.

Felicity shakes her head in a no and looks sheepishly at the ground. He gives her a tight closed-mouth smile and nods before heading to the nearest stall to buy some popcorn and a soda.

On the walk back to the car, through hickey-ville, he wonders. What had he done wrong this time? They were in public, and he'd made sure to get the cliff notes on this movie from Robin. It had a long runtime of over two hours and frankly sounded so bizarre. He was sure it would be make-out city, which is what she had wanted.

Oh God...had he kissed her wrong? Surely not; she would have said something, right? Did his breath smell? No. Not possible. He gets into the driver's seat, puts the snacks in his lap, and checks anyway. Still minty fresh.

At a complete loss, Steve settles back in his seat to watch this Space Odyssey or whatever it is called.

Before he is even an eighth of the way down into his extra-large popcorn, the passenger door opens.

She's come back!! She gets in awkwardly, her back to him. Steve promptly stops eating and hurriedly throws chewing gum in his mouth.

"Hey," he says gently, "Everything ok?" he reaches over in the dark and puts a hand on her shoulder.

He feels her stiffen under his touch, so he takes his hand away, "Are you gonna not look at me for the rest of the night, Flick?" He gets no response, but her shoulders move in a silent laugh.

Yes! She's laughing. He's golden, back in the game Harrington. Careful to keep his hands to himself, he leans over and asks lowly in her ear, "You like that nickname? Mind if I call you that?"

"As long as I get to stay in the safety of this car, you can call me whatever you like, big boy," a flirtatious voice that does not fucking belong to Felicity speaks into the darkness.

The head turns quickly, dark waves of hair and the aroma of tobacco spin around with it, and Steve is greeted with an enormous toothy grin, "Harrington."

Steve rapidly recoils in his seat until his back is pressed up against his door, "Munson?!"

#eddie munson #eddiemunson #stranger things #eddie stranger things #steveddie #steve harrington #steveharrington #steddie #steeeeeeveharrington #madaboutmunsonmini #Madaboutmunson #madaboutmunson #madaboutmunsondrivein #the drive-in

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candles-at-sunset · 3 years ago

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Sunrises with you - Jean Kirstein x fem!reader - Chapter 3

Hi again! Sorry this chapter took so long to write, i have had a busy time lately but i have finally finished it! this will be the last chapter so thank you to those who have stuck by it and were willing to read this! I might write more in future but we shall see! enjoy reading and please remember to like and comment it truly makes my day :)) heres a link to my ao3 if you wanna check it out :))

Ratings/TW - ok so this chapter is the reason i have rated it mature, there will be smut in this one so pleased do not interact if you are a minor! This also has scene where some people may be uncomfortable as it shows a guy getting a bit aggressive with y/n so i have put stars (****) where it starts and ends so you can skip over it! If you also want to skip over the smut just stop reading when your reach this line “ Lifting your chin up, you press a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling back..."

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - Club events and realisations

By the time you had finished with your make up, you hear a knock on the front door, followed by Sasha greeting Connie and Jean in. As you apply your last false eyelash to your lash line, you hear Jean ask Sasha “Where’s Y/n at? I thought they’d be ready by now?”

You hear Sasha huff a laugh as she replies, “Ugh still getting ready, though she was in the bathroom for aN HOUR!” She yells in the direction of your room.

“Shut up Sasha, I had to shave the monster legs! And you spent longer than me in there!” You shout back, laughing lightly as you turn back to your vanity mirror. Checking yourself one last time, you feel proud of the look for tonight. Black eyeliner across your eyes to go with the soft smoky eye with a hint of green, not too dark but still noticeable. The lashes you go with aren’t too dramatic, as you don’t want to take away from the overall eye look, so natural was the vibe you go for. You have a small amount of foundation on, just to cover some imperfections and a small amount of contour to define your face. You generally go for something lighter but as its Mikasa’s birthday, you wanted to try something different. For lips you keep it simple, a dark crimson with gloss over the top, really standing out and completing the look.

Happy with the overall, you stand up and face the full-length mirror near your wardrobe, observing the outfit one last time. The boots you went with were ankle boots, but had a thick sole and were heeled slightly, making you just that extra bit taller. You honestly cannot thank Sasha enough for the outfit, it did wonders for your ass. You decided against a bra tonight, purely because you could not be bothered with being uncomfortable, so your nipples were only just visible as you were slightly chilly. With your hair, you also didn’t do much to it, except put a small black headband on as an accessory. With one quick brush down of your clothes, you make your way to your door, grabbing your purse, ID, card, and a light jacket.

As you make your way out your door, you hear Jean groan “Finally! What was taking you…so…Oh.” He stutters as he turns towards you, blush forming on his face, mouth slightly gaped open as he takes in your form. You can feel his eyes lingering on every part of you as he slowly, ever so slowly, rakes his lust-filled eyes further and further up your figure. He focuses on the way the boots make your legs look longer, how your faux leather trousers show off the curves of your hips, the shape of your ass. He stops on your exposed waist for a second longer, before continuing up, eyes bulging slightly as he takes in your breasts, the subtle peak of your nipples driving him crazy. His eyes stay there for a tad longer, and then finally, his eyes meet yours. You too have a flushed face, though it is easily hidden by the small amount of blush you put on. He closes his mouth and opens it again, seemingly trying to form words.

“Yo,,, you uh.. you look... phwew… you look incredible. I mean… wow. Who are you and what have you done with my doll face?”

Your blush deepens, looking away form his honey eyes, towards the floor. “Uhm... thanks. You... you too. You look real nice Jean-boy” And boy he really does. His black trainers and odd socks make you giggle, but then you see the dark, cuffed boyfriend jeans that do nothing to hide his thick thighs, beautifully showing off his ass. He has a long-sleeved black top on, tucked in underneath a short sleeved forest green button shirt, that sits open to show his torso. You also take note of the small chain around his neck and God do you want to grab him by it. How can one man make someone desire all these sultry, lustful images.

Looking behind his shoulder, you can see Connie and Sasha struggling to hide their laughs, almost struggling to breathe as they keep it in. Suddenly, all embarrassment is gone as you stomp over to Connie, grabbing his ear and hiss “Shut up, baldie.” You let go at the sounds of his complaints and turn back around to face Jean.

“So, we good to go? Is everyone else already there?” You ask in a calm voice, trying to compose yourself. Jean hesitates for a moment, eyes darting between you and Connie, before shaking his head.

“Uh Eren, Mikasa, Armin and Annie are there. Turns out Pieke, Porco, Zeke and Marco can’t come in the end, so it’ll just be us really. Oh, and Ymir and Historia, but they’ll join us after their date.”

Nodding your head, you don your jacket and your bag, then turn to Sasha. “Let’s get going. I don’t wanna make the others wait forever”

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

As the taxi arrives at the club, Jean is the first to get out, holding the door open and offering you his hand. You gracefully accept, the inconsiderate blush appearing across your cheeks again at his kindness.

“Thanks Jean” You whisper in his ear as you get up, right against his ear, causing him to freeze slightly.

“N..No Problem” He stutters out, his breath hitching as you brush past him.

As Sasha and Connie get out the car, you all make your way over to the line near the door. “Hey is there still an entry fee? I don’t have cash with me” You ask the group, watching as Connie and Sasha shake their heads.

“Yeh I think there is, but I only have enough for me and Sasha, sorry Y/N” Connie says, giving you an apologetic look.

Smiling slightly, you reply “No no don’t worry, I should’ve checked before we left. Is there an ATM nearby?” Just as you move to get out the queue, Jean takes your wrist to hold you back.

“I can cover us both, don’t worry doll. I figured you wouldn’t remember so I made sure to bring enough.” He speaks softly against your ear, his breath warm against your ear, giving you goosebumps all across your body.

Turning to him, you shake your head “No don’t spend your money on me, I can get the money out its fine” But Jean was having none of it, as he gave the bouncer the money and dragging you in by the wrist.

Instantly, the blasting music hits your ears, the tunes of an indie band reaching your ears, making It hard to focus on what Jeans saying. Assuming he’s leading you to the bar to your right, you follow without complaint.

As you walk, you look around the club, searching for familiar faces. In the back left, at one of the booths, you can see Eren and the others sat there, his arm around Mikasa’s shoulders as they face opposite to Armin and Annie, who mimic their position. Turning back to Jean, you pull his hand towards you, bringing him closer. “I’m gonna go sit with the others at the back, can you get me a drink and I’ll pay you back?”

Jean smiles slightly, and shouts back “Yeah of course, the usual?” Nodding your head, you squeeze his hand one more time, before making your way to the booth. You have to cross the dance floor to do so and making your way though a bunch of drunks dancing proved to be a difficult task.

Eventually, you reach your destination, and catch Mikasa’s line of sight. Her eyes widen and she smiles brightly “Y/n! I’m so happy you came, come sit down!” shuffling across the booth, she makes room for you to sit next to her, and you look around as the others greet you as well.

“Hi guys! Happy birthday Mikasa! I have your present at home, as I thought you’d want to open it not in a club.”

She smiles just a bit brighter and replies “Thank you! I’ll be sure to get it tomorrow if I’m not too hungover. Where are the others?” She gives you a teasing glance. Knowing exactly why she’s looking at you in that way, you ignore it and turn to the others, only to find them also looking at you like that.

With a groan, you exclaim “God, does everyone know about my crush on Jean? Am I that obvious?” The others laugh, and just as Armin makes to reply, Jean, Connie and Sasha appear next to you.

Perfect timing.

As you all shuffle along to make room for everyone, Jean takes his seat next to you, and casually throws his arm behind you to rest it against the back of the booth, fingers resting just shy of your exposed collarbone, stroking the skin gently.

You make eye contact with Armin, the teasing grin widening as he laughs to himself, and you shoot him a warning glare before taking your drink out of Jeans hand. Look at the table, you notice another one placed in front of you, you turn to jean, a silent question on your face.

“Oh, they had a deal on, two drinks for $5 so I thought why not?” As he says this, he gets closer to your ear, probably just so you could hear him. Again with talking in my ear, this is driving me crazy.

Sensing this was going to be a long night, you down the drink in your hand, wincing slightly as the last part was pure alcohol. You hear a few cheers around the table from the girls and open your eyes to see most of the group staring at you in shock.

“What? We’re here to celebrate and get drunk, why wait around?” Understanding your reasoning, everyone goes back to their drinks and easy conversation.

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

4 drinks and two shots in, you were feeling very drunk. You all took it in turns ordering rounds and Connie had insisted everyone had shots as well. Ymir and Historia had joined you just under half and hour ago, sitting in front of the booth with Historia sitting on Ymir’s lap. Needless to say, you were having a great time. It had been a while since you all managed to meet up properly, so when you do it always lifts your spirits.

Hearing a song you liked, you squeal and move to get up “Girls come on, lets go dance!”.

Everyone shuffles out the booth to let you and the ladies run to the dance floor, the guys staying behind, sensing this was a moment for the girls.

You all rush to the dancefloor, forming a circle in the centre and dancing your hearts out. You all sang along to the lyrics, pretending your hand was a microphone, and laughing along with them as you all sang off key. Its moments like this that make you feel happiest, messing about with the most important people in your lives, carefree and together.

After a few songs alone, the others had decided to join you, making the circle disband you all formed a big group. Jean had managed to make his way over to you. Surrounded by your friends, you all dance enthusiastically along with the indie music slamming out of the speakers. You all jumped to the beat, singing along to the lyrics.

When a more slow, sultry song comes on, all the couples break off to hold each other, leaving you and Jean. With all the alcohol in your system, you didn’t think twice to walk up to Jean, and with no hesitation, wrap your arms around his neck and rest your hands at his nape with a smile on your face. Jean gives you a look, like he’s saying are you ok? You nod your head, smile still plastered on your face, and you can feel as Jeans hands come to rest on your waist, the pads of his fingers hot against your exposed skin. Moving your hips, you encourage him to do the same, and you sway to the music together. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks, but you pass that off, blaming the alcohol.

As you continue to dance, Jeans confidence picks up and he draws you closer to him, almost chest to chest. You look up, into his eyes and sing along gently, continuing to sway as you don’t break the contact. He breaks it first, looking down towards your lips, focusing there for a second and then looking back at you with hooded eyes. You feel a blush on your cheeks again and mimic him, your eyes fleeting to his lips and back up. You lick your lips slowly, tongue poking out just barely, but it catches his eye and he’s drawn to look down again. He lingers there longer than last time, and you can see in his eyes as he stares at your eyes again that they’ve become full of lust. Your hips meet slightly as you dance, and you notice just how close you are now. You grind your hips on his hesitantly, and he immediately responds, hips meeting yours. You look up to his eyes again and hold his hungry eyes in your gaze.

Just as you move you face closer to his, the song changes to a more upbeat one, and everyone comes together again. Realising your current position, you cough slightly and take a step back, removing your arms from around Jeans neck.

“I’m just gonna get another drink, ok?” Jean nods his head at your words, giving you a small smile. Turning around, you make your way to the bar, taking a deep breath in as you replay what just happened in your head. You can’t believe that happened. Was it because you were both drunk? Did Jean not actually mean to do that?

Your head was spinning with all these questions that you didn’t notice a man come up behind you.

****

“Those were some moves back there cutie, you come here often?” You turn your head at the voice, seeing a man you don’t recognise and immediately you turn back and ignore him. God, you just want to be left alone.

Apparently, he doesn’t get the memo, as he comes to stand next to you “Come on, at least let me buy you a drink?”

Ugh this guy won’t quit. You turn to glance at him quickly, and curtly reply “No thanks, not interested.”

“It’s just a drink, you don’t have to be a bitch about it, c’mon.” His voice sends shivers down your spine as his tone turns slightly aggressive.

“No thank you, I’m fine.” You turn around to walk away, wanting to hide in the bathroom till he leaves the bar. As you walk in that direction, you look to the dancefloor and see everyone’s still there and make a note to go grab one of the girls to get a drink with you after. Just as you barely reach the door, a hand forcefully grabs your wrist.

“Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you, bitch” Your forced to look at the same guy from the bar. You try to take back your wrist, but his grip only tightens, making it harder for you to snatch it back.

“Let me go, asshole!” you try to take your wrist back again, but the attempt was in vain as he pulls you in closer. You can see the anger in his eyes, and it terrifies you. There’s no one near by that can help you, and everyone was all the way at the dancefloor. You begin to panic, eyes widening in fear as he moves to grab your other wrist. You struggle as he grabs a hold of you, his grip tight on your wrists and forces you closer to him.

Seeing no other option, you swing your leg upwards, as hard as you can, and kick him in the balls. He doubles over in pain, and you use this opportunity to take back your wrists and run towards the others. You can hear him grunt and mutter “You fucking bitch.” so you quicken your pace, diving into the crowd.

After shoving people out the way and constantly looking back to see if he followed you, you finally reach the group.

****

Your body is still in panic mode as you grab Sasha’s hand and pull her away, towards the backdoor of the club

“Y/n hey, what’s going on, are you ok?” You hear her ask as you walk quickly to the door. Pushing it open, you turn to Sasha, and immediately wrap your arms around her, shaking slightly.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong? Talk to me, what happened are you ok?” She instantly holds you tight, hands brushing your hair in a soothing manner. Feeling overwhelmed you slowly start to sob, everything crashing down on you at once.

“There… there was a guy at the bar and he… he kept asking if I wanted a drink and… and I said no but he, he wouldn’t listen. So I walked away to the bathroom, to hide till he left but… but he followed me and grabbed me and… and Sasha he looked so angry and I couldn’t.. I couldn’t think, I was so scared. I thought he was gonna hurt me so I.. I kicked him and ran to find you guys.” You continued to sob against her shoulder, still feeling overwhelmed.

You feel Sasha’s grip on you tighten, her soothing voice right by your ear “Hey, you’re ok now, I’ve got you. Don’t worry he can’t hurt you now, ok?” You nod against her, not daring to let go.

You stay in this position for a bit, Sasha still holing you and stroking your hair, constantly reminding you that you’re ok.

You take a deep breath in and out, moving back slightly to loo at Sasha. “Would you.. would you mind grabbing Jean for me? And tell him what happened? I wanna go home and I don’t wanna be alone right now. I would do it but I… I don’t wanna go back in.” You look at her with desperation and she quickly nods her head.

“Yeah of course, stay here, ok? I’ll be two minutes just stay here.” You nod back, offering her a tight smile. You knew Sasha wouldn’t be offended by you wanting Jean. Right now, you want to feel safe, and all you can think about is being wrapped up in his arms, which is the safest place you can think of.

She gives you one last hug, and goes back inside, the club music becoming louder as she opens the door. Sighing to yourself, you sit on the step in front of the door, collecting yourself. You bring your knees up to your chest and rest your forehead against them, looking down and close your eyes.

After a few minutes, you hear the door open and stand up and turn to see Jean, looking at you in concern.

“Hey, Sasha just filled me in, are you ok?” As he asks, he immediately wraps his arms around you, and you bring your arms tightly around his waist, head between his neck and his shoulder.

You shake your head and mumble “I just wanna go home.” You sniffle in the crook of his neck, and you feel his head move as he nods.

“Yeah of course doll, lets go get a cab.” Letting you go slightly, he comes to your side, arm still wrapped tightly over your shoulders, your arms both still holding onto his waist.

Jean continues to hold you tight in the taxi, his hand coming through your hair, just as Sasha had done, and kept whispering in your hair that you were ok.

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

You stumble into your apartment, taking your keys out and dropping them in the bowl on the side table. Jean closes the door behind you and turns you around by touching your shoulder.

“Why don’t you go take off your make up and get in comfy clothes? I’ll stay here and make you some tea.” He gives you a tight smile as you reach up and squeeze his hand resting on your shoulder. You make your way to the bathroom, closing the door behind you and stand in front of the mirror. You can see the tear stains on your face, mascara slightly running down your cheeks, but you couldn’t care less. You grab your make up remover and your face cloth and slowly take it off.

Feeling a weight being lifted, you make your way to your room, hearing Jean rummage about in the kitchen as you pass.

Shutting your bedroom door, you lean against it and sigh heavily. I just want to forget everything and curl in a ball. Rubbing your face and sniffling, you move off the door and head to your wardrobe. Picking out one of Jean’s sweatshirts and some pyjama pants, you quickly get dressed, putting your hair up after.

Climbing into your bed and hiding underneath the covers, you sigh and try to get comfortable. Just as you were about to give up, you hear a knock at your door. “You can come in.” Moving your head from underneath the covers, you see Jean open the door holding a cup of tea in your favourite mug.

“Hey, I’m gonna put this on your bedside table, ok?” Nodding your head, you shuffle over, making room for Jean to climb in. He places the mug on the coaster and then quickly discards his shirt and top, replacing his jeans for sweatpants he finds on your floor and lifts the covers to climb in. You shiver at the contact with the cold air. He lies on his back and opens his arms, encouraging you in. Instantly, you place you head on his chest, directly above his heart, and wrap your left arm around his waist. His own arm comes to hold you tight, the other coming to rest on the arm around him, fingers stroking you gently. For a moment you just lie there, the feeling of his arms around you grounding you.

“Sorry I dragged you out the club early, I know you were having a good time.” Just as you say this, Jean moves his head to look at you, lifting your chin so you have to look into his eyes.

“Don’t apologise, its ok. I would leave anywhere if you really wanted to so don’t go feeling guilty, ok? Anything for you.” Feeling tears well up again, you nod slightly. He really is the perfect man.

You continue to hold each other’s gaze. The silence between you was deafening as you look at him. Feeling overwhelmed with love, gratitude, and left-over anxiety, and possibly the alcohol still affecting you, you look at his lips and don’t even think twice before reaching up so that your lips met his in a soft, featherlight kiss.

As you draw back, you see Jeans eye’s blow wide. He gapes at you slightly, and whispers “Y/n… are you sure?”

You jot your head gently and look towards his lips again. This time, you have no hesitation as you slot your mouths together, the kiss ever so marginally deeper. Jean instantly responds, kissing you back, hand coming to rest at your nape. You move in unison, moaning softly as Jean breaks the kiss, only to dive in again, angling his head.

He flips you over, so you’re situated underneath him, one of his legs falling between yours, one arm resting next to you, the other cupping your cheek. You bring your hand to run your fingers through his hair, your other hand resting on his bare waist.

He continues to kiss you, his tongue meeting your lip in silent invitation. You open your mouth a smidgen, and his tongue slides in, stroking yours, causing you to moan louder than last time, your grip tightening in his hair, causing him to groan deeply. The hand that rested by your side came to your waist, slipping underneath the sweatshirt, stroking your skin. His touch was driving you crazy and you break contact with his lips, continuing the kisses across his cheek, down his neck, sucking and nibbling slightly at his sweet spot just below his jaw.

He groans at the contact, claiming your lips once more in a chaste kiss and he makes his way down, from the corner of your mouth, to your cheek, then your chin and finally to your neck. He sucks and bites at your neck, leaving a trail of marks further down, towards the top of your breasts. He doesn’t continue down, instead makes his way up again, lips meeting yours in another mind-boggling kiss.

He moves back, kissing you chastely once, twice, and then another final time, before lifting his head up, looking at you with eyes full of one thing you know all too well. Love.

“I don’t wanna go further just yet, you’re still pretty shaken, plus a little bit tipsy. I want our first time to be free of fear and clouded minds. I wanna take my time with you, learn every sweet spot, map every freckle, kiss every mark till you can’t take it anymore and worship every inch of you, Y/n.” As he listed off his desires, he kissed a different part of your face between each point.

Your blush deeps with every kiss and at every word but still you huff in frustration, his words only working you up more, but understanding his logic, you nod and kiss him again. “If it wasn’t clear by everything that’s just happened, I just want to say… I love you, Jean. Deeply, and truly.” You move your fingers out of his hair, to rest them on his nape.

You see him smile wider, showing off his teeth, then claiming your mouth one final time and whispering back “And I, Y/n L/n, am completely in love with you. Deeply and truly.”

Your smile widens and you kiss him again before he comes back down to lie down, his back against your mattress again. Snuggling into his chest, you sigh in contentment and feel him leave a kiss to the top of your head.

The last words you hear from him before you fall asleep, “I love you, Y/n. Always have, always will.” bring a small smile to your face, as you drift off, knowing that this was in fact reality.

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

Light from the sunrise pools through your window, a stream of light across your bed, highlighting the silhouettes underneath your covers.

Lying on your side, you can feel Jeans chest against your back, his deep breaths signalling that he’s still asleep. Did last night really happen? To think that after years of pining, Jean loved you back. Honestly, you feel like you’re still dreaming. The only thing that disrupts that dream was the event of last night. Honestly, you were still pretty shaken, and you know it will take time to heal, but you know that Jean will be there every step of the way.

Deep in your thoughts, you fail to notice as Jeans arm gets tighter around your waist, drawing you in closer. You snap back to reality when you feel featherlight kisses against your nape, each one moving closer and closer to your jaw. You hum slightly, letting the feeling sink in.

With his lips close to your ear, Jean whispers, “Mornin’ baby, how you feelin’?” and slowly turns you around so you’re facing him, arms curled up against his chest.

Nodding your head, you reply “I’ll be ok, I think. My head hurts but only a little and I think sleeping calmed me down a whole lot.” To reassure him, you lift your head up, pressing a small kiss on the corner of his lips, pulling back with a smile. “Can’t believe it took us so long to finally confess. We’re so stupid.”

Jean smiles back and releases a small chuckle, then lifts his left hand to cup your jaw, stroking his thumb against your cheek. “We’ve got all the time in the world now doll. This is just the beginning.”

As he whispers this, you smile gets wider and your cheeks grow red. All he has to do is say the simplest thing and it’s enough to drive you insane. It may have taken you a while to get to this point, but you know Jean’s right, you have the rest of your life to love him freely.

Lifting your chin up, you press a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling back, looking into his eyes. All you see in them is complete love and adoration and you can feel it sink in and melt you from the inside. You reach up again, this time kissing him a bit deeper and longer, his lips immediately responding to yours as his hand still cups your cheek. Jean angles his head to the side, allowing the kiss to deepen. When you feel his tongue against your lips, your response is instant, opening you mouth to let him in, causing you to moan at the sensation of his tongue meeting yours.

Rolling you over, so you lie on your back with Jean above, he nestles between your legs. His hand is still holding your face, the other resting on the bed next to you to provide him stability. You let your hands wander, one resting against his chest, the other settling against his bare waist. He breaks contact with your lips and before you can whine at the loss, his lips travel south, to your jaw and your neck. He kisses the marks left from last night, and you moan at the feeling, still sensitive there. Your reaction seems to be the one Jean was looking for, as you feel him attack your neck once more, biting and sucking all underneath your jaw and your sweet spot. Another moan leaves your lips, breathless and you bring your hand from his chest to rake through his hair, tugging and causing him to moan as well.

Satisfied that your neck was well and truly covered, he reaches up to press another kiss to your lips, then moving south again, but this time to your chest. He leaves wet kisses from your jaws to just above your breasts, then looks up at you in a silent question. Nodding your head, he sits back on his knees, lifting the edges of your sweatshirt up and brings you off the bed, just enough to fully take off the final barrier to your bare skin, chucking the article of clothing to the floor. He sits back for a minute, looking over you, taking in the sight he’s dreamt of for a while now.

Once he’s had his fill of looking at you, he’s pushing you back down and dives in, lips encapsulating your left nipple, sucking gently, one hand on your waist now with his right hand squeezing your right boob. It sends you crazy, another moan leaving your lips, louder than the last. Your breathing gets deeper, as Jean continues to attack your nipple, and then moves over to your right breast, repeating his motions of sucking and kissing.

“…Jean…Oh” You breathlessly moan, the sensation going right to your core. Arching your back, you roll your hips against his, the feeling of his hardening member against your hip causes you to moan again. With a few final kisses to your hardened peaks, his lips move to the space between your breasts, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake as he travels to your stomach. He kisses every mark, every freckle and mole, keeping to his promise from last night. Jean licks at your skin, bringing another moan from you, your hand coming to rest on his head again, fingers threading through his hair. He kisses your exposed hips, finger hooking underneath your pants, and looks to you again, asking once more with his eyes Is this ok?

“Jean… please. Keep.. keep going, I’m fine.” You almost feel embarrassed, practically begging for Jean to continue but all thoughts leave your head as you see Jean pull down your pants, taking them off fully, leaving you in your underwear. In your head, you thank past you for grooming yourself last night, and for wearing a cute thong. You look into Jeans eyes as he sits back and takes in your position, blush heavy on your cheeks, breaths deep and panting, bare skin against the cold air. His eyes are full of lust and hunger as he kisses you deeply on the lips, and then shuffles down the bed, head between your thighs.

Opening your legs for him to give him more access, he places kisses above your underwear, trailing his lips to your inner thigh. He stays there for a moment, sucking at the skin to leave marks. God, this sensation is completely different to your past experiences, the pleasure you’re experiencing only making you wetter, the heat you feel in your centre growing hotter.

Jean detaches from your thigh, his swollen lips now kissing your cunt above your thong, before moving it out the way with his fingers, and takes a long, wet swipe with his tongue between your folds. The moan you let out was much louder than the others, and you strain his name out as he continues to lap at your centre, tongue hitting just the right spots.

Just as quick as he was to dive in, he pulls back and you whine at the loss, and lift your head up to see what he was doing. Jean sits up slightly, removing your thong and tossing it to the floor, and goes straight for your clit. You fall back on the bed, arching your back, head thrown back as he sucks and licks everywhere. Jean knows exactly what he’s doing, as he laps at your cunt and clit, and without warning, plunges that tongue into your hole. Your hand comes to grip his hair again as you continue to moan, the other gripping the sheets.

He continues to plunge his tongue in and out, devouring your pussy, drinking your juices up. Focusing on your clit again, he brings his hand up the bed, a finger gracing your entrance before plunging a single digit into you. Your grip on his hair tightens, drawing a moan out of his mouth, the vibrations going straight to your bud. He continues to finger you, stretching you to allow for the second finger. His fingers inside you are driving you insane, moans leaving your mouth uncontrollably, his name coming out in gasps. He drives them in and out, scissoring them inside you, the coil inside you burning hotter and hotter.

“Jean… oh my god.. ah, ah… more, add more... please” You manage to get out, though it came out breathless. He complies, adding a third finger, stretching you beyond belief with his large fingers. He isn’t gentle as he pounds his digits into you, mouth still sucking and licking at your bud. “Jean.. ‘m close… please… don’t stop…ah!” You could feel the pressure increasing within you, coil just threatening to snap. He moans onto your centre, fingers still pounding you with the fast pace he’s set.

Lifting off you by a thread, he groans “Cum for me Y/n… you’re doing so well, cum for me.” With his words of praise hitting you, its enough to push you over the edge, and feel the white-hot heat snap and your mind blanks as you come on his fingers, moaning loudly. Your walls clench around his fingers, the high rolling through you like waves.

He doesn’t let up as you tip over the edge, his fingers leaving your body, only for his tongue to plunge into you again, drinking up your juices from your orgasm. He laps up every drop, the taste of you so sweet on his tongue. “You did so well for me baby, you’re so good. Can you give me another doll?” He looks up towards your face, lips glistening with your come as he licks it off, cheeks flushed a deep red.

Nodding your head with all the strength you can muster, you bring a hand to his neck, drawing him up towards you “Please… I want you so bad… please.” You bring his face close to yours again as he brings his body back to rest between your legs, hip just a fraction above yours. Drawing him in for a kiss, you can taste yourself on his lips and in his mouth, plunging your tongue in.

He moans as he moves back, hand cupping your face as he whispers, “Tell me what you want baby, tell me what you need.”

“I want you… I want you inside…I need you, Jean please.” You’re practically begging, and Jean nods his head, kissing you 1, 2, 3 times before moving back.

“Of course, y/n, anything for you baby, its all about you right now, ok?” You nod your head, and he kisses you again. You move a hand to his waist, fingers desperately clawing at his sweatpants in an attempt to take them off. He catches your hand, causing you to look at him in confusion. “Wait, doll, do you have condoms?”

Shaking your head, you reply, “No, but its ok, I’m on the pill. Plus, I wanna feel you, all of you.” The hunger in his eyes grows darker and deeper, lips crashing with yours. He removes his hand from your wrist as you both pull down his sweatpants, and he moves to fully take them off, discarding the with the rest of your clothes. As he moves back, you lift off the bed slightly, gaze coming to meet the tent of his erection in his boxers. Your eyes bulge a bit in realisation. Even from just looking at his cock through his underwear, you can see the outline of his huge member, easily reaching 8 inches, possibly more.

Eyes full of lust and deep yearning, you hastily lift up from the bed, hand coming to cup Jean’s cock through his underwear, rubbing it in fluid motions, bring a groan out of Jean. Reaching for the top of his boxers, you hastily pull the clothing down, his cock springing free at last. With Jean still on his knees, you use this opportunity to arch you back as you bend down, lips coming to his tip, pressing small kisses across it, taking his salty pre-cum as you lap at the tip. You hear Jean moan loudly as his hand comes to the top of your head, fingers threading through your hair in an attempt to ground him. You take the tip into your mouth, sucking it with no warning, Jeans grip on your hair getting tighter.

You bring you head up, lips popping as the head of his dick comes out, only for you to bring your hand up and jerk him slowly, spreading the wetness further down his length. With a deep breath, you take his cock in your mouth again, deeper this time, swirling your tongue to aid in making it slick. Bobbing your head, you suck and hollow out your cheeks, Jeans moans coming out breathless, his fingers in your hair holding on for dear life. You moan at the sensation, sending vibrations straight to Jean’s cock.

“God y/n, you suck cock so well… ‘s so good” His praise goes straight to your core, and you take him deeper, tip grazing the back of your throat. You’re amazed that despite his cock filling you, not all of him was surrounded by your hot, wet mouth. You hum as you suck again, tears prickling your eyes, but you hold down your gag reflex, determined to make him feel good. Looking up at him, you see his face scrunched up in pleasure, moans leaving his throat, and you feel his hips rock into your mouth. He looks down at you, eyes dark as he makes contact with yours.

Seemingly setting something off in him, he pushes your face back, a trail of saliva tracing from his tip to your lips, and he pushes you back onto the bed, coming to lay between your thighs again. His body lays a fraction above yours as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. Wrapping your arms around his neck, and your legs round his waist, you draw him closer. The motion causes his cock to graze your heat, drawing out a deep moan from the both of you. You pull back, gasping for air as Jean sits back on his knees, hands resting on your hips. He aligns his cock with your hole, hand coming to his mouth as he licks a long wet stripe up his palm, then reaching down to stroke himself and your folds.

Jean looks at you again “Are you sure, y/n?” With a hasty nod, you bring your hands to rest on his abs, one joining the hand he has on his cock, drawing his length closer to your heat.

“Jean please, I want you inside me so bad right now.” You gasp the words out, full of want, unable to hold back the plead in your voice. Squeezing your hip, he guides his cock to your entrance, tip inching in slowly. This feeling alone would be enough to push you over the edge. You moan at the contact, Jean inching in deeper, slowly letting you accommodate to his size.

“God, you’re so tight doll. Drivin’ me crazy” Jean groans out as he bottoms out, fully situated in your cunt. You’ve never felt so full in your life, his cock stretching you and filling you up so well, its left you speechless. All you can do is moan back, hands coming up your body, groping your own breasts, pinching your nipples to enhance your pleasure. Jean pulls out a bit as he rolls his hips and snaps back in, causing your eyes to widen, a moan caught in the back of your throat, breathing heavily. Taking that as a sign, he rolls his hips again, moving in and out of your centre, filling you up. Jean takes one of your hands in his, fingers threading through yours as he presses a kiss to the back of it, fucking into you deeper and deeper in a steady, fast paced rhythm. Moving your hips with his, you both moan together at the friction. He draws back further and further, the feeling of his cock slamming against your g-spot causing you to arch your back off the bed, eyes rolling back into your skull at the incredible sensation.

“Ahh Jean.. oh my god… de- deeper, please.” Your words come out in pleads, and Jean halts his movements as he shifts further down the bed, slotting himself between your legs and his hands resting by your head. In this new position, Jean is closer to you, chest to chest, so you take the opportunity to draw his lips to yours, tongues immediately clashing as you drink each other in.

Jean picks up the pace again, the new angle allowing his cock to ram into you harder, faster and you both groan at the feeling. Releasing your lips, he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“God, baby… I love you so much. So.. ahh so good for me.” You lift you head to push a desperate kiss to his lips, your moans swallowed by his tongue.

“Jean… I love you … Oh my God ‘m close… right there! Oh!” His hips snap against you hard, pounding his length against you in just the right place.

“Cum for me, Y/n… right now, cum for me baby” With a few more sharp thrusts into you, you feel the heat in your core snap as you came, breathy moans leaving your mouth as your walls clamp around him for the second time. He continues to pump into your heat, chasing his own release which isn’t far behind.

“Agh … ugghh” His movements falter as he spills his seed into you, and you can feel the heat of his cum filling you up. With panting breaths, he kisses your forehead before slowly pulling your cunt, lying on his back next to you.

You both lie there for a moment, taking in the fact that you’re probably just had the best sex of your life, and with the guy you’ve been in love with for what feels like a lifetime. You’re still lying there, absorbing the fact that that had just happened, when Jean peels himself of the bed to get a discarded towel of your floor, coming back up to the bed and cleaning you up.

“Jeez you look so good right now, doll. All fucked out with my cum leaking from you” you don’t even have to look at him to know he has a cocky smile on his face, and for that you reach behind you and throw a pillow at his face.

“Shut up and come back here, I wanna cuddle” With a chuckle, he shifts the covers, so they come over both of you once again, lying on his back and your head against his chest. His heart was still beating incredibly fast, and you imagine yours is the same. His hand comes to rest against your bare back, drawing small circles against it as you both lie there, taking in each other’s presence. The sunlight was now streaming directly across his chest, causing you to look out the window at the early sunrise.

Humming to yourself in contentment, you mutter against his chest “I want every sunrise to be like this, here with you.” You bring your head up and place your arm underneath you, so you’re hovering above Jeans face, a small smile gracing his lips.

Bringing his hand up to your cheek, he whispers back “Well in that case, I promise to always have every sunrise with you, come rain or clear skies. Every sunrise.”

Smiling widely, you press a small kiss to his lips and whisper against them “I love you Jean, always and forever”

He kisses you back, twice, before replying “And I love you, always and forever.”

fin

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

AN - Ahh thank you so much for reading! this was my first ever fanfic and i really hope you enjoyed it! please leave a like and comment it is always appreciated!! love A xx

#jean kirschstein x reader #jean #jean kirstein x reader #aot #attack on titan #Jean Kirschtein #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirstein imagine

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The Gang FINALLY sees how much of a BAMF Merlin is:

A smidge of Angst, but only because everyone is stupid :)

Part 4 of Merlin’s angry outburst. The Gang has ridden out (refusing to let Merlin and Arthur go alone) to a battlefield that will only have two bodies on display. One of them is Merlin’s.

This was meant to be the last bit but it was getting so long and I kept thinking of extra shit to put in soooooooo. Hopefully this is the penultimate part? But who knows lol.

TW: Lots of death (the final battle yo)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

They ride the whole first day in silence. Not even Gwaine has any jokes or stupid stories to tell, and the atmosphere is tense.

The time between Morgana rushing into the council meeting, and the group riding towards what looked to be Merlin's death, had blurred by. No one really had any time to think, but now, riding in silence, all they could focus on was the fact that they were knowingly heading to what could be Merlin’s demise.

No one concentrates on anything but urging their horses to travel as fast as possible, and Arthur shortly telling everyone to stop and make camp were the first words spoken for the whole journey.

No one replies, they just dismount their horses, and wordlessly go about clearing an area for the fire, laying out food, and checking the surrounding area for danger.

Merlin stalks off before anyone can stop him, intent on setting up some wards before anyone settles down. He’s clearly pissed, and Arthur shakes his head when Lancelot gives him a look, “Want me to go with him?” .

Arthur follows instead, trusting the others to set up properly whilst he and Merlin have a much needed private conversation.

It doesn't take too long to find him. He's noticed that, recently. Ever since the link was forged he always seems to be able to find Merlin first try. Before, he had to scour the whole castle to have a chance of finding his wayward manservant (and then his wayward Court Sorcerer), and even then sometimes he couldn't manage it.

It's comforting. In a way. Knowing that they'll always be able to find one another.

Arthur sees him in the trees ahead, facing away from him, his hands up in front of his body. He can hear him muttering something that Arthur doesn’t understand under his breath.

Years ago, Arthur would think that Merlin hadn't noticed him. But Arthur knows him better now. He knows the ever so slight hitch in his Sorcerer’s left shoulder means "I hear you. I see you. I know you're there." .

"You can't know that everything's going to be ok."

Merlin sighs and turns back to look at him, still visibly frustrated with everyone’s obvious fretting. Neither make any moves to walk closer:

"Course I can. I had a chat with Kilgharrah on the way here-"

(He taps his forehead as he says this)

"-no other Emrys-killing weapons have been made, and the only one anywhere near us, is yours. As long as you don’t stab me, I'll be fine."

Arthur huffs and shuffles his feet at this:

"Merlin, the vision. You weren't waking up and you heard what Morgana said. Why are you so intent to ride to what is almost certainly going to be your death, when our armies could win this battle anyway?"

Arthur is trying to sound firm, but his face gives him away. He was never all that good at hiding his true emotions when it was just him and Merlin, and his expression is sad and desperate.

It's only at that, that Merlin walks towards Arthur, putting his hands on his shoulders:

"That vision doesn't show everything. And yes, that may have been the clearest vision Morgana has had during this whole bloody war thing, but the future is still fluid. Nothing is set in stone. Arthur, I'll be fine. And besides, an all out battle means blood spilt, theirs and ours. If I can do anything to prevent that, then there is no choice, not for me."

The King clenches his jaw, before pulling Merlin into a tight hug. The Sorcerer let's out a surprised "oof" but grips back just as tightly, burying a hand in Arthur's hair.

Arthur speaks aloud this time, so quietly Merlin barely hears it even with Arthur's face in his neck. Perhaps thinking this is important enough that it has to be vocalised:

"Why have you got to be so bloody self sacrificial? I couldn't bear to lose you, Merlin. I need you with me, by my side."

Merlin smiles slightly at that, but doesn't let go:

"I'll always be with you. Nothing in this life or the next, could pull me away from you. I...-"

He hesitates here, but Arthur tightens his grip, and he takes a deep breath before continuing:

"-...this is where I belong. Right here, right now. With you."

Arthur squeezes him once again and pulls back, gently laying his forehead against Merlin's, very reminiscent of the spell cast all those weeks ago.

The both of them keep their eyes closed, even as Arthur speaks:

"We're having a conversation about... this, when we get back. We're ALSO having a conversation about your self sacrificial tendencies."

Merlin laughs and pulls back at that:

“Only if we have a conversation about yours first.”

The King rolls his eyes fondly, and turns to walk back, but pauses momentarily, without looking back:

“I may not understand your magical mutterings, but I know that you’ve finished setting the wards up. Are you going to come back? Or are you going to come up with another excuse for you to watch me leave so you can stare at my arse?”

Merlin flushes at that, and lets out a mumbled “Shut up.” before speed walking past a laughing Arthur, towards camp.

The whole group seems to relax once they realise that the tension between Merlin and Arthur had been resolved (or at least... changed. A different type of tension. The type that made Leon want to lay their bedrolls on opposite sides of the camp).

The evening passes quietly, nothing of note happening, and soon enough, everyone is asleep.

The next few days aren’t quite as tense, but they still hurry their horses, taking few breaks. It was wordlessly agreed that they wanted to get there as quickly as possible, so that they might have time to assess the situation properly.

Everyone was still understandably worried, but with Merlin being so relaxed, and Arthur seeming ok (ish) with what was happening, they kept their anxieties to themselves.

It’s the second night they stop to make camp, that Gwaine informs them that if they keep the same pace and get up early, they should be there just before noon the next day.

Everyone is a little tense at that, but Merlin speaks first:

“I’d say the rain isn’t going to hit until noon. If we move quickly, we should have at least a little time to plan..”

The group once again relaxes at that, grateful that they would at least have time to think things through, and check the surrounding area, before anything happened.

The relaxed atmosphere doesn’t last long, however. When they’d first stopped to make camp (that was around three hours ago now) Morgana had sat straight down, out of the way, and began to meditate. Without warning, she opens her eyes with a flash of gold, and lets a tear slip down her cheek before looking to Merlin.

He furrows his brows, and begins to speak before she can say anything:

“Morgana? What did you see?”

She lets out a humourless laugh, drawing even more worried attention from the group, before she replies:

“I’ve been trying to look past tomorrow. The near future, the far future, anything. Anything that might clue us in to the outcome. You know what I see?-”

Everyone is staring at her, clearly anxious, but she doesn’t take her eyes off Merlin, not even when Gwen places a gentle hand on her shoulder:

“-I see your mother and Gaius, quietly crying. I see Arthur, with a golden crown on his head, and a silver crown in his hands. I see a tombstone, with a name I can’t quite make out. I see your chambers, empty and cold, unlived in and covered in dust. I see... I see us. All nine of us that is, sat around our table. But one of the seats is empty, your seat. And all of us look... blank. That, is what I see, Merlin. And through all of it, I can feel your absence like a flame on my skin. I can see past tomorrow with ease. But I can’t see you.”

Morgana looks devastated. Everyone else in the group looking various mixes of shocked, scared, heartbroken.

Merlin nods slightly, and frowns staring into his lap. He was so certain that... logically, he should be fine. He’s died before and been fine. But Morgana’s visions are rarely that inaccurate, and if she’s stopped seeing his future entirely... well. It wasn’t a good sign.

He hums thoughtfully, before wiping the expression off his face and looking up determinedly:

“That changes nothing. I either do this, and everyone bar me survives, though I still think I’ll be fine, or we ignore your visions entirely, ride back to Camelot, and risk the life of every single one of Camelot’s citizens. And that’s not an option, so we’re just going to have to see what happens.”

Everyone opens their mouth to protest at the same time, but before any of them can make even a sound, Merlin jumps up, and speaks again. His voice is sharp, and invites no argument:

“NO. I said it’s not an option. This is what I do. I always used to hate the idea of a pre-written destiny, but if I’m meant to die tomorrow, then fine. So be it. I will NOT put my own life above anyone else’s. Especially not a whole kingdom’s, and ESPECIALLY not any of yours.”

He breathes deeply, and after giving a short glare to everyone individually, he sits down again.

He’s seated between Arthur (who had barely left his side) and Percival, who takes the Sorcerer’s hand in his own, holding it in his lap.

Merlin smiles at him as he attempts to pull his hand back:

“I’m fine Perc, I don’t need comforting. I always figured I would end up dying before you lot anyway-”

Everyone shuffles uncomfortably at that. No one likes to think about outliving one of their closest friends:

“-not that I think I’m gonna stay dead anyway. But that’s not the point.”

Percival holds onto Merlin’s hand tightly, but stares into the fire as he replies quietly:

“This isn’t comfort for you, Merlin. It’s comfort for me.”

Merlin seems taken aback at this, like he had only just considered that his friends might need comforting in the first place. He forgets sometimes (read: most of the time) , that he is as important to these people, as they are to him. He can’t imagine willingly going to any of their deaths, not without putting up one hell of a fight.

He nods, after he wipes the shock from his face, and settles his hand in Percival’s, instead of trying to pull away:

“I’m sorry. I know this can’t be easy for any of you-”

(as he speaks, he lets his other hand subtly gather up the fabric of Arthur’s cloak, for his own sake or Arthur’s, he’s not sure)

“-but I need you to trust me. Believe me, I’m not trying to get myself killed permanently... I mean dying even temporarily isn’t exactly fun but... you know. I’ll be fine.”

It’s Gaius that replies first. The others were especially worried about the physician, he was practically Merlin’s father at this point, and none of them thought they could cope with having to comfort the man if they lost Merlin.

“It’s not that we don’t trust you, Merlin. We’re just... worried. And it’s not like you’re well known for considering your own safety when it comes to planning for any sort of conflict.”

Merlin looks as if he’s going to protest, but Gwen beats him to the punch:

“Don’t argue Merlin. You can’t deny that you have a habit of jumping head first into the fray.” She says it with a small smile, but it’s weak, and Merlin suddenly feels guilty for all those times he’s worried his friends.

He threw himself into situations he was sure he would be able to survive, without considering the fact that none of the people he cared about had the same assurances.

His reply makes everyone chuckle

“Yeah, well. You know me. I’ve never been much of a planner.-”

The Sorcerer squeezes Percival’s hand once more, before continuing:

“-But it’s late, and if we want to get up early we should head to sleep.”

The group nods in agreement, and all begin to shuffle to their bedrolls, having hushed individual conversations as Arthur declares that he and Merlin would take the first watch.

(No one questions it. They rarely set watches nowadays, Merlin’s wards have become incredibly reliable over the years, but all of them understand that The King and The Sorcerer need this time.)

Other than Merlin and Arthur, Percival was the last to leave his seat, ruffling Merlin’s hair as he gives him a weak smile, before making his way to his roll to undoubtedly toss and turn through the night, like everyone else.

The King and The Sorcerer didn’t move from their spots next to each other, and, at some point during the conversation, Arthur had replaced the clutched fabric of his cloak with his own hand.

They stay silent for a while, not really knowing what to say. Despite everyone’s worries, the rest of the group is asleep after not too long. It had been two days of hard travel and sleeping rough, and no one would admit it but they were all exhausted.

Both of them seem to realise that there was little chance of them getting to have those conversations at a later date. The two of them struggled individually on what would be worse: forcing the conversation now before it was too late but knowing that might be the end of it, or leaving everything unsaid and leaving Arthur with the regret.

Merlin was inclined to leave it unsaid. As far as he was concerned, he would still be fine (though he was now unsure if he was right, or if he was just in denial).

Arthur wanted to get it off his chest. He may be a tad emotionally constipated, but Merlin is... well... Merlin. It took him a while to realise his feelings for Merlin, but once he did, it was like an unending avalanche.

On some level, Arthur knew that Merlin felt the same, but would it be cruel? Or distracting? For him to voice it now, before everything?

He remembers saying weeks ago “We’ve plenty of time before things kick off” . But that time had passed. It had flown by. Arthur thought he would have forever with Merlin, even when the war was declared he wasn’t worried. But suddenly there was no more time. He might lose him tomorrow.

Did he want to taint what few hours they had left with an emotional confession that could wreck them both? Or should he leave it, steadfast in the belief that Merlin knew. Which would be crueller?

In the end, Arthur decided that he wouldn’t be able to live with it: the doubt, the regret, if he never said anything, and... something... happened.

He grips Merlin’s hand tighter in his own, and swallows, but before he could say anything:

“I know.” Merlin doesn’t look at him when he thinks it, but squeezes The King’s hand in return.

“No, I... you have to let me... I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t, so just-”

Merlin does look at him then, and gives him a gentle smile to stop him rambling:

“Ok, Arthur. I’m here, I’m listening, I hear you.”

Arthur meets his gaze, a steady stream of tears down his face that causes Merlin to frown slightly:

“I... Merlin-”

Arthur struggles with the words, thinking back, he can’t remember a time he’s actually said them out loud. Ever.

He clears his throat, straightens his back, and steels his eyes. Merlin deserved the truth. And Merlin felt the same, he had never been more sure of anything:

“Merlin, I love you. And if you don’t come back to me at the end of tomorrow, I will never forgive you.”

His resolve cracks slightly at the end, but Merlin smiles at him fondly, teary eyed himself:

“I love you too. And I already told you, Arthur, I will always come back to you.”

Arthur grips Merlin’s hand tighter, and buries his head in the Sorcerer’s neck. Merlin wrapped his arms around him, and leans back against the log they were sitting against.

They fall asleep like that, the two of them wrapped in Arthur’s cloak. At some point during the night, Arthur’s head had slipped down onto Merlin’s chest, but neither moved. If anything, Arthur found he could sleep easier with Merlin’s steady heartbeat in his ears.

The Gang woke when it was still dark, but not in the way they had planned.

They all wake with a start, automatically pulling out swords and summoning weapons, before they realise that the blizzard like wind and deafening roar, was just Kilgharrah, landing on the edge of their camp.

They settle for only a moment, before they realise that Merlin hadn’t summoned him, which meant he turned up of his own volition, and that meant he brought news. And knowing Kilgharrah, it probably wasn’t good news.

Merlin approaches him quickly, a frown on his face and Arthur close behind him:

“What is it Kilgharrah, is Camelot ok?”

The Dragon lowered his head to meet Merlin’s worried stare before replying:

“Yes, the city is safe, young Warlock. I have left Aithusa to watch over it whilst I tracked you here. The army you face is in front of you, not behind you.”

Morgana speaks up quickly after that, a frown on her face:

“What army? I haven’t foreseen any big battles in a while, believe me, I’ve been looking. The only people that should be in that meadow, is us, and whoever... and one other man.”

Kilgharrah looks over the group slowly before looking back at Merlin and replying:

“It appears, Emrys, that you will finally get a chance to show off the extent of your power. An army is waiting for you, in that meadow, and you are the only one with the capacity to defeat them.”

Merlin takes a deep breath, and clenches his hands (one of which is quickly taken by Arthur. Another example of neither of them knowing which of them the action was meant to comfort):

“I don’t know if I’m that powerful Kilgharrah, I’ve never-”

“The only reason you do not know the breadth of your power, is because you’ve never before come even close to your limits.”

“But I-”

“Your magic is tied to nature, Emrys. Use it. Bend it to your will. The entirety of the world will move at your whim, you need only ask-”

Before Merlin can reply, or ask what the hell that means, Kilgharrah lifts his head suddenly, as if hearing something, and looks briefly to Merlin once more as he replies, before flying off:

“Have faith, young Warlock, in yourself and in destiny. I must leave you now.”

Everyone stands still, not quite in shock, but definitely confused, all bar Merlin, who just looks annoyed:

“Fucking typical. What’s the use of being a Dragon Lord if my giant pet lizard is going to be so bloody cryptic all the time.” is mumbled by the Warlock, as he looks towards the sun, just about rising over the horizon.

He sighs once more, before:

“Come on then. I suppose that was a good a wake up call as any. We should pack up and get going if we want to get a look at this army.-”

The next bit is mumbled to himself as he lets go of Arthur’s hand and wanders off to dismantle the wards:

“-And I suppose I now have half a day’s journey to figure out to beat it. That’s just great.”

It only takes a moment before the group launches into action, now freshly tense at the revelation that there was an army, and there was only ten of them.

They had faith in Merlin, and Morgana was there as well. And if everything really went to shit, there could be two dragons there to lend a helping hand (or claw) as well. But still. An army. That was big.

They’re riding out on the last leg of the journey within an hour, everyone having regained the tenseness that they had on the first day. Though all of them are slightly comforted by the fact that Kilgharrah hadn’t mentioned Merlin dying. He may be a cryptic bastard, but that definitely seemed like something he would bring up.

Gwaine’s directions and timings were accurate, they reached the edge of the seemingly empty meadow around half an hour before the sun hit the centre of the sky.

They remain hidden in the trees, Merlin casting a quick enchantment to shield them from being detected, before looking to Morgana and nodding.

The two of them close their eyes and stretch their arms forward, towards the meadow. A few mutterings and tilted heads later, they open their eyes. Merlin looking grim, but determined, and Morgana looking scared.

Lancelot is the first to speak:

“What is it, what’ve they go out there?”

Merlin looks at him briefly, before darkly saying:

“Why don’t I show you?”

With that, he once more raises his arm towards the meadow. His eyes glow brightly and he speaks quietly, other hand clenched at his side.

After a few moments, tendrils of light extend from his fingertips, and snake out around the perimeter of the meadow. Once the meadow is surrounded, Merlin twists his wrist sharply, and the tendrils turn inwards, shooting towards the centre point. After only a few metres they seem to meet an invisible barrier, and explode upwards towards the sky.

The light is blinding enough to force the gang to all shield their eyes, but they quickly open again when they hear an uproarious cacophony of noise.

What they see, is a huge army gathered at the far end of the field, packing up camp and preparing to move off, in the direction of Camelot.

It takes only a moment before a voice rings out above the noise, coming from somewhere around the edges:

“THE BARRIER IS DOWN!! WE CAN BE SEEN!”

A voice answers back, shouting for everyone to be prepared, that they would be noticed soon, and that the fight was coming to them.

Arthur furrowed his brow before quietly:

“That was their King, I recognise his voice. He must have sorcerers with him to keep the barrier going.”

Leon answers first:

“This is why our scouts haven’t seen anything, there’s been nothing to see.”

Merlin once again begins muttering to himself, drawing everyone’s attention to him (and also reminding them that apparently, Merlin had the power to take out the whole army) :

“Well, at least it’s smaller than I was expecting, underestimating us apparently. Sorcerers could be a problem though. Hmm.”

Morgana speaks up:

“I feel three. powerful, but not really fighters. They’re here for the barrier, and they don’t seem particularly happy about it either-”

She looks towards Merlin, face serious:

“-If you make it clear who you are... they might join us.”

Merlin hums thoughtfully, before replying:

“Depends entirely on if their fear of me outweighs their fear of him.”

The Gang looks taken aback at the mention of fearing Merlin. Elyan quietly saying:

“Why would they fear you? I know that you’re Emrys and everything, but I thought it was a Druid peace-keeping sort of thing you had going?”

Merlin looks back at the group, anger on his face, as he responds darkly:

“They’re threatening Camelot, her people, her King. I’m very much pissed off right now, of course they should be scared of me.”

Before he has time to say anything else, they notice that the army is about ready to move out, and Arthur gestures everyone to quickly get back and hide as he rushes towards Merlin:

“Merls! Ok... so, in the vision, the field was already empty when it started raining, and we have maybe 15 minutes at most before then, so what happens? Whatever we do, we need to do it now, they’re about to leave. Or maybe the field was empty because we let them go?”

Merlin responds quickly:

“No, we didn’t see the whole field in the vision remember, and this half is empty-”

He thinks for a moment, and Arthur looks towards the army, before looking back at the others, and then finally settling his eyes on Merlin once more:

“-Put your crown on, you and me are going to march across there, and they need to know who we are. The others will stay here, out of sight.”

Arthur looks worried, and put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder:

“You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

Merlin smiles back at him:

“Nah, figured I’d just wing in. Come on, I’m Emrys. I got this in the bag.”

Arthur frowns as Merlin chuckles, before grabbing his crown from his saddlebag. The others looks to him questioningly, but he just shakes his head, and gestures for them to stay hidden. They don’t look too pleased at that, but they follow his orders, and hide themselves and the horses among the bushes.

The King and the Sorcerer take a deep breath, before looking at each other and nodding firmly. They march out from their hiding spot amongst the trees, and make a beeline for the army, walking confidently.

Merlin made sure to walk just a step behind Arthur, and it takes only a few seconds for a lookout to spot them and yell.

The two of them stop in the middle of the empty space as the whole army looks towards them, their King stepping forward:

“Ah! King Arthur-”

The way he says King, like it disgusts him, like Arthur doesn’t deserve the title, has Merlin fuming, but he doesn’t step forward just yet.

“-It would seem that you have bought your druid pet, to beat my army. I WILL SEE YOUR HEADS ON SPIKES!”

Spittle flies from his red face as he screams the last part, and Merlin sees the way Arthur clenches his hand. Before his... friend? (can he say that after last night?) can reply in anger:

“Introduce me, and then go back to the others. I’ll be fine, he’s clearly underestimated me.”

Arthur’s back straightens, and he leaves his face blank as he shouts his reply to the angered King:

“You clearly underestimate us. This-”

(he gestures absentmindedly to Merlin, who steps forward and allows his eyes to begin glowing.)

“-is Emrys. He will make quick work of your... army.”

Neither of them pay attention to his reply as they look at each other. The glow fades from Merlin’s eyes as he puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder:

“Trust me, go back to the others and I’ll take care of it. All of nature is at my fingertips, apparently. Go, I love you.”

Arthur clenches his jaw and nods, before turning and walking back to the others, smiling to himself as he notices the almost transparent shield that had formed around him as he walked.

Merlin takes a few steps towards the army (which is getting louder and louder as the King makes his way through the ranks, shouting encouragement and rallying them) before stopping in place and frowning.

Unless he wants to cause issues with time, he should probably keep it as similar to the vision as he can. He looks to the side, the same place he had seen himself look four days ago, and speaks:

“ I’m sorry. But it’s coming. I can’t stop it, I tried. This is the only way. Just... relax... it’ll hurt less. Four days.”

He narrows his eyes and focuses, and he can just about make out a hazy mirror image of himself stood a few feet away:

“Arthur loves you... me..... us. Don’t let him down.”

The image fades as he takes a deep breath, and continues his march towards the army.

There’s a clap of thunder, and suddenly the skies open, Merlin frowns to himself as he mutters:

“Oh for fucks sake, why am I always right?”

The army begins their sprint towards him, and Merlin stops his quick pace, planting his feet, and raising his hands to the sky. The Sorcerer figures that there’s already a storm, and a storm is part of nature, right? He might as well take advantage.

The golden glow from his eyes is almost blinding as his brings his hands down quickly, palms facing the floor. Lightening strikes the ground with a flash and a few hundred of the men at the forefront of the army fall to not rise again.

Merlin grunts as he realises he’s going to have to try a lot harder if he’s to succeed in taking out the 12,000 angry arseholes running at him.

He continues aiming lightening at the fastest knights, nearest the front, taking out groups of them at a time.

He feels another magical presence, and he glances to the side to see a young woman at the edge of the meadow, clothes in tatters and feet bare. She meets his gaze and nods, before looking to the army and shouting a spell. The ground shakes slightly and a large chunk of the army falls into cracks into the ground.

Those his lightening had not touched finally come within reach of Merlin, and he has to jump back as swords reach for his neck. He swings one of his arms in a wide arc, and a burst of blue fire elevates the war cries around him, into screeches of agony.

He has to banish dark thoughts as the stench of burnt flesh reaches his nose, and he swings his arm wide once more, the same again.

Now with a little more space to move, though with little time before he’s crowded again, he kneels, and slams closed fists down into the mud.

The moment his skin touches the ground, the whole meadow shakes, much more than it had previously, and the whole army stumbles and falls.

There is a moment of silence and calm once the shaking stops, everyone trying to regain their bearings, but it doesn’t last long, as the ground opens. Sinkholes and cracks expand all across the meadow, thousands of men screaming as they fall into unknown depths, or drown in mud.

Merlin stares out in wonder as he realises he hasn’t said a word since the battle began. He had used no spells, the world around him simply understood what he wanted, and obeyed his orders. Nature bending to his whim indeed.

His thoughts last only a minute before he forces himself to concentrate once more. He can feel the three other sorcerers trying to protect themselves, and prevent anyone from escaping. Looks like Morgana was right. Though they were exhausted from holding the barrier in place, and even if they hadn’t been, even combined, their power was nothing compared to Merlin’s.

He pulls his arms from the ground, palms facing towards the sky (which is still pouring). As he does, every crater, every pit, closes with a snap, the field seeming suddenly much emptier as half the army, and all the previous bodies, disappear into the mud.

Only a thousand or so men remain, and, ignoring their cowardly King’s shouts (he was hidden somewhere to the right of Merlin, out of his sight. Hmmm. He would have to take care of that later.) they try to scatter into the woods surrounding the meadow.

Merlin closes his hands to fists. Vines and roots burst from the ground, all sharp thorns and gnarled wood as they speed towards the fleeing soldiers.

The screams grow louder once more as all but a few of the knights are pierced, and wrapped, and dragged towards their muddy places of burial.

Merlin stands once more, and tilts his head towards the trees with a silent request.

He smirks as the sounds of wolves reach his ears, howling and growling and rabid through the trees. That’ll do it. No one would be able to outrun them.

The battlefield lay empty. The bodies having been swallowed by the earth, or still running around piss scared in the woods.

Merlin turns towards the sorcerers standing twenty metres away, meaning to promise them safety and amnesty in Camelot, because of their immediate willingness to help, but before he can say anything, he sees their eyes widen as they look behind him in horror.

He gasps in realisation, and goes to turn and defend himself, but before he can, he staggers suddenly forward as he feels a bursting pain in his spine and spread through his chest. He looks down to see the front of a sword poking out from where his heart should be.

With his last few seconds of lucidity he jerkily waves his hand behind him and feels the King (”How could I have fucking forgotten about him? I was thinking about him literally 3 minutes ago??”) stumble back a few steps, leaving the sword behind.

Merlin falls to his knees, still staring at the end of the blade, blood dripping from his mouth as he hears an agonised yell from across the meadow.

He finally falls completely, his face angled towards the floor and his eyes fluttering as he hears a metallic *swoosh* and a *gargle* and a *thump* behind him, before Arthur falls to his knees at his back.

The last thing Merlin remembers, is hearing Arthur muttering something or other as he gets pulled towards him, but by the time his eyes look to the sky, his mind, and face, are blank.

THIS IS COMPLETED, PART 5 (link at the top, and in the masterlist) IS THE FINAL PART!

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular :)

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contemplativepancakes · 4 years ago

Text

yarn rants with dandelion

3.5k of Geralt poorly hiding the fact that he knits from his family and, in general, being an idiot, read here on AO3

Geralt slams his laptop shut as his apartment door swings open, causing Eskel to quirk an eyebrow. “Whatcha doin’?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Geralt says in a rush.

“Uh huh.” Eskel raises his hands. “Can’t be any weirder than the porn Lambert watches.”

Geralt grunts, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

Eskel glances at his watch. “I figured you might want help before the game.”

“I’m ordering pizza,” Geralt says. “Actually, do you want to do it? I have cleaning I still need to do before everyone else gets here.”

Eskel’s eyebrows climb higher on his forehead, and Geralt starts to sweat as he sees Eskel's skepticism. Geralt always makes a spread on game day, telling everyone he’s not going to wait two hours for delivery while they’ll be so busy.

“Um. Okay.” Eskel stares at him for a beat before finally pulling out his phone. “What am I ordering?”

Geralt shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

He goes to his room, shutting the door behind him and hearing Eskel’s voice as he talks to the pizza place. Geralt looks to his bed, where a half finished baby blanket is laid out, before hastily gathering it and its attached ball of yarn up and stuffing them in a basket, piled high with various colors and weights. He throws some dirty clothes from his floor on top for good measure before reemerging from his bedroom, Eskel looking at him suspiciously from his spot on the couch.

“Sure you don’t need help with anything?” Eskel asks.

“No, I’m, uh, I’m good.” Geralt goes to the fridge and pulls out two beers, passing one to Eskel and keeping one for himself.

Thankfully, Eskel doesn’t say anything about his odd behavior, just watches the pregame show with him without comment until Letho arrives, followed shortly after by Lambert and Aiden. Geralt’s relieved, because then Eskel’s attention goes to their ridiculous dancing around each other instead of scrutinizing Geralt.

After everyone has left for the night, Geralt pulls his laptop back out, settling it on the coffee table in front of him and goes to get his blanket. He spreads it across his lap as he clicks play, the sound of a cheerful voice filling his living room.

“Hey, guys! It’s Dandelion, back with my latest yarn haul! I’ve got some awesome ones, and ones you should avoid at all costs, so watch and see which is which!”

Geralt lets himself stare for a second before he jerks himself out of the trance and looks back down while his needles click together as he starts to knit.

Geralt lets the feeling of the yarn between his fingers soothe him. That’s why he watches these yarn reviews, after all. He hates going to the store for yarn, but he hates wasting his money on yarn that’s scratchy and uncomfortable against his skin even more.

Needless to say, he’s grateful to Dandelion for doing all the prep work for him, and he may or may not have developed a crush on the man. Who watches these videos and hasn’t? Geralt reasons.

Dandelion has an infectious enthusiasm, and Geralt can’t help the soft smile from spreading across his face as he listens.

Geralt keeps knitting until his skein is almost out. When he has less of a ball and more of a tangle left, he casts his eyes around for the next one before looking despairingly back at his blanket when he doesn’t find it.

Fuck.

He knew he should have ordered extra; he always does this to himself, but somehow he never learns. He groans as he pulls his computer onto his lap and opens up the website he orders his yarn from. He goes into his history and clicks on the link to his blanket yarn. It’s teal, velvety, and Geralt can’t stop running his fingers over it. When the page finally loads, out of stock blinks back at him.

Double fuck.

He’s never made a blanket before, and he’s drastically underestimated how much it would take. He’s going to need at least three more skeins. Yen’s baby shower is in a month and a half, and there’s no telling when the yarn is going to come back in stock. What if they discontinued it?

There’s nothing for it; he’s going to have to go into the store. He looks at the clock. First thing tomorrow, he decides, before it gets busy. He’ll go right when they open, before the store gets noisy and filled with women who always try to draw him into conversation for some reason.

Geralt huffs at the thought.

Geralt tugs his scarf a little tighter against his neck before he gets out of the car and heads into the store. There’s only four cars in the parking lot, so Geralt hopes he’ll be able to get in and out quickly.

Once he’s inside, he makes a beeline for the yarn aisle, trying to hold in his noise of dismay when he sees someone already standing there. Geralt avoids eye contact and feigns interest in the brightly colored acrylic yarns at the end of the aisle. The person is right in front of the baby yarn section, and Geralt tries not to tap his foot.

Just when Geralt is getting ready to pretend to browse other aisles while he waits, there’s movement behind him. “Lovely scarf,” a man’s voice says. “Looks very soft.”

Geralt turns around, only for his eyes to widen as he comes face to face with Dandelion.

He’s sure something very intelligent sounding comes out of his mouth, but he doesn’t register it.

Whatever it was makes Dandelion laugh, sounding familiar and alarmingly close when they’re not separated by a screen. Geralt glances down at Dandelion’s basket to see it piled high with yarn.

“Nice colors you have there,” Geralt finally manages.

Dandelion beams. “Thank you!”

Geralt takes a closer look and realizes they’re rainbow colors. He heaves a tiny sigh. He’s a disaster. Does Dandelion think he’s flirting with him? Not that Geralt doesn’t want to be, per se, but—it’s complicated.

“Did you make your scarf yourself? Or did a boyfriend make it for you?” Dandelion asks.

“I made it myself,” Geralt mumbles. He’s not sure whether he’s relieved by this line of questioning or not.

“Oh?”

“No boyfriend.”

Dandelion turns another smile on him, and Geralt tries not to melt. “What are you shopping for?”

“Oh. Um. A blanket.”

Dandelion turns back towards the shelves with a critical eye before he plucks out a chunky bright yellow and holds it out to Geralt for his inspection. Geralt runs his fingers over it absently. “Feels nice.”

“Right? I love this brand. How big of a blanket are you making?”

“It’s for a baby.”

Dandelion’s eyebrow arches in question.

“My friend is adopting soon; I thought this would be nice,” Geralt says, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Dandelion shifts his basket from one hand to the other. “Oh, my. That is very nice.”

Geralt grumbles as he piles more yarn than can surely be reasonable into his own basket while Dandelion eyes the shelf thoughtfully.

Geralt finishes putting the yarn into his basket and goes to leave the aisle, but Dandelion stops him before he takes more than three steps.

“Better get more than you think. I get what I expect to use, and then add 25 percent more.”

That makes Geralt crack a smile. “That makes an expensive hobby even worse.”

Dandelion shrugs. “The curse of being a creative.”

Geralt picks two more bundles from the shelf. “I suppose you’re right.”

Dandelion clears his throat. “Hey, what’s your name?”

Geralt answers, and Dandelion looks him up and down. “Would you like to join our yarn circle?”

“What?” Geralt asks, throat dry.

Dandelion shakes his head glumly. “Nevermind. It’s just there are so few men…”

“I’ll join,” Geralt says, before he fully thinks out his words.

Dandelion brightens instantly. “Excellent!”

Dandelion follows him to the register, chattering the whole way, and by the time Geralt leaves the store, Dandelion has his number saved in his phone. Geralt can’t help but notice how the women are leaving him alone today, just shooting him the occasional baleful look. It’s a nice change of pace. Maybe he should run into Dandelion more often.

“I’ll text you, okay?” Dandelion says after he’s walked with Geralt to his car.

“Um, yeah, okay,” Geralt replies.

He slides into his car and watches Dandelion walk to a bright yellow slug bug. He quirks a grin. It fits him. Geralt’s just turned the key in his ignition when he realizes he didn’t even get the yarn that he came for. He sighs and shuts the engine off.

If he reemerges from the store with the yarn for the rest of his blanket in addition to two skeins of blue that remind him of Dandelion’s eyes, well, that’d be creepy, and it’s nobody’s business but his, anyway.

Geralt looks down at his phone. yarn circle at that coffee place on Main tomorrow at ten! you in?

He saves the contact in his phone, debating with himself before typing Dandelion 🌼.

He puffs a breath through his lips. He shouldn’t be this worked up about a text.

See you then , he types, and goes back to make the s lowercase.

“Who are you texting?” Eskel asks from his spot on the couch, setting down his own phone.

“Who are you texting?” Geralt retorts weakly.

Eskel looks at him, unimpressed. “My girlfriend, dude. Did you finally get yourself one? You know, it’s kind of weird Yen’s replacing you with a baby…”

Geralt grits his teeth. “She’s not replacing me. We just had conflicting goals for the future.”

“And what, pray tell, are these goals?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not kids. I’d be a terrible dad.”

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s a conversation they’ve hashed out many times before. “Hmm,” Eskel says pointedly, and Geralt gives him an eye roll right back.

“Are we watching this movie or not?”

Eskel mumbles something too low for Geralt to hear.

The next morning dawns bright and early. Too early for Geralt to reasonably head out to the coffee shop by the time he’s ready, so he takes the time to work on the blanket. He’s inching closer to being done, and he’s looking forward to starting something with the yellow yarn, but he’s not quite sure what he wants to make yet.

He wonders if he’s supposed to take his blanket to this yarn circle. Do they knit? Or just talk about it? What if they gossip the whole time? Geralt doesn’t have anything juicy to contribute; he doubts they want to hear about Eskel’s latest problems with his goat yoga business. Giving customers ringworm probably isn’t the best breakfast conversation. He takes in a deep breath, trying to stop the panic spiral.

It’s fine. It’s going to be fine.

It’s not fine.

When he walks in, Dandelion is already sitting at a table, wearing a floral button down that has entirely too many buttons undone to be decent. Geralt tries not to imagine what Dandelion’s chest hair would feel like under his finger tips, if it would be coarse and wiry or smooth and silky.

Geralt shakes his head and grunts a greeting when Dandelion waves him over.

“Hello, hello! Find the place okay?”

“No issues,” Geralt says, pulling out a chair and settling his bag with his knitting awkwardly on the ground.

Dandelion glances down at his phone, and whatever he sees makes his face tighten.

“Hmm, looks like the rest of the circle isn’t going to be able to make it. Flat tire.”

Geralt arches an eyebrow at him. “Do they...need help? I could go change it.”

Dandelion mutters something to himself before looking back up at Geralt. “I think they already have that covered.”

Geralt laughs and rubs a hand on his neck. “You know, I’m going to start thinking you were just trying to get me alone.”

Dandelion returns the nervous laugh and warms his hands on his mug. “Are you going to get some coffee?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah.” Geralt stands up before turning back to Dandelion. “What do you recommend? I don’t come places like this very often.”

“Yeah, I bet. You seem like a coffee, black kind of person.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Geralt admits.

Dandelion’s eyes practically bug out of his head. “What do you mean you don’t drink coffee?”

“Makes me jumpy. My hands shake.”

Dandelion lets out a sharp exhale. “Wow.”

Geralt scowls. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not! Well, maybe a little. You just better get hot chocolate, then.”

“Fine. I will.”

Dandelion’s laughter when Geralt returns to the table with a mug piled high with whipped cream is infectious.

He’s not sure what comes over him, but Geralt sticks out his tongue.

It’s not until he gets home that he realizes he never even pulled out his knitting.

Dandelion starts texting him more and more, and Geralt feels vaguely guilty when he watches Dandelion’s latest video.

He should probably tell Dandelion he watches them, but he doesn’t want it to turn into a thing , and he certainly doesn’t read too much into it when Dandelion mentions running into a handsome stranger on his latest yarn expedition.

He could be talking about anyone.

Geralt finishes his blanket for Yen, and he starts to think about what his next project should be. The yellow yarn is bright and warm; silky smooth between his fingers. He starts another blanket, because why not? He’s been wanting to practice cabling, anyway.

He brings it to the next yarn circle Dandelion invites him to, but it doesn’t get worked on, and Dandelion doesn’t say anything about where the rest of the circle is. Geralt doesn’t ask.

Finally, four yarn circles in where no knitting is accomplished, Dandelion gives up the ghost and asks Geralt out on a date. “That’s not what we’ve been doing?” Geralt asks with a small smile.

Dandelion shoves him in the chest, a teasing glint in his eye before his hand lingers on Geralt’s pec for a little too long. He jerks his hand back and clears his throat. “Great. I can’t wait," Geralt says.

“I’ll choose to believe that’s not sarcastic.”

Geralt pokes at him. “It’s not.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and hmm s right back.

A few weeks later finds Geralt sifting through Netflix for a movie to watch. “Hey, Dandelion!” Geralt calls from the couch, tugging a blanket up to his chin.

Dandelion freezes from his spot just outside the living room with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

“I have some white cheddar for that,” Geralt says.

“What did you just say?”

“I have some white cheddar for that,” Geralt repeats, more slowly this time.

“No, no, before that.”

Geralt thinks. “Your...name?”

Dandelion blinks at him. “My name is Jaskier.”

Now Geralt is the one who’s confused. “No, it’s not?”

“Geralt, I think I know my own name.” Dandelion’s face pinches. “Wait. You watch my videos?”

Geralt steels himself for the conversation. He had been wondering if he'd just be able to take the fact that he watches them to his grave. “Yes?”

“And you didn’t think to mention this?”

“It seemed...weird," Geralt says haltingly.

Geralt’s still reeling from the revelation. He’s the world’s worst boyfriend; Dandelion has to be playing a cruel prank on him.

“And it didn’t seem weird to you that you were watching me literally sing your praises last week?”

“I thought it was kind of sweet.”

Dand—Jaskier drags a hand down his face. “I can’t believe this.”

“How was I supposed to know that wasn’t your actual name?”

“Geralt, we have been together for a month. How do you not know my name ?”

“It’s never come up!” Geralt says defensively. “You’re the one who never even introduced yourself. Talk about bad manners.”

Jaskier splutters, and Geralt can’t help but quirk a grin at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Jaskier finally rallies. “We’re going to have a talk about online boundaries, but—”

“But what?”

“You’re so god damned stupid,” Jaskier says, before dragging Geralt into a kiss.

Geralt goes without complaint.

While Geralt ponders the new nature of their relationship, he finally finds a use for the blue yarn he’s been hoarding. The whole time he’s knitting the hat, he thinks of Jaskier. It’s exactly the right shade of his eyes, but Geralt doesn’t let himself contemplate it too hard.

When he’s finished, he finds an index card and scrawls a message. He wraps up the whole thing and gives it to Jaskier the next time he sees him.

Jaskier tears the package open and rubs the yarn between his fingers in delight. “You made this for me? No one’s ever knitted something for me before.”

“I’m glad I could remedy that,” Geralt says gruffly, shifting uncomfortably at the adoring look Jaskier is giving him.

Jaskier notices the card and reads it before bursting into laughter.

Sorry I didn’t know your name <3

“You’re forgiven.”

On to the next order of business, then. Geralt clears his throat. “Yen’s baby shower is next week.”

Jaskier makes a noise of polite interest, not looking up from where he’s examining the stitches in the hat. Geralt really hopes he doesn’t notice where he dropped one.

Geralt waits for a few more seconds and sighs. Jaskier is really going to make him ask. “I was wondering if you would want to go with me.”

Jaskier tilts his head up and gives Geralt a bright smile. “Of course I would!” He pauses to think for a moment. “Are you...out to them?”

“Yes,” Geralt grumbles. “It turns out my hiding spot for my play girls when I was 16 wasn’t as clever as I thought.”

Jaskier snorts. “It never is, is it?”

In the days leading up to the shower, Jaskier’s anxiety starts to show, but Geralt politely doesn’t comment. They walk up to the party arm in arm, Geralt carrying both of their gift bags. Geralt had told him he didn’t need to get anything, but he had anyway, insisting that he had just happened to stumble across the cutest onesie, Geralt! What a coincidence!

Geralt can’t help but smile as he looks over at Jaskier. Jaskier’s thumb is compulsively stroking over a spot on Geralt’s hand, and he’s even wearing the hat Geralt knitted him. Geralt’s chest feels tighter than normal.

“Oh, so this is why you haven’t been such a grump lately?” Triss asks once they walk through the door, taking their gift bags to set on a side table.

“I’m never grumpy,” Geralt says, and Jaskier has the audacity to laugh, so Geralt elbows him in the side.

Triss laughs at that, too, before she goes off to find Yennefer and drags her back to them. “Geralt!” she exclaims, rubbing a hand up his arm. “I’m glad you could drag yourself away from your very important activities that you refuse to tell anyone about.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and looks over to see Jaskier staring at him curiously.

“Ah, and this must be Dandelion!” Yen says, turning to Jaskier.

“Eskel wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that!” Geralt hisses, but Yen just gives him a delighted smile.

Geralt sighs as she moves on to terrorize her next guest.

“Your friends are pretty brutal, Geralt,” Jaskier says lightly.

“You have no idea.”

Geralt leads Jaskier over to where Eskel and Lambert are sitting by the food table and attempts to make small talk.

Almost immediately, Lambert asks, “What’d you get her?”

Eskel and Geralt share an exasperated look. “Why so competitive, Lamb? Over compensating?”

Lambert scowls. “I was just curious. You’re not going to be able to top what I got her, anyway. Best uncle ever.”

“You’re not going to be an uncle,” Eskel says.

Lambert is unconcerned. “Best uncle ever.”

Geralt crosses his arms and leans into Jaskier, trying to block out Eskel and Lambert’s bickering.

“I hate things like this,” Geralt mutters.

“Oh, don’t worry, Geralt. You being an unbearable softie is our little secret. I won’t breathe a word.”

Geralt grumbles. “That’s not why.” He pauses, then, “Why do I put up with you?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Jaskier says, turning his head to press a kiss against Geralt’s temple.

Geralt flushes at the touch and looks around, but no one is staring at them like anything out of the ordinary happened. Geralt relaxes back against him.

He’s almost dozing off by the time Yen gets to his gift, and he only realizes it by Jaskier digging a bony elbow into his stomach. He pinches Jaskier in retribution.

Yen opens the gift carefully, making the appropriate polite noises as she does so.

“Isn’t it soft?” Jaskier asks as she strokes her fingers over the blanket. “Geralt chose some great yarn.”

Geralt whips his neck around to look at Jaskier so quickly he thinks he heard something pop.

“What?”

“The yarn! It’s so nice and such a lovely color, don’t you think? Geralt did a wonderful job.”

“Geralt, you made this?” Yennefer asks incredulously, and great, her voice cracks.

Geralt sighs and tries to accept his fate of all the merciless jokes that are going to be made in his defense. “Yes?”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?”

“When the fuck did you learn how to do that?” Lambert asks.

Geralt shrugs defensively. “I’ve been knitting for years.”

Everyone’s eyes are drawn to the blue cap perched on top of Jaskier’s head, and teasing grins spread over their faces.

Geralt groans. He’s never going to hear the end of this.

As Jaskier takes his hand in his and squeezes, he thinks maybe that’s okay.

#fluff #au #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #contemplative writing

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krabstick32 · 5 years ago

Text

Your Hand in Marriage

Pairing: Giyuu x Reader

Synopsis: Headcanon/scenario for how Giyuu proposed...how he asked you to marry him...how he popped the question

Tags/warnings: There is slight mention of near-death, but yes, all fluff apart from that!! Also, this can be taken as modern or during canon timeline, whichever works really

a/n: again, thank you so much for requesting anon!! apologies for taking so long :((( i hope you like it though 🥺

LINK to the ask: Request by Anon

anyway, please enjoy!! <33

When he knew you were the one, marriage was always in the back of his mind

You made him yearn for something he feels like could never have

He dreamed of living a quiet, peaceful life with you, to build a warm home and a loving family

And he wanted it so badly

But he couldn’t

Not when he lived the life of a demon slayer—a pillar no less!—not when they were fighting a literal war against the demons who brought so much pain to him, to you, to so many people

He didn’t want his family grow in a world where demon exists

You two talked about this already

And you’ve both agreed that you’re all fine with not getting married even if both of you wanted it more than anything

Your jobs were dangerous—one wrong move could mean death

Both of you entered the corps knowing the consequences, and have made peace with that fact

I mean, you were open to getting married to him

and as much as he loves you, a lot

He didn't want marriage if it only leads to you dying

this man has experienced so much loss already, he can’t lose you too.

And you respected that. You didn’t care much for labels.

Marriage was, in essence, just a piece of paper to prove your relationship, and you knew that you loved each other too much to let a mere document dictate your relationship.

You don’t mind just staying as boyfriend and girlfriend, you’ll take whatever he’s willing to give

One day, on his way home (to you uwu), he passes by a jewelry store, and sees the ring

Now, Giyuu was never an impulsive buyer, but the ring was perfect.

He could clearly picture it on your left ring finger and—

Oops, he now has a ring in his pocket

It would either be a real classy ring—you know, the classic engagement ring with a yellow gold band and a sizable diamond in the middle

A unique and pretty ring that reminds him of you—a ring designed with sapphires and diamonds.

(only the best for u after all uwu)

We all know man´s rich enough for it

(giyuu is a pillar. he can literally afford to buy everyone in the corps this ring, and still have left over money to have a lifetime supply of salmon daikon if he wanted to.)

When he got home, his stupidly impulsive buy just dawned on him and u bet he was awkward with you until he found the sneakiest hiding spot for it

((it was hidden underneath a shingle on the roof—a little overkill honestly))

Anyway, all was normal

But Gods, everything changed when the fire nation attacked when you were called to the Butterfly Wing.

He was finishing up on a mission with another pillar, Shinazugawa, and four other slayers (ranked kinoe’s and kinoto’s) when they ran into an upper moon.

And surprisingly, all of these slayers came home, bruised and a lot bloody, but alive.

As you were listening to the report at the Ubuyashiki estate for a meeting, you were relieved to hear that—six demon slayers, all alive after an encounter with an upper moon!!—but when you heard the entire report, your stomach dropped in dread and you dead-ass sprinted out the door to go straight into the butterfly wing.

(You can apologize to the Oyakata-sama later though he was a second away from shooing you out the door)

Because Giyuu—

Giyuu was there

Your stupid, brave, lovable Giyuu,

Threw himself in front of his fellow slayers to take the brunt of the hit with lull, and so very nearly died when he got hit by the demon’s blood art.

It worked though, because now, the demon got distracted, giving the others ample time to deal with the minions

Once Sanemi and the others were able to lop its head off, the kakushi arrived promptly and rushed everyone back to the butterfly estate.

He woke up after a week. That was the extent of the damage brought to him by that near fatal blow.

First thing he saw was you

You were sound asleep right by his bed, slouched over the visitor’s chair in a position Giyuu knew was anything but comfortable. He was quick to note the dark circles under your eyes, briefly wondering how long you were there. You looked a little cold, so he moved to place the extra blanket from his bedside over you, but you immediately stir when you felt the slightest movement.

“Giyuu? Sweetheart, are you…?”

Seeing him awake felt like a huge bucket of water was poured over you. Any trace of sleep was gone from your body—you were wide awake in a flash, relieved and grateful that he was alive.

“Hello—“ His voice was a little raspier than either of you liked, but yours however, was fine, and healthy enough to to speak your mind.

“You dumbass!” You hiss, throwing him a light glare.“Do you know how worried I was? How scared I was? I thought I was going to lose you!”

“I’m sorry.” He says, and squirms slightly under your gaze. He would’ve looked away, but he’s missed you a lot. Wasting a few seconds from cowering in slight shame and a little fear would be unbecoming of a Pillar.

“Don’t say sorry!” You were trying so hard to look stern and mad, but having the love of your life nearly taken away from you? You nearly lost him—all you wanted was to just touch him, and never let him go.

Tears start slipping down your eyes before you could stop yourself. Without a word, you wrap your arms over his neck, nearly straddling him as you buried your face in his neck. You try to memorize how his body felt against yours, clinging to him like your life depended on it—and in a way, it did.

“You!—don’t ever do that to me again!” You cry, being mindful of his injuries as you hold him tighter. Neither of you make mention of how his hospital clothes were starting to grow damp. ��If you die and leave me alone, I swear to the gods—!”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, because what else can he say? He wasn’t aware of how close he was to losing you, until he woke up from the week-long coma. He made you sad, and worry over him, and he never wants to see you cry ever again. He brings you closer against his chest, and says a silent thank you to whatever god let him live.

“You better be!” You mumble.

“I am. I missed you.” He drops his head against your shoulder, and holds you tighter against him.

Still mindful of his injuries, you return his hug tenfold. “I missed you too.”

Neither of you let go until Shinobu and Aoi dropped by to clean and redress his wounds.

Afterwards though neither of you left each other’s side (I mean, it’s not like Giyuu could, but you get my point),

Anyway, even if one of the butterfly girls or even Shinobu came in to give him meds—

He would always be touching you

Holding pinkies, even holding hands, which was a surprising, since he wasn’t much for PDA.

Another surprising fact was that Shinobu would only tease him no more than eight times per visit, when she would usually tease him nonstop.

You didn’t leave him for the entire week he needed to recover, unless it was for a mission (Oyakata-sama was very kind in giving you lighter, and easier missions—easy for you, hard for lower ranked slayers)

That night, you definitely stayed in his room (one of the pillars was kind enough to take over your patrol. it was Mitsuri), and slept right by his side.

As you slept, he watches the careful rise and fall of your chest.

You looked so peaceful that he starts daydreaming about what could be—a future with you.

His near death experience made him realize that if he didn’t marry you, it would be one of the greatest mistakes of his life.

You taught him to live life to its fullest, to live without regrets

And he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t get to call you his wife, even if it was just for a day.

The demons have taken so much from him already—his sister, his best friend

They’ve already taken too much

He’s not going to let the demons take away any more of his happiness

SO YES

This was the moment he finally decided to ask you to be his wife.

took him long enough

Giyuu knew that he wasn’t the best at communication

And he was really worried about you not wanting to marry him anymore. It’s been a while since that conversation after all

He wanted things to be as clear as spring water before even popping the question

So he decides to ask you.

He brings you out to the engawa and sits there with you, enjoying the night breeze and the view

You’d look very pretty under the moonlight and aaaaa

He wonders how he ever managed to control himself from asking you to marry him earlier

Because right now

Giyuu has half the mind to just beg you to marry him

He brings it up bluntly carefully,

“...How do you feel about marrying me?”

He brought it up bluntly.

You’re used to it though (you didn’t even bat an eyelash—what a champ), so you take it in stride.

“What I said before still stands, sweetheart. I would love nothing more than to be your wife, but if you’re not ready—“

“I am.”

Your neck almost snaps with how fast your head turns to look at Giyuu. He wasn’t far, just a few inches of space between your bodies, but you could feel his comforting warmth, and could clearly see his expression despite it being night.

“Are you serious?” You knew he was—Giyuu never was the type to joke—but you couldn’t help but ask. You knew he loved you, you knew he wanted to be with you for as long as possible, but him asking to marry you? Both of you talked about this, and you respected what he wanted and his reasons behind it, so whatever this was? It all felt too good to be true that you wanted to pinch yourself.

“Yes.” Giyuu carefully takes your hands and uses his thumb to trace soothing circles onto the skin of your palm. “If you’re fine with someone like me...” He places his forehead on top of yours and your heart just...picks up the pace. You’re sure he could hear how fast it was beating, while you’re made aware of the fact that your eyes were starting to get teary because everything looked so blurry.

“Marry me, (F/N)?”

Him wanting to know if you still wanted a marriage with him, turned into an actual proposal

But neither of you minded

It felt perfect

You burst into a loud, giddy laugh, the happy smile on your lips wide enough to reach your ears. The tears start spilling over as you nod your head vigorously, repeating the word “Yes!” like it was the only word you could say.

Giyuu’s mouth curls into the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen on him, and continues to grow each time you ‘yes’. He puts the ring on your finger and you're struck by how pretty it is, feeling a sense of rightness wash over you. He feels it too as both of you take a moment to look at how perfect the fit is, before you look back up at him.

By the gods, he looked so handsome with that smile on his face, you couldn’t take it. You bring your hands to cup his face, and kiss him for all you were worth. HIs hands wrap around your waist, and you grip the nape of his neck, savoring the feeling of his comforting warmth pressed against you. As both of you pressed your lips against each other, neither of you could stop smiling—you were both so happy.

“You’ll marry me?”

“I’ll marry you right now, if it was possible.”

“You really want to marry me?”

“I always did. I feel stupid for making you wait so long.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart, I understand why.”

He pulls away a little, pouting. “But I could’ve been calling you my wife earlier.”

“And I could’ve been calling you my husband earlier,” You tease “but here we are.”

“...Maybe we can find a priest right now.”

You laugh and smack his shoulder. “We waited a few years, I’m sure we can wait for a few months.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment.

“Giyuu?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” You really do.

He smiles softly, taking your left hand and kissing the back of your hand. “I love you too.” He really does.

For better or for worse

During the next Pillar meeting, everyone definitely notices your ring

a/n: i would like to marry this man please and thank you (′ꈍωꈍ‵)💖

I have another request in the works, but if you liked this headcanon, maybe you’d like to see a continuation! I’ve got some ideas stocked up for “how they met”, “how they got married”, or maybe “how the other pillars react to your engagement”... anyways feel free to drop a request!

apologies in advance if it takes me another month 😔

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just--another--daydreamer · 5 years ago

Text

Bound Souls

» Izuku Midoriya x male reader

» Genre: Angst & Fluff » Requested (by @thatcucumberwhore): Soulmates with Midoriya and male reader? 👉🏼👈🏼😊 » Summary: Soulmate AU where soulmates share the same superpower. You were born quirkless and fall in love with the insanely powerful hero student Midoriya » Warnings: just some angst and crying » Words: 2.6k

You can find a link to my Masterlist etc in my bio and pinned post

***

Soulmate AU where soulmates share the same superpower

“Are you Y/N from the General Education department? Class 1-C?” You closed your locker and turned around. A boy stood in front of you, a bit too close, which he noticed too and took a step back while muttering an apology under his breath. “Yeah, that’s me.” You looked the boy up and down. His tie was not tied properly, his green hair was a mess and he looked way too excited to see you while you had no idea who he was. Judging by the single button on the shoulder part of his uniform he belonged in the hero department.

“And you are…?” “Oh, of course, sorry!” The boy stood up straight before bowing shortly. “I’m Izuku Midoriya from class 1-A! I sent you an email about the tutoring yesterday!” “Ahh yeah I almost forgot about that!” You only vaguely remembered putting up a small ad on the school’s website, saying that you would be willing to help other students with different subjects and topics in school that they did not understand. Especially for students from the hero department it was not uncommon to need tutoring since most of them were way too focused on the practical part of being a hero and neglected basic things like maths or foreign languages.

You opened your backpack and pulled out your calendar. “It was English and maths, right? I’m free this afternoon, so we could meet at the café that’s quite close to the school’s entrance? You know which one I’m talking about?” Midoriya nodded, so you scribbled the time into your calendar. “Alright, I’ll see you after school then!”

***

The warm air in the small café smelled sweet like cake and waffles when you entered. A few students from UA and other schools sat in groups and pairs at the tables with their faces either buried in books or enjoying something to eat while chatting. Midoriya was already there; he sat at a table next to a window, so you approached him.

“Have you been waiting for long?” Midoriya shook his head. The hero student had changed after school, he was now wearing an All Might hoodie. Nerd. You sat down and put your backpack on the empty chair next to you. Even though Midoriya had prepared himself for a longer and more relaxed stay at the café, and thus had ordered a drink as well as a snack, you got straight to the point.

“I’m willing to be your tutor, but according to your email you ranked fourth during your midterms? Why would you need tutoring for that?” You watched Midoriya’s face turn red. “Well, that has multiple reasons,” he started to mumble incoherently. “Don’t want to fall behind… Need to do my best… Then there was the-… and I wasn’t allowed in class…” You could not make much sense of anything but the last part. “You-” you pointed at Midoriya and narrowed your eyes. “-were one of the students fighting at night, weren’t you?” The colour of Midoriya’s face changed from light red to tomato red. “Y-yeah…” he sighed. “I didn’t miss many classes but all that’s on my mind is the practical hero stuff like fighting and I train that instead of studying for the other subjects. So, before the written exams, I always spend my time catching up and studying way too much and I want to change that. I need to work more on that stuff throughout the term, not last-minute.”

“I thought so.” You opened your backpack and pulled out a pencil and a notepad. “That’s a problem many hero students have, so I’m willing to help you with this!” Midoriya started smiling. “That’s great, thank you!” He reached into his own bag and put some books on the table. “Let’s get started then!”

Izuku Midoriya. Now that you were watching him rewrite his English essay for the third time, you remembered where you had seen him before. He had stood out at the sports festival as the kid who had broken all of his bones while using his quirk. Strong and effective but useless at the same time. You wondered if his soulmate had the same problems using their shared quirk. Shaking your head, you dismissed that thought.

Midoriya bit his pencil and furrowed his brows at his paper. “Can I help?” you offered and Midoriya nodded. “Did I use the correct tense here?” He slid his paper over to you and you skimmed his last sentence. “Looks fine to me. But I’d use a different word right here and here.” You drew circles around a few words. “Your English grammar is great, but your vocabulary needs work.”

“Alright, thanks!” Instead of getting back to work, Midoriya took a sip from his mug and looked at you. “You’re a great teacher,” he told you. “Are you considering becoming one?” The question caught you off-guard. You put your pencil down, sat back and thought about the question for a few seconds. “It’s not my first choice,” you admitted, “but that first choice won’t work out, so I’m considering becoming a teacher.” “Then what was your first choice?” “I wanted to become a hero. Like everyone else.”

Midoriya curiously cocked his head to the side. “Why didn’t it work out?” “’cause I’m quirkless,” you answered dryly. It was not something you liked talking about. Quirkless people were looked down upon more and more, and not being able to become a hero was not the only downside. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Your vis-à-vis said and looked down on his paper. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault after all.” “But I brought it up and you seem sad about it.” While that was true, you did not want him to feel guilty about it. So, instead of replying, you tapped on his paper with your pencil. “C’mon, fix that sentence!” Your student complied.

Your study session ended after two and a half hours, in which you had forced Midoriya to re-write his essay about four times. Even though you had dragged him through hell, he asked for your number and to meet you again in the future. Once you had stepped outside, Midoriya pulled out his wallet. “So how much for this lesson?” You looked at him, dumbfounded, before you began to laugh. “W-what’s wrong?” Midoriya lowered the hand that was holding the money when you raised your hands to mutely indicate that you did not want his money. “But it’s your time that you could spend in other ways!”

Even though he had a point, you shook your head. “Normally I’d take money, but I had a different idea,” you explained. “I’d like to ask you to teach me a thing or two about self-defence and fighting. It’s always useful, y’know?” “So you help me with my homework, and I help you train?” You nodded and offered Midoriya your hand. “Deal?” Midoriya shook your hand without hesitation. “Deal!” With that, you started walking back to the campus together.

Since it was getting dark, not too many people were out anymore. A few UA students were on their way back to campus as well, but you did not pay much attention to them. The two people who caught your eye were two girls standing in front of a park’s gates. One of them opened her hand and let her palm face upward. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a flower grew out of the palm of her hand, glowing in a warm, white light that lit up both the girls’ faces. The other girl clapped before doing the exact same. Shared quirks. Soulmates.

You looked down at your own hands.

Besides not being able to become a hero, never finding your soulmate was the other downside of being quirkless. Sure, the number of quirkless people was low in your generation, but there still was not that one person you could find. It was not even proven if quirkless people had a soulmate like people with quirks, who shared one and the same ability with their soulmate. It was not looked down upon to be in a relationship with someone who was not your soulmate, in fact, platonic soulmates were a thing as well as dating someone who was not your soulmate and people embraced that idea. And sometimes you held onto that romantic thought of meeting your soulmate and growing old with them together, either platonically or romantically. But being quirkless made that impossible.

“Why did you stop walking? Are you alright?” Midoriya was a few steps ahead of you already when he stopped and looked back at you. “Y/N?” You tore your eyes away from the girls and forced a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry!” As the sun finally set, you reached the dorms and said goodbye for the night.

After that, you continued to meet Midoriya for extra tutoring as well as basic fight training, and you started to become friends. Whenever you saw each other on the hallway, he smiled at you sweetly, and you even ate lunch together every now and then because he needed you to read over his homework before class.

The training with Midoriya was exhausting, the hero students had some insane workout routines that you could never dream of completing.

But like every week, there you were again in your PE clothes in the small park surrounding UA. Next to you stood Midoriya, currently telling you about the importance of stretching as you popped your joints with every single movement.

After a while, Midoriya left you to do some push-ups while he activated his quirk to do some training on his own. He dropped his hoodie to the ground, exposing the many scars on his arms. It was not your first time seeing them, but they fascinated you every single time. Midoriya pushed himself so hard and got hurt so often, yet he never gave up on his dream of becoming a hero. You envied him a little – after all his quirk was insanely powerful. A sigh escaped you as you watched him from your planking position. “Are you done already?” Shit, Midoriya had caught you staring. A faint blush adorned his cheeks as he approached you, the green light from his quirk still surrounding him. “Yeah,” you lied, not having done a single push-up. You moved from your current position into a sitting one and Midoriya sat down as well.

“You didn’t do the push-ups, did you?” “You’re right, that was a lie,” you admitted. “You seem distracted, is there something on your mind?” Midoriya’s question caught you off-guard. “Of course, you don’t have to share, but I’m here to listen, if you’d like.” You nodded with a smile. “Thank you, Midoriya.” Taking a few deep breaths, you closed your eyes for a few seconds. The cool evening air smelled like grass and autumn, a calming scent that let you relax a little.

“One of my friends from class 1-C recently met her soulmate,” you told Deku. “Of course, I’m happy for her, she deserves it, but… but I’m jealous at the same time. People like her and you get to be happy with someone, but what about me? I-” you balled your hands to fists as tears dwelled in your eyes. “I’m just someone quirkless who’s doomed to never find someone, you know?” Before your tears started falling, you quickly wiped them away with your hand.

Midoriya looked at you with his brows furrowed. “You’re jealous of me? Because of the quirk I was born with?” His gaze fell on his hands. “Normally I don’t think about the soulmate thing too much, but- but I’ve fallen in love with someone born with a quirk.” Your breath got caught in your throat as you said it out loud for the first time. It was honestly surprising that you managed to admit that to yourself as well as to somebody else. Deku’s eyes shot up again and met yours.

“Oh,” he mumbled, “I’m sorry.” You let out a shaky sigh before you continued. “Deku, that person is you.” A sob shook your body. “But you have this amazing quirk, so I know that it’s already impossible, no matter what I do or what happens now that I told you.” Shock painted Midoriya’s face almost white. His mouth stood agape as he stared at you, no reaction. It was not like you had expected anything different to happen, but it still hurt. Your heart stung and the pain filled your whole chest.

Without your brain even telling your body to do anything, you got up and stood in front of Midoriya. “I’m sorry, forget it. I gotta go.” You turned around on your heels and made your way back to the dorms, stumbling across the grass with trembling legs. This was a nightmare. An actual nightmare. The cold breeze stung on your tear-stained cheeks, but the light of the dormitories was already in sight, promising warmth, and a blanket to hide beneath.

“Y/N! Wait!” You heard footsteps coming closer quickly and Midoriya’s voice yelling your name. “Please wait!” Your legs stopped walking by themselves and you came to a halt. “I- I-,” he struggled for words, but nothing came out, he just kept on stuttering incoherent words and sentences. He reached out and grabbed your hand loosely, but you still felt the way his fingers trembled. “Let me go, Midoriya.” With your free arm, you wiped the tears from your cheeks that had begun to fall again. “Please.” Your hand dropped to your chest and you clutched your shirt directly over your heart. It hurt. It hurt so damn much.

“No.” Midoriya’s voice was quite yet he was sure of what he said. “Y/N, I- that was a lie.” He panted slightly from running after you. “My quirk,” Midoriya sighed as his grip on your hand tightened a little. “I used to be quirkless!” It felt like time stopped around you, Midoriya’s yelling echoed in your head but you could not make sense of it. “What?” You turned around slowly. Midoriya’s eyes were red and filled with tears, and he seemed to struggle with keeping his composure.

“I was born quirkless,” he repeated, calmer this time. His hand let go off yours and limply dropped to his side. “Somebody else gave me my quirk.” “All Might,” you mumbled and Midoriya nodded in confirmation. “Yeah. I inherited his quirk One for All.” He shook his head shortly. “But that’s not important right now.” Midoriya took a step toward you.

“Y/N, I-” a blush crept up his neck and painted his cheeks in a soft pink. “-I believe that you are my soulmate.” For what felt like the hundredth time that day, your heart skipped a beat. “But- but quirkless people-” “-don’t have a soulmate?” Midoriya finished your sentence. “I don’t believe that. And even if I did, it wouldn’t stop me from… from…” The faint pink changed into a deep red. “…liking you…” Your breath got caught in your throat. “You’re joking, right?”

“No! I like you, Y/N,” Midoriya repeated, more confident this time. “And I didn’t say anything because I felt the same way about being quirkless as you do, and because I thought that someone somewhere received the same quirk as me, but that’s not the case. I was born quirkless and I fell for someone who was born quirkless too.” His lips quivered as he told you this, probably dwelling in memories. Midoriya took a step toward you.

“Y/N, it doesn’t matter if we actually are soulmates or not.” He reached out and took one of your hands in his once again. “It doesn’t stop me from liking you. Please, go out with me?” All you were able to do was giving him a short nod.

#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya x male reader #midoriya izuku x male reader #deku #midoriya izuku #midoriya #x reader #x yn #x you #x male reader #bnha x reader #bnha x male reader

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amjustagirl · 5 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

AO3 Link here

Masterlist here

Their daughter enters the world squalling, tiny and pink and bloodied and somewhat wrinkled but healthy which is all that really matters), and Atsumu’s eyes widen before immediately filling with tears when the doctor places her in his arms.

‘You did amazin’, darlin’ he whispers, running his finger against their daughter’s cheek reverently. ‘She’s perfect’.

‘Make sure you count ten fingers and toes before you say that’, she manages to say before dropping her head back into the pillow, bone weary from her labour, and he laughs through his tears.

They name her Shino, which means stem of bamboo. She reasons that if their daughter is going to take the Miya family name, she should in fairness have a name that represents her side of the family – and besides, she’d always been drawn to the whimsicalness of the tale of the bamboo cutter, but thought naming her baby ‘Kaguya’ might be a little on the nose. Atsumu’s grandmother isn’t terribly pleased, but her stoic father bursts into tears when they tell him, and immediately sends over a crate full of toys carved out of the bamboo from their family’s ancestral grove.

The press has a field day when MSBY’s PR team releases news of their marriage and Shino’s birth, but thankfully the full weight of the team’s PR machine manages to twist the coverage to repackage Atsumu’s image as a wholesome family man, so the articles remain relatively positive. Still, they’re forced to sit through a number of photo shoots to keep the press happy, and she shudders at the office gossip she knows she’ll have to face when she returns back to work.

His teammates crowd to greet Shino when she brings her out for one of their matches for the first time. Atsumu presents Shino proudly to his teammates - ‘look at what I made’, he demands, dangling her in his hands so they can ooh and ahh over the little girl - ‘ I learnt it from one of those kiddie cartoons I watched at night when she wouldn’t sleep!’ he tells her later when she scolds him for the precarious hold.

She has to shoo Hinata and Bokuto away when they try to hand Shino a volleyball, the ball looking comically big against the baby girl. Sakusa stands at a respectful distance away, but hands her an adorable onesie in MSBY’s black and gold, wrapped carefully in plastic. The corner of his eyes crinkle behind his mask when he tells her it’s so Shino can support them properly at their next game.

‘Aww, Omi-omi! I always knew you liked me deep down inside’ Atsumu crows, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands.

‘You’re insane to marry him’, Sakusa tells her, refusing to even acknowledge Atsumu’s tomfoolery.

‘Maybe I am’, she grins, warmth furling and unfurling in her chest.

Despite her initial fears, Atsumu falls head over heels for Shino, and continues to allow their baby daughter to wrap him around her tiny finger. He wakes up without complaint for night feedings, spends nights pacing their little apartment coaxing Shino to bed, and straps her on his broad chest for what his pronounces ‘daddy-daughter’ adventures during the off-season when she’s away during the day for work. On weekends, they bring Shino to the park to watch the birds and the clouds in the sky, to the aquarium to watch the fish in the sea, and to the museum to marvel at dinosaur bones from a distant past.

It’s at the museum that Shino says her first word, sitting between Atsumu’s legs in the museum sandbox, digging her chubby hands in the sand in search of fake fossils.

‘Say that again’, Atsumu laughs wetly, pressing kisses to the top of their little girl’s head.

‘Oto-san!’, Shino crows, the look on her face so reminiscent of Atsumu’s expression whenever he’s pleased with herself that she’s torn between feeling pride at her precocious little girl - and horror that she’s going to have her hands full with a mini-Atsumu.

‘You’re daddy’s little girl, aren’t you, princess?’ Atsumu says proudly, and Shino claps her hands as he cuddles her close to his chest. He later tries his level best to empty out the museum gift store of toys to commemorate the day and she has to slap his hands from tossing in ‘just one more toy’ into their checkout basket.

‘Are you happy, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks him later, after they put Shino to bed.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ he asks with a puzzled frown. ‘I have everything I need.’

‘Just checking’, she replies, her doubts forgotten when he tugs her into bed.

For Shino’s first birthday, both their families squeeze into their apartment to celebrate by strapping a giant piece of mochi that Osamu made to her back, a tradition to rid young children of any impurities. Atsumu nearly trips over himself trying to capture a photo of the auspicious moment Shino falls over on her butt, and showers kisses on her proudly when she does not cry.

They also carry out the erabitori ceremony, setting in front of Shino several objects symbolising the various paths she might choose in the future. Aside from the common items like an abacus, writing brush or books, her brothers insist on including a knife (sheathed, of course), earning raised eyebrows of Atsumus’s family. Osamu tosses in a kitchen spoon and Atsumu naturally places a volleyball right in the center of the spread.

‘Cheatin’ pig’, Osamu mutters when Shino ends up picking the volleyball (attracted by its bright colours, he maintains), but Atsumu ignores him, tossing the little girl in the air in delight.

‘Darlin’, come take a look at this! Kageyama-kun’s playing his first game in Rome, and it looks like - I can’t believe this, why does his technique look better than before?! What - is the water he’s drinkin’ overseas magic or something? How’s he getting so good?’

‘Tsumu, could you keep it down? I just got Shino to bed, and I really need to finish the work I didn’t have time to do ‘cos I took over her pick-up today’. She replies wearily, typing furiously at her laptop.

‘Sorry. I’ll pop over to chat with ‘Samu then, be back late!’

She nods distractedly as she hears the door click behind her back.

‘I can’t believe I screwed up so badly at practice today’ Atsumu grouses, chin propped up on the wooden countertop of Onigiri Miya in between mouthfuls of food. ‘I kept missing my serves, and then that asshole Omi-omi dared to laugh when I ran around trying to get my head back into the game –‘

‘Tsumu’. Osamu cuts in, setting another onigiri in front of him. ‘As much as I want to listen to you complain about your no-good, very-bad day, could’ya help your poor wife out a little bit?’

‘Thanks ‘Samu’, she musters the energy to give him a distracted smile, juggling a bowl of rice porridge she’s trying to persuade Shino to eat and preventing said little girl from smearing rice grains all over the place.

Atsumu plops Shino onto his lap, and continues talking over her head. She takes the opportunity to stuff her face with food – glorious food, and doesn’t notice when he maintains a sullen silence as they walk home.

A hush ripples across the stands like a tsunami when Atsumu gets substituted midway during the last set of the match. She isn’t surprised, not when he started playing badly during the set – there was a little kid that screeched just as he was about to serve, and he’d hit the ball way out of bounds. That had been the start of his downward spiral during the game – his dump shots got picked up, his blocks weren’t quite on point, and worst of all – he’d somehow managed to misjudge the timing of a toss to Hinata-kun, the ginger haired spiker looking confused when the ball missed his hand.

He’d stormed off the court the minute the referee’s whistle sounded, frustration and anger written all over his face and she’d made a beeline for the locker room, tucking a sleeping Shino into her carrier. She can hear him yelling (at himself, most likely) and the distinct sound of flesh hitting metal, and is about to burst in to comfort him when Sakusa steps neatly in front of her to block her way.

‘Sakusa-kun’, she greets him, eyes darting towards the door.

‘Miya-san’, he nods at her, face already hidden behind his usual mask. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to disturb him just yet.’

She opens her mouth to object, but Meian Shugo, the team’s broad shouldered, good natured captain, plants a hand on her shoulder to gently steer her away. ‘It’s not a pleasant sight when he’s in a funk’, he tells her quietly. ‘Let us deal with it, we’re used to him. Do you need me to call you a cab?’

‘He’s my husband – I should be the one to deal with him’ , she wants to say – but doesn’t, because Shino jolts awake and starts to wail. ‘It’s fine’, she does say, hushing her little girl. ‘I’ll hitch a ride home with ‘Samu instead’.

She meant to stay up to wait for Atsumu, give him his usual kiss and listen to him talk about his day, but she’s out like a light when her head hits the pillow (it’s been a long day, in her defense) , and she has to leave in the morning for work before he wakes.

‘Everyone has their off days, but you’re an incredible setter, you know?’ she does tell him that night over dinner. Shino squeals and smashes her hand into the bowl of food.

‘Of course I am’, he frowns at her, almost as if he thinks it’s odd for her to even feel the need to say that, and turns away to ruffle Shino’s hair.

She waits by herself in the lobby of her office building for five minutes before she gives in to her impatience and calls him.

‘Tsumu? Weren’t we supposed to meet for lunch today?’

‘Oh shit – I’m sorry, doll, I promised Hinata-kun that I’ll come in for extra practice today. I’ll make it up to you some other day, ok?’

She sighs through her nose. ‘Ok – have fun dear’, she replies reluctantly, and he ends the call before she can say any more.

She can feel the gaze of her colleagues on her back, and plasters a smile on her face before marching off to her favourite dessert place, comforting herself with a box of mochi. She buys an extra box for Osamu (they had a specialty flavour just for the season, and she knows he’s been dying to try that) , and drops it off on the way back home.

Atsumu complains about only getting one piece of mochi when Osamu sends him a picture of her gift – she can imagine him gloating even though the picture is unaccompanied by any text.

‘You don’t even like chestnut!’ she scolds Atsumu, and he sulks.

‘Tsumu! Could you come help zip me into my dress?’ she calls, checking her watch impatiently. The babysitter should arrive in five minutes to take care of Shino for the night while they’re away at the team’s annual gala party.

‘Yknow’, we’d get there a lot faster if you hadn’t sold your old scooter’, he tells her, as he steps into the room, immaculately dressed in his best suit.

‘I told you – it’s not practical to keep a scooter around when we have a young child’, she answers, already weary of a conversation they’ve had multiple times before.

‘I’m just sayin’, he says lightly. ‘Oof – sorry, darlin’, the zip ain’t budgin’.

‘But it fit perfectly fine the last time I wore it’, she frowns.

‘You must’ve put on some weight’, he says absently, the heat of his hand burning on her hip even after he walks away.

‘Tsumu, seriously? I told you yesterday morning that we’re out of milk powder and diapers!’ she growls into her phone, cramming her way onto the subway. ‘Fine – whatever, you go for training, I’ll deal with it myself’, she ends the call, dropping her phone like a hot stone into her pocket.

She runs to the supermarket during her lunch break, cursing herself for wearing heels instead of more comfortable flats, picking up two packs of diapers, a double can of milk powder, and a pack of wipes on discount - all things Atsumu should have picked up last night, but he claimed he was too busy with training and club events to pay attention to a simple errand like this –

She’s so lost in her thoughts she doesn’t notice when her foot misses the curb and lands on her knees in the dust, the contents of her bags spilling onto the road. There are scores of people on the street but no one stops to offer their assistance, so she ignores the searing pain to pick her precious supplies up before they’re lost in the crowd.

The blood from the cuts on her knees drips down her calves, and she limps her way back to the office.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Yuna-san asks with a curious smirk on her face when she heads back to her seat, eyes red, knees wrapped with white bandages.

‘No, nothing like that’, she answers the office gossip, keeping her voice deliberately light.

Atsumu only grunts when she asks him that night how his day went, kneeling down to greet Shino with a hug.

‘Won’t be stayin’ for dinner, got a team event at night’, Atsumu calls out to her, one foot out of the door.

‘What? You should’ve told me earlier, I’m already halfway through preparing dinner’, she shouts back, hacking at the vegetables on the chopping board with a vengeance.

His only reply is a slam of the door, which startles Shino enough to cry. In her hurry to get to her daughter, her hand on the knife slips, and she cuts open her hand.

The space beside her remains empty throughout the night, and she falls asleep pretending the only pain she feels is from the bleeding gash on her hand. She’s so exhausted she does not wake until her alarm rings, not even when the surge of rain overnight batters her windows and water floods the streets.

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burgundyhaven · 4 years ago

Text

Send Her to Me: Teen! Kit Walker x Reader

Description: basically high school kit walker is trying to ask y/n out to the dance but everytime he tries to ask her out he keeps on missing her so he asks for his friends to send her to him

Word count: 1,702

Warnings: cursing, fluff? Nothing else that I can think of :)

A/n: I had a lot of fun making this, I’ve been in my 60s/70s phase as of recent so I’ve been listening to a lot of 60s garage rock and this is inspired by “send her to me” by the dark knights which is amazing you should go check the song out expeditiously. This is taking place in November of 1957 btw :)))) enjoy!!! Sorry if this is messy I finished writing this at 3:48 am which explains lots of the spelling and punctuation errors it’s whatever

Link to send her to me by the dark knights-https://youtu.be/BJKQks4neiI

It was November of 1957 and it was Kit Walkers final year of high school

He just wanted the stress of all of the work and uncertain future to be over

But there was one thing he would miss, you

He’s had a huge crush on you ever since you were in 9th grade, but only now worked up the courage to ask you out

You were putting your things away in your locker when you saw kit coming towards you

“Hey y/n”

“Oh- hi kit! what class you got next?”

“History. you?”

“English”

“Oh- uh… cool”

“Yeah.cool?” you chuckled

“Um-“

“Yeah?”

“Would you want to-“ he stops for a while

“Would I want to what?”

“Would you want to-“

he gets cut off by a loud bell

“Sorry! I gotta go i can’t be late again that’ll be three days in a row, catch you after this class though?”

“Oh. yeah sure” Kit says almost whispering and looking down at his shoes after waving at you

He went to history, though his attention was on the clock waiting for the next chance to see you

Finally, the bell rang and he went right to your locker, but…you weren’t there

He didn’t know, but you just didn’t need to go to your locker that class, but he knew he’d be able to talk to you in lunch

He went to his friends and asked them if they would send a message for him. He knew at least two of them had that class with you

“Hey- hold on wait, Jimmy tell y/n to meet me at the 6th lunch table, I keep on missing her at hall time”

“What for?”

“Nothing I just wanted to talk to her, if you don’t have her class next ask Henry I know he has the same class as her right now”

“Alright good luck… on whatever crazy shit your doing”

“Yeah thanks” he chuckled and looked down at his shoes

You were in your class when you saw one of Kits friends walking into your class, which was normal. But, he never talked to you in particular

He approached you and spoke quickly and quietly

“Kit wants you to meet him at the sixth table in the cafeteria in lunchtime”

“Why”

“I don’t know? He didn’t give a reason”

“Alright… thanks”

*45 minutes later*

Finally, it was lunchtime and he spotted you sitting alone in the corner of the cafeteria,where he told you to meet him

He walked over to the table and sat right in front of you

“Hey what’re you doing here all alone again”

you smiled and put a strand of hair behind your ear

“Sorry about forgetting to tell you i wouldn’t be at my locker, i forgot i didn’t need any books for my class after english”

“no don’t worry about it it’s fine”

“So what did you wanna tell me kit?”

“Oh,uh i wanted to actually show you something”

He walked over and dragged his lunch to your side and sat down

He pulled out a photo from his bag

“Here it is”

He slid the photo to your side

“Oh my god Kit! That’s us! God we were so little” you laughed

“But- how’d you find these i thought you lost all your pictures in the move”

“Yeah, but we found a tin inside of the box with my moms clothes and it had all my baby photos and stuff like that”

“You got any more?”

“Yeah, If you wanna come over afterschool and I could look through them with you. I haven’t gotten a chance to see them all yet?”

“Yeah, of course! we’d have to walk though, i can’t go alone”

“yeah that’s no problem,meet me by the front of the school at around 2:00?”

“K, see you then”

He knew this was going to work perfectly, you would be thinking about the past you guys had and then he’d ask you out and you would just have to say yes

2:00 came and you were out in front waiting for about 8 minutes, he was a little late but he came out eventually

“Sorry i kept you waiting so long. That son of a bitch Mr. Wells made me stay after class for not finishing the test in time”

“No don’t worry it’s okay,it’s only 2:08 you didn’t keep me waiting for that long” you said while smiling at him

“Alright,let’s go- wait did you call

your house and tell them you were coming over?”

“ Uh-yeah I told my mom i’d be home a little late and i’d be at your place for school”

“For school?”

“She wouldn’t let me at any guys house if it wasn’t school related,even though she’s known you since you were born”

“Makes sense” he laughs and looks at you

The cold november breeze made you start to shiver and you put your books close to your chest but it was no use

Kit noticed you were getting cold and gave you his jacket, and even though you told him you weren’t cold, he knew you just didn’t want to seem like you needed anything, so he put it on you anyways

you made it to his house and he got his key out

you went in and his parents weren’t home

His dad was at work, and his mom left a note saying she wouldn’t be home until around 8 as she was out running errands

“Well i guess this is my house for the after noon” he said smiling

You laughed and smiled back

You asked if he wanted his jacket back, but he said you could keep it, so you put it on completely

“So,you wanna eat anything?”

“No, thanks though”

“I’ll go get the box then wait here”

You sat on the couch and heard him coming down shortly after you touched down on the seat cushion

“got it!”

you sat on the floor and the both of you looked through the box and uncovered dozens of forgotten memories

“Oh my god that was your 12th birthday”Kit said pointing to a photo from 1952

“Look at this one we were babies here!” you pulled out the photo form the small stack

“Kit is that you?” you pointed to a picture of him in a bathtub as a baby

He grabbed it and slid the photo under the couch

“No uh- thats my cousin. You won’t see him much because he’s- twice removed? Yeah”

“Yeah sure. don’t be embarrassed you were cute”

“Yeah whatever” he rolled his eyes

“It’s so crazy that we’ve known each other literally since we were born” you say still looking at the pictures

“Well technically…i’m older by a month so since you were born” Kit whispers

“You’re only older because you were born premature” you patted him on the back while getting up to go to the couch

He got up to sit next to you and turned on the tv for background noise

He scooted in closer to you and eventually you found that he had his arm wrapped around you and you were falling asleep

“hey it’s only 4:15, wake up” he tapped your shoulder

“Yeah i know- i just went to bed super late last night and i-“

“No it’s fine- do you want me to drive you home i could use the extra one we have”

“no i uh- i like it here it’s quiet, plus i can’t sleep now. I won’t be able to make it to school tomorrow”

“y/n. Its Friday ?”

“Oh.yeah well still”

“Okay nevermind” kit faintly laughed

You got up to get a snack as you hadn’t eaten for quite some time,then went right back to the couch

You sat crossed on the floor, looking right at the pictures on the wall

You observed all of them, specifically just seeing how much he’s changed over the years

He suddenly spoke out of nowhere

“Hey, so you heard about that senior ball the schools havin in a couple weeks”

“Yeah what about It?”

“You uh- planning on going”

“Probably, I just don’t really have anyone to go with”

“If you want, I could take you. I- I mean it doesn’t have to be like as a date or anything we could’ve go as friends if you wa-“

You hugged him and stopped him from saying anything else

“Thank you so much kit,I didn’t wanna have to go alone.And… yes we could go as a date ”

“Really?” He scratched his neck

You nodded and looked at him for a while, contemplating what you were going to do

You kissed him, out of nowhere

Now, you had just had your first kiss, and he had just had his

It was extremely awkward afterwards, you both just stared at each other and didn’t know what to say

“So uh- what’re we gonna wear” you said, still being in front of him as you were after you kissed him

“ Uhhh- i”

“we could match?” You started to get up to leave

“Yeah, we could match “ he spoke breathily

“I- uh, I gotta go my moms probably worried sick about me it’s”

you look down to check your watch

“7:15!”

“I could drive you and take the spare car? It’s kinda cold out”

“Oh yeah thanks sure “

The short 7 minute drive was quiet but lovely and you couldn’t help but stare at him for the whole car ride

You arrived home and quickly walked to the door

You rang the doorbell and your mom opened the door, she looked pretty pissed but nothing over the top

You turned around and Kit was still there in the car, and your mom moved away from the door

You walked back a little closer to the where his car was and he said “ come by my place tommorow … for school”

You laughed quietly and whispered “yeah for school… goodnight kit”

“Goodnight”

And he drove away into the distance, back to his house

You went to your room, and got ready for bed, and all you could think about was Kit and the wonderful day you had with him. And about the wonderful day you would have with him tomorrow

#kit walker #kit walker x reader #AHS #ahsfx #ahsfanfiction #ahs asylum

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camilliar · 4 years ago

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recs for someone new to omgcp

[February 2021.]

Reading, or not reading, OMGCP fics has come up in a couple of conversations I’ve had recently with artists newish to the fandom (ie. @jovishark; @decafffff), who are making OMGCP art (!!!) but haven’t started exploring fic -- but maybe want to? Which of course reminded me that I’ve never bothered to make an actual, concrete recs list for this fandom. So, I mean. Here is one.

The approach is, what do I think about when I think about OMGCP fanfic? What comes to mind, what stands out to me? I have excluded some very popular fics. Some of these I just don’t think are very good, and others I do think are good, and/or I enjoy them, but I don’t see why you’d need me, specifically, to recommend them. I am thinking of a story like maybe i’m waking up, which I discuss below because I link to a podfic of it. It has a lot of merits, to be sure, but it’s the second-most-read fic in this fandom by hits, and it’s got thousands of comments, and it’s by an author whose work is relatively widely praised and circulated. I am not sure what telling you more about this fic will add to the conversation; if you want to find and read it, you inevitably will. I’m happy to, say, answer asks about these kinds of fics, or talk more generally about them via DM or whatever. Feel free.

Also, I don’t think there’s a point to pretending to be objective about fanfic; this list has a perspective and that perspective is mine. In this fandom I largely read stories that navigate the tension around Jack, Bitty, and Parse, in various permutations. This is not to say that I’ve never read fic about the frogs, or that I have no interest at all in other pairings, but I am by no means an expert on Dex/Nursey and can really only speak to the one fic about them that sticks out to me because it goes beyond being merely Dex/Nursey and does something else. This is just to say that I am sure there are great and interesting fics about other things and ideas--but I’m not the person to hear about those from.

Likewise, I’m not super interested in stories that really reproduce that which is already in OMGCP. I like Zimbits--albeit maybe not in the ways or for the reasons most fans would--but I do not really need to see endless iterations of the same story about them falling in love and being cute together. I don’t think these stories are bad or they shouldn’t exist or that they have no merit by default. Still, I don’t need fanfic to give me more OMGCP. I need fanfic to complicate, to comment on, and to transform OMGCP. Many people don’t work like this! Totally okay! But I can’t rec you fics that do that.

What I have noticed, however, is that over time there appears to have been a shift in how people do write fic for this fandom. (Other than, you know, increases and decreases in activity pending the status of the comic, pairings going in and out of vogue, and so on.) Early on, say during Y1 and Y2, the comic was about the group of friends having a cool time at college together; about whether the burgeoning attraction between Jack and Bitty would manifest and, if so, how; and, especially, Jack’s past coming into fuller view for Bitty and how it would have to be dealt with in order for a relationship between them to work. YMMV on how great the comic executed there, but as Y3 went on these themes increasingly disappeared from the story. I think this means a lot of fic written over 2015-2016 or 2017 has one kind of tone, and was written mostly around these questions; after that, it feels like a new crop of writers and a new crop of ideas started circulating, that is, either embracing Jack and Bitty’s canon relationship and accepting its relative straightforwardness in text--or deconstructing it, imagining what readers aren’t seeing, or how problems not dealt with in the comic would manifest later. People who have read my fic know which of these I’m mainly interested in exploring.

All of which is to say, looking at what I’m reccing here, when the fics were posted or when I first read them probably has a lot to do with why they stick out to me so much. Because there’s no real culture of fanfic criticism--and I mean that in the positivist sense of broad evaluation not explicitly for fault and merit but rather, for context--I think it’s really hard to keep this in mind. But I’m obnoxious and I can’t just be easy about things.

Fic recs

In alphabetical order, somewhat unsorted; if a stand-alone fic has a summary I’ve included it, but in other cases I’ve recced a couple of conceptually related fics or series, which I’ve tried to just describe or explain as opposed to copying the summary off AO3.

There are so many more fanfics I think are great and worth reading! In an ideal world I’d come back and add more later, or create a secondary list that’s more along the lines of “if you like this, read these,” or whatever. But, being realistic, this is a starter kit. I’m open to talking about fanfic.

- - - - - - - - - - -

7-0-2 by Idday; Friends in Low Places and Sorry for the Blood in Your Mouth; I Wish it was Mine by blue_rocket_frost | I’m not sure it would be correct to say that I don’t like Parse/Tater, or that I’m not interested in Parse/Tater. I’m not interested in Patater a priori; I think it could be interesting, with teeth. These fics stick out to me when I think about this pairing, because they feel different. Accusations of a preference for just linking any two white men who happen to be hanging around have validity, but because of what hockey is and how it works and who’s hanging around it, it’s not exactly a leap to imagine what kind of gritty spark the friction between two closeted NHL players would create. A little violence in your sex? A little sex in your violence.

A Sight Worth Seeing by sadtomato | A four-fic Jack/Bitty/Shitty/Lardo explicit BDSM series. Either you want that or you don’t. It’s nothing hardcore, and not properly a four-way, really; more properly a kind of voyeuristic round-robin. There’s a more open and egalitarian view of sex here than I really get from the characters in the back end of the comic. It’s an expansive, propulsive view of sex and relationships that’s really nice to see. I love Lardo's detached coolness, and Bitty as a smooth operator; if you’re looking for some kind of Dom/sub dynamics world, this really isn’t it, but it’s a lively exploration into the sexual dynamics in a group of friends that’s super close to the good-times vibe you get from Haus scenes in the first couple years of extras.

call me son (one more time) by Summerfrost, Verbyna, and blithelybonny | This is a series, incomplete, and you will love it or be massively put off by it. I mean that as a compliment. I love it. The premise is, Bob Zimmermann and Kent Parson have been having sex since Kent was, like, 19. Everyone in this story has been chewed up: by themselves, by each other, by hockey. Plainly, this is a pretty bleak view of what OMGCP, as a story, is supposedly offering. If you want fic that is dark and glamorous, treading the toxic melange of substance abuse, sex-as-sublimation, and so much money you can’t possibly throw all of it away without trying, this series has that sick-inducing shimmer to it. But, again, its strength is its examination of Kent Parson, textually and meta-textually, as someone to be projected onto. Bob, Alicia, Jack, and Bitty all impute certain feelings of their own onto him, displacing their own issues to a character who’s centralized in every fic but defies neat or total comprehension. Some critiques I’ve read of this series feel it’s too dark, and I’ve also seen it argued on FFA that an overwhelming amount of praise heaped onto these stories has made it tough for other writers to make headway in writing Bob/Kent fic. But I’m also not sure you could engage with Bob/Kent fic without going down this road at some point? I’m sure there are ways to scale it back, but ultimately it’s a story about how hockey’s violent, homophobic, old-guard gatekeeping has continued to set the terms for a younger and ostensibly less toxic culture. I fully embrace PWP fics that tread on the power dynamic without fully excavating it, but buried within any PWP is the fact that a 53-year-old man is ensnaring a 19-year-old, no matter how much the latter is, realistically, into it, and legally empowered to consent. Not to mention the dynamics of it being a 53-year-old man who is the father of the 19-year-old’s ex-boyfriend, and a 53-year-old man who is an eminence grise in the field the 19-year-old is trying to make a career in The sexual element--the vaguely incestuous nature of it--is making textual the subtext of how hockey works, actually: objectification of teenage bodies as older men’s capital.

Coach Z by thistidalwave | Just before the 2009 NHL Entry Draft, tp prospect Jack Zimmermann overdoses on his anxiety medication and is admitted to rehab. His future turns from a clear-cut road to the top into an uncertain path filled with therapy appointments, ignored text messages, a group of boys who aren't there to teach him a lesson about himself, and, of course, hockey. | I keep reccing this fic because it has 360 comments on AO3 but nobody, as far as I can tell, has ever read it; it never appears on rec lists. This isn’t the kind of fanfic I usually go in for, but I can’t help being charmed by it. This is a character study in the truest sense, a kind of Mighty Ducks-but-better view on what Jack’s time coaching peewee hockey might have been like. I have no interest in kids and my own aesthetic is maybe a little darker than this, but I admire this story because it injects vibrancy into a period of Jack’s life that OMGCP has left largely unexplored, and so has the fandom. We know nothing about what made Jack want to go to college, nothing about how he spent his days in between juniors and Samwell. It posits a very sympathetic and patient Jack/Parse dynamic, showcasing the exact kind of ragged teenage push-and-pull that would have led to the circumstances we see in Parse I-III. The outside perspective Jack needs is largely present in an OFC who’s not a love interest. Super unique, somehow both engrossing and low-key.

#dirtbags by angularmomentum | A series that is a Kent Parson/Claude Giroux fuckfest with feelings. I’ve long suspected that Parse is popular in part because he is the character who most easily elides OMGCP with the actual NHL, or rather, NHL fandom; I think he made it appealing to write OMGCP fics where the NHL is a factor. Case in point, this series, which is basically “what if Kent Parson was a real hockey player and therefore part of NHL RPS”? I have only read some NHL RPS, so I’m not the person to assess accuracy, but what I do know is superstar IRL hockey players take turns here as the caricature fanfic versions of themselves, and since Kent Parson is already that, it’s great how seamlessly he integrates into their social fabric. Rambunctious energy peppered with regret and loss, but ultimately this series is farcical, and it doesn’t take its sentimental ending too seriously--which, good.

fated to pretend by nighimpossible | 5 Jack/Kent fics that Ransom and Holster dramatically reenact for the Haus + the truth. | As a fic format, 5+1 doesn’t usually work for me, but this one isn’t just front-loaded with five too-knowing vignettes; it then wraps up by using its +1 better than you might expect. Sometimes I talk about economy of fic, and this one exemplifies it. A zero-waste fic.

go ahead and move along by originally | "Leave, Parse," Jack says. Again. Or: Kent finds himself stuck in a time loop. | Kent Parson is trapped in a Groundhog Day scenario on the day of Epikegster. I’m sure you can imagine, just from that, what happens. And yet I think this fic is super entertaining, reserving some key surprises. What this story is doing is something a lot, and perhaps even the majority, of great Jack/Parse fic wants to do: digging into the question of just why this can’t work in comic canon. Most often this is approached from the past, by writing teenage Jack/Parse deep-dives that examine their lives mid-juniors, or by writing AUs where enough circumstances are shifted that it does work, or via future fics that posit enough growth has happened, and enough things have changed. But this fic makes Parse live the same bad day again and again, testing multiple theories about just how dependent on circumstance and incident real life actually is. Another day, another tone, 10 minutes sooner, not at all--you just can’t know why it didn’t work until you exhaust every possible variable. I worry that this rec has sucked the life out of the story, though--it’s so fun!

I Saw a Life and Strange Lovers by @bluegrasshole | Most AUs in this fandom seem to retell the story in a new setting or with some big detail change, following OMGCP’s rhythm beat-for-beat. I think of this as, “It’s the plot of Check, Please, but” -- they’re doing high school football? They’re acrobats? They’re a/b/o? They’re in a DIY punk band? And so on. These two stories are not that! They’re both 1950s AUs, each deeply felt, and yet hugely different from each other. I Saw a Life is about displacement and fragmentation, two sides of a similar but incongruent social critique; Strange Lovers is a finely wrought social drama about coal mining in Nova Scotia in the 1950s, centered around historical events. I suppose a theme on this rec list is something like, “I don’t even like this, but” -- yes, okay, I don’t even like Dex/Nursey, but--! This fic is so overwhelmingly complete, the AU laid out so carefully that the story breathes with all the background details informing the writing that aren’t actually, in the story; you just know they’re below the surface. (With the exception of one investigation of Jack’s character in a short, separate fic.) I Saw a Life, meanwhile, really tests the limits of the notion that Jack and Bitty are soulmates--not by calling it into question but by asking, rather innovatively, how the setting and place of the comic itself activates that.

Les Hivers de mon enfance by staranise | What do you do when hockey is the language of prayer for your soul, and also the toxic thing that almost killed you? 2009: Jack Zimmermann takes a mental health year. God knows he needs it. | Here’s a fic by someone who’s no longer around so much, but she felt ubiquitous in 2016-2019 OMGCP fandom. Before any of that, though, she wrote this one lovely fic about Jack’s pre-Samwell recovery. The author is Canadian and really irritated by hockey culture, and I think this fic benefits greatly because she is clear-eyed about Jack’s being caught in an exploitative system; it’s hockey he’s in recovery for, in a way. There’s an epistolary element that works for me, too. I read this early on in my time in OMGCP fandom and it really stuck with me.

Lysistrata? I Hardly Know Her! (by which I mean everything) by @tomatowrites | It feels somehow like cheating to recommend OMGCP fanfics by my OMGCP BFF with whom I make an OMGCP podcast where we talk about OMGCP. You know the fics I really want to rec, like truly the ones that speak to some kind of shared depravity, are the ones where Jack is miserably mpreg for the second time and accidentally lets his kid see Kent Parson’s Long John Silver’s shrimp scampi promo spot, which obviously would get twisted into a self-hating three-way. How many times do I have to rec this fic? As many as I need to, is my feeling. If you don’t know, Long John Silver’s is an American fast-food chain that sells, like, fried pollock sandwiches; it is nautical-themed; I have never eaten there; I don’t know where there is one; I don’t eat fried fish. (Shrimp, on the other hand?) All of which is to say that it takes a real genius to investigate a premise that far out. And while a lot of people almost certainly will start reading this humanity’s depths-themed sex scene and back the fuck out, readers with refined taste will note that Kent, the point-of-view character, is right there with you, despairing that he can’t help himself. And so long as you’re in that story collection, honestly, you’ll love petite gems like Jack is transmasc, Jack and Shitty play hockey in 18th-century England, and oh, right, he’s from Georgia. Tomato holds the distinction of being probably the gamest author I know in this fandom, just really like fearless in her pursuit of any range of concept she’s pushed to. (I can push her to?) See, for example, a sublime bandom AU; Bitty is cancelled for buying a maybe-unethically exported Roman fragment of a youth’s torso; or, god, the masterwork that is this future fic series where Jack keeps relapsing and Bitty exiles him to their guesthouse. Do I think you need to read a fic where Bitty is snide about the teen prostitute whose baby they’re adopting? Yes, I mean, he would be snide, don’t tell me he wouldn’t. I could go on, but my main thing here is, if I have to pick just one, I’m going to pick this Lysistrata fic. The premise, literally, is that Bitty reads the Lysistrata and it gives him ideas. Like most of Tomato’s OMGCP fic, it’s a stripping away of the comic’s polite fiction that Jack and Bitty could possibly attain the ideal it reaches in the comic without some kind of messy, efflusive breakdown. Life is like that, you see! Tricky. Like a lot of people, although it’s tough to say precisely how many, I have always intuited that maybe Bitty is kind of a natural top? But obviously when you meet him, as a literal virgin, it’s hard to see how he’d go from zero to self-actualization so neatly. This fic floats a theory, and it has a fun little side plot for Whiskey, something I never thought about or needed before Tomato built it out herein. In conclusion, BONUS: Dex’s gay lobster novel.

only fools rush in and the light of all lights by decinq | This person wrote of the nature of the wound, one of the early, formative Jack/Bitty fics that was oft-recced when I was getting into the fandom in 2016. It forms part of a larger series that deals deeply with how Jack has been shaped by his struggles (? I hate this word) with homophobia and his own mental health. It’s a picture of the character as you might have imagined him much earlier in the comic’s run. The formatting is atrocious and he author’s flair is what Tomato would call “AO3 house style.” It’s a voice that works great for her writing. I think it’s at its best in these shorter fics; the former is about Parse and Shitty stumbling into a relationship almost accidentally; the latter, an eerie PBJ vampire fic. I had begun writing a fic where Parse is a vampire early on in this fandom, only to read this and immediately quit, because you only need one, and this one’s all I need. The Parse/Shitty rare pair fic shares its exuberance with hockey RPS when it’s good: here’s how fun it can be when you’re young, rich, and jocular. And I don’t even like accidental marriage AUs, they’re usually boring, so that says a lot. By all means, read the wound fic; read the entire series. But these are highly unusual.

OVERDOSE and Oomph and a little spin-o-rama by jedusaur | None of these are long, or plotty, and they’re all a little experimental. OVERDOSE is an AU set in a world where you know how you’ll die, but no details; Oomph, a little fic where Jack hears hockey pucks talking to him. This is the kind of stuff I used to think I’d find in fandom forever, coming out of Lotrips lurking in the 2000s: short, zany bursts of energy that surprise and delight. a little spin-o-rama peers at Kent’s character through the grim reality of being the hypertalented superstar stuck on a dead-last team. All three are sparse and stylish in a way that’s really smart, practically economical.

Sowing Season by @agrossunderstatement | Parse and Zimms, Zimms and Parse. Kent Parson's life, from the Q, through his early years with the Aces, to Jack's senior year. Canon divergent. A story of love, loss, moving on, regressing, hockey, and found families of all kinds. | Effectively a novel, digging into Kent’s personal history, mostly concerning his life in juniors but expanding into his present, overlapping with the plot of OMGCP. I think there is room enough for endless speculations on what went down pre-canon; this one offers a fuller life for Kent than nearly any others, digging into him as a whole person rather than as a satellite to Jack or the plot of the comic. Which isn’t to say that the Kent/Jack stuff isn’t dealt with here; it explicitly is. But the fact of Kent Parson’s life, if we can begin to imagine it beyond mere text, would exist before, after, and alongside Jack; he gets to juniors without Jack, presumably, and he is the captain of a hockey team without Jack, and Pinkerton lays the foundation of Parse’s character within a junior hockey that Jack also inhabits, more so that Parse existing for Jack, so to speak. And I’m not implying this latter tactic is wrong; I have certainly employed it, and others have employed it to great impact and effect. But, still, the title of this series tells you what you ought to know: Kent and his story are the potentiality of OMGCP, up to a point; seeds being planted. Young hockey players, similarly. The question implied there is, what will be reaped? And the answer to the latter, in a sense, that reaping is a sort of violence. Which makes this series sound pretty heavy, but it’s not -- more like, realistic.

(tell everyone) you were a good wife by @queerofcups | The biggest problem with pretending that he doesn’t know that Kent Parson is fucking his husband is that Jack can’t tell Kent how grateful he is. | The ne plus ultra of PBJ triangulation; I’ve been squealing to the writer about how good it is since August, begging for behind-the-scenes insights, and I’d only do that if I really meant it. The precarious social fabric stretched across these three chapters is fraying before the reader’s eyes. The details are delicious, and I don’t want to spoil them, but they sing in chorus with the plot. My favorite OMGCP fics, honestly, remove the romance narrative guardrails that keep things in the comic itself humming along. I think Dann’s take is to ask who in this comic has power and what they would end up doing with it. (Or not doing, from another angle.) At one point, early on in its telling, OMGCP looked like it was going to be a story dealing with the compounded traumas of hockey’s discontents. Then, of course, it wasn’t. This is a fic that steps back and asks what the fallout of that oversight would be. But that’s just the moldering core of this fanfic; it’s actually embroidered, like I said, with glittering detail. The color of the suit Bitty wears to his wedding is burned into my brain. The gray manicure of a woman Jack knows. The ingredients in a cake. This is one of those fics I still haven’t reviewed because the thought of stacking everything I could say about it into mere AO3 comments is inadequate.

when you’re ready by megancrtr | The Aces’ director of communications gets the call at 3:13 a.m. Jack Zimmermann has withdrawn from the draft. | “What happened at the draft�� is so mythological it gets asked in the comic proper, and I’ve never counted how many fics attempt to answer this question--from Kent’s point of view, even--but it’s gotta be, oh, hundreds. This story replays the situation from the perspective of an Aces staffer who just wants to do her job, and gets at the jarring discordance between the plot of OMGCP in its quest for social justice and the business of actual hockey. Important context is that this story was written around the time the comic was playing out the end of Y3 and start of Y4, and Bitty pointedly asked Jack the question, “why can’t we?” This story reframes the question as literal, rather than rhetorical. A sterling example of fanfic being a gloss on its source.

BONUS, podfics

hockeyed up | There are many things on Jack's mind. Namely: hockey, hockey, Bitty, hockey, anxiety, hockey, hockey, anxiety, Bitty, hockey, hockey, anxiety, and hockey. | A fic read aloud by its French-Canadian author. Also a relatively early OMGCP fanfic; composed while the first semester of Y2 was posting, the story suggests a version of OMGCP that was in some ways more and in other ways less complex than what it would turn into not long after. The real power of this podfic, however, is that it’s read by the writer, so you can hear the intended emphasis in every line. Also, because she’s French-Canadian, Sophie’s intonation is what I picture when I read or write dialogue for Jack.

maybe i’m waking up | It’s almost funny. All he ever wanted was to play hockey, to play in the NHL, to win the Cup. This—Samwell, the team, the Haus—was supposed to be just a detour, but now it feels more like a destination he failed to realize he’s already reached.(Or: Jack signs with the Falconers, graduates, and leaves. It's the hardest thing he's ever done. What comes after is even harder.) | Don’t get too excited; this isn’t finished. A podfic of probably the best-known, most-recced fic in OMGCP fandom. Striking for its use of metatext woven into the story, this is one of several early longform Jack/Bitty fics that posits that maybe Jack has a lot more development to undergo before he can really, truly, be okay--or be okay enough to be with Bitty? To be honest, this story strikes me now as too long, but the parts in it that work are effective beyond that which fanfic demands. Meanwhile, this audio version only covers six chapters, but it’s so slick, so well-realized, so true to the story. Podfic as art.

my own dear friends | Ever since the day he met Jack Zimmermann, Shitty has seen it as his solemn duty to aggressively love him. (He just didn't know how aggressive the love Jack needed would be.) | There’s previous little Jack/Shitty in this fandom and a lot less quality BDSM,

the city’s ours until the fall | Kent has been, historically, good at this—forgetting about things until suddenly he doesn’t, and then it’s like the scar has never been there in the first place, just the wound. (Or: Kent Parson lets himself be happy, after all this time.) | I’ve never read this fic and I never will. I cannot imagine how, no matter how good it is, it could compare to the version that lives in my head, with Kent’s voice so totally realized. Vocal fry and pathos, a languid energy that I still think about when I think about Parse.

the model home | It’s going to be better, and that’s great, but sometimes Jack thinks, why can’t it be good right now? | j/k j/k, this is a self-reminder to finally one day review this.

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

a kindness.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it is loving megan kane hours!! i’ve been working on this one for a while and i am so excited to share it with you!! we have ajf!pleasure is my business at last! as always, tell me what you think!! i adore your feedback. also, if you’re thinking ‘what the hell, tali! why am i missing from the tag list?????’ it’s because i redid it! the link to the form is below.

words: 4.8k warnings: language, canon-typical death, canon-typical discussion of sex work

summary: “i believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.” ― steve martin. au!february 2009

a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You rap twice on the office door before pushing it open with your fingertips, peering inside while ready to retreat at a moment’s notice.

There’s no need. Aaron’s alone.

“You’re here early,” he says, his eyes still on his paperwork.

You snort. “So are you.”

He looks at you over his nose. “Can I help you with something?”

Sitting down opposite him at his desk, you prop your chin on your hands and grin at him. “You stole my line.”

“Get out of my office.”

Your smile stays plastered on your face as you stand and cross the room, closing the door behind you. On your way out, you catch the ghost of his smile.

+++

You watch Hotch leave the bullpen, his go-bag slung over his shoulder.

“Where you headed?” You ask, looking up. You’re still the only one in the bullpen, taking a few consults off your teammates’ hands by typing up quick briefs they can review without going through every single comma in the file.

He sighs. “Dallas.”

Yikes.

“By yourself?”

He sighs. “Standby - not sure what’s going on yet. Can you -” He gestures to the hallway behind you.

You nod and stand. “Yeah. Fly safe.”

After you watch him leave, you turn and make a beeline for JJ’s office. She’s here early, too - pushing away the separation anxiety by diving into work.

“Jayje?”

She looks away from her computer, looking exhausted. “Yeah?”

“Hotch just left for Dallas - we might have a case there, but it didn’t sound like something that would come across your desk.”

She squints. “Why d’you say that?”

“He had that look on his face like he was going into a room full of lawyers.”

+++

You lean forward, jamming yourself into the circle around the table with the rest of your team. Hotch, on the other end of the line, sounds oddly well-rested.

Spencer, as usual, gives you the history and textbook briefing before you get to the actual case. “Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies.”

“Because there’s no sexual gratification when a woman kills,” Derek adds.

Looks like we’re all getting in on the pre-brief today.

“Exactly. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra.”

That makes you laugh a little. “So, basically, women are more efficient at killing?”

Spencer shrugs. “Historically, they’ve had body counts in the hundreds.”

Hotch, of course, is the one to get you all back on track. “So, assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?”

Derek, of course, is the first to follow. “Money, drugs, post-traumatic stress disorder…”

The team bounces for a moment, covering previous cases of serial killers with a history of sex work. Emily brings up Allison Wuornos, but Aaron shuts it down. He thinks this killer is organized, not so much driven by trauma or need but the mission itself.

Spencer looks at the medical examiner’s reports again, comparing notes between the victims. “She’s using tetra-methylene-disulfotetramine.”

You don’t look up from the same report. “Bless you.”

Emily snorts.

Spencer continues, unperturbed. “It’s a popular rat poison in China - easily soluble in alcohol.”

“Poison is the perfect M.O.,” Dave notes. “Quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they’re getting lucky.” He turns back toward the phone. “Does that mean something to you?”

“Well, at $10,000 a night, these men are paying for discretion as well as sex.”

Fair point.

“She has a history with them. They see her repeatedly.”

You look over at Dave, trying to find the thread that connects Aaron’s thought to his.

Before you can really get to it yourself, Aaron spells it out for you. “She didn't decide to kill them in the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them and she's doing it before she sleeps with them.”

There we go.

“So she's not just organized,” you add. “She's also methodical. Could she be parsing out which clients are worth killing and which aren’t?”

“Maybe the victims all share the same fetish?” Emily offers.

Derek shrugs, his eyebrows raised in thoughtful agreement. “Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible. Careful about their image. I mean, if they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it.”

“And we're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out.”

There’s the exhaustion I’m used to from Hotch.

He sounds weird without it.

“Actually,” JJ says, “I had some luck there. Hoyt Ashford's wife isn't too happy with how he died. But because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement.”

JJ pulls the statement from her file and reads aloud: “Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.” She puts it down again. “They're already trying to close ranks.”

Spencer frowns. “Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“The press release from the first victim.” He recalls, not needing the paper itself. “‘According to company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home.’”

Hotch begins to make assignments, directing Emily and Derek to the wife of the second victim. JJ’s tasked with the lawyers and you’re tasked with setup at the precinct with Spencer and Dave. When he’s done, you pick your phone up from the table, taking him off speaker.

“What are you gonna do?” You ask.

Hotch snorts. “I’m gonna see which of the lawyers calls us back and in the meantime, see what I can get out of anyone else.”

“Good luck.”

+++

You’re up in your hotel room, getting a little bit settled and unpacked when you get a call to your cell.

“Hey, Hotch.”

There’s a sigh. “We got another body.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”

+++

You hop out of the car, following Aaron through the service entrance and up the back hallways to the lobby. Between your travel from your room and Aaron’s wrap-up in his, Derek and Dave beat you to the scene.

Hotch is wearing that coat - your favorite, the one he’s apparently had for years - with the red lining and the soft wool exterior. It so rarely sees the field anymore you were afraid he’d done away with it, but every time you remember it exists and worry about its whereabouts, he brings it out again.

Derek hands you a notebook when you reach him. You settle near Dave for the rest of the info. He, of course, delivers.

“Victim was Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here.”

You frown. “Poisoned? Like the others?”

“And staged,” Derek says. “She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found.”

“The lipstick's new,” you muse, circling the body in the elevator. “Done postmortem, it looks like.” You find Derek’s eyes with a little frown. “Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable.”

He hums. “Now she wants to be noticed.”

There’s some kind of scuffle at the police line - another man in a suit who thinks he’s more important than God.

Hopefully he’s looking for Hotch.

“Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?”

Ugh. Good.

You step back and point at Aaron, getting out of his way as he shoves past the crime scene techs.

Aaron turns. “I'm Hotchner.”

“Larry Bartlett.” The man holds out his hand, but Aaron doesn’t take it. He retracts his hand with an unperturbed tilt of his head. “I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries.

Hotch, as usual, has no time for his bullshit. “This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett.”

My lawyer could kick your lawyer’s ass.

That’s a good bumper sticker.

You shake off your thought and return to the victim, directing one of the younger crime scene techs. After a moment, you return to Derek’s side.

“Yes. I spoke to Ellen Daniels.” This clown still sounds far too confident for his own good. “She said you're a very... reasonable man.”

“Escort him out, please.”

You stifle a laugh.

“No, wait. Please.” The lawyer - Mr. Bartlett - shrugs off the security team and chases after Hotch on his way to your side.

Aaron stops, but looks inconvenienced in the extreme.

“The press is outside and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?”

“We're not about to lie for you.” Derek’s even less amused than Aaron, if that’s even possible.

Aaron squints at the other lawyer, and you find it nearly impossible to tear your gaze from the little pinch at the corners of his brown eyes.

You can only imagine him behind a prosecutor’s bench, laying into witnesses with the same deadpan amusement - like a bored cat with a half-dead mouse. Hoping to back him up a little bit, you get a little closer, looking skeptically at the lawyer from over Aaron’s shoulder.

“You don't have to lie,” Mr. Bartlett insists, his eyes flickering to you. “Just don't comment.”

“Excuse us.” He takes you by the shoulder and leads the three of you into a huddle.

“Is there any reason to go public yet?” Aaron asks.

Dave wavers. “Validating her is exactly what she wants.”

“If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake,” Derek says.

You raise your eyebrows, looking over your shoulder for a moment. “He doesn't need to know that.”

Hotch’s mouth twitches, and you know it’s almost a smile. He turns over his shoulder, back in game mode as he approaches Bartlett again. “We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails, everything.”

+++

“Eighteen cars, six houses, and three boats.” Spencer rattles off the numbers with only the barest hint of shock in his voice.

Your brow pinches and you look up. “Can you even boat in Dallas?”

“You know, when you're talking about that much money, ten grand for a call girl is like deciding where to go for dinner.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Em,” you laugh.

She rolls her eyes, still pinning photos to the board. “Yeah, right. My mom had a pretty cushy gig with her postings, but we were never that well-off. But...” She looks over her shoulder, “I’m sure Rossi would know a little something about that.”

Before you can all get too out of control, Hotch reaches over you to connect to Garcia on the speakerphone. “Are you there, Garcia?”

“Affirmative.”

JJ flags him down. “I have half a million over here for something called the Bat Cave...”

It really takes everything in you not to laugh.

“...and here's a picture of him as fetish Batman. That is… wrong.”

Emily pulls a face.

“Is there anything this guy didn't like to spend money on?” Spencer asks.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “His ex-wives. Fielding was married four times. He didn't have prenups for the first two, but he did everything he could to cut them off anyway.”

You lean forward, trying to see the paper in his hands. “Are there children involved?”

“Yes, with three of the wives.” He hands it over to you and looks at Emily. “Hoyt Ashford was married a few times, too, wasn't he?”

She nods in the affirmative.

“You know, considering that when Kevin takes me to dinner and a movie, he defaults on his student loans, this amount of money is sick.”

Tell me about it, Pen.

Emily sounds resigned. “What did you find?”

Garcia outlines a series of bitter court battles about child support, alimony, custody, etc. “And even when the court ruled in the wife’s favor - which was almost always - these three charmers just, you know, decided not to pay.”

Hotch asks for a cross-checked list of high-profile Dallas CEOs holding out on their ex-wives, and you figure it’s not a short one.

“One loaded losers list, Dallas edition, comin' at ya. Penelope out.”

The line goes dead and Aaron turns off the speaker.

“So,” Aaron leans heavily on the table. “Why would a prominent businessman who could easily pay child support refuse to?”

Spencer obliges. “For this type of overachieving personality, paying money after the marriage ends probably offends him.”

“They're spending tens of thousands on an escort, but they won't drop a dime on their wife and kids? That's cold.” JJ shakes her head and looks over at Hotch, seeking an answer.

“Narcissistic, self-absorbed, a pathological avoidance of paternal responsibilities.”

There’s an odd kind of look that passes over Aaron’s face as he speaks, and you pin it for later. You can already tell he’s falling into a headspace that’s fraught with comparison and self-loathing.

They bounce around for a moment while you keep your eyes on Aaron.

“Well,” JJ brings you back. “Should I assemble the police for a profile?”

Your mouth twists. “I just don't think it's gonna help.”

“She lives in a completely different world than they do,” Aaron adds.

“And,” Emily pipes up, “the CEOs who sleep with her won't admit to it.”

JJ snorts. “Like I couldn't even get past the team of lawyers protecting them.”

“What if we give the profile to the corporate lawyers?” Aaron stands straight, his hands resting on his hips. “They've cleaned up after her, even if they don't realize that they've seen this woman.”

“Why would they go for that?” You ask.

“Because she's putting them at risk, too.”

Your phone rings and you answer as you always do, chirping your last name into the receiver without really looking too closely at the caller ID.

“Hey, it’s me.”

You nod once to your team as you step out of earshot. “Hey, Haley.”

“I can’t get a hold of Aaron. Is everything alright?” She’s beyond surprise or concern at this point. You’re sure you could tell her Aaron’s been shot in the head and she’d probably just hum at you.

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh. “Things are crazy and there are lawyers all wrapped up in this. Are you alright?”

“Jack’s got a fever - I just wanted to let Aaron know I’m taking him in to get checked out. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll let him know. Give Jack a big kiss from me and I’ll do my best to get us all home quickly and in one piece.”

She laughs a little into the phone. “Thanks. Will do. Talk soon.”

You hang up and return to the table, shooting Hotch a significant look. He nods and pulls you aside.

“What’s up?”

“Jack has a fever - Haley just wanted me to let you know she’s taking him to the pediatrician to get him all checked out, just in case. I told her we’d all do our best to get home soon.”

Aaron sighs and flips his phone in his hand. “I’ll call her now…”

“No need. She knows this is a tough one and you’re getting your money’s worth out of your JD this week.”

When he starts to walk away, you call his name again. He turns.

“You know - um.” You wet your lips and swallow. “You’re not like these guys. You know that, right? You’re a great dad.”

His face lifts in surprise for a fraction of a second before he recovers.

“Thank you,” He says. “Really.”

You offer him a crooked smile. “Anytime.”

+++

Hotch stops you all before you enter the conference room, full to the brim with suits and pantsuits. “Let me lead on this one. I’ve handled corporate lawyers like this before and they can smell blood.” He snorts. “This time, it’s their own.”

You and Derek raise your hands in simultaneous and identical postures of surrender.

“Have at it,” you say, falling into line behind Aaron. “Corporate lawyers scare the fuck out of me.”

+++

“Hey, Prentiss. Got a whip?” Derek holds the leather outfit to Emily’s shoulders and she laughs.

“Yeah, right.”

You fondly roll your eyes at them and continue following off Aaron’s right shoulder. The two of you reach the bookshelf - an impressive glass case that runs from the floor to the ceiling.

Aaron’s gloved finger opens the case and runs over some of the spines. “Antique first editions on the bookshelves.”

Rossi quips something about porn in the DVD player while Spencer espouses about the merits of a disposable, adaptable lifestyle in this line of work.

“Well, these aren't just for show,” Aaron says. “The spines are cracked. Somebody's read these.”

You peer over his shoulder. “Who reads Voltaire in French?”

“Someone with good taste. Probably well-educated…”

You pick up where he trails off. “We profiled that she learned to fake privilege. What if she's not faking it?”

“You're saying maybe she came from money the whole time?”

You shrug. “It’s a possibility, at least.”

Just then, the apartment phone rings.

“Prentiss should answer,” Aaron says. “If it's a customer, she'll get more information out of them.”

You hum, hedging your bets a little. ‘Unless she's calling in for her messages.”

Too late. Derek’s already on the phone with Penelope. “Yeah, Baby Girl, we're getting a call to this line. Can you work some magic?”

“I don't have a trap-and-trace in place yet. Give me a few. I'm gonna stay on the line.”

Aaron gives her the go-ahead. “Prentiss, get ready to vamp.”

The voicemail picks it up before Emily can so much as reach for the phone.

“Hi, it's me. You know what to do.” Beep.

“...Aaron.”

You turn your head so fast you throw your neck out. You raise a hand to the crick and work it with your fingers. Aaron’s too busy frowning at the phone to notice.

“I know you're up there. Pick up… Aaron Hotchner... Hello?” She drags out her words, almost flirting with everyone listening.

With a sigh, Aaron pushes past the rest of you, silently counts to three, and picks up the phone while Emily clicks the speakerphone button.

“I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, But I don't know yours. Can we start there?”

Nice start.

The game has begun.

“I thought I could trust you, Aaron.”

What?

The pinch between his brows deepens. “Who says you can't?”

“I want to. I even looked you up online. Is that strange?”

Yes.

“No.” Aaron wets his lips and begins to pace, the gears whirring in his head. “It's flattering to be noticed by a woman like you.”

The woman continues as if he hasn’t said anything at all. “And I thought you were so... upstanding. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings. I found it posted on YouTube...”

She has good taste. That’s an excellent presentation.

“...And for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world.”

“But I've disappointed you, haven't I?” He asks. “Just like all the other men in your life Who've walked out on their families, Who deserve to be punished.”

“Did you walk out on your family?”

His eyes flicker to you and you nod, nearly imperceptibly, reminding him he’s not alone. “No. My wife left me.”

“Do you have kids?”

“I have a son.”

A sweet, thoughtful, perfect son.

You smile a little, thinking of Jack, but it disappears when you remember that he’s home sick with Haley, probably having a miserable time.

“How often do you see him?” She asks.

“I try to see him every week.”

“Do you see him every week?” The question is mocking, smothered in dark amusement that could almost be called sarcasm save for its bitterness.

“No,” Aaron’s eyes fall to the floor. “No, I don't get there as often as I want.”

“I believe you.” Her response is softer, and you think she might make a decent profiler if she wasn’t on the other side.

She is a profiler.

In some ways, you suppose it’s true. She has to read and respond to everything her clients do, say, how they behave. It makes her good at her job and you good at yours.

Same skillset, very different application.

“But don't compare yourself to the men I see,” she continues. “You are nothing like them. You're just another whore.”

Never in my life did I ever think I’d hear someone call Aaron Hotchner a whore. Unironically.

That catches everyone’s attention, even Derek’s, still on hold with Penelope.

“How am I a whore?” He asks.

“You come when called. You do their bidding. In hotels you take the side elevator to avoid crowds, while the men who pay your salary walk across the ivory marble foyer into their cars.”

Derek, behind you, presses. “Garcia.”

You can hear her, faintly. “I'm in on the landline. Triangulating the cell. Give me like sixty seconds.”

You gesture to Aaron when he looks. Keep going.

He nods. “But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?”

She sighs, sounding a little impatient for the first time. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you want to show the world all these bad men and my investigation's just getting in your way.”

“No, Aaron.” You almost startle, her tone escalating to a deeply frustrated shout. “You're not doing your job! You don't want to arrest me, you don't want me in custody because you're in their pocket.”

She’s crying now, actively. “You just want me to disappear, just like they do.”

“Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you.”

Now that’s a tone you recognize - you’ve heard it when he talks to Haley. Most recently, when he couldn’t make it to some appointment or another. It’s one that’s disarming in the extreme, soft, but not condescending.

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying. You know that's going to continue.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Am I right?”

Just like Haley always does, the woman loses steam, sniffling once before answering. “Yeah.”

“Come to me and turn yourself in. I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear.”

“If we met under different circumstances... I could believe that. I won't let you cover this up.”

A gunshot rings through the line and you flinch, turning to Derek just as the line goes dead. You know Penelope will have something for you soon.

She never fails, directing you to an address only moments after the elevator doors close in front of the team.

+++

Once you found Megan Kane, it was easy enough to find her father.

You could empathize with her mission well enough after meeting him. He’s shrouded by his lawyers - detached and seemingly indifferent to anything Aaron had to say.

Aaron starts the car and you settle back into the seat. “So, the wall of lawyers strikes again.”

A shadow of a smile ghosts around the creases at the corners of his eyes. “So it seems.”

“What’s next?”

“We tail him - home and office. He’ll meet with her soon enough.”

Your brow furrows. “Not to protect her, right? It doesn’t seem like he cares that much.”

Aaron turns, placing his hand on the back of your seat as he pulls out of the parking spot. You’re momentarily distracted as he turns back, spinning the wheel with the heel of his hand and gunning it out of the garage.

Focus.

“No,” he says. “Think about it.”

It comes to you only seconds later. “To protect himself.”

“There you go.” He turns to you, another little smile threatening. “You’re getting pretty good at this.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ve been here over a year, Hotch. I’d fucking hope so.”

You’re rewarded with a real smile, and it’s enough.

+++

You take Derek’s six through the hotel, clearing the floors and reporting back to the rest of the team. SWAT is in full deployment, clearing the hard-to-reach areas like the stairways and rooftops, just in case.

Aaron catches up to you, taking the four o’clock position off your left shoulder as Derek breaches the door.

The gun and chilled champagne sit like ironic centerpieces on the entry table, but they hardly use any of your bandwidth as you clear the room, your vision narrowed by the sight of your service weapon.

You hold a hand up when you catch the figure on the balcony. “Hotch.”

He squints, and you move to raise your gun again and make the arrest, but he stops you with a hand over yours. “Easy.”

There’s a question in your eyes.

He, of course, answers it. “She knows it’s over.”

Just then, she places an empty champagne glass on the table where you can see it.

“I’ll call 911,” Derek says, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

You turn to leave with Derek, but catch Aaron’s open hand, subtly signaling you from just under his hip.

Stay here. It says. Stay close.

So, you stay. You lean on the far wall of the hotel room, watching Aaron hold the hand of this dying, hurting woman. They’re speaking softly, and she smiles at him when she drops something into his hand. His eyes are soft, gentle, not even searching. Just warm.

You feel for her.

It’s the best way to go, you think. If there was ever a time you were dying before your time, you’d want Aaron there, holding your hand, telling you he was going to continue the work that killed you, that it was gonna be okay.

“How could your wife have ever left someone like you?” You hear her ask.

As much as you love Haley, the same question often floats through your head, and your heart aches for this woman who’s been able to see Aaron so clearly, even if she’s only seeing him for the first time now.

“You’re the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t let me down.”

You creep forward, further into Aaron’s eyeline, and sit on the edge of the couch. She’s close to her last breath and you can feel it - so can Aaron. His eyes flicker to you for a moment before returning to her.

Megan’s voice is full of tears when she asks, “Will you stay with me?”

You have a feeling it isn’t the first time she’s asked the question and you find yourself hoping Emily will be particularly rough with the handcuffs when she apprehends Mr. Kane. Hopefully he didn’t make it past the checkpoint and is still on-site.

“Yes.” Aaron is solemn, so sincere, so genuine it makes your heart ache.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You’re not even sure he realizes it, but he’s doing her a great kindness - one that many would not offer.

It’s because he is good.

A good man.

The tension drains out of her, and she grips tightly to Aaron’s hand as she fights through her final breaths. His hands are gentle, his attention only on her. He looks more like a father in this moment than any other time you’ve known him. She’s safe. She knows she can die in peace.

Once more, you hope you have the opportunity to leave this plane of reality in such safety, when your time comes.

When she’s gone, he places her hand in her lap and takes a moment to brush the hair off of her face, pressing the back of his fingers to her temple as if checking her for fever.

After a minute or so, he turns to you, and you hope the pride and respect coursing through you is evident in your gaze. You pull an evidence bag out of your pocket, but he shakes his head, pocketing the SIM card.

You rise as he gets closer, returning the evidence bag to your pocket. He’s clearly affected, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes.

Opening your arms to him, he wilts into you, allowing you to gather him into your shoulder. His arms are loose around your waist, his fingers wrapped around his opposite wrist as an anchor. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability and you’d hate to make him feel anything less than safe.

You still have a minute or so before they all come stomping through the door to collect Megan’s body.

“I’m sorry, Hotch.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know why this one hurts.”

Your arms tighten around him. “It’s okay. I feel it, too.”

A deep, shaky breath rolls through him.

“She’s right, you know.” You almost regret your words, afraid you’re giving yourself away.

“What?”

“You didn’t let her down. You’re a good man.”

His jaw tightens, and you can feel it against your neck where his head falls into your shoulder.

“Oh, stop. You’ve never let me down.” Your hand reaches up, stroking the back of his head, carding your fingers through the hair. “She died knowing you kept your promise.”

+++

You look up to Aaron’s office when news of the leak breaks, finding his silhouette haunting the window, staring at the television.

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and he turns back to his desk, settling back down to work.

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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hoedorokishoto · 4 years ago

Text

Trust - Part 3

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

+ Minors DNI

previous | part | next

"So what, they were just arguing outside the dorm?" Toshi asked, stretched out on the couch in my workshop, manspreading as he rubbed the back of his neck. One of his long legs not quite fitting on the small red couch, hanging over edge.

"Yeah...I mean, I don't think it was too serious but there was definitely yelling." I stated, flicking my protective goggles down over my eyes and welding new panels on some of Bakugo's equipment, keeping the lines clean and crisp. Not wanting to feel or hear the wrath of Katsuki Bakugo if something was out of place.

"And you were in the bushes?" He asked, quirking his eyebrow, laughing at me as he laid down further on the couch.

"Not in a creepy way! In a what the fuck, dodge and evade kinda way." I said, my voice becoming higher as I defended myself. I had to admit, the situation last night would have sounded suspicious if I had told anyone else. A half-black 18-year-old, hiding in the bushes listening to a conversation between two rich popular people in the middle of the night. Yeah very sus indeed. But I knew that my story was safe with Hitoshi, hoping that he might even have some insider 3A knowledge.

"Well, nothing too exciting happened after they left. Yaomomo walked in head held high, made some tea and went to bed." He said, yawning and placing his arm over his eyes. He didn't mention Todoroki. Did he not go back inside? Where did he find himself last night? I didn't dwell any longer in the bushes to find out, almost regretting that decision now.

"So no gossip? I'm disappointed." I said shrugging, faking disappointment. He laughed behind me, his arm still shielding his eyes as he shifted and got comfortable, preparing to nap as I worked into the late afternoon no doubt. Mr Aizawa having to cancel their private training for 'Pro Hero Reasons'.

I never cared much for the drama of UA students, hero course or otherwise, but recently a two-toned boy had piqued my interest. The situation last night not helping me want to mind my own business. Usually everyone was too busy or too tired for drama, a fact that I had come to love since being at UA. Gone were the days of schoolyard bullying and the gossip about who was hooking up with who.

"What's going on in that brilliant brain of yours?" Hitoshi asked, his arm still over his eyes, not once had he even looked up.

"I can feel the neurons firing in your brain from here." He said before I could answer. It was times likes these that I hated he knew me so well.

What was going on in my brain? It felt like for the first time in 18 years I didn't know exactly what I wanted or how I would go about getting it. Shoto Todoroki's name had really thrown a spanner in the works from the moment it was listed next to mine.

"He is quite interesting... that's all I'll say about it." I said in Hitoshi's direction, looking back down, welding the remaining panels together.

"What? You have a thing for Todoroki now? Well get in line behind the rest of the school." He said laughing.

"I don't have a thing! I just find him interesting. Is that a crime?"

I put my equipment away and stood back admiring the finished product, hand on my hip and once again covered in grease. The thick black layer of grime almost a permanent feature of my skin since 1st year. Most of my clothes stained and musty. Smelling like the workshop and a truck had a baby.

"Speaking of interesting... Shishida said he knew you were there last night. I saw him talking to Kaibara about it this morning before class, looking all flustered." Toshi said, finally getting up and coming to stand beside me with one hand in his pocket and the other atop my head.

"I forget that his quirk lets him hear and smell everything. It's a little unsettling." I stated, a shiver going up my spine. I did forget about Shishida and his beast quirk, how he probably heard the whole thing and everything that was said and done last night in Sen's dorm room. Since mine and Hitoshi's most recent conversation about Sen, I have been feeling worse. Wishing that I could like him more or at least have the decency to cut him off. As much as I hated the thought of a relationship the thought of being alone forever with no one sounded even worse, as selfish as it sounded. I was using Sen to feel something, something that I knew would never grow and we would never be more than this.

"Am I a terrible person?" I asked, out of the blue. Shocking even Hitoshi as his eyes went wide.

"Of course not, why would you ask that?"

"I can feel it, I feel how much he likes me and wants me to stay but I just can't. I worry that I won't ever like anyone like that." I said sadly, dropping my head and removing the helmet, rubbing my cheek with the back of my hand.

"Hey! Boys and girls may come and go but you and me are forever. Don't ever forget that. I've seen your heart and I know how big it is and I know exactly who you are." He said, putting his long finger under my chin and lifting my head, a small smile on his handsome face.

"I don't know what will happen in the future. But regardless I'll always be on your side."

The next few days continued on like any other, morning classes then UA class followed by after school and extra curricular activities. The last bell of the day rang out, dismissing students and teachers who were eager to get back to the dorms to start enjoying their one day weekend. Sunday being the only day off for all students.

"So... What are you wearing? I'm thinking that red dress where your boobs look absolutely amazing." Mei said as she linked our arms as we left out respective workshops and matched step as we left the main UA building.

"Hmm maybe, I mean they are one of my best assets." I agreed, replying to Hitoshi's text message about what time we should head over.

"I'm excited. Iida has been freaking out all week trying to mentally prepare for tonight, I can already picture him running around offering people water or something lame like that." She giggled, her face lighting up as she talked about Iida.

Mei and Tenya weren't official but to all of us they might as well have been. They even spent last Christmas together, sharing their first kiss in the snow. I think Iida was hesitant after what happened to his brother, not wanting anything terrible to happen to the people he loved most because of his career path. A noble man through and through.

Ding.

Sen- Hey, are you coming to the party tonight?

I hadn't seen Sen since the last time we had sex and I left without an explanation, saying that I would text him. Which I had not done.

I had been thinking about everything recently, liking Sen enough to not want to hurt him but not liking him enough to want to be his girlfriend. We were both already in too deep, whatever I said now even if it was letting him down easy was going to be harsh. That's what happens when you are a selfish piece of shit who just wants to get dicked down. I sighed heavily and looked down, rubbing my temples. Over having to think about this whole situation, and just wanting to crawl into bed and never come out.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what is this? I don't like it." Mei said, waving her hand up and down, gesturing to my whole body.

"Why aren't you excited! We always get excited for parties." She stated, linking our arms once more and walking us down the halls.

"I'm excited. Who said I wasn't excited."

"Oh just your face, your body language and your whole aura."

She was probably right, the introvert in me wanted nothing more than to stay home and avoid any and all confrontation about the situation that I had caused. I didn't answer her as we continued to walk, making our way to the huge doors and pushing them open. Coming face to face with Sen, Shishida and Tetsu Tetsu. All of them turning and looking directly at us as we walked out.

"Hey guys! Wanna walk together?" Tetsu asked, his usual cheerful self on full display. His sunshine personality and aloofness clearly missing the weird tension between me and Sen.

"Um..." Sen started, blushing slightly and looking in my direction, his eyes looking sad as they took me in.

"We would love to! 3 future pro heroes as our personal chaperons? How did we get so lucky?" Mei answers, her voice getting higher as she looked between me and Sen, picking up whatever energy we were giving off.

We went the long way, the plan was to drop us off at our dorm then the 3 boys continue onto theirs. The conversation flowed naturally as we all talked about the party tonight and offers which we had gotten for work studies and internships.

"Hatsume I really loved the gear you made me! You guys are so cool, I wish I was half as smart as you. Mr Vlad might actually pass me then." Testu Testsu confessed, smiling and showing off his sharp teeth to us. The rest of the group continued to make small talk as we walked, me and Sen lagging behind the group, not walking together but close enough that I could hear his breathing. Fast and almost panicked, cleary working himself up.

"Y/N. Can I talk to you for a sec?" Sen asked quietly behind me so only I could hear. I stilled, scared that if I turned around, my heart and head would be even more confused. As if that was possible.

"You guys can go on without us." I said to the others, smiling at them as they waved us off.

"I'm s."

"I just."

We both said at the same time, both of us stepping forward towards each other. A blush making it's way up Sen's cheeks. He was incredibly cute. The type of cute that if you bought him home your parents would approve. The type of cute that was safe.

"You know that I like you, I don't try to hide it Y/N" He stated confidently, his darks eyes staring into mine.

"I love being with you, not just physically. I want to be someone you can rely on. Be there for you whenever you need. Why won't you give me a chance?" He said louder this time. My heart hammering in my chest. Not at his sudden confess but because I was scared of my answer, scared of being labeled the bad guy and rightfully so.

"Please, come with me to the party as my date and just give me a chance. There has to be something there or else we wouldn't have made it this far."

That's where he was wrong. People could sleep with people and not want to date them. People could promise each other the world and leave them the very next day. I knew that I could have sex with Sen a million times and even then, it would only be sex. He would only ever be cute, and if things ever went any further he would only break my heart or me his.

Despite this, as I looked at his eyes and his tall frame looming over me I answered with the complete contradiction.

"Yes, meet me outside my dorm at 7?"

#shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #sen kaibara #mha x reader #bnha fanfiction #todoroki x reader #shoto smut

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magiccoverssport · 3 years ago

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Heading into the Knock-Outs

Ngl, it felt very weird to not be watching Euros football yesterday after 13 straight days with games, but don't worry, there's more coming up TONIGHT and we're into the knock-outs, so ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN. Here's what the rest of the tournament schedule looks like now that we're through to this stage:

Before I get into a preview, I really want to share this quote from the Denmark coach, Lars Søndergaard, after their team was knocked out of the tournament by Spain, just to take a moment in honour of those teams that have left the tournament:

Now for lil preview of the first two quarter-final games with lots of links to extra reading if you're super-keen!

England vs. Spain

Some tasty match-ups coming up, starting off with Spain vs. England, in a game that many would have tipped Spain to win prior to the tournament beginning, but now England look more likely to come out on top. Spain haven't been convincing in the way that many expected, maintaining a lot of the ball but not able to capitalise in the final third. Once again, I recommend reading Sophie Lawson for some of the reasons they've ended up here (besides the big absence of Alexia Putellas) and how they might be able to turn up in the knock-outs.

England on the other hand have been flying, handling a staunch Austrian defense in their first match and otherwise storming through their group. They've honestly been a blast to watch, especially since young players have been able to get opportunities on the pitch and excel. Alessia Russo has been particularly delightful in taking her chances coming off the bench, and this link up with Ella Toone was a great sign of things to come for England in the future.

This match-up will be really interesting, because Spain will likely have much more of the ball than England have given up so far this tournament, which may provide a different kind of challenge. So far Spain have yet to tap into an in-form scorer, while the Lionesses have had lots of offense, especially considering that Beth Mead is ON ONE on the way to leading the golden boot race.

Keep an Eye On . . .

Line-ups & Substitutions

Sarina Weigman is quite well known for not rotating her squad during major tournaments (and even said she prefers 'ryhthm over rotation'), but that doesn't mean she might not employ some slightly different tactics for Spain. She's deployed subs very well so far this tournament, so that could be another key, especially if the likes of Ellen White are stifled (can you tell I really want to see more of Alessia Russo?).

On the other side, Jorge Vilda did rotate in the group stage, but besides a core of Barça players in the midfield and backline, he has yet to settle on forwards that have found a finishing touch. Many fans have been clamouring for young culé Claudia Pina and Real Socediad star Amaiur Sarriegi to get more (and in Sarriegi's case some) time to make an impact. Here's Jessy Parker Humphreys writing bluntly on the subject of Vilda trying to replace Alexia Putella's creativity:

Vilda’s attempts to replace her have ranged from the bizarre to the downright ridiculous. He has used three different players in her place (Irene Guerrero, Patri Guijarro and Mariona Caldentey), none of whom have come close to helping link the midfield to the attack. It is hard to pin the blame on the individuals when it is hard to say anyone on the pitch for Spain looks like they know what they are supposed to be doing.

The big question is whether Jorge will continue to obstinately ignore the problem or decide to make some changes on the big stage.

These Players

For England, the midfield will be key, as even without Putellas, Spain have arguably the best options in the women's game. Georgia Stanway has had a great tournament and will need to be at her best to close down passing lanes and look to open up England's own in order to disrupt Spain's control. Keira Walsh has also been quietly having immense performances as a defensive midfielder and can cause problems for Spain's defense with her passing accuracy. Finally, Fran Kirby has been a key link between the midfield and front line, orchestrating the bulk of the Lioness attack. I may be biased, but she's also one of the easiest England players to root for.

For Spain, unless Vilda decides to mix things up, La Roja will need Mariona Caldentey to find some creativity and finishing and will likely look to Athenea del Castillo to attack England's flanks. Aitana Bonmatí and Patri Guijarro have already been immense in midfield and are sure to cause England some problems, and Mapi León and Irene Paredes have been essential, both at the back and in set-pieces, for Spain in the tournament.

I also think Ona Batlle has had a very strong Euros, at right back, often coming up against some of the opposition's best attackers while managing to generate offensive runs herself, and it will be interesting to see her up against England's Lauren Hemp.

Great Analysis

I've linked to his work a lot, but another recommendation to check out Om Arvind's Tactical Rant newsletter--here's a preview of the England v. Spain match-up that's just fantastic in describing both teams and how they match up.

Germany vs. Austria

The other Group A/Group B match up is Germany vs. Austria, with both teams surprising based on pre-tournament expectations. The Germans have been (warning: stereotype incoming) a machine through the tournament, very efficiently handling every team in the Group of Death and looking set to head to the semi-finals. They've had star performances from all areas of the pitch, and the epic return of Alex Popp has been wonderful to watch (see Jay Harris for the Athletic--let me know if I can help with the paywall).

On the other hand, Austria was seen as a long-shot making it out of their group, but with Norway capitulating, the savy and well-organised team was able to make it through (this article from Sophie Lawson covers what went wrong for Norway but also so right for Austria). Though they'll still be in the underdogs in their quarter-final match-up, it's a role they've taken to well in this tournament, and if they can stand firm and frustrate the Germans for long enough, who knows! You'll note I have less to say about this match-up, partially because I'm based in the UK where there's more England coverage, and partially because I kinda think Germany have this game locked down already.

Keep an Eye On . . .

Defense

This has been a strong suit for both teams in the tournament, with Austria able to hold-off Engladn better than anyone else in their group and Germany smothering chances from all of their opponents. Both teams also have starting goalkeepers who are having very steady, calm performances, as Manuela Zinsberger only conceded one goal in the group stage and Germany's Merle Frohms came up with one of the saves of the tournament against Spain.

These Players

Lina Magull was given some rest in the group stage, to look after a little knock, but she was fantastic in their opener and if she's fully fit and in the line-up, she'll be a key difference-maker for Germany. I've already mentioned Popp, but Svenja Huth is another veteran who's been having a great tournament and Lea Schüller has been back training since having to isolate for COVID-19 and will be eager to make her mark in attack.

For Austria, the midfield duo of Sarah Zadrazil and Laura Feiersinger has been essential to their ability to keep calm and controlled in games, not to mention generating attacks, and Laura Wienroither has had a big impact in the games she's been able to play in (another player who missed some action with Covid). Finally, Nicole Billa opened her account in the tournament with a goal against Norway and has the potential to make things difficult for Germany, as she, along with many of her teammates, are well acquainted with the Frauen-Bundesliga.

#weuro2022 #euro 2022 #woso #futfem #engwnt #lionesses #espwnt #gerwnt #autwnt

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trentsleatherboots · 4 years ago

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Carach Angren, interview translation Dutch > English

Published in the magazine Rock Tribune, edition June 2020, nr. 192.

Text by Morbid Geert. Fotos: Stefan Heileman.

WILL THE REAL FRANKENSTEIN STAND UP NOW?

At the end of last year you could already read about how we kept close watch on Carach Angren. Back when they were still heavy in the production process, on Halloween Day we went over to Ardeks homebase and studio to see the first glimpse of their new work and later Rock Tribune got invited to listen to the album in Germany. Now it's almost time for 'Franckensteina Strataemontanus' to be shown to the world and that's why we wanted to take an even deeper look. Weaponed with an oil lamp and shovel we went onwards towards the graveyard to uncover the soul stirrings of Ardek. (Text: Morbid Geert)

---

Ardek, the last time I talked to you the songs were still in a very early stage and what we heard was more of a pre production. Did you tinker more afterwards to come to an end result or did you purposely keep your hands off to avoid overproduction?

"In terms of song structures and lyrics not much changed on the premature songs that you heard. What followed however was another production-finish, where especially the mix and mastering made a big change. That last stadia really lifted it all to another plane and you can really hear that."

A FRESH LOOK.

As far as I knew, Patrick Damiani was still fully onboard working on the songs at Tidal Wave Studio in Germany. How important was it for you to pull an extra producer into the process? After all, you are very much at home with that as well? Or maybe not as much as you'd like?

"Back then he worked on drumediting and played the basslines, but his role is way bigger than that. We've worked together a lot and now we're doing something for L'Âme Immortelle, where we vibe together perfectly and know exactly how to handle such a project. When he takes on production for Carach Angren however, I notice how much better he controls it. He has so much knowledge about drum sounds, mixing,... and he's really specialised in it. It is nice to add that knowledge, it brings a lot of added value. These days a lot of bands record at home and that all makes it a lot cheaper, but a good producer brings a lot of experience and equipment, it ends up with a whole different result. Besides, we left the mix and mastering to Robert Carranza."

That last one is a pretty big name, who among others worked with Marilyn Manson. I can imagine that has a big impact on your budget, but was it worth it?

"I think so. When I listened to 'Killing Strangers' by Marilyn Manson on headphones and heard the bassline, it went so deep that it turned me upside down. Apparently Robert Carranza mixed that album. Furthermore he does a lot of different things such as make latin music and win grammy's, but in the extreme metal scene he is totally unknown. However, he wanted to help himself to our record and yes, the price was steep, but I managed to convince both the band and the label… even though that wasn't without some doubts, since all eyes were on me for a bit. I had a good feeling about it and shared it, with the result being having a record now that doesn't sound like the others. He had a fresh look on our work and thus we could avoid the recognisability of the average metal producer. There are too many records that when you hear them you know exactly who had their hands on them and in which studio they were recorded. Contrary to what you might think, there was constant contact with him (Robert) and a lot of talking about how we wanted it to sound. In particular the clarity of the sound is massive and gives it a bit more of a cinematic effect. There was no compression applied where everything sounds constantly loud and where as a listener you'd get easily tired, but the dynamics were preserved."

DIDN'T FEEL LIKE IT ANYMORE.

To refer back to Patrick Damiani: if he does so much and even plays the basslines, do you see him as sort of a 4th band member or is that just a bit too much credit?

"That's not how we see him. He's an amazing producer and musician, who gives us his opinion and helps us out. On the other hand he is not part of the creative process and he isn't on stage with us… but it is a relationship that's been going on for 12 years and something we get a lot out of."

Now I'm saying '4th band member', but after the recordings of your new record ended, your brother and drummer Namtar left the band. Can I ask what happened and if you saw this coming, or whether it was a bolt from the blue?

“In November he recorded his drum tracks and back then everything went fine, but then there came an offer to play at '70000TONS OF METAL'. Since we always looked at the financial side of the band together, we talked about the offer and he was immediately against it. I thought that was strange and to me it seemed better to sit around the table with three to talk about it. Then it became apparent that he'd been wrestling with it for sometime and in brief didn't feel like it anymore. We offered him to take a break of a few months instead of just throwing away what we've worked for the last 20 years, but that wasn't a solution. It wasn't an easy decision, but afterwards we saw it had been an issue for a long time and at that point you rather put a stop to it. That hit us hard, but you can never force somebody to stay in a band. To keep our motivation high we played '70000TONS OF METAL' after all with Michiel van der Plicht of God Dethroned as replacement. That pleased us all and he's willing to help us out in the future."

Michiel van der Plicht in indeed an amazing drummer. Are there any plans to keep him in the band permanently or is this an emergency solution and is there an offer still standing?

"I discussed that extensively with Seregor, but together the two of us stay the core of the band. We already have an extra guitarist live and in the studio we will definitely have those people join again, but all decisions will be made by us two in the end. We want to avoid that other people leave a mark on the band, causing us to lose our individuality (personality). It's about so much more than just making music: the stage decor, our own stage outfits,... for us it is very clear and it's going well, so we only need help to fill in with the music in the studio and during lives."

MILKED OUT?

Let's get to the core of business. At the end of this month is the release of your 6th album, 'Franckensteina Strataemontanus'. Now lends the Frankenstein story itself perfectly for a horror metal band, but I wondered if the story isn't too milked out by other bands… unless you do it with a completely new vision. After all, that's what you did with 'This Is No Fairytale', where Hans and Gretel were transported to the now and the horror became bigger than ever.

"When we started, I had the same feelings about the Frankenstein story, but there's a twist to it. Everything started for me as a dream, where I flew through an old house. There, I heard dissonant piano tunes and I got sucked into a room where a portrait of an old man hung on the wall. Later I made a drawing of that portrait and it got stuck in my head. When I began doing research for the album months later and even read Mary Shelley's amazing book 'Frankenstein', I found out that there is a theory that when she wrote her book she was influenced by Johann Konrad Dippel, an 18th century alchemist. Then when I looked him up, he turned out to look like what I had seen in my dream, which personally motivated me to dig deeper. Dippel is an unknown figure for the masses and that's why it seemed fascinating to us to do something with it. There is fiction and truth mixed in our story. By the way, Dippel lived in Frankenstein Castle near Darmstadt, where he was looking for the elixir to eternal life. He was also a theologist, but he clashed with the church and was therefore cast away. Because he also did experiments on cadavers and sought life extending resources, he would've inspired Mary Shelley for her story. What we did was make a concept around the source of her story instead of following the clichés. That monster with screws in his head, we've seen it already before…"

Yet it doesn't seem like a concept album, because I notice that you address very diverse subjects.

"It is definitely a concept, since all stories are connected to one another, even if it's not noticeable. 'Operation Compass' is about the North-African desert war between the Brits and Italians. In official documents the Brits were ordered that if there were to be a fallback, to make all sources unusable for the enemy with 'Dippel's oil' (a nasty substance that made water undrinkable but did not poison it, so it was in battle with the Geneva protocols). In our story it leads to a demonic outburst that went towards the soldiers. So you see, Dippel comes back throughout different moments in history. 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' is about a real figure that is still alive. He committed necrophilia, killed people and drank their blood, … but is now at large. In our story he lost his ways after reading Dippel's books, which once again links it with the core story. 'Here In German Woodland.', the opening song, is about a boy that gets lost and dies in the forest surrounding Darmstadt, but later comes back and eats his parents. In the closing song 'Like A Conscious Parasite I Roam' it all comes full circle: Dippels life elixir only works for his soul, and his body rots away, so he searches for a guest body and his spirit creeps into that little boy."

In a few songs, some German lyrics show up. Is that besides the concept also because of the grim sound of the language or is it simply because you live so close to Germany and it has a certain impact?

"The subject lends itself to it of course and Seregor speaks German very well, which made things easier. And yes, the sound does play a certain role. 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' sounds way better than the English translation, it immediately sets the right tone."

Some of these stories are the result of reality, but are often at least as gruesome as many fantasy stories: such is the bonus song 'Frederick's Experiments' about the sick science experiments of emperor Frederick II, a man who apparently was not inferior to the Nazi doctors?

"Yes, you can say that he set a good example! Seregor came with the idea and somewhere the story did fit within the total picture, even though we couldn't fit it into the big story. Our label Season Of Mist however asked for a bonus track and that's how we managed to include the song after all."

CROSS-POLLINATION.

What I noticed with the first sneak preview, but what has become clear now, is that Carach Angren this time worked very innovative musically. Watch out, it is immediately clear that it is from Carach Angren, since you already have your own sound, but at the same time there are noticable things we haven't heard from you before. The title track has a considerable industrial touch and we also hear something from Laibach in it, just like 'Monster'. Is that something you've only recently been getting into or have you maybe secretly been an industrial fan for years?

"It is more recent, even though I've always been appreciative of it. By also collaborating with Till Lindemann for his project Lindemann, I also came into contact with it more and started taking it up unconsciously. Afterwards I got to experiment with it for my solo project and that's how I came up with the song 'Monster'. Seregor tested some things out for singing for that song and it just made sense. It was very cool to experiment like that, which you should when you're making a record based on Frankenstein…"

It became a musical experiment instead of scientific experiment, but you do create a parallel, yes.

"Inside Carach Angren we like to put a lot of variety in the songs and if you can also give that a different look, then that is something you should try. We ourselves are absolutely crazy about it! Some fans will have to swallow when they hear those songs, but for them there are plenty of old school songs on it."

To come back to Lindemann: he and Peter Tägtgren got you involved since you are so good with classical orchestras and arrangements, but in the end it seems to have become two-way traffic, doesn't it? Have you learned a lot from it and developed other visions?

"We worked together in a very awesome way and you do learn a lot from that. You grow as a componist, as musician and as producer. It made me compose more compactly and I sometimes pursue slightly less complex songs, like the two more industrial based songs. Always great to be able to take a different approach."

Both those songs have an easier buildup, but in the other songs you go back to the complexity that you left out purposefully 'Dance And Laugh Amongst The Rotten'. Is it a way to generate more contrast?

"In some ways yes, but it depends on how it works out in a song. We tried to make the title track a bit longer, but then the effect fell away and it didn't feel right anymore. But strangely enough I write a complex song like 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' easier than a less complex piece like 'Monster'. With less arrangements it quickly becomes hard to keep it exciting(engaging), but seeing as you want to keep the concept to level, you need to have enough variation. The industrial songs sound a bit less complex, but there is a lot happening in the background and they are full of tiny details that make the difference."

MIXING COLOURS.

With the new approach you have opened some doors to maybe do more experimenting in the future. Is that actually your goal or is there nothing reasoned behind it and do such new influences pop up sooner when they seem to be able to improve the song?

"It all almost comes down to what the concept of the album requires. Back when we wrote 'Death Came Through A Phantom Ship' we added swirling waves and custom/adapted sounds to it. With the new record the 'marching' of the pulsing industrial beat seemed to work the best with our Frankenstein theme. You have to see it like a painter who is mixing colours to make a new colour to fit his vision. We don't do any different and we would love to experiment more in the future. If we see what we've already tried with singing now … in the long run we were completely out of control trying to do crazy things."

The singing is indeed a very remarkable part of 'Franckensteina Strataemontanus'. We always thought Seregor had a good black metal voice, but we were very impressed by the way he twisted his voice this time around and helped set the mood.

"We are very happy about that ourselves. He delivered an excellent job and we really pushed everything to get to that point. We actually took several weeks to make sure my home studio was in perfect condition and sometimes Seregor had to redo a certain part up to 10 times to get the result we wanted, but he did it without struggling. A lot of singers that ask so much from their vocal chords are dead on their feet after an hour, but then there is Seregor who gets through the day without complaining, even while screaming his lungs out. While recording 'Operation Compass' we did however find out it is better to record a deep grunt in the early morning, since your voice is still a bit slow and heavier from sleep.”

MUSIC AS A BOOST.

The whole corona crisis made it so that as a band it is way more difficult to promote an album now, since all concerts got cancelled. Did that have a big impact on Carach Angren or can you make it?

"I myself am very concerned with the people who are really affected by the disease and that is why I can partially ignore the inconveniences for ourselves. Nevertheless, it has a serious effect on the music industry, although that is secondary to me. We are dealing with a pandemic, people are dying and we all have to work to keep everything under control. In addition, it is strange to release an album in a full crisis, but we decided to go for it anyway. It's a cool record and we already started the promotion, so we just keep going. For now, tours are not planned, but that does not mean that we will now stream all kinds of performances to attract attention. We are not that type of band… what is a shame is that our plans for a very cool video clip are now also being abandoned. We had to go to Germany and there are also the social distancing rules, which make such a recording impossible. But should we really want that and turn it into drama? Of course it sucks to have to promote the release like this, but the whole world is just not what it was a few months ago."

Do you have any alternative ideas to bridge that gap? I know that you guys always have enough visual ideas and there already is a lyric video for 'Monster', but I can imagine that there is more to come.

"We are working on that yes, because last month we made one for 'Der Vampir von Nürnberg' and next month we might take another song in hand. We will keep doing those sorts of things together with some 'making of-' videos that we recorded in the studio, that way we can give the album some extra promotion. Nothing for us to worry about so… by the way, there is something about releasing a record in times like these. The people have been stuck at home for months and have nothing to do, so if we can give them a new piece of music to listen to to get through the day, then that is awesome too. It would be disappointing for the fans if we just put our new work on the shelf because of this pandemic. Every band should do what they think is best, but we had already started our press campaign anyway and we would also be a lot less driven if we only had to arrive 'with old stuff' within six months or later."

Carach Angren already has a few beautiful video clips which are build up with a real story and don't only have something musical to offer. In addition, there are also the lyric videos, where certainly those for the complete album 'This Is No Fairytale' with comic images by Costin Chioreanu stand out from the crowd. Have you never thought of bundling everything on a DVD?

"We've honestly never thought about that, but that's actually a really great idea! I think it would be nice to bundle everything together and that way we immediately remove some (away) from youtube. That can always be a good idea for the future."

LEARNING SCHOOL.

As songwriter of Carach Angren you may have previously absorbed a lot of influences that shaped you into the musician and songwriter you are today. Can you list the five most essential records or artists that shaped you personally and what exactly were their interests?

"That is a good question that doesn't let itself be answered very easily. In the classical field and orchestras I think Tchaikovsky and Stravinski are very important. They both had a lot of influence on me as a componist. Another important inspiration to me in that respect is John Williams (modern componist famous for his film scores for Star Wars, Jaws, Jurassic Park..) They helped shape me even more when it comes to layered composing, although I don't come close to what they do. As a child I followed keyboard lessons for 8 years, I did a year of conservatory and studied a year of music and media, as well as cinematic orchestration. Those last two were online, but on a serious level and you really had to write pieces for an orchestra. I learned a lot there, but ever since then I kept learning by actually doing it myself, looking through books and analyzing musical pieces. But if I hadn't gotten the theoretical basis I had as a child, I would've never been able to do this today. On production level I have to mention Nine Inch Nails and, something you'd might find strange, Michael Jackson! If you see how well their albums are produced, and how many layers are incorporated, it's amazingly well done! You can say about Michael Jackson's music what you want, but the way the songs are built up and how much dynamics are in there thanks to the arrangements by Quincy Jones, it is absolutely astounding. There is no lack of bells and whistles and sometimes, for example, the snare drum comes in in four layers, something you don't hear so loudly even in extreme metal. I mainly listen to those albums as an audiophile to analyze them and see what I can get out of it as a producer. Last week I checked the solo record of Roger Waters, in which I heard effects that seemed to be situated outside the loudspeaker field. Then I want to know how that is done and whether I can integrate it with Carach Angren. That kind of thing is the reverse of the compression they use too often today and you wonder why we don't all go in that direction anymore."

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Translated by Jeordie/Trentsfishnets.

(For the record, if this interview already exists in English, I will just see this as translating practice C:)

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