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bonniebird · 2 years

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Recovery things I think Billy Hargrove would have gone through if he’d been rescued from Neil

Trigger warnings: Based on my experience with a parent like Neil Hargrove and being responsible for a younger sibling. Some people might find triggering/ upsetting and some of the terms may be wrong as my therapist and I have a short hand.

Billy being allowed to find out what his favourite colour is and what his favourite food is (Parents like Neil will pick what you like/ allowed to like based on what they idealise you to be like so these two would be big deals. It’s actually really hard to do.)

Billy getting to have decent furniture and be allowed to keep it without any conditions or expectations of him owing anyone anything. (He’s the scapegoat child so he will purposefully have not been given nice furniture of would have had to but his own while Max would have been given everything new specifically to cause a rift between the two. Billy and Max make up half the Hargrove household if Neil keeps them apart he has more control)

Billy finding his fav cologne (Neil would have most likely given Billy his old cologne and Billy just kept buying that because it is a ‘safe’ item)

Billy going through an imprinting phase when he trusts people (I think he’d start with Max and El and then develop trust from there)

Billy learning to self-soothe because of the support he has/ develops.

Becoming more engaged as he trusts the group and growing into his version of himself.

Less of him dissociating / no more scenes of him smoking, drinking listening to music watching TV and working out all at once because he’ll begin to be able to be alone with his own thoughts without negative thoughts or panic attacks.

Teaching Max to swim/surf (even if she already can) because it’s a natural ground and something he’s good at so he’ll be more confident bonding with her.

Becoming less sexualised when the adults around him value him as a person and human being rather than an object.

Billy being surprised that physical contact can be a good thing (If Joyce is involved in his recovery she’d help him handle this and it would make the acceptance process of not every physical touch is bad a lot faster)

Billy getting used to platonic hugs/kisses and not flinching or feeling sick when he’s hugged.

Billy being given gifts unconditionally or without the expectation of doing or giving something in return. (Being given gifts would have been transactional. I gifted you a pair of school shoes you needed so now you owe me. I was nice enough to get you a birthday present you’re in my debt.)

Spreading/stopping resource guarding. (In the show Billy has his most valuable items around his bed in easy-to-grab spaces. Neil doesn’t view Billy as a person separate from himself so as far as he is concerned, anything Billy owns Neil owns. But eventually, Billy would feel comfortable enough to eventually stop resource guarding)

His struggle switch becomes easier to deal with as his brain deals with and recovers from the trauma of surviving 18 years of abuse.

Becoming less sexualised as he starts to be respected and acknowledged as a person and not an object by the people around him.

Billy being having fewer nightmares because he is able to talk to people about what’s going on.

Being shocked when someone else cleans up after him / cooks for him as the scapegoat child he’s been the one cleaning the Hargrove house and cooking.

Collecting phase. Billy isn’t supposed to take up space in the Hargrove house as it would have been considered an attack on Neil. A nice rock, cool acorn, a wrapper of a sweet he had and really liked. Eventually, he’ll get rid of it but for a few months, the item will be a positive memory trigger.

Fidgeting. Billy will get to a point about 7-16 months into his recovery where he’s jittery and fidgeting. Mostly with his hands as the hands are often used as a way to self-soothe. At first, he’d be aggressive (Day one - month 5/6) because he’s uncertain that being removed will last (Parents like Neil have a nasty habit of always escaping trouble and managing to show up at the worst possible moment) but eventually once he is secure and sure he’s safe he’ll calm down which will lead to nervous behaviour. He may also have stressed-induced OCD ticks as often people who have traumatic early childhoods develop them.

Max insisting on helping Billy with a hobby. Personally, I think working on his car or building something. Billy has spent a huge portion of his life protecting his mum and then Max from Neil so that’s something that’s going to be hard to stop doing especially as it would have been a condition for his survival, (Make sure Max is fed, has a clean house, gets places she needs to go and you won’t be beaten). That is something that is so difficult to unlearn so he’s going to go through a phase where everything Max does makes him mad because she’s not careful enough. Everything from stumbling up the curb to climbing up a tree and jumping out is going to have him running after her like a mother hen who raised a duckling that got into the water for the first time.

Gift-giving / false love bombing. For a while, if Billy feels indebted or like he has strong emotions towards people he will give them gifts as he won’t know how to process/handle certain emotions. Unlike Neil who loves bombs to trap people in a relationship with him, Billy will gift give in place of emotional interactions.

Info dumping! If Billy finds someone he trusts and someone who will genuinely have an interest in his thoughts and opinions he will tell them everything and I mean every single thought he has in his head. No detail is too small or big. He will most likely tell them the same story several times as well.

Hypersexuality/Hyposexuality phases. Because of how adults have treated him in the past and Neil's obsession with manliness, Billy’s identity that he’s been allowed to develop has been hypersexual. People value him because he’s pretty and sex triggers chemicals that make him feel good physically and mentally. However, when he starts developing as a person away from Neil he’s going to start questioning the behaviour which will be reinforced by people taking an interest in what he likes/hates things he’s interested in. Once he’s secure this should level out.

His trauma amnesia might start to give him memory flashes and he’ll be able to remember his mother’s face more clearly as his brain heals. Around this time things like smells and sounds will make him oversensitive and he might display age regressive behaviours or cause him to have outbursts of anger. He will probably start to remember more severe traumatic events and will need therapy to avoid a recovery relapse.

If his mother is still alive (Personally I think Neil killed her when she tried to leave and Billy’s brain blocked it out or rewrote what happened as he was going for her face and neck and he goes for billy’s neck in the show which shows a pretty severe abusive situation.) He might seek her out after a few years. If it goes well he’ll have up and down moments when seeing her. His mood will build and reach a peak when meeting her and then his mood will plummet to normal levels after seeing her which can lead to depressive episodes or emotions that he can’t handle/control (Again if Joyce is involved I think this is something that she would be able to handle really well with him.)

Anxiety. He’s going to be made of anxiety. There will be days when he can’t go outside during the first few months. The day Neil moves out of Hawkins is the day you’ll see him strutting down the street with a smile on his face like it was the best day of his life. He’ll have several different safety habits to help cope with his anxiety.

He’ll be independent to a fault, probably to the point of sleepless hair falling out stress, but will also try to take on whatever Max needs as well. He’s been made responsible for her since she joined the Hargrove family and it’s a hard habit to break.

#billy hargrove

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eugeniedanglars · 2 years

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now i’m thinking about how one of the things i appreciate most about ofmd is that even though the overall plot of the show is a gay romance, the characters’ individual arcs would still work if they were cishet—but they work better because they’re not.

like, let’s look at stede’s arc: he’s been told his whole life that he’s weak, unmanly, cowardly, pathetic. he’s unhappy in his arranged marriage, bored by domestic life, and decides to prove his mettle and search for adventure and fulfillment by becoming a pirate. even as a pirate, however, he struggles to escape the perception of himself as ineffectual and unmasculine, and he is plagued by guilt over abandoning his family. through his friendship with blackbeard and his gradual earning of the respect and love of his crew, stede learns to be more decisive, brave, and confident, but also that he needs to hold himself accountable for the way his choices impact the people around him. this ultimately spurs him to return home and try to make amends with his family, but the way both he and mary have grown in their time apart means there is no longer a place for stede in the society he left. stede’s newfound decisiveness and accountability help him accept that he can’t stay, and instead of secretly running away in the middle of the night again, he says goodbye properly and ensures everything is taken care of for his family before returning to the sea, having finally gotten the closure he needed in order to fully commit to his new life.

all of that would work if stede was straight! the closest his sexuality and his romance with ed comes to being a direct plot point in his individual character growth is when it motivates him to return to piracy at the end of the season, but his and mary’s mutual unhappiness is a strong enough motivator on its own that his decision to leave would make sense even without the ed/stede romance. (your wife wanting you gone so badly she tries to kill you with a skewer is a great reason to skip town.)

but the fact that stede isn’t straight makes it all resonate so much more. stede being tormented by his father and nigel for not being “tough” or “manly” enough isn’t just about the pain of toxic masculinity, but also the trauma of growing up visibly Other, being targeted for differences that you not only can’t control but don’t even understand about yourself until later. stede wasn’t just bullied, he was clocked, and it makes it that much more compelling to watch him become more confident without losing the traits that made him clockable in the first place. or take his whole midlife crisis about being bored with his life and finding happiness as a pirate—it would be so easy to tell that story with a straight man, but it wouldn’t have the same oomph. (if anything, it would risk sending a gross “men aren’t made to be tied down to a wife and kids” type message.) stede’s objectively shitty action of abandoning his family is a lot more sympathetic, creates a richer character, and just plain makes more sense when the reason for his “discomfort in a married state” is that he’s gay. the happiness and freedom he finds in piracy coming from him finally getting to explore who he is, be around other lgbt people, and fall in love for the first time is much more meaningful than if the only thing he was free of was the responsibilities of having a wife and kids.

and it’s not just stede! even if he and stede were just platonic or if he had a heterosexual romance, ed could still experience the stifling pressure of being asked to perform a toxic persona because no one ever sees the real ed underneath, the joy and terror of being vulnerable with another person who finally understands him, and the pain when that vulnerability and real self is seemingly what drives the other person away—but god, those themes of being forced to be someone you don’t want to be but getting punished when you try to be anything else hit so much harder when framed through the lens of a gay romance.

i really think this is a huge part of what makes ofmd work so well. i’ve mentioned this before, but i love how the show strikes a balance where characters’ identities aren’t their defining characteristic, but they aren’t an afterthought either, and i think that balance is largely thanks to how the character arcs are handled separately from the larger plot. i know david jenkins has talked about wanting to sidestep the whole coming-out story plot, but a lot of stories that try to avoid a coming-out plot end up overcorrecting and creating lgbt characters whose identities feel completely incidental and not like an authentic part of the character’s lived experience. ofmd doesn’t do that: its characters are complex, interesting people who happen to be lgbt and have bigger things going on in their lives/storylines besides their identities, but those identities still inform who they are, how they relate to other people, and how they navigate the world.

#our flag means death #there's also a point to be made about how ofmd kinda treats coming out as something that's none of the audience's fucking business #like it's clear to us that stede is going through some amount of self-discovery re: his sexuality #but his exact thought process and level of awareness is left pretty ambiguous because we're only told as much as we need to know #and jim being nonbinary is treated the same way. we know what we need to know and the rest is just jim's business #but all of that is kinda tangential and also this post is long enough as it is #i just spent like 2 hours writing this instead of watching lecture recordings. girl help

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kagekitsuneoflight · 2 years

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There’s actually a theme in Inuyasha that I don’t see a lot of talk about, and when I do it usually centers around Inuyasha and Kikyo.

It’s revenge of course.

And the character that showcases how single-mindedness revenge can lead to far more victims than the initial crime is… Miroku.

It all starts with his grandfather, a monk named Miyatsu, just like Miroku and his father. It’s noted the beautiful women are a ‘weakness’ that runs in the family. Taking advantage of that Naraku disguised himself as a woman and curses Miroku’s grandfather with a black hole in the palm of his hand. It’s a generational curse.

Miyatsu spends the rest of his life trying to kill Naraku, and when the black hole grows and swallows him whole. Now it’s not clear if Miroku’s father was born before or after the curse was made. But it’s at the very least safe to say Miroku was born well after the fact. Miroku’s father inherits the Kazaana after Miyatsu is swallowed by it, and continues the fight against Naraku, both out of duty as a monk, but also to avenge Miyatsu.

Somewhere along the line, Miroku begins to fear that he will not accomplish his goal, and seeks out a woman to have a son. And here comes along Miroku, who is raised by a family friend and fellow monk, while his father continues to track down Naraku, confident that there will be someone to continue the cause.

Miroku is made aware of what will happen to him, and who is the cause of it. He witnesses his father get swallowed by the curse, inherits it, and continues the fight to end it, to avenge his father and grandfather.

But Miroku is also afraid that he too will be eaten by the Kazaana before his revenge can be accomplished, thus leading to his infamous “will you bear my child?”

The curse is much more than simply a pocket black hole, it’s also the burden of revenge. I think it’s a rather apt metaphor for how revenge will swallow you whole, and how easily it can be inherited. Miroku’s father (and potentially Miyatsu himself, depending on the timeline of events) could have easily let the revenge die with them, to have the curse die with them. Instead, they sought out to have an heir to inherit this curse in the event they don’t accomplish it. The argument can even be made that this is a generational trauma! Quite literally passed down.

Now let’s look at Sango as well, she’s actually a good foil for Miroku’s relationship with revenge. Her entire clan was killed in one night, save for her brother who was possessed and used as a puppet for the one who orchestrated the entire slaughter. It’s understandable that she wants the revenge, and she learns that it does not have to engulf her entire being. However, as much as she would love to revive her clan, she refuses to. This is her trauma. Her revenge. She refuses to pass it on.

It’s actually a hurdle that both Miroku and Sango must overcome in their relationship. Miroku continuously pursues Sango. At first, it’s done in a casual, perverse manner. But he eventually does gain actual feelings for her. He pursues her genuinely, they share their trauma.

And Sango makes it clear that she will not have any children until after Naraku is defeated. She doesn’t even give their relationship a proper label, even when she returns those feelings. Miroku could easily be swallowed up by the Kazaana, leaving her alone again, albeit with her friends. By refusing to label it, she’s trying to protect herself from that trauma again.

Miroku’s curse terrifies her. She does not want to pass on her trauma, her revenge, to the next generation. Miroku’s secondary objective IS to pass on that trauma, because that is what he inherited. With Miroku prioritizing Sango and her wants over the goal of passing it on, he is forced to stop the cycle. And with Sango refusing to start the cycle in the first place, she ensures he cannot pass it on from her. Living a life beyond revenge is so important, and their relationship, and their respective relationship with revenge, showcases it beautifully.

I do genuinely believe that one of the core pillars of Inuyasha’s theming is Revenge. From starting a cycle, to ending the cycle, to refusing to start the cycle.

#inuyasha #sango inuyasha #miroku inuyasha #i don’t remember if Naraku cursed Miyatsu because he groped his womanly disguise or if that’s fanon #also what is it with main characters and not having their parents have proper names #shut up kage

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dear-mrs-otome · 2 years

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Do u play ikegen? Have you played glasses guy route? Cause I was surprised to know he likes to sleep around with women. He doesn't look the type. So I'm curious about the history how he turned out like this? And how he changed after meeting with MC.

Glasses Guy AKA Kajiwara Kagetoki AKA the snarky wicked morally gray love of my Kamakura life? Ok that's an exaggeration because I can't pick just one of them...but he's a top contender. His route and Yasuchika’s are my favorites in the game.

I'll continue on after a cut.

Kagetoki is an interesting man, because he sort of embodies the rare 'nerdy slut' type. He absolutely has a reputation around town for being the guy you go to for a good time...but a good time only. He has no interest in the emotional aspects of a relationship and he treats sex as dispassionately and objectively as you would any other bodily need. He considers it no different from eating or drinking or sleeping in that respect, and his logic-driven point of view is that if a woman knows as much beforehand (that it'll be sex only) who is he to turn her down?

I will add that I have never seen or heard of him being the one to approach women. They invariably proposition him and he accepts.

All that said, his reputation is only mentioned in his own route. Never do we see him acting on any of the things he's reputed to do - in fact the only side story I can recall where it did (which came out just before his release) had him turning down the woman for various reasons but certainly in some part because he professes to be more interested in MC. He is quite fixated on her from the first moment they meet.

Kagetoki is a hardcore dominant semi-sadist - not in that he enjoys physically hurting women whatsoever but he gets off very much on a submissive partner that will obey his every command...and he makes no secret of his interest in bondage (it's even in a CG in his route dklfjdksl) or delighting in humiliating her in private. It seems that he picks up on MC's subby vibe from the moment they meet and to imply that it intrigues him would be an understatement.

That said, it's never done without her willingness to play along. In fact his MC is the most sexually submissive I think I've ever seen, a woman who secretly adores being dominated by him, and their personal relationship is heavily defined by their master/submissive roles. HOWEVER - this all only applies to their private lives. Kagetoki is proud of and supportive of her having agency and choice in everything she does, and in public they are equal partners. He adores her independence and confidence when she learns how to believe in herself, and I think his MC is one of the boldest in the game. I find them to be a fascinating couple because of this dichotomy, the two faces of their outward relationship and their personal, intimate dynamic. And I appreciate it showing that our bedroom activities and our sexual proclivities do not define our personalities. His MC in the day to day is a confident, capable, decisive woman whom he adores.

As for how he changes after meeting MC, he comes to grow into and appreciate a relationship that allows him to embrace himself fully. Any concerns MC has about his past promiscuity are wiped utterly away by his assurances that he's never felt true desire until meeting her and is confident he never would with anyone else - and in fact he has one of my favorite love confessions in the game!

#mrs o talks #ikemen genjiden #ikegen #ikegen kagetoki #spoiler #spoilers #ikemen genjiden spoilers #ikegen spoilers

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rocorambles · 4 years

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Murder of Crows

Pairing: Hinata, Kageyama, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, Yachi x Reader aka a Karasuno first-year gangbang (Takes place when they’re all third years.)

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Toxic Relationships, Rape/Non-con, Degradation

Summary: You should have trusted your gut when you first felt the wandering eyes and lingering stares, but now it’s too late and you’ll learn first hand what it feels like to be utterly defeated by a murder of crows.

Requested by Anon

You’re not quite sure how exactly you’ve found yourself here in a gym full of sweaty athletes, hauling a basket of ice cold water bottles to the sidelines with your best friend, Yachi, but here you are. With a loud thud, both of you drop the heavy container down and grab the pile of towels just in time for the boys who are quickly approaching you, splattering droplets of sweat everywhere and you crinkle your nose and playfully pretend to gag as they draw near. Tsukishima rolls his eyes at your antics, but he nods his head in thanks as he grabs a clean towel from you. You patiently wait as some other team members relieve you of the pile of fabric in your hands before Yachi and you sit on the bench as Yamaguchi and Coach Ukai order the team to gather around as they discuss practice drills.

You smile fondly at the way Yamaguchi confidently holds himself as he stands next to Coach Ukai with shoulders squared and a serious, but kind face directed at the rest of the team. To think that the shy Yamaguchi you had met when Yachi had first started helping out the team during your first year would grow to be the respectable captain that he is now. But he’s not the only one who’s gone through drastic changes and you look over the rest of the third-years intently listening to him. Hell, you even turn to briefly look at Yachi and yourself. When you had become friends with Yachi at the beginning of high school you barely knew what volleyball was, let alone thought of managing the team and yet here you both are as third-years, decked out in the black Karasuno warm-up track suit.

Yachi was your first and best friend by far of the group, but you can’t deny that over the last two years you’ve also gotten closer to the rest of the boys in the same year as you. Well, you suppose they technically aren’t boys anymore. A faint smile plays on your lips as you reminisce on all the memories you’ve shared together between study sessions that somehow became just tutoring sessions as you all tried to force information into Hinata and Kageyama’s heads and exhausted nights where all of you slumped in front of Coach Ukai’s store eating meat buns and chatting away until he kicked all of you out and made you go home. But that smile turns downwards when you think about some of the more recent and less positive changes in your friends.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. You know the six of you are exceptionally close, almost weirdly close, but you had just chalked it up to the fact that you all see each other for hours every day between classes, volleyball, and after school and weekend study sessions and hangouts. Yet that doesn’t stop the slight unease from growing inside of you as you observe the increasingly strange behaviors your friends exhibit and it’s only become more...physical...now that you’re all in your third year and officially all adults.

You had visibly winced when Yachi had first introduced you to Hinata and the orange haired ball of energy had decided to scream a greeting at you, but you couldn’t keep the wide grin from spreading across your face as you got swept up in his enthusiasm. Every moment with him felt like riding an exhilarating roller coaster and maybe that’s why you barely noticed how strange it was that he came knocking on your door almost every single day asking you to come hang out or jog with him, how strange it was that he texted you as soon as you got up, blowing up your phone all day until you went to sleep. You were so caught up in the wild ride that Hinata Shouyou was that you never had the chance to get off and think about how you had even gotten on this ride in the first place and when was the last time you had been able to take a break from it. You were still flipping upside down in loops as you entered your third year and the ride just became more intense as he began wrapping his wiry arms around you at practice, nonchalantly talking to the rest of the team with your body firmly pulled against him and his chin resting on your shoulder. You had shooed him off of you the first few times, but he had turned his huge puppy eyes on you and no one else on the team seemed to care, so you just went along with it.

Kageyama took a little more time to warm up to you, but you didn’t take it personally knowing how reserved he was. However, over time and after a particularly long study session you had personally sat with him through, he had left a carton of his favorite milk on your desk and you had beamed at the innocent object. He started hovering around you more after that. The two of you never really spoke much, but you enjoyed the peaceful and comfortable quiet that surrounded both of you and yet, despite his silence, you noticed that he spoke loudly through his actions. You were beyond shocked the first time you had sat down to lunch with him, ready to dig into your food, when he had frowned at your bento, taken it from you, and removed some of your rice while adding more meat and vegetables without saying a single word to you. Mouth still open in disbelief, you had pierced him with a questioning look only to receive a muttered reply about making sure you were eating a balanced diet. Your heart had fluttered at the endearing reasoning, but it had become a bit strange later on when he would hand feed you, practically shoving a stalk of broccoli or a piece of chicken in your mouth even at times that you said you were too full to eat anymore. But that just meant Kageyama cared for you, right? You know the boy’s terrible when it comes to social interactions, so you shrug it off.

Yamaguchi has arguably gone through the most dramatic personality change since you had first met him and you’re so proud of the confident leader he’s become. But even in your second year with him, you had sworn that sometimes there was a hint of something...darker, hungry...something lurking underneath his shy facade that made you shiver in fear. But every time you tried to take a closer look it disappeared only to be replaced with a soft gaze. And now that he’s fully grown into himself, he’s become more physical with everyone, casually slinging his arms around everyone’s shoulders and backs in a comforting, friendly manner as he rallies up team morale. But you can almost swear that when he slings an arm around you in thanks or in greeting, his arm gets progressively lower to the point that you almost recoil from him when you feel his hand brush against the hem of your skirt. But he’s always quick to move away from you and you wonder if all of it is just your imagination or an accident on his part.

You're briefly distracted from your thoughts as loud shouting fills the gym and your eyes are drawn to Tsukishima’s figure as it leaps through the air and blocks a spiked ball. Honestly, you’re surprised you’re even friends with him, let alone close friends. He had been nice enough to not insult you like he did with the rest of the boys, but on the other hand, he rarely spoke even a word to you or acknowledged your presence. But as you hung out with the group more, you noticed the tall shadow that seemed to always walk beside you between classes, to the cafeteria, and back home. And he’d only grown bolder in your last year, wrapping a large hand around your wrist and forcefully dragging you with him when the both of you were running late for volleyball practice. You were so caught up in keeping up with his long strides and complaining loudly about his tight grip on you that you didn’t notice the terrifying glares he shot at any male who even looked at you as the two of you walked through the school halls.

And finally, Yachi, your sweet and adorable best friend. The two of you had hit it off right away as soon as you met each other and it was like you were connected at the hip ever since. You can’t even keep track of the amount of sleepovers, weekend trips, day trips, girl talks, and everything else you’ve done together. But you had found it a little weird when she had slept over for the first time after both of you had officially turned eighteen and insisted on sleeping in the same futon as you. Assuming she was just feeling a bit lonely and nostalgic, you let her slip under the covers with you and drifted off to sleep, unaware of the hand wandering across your resting figure. After that night, she kept on finding her way into your futon and it soon just became the norm for the both of you and you grew accustomed to falling asleep with her body heat next to yours, your dreams suddenly full of feather light touches.

Yes, they’ve all definitely changed since you first met them all, but they’re still your closest friends despite all their new quirks, and perhaps it’s just the natural transition of entering adulthood that’s affected them. People change. You aren’t kids anymore. Of course they’d be different now. But that conviction struggles to stick in your mind when you’re stuck in the gym alone with all of them after practice every day. Yamaguchi’s always quick to dismiss the first and second years the minute practice is done and he politely assures the coaches that you all would be fine cleaning up the equipment and locking the gym up as he bids them good night. It becomes normal for the six of you to take down the nets and round up all the volleyballs and yet your hackles rise as you swear you can feel multiple pairs of eyes intensely staring at you as you bend over to pick up stray balls. You swear you feel a hand drag and linger across your ass as someone helps you lower the net. You swear it almost feels like they want to devour you as they linger a moment too long in the doorway of the equipment room, not immediately letting you pass when you try to exit. But you have no proof and the moments happen so fast that you wonder if you’re just becoming more paranoid for no reason.

You really should have trusted your gut.

There’s an excited buzz in the air as the team hops off of the bus and intermingles with the Tokyo teams. It’s the first training camp of the year and everyone’s busy catching up with old friends and meeting new people. You struggle to lift a bag of equipment and almost drop it when a hand reaches out and catches it before it hits the ground. Stunned by the surprising interaction, you quickly whip around and smile when you see Inuoka beaming down at you. The two of you hug and he walks with you to the dorm rooms, helping you carry everything as both of you catch up, unaware of the many pairs of eyes darkly staring at your backs.

Karasuno has always been close to Nekoma and that hasn’t changed over the years, so when the teams aren’t practicing, you happily joke around with the Nekoma third-years, laughing at Lev’s stupid shenanigans and conversing with Inuoka and Shibayama. A part of you feels guilty for not spending more time with your own team, but it’s so rare that you get an ample amount of time with your Nekoma friends and you brush the feeling off. Surely your friends would understand. But the narrowed eyes, clenched fists, and tight jaws across the room are hardly understanding as they lock in on the sight of Lev excitedly grabbing your hands as he asks you something, the sight of Inuoka resting his hand on your shoulder as he talks, the sight of Shibayama’s eyes lingering a bit too long on your face when he thinks you aren’t looking.

The week flies by and all too soon it’s the last night of camp and you horse around with the Nekoma boys, loudly shouting and fooling around well past curfew. But you know the coaches are turning a blind eye to any mischief tonight, letting you all do as you want as a thank you for all your hard work and dedication. Inuoka and Shibayama are cheering you on as you have Lev in a headlock, but all of a sudden your phone vibrates and you reluctantly release the lanky giant before opening up the unread text.

From Yachi: Come hang out with the rest of the third-years and me! It’s probably going to be our last training camp all together so we want to make some new memories together.

Guilt gnaws at your heart when you read her message and you immediately rise and say goodbye to the rowdy boys before rushing off to your own team. The Karasuno third-year boys had managed to secure their own dorm room and you excitedly open the door only to yelp as a hand grabs you by the collar of your shirt and you vaguely register the sound of the door slamming shut as you’re shoved to the ground and adjusted until you’re on all fours. You try to shove off the hands that are tearing off your clothes, but tired of your flailing, Tsukishima wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes and squeezes until you stop you’re struggling, choosing instead to wheeze and claw at the arm restricting your air flow and only when you’re completely naked with Kageyama pressed tightly behind you, holding your waist in a bruising grip, does he let go.

You gasp for breath as you stare up at the blonde with teary eyes. “Why are you guys doing this?” You pray that it’s all a terrible joke, just a prank gone out of hand, but you flinch as Tsukishima sneers down at you.

“What? Upset that we aren’t your Nekoma boyfriends instead? Tell me, if we hadn’t asked you to come here, would you be letting them fuck you all night long? Of course you would, you fucking slut. You have four cocks and a pussy literally just waiting for you to say the word and they’d be all yours, but no, you just had to go off and be a little whore, letting those fucking cats put their paws all over you instead. We don’t share. You’re ours, do you understand?”

Tsukishima smirks at the fear in your eyes. “Well, even if you your stupid little bimbo brain can’t understand that now, it’ll be engrained in your mind and body after we’re all through with you tonight. Open your mouth.” You try to twist your face away as he lowers his pants, letting his cock spring out and hit your face, but his hand threateningly hovers over your throat once more and you obediently take him into your mouth. He’s so long and you begin to gag with only half of him inside of you. With an irritated sigh, he painfully grabs you by the roots of your hair and forcefully shoves the rest of his length down your throat and you try to scream around the object stretching your jaw, but you’re muffled as he starts pistoning his hips in and out of your wet cavern and tears stream down your face as your throat burns from the abuse. You’re so distracted by the struggle of trying to breathe that you don’t even notice the movement behind you until you feel something hard nudging past your entrance and shame washes over you at Kageyama’s words.

“She’s already so wet.” You clench your eyes shut as Tsukishima laughs and only ruts into your mouth faster. “God, you’re pretending to cry and hate it, but you love this, don’t you? You love being fucked from both ends. You’re such a fucking cock slut.” He emphasizes each word with a harsh thrust and your eyes roll back as his tip hits the back of your throat at the same time that Kageyama bottoms out into you. You’re so full and you swear your jaw might unhinge itself from trying to accommodate Tsukishima’s cock and yet you can’t help the way your hips start rocking back to meet Kageyama’s thrusts as he takes his time sliding in and out of you at a languid pace, relishing the feeling of your tight walls clenching and sliding across every inch of his shaft.

You shake your head as much as you can with Tsukishima’s fingers still tightly interwoven in your locks, trying to deny the degrading accusations Tsukishima relentlessly spits at you, but you can’t help the moan that escapes you as Tsukishima curses and pulls out, hurriedly giving himself a few more strokes before painting your face with thick white streaks. Your cunt unconsciously clenches from the humiliation of being so lewdly marked and Kageyama hisses before increasing his pace and you collapse to your elbows as Kageyama desperately chases his end while Tsukishima crouches in front of you, reaching around to play with your clit. And despite the horribleness of the entire situation, you can’t help but fall apart and your quivering walls are all it takes for Kageyama to release deep inside of you.

Kageyama has enough foresight to at least gently lower you down to the floor after he pulls out of you and you lay there on the hard surface, wishing it would just swallow you whole and take you anywhere from here. But of course that doesn’t happen and you weakly sob when you hear Yamaguchi’s soft, but commanding voice ordering you to kneel in front of him. You raise yourself up on shaky arms and move to stand up, but Tsukishima’s hand keeps you down. “Crawl like the bitch that you are.” You tremble from emotional and physical exhaustion as you make your way towards the captain, placing one hand and foot in front of the other, and you cringe at the feeling of Kageyama’s cum beginning to trickle down your inner thigh, but soon enough you’re in between his thighs as he sits on a chair above you.

His cock is already out and even though he’s not as big as Tsukishima, your mouth still goes dry at the thought of trying to take him in your still aching mouth. You begin to lick him, taking in just his tip and swirling your tongue around him before delicately licking down his entire length, anything to buy you some time before you need to use your mouth again, but you push off of him with a scream, your hands tightly clutching his thighs as Hinata slides underneath your spread legs and licks a long stripe across your pussy. Yamaguchi is patient with you, enjoying the way drool begins to leak out the sides of your mouth as you moan from Hinata’s enthusiastic licks, but his cock twitches at a high pitched whine that exits your throat and he places a hand on your head and firmly pushes you back down to his leaking cock.

You’re sloppy, unable to fully control your mouth as you moan and drool while Hinata’s tongue pushes inside of you, tasting every inch of you. But the sight of you slobbering all over his cock and the debauched mess of it all only makes it feel better for Yamaguchi and he can’t help the way his hips buck up into you when he finally finishes and he hungrily drinks in the sight of your throat swallowing every drop of him. Your thighs begin to clench and your body is taut as you can feel another climax quickly approaching and when Yamaguchi casually twists and pulls your nipples with his fingers, your back sharply arches as you open your mouth in a silent scream. You stay in that shape for a few seconds until the pleasure begins to ebb away and you try to move away, but Hinata’s arms wrap around you, holding you in place, and you wail as he earnestly continues lapping and sucking at every inch of your drenched pussy that he can reach. Your upper body collapses into Yamaguchi’s lap as he tenderly strokes your hair and it feels like ages before Hinata finally reliquinches his grip on you and moves out from under you.

You shakily whimper as Yamaguchi soothingly whispers into your ear about what a good slut you are, how beautiful you look when you’re falling apart because of them, but you have no energy to push yourself away from him and you lay there, with your face in between his thighs and your arms splayed over his legs. You can feel your eyelids fluttering shut and just when you think you’ll at least be able to escape into the shelter of your own unconsciousness, strong hands pull you off of Yamaguchi and lay you flat on your back. It’s not comfortable, but you’re at least glad to finally relieve your knees which you’re sure will be black and blue tomorrow. But any small consolation you felt instantly dissipates when you see Hinata hovering over you and you don’t even have a second to understand what’s happening before he shoves his entire length into you in one swift motion.

After being stretched out by Kageyama and thoroughly lubricated with the sticky mix of your own juices and the setter’s cum, Hinata easily slides in and there’s no pain as he fills you, but this new position means there’s nowhere for you to hide your face from the predatory eyes staring down at you and the humiliation is so much worse as you’re fully aware of Hinata intently staring at your slutty fucked out expression as he continuously rams in and out of you. Your eyes are so far back in your head that it’s hard to clearly see and maybe that’s why you don’t notice the growing shadow covering your face until it’s too late and your nose and mouth are covered by a musky warm scent. Sex. It smells like sex. You rapidly blink the pleasure from your eyes as you try to focus your vision, but you wish you hadn’t when the image of Yachi’s small breasts bouncing above you as she rides your face sears itself into your brain. You try to close your mouth as tightly as you can, refusing to service the woman above you, but it’s so hard to breathe with her pussy covering the bottom half of your face and accidental moans are forced from you as Hinata continues railing into you, which only cause Yachi to grind and moan more as the vibrations from your mouth stimulate her slick heat.

Later you’ll try and convince yourself that it was just survival instinct, just you trying to do what you needed to do to breathe, to have everything be over and that you aren’t eagerly drinking Yachi’s essence that never seems to stop flowing on your face as your lips and tongue explore every inch of her more intimately than you’d ever dreamed of doing. You’ll deny you felt any pleasure despite the wanton moans you can’t stop releasing and the powerful orgasm that wracks through your body as Hinata’s cum mixes with the mess between your legs and as Yachi’s hips stutter as she smears her release all over your face. But for now you lay there, in a pool of your own liquids and the fluids of the five people towering over your limp and used body, drowning in the dangerously intoxicating pleasure they’ve submerged you in.

A tiny screeching voice inside of your head tells you to get up, get away and despite the dazed state you’re in, your hands attempt to push you up and it feels like you’re stuck in molasses as you excruciatingly slowly push yourself up into a sitting position and it takes everything left inside of you to feebly move your legs as you attempt to rise. But just when you almost have your feet underneath you, something is pressed against your chest and you’re pushed back down and you whimper at the heavy embarrassing weight of the foot squarely planted in the middle of your chest, stepping on you, keeping you down. Tsukishima’s never looked taller as he leers down at you.

“That’s cute. Did you really think we’d let you just get up and walk away from us? We’re nowhere near done with you. We’re not stopping until we literally fuck you to sleep and make sure that your body is so worn out that we know you’ll be safe and sound in your own futon tonight and not sneaking off to whore yourself out to anyone else.”

And if you’ve learned anything from managing this team, it’s that they’re relentless in the pursuit of their goals and for the first time since you’ve managed them, you feel a pang of pity for the teams they’ve crushed and destroyed, wondering if this is how all their opponents feel as the five of them pounce on you with the intent of thoroughly dominating and conquering you.

#haikyuu yandere #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu smut #kageyama x reader #tsukishima x reader #yamaguchi x reader #yachi x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #tw: noncon #tw: rape

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padawanlost · 3 years

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Hello there! I just wanted to ask about something that’s been confusing me real quick: did Anakin lord over others with his Chosen One status or not? Because I thought he was insecure, disliked all the expectations that came with it, and didn’t really believe in that old prophecy to begin with. But, in Jude Watson’s books he thinks he deserves all these things because of it and rubs that status in other faces? I just need some clarity please lol thank you so much and I adore your blog ❤️

No, not at all. If anything, one of Anakin’s biggest difficulties was to assert himself in front of others (specially people in power).

This is a man who is considered a hero of the galaxy, of the most powerful jedi ever, married, soon to be father, beloved and respect by his men and even complete strangers…yet…look at how easily he submits.

If Anakin had been anything like some ‘fans’ like to pretend he was, he wouldn’t be the character portrayed on screen. He’d more like characters like Tony Stark, someone who is completely confident in his abilities and is not ashamed to admit it. But that’s NOT the character we see on screen, or anywhere else for that matter.

The Jedi Council didn’t want me, either. Being the Chosen One didn’t count for anything. Master Yoda wouldn’t train me, or Windu. Every member of the Jedi Council had had something more pressing to do than help him work out what this terrible, galaxy-changing power of his meant, and how he should live in its shadow. He still wasn’t sure. Anakin recalled standing there in that grand, polished Jedi Council Chamber, surrounded by what felt like fear, and disdain, and bewilderment—who were those Masters to feel bewildered, that the only person there who cared if he lived or died was Master Qui-Gon Jinn. And they stopped him training the Chosen One. Qui-Gon hadn’t cared what the Jedi Council said. He’d trained him anyway, a Padawan in all but name. Why am I thinking of all this now? Haven’t I put it behind me? Haven’t I had enough bad memories since then to take their place? Haven’t I vindicated Master Qui-Gon? [Karen Traviss. The Clone Wars]

Anakin enjoyed praise from Obi-Wan, but often became sullen when he was reprimanded. Obi-Wan assured him that he himself had been frequently reminded by Qui-Gon to be more mindful of the Force, but somehow even the slightest criticism managed to leave Anakin feeling stung. First they tell me to do my best, then they tell me I’ve gone too far! ANAKIN SKYWALKER IN THE RISE AND FALL OF DARTH VADER BY RYDER WINDHAM

Despite Anakin’s desire to distance himself from the slave he had once been, he was unable, or unwilling, to shed the other aspects that had defined him on Tatooine. He still dreamed of glory, still craved adventure, and never lost his appetite for high-speed thrills and the desire to prove himself in competition. THE RISE AND FALL OF DARTH VADER BY RYDER WINDHAM

Anakin was liked by the other students, but he had no close friends. He was not loved. Obi-Wan told himself that Anakin’s gifts naturally set him apart. But in his heart, he grieved for Anakin’s loneliness. JUDE WATSON [JEDI QUEST: THE WAY OF THE APPRENTICE]

Just when Anakin thought he’d passed that elusive finishing line that said adult, experienced, seen it all, he realized he was still twenty, Jedi or not, and the wounded boy in him still rose to the surface—provoked into angry violence, scared of abandonment, and still in need of approval. KAREN TRAVISS [STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS NOVELIZATION]

[Obi-Wan] knew, glancing at his Padawan’s eager face, that Anakin meant well from the bottom of his heart. If Obi-Wan saw a shadow on that heart, he knew it would pain his Padawan to know it. In many ways, Anakin was still a boy. A wounded, loving, anxious boy with great gifts he did not fully understand. Yet he was also a young man, close to maturity, who could do great harm. To others, yes. To himself, most of all JUDE WATSON [JEDI QUEST: THE SCHOOL OF FEAR]

“I just…” Anakin stopped. He took a ragged breath. “I thought you would be proud of me.” I am proud of you. Obi-Wan wanted to say the words. They were true. He was proud of so much in Anakin. But now was not the time to tell him that. Or was it? JUDE WATSON [JEDI QUEST: THE SCHOOL OF FEAR]

Fixing broken machines was like a meditation. Fixing broken machines was an antidote to every pain, every loss, every fear, every defeat. Fixing broken machines kept him from going mad. CLONE WARS GAMBIT: STEALTH

You are very observant, Ferus, but you must accept that I know him better than you,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “Anakin can be arrogant. I know that. But he is also learning and growing. He is respectful of his great power. He does not abuse it. He is younger than you, but he has seen much injustice, many terrible things. I do not think it so wrong that he wants to change things. You must understand that it isn’t ambition that drives him. It is compassion. OBI-WAN KENOBI IN STAR WARS – JEDI QUEST: THE CHANGING OF THE GUARD BY JUDE WATSON

Taking them, she looked up at him and shook her head, even though it still ached. “It’s odd. You’re nothing like I expected.” “Why?” he said, perching on the edge of the nearby chair. “What did you expect?” “I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” That made him smile. “As opposed to what?” She swallowed the pain-tabs, washing them down with a mouthful of water. “Oh. You know. The HoloNet news—it portrays as you as this—this—heroic warrior. Larger than life. Charging into battle, lightsaber flashing. Scourge of the Separatists. That kind of thing.” She shrugged. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

“Ten years in this place, and still he was an object of interest. Of speculation. All their hopes and dreams hanging on him like decorations on a bantha skeleton at Boonta Eve. He hated it.” [Clone Wars: Wild space, Karen Miller]

[Anakin] did not like the fact that he had won. It seemed wrong that he had stepped so far out of line, and yet had been retained as a Padawan. He did not like the unease this victory, if victory it was, produced in him. Above all weaknesses, arrogance was the most costly. They keep me here because I have potential they’ve never seen before. They keep me in training because they’re curious to see what I can do. I feel like a rich man who never knows whether his friends are true-or whether they just want his money. This was a particularly galling thought, and certainly neither true nor fair. Why do they put up with me, then? Why do I keep testing them? [Greg Bear’s Rogue Planet]

The only piece of media where Anakin is more ‘openly’ arrogant is in The Clone Wars (2008) but even then, he doesn’t flaunt his alleged ‘status’ over everyone. His arrogance is reflected more through his disobedience, not open defiance and antagonist behavior towards his peers.

But hey, what do Hayden Christensen, George Lucas and most Star Wars writers know? lol

PS: thank you! <3

#ask #skybiee #anakin skywalker #sw meta #meta: anakin #txt

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emblemxeno · 3 years

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Fire Emblem Fates: Personal Arcs and Thematic Parallels for the Royal Siblings

Introduction

As we all know by now, the royal siblings of Fates are all mirrors and contrasts with one another.

Xander and Ryoma are the wise and kind elder brothers who have the weight of their kingdoms’ futures on their shoulders, however Xander is an anxious stoic entrenched in state of denial who worked hard to get as strong as he is, whereas Ryoma is a charismatic natural talent, a huge hothead and has major prejudice issues.

Camilla and Hinoka are the caring elder sisters, with Camilla being overbearing and feminine and Hinoka being stubborn and tomboyish.

Leo and Takumi are the intelligent younger brothers who face massive self esteem issues (in regards to their older brothers) and jealousy (in regards to Corrin), but while Leo’s problems are hidden under a layer of cold pragmatism and isolation, Takumi’s are front and center since he is very emotionally volatile.

Elise and Sakura are the sweet and compassionate little sisters, with Elise being excitable and cheery and Sakura being shy and timid.

However, these aren’t the only parallels that exist between the siblings. More parallels are discovered when you look at the story closely. Especially when you lock down each of their personal arcs. Furthermore, close analysis reveals other interesting parallels, namely for Leo and Hinoka in regards to their brothers, Xander and Ryoma.

Themes, Arcs and Developments: Hoshido & Birthright

The development for the Hoshido siblings and the Birthright path is belief in others, collaboration and tolerance. The siblings start off separated from each other, with Takumi and Ryoma going missing and Hinoka having already left to go find them.

Corrin’s belief in others gets tested through being double crossed by Zola, and the possibility of there being a traitor in the party. Nevertheless, his doubts don’t consume him, and his belief in himself and others gets him through tragedy. Many times in the story, trust and working together gets brought up, like during Chapter 14 where Corrin asks if anyone’s reluctant to move forward with the invasion, but his siblings reassure him. The same thing occurs when Corrin learns about the Rainbow Sage; at first he says if he needs to go alone, he will. But again, his siblings make sure to come with and support him. This dovetails into how the siblings personally develop as well.

Through Corrin accepting Sakura’s pleas to come with them, Sakura goes from meek and unsure princess to a strong willed young woman who’s able to punch Iago in the dick. Through being reassured and believed in by his family, Takumi goes from a prickly skeptic to a confident and heartfelt prince. Through learning of Nohr’s plight and accepting that he can’t do everything alone, Ryoma goes from a stubborn and prejudiced high prince to a tolerant King who seeks to break boundaries and misconceptions, walking hand in hand with his former enemy. The siblings enjoy their newfound perspective and the peace that comes with it; the peace their mother cherished.

Themes, Arcs and Developments: Nohr and Conquest

The development for the Nohrian siblings and the Conquest path is moving on to the future, where justice lies and change. Nohr and the siblings are set in their ways; doing what needs to be done to survive. Upon his return to Nohr, Corrin seeks to change that necessity and bring an era where Nohr can seek glory through mutual respect, not oppression. His willpower gets tested constantly; at times he succeeds in settling things peacefully, at other times he fails or his plan backfires. Still he moves on, working behind the scenes toward his own path of justice, along with his siblings who have done the same for much longer than he has.

Through Corrin’s leadership and conviction, Xander is shown the truth, and from that leaves behind his entrenched way of thinking. He grows from a scared crown prince set in his ways, into a benevolent King promising to bring prosperity to his kingdom through his own sense of justice. Camilla is able to cut away from the same mindset, no longer being afraid of the monster her father has become. Her love for her family outgrows her fear of Garon, the fear that was established during the aftermath of the Cheve rebellion. Elise starts out naive and innocent, but playing a part in the tragedies that unfold gives her perspective. When she first meets Sakura, she’s childish and selfish, but later comforts the Hoshidan princess during a time of great pain. At the end of the route, the two are fast friends as a result of Elise’s compassion. The siblings enjoy the light they are able to bring to their kingdom and the future they seek to walk towards.

The Outliers

But in all that, there remain two siblings whom I didn’t really name specifics for: Hinoka and Leo. This is because, other than the general development of the siblings as a collective and the themes of their routes, they don’t really change too much. Leo starts as the pragmatic executioner who imparts the course which Corrin begins to take, and remains as such later in Conquest. Hinoka is the stoic and determined princess whose concern is the protection of those she cares for, and she remains as such later in Birthright. Neither seems to have personal growth to accomplish other than the general themes of their routes.

That is, until you look at the routes in which you oppose them.

In fact, a new form of development occurs for all of the siblings when you oppose them, and with that, come new parallels.

Opposing Paths and New Parallels

Xander and Ryoma remain each other’s mirror and contrast. On the respective paths that you oppose them on, they are the notable threat to overcome later in the game. You encounter both of them in earlier chapters as well, and both of their maps are escape objectives; this shows in gameplay how much stronger they are compared to Corrin and how it is the smarter decision to pull back and regroup. They both can’t forgive Corrin for betraying their kingdom and family, but while Xander accepts Corrin has turned traitor, Ryoma is intent on bringing him back by any means necessary. Upon Elise’s death at his hand, Xander falls into despair and forces Corrin to strike him down. Ryoma on the other hand, sacrifices himself to spare Corrin the hardship of striking him down when he realizes his brother is still the kind soul he thought he was.

The elder brothers are the ultimate test of Corrin’s resolve, to see if he’s ready to finish the path he started. The loss of these two are a tragedy, and the impact is felt in many ways.

Takumi and Elise gain new mirrors and contrasts with each other. For starters, each of them get inflicted with illness and reveal a truth they wouldn’t otherwise have awareness of during their delirium. It’s the suffering of these two that gets highlighted the most on routes you oppose them. Elise is miserable from her family being broken apart, and has to escape her home just to find some semblance of joy. Takumi meanwhile, lashes out more and more against Corrin, becoming more volatile and suffering from constant headaches. Elise only fights you once (and even then she’s an optional fight), while Takumi fights you the most out of any other sibling. Both of them end up losing their lives through indirect means; Elise throws herself in front of Xander’s sword in a bid to get him to stop fighting. Takumi throws himself off the Great Wall of Susano-o, blinded by rage, frustration and sadness.

Takumi and Elise are major victims of this war and the path Corrin chose, victims who expressed their misery in different ways.

Camilla and Sakura are each other’s mirror and contrast. These two probably have the most difficult parallels to pin down, but they are there nonetheless. When Corrin chose Hoshido, Camilla lost her security; her family is broken apart and she can’t do anything to stop it. She is forced to accept that Corrin has left her to join Hoshido, and finally comes to terms with it after her second encounter. When Corrin chose Nohr, Sakura lost her solace; her country is being invaded, she had just lost her mother and now her older sibling is choosing to go back to the kingdom responsible for her suffering. She is forced to suck it up and defend her home on the from the front lines. Instead of development coming naturally due to positive reveals and encouragements, both sisters are forced to change in order not to break entirely.

Camilla and Sakura are loving sisters who now have to accept a harsh reality during and after a war they had no control of.

Bear the Crown, Bear the Development

That leaves Hinoka and Leo, and this is where they each get major development as opposed to their native routes.

Hinoka and Leo were spared by Corrin after thinking they were gonna be killed, and eventually the thrones fall to them when the war concludes. After all, Hoshido favors kings over queens so if it wasn’t Ryoma, it would be Takumi. Nohr has an age based inheritance, so if it wasn’t Xander, it would be Camilla. Leo and Hinoka never dreamed it would be up to them to lead their kingdoms. When they bear the crown, they bear the weight of a responsibility they never expected.

However, when looking at it closely, it seems they also bear the character development their older brothers would’ve had.

Leo has battled feelings of inadequacy and jealousy in regards to his siblings already, but Corrin choosing Hoshido causes those feelings to surface. He’s angry and hurt over it all, but hides that under a layer of cold-bloodedness. Leo, promising to kill Corrin at every turn, thinks of his brother as dead to him. However, Leo later finds himself. When talking with Corrin and seeing the truth about Garon, he realizes that Nohr doesn’t have to remain the way it is in order to survive.

Leo at the end of Birthright begins to feel similar to Xander at the end of Conquest.

Hinoka has dealt with the guilt of Corrin’s kidnapping for over a decade. She became strong by choosing the path of the warrior as opposed of the princess. When Corrin chooses Nohr, she is in disbelief; after all, why would her brother return to to his kidnappers? She resolves to defeat him, and thinks of her dream of being a family again as a fantasy that will never come to fruition. However, Hinoka later believes otherwise. When talking with Corrin and seeing him and his Nohrian siblings work to end the war in a different way, she realizes that Hoshido’s beliefs about Nohr are wrong and that those misconceptions must be cleared.

Hinoka at the end of Conquest begins to feel similar to Ryoma at the end of Birthright.

Conclusion

Leo and Hinoka each become the rulers that their kingdoms needed. They fill the space left by Xander and Ryoma. They don’t have personal arcs on their native routes nor on Revelation because there’s no absence to be filled; they can remain as they are, rather than be bound by the weight of the crown. Their rule as monarchs is bittersweet, for it’s a role neither of them expected, but they perform said role well nonetheless.

That’s, at least, how I feel about all of this. Of course, this whole thing isn’t a perfect interpretation, nor does the game handle this aspect as well as it could have. Hinoka still lacks in number of notable appearances compared to pretty much every other sibling; hell, there are even scenes in Birthright where every sibling except Hinoka appear. Leo, meanwhile, has many more scenes of importance, especially since he wields a divine weapon and his big hero moment triggers the Yato’s transformation during Conquest. The negative effects of Hinoka’s later addition are still very present, and it’s something that I hope would be done better in a possible Fates remaster.

As it stands now though, I still think all of this is done well enough for everything I described. Fates’ story is smarter than one might think, and I believe all of this is an example of that.

#fire emblem #fire emblem fates #fire emblem if #fe14 #hinoka fire emblem #leo fire emblem #ryoma fire emblem #xander fire emblem #takumi fire emblem #elise fire emblem #sakura fire emblem #camilla fire emblem #corrin fire emblem #meta #storytelling

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pot-of-terv · 3 years

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Disclaimer: This starts soft but very quickly goes to a place I did NOT expect it to go so, just, be prepared. I guess there were some things my muse just couldn’t leave untouched :_D There’s also an additional drawing in there somewhere among the text. The ending is kind of a cliffhanger (dun dun duuun... part three is coming!!) but it’s happy (hurt/comfort y’all, MY BRAND)!

Also I have to say- oh my goodness this ended up having over 2,000 words and I’ve never written a fic this long! This feels pretty amazing but also, very scary, because as you know I’m a Finn so English is not my first language and this far I’ve stuck to just writing itty bitty things. Writing a story with multiple parts is also new to me, so wow, actually, thank you PuzzleJune for making me challenge myself in fresh and exciting ways 🥺

tw: breakdown

PuzzleJune2021, Week Two: Space (Quiet)

It is mesmerising. Intoxicating, even, Atem muses as he reaches up to rub his own sleep-soft face, eyes never leaving the still sleeping figure beside him. He shifts to lay on his side, slowly, with deliberate movements, trying to not disturb the quiet of the early morning.

Watching him sleep like this... I can feel the bed move when he moves and his warmth whenever he's close enough. I never had that before, he thinks and his heart clenches. I have it now.

Yuugi snorts in his sleep and Atem can't help but smile. That boy... no, that young man, has been through so much, too much, and yet he still sleeps so soundly. It's nothing short of incredible and the pharaoh wonders if he's ever met anyone more deserving of respect and admiration. Their journey thus far has only lasted for a couple of years and during that short time, the former spirit of the Millenium Puzzle has had the first-row seat to witnessing Yuugi's strength, his growth - how he slowly but surely had begun to trust himself.

Atem turns his gaze away from Yuugi and mulls over that thought. It hurts him somewhere deep in his core to remember how little worth Yuugi had seen in himself during those first months after Atem's consciousness awakened. He touches his chest where his heart is and leaves his hand there, feeling the slow rhythm beating under his palm.

That feeling of self-doubt could as well be his own, for he did think he was Yuugi for a while back then. It's a troubling realisation and he frowns at the ceiling. Despite not having any memories, how many of those insecurities had been Atem's own that he subconsciously reflected towards Yuugi's heart and by doing so unknowingly meddled with Yuugi's self-image as a whole? Objectively he knows that his emergence helped Yuugi gain confidence even though he didn't remember those first few times Atem took his place, but subjectively...? Atem's brows knit tighter together and he balls the hand that rests on his chest into a fist.

To call these thoughts troubling is an understatement. Suddenly Atem feels uncomfortably restless, he can't keep still, he needs space, he has to move. But moving would mean leaving the warm blankets and the even warmer form next to him and risk waking him in the process.

His chest feels so tight and it aches in a way Atem hasn't felt in millennia and he squeezes his eyes shut, holds his breath and with one swift movement pushes the blankets off of himself, sits up and rolls to the side to plant his feet onto the floor. The wood is cool under the bare soles of his feet and that sudden feeling makes him pause for a moment. He releases the breath he was holding.

It's almost funny how he already feels better. He glances over his shoulder to see if he had woken Yuugi up but the other youth seems undisturbed, still fast asleep. Relieved, Atem stands up... and doesn't know what to do. It's still practically night time and the house is silent. Mama Mutou and Grandpa will be getting up in one to two hours and Yuugi much later than that if his previous findings are to be trusted. Normally he would happily snooze the morning away with Yuugi but he doesn't want to go back to bed, the restlessness still buzzing under his skin even though that unpleasant tightness in his chest has ebbed and is now just a nuisance instead of actual, painful anxiety.

He turns around to face the bed so he can take another look at Yuugi, properly. A glance wasn't enough. Will never be enough, he realises all of a sudden. I want to be looking at Yuugi, and only Yuugi, forever. How can his heart feel so big and full but so small at the same time?

Atem is overwhelmed, not yet used to the absolute link between his feelings and his physical senses, and he lifts his hand once more to his chest, almost desperately grasping his shirt and pressing his fist against his heart, to feel the beat of it, and the warmth of his body.

He has this body now and he should be so, so thankful for it, but at this moment he can only feel guilt. He loves Yuugi but has still put him through so much and he knows, oh how he knows, that the trip to Egypt broke him. Atem had felt Yuugi mourn him weeks beforehand, felt his grief he so valiantly tried to conceal - too bad their bond at that point was the strongest it had ever been and Atem knew. It took everything in him to keep on going, to keep on telling himself that this was the right thing to do, this was how he could repay Yuugi's kindness and let him go on with his life, let him be free. He had heard the modern phrase “if you love them let them go”, and wouldn't that have been so grand? To prove his love in such a poetic, profound way?

All that in spite of Yuugi's feelings screaming at him that to be separated was the last thing he wanted.

Atem chuckles, a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite having shared such an extraordinary bond, communication had never been their strongest point, duels usually excluded, and talking about their feelings was not an exception. Still isn’t. They both had just kept on doing what they thought was the best for the other and in the process ended up wounding each other in ways that Atem isn't sure he can ever truly understand. Yesterday he had come down to the kitchen to find Yuugi folding laundry, eyes puffy and red, yet when he talked he sounded so happy. Atem had left it at that because there's nothing he could do when confronted by that smile that can put even the Sun in shade.

Slowly he realises that he's been staring at his partner for such a long time that it must be bordering on creepy. How did he get here from that warmth he first woke up to, from that love he so deeply feels for Yuugi? Why hasn’t he thought about these things before? It's like all he has in his head are questions with no answers to calm his mind. It's only been a week since... since it all should've ended, but didn't, all because of Atem's selfishness. Selfishness... and love. His own heart had broken when his life points counted down to zero and he saw the utter hopelessness he felt surface in his heart reflected right back at him on Yuugi's face. The memory of it is still so strong that he has to grit his teeth together to keep his jaw from trembling.

He hadn’t been able to stand that expression, to stand the knowledge that he was the cause of it. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough. The pride he had felt toward Yuugi's skill was completely overshadowed by the grief that hit him in waves, his legs feeling like lead as he slowly walked to Yuugi, his own voice distant to his ears as he offered words of consolation and praise. Empty words, they were, he knew it then and he knows it now. How could he ever leave this person who had gone through so much for him, because of him, who had loved him so fully, who had risked it all to be there for him in his quest to regain his memories even when knowing that the price for that would be too steep to consider if Yuugi ever stopped to do that?

Atem had never wanted to leave. He had learned to live again, to have friends, and grow as a person, no matter how minuscule that growth might have been. Yuugi had been him and then Yuugi had become his world. There's no other way to explain it. As much as Atem had longed for his memories, for those people he loved and lost all those thousands of years ago, he couldn't bear the thought of losing another family. Even when the prize would be to regain his first one.

But he had to. He had thought he had to.

Yet when he was just about to take the last step, he had faltered. Had wondered - does it have to be this way? What if there's another choice he could make?

And the gods had answered him. He didn't have to beg, he didn't have to fight, he just had to ask.

Just ask.

It had been so simple, in the end, so effortless. Of course, Atem asked for that third choice - or didn't really even ask, he didn't dare, he wished for it, his heart on the verge of breaking a second time. He had been painfully aware of his friends behind him, holding their breaths, waiting for the end. Atem felt their feelings wrap around him like a cloak and he bore the weight of it, accepted it, as he couldn't quite believe that it would be that easy to stay. So he had wished.

And that wish had been granted.

And now he is here.

Standing in the middle of the floor in Yuugi's room while Yuugi sleeps, hands closed into fists, both grasping his shirt now, holding back tears that threaten to spill forth. Wondering why did he even put Yuugi through all that, when in the end, it was for nothing? Oh, he thinks, oh, how it hurts. His own shortcomings, his own pain, the pain that he had caused others. Especially the pain that he had caused Yuugi. He hadn’t deserved it, he never deserved something so cruel and insincere as Atem's decision to leave had been.

A sob wrangles itself up and out of his mouth, he's not able to stop it in time and that breaks his resolve. He sways on his feet as tears force their way out and streak his cheeks, fall into his shirt and seep into the fabric as he hiccups and tries half-heartedly to stop it. He shouldn't be crying, not after everything he’s done. He doesn’t deserve to feel so sorry for himself - he should be the one to take responsibility, to carry that burden without a hitch. But, the thing is… at this moment, he’s no longer the prince-then-pharaoh from 3000 years ago. He’s no longer the amnesiac spirit occupying the Puzzle. He’s not the King of Games.

At this moment, he’s just a 16-year-old boy who is desperately trying to deal with every responsibility he’s imagined are only his to bear and failing spectacularly. So he cries, and cries, and he can no longer see with how blurry his eyes have gone. He prays Yuugi won't wake up to it, he just has to suffer through it and he'll be fine. Crying is fine, actually. He would laugh at himself if he could - aren't tears an actual luxury, after all? He wasn't able to cry his own tears with his own body before, but now he can.

There's a hand on his shoulder and Atem's heart drops into his stomach - oh no, now he's woken up - then another on the other side, then a tug, and Atem follows blindly. He's guided back to the bed and coaxed to sit down where a warm body presses against him and he's enveloped in an embrace.

Atem finds that he can't talk, he tries to draw breath to get the words out but sobs are the only thing he can produce and finally, he hears a voice call his name. It's so soft and warm and loving that Atem somehow feels worse and buries his head into Yuugi’s shoulder, his chest heaving and he almost wails from the struggle of it.

“Shh, other me. Cry it out. It helps. I know.”

He listens to Yuugi and does just that. It’s not easy to give up the reins but with Yuugi by his side, he finds the will to allow himself to succumb. He clutches his partner's shirt, holds him and is held in return, and lets himself cry. Lets his tears come like he's never done before and faced with the force of them, he feels like there's no end to it.

But there is an end. After a period of time that feels like an eternity, his sobs subside, his tears slow down, and he feels like he can finally loosen his hold of Yuugi's shirt to let blood flow into his fingers again. His nose feels snotty and he's sure there's no dry spot left on his partner's clothes and somehow that thought makes him laugh.

“See? All better now,” Yuugi murmurs against his temple and presses his lips there. That sign of affection almost makes Atem's eyes well up but he squeezes them shut, refusing to start crying all over again. He feels drained and empty and he's pretty sure he should be ashamed. He had woken Yuugi up and made him comfort him without asking but all he can feel is gratitude. Gratitude and love and endless adoration.

“Aibou,” he sniffles, voice congested and raw. He means to thank him but his throat closes up, yet Yuugi seems to catch his meaning.

“No need,” the shorter of the two says and Atem can feel his smile against his skin, “it's okay. You're okay, we're okay, everything's okay.”

Atem wants to argue but finds no energy for it. And - as he thinks about it, he realises that Yuugi is right.

They're okay.

He wraps his arms properly around Yuugi and squeezes, sighing softly. His mind is comfortably quiet now and he presses his ear against Yuugi's chest, listening to the beat of his heart (his heart's heart?) and feeling his own fall smoothly into the same rhythm. It's natural, it's right.

“I think,” he manages to croak out, “that we need to talk.”

Yuugi holds him closer and nods before pressing his face into Atem’s hair.

“Yeah,” he replies, sounding relieved, “we sure do, other me.”

#ygo dm #yugioh #puzzleshipping #puzzlespace #puzzlejune2021 #puzzlejune #puzzlequiet #atem #yuugi #tervdraws #tervdrabbles #fanart #fanfic #this bad boy can fit so many headcanons and projection in it #i am in the possession of the crybaby beam and i'm not afraid to use it (for real though. my agenda is to Normalize Boys Crying)#(no i will not be taking criticism)

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balmasedas · 4 years

Text

dearly departed. /

(gif is not mine).

PAIRING: din djarin x force sensitive!f-reader.

SUMMARY: au of 2x8 where reader exists instead of grogu (i'm sorry, baby).

WARNINGS: very slight description of torture, violence and blood. major angst.

WORD COUNT: 5k.

——————————————————————————

One day felt like a year.

A week onboard the light cruiser was hell and Moff Gideon was proven to be worse than the devil.

You’d barely slept and hunger constantly gripped your belly. You didn’t felt the urge to scream or to even beg for help, those instincts were long dead by now.

They were fascinated. A real Jedi or, at the very least, a live one, still yet to be properly trained (if you managed to survive this). So it wasn’t a surprise that because of their evil nature and in the name of “curiosity” you were obliged to use the Force until you fainted, over and over again.

It was a tragedy. In search of what would’ve been your home, you had found one with Din Djarin; and now the memories you'd learned to cherish seemed so far away in time that you started to doubt your mind.

(,,,)

Din sat against a rock; while you rested your back against his chest and between his legs. Just the two of you, the sound of the crackling fire and endless stars above your heads. You felt so little and yet, at the same time, that there was nothing that could stop you from conquering the entire galaxy.

“You got this.” his modulated voice came out lower than usual.

“Sh!” you silenced him with a half-smile. Your hand was extended, just a couple of meters away a small rock floated in the air, slowly approaching you. You’d tried it at least a dozen times and this one, you decided, would be the last.

Silence crept over you both. Too expectant to breathe for a few seconds.

You were certain, so confident. Then, fear invaded you. Your hand started to shake and so did the rock. You could feel yourself slowly losing control, anticipating a seemingly inevitable failure. You didn’t trust your power, having always been relegated to abandoning your true identity for your own (and everyone’s) safety.

Luckily, Din did have hope in you, and although he respected your wishes of quietness during this moment, it didn’t mean he couldn’t try to ease your mind through other means. After all, the Mandalorian felt more comfortable with actions than he felt with words.

So he snuck his hand beneath your hair and softly rubbed his thumb behind your ear, a soothing caress he often offered when you needed comfort.

It wasn’t a revelation that then, and only then, you felt enough peace to stabilize the Force and finally close your hand around the object.

“Oh!” both your eyes and mouth were wide open. You half turned towards Din — you were drunk in elation, still not wanting to miss the warmness of his body. “I got it!” you burst. You met his visor, but you could sense his eyes on you.

“What did I say?” he spoke. “You got this.”

You got this.

“I got this,” you mumbled, trying to hold on to comforting words carefully sheltered in your head.

You had been a prisoner of your own body for over a week now. Traveling only from your cell to the room you were currently held and vice versa. Having to extend your arm obediently when you were told so and use your powers as well.

Truth be told, there was nothing else you could do, except trying to keep your mind busy and start processing the facts: there were no (nor there would be) allies to your cause. You were alone and whatever the remains of the Empire had in store for you was still yet to be revealed.

Din would come for you, you were sure of that, but some hopeless part of your now broken soul was unsure he’d make it in time.

The door from your cell opened. A couple of troopers marched towards you. Between them, the man in the white coat you’d regularly seen since your arrival. He introduced himself by squeezing your arm, it was supposed to be gentle.

He wouldn't have done the same if you weren't cuffed and strapped into a stretcher. You thought about breaking free. Your hands around his neck, fear instead of the cockiness his eyes currently harbored.

The urge was sharp and violent and you enjoyed it while it lasted.

“How are you doing?” Like shit. You remained impassible.

He opened a case he’d been carrying and laid out the contents on a tray next to the bed. You knew what it was, you wish you didn’t. Needles of different sizes, scalpers, and syringes.

You winced when he took a needle and fitted it into a large syringe.

He smiled at you. "Be a good girl and stay still, will you?"

Fuck you. “Okay.” Even though you complied, both troopers were ordered to hold you down.

As usual, every movement from that moment was processed in slow motion. The doctor hovering the needle just a few millimeters over your skin, then, the hard cold steel piercing it. First a pinch; as it went deeper, burn; then ache. You wanted to trash but you couldn’t.

Your vision swam, and your head went thick. “It’s done.” was the last thing you heard before you blacked out.

(,,,)

“Are you seeing anything? Or are they supposed to see you?” Din queried, looking around.

You were sitting on top of the Seeing stone, drowned in confusion just like him. Still, you couldn’t help but giggle at his obvious deduction from the name of the place where you currently were.

“Yes, I-” you trailed off and furrowed your brows as you watched him thoroughly inspecting the rock. He was quiet, his thoughts were loud. Or maybe you just knew him too well by then. “… I see you” you tilted your head, reformulating your sentence into a question, “Are you searching for an interrupter, Din?”

He straightened his body and immediately backed away from it “No,” he was quick to deny. You kept your eyes fixated on him, and then a ghost of a smile appeared on your face. Finally, he corrected himself after a defeated sigh, “Yes.” he confessed.

You chuckled. You could’ve kissed him by then, if only you had the chance.

“I wish Ahsoka Tano would’ve told me more, but that’s not how it works.”

The Force seemed to be much more complex than you originally thought. And the Jedi you met in Corvus day’s ago should’ve cleared many things —instead, she baffled you, even more, shifting her entire demeanor when she sensed your connection with the Mandalorian.

Now, you were supposed to make contact with another Jedi without knowing how.

Din didn’t answer. He had left the previous planet just as frustrated as you, if not more.

“Well, look at the bright side—” you were cut by the sound of a ship circling the area. Both of you were immediately alarmed by its presence. Din ran to the edge of the mountain and followed it closely with his eyes. An attack craft was no good news. As much as he wished to complete the mission, there was no way he’d risk your safety. Both of you could come back later, he assumed.

He called your name, walking backward. “Time’s up, we gotta go.” he stopped abruptly when he finally turned around and saw you. He’d never seen anything of similar nature.

Your eyes were shut, strands of your hair floated like feathers in the breeze. Some kind of force shield had been erected around you. He screamed for you again. “Hey! Snap out of it, we gotta get out of here.” but wherever your mind was, it was far away from Tython now.

He even tried to pass through the force shield only to be violently expelled from it.

He grunted. The floor beneath him was hard, the realization he made hit harder: there was no way he could reach you.

His desperation only could grow when he spotted an unknown subject leaving the craft. “Dank Farrik!” he cursed. His hands were closed in tight fists, his gaze lingered on you. Leaving you was his last preference, he’d promised you he’d never do it until you were safe but it became the only viable option.

He had no power to interfere in whatever was happening to you up there, but he could take care of the problem on the bottom of that mountain.

Din pulled his blaster from the holder. “I’ll see if I can buy you some time.” he doubted you could hear him, but still he tried. “Can you please hurry up?” there was hesitation in his movement, his steps were slow and uncertain. Walking away from you had never felt so wrong, and yet he had no other choice if he wanted to protect you.

He would later learn that fear, desolation, and regret were very possible and present emotions in him as he could only stand and see the dark troopers taking you away.

(,,,)

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was your handcuffs.

The second thing was the light reflecting off them.

Your glance flickered from the Dark saber to Moff Gideon and then to the person he was talking to.

Until that moment, you weren’t sure if you were awake or hallucinating. But then everything became so real. His armor, his voice. As exhausted as you were, you took your time to caress Din with your eyes.

He was alive. Whole. Here.

You were in a dream.

He, on the other hand, sensed that his nightmare was far from over.

“You can keep it, I just want her,” he assured. The object of dispute between Moff Gideon and Bo-Katan had never sparked any interest in him. You were his only priority and his original quest had been long forgotten by then.

The Moff stood in silence, seemingly analyzing the proposal.

“Very well, I already got what I wanted from her.” he addressed. “All I wanted was to study her blood. You see, the girl is extremely gifted. And has been a blast with rare properties that have the potential to bring order to the galaxy.”

Din anchored his attention on you. All this talking did nothing but disturb him even more. You were so close and so far. Shut up, he wanted to say.

Instead, he remained quiet.

“I see your bond with her.” Din heard it before. Did he also believe what you both had it was dangerous? He didn’t wish or care to know. “Take her. But you will leave my ship immediately and we will go separate ways.”

If Din nodded, you missed it. He took cautious steps towards you. Your heart started to race in anticipation. You could already taste a decent glass of water, the sun kissing your skin, and the end of what was once an endless agony.

You extended your hand for him to take it. He was only a meter away.

It seemed so easy.

It would’ve been so easy.

But Moff Gideon bared only greed and darkness in his soul. He surrendered to no one, let alone a Mandalorian.

“No!” your scream ripped through your throat when you saw the Dark saber hovering over Din’s head. He was quick enough to block the hit and the ones that followed after, but the Moff was insatiable and they both disappeared into the hall.

You tugged at the cuffs, trying to get them off but it was impossible. Not when they were neutralizing your power. You were too weak to run, yet you still launched yourself at the door.

Your legs instantly gave in. You let out a hard groan but didn't stop to recover from the blow. You instantly laid your body on a side and with the own weight of your arms you started dragging yourself on the floor.

You had no visuals on Gideon and Din, still, the sound of the black saber colliding against beskar outside the room brought you some sense of calm.

They were still fighting, there was still time.

You just had to crawl a little bit more.

But the hallway seemed miles away, you were tired and you'd barely reached the doorframe when all fell silent.

"D–" your voice died before finishing the sentence. The thought of calling him and not receiving an answer infested your mind like a parasite. You wouldn’t survive that memory.

A rush of adrenaline took over your body, you started moving once again. Frightened, but not hopeless —not yet.

If Din hadn’t... If Din—

You would make sure to make Gideon pay. Maybe not with your mind, maybe with your own bare hands.

But your revenge would have to wait a few more minutes because someone blocked your path before you could reach the hallway.

Your eyes fixed over the boots in your line of vision. Where those his? You should’ve paid more attention to his clothes. If you did, you wouldn’t be trembling in fear. If you did, you would’ve instantly knew it was him, instead of waiting until he kneeled and reached for you.

He whispered your name. So loving and familiar. So soft it almost went unnoticed.

Your lips pursed into a tight line, your eyes were filled to the brim with tears. You didn’t want to cry. But your heart felt heavy and all that pain you had accumulated those days had to go somewhere.

It was inevitable to break down. To weep and shake as your thoughts bounced between what could've happened and what didn't.

Din seemed to sense this when he asserted, "I'm here." He quickly took care of the cuffs. You find relief around your wrist, but the pressure didn't seem to budge on your chest. “I’m here.”

There, on the cold surface of that cell, he hugged you for all the days he couldn’t.

One arm went around your back, his other hand rested against your head, fitting you against his body. You buried your face against his chest. He drew his fingers along the curve of your neck.

The well-known gesture felt completely different. Whereas before the calming effects of it were exclusively destined to you, it seemed that now it was he who needed it the most. He needed to make sure you were there. That you were real, alive, and well.

You vocalized your thoughts once you found the strength to do so, "I thought I lost you."

Din’s arms tightened around you, solid and warm. His heart would’ve broken right there if it weren’t filled with happiness. Your voice was the same. It was home. "No. I'm too stubborn to leave you." had you had the strength to chuckle, you would have.

You slowly raised your head and, for the first time, observed past his shoulder. You immediately regretted your decision. In the hallway, Moff Gideon laid against the wall, now in shackles, looking straight into your eyes. There was a smirk plastered on his face.

Din side-glanced the floor. The handcuffs, from which he had freed you, started to shake. Your back, once hunched and languid, was now rigid under his embrace.

“No,” he muttered. He separated and took your face between his hands. “Look at me.” you ignored him and focused on the man behind him. Gideon’s brow furrowed, his cockiness slowly fading away —the air in his lungs too. "Cyar’ika.” the whisper came out as a plead. His helmet blocked your vision now, his gloved thumbs slid over your cheeks. You blinked the lashes that framed your eyes. They would’ve looked innocent on anyone else. “Don’t. He can’t hurt you no more.” his voice was gentle and reassuring. You believed him.

He wouldn't hurt you, but he could –and would– hurt Din if given the chance.

That terrified you, and it was something you couldn't forgive or forget.

Din was waiting for an answer, so you gave him one, “Alright.” Moff Gideon would just have to wait.

You both stared at each other for a moment. You hoped your answer was convincing enough to buy Din's calm. It did, cause he dropped the subject and moved into another, seconds later, “Can you walk?” he asked.

You placed your palm on the floor and held Din's with your other hand. Your legs responded –slowly but steady, you got on your feet.

The Mandalorian held you by the waist, watching with caution until he was sure you could stand by yourself, "We have to go to the bridge" he announced. His voice was low enough to maintain what he was saying between you. “Moff Gideon will go to the front, I’ll stay behind, you can follow me.” you couldn’t tell if it was a proposition or an order.

“It’s ok. You said it yourself, he can’t hurt me.” Din tittered and shook his head.

“It’s not you who I’m worried about”.

(,,,)

You’d felt at ease once you met the familiar faces that had come to your rescue. Cara didn’t hesitate to hug you when she saw you, while Fennec limited herself to a comradely nod from afar.

Koska and Bo-Katan had been a completely different story. They didn’t take it lightly when they saw Din in possession of the Darksaber. You glanced at Moff Gideon, his victorious grin made much sense then —he knew of the traditions and what gave power to the saber. He also appreciated how Bo-Katan was as obsessed as him with it —purposely sinking his finger in her wounded pride.

Although Din had yielded, his peace offering was unwelcomed, as well as his intentions to give her the saber. The last thing you needed was internal conflicts, but you were willing to fight anyone if you had to protect the person you'd care about the most.

The rising tension was —luckily or not— shut down by the alarms going off and then Fennec reporting a breach in the ray shields of the ship.

Moff Gideon, with a disgusting proudness in his voice, announced the dark troopers.

Lines formed between your eyebrows, "Dark troopers?"

Fennec took care of your confusion. "Problems." Her answer was vague, but you could deduce from it, at least, the essential: you'd have to fight against them —inhuman killing machines that doubled your size. The chances of winning were minimal, but you couldn't have gotten this far only to surrender.

You approached the screens and took a seat in front of them. The dark troopers kept coming. Din had trouble fighting with one earlier, and now you were six against too many. Five if they didn't count you. You were still weak, no powers, no Force —you were utterly useless.

Someone softly squeezed your shoulder. You looked up and your eyes met with beskar. "I'm gonna get you out of here." He could try. His words had always given you security. You assumed it was your damaged spirit that doubted them for the first time.

You fixed your eyes on the screen again, Din went to the front among the others. The dark troopers marched towards the bridge. They were getting closer and closer and all you could do was prepare yourself and wait.

"Seal the blast doors!" Fennec commanded Koska.

You looked at the cameras.

They were there.

The two dark troopers in the front started pounding on the door. The material they were made of was resistant, but not indestructible. It was only a matter of minutes before they could get through it.

"You have an impressive fireteam protecting you," Moff Gideon spoke. His voice exuberated confidence. He appreciated his upper hand in the situation and wasn't shy about it. "But I think we all know after a valuable stand, everyone in this room will be dead, but me and the girl."

Din didn't turn to look at you. Gideon's statement probably sent him the same eerie sensation as it did to you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The thought of him speaking so lightly of your friends' death almost made you puke.

If only you could've hurt him. You had the will, but not the power.

The alarm went off a second time. All of you looked at your right, throughout the windows: A ship flew past the cruiser. Closer monitoring allowed you to identify it as a lone X-wing fighter. Just one. Cara whispered something about being saved, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Incoming craft, identify yourself." Bo-Katan solicited. Radio silence.

The dark troopers outside stopped pounding at the door. You looked at the cameras outside the bridge. They made a half-way turn on their place and armed themselves.

Everyone was too baffled to be relieved about it. Everyone but you.

Your eyes were glued to the screen. The hooded figure that disembarked was just a visual confirmation of what you had sensed as soon as the craft had landed in the docking bay.

There was no more such thing as uneasiness. The air felt lighter —in it, an invisible string pulling you towards the unknown subject.

No. Not unknown. You knew what and who it was —long before he'd displayed his lightsaber. You knew why he was here, as well as his intentions. You just didn't want to acknowledge the consequences of his presence —and what it meant for you.

You turned around and searched for the Mandalorian, only to find Moff Gideon on his feet and pointing a blaster at Bo Katan.

He fired at her, four or five times, you didn't exactly count —it was enough to knock her out of the way.

There was nothing between you and him now. Whereas he'd expressed before the possibilities of keeping you alive for further studies about the Force, it wasn't a viable option anymore. He would rather kill you than let the Jedi get his hands on you.

You had no way to defend yourself. So you looked at him in the eyes and held your breath, resigned, once again, to a destiny written by foreign hands.

You waited for the shots but they never came. Instead, the air was knocked out of your chest as you were thrown to the floor by someone. You winced at the harsh contact. At least you didn't have a hole in your body. You had closed your eyes by instinct, blinking felt such a waste of energy by then.

You focused on Din's helmet while he frantically inspected your body for any wounds.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

No, you were not. You were numb, expressionless, stunned, motionless. You felt your throat closing up. To speak would mean abandoning the shelter of your conscious, where you still believed to have more time with him.

But you didn’t, and Din needed to be aware of this.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you whispered, “It’s time.”

His posture stiffened above you. Though it was never a serious conversation, he’d recalled both of you touching the subject very on the surface. Always in a light, joking manner. “Oh, what will you do when I’m gone?” you’d ask. Din would follow with a snicker and tease you for the sake of your dynamic. “Get a good night of rest.” Truth be told, you could’ve never fathom to properly rest far from each other.

You wished, or rather begged with your eyes, for him to say something, anything —but he chose silence. Was his nightmare the same as yours? Or had he come to accept, long before you did, your true path?

He took you gently by the hands and helped you get up. He guided you to the front, slow and steady.

“Open the door,” the bridge was noiseless. No answer whatsoever to his request. Din insisted, “I said, open the door.”

Fennec raised an eyebrow, aiming at the entrance. “Are you crazy?” all the dark troopers were destroyed, but you couldn’t blame the group for their wariness. It had been a long day, a long journey, too many enemies in your path to trust so easily the person waiting on the other side.

You walked past by Gideon, who laid unconscious on the floor. His attempt to kill you felt so far away in time. Now, you faced something worse and more dreadful than death itself.

Din ignored the verbal protests and pressed the button himself. The blast doors opened. The green glow of the lightsaber was visible before his body. Everyone waited as he entered the bridge. The sick, anxious feeling in your gut only increased when he withdrew his lightsaber. The memories of your time on the seeing stone came back altogether. You recalled his face, he was in your dream, he was the one who had reached out and —oh, you wished you could retract your cry for help.

“Are you a Jedi?” Din found the courage to ask.

Yes, he is. You knew his identity before he could tell you so. Luke Skywalker.

“I am,” he confirmed and then looked at you. He reached out a hand, you squeezed Din’s. “Come, please.” you trusted this stranger as if you had known him all your life. The Jedi wasn’t the problem, it was the man standing next to you.

“She doesn’t want to go with you.” Din’s authoritative tone and firm stand made it clear that he shared the same wishes as you.

But Luke knew better than to give in to the whims of your hearts. If only they were reason enough to rebel against him, “She is strong with the Force. But talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect her, but she will not be safe until she masters her abilities.”

Your fingers lingered over Din’s as you broke the grip on his hand and took a step forward. For a moment, you considered the option of leaving everything behind without looking back. To spare the pain of goodbye seemed the happiest ending you could get.

Then you remembered how uncertain and unpleasant the future could be. Very few souls in the galaxy could survive regret, an ‘I should’ve’ was more gut-wrenching than any blast to your chest.

So you turned around and face him one more time. You offered a tremulous smile, drops wet the corner of your lips.

He, as always, tried to offer some peace of mind you couldn’t find by yourself. “I’ll see you again. I promise.” you hated the bleakness that tainted his voice. Still, you found yourself wordless, nodding at his words.

You extended your hand, the tip of your fingers brushed his helmet. It was cold, lifeless, so much different from what was inside of it and who you had learned to know. Din’s hand went up and reached for yours, for a moment you thought he’d push it away. Instead, he put it on the helmet and slowly removed it.

What in the past was deemed unlikely, was now a solid dream.

You lingered on the coffee eyes that studied yours, on the small crease between them above the line of his bold nose. His hair —you wanted to jump in his arms and run your fingers through that hair. Your eyes wandered over his mouth, following its curve and pout, as if he was just about to speak. You wanted to crush your mouth against his lips.

So you did.

Time stopped in a collision of senses when your lips met his. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees got weaker. You could only focus on how soft he felt against your mouth, in how addictively he invaded your senses.

There was raw emotion in the way his fingers closed behind your neck, in how he squeezed you against his body. With your eyes closed, you weren’t sure if your mind had tricked you into a perfect present.

But then you opened them again and he was there. Closer than ever.

“We will meet again.” your voice quavered in a whisper. You threw your head back just to take a full picture of his handsome face. Tears fell over his cheeks, you brushed them away with your thumbs. “Someday, somewhere, we’ll get to be together.” you lowered a hand and placed it on his chest. “Until then, keep me here, ok?”

This time, Din draped both of his arms around your frame and met your lips halfway. It was short, intense, and everything that needed to be said was said with it, “I’ll wait for you as long as I have to, ner runi”.

You stole him one last kiss before you let him go.

There was nothing said between you and Luke as you left the bridge side by side. More tears cascaded through your face the further you walked away. You knew this was the way it should be, but never would it hurt so bad. The Mandalorian was supposed to be only an eventuality and ended up being half of your heart.

You reached the elevator and turned around. It took a massive amount of bravery to look at a loved one in the eyes as you parted ways, so you gathered every cell full of courage in your body and looked at Din.

You were still crying, so was he. But you had made peace with the past, the present, and the future — both of you knew, one way or another, you were destined to each other, whatever the odds you’d have to face.

The elevator doors were closing. Your smile grew wider and wider as you realized, not too late, just in time, “I love you, Din Djarin.” he didn’t have to say it back for you to know he felt it too.

You had promised to find him as soon as you could and you intended to keep your word.

#the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin one shot #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars imagine #the mandalorian imagine #my work

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eldragon-x · 3 years

Text

Long ass post about Mettaton and his unused potential because he lives in my head rent free

The most obvious part of Mettaton’s character is being an overly-confident TV star and entertainer who acts sort of as a comic relief aside from an antagonist, but there’s a lot more to it when you dig a little deeper.

Before Mettaton was confident or close to being a star, he seemed to care a lot about Napstablook. So much in fact, that he stated he’d never leave them behind. But he made this statement under the assumption that he’d never find a body that he could feel like himself in, preventing him from following his dreams of becoming a star. Once the chance was actually there, he went for it and left Napstablook without a goodbye whatsoever, as far as we know.

Alphys, who was the one offering this chance, made friends with him shortly before. They got along immediately and Mettaton showed to be very grateful for what Alphys has done for him. But once he was successful in his career, he kept distancing himself from her more and more and pretty much mocks her during their staged Hotland scenes.

Mettaton grew distant from the two people closest to him because he was so focused on his goals that he neglected his relationships with them and his self-centered attitude caused by his growing success as a star even makes it look like he looks down on Alphys.

But despite all this, he never stopped caring about either of them. He shows a very emotional response when Napstablook calls in on his show and wanted to talk to them more before they hung up, and starts a band with them by the end of the game. He gave Alphys a poster of his, writing a thank you on it for making his dreams come true. He appears to be concerned for Alphys in the Winter Clock dialouge when Undyne scares her. One of his main objectives in a no mercy run is to keep Alphys safe. Even tho he acts mean-spirited towards her, the King Mtt ending shows that he actually holds quite some respect for her. Not only does he recognize how badly he acted towards her and intends to apologize, he also wants to ask her to help him rule and put up a statue for her.

Mettaton has a lot of personal conflict going on, which is a huge but overlooked aspect of his character. He cares about his loved ones, but his relationships became troubled because his life changed drastically and he was suddenly in a position where he could be confident in himself and so many monsters idolized him. A character like this fits well into a game like Undertale that is all about emotional connections and what influences one’s treatment of other people has.

With all this potential, I think Mettaton should’ve gotten a proper arc where he learns to maintain his personal relationships and not neglect his loved ones through stardom, and be included in the lost soul battle and the ending scene with all the other main characters instead of just getting these bits of hints that he made amends with Alphys and Blooky.

I’ve seen the argument that there was no time or place for Mtt to get this because his battle was close to the finale, but Undyne’s phone call is triggered if you backtrack after that battle, which leads you to Alphys’ development arc.

And Mtt is so close to being a main character too? He has a brief appearance in the scene where the main cast steps in to stop Frisk and Asgore from fighting and Mettaton has his own bit in the credits. It’s actually just weird that he doesn’t get to be a main character and him getting a development arc would’ve fixed this and made it possible to include him with the lost souls.

#ut #mtt tag #undertale #mettaton

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qitwrites · 3 years

Text

traditions

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Itadori Yuuji/Fushiguro Megumi

A/N: I caught up with the manga, and shit’s pretty fucked, so I decided to amend that with fluff.

[AO3 Link]

Fushiguro - according to Kugisaki - is the textbook definition of a homosexual disaster.

No see, here’s the thing- everything was going fine. Great. No problems at all. Fushiguro respects his seniors, tolerates Gojo, and has the biggest soft spot for Inumaki, but he’s never been attracted to any one in his usual circle. So, school and sorcery and life in general was simple. No distractions, no crushes as such, no complications. All good.

And then Itadori Yuuji barges into his life and upends the fuck out of it by eating a special grade cursed object to save him. Then he joins Jujutsu Tech, and now they work and train and study and live alongside one another.

The thing is, Itadori is cute as fuck. 10/10 would tap that, any day of any week.

It’s not that Fushiguro has a type or anything, but Itadori just ticks all his boxes. When Todo had bullheadedly asked him what kind of person he likes, he’d said anyone with a strong moral compass that doesn’t waver in their resolve.

That’s Itadori in a nutshell.

Also, doesn’t hurt that he’s like, stupidly hot either. His raw physical prowess is reflected on his body in the form of shapely muscles, hard abs, and wide forearms that look like they could pick Fushiguro up and just throw him like a javelin. They actually can- Itadori had to do it for a mission this one time. Fushiguro enjoyed it immensely, and he will take this information with him to his grave.

So, not only is Itadori attractive and strong and of good character, but he’s also hella friendly. Fushiguro knows he’s not the easiest person to befriend- it takes a while for him to warm up to people, to share things about himself, to talk about the shitshow that is his family, but Itadori does not seem to give a single, flying fuck. He walks into Fushiguro’s life with the strength and ease of someone that just believes they belong. And Fushiguro lets him, because he is, as Kugisaki very accurately put it, a complete and utter homosexual disaster.

But it’s fine. Crushes happen all the time, and Fushiguro knows it’s hopeless and that’s ok. He knows Itadori likes him and cherishes their friendship, and that is enough. It will be. He’ll move on, and they’ll laugh about it in a few years (if they survive) and it’ll be great. In the meantime, he’s going to hole up in his room and read non-fiction books and stay away from pink hair and large toothy smiles.

Of course, the first person to fuck up his plans is Itadori.

It’s Saturday night, and dinner had been a simple meal of rice, miso soup and some sides made by Itadori. He’s a really good cook, and the home food is such a welcome change from the bento boxes Fushiguro normally picks up from the convenience store. Sometimes, Itadori will drag Fushiguro into the kitchen to teach him a thing or two, and Fushiguro learns, and pines, and smacks Itadori when he says something especially idiotic. It’s routine. It’s nice.

Dinner was an hour ago, and now he’s just curled up in bed with his book. It’s shaping up to be a typical weekend, which is nice considering the number of missions they picked up last week. His bones are aching a little, his feet are slightly sore, and he knows he’s going to sleep like the dead tonight.

He hears the knock even though it’s a bit soft. Fushiguro sits up and cocks his head. Was he imagining it?

And then there’s another knock, more confident. Thud thud thud.

Fushiguro climbs out of bed, setting his book aside carefully. He stretches his hands over his head and walks over to the door. ‘Coming.’

He swings it open, and he sees pink hair and his heart just sort of beats out of his chest.

‘Hiya.’ Itadori’s smile is wide, trusting, and full of gusto. He holds a packet of chips in one hand and a laptop in the other.

‘What’s up?’

‘Are you busy?’

He should say he is. If he says he’s busy, then he doesn’t have to let Itadori in and he can continue with Operation: get over Itadori Yuuji. It’s the most logical move.

‘No, why do you ask?’ Well, apparently his brain has detached from his mouth.

‘Well, I overheard you telling Kugisaki that you’ve never seen the Saw movies and I realized something. Something terrible.’

Fushiguro tenses. ‘And what’s that?’

‘I can’t be best friends with someone that’s never seen Saw.’ Itadori pouts cutely, and Fushiguro is this close to just walking off the face of the Earth. He leans into the door frame, needing the additional support.

‘And I don’t want anyone else to be my best friend. So, the only solution is to make you watch Saw! With me! Like, right now.’

Fushiguro feels so much all at once- he wants to pull Itadori into a hug, he wants to jump off his balcony, he wants to slam the door shut and just cry, and he wants to watch stupid movies with this stupid man.

‘If you get crumbs on my bed, I’m going to kick you in the stomach.’

Itadori beams, and Fushiguro is a lost cause.

There’s a bit of adjusting (Fushiguro, your pillows are too hard, let me go grab mine) and a bit of remodelling (What do you mean we can’t make a blanket fort, that’s literally half the movie experience) and after relenting to a weird half-assed tent structure, the two of them huddle on the bed, backs against the wall, laptop placed on a chair by their feet with a bag of chips between them.

Saw is a terrible movie.

There’s gore and screaming and a creepy dude running around and it’s honestly just horrendous. The main character calls himself Jigsaw, and Fushiguro is tempted to flip the laptop after the hundredth blood spill. He looks over at Itadori who’s completely engrossed, eyes reflecting the colours and flashes of light on the screen. It’s cute, the concentration he’s pouring into it. His hand is stuck in the bag of chips and Fushiguro smacks it away to grab a few of his own.

Fushiguro does his best to watch and gets into it at least a little. It’s bad, but it’s not the worst way to spend a weekend night. He admits that a huge reason why the experience is kinda fun is that he’s doing something with Itadori that isn't life-threatening, which is a refreshing change.

The end credits start rolling and Itadori stretches his arms, fingers pushing through the droopy tent roof.

‘What did you think?’

‘I’ve seen worse.’

Itadori laughs. ‘I know what you mean. It grows on you though.’

‘There’s more?’

Itadori looks at him, blinks, cocks his head. ‘You didn’t know?’

Fushiguro shrugs. ‘I’ve never been a movie buff, so I have no information on this.’

‘Fushiguro.’

‘What?’

‘There’s 9 movies.’

Fushiguro’s mouth drops. ‘What?’

‘Yup, there’s nine in total, and the tenth one is in the making.’

‘Holy shit, that’s a lot of movies in one franchise.’

‘Yup. And we’re watching all of them.’

Fushiguro’s eyes widen. ‘What? No way. Nope. Not a chance. I can’t handle more of this, it was barely tolerable.’

‘It doesn’t matter! It’s the principle of the thing- you’ve started the series so you might as well see it through.’

‘9 movies? How can they possibly have enough content for that?’

‘It’s what they do. I promise it gets better and worse.’

Fushiguro sighs. ‘I’m not getting out of this, am I?’

Itadori pushes into his shoulder playfully. ‘Nope. I’m getting more snacks next time, let’s do two movies.’

Fushiguro sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

He’s really struggling to pretend like he’s upset with this development. He’s not upset. He’s honestly anything but.

---

Itadori comes back next Saturday with some blankets and a pillow tucked under one arm and a laptop in the other. He has a grocery bag with chips and sour patch kids hanging between his teeth and he still manages to smile. Fushiguro is so done.

‘Are you a dog?’ he grumbles, plucking the bag out of his face and setting it by the bed. Itadori gets to work immediately, setting up the pillows and his sad excuse for a blanket fort while Fushiguro brings a bowl for the chips and candy. Once they’ve settled in, Itadori starts the second movie and Fushiguro resigns himself to his fate.

It’s really not that bad.

The movie is whatever, Fushiguro tunes in and out, alternating between watching the screen and sneaking looks at Itadori. He’s as engrossed as ever, and the tip of his tongue is sticking out in concentration and it’s so cute it makes Fushiguro want to curl up in his lap and squish him.

He’s crushing hard. Like, really hard. It’s about the gayest thing he’s ever experienced.

The movie pushes on, and they start to get more comfortable. Itadori isn’t a talker, which is surprising and nice, but when the movie lulls, he does make a joke or two. They sink lower into the bed, and by the end of the movie, they’re firmly pressed into each other from shoulder to thigh, with the bowl of chips on Fushiguro’s lap and the candy in Itadori’s.

Itadori is really warm. Could be his natural body heat, could be the king of curses residing within him, could be Fushiguro’s imagination- who’s to say at this point?

When the credits roll, Itadori stretches again like a cat in the sun, groaning his satisfaction. Fushiguro rubs his temples and wills away his blush.

‘What did you think?’

‘Not terrible, but honestly, what the fuck?’

‘That pretty much sums up the franchise.’

Itadori loads up the next movie while Fushiguro stays in position, comfortable. When he’s done, he leans back and makes himself comfortable against Fushiguro’s side, head leaning against his shoulder, his cheek pressed against bone. He looks smooshed, and it’s ridiculous.

If he gave a single shit about the movie, he’d ask him to move because he’s so far gone now there’s no way he’d pay attention at all.

Fushiguro doesn’t say a word, just sends up a silent prayer that Itadori remains there, pushed into him and all up in his space, for the rest of the evening.

That’s exactly what he does.

---

Fushiguro’s feet are burning.

The soles are achy all over, tender and jolty. Any time he walks, he suppresses a hiss of pain. When he’d taken a look, the entire sole was an angry red, and he’s just so annoyed.

The week had been tough- tons of running around and multiple search and rescue missions and this one tenacious curse that he and Itadori had to chase for several miles before finally exorcising it. By the end of it all, his feet were burning like a low fire in the pits of hell.

Itadori is fine, as always. It’s probably an incredible combination of his own inherent athleticism and lord dipshit within him, but Itadori heals at an accelerated pace, and like, he came back from the dead. Sore feet would be nothing to this guy.

When Itadori knocks on the door as always, an hour after Saturday night dinner, Fushiguro just calls out, ‘Come in.’ He really doesn’t want to walk to the door, so he’d left it open intentionally.

Itadori struggles to open the door on his own, arms filled with so much stuff it’s overflowing everywhere, and that horribly lovely smile is still stretched across his face and Fushiguro is just so smitten it’s ridiculous.

Itadori throws a few pillows in his direction, places a frankly ridiculous amount of snacks at the foot of the bed, and starts building his fort. Fushiguro is yet to help him with this, to actually put in any effort and make it with him rather than just watch him with a bemused smirk, but part of him knows that if he joins in, he’s admitting to something. He’s admitting that he’s invested. That he likes this as much as Itadori, probably so much more. That he likes Itadori so much, it’s all-consuming.

Itadori gives him the laptop while he makes some finishing touches on the fort, and he’s gotten better over the last few weeks. The tent is less saggy, with more room to move around and its range is expanding. It no longer covers just the bed, it extends to his desk and is inching towards his closet. Itadori is taking over his room, his heart, his brain, his life. He keeps taking and taking and taking, and Fushiguro just gives him more, happily, heartbreakingly, with all the love and nonchalance and patience he can muster.

He’s so whipped he’s giving Kugisaki a headache. She’s told him as much, repeatedly.

He’s got the final Saw movie prepped and ready to go, positioning the laptop on the chair as usual. Itadori grabs the bowls and decants their snacks before sitting next to Fushiguro, his head automatically resting on the man’s shoulders. Fushiguro rests his head on Itadori’s soft pink hair, breathing in the scent of the shampoo Itadori always steals from Kugisaki, and muffles a laugh. It’s so silly.

They’re about mid-way through the movie (by movie 9 there’s no milking the plot, it’s them just beating a dead horse ruthlessly) when Fushiguro shifts his legs and his feet bump into the chair, and he bites out a yelp of pain. Itadori sits up immediately, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

‘You ok?’

Fushiguro waves him down, wincing. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.’

‘Did you stub your toe? That’s one of the worst feelings ever. And I’ve had my heart ripped out of my chest. And lost an arm. And I’ve been stabbed repeatedly. Amongst other things.’

‘I didn’t stub my toe. And also, what the fuck, are you ok?’

‘I’m fine,’ Itadori laughs easily. ‘Seriously, what’s wrong?’

‘My feet hurt,’ Fushiguro admits with a defeated sigh. ‘We’ve been moving about a lot, and after that pineapple fucker two days ago, my feet have just gotten really sore. I soaked them in hot water a few hours ago, I think I should be fine by Monday.’

Itadori eyes him suspiciously.

‘I’m not lying dumbass. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. Let’s just get this horrible movie over with.’

Itadori hums, turning back to the screen. A minute later, he looks over at Fushiguro.

‘Well, I’m going to apologize for this in advance.’

‘Apologize for wh- HEY!’

Itadori, with his stupidly inhumane strength, yanks Fushiguro’s legs off the edge of the bed and right into his lap. Fushiguro is now laying down with his head resting against the headboard, and he’s about to kick out when Itadori just digs his thumbs into the arch of his feet and Fushiguro narrowly stops himself from moaning obscenely.

He has died and ascended. His soul is no longer in this realm of existence. It has found peace. The meaning of life. Attained nirvana. He can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s seriously that good.

Because Itadori is strong. He’s really strong, so his movements are sure and deep. His thumbs are pushing against the arch, into the heel of his foot, pushing into that junction where his toes meld into the sole, and it’s so damn good. Fushiguro squirms.

‘How are you- ah shit, right there -how are you so good at this?’

Itadori throws him an easy smile. ‘Used to massage grandpa’s feet all the time. Became an expert over time, especially because I had a lot of his nurses guiding me as well. Is it ok?’

Fushiguro tries to throw him a deadpan look but then Itadori’s thumbs just push into a particularly sore spot and Fushiguro’s eyes roll back into his skull. When he’s able to pull himself together, he looks at the pink-haired man, feeling breathless.

‘It feels great. If you tell a single soul, I will drop kick you.’

Itadori’s laugh is loud and boisterous, and it fills the room completely, saturates it with this feeling of ease and honesty.

‘This stays here, no worries. Like a Las Vegas thing.’

Fushiguro smiles at the stupid reference.

After a few minutes pass by, Fushiguro reluctantly starts pulling his feet away. ‘You’ve done more than enough,’ he starts to say. Itadori wraps his fingers around his ankles, holding him in place.

‘I can honestly do this for hours, it’s fine. You can see the screen, right?’ Fushiguro nods immediately. ‘So, let’s just keep watching. I’ll stop if I’m tired, ok?’

Fushiguro relents without a fight because it’s the most relief he’d gotten in ages, and Itadori is touching him and he’s weak in every possible way and he lets himself be. Just this once.

They finish the movie (thank goodness it’s over) and Itadori continues to massage his feet as they discuss what the 10th movie could possibly be like. They discuss theories and plot holes, and Itadori doesn’t let go, his hands inching up and massaging his calves as well, and fuck if Fushiguro’s going to stop him because it feels good. He’s gay and Itadori is hot and his fingers are actual magic- like, they put sorcery to shame.

When it’s well past midnight and Itadori yawns a few times, Fushiguro finally sits up, pulling his feet out of Itadori’s grasp. The pink-haired man lets his hands linger for as long as possible, and Fushiguro decides he’s just imagining it. Surely.

‘I kinda, I mean, I want to repay you for that. You massaged me for hours, you know.’

Itadori pretends to think for a second before breaking into a bright, 100-megawatt smile.

‘Well then, let’s watch more movies! Let’s just make this movie night! We can watch stuff you look up as well, we can watch anything.’

Fushiguro stares at him, stunned. He hadn’t been expecting that and truth be told, he was really sad the Saw franchise was over because he assumed that would be the end of this, and he was too shy to ask what Itadori was so easily asking him. To see Itadori so excited at the prospect of an actual movie night, with no end in sight, made his heart leap and throb and squeeze. It was incredible.

‘Deal.’ He keeps his voice level and his face neutral, but he can’t hide his eyes and Itadori reads him in a second and his smile softens. He knows him so well now, like the back of his hand.

Itadori bids him a soft goodnight, collecting his stuff and shuffling back to his room slowly. Fushiguro falls asleep quickly, and it's deep and dreamless.

He wakes up to painless feet. It’s a miracle in every single way.

---

When Itadori gently pulls his feet into his lap the next weekend, Fushiguro doesn’t bother protesting it. He just gives him a slightly exasperated sigh, a soft smile and hits play.

They’ve decided to pick up the How to train your dragon franchise this time, as a welcome change of pace.

‘What’s it about?’

‘Well, it’s honestly all in the title. It’s about dragons and Vikings and it’s funny and it has great music!’ Itadori lights up while talking about it, and his energy is so damn contagious. Fushiguro feels himself getting hyped. ‘I think you’ll like it. Especially since you have those cool Shikigamis, you might relate to this more!’

Fushiguro hums, and they watch. Fushiguro routinely pushes pieces of chips and sour candy into Itadori’s mouth, and Itadori’s fingers become well-acquainted with the planes and bumps and grooves of his feet, and the shape of his calves.

Fushiguro gets really into the movie.

Not only is the animation top-notch, but the voice actors are great, the storyline is gripping, and Toothless is so childish and sweet and endearing, his heart aches with love. He barely pays attention to Itadori this time. He seems just as invested, even if it’s the hundredth time he’s rewatching it.

To Fushiguro’s surprise, he chokes up at the end, after the big battle. The whole scene feels strangely familiar in some ways, and he tries desperately to hide his growing discomfort. He peaks over at Itadori and his eyes widen.

Itadori is swallowing hard, his eyes shining and glistening with unshed tears. His grip on Fushiguro is tight as hell, but not painful. He’s barely holding on, it seems.

So Fushiguro looks away, and lets himself feel. He doesn’t cry, but it’s damn near the same feeling.

Itadori’s knowing smirk is as annoying as it is stupidly kissable.

‘You seemed to enjoy that!’

‘It was decent. Much better than all the Saw movies combined.’

Itadori barks out a laugh. ‘Decent, he says. I saw you nearly crying through my own tears. And you were glued to the screen. Such a liar.’

Fushiguro relents. ‘Fine, it was really good. I’m hooked, and I cant wait to see the other 2 movies.’

‘You know I’ll be here.’

Fushiguro is helpless against his blush. He barely hides it in the crook of his elbow. Itadori’s fingers are still pressing into his feet and it’s all so much but not enough. His heart still aches.

‘And the next two movies are visual masterpieces. Can’t wait to get into it all!’

Fushiguro nods, and with the promise of next week, he sleeps just a little easier.

---

When Itadori pulls his feet into his lap three weeks in a row, Fushiguro decides it’s time he does more to repay the pink-haired man. It’s definitely not enough to just grace Itadori with his presence and with a weekly movie night.

So, when they come together to watch the third and final How to train your dragon movie, Fushiguro stands in his room, chewing his lower lip anxiously. He feels like he may have gone overboard, and he’s more scared of being found out by Itadori, about his feelings and his hopelessly ginormous crush and just how big of a complete and utter disaster he is than anything else.

Before he can take it down though, Itadori walks in after a quick knock and a shout of Pardon the intrusion but not reaaallllyyyy.

He walks in, snack bag in his mouth, arms holding way too much stuff, and gives Fushiguro a grin before turning to the bed to start his usual set-up routine. That’s when he stops dead on his feet, and Fushiguro at least enjoys the look of complete and utter shock on his face. The snack bag drops to the ground before Fushiguro can catch it with a loud thunk.

So, here’s a fun fact about Fushiguro- he can build insane blanket forts. No, really, you don’t understand, he could be mistaken for an architect because that’s how good he is. And the reason is a bit long and a bit complicated, but it mostly has to do with his sister. When they were left all alone in the world, sharing a small space just between the two of them, they would build blanket forts with all the stuff lying around the house, and within those sheets, they were shielded from the world and all its horrors. They did it for a long time, and it was their tradition. They got better at it over the years, learning what sheets worked best, what make-shift supports held things up at the right height, where to place the pillows.

The minute Fushiguro started to put the fort together, his muscle memory kicked in and took it from there. It brought forth some memories that made him choke up, but he focused on Itadori, and it helped. He adjusted the height to accommodate two growing boys instead of two tiny humans, and before he knew it, the fort had sprawled to encompass his entire room. He borrowed pillows from Inumaki and Panda, who were willing albeit slightly perplexed, and he grabbed Kugisaki’s fairy lights to really spruce things up. The weather had gotten colder, so he had also laid out his thick duvet for them to slip under, and the icing on the cake was the pizza he had ordered. Itadori always bought the snacks, so he wanted to pull his own weight. Also, they were active jujutsu sorcerers- they may have eaten dinner an hour ago, but they were always hungry. It was endless.

Itadori remains rooted in place, and Fushiguro starts to get nervous. A bit anxious. A bit scared. What if it is too much? Had he overstepped in some way? Or what if Itadori looked forward to building the fort and Fushiguro had taken that away from him?

Itadori slowly looks at him, eyes piercing and unreadable and bright.

And then he smiles. The world rights itself a little.

And he smiles big, huge, all-encompassing. Its lips stretched over white teeth and his eyes are crinkling in that really lovely way and the dimples are dotting his cheeks and its utter magic.

‘Fushi,’ Itadori gushes, almost breathless. ‘This is insane. How the hell did you do this?’

Fushiguro bites his lip. ‘You like it?’

‘Like? Fushi, dude, my man, my guy, like doesn’t begin to cover it! I don’t have better words cause I’m kind of an idiot, but it’s. Like. A+. 11/10. I’m so impressed right now.’

And now Fushiguro is smiling with him, stomach flopping around endlessly, and he’s young and in love and he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

‘I also got pizza,’ Fushiguro gestures to the table behind him, picking the snack bag off the floor and placing it by the bed. ‘I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just got the same thing you ordered when I was sick.’

Itadori happily bounds over to the box and leans in for a sniff.

‘I love this stuff, it’s yum. And it’s still steaming, all fresh and hot.’ Itadori gives him a big thumbs-up. ‘This is so bomb Fushi, thank you so much!’

Fushiguro almost says No thank you, you’ve been doing so much for our movie nights and I wanted to show you how grateful I am for you and for all of this and I love you so please take my heart and just keep it, I really don’t need it, you know?

What he says instead is, ‘Not a problem. Shall we set up?’

And so, 10 minutes later finds them curled up in their usual spots, except this time they’re under the covers. Fushiguro places all the food between them, and Itadori alternates between massaging his feet (which he cleans meticulously before their movie nights because he doesn’t want Itadori to eat with dirty feet hands) and taking bites of pizza and smiling and laughing and choking up at the movie.

The trilogy ends and Fushiguro can honestly see why Itadori has watched this countless times. It’s just that good.

If Itadori hears him sniffle, he doesn’t say a word. Just squeezes his calf and runs his fingers from his knees to his ankles and Fushiguro realizes, in that moment, that a part of him will always belong to this man.

---

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. They’ve now finished the Saw franchise, the HTTYD trilogy, the Batman trilogy, and the entire Annabelle series. If Fushiguro didn’t hate dolls before, well, now the thought of them sends shivers up his spine. And he fights curses. For a living.

Life is weird.

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. Sometimes it’s Sunday night instead, or Friday. Sometimes it’s earlier in the day, in the afternoon maybe. Sometimes, it’s really late at night, so late that by the time they’re done, it’s already 3am and the world is silent. The world doesn’t exist beyond the walls of Fushiguro’s room, and he’s ok with that.

On those nights, Itadori stays over.

They curl up on his bed together, not quite touching but not quite not touching. It’s a single bed and they’re not small by any means. The touching is inevitable. Fushiguro wonders if any part of it is voluntary.

He learns that Itadori’s toes are always warm, unlike Fushiguro’s. He’s a surprisingly calm sleeper. His sleep-heavy voice is deep, and his sleep-heavy smile is soft.

They fall asleep facing away from one another, they wake up spooning or being spooned. They don’t say a word. And they don’t stop.

The night that they finish the latest Annabelle movie, Itadori looks insanely freaked out and Fushiguro doesn’t blame him. That shit’s creepy as hell.

The problem is that it’s only 00:14. Too early for them to call for a sleepover unprompted.

Itadori’s got Fushiguro’s legs in his lap, and he’s pursing his lips as if deep in thought. Fushiguro thinks fuck it.

‘Do you want to stay over?’

The relief flows off Itadori in waves. ‘You’re an actual lifesaver, you know that right?’

Fushiguro smirks, and they throw snarky comments back and forth between them as they get ready for bed. Itadori brings his toothbrush and they clean up side by side, fighting for the mirror. They take the fort down methodically, like a well-oiled machine, and they curl up under the duvet, touching but not quite touching, facing away from one another.

15 minutes later, Fushiguro feels Itadori curled around him, legs tangled and arm carefully slipped over his middle. He feels him shake, and he can taste the hesitation and he knows Itadori will move away soon because they both know they’re both awake.

He moves his hand lower and places it over Itadori’s. He squeezes it once, and moves it away, and evens out his breathing. He feels himself drifting off, and the last thing he feels is Itadori’s arm curling around him just a little tighter, holding him just a little closer. The air tastes less hesitant, more hopeful.

It’s wonderfully frightening.

---

They don’t miss a single movie night for months. Until one day, they do.

The thing about Sukuna is that he’s the King of Curses, Lord Asshat extraordinaire, and an overall terrible being. Not only does he reside in Itadori rent-free, he also chooses when to heal him and when to watch from the sidelines as blood gushes out of wounds that are near-fatal. Itadori’s pain tolerance is impossibly high, but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel pain.

Itadori feels everything. He feels so much, so willingly, so wholeheartedly. He’s a feeler.

And so, when one of their missions go haywire (as always), Itadori risks his life for his classmates (as always), and is left on the verge of death (as always). The only difference being he doesn’t improve. At least not at that inhumane pace that he always does.

He’s not dead, but he’s not in the world of the living either. He’s drifting somewhere in between, and Fushiguro feels like he’s drowning. He can’t get enough air; he can’t see beyond the murky waters that are darker than ink.

Fushiguro is in the in-house hospital on campus and he rarely, if ever, leaves Itadori’s side. The incident took place on a Tuesday and it is now Saturday. Itadori’s vitals are stable, his heart is in his chest, beating, and his blood is circulating and oxygenating him.

He does not wake up, he does not speak, and he does not smile.

Something in Fushiguro’s chest cracks.

People come by to visit all the time. Nobara brings snacks and chats with Itadori like he’s ok, like he’ll respond. Only Fushiguro hears the tremor in her voice. Maki holds back from smacking someone in a coma, vowing to get him good when he’s awake for doing something so monumentally dumb. Gojo flits in and out as often as he can, and he always squeezes Fushiguro’s shoulder with a tightness that eases his chest just a little before leaving again.

After dinner on Saturday, Fushiguro decides to do something.

He lets himself into Itadori’s room- messy but not sloppy, and simple. He finds his laptop on his desk and charges it for a bit before taking it back with him. He doesn’t set up a blanket fort, simple loads up a Christopher Nolan movie that they’d decided on last week and lets it play.

He holds Itadori’s hand the entire time. It doesn’t squeeze back.

The crack in his chest widens.

---

He’s not there when Itadori wakes up.

Gojo had pushed him out of the room to go take a shower and grab a proper meal and maybe even take a nap, and Fushiguro had relented to two of the three- showering and eating. With a belly full of terrible convenience store food that could never hope to hold a candle to Itadori’s meals, Fushiguro slowly makes his way back to the infirmary when he hears voices. One voice, in particular, stops him in his tracks.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘My mouth tastes like ass.’

It’s one of the first things Itadori has said in a week and a half, and something between a laugh and a sob gets stuck in Fushiguro’s chest. He moves to yank the door open and throw himself at Itadori when he hears-

‘Where’s Fushi?’

‘Oh, he went to take a shower, clean up a little, all that.’

‘Ah. I see.’

Fuck, he sounds disappointed.

‘Don’t look so upset.’ Gojo teases. ‘He hasn’t left your side since you got hurt, you know?’

‘Really?’

Gojo hums. ‘He’s here all day. He tried working for a day or two, but his head wasn’t in it, so we forced him to sit out for a bit. He’s just been keeping you company here, reading, fretting, pining.’

Fushiguro wants to punch Gojo.

Itadori barks out a laugh. It sounds loud and forced and not very happy.

‘Don’t tease me about that sensei. That’s cruel, even for you.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know what I’m talking about.’

‘I want to be sure. I’m not a mind-reader you know. So tell me,’ Gojo urges, ‘what are you talking about?’

Itadori sighs. It sounds exhausted more than pained. ‘I’ve liked him since the day we fought the curse and saved my senpais. It’s cruel for you to tease me about a one-sided crush.’

Fushiguro is suddenly numb, hot and cold everywhere, and his head is spinning, an echo of ‘I’ve liked him I’ve liked him’ just bouncing around his brain endlessly. He has to force himself to concentrate or risk missing out more of the conversation.

‘I mean, why do you think it’s one-sided?’

‘Are you kidding me? He’s so out of my league, I can’t even think about it. He’s so. Just. Everything good in this world. And he likes dogs sensei, what more could I want in a person?’

Fushiguro’s vision is just swimming and he wants to smother Itadori in a hug and protect him forever. His feet are taking longer to respond to his brain though.

‘I don’t think that’s true,’ Gojo sings, laughing. ‘My advice would be to not give up. You’d be good for each other, you know? Also, he’s really not all that perfect. Trust me, I’ve known him since he was a child. This one time, during the spring festival, he-‘

‘Itadori, you’re awake?’

Evidently, his self-preservation instincts had bypassed his brain and forced his legs to move at near inhumane speed. God bless instincts.

Itadori is sitting up, and he looks a bit frail but the color in his cheeks is steadily returning. His eyes widen in surprise before his mouth twists up in a grin so wide Fushiguro is worried he’ll break his face. His eyes are molten, watery, and brighter than the sun.

‘Hi Fushi.’

For once, Fushiguro doesn’t give a two shit flying fuck that Gojo is in the room and will hence tease him for the rest of his life, he just walks over to the bed and gathers Itadori into a hug and holds him there, pressing his warmth into Itadori. There’s the beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, and the smile on his lips pressed into Fushiguro’s shoulder.

The world rights itself on its axis, just a little more.

‘Idiot.’

Itadori’s muffled laugh makes him grin, and he pulls away. He rearranges his face in a scowl.

‘I told you before if you die on me-‘

‘-you’ll kill me yourself. I know, I know. I’m here Fushi, you don’t have to become a murderer. It’s a good day.’

Fushiguro lets his face morph back into a grin before looking over at Gojo. His teacher’s smirk tells him everything- how he knew where Fushiguro was, how he’s seen right through Fushiguro, how he’s going to tease him till the day either of them die. And Fushiguro wants to be annoyed and pissed off but he can’t bring himself to care, not right now.

Itadori’s heart is beating in his chest, and he smiles at Fushiguro, and his cheeks are tinting pink.

Fushiguro’s heart is full.

---

‘Sorry I missed movie night.’

Itadori’s apology is so stupid Fushiguro nearly gwaffs, but that’s undignified as fuck so he settles for a cough and a withering stare.

‘I mean, it’s not like you were in a coma or anything.’

‘You know what I mean! But anyway, I’m here now, so let’s pick up where we left off.’

‘No, we’ll have to move on to the next movie. We watched that one last week.’

‘Huh?’

Fushiguro looks at him, prays he isn’t seven shades of red. ‘Well, I thought maybe if we had a movie night at the infirmary, you’d feel better. Where you were. Especially if you were dealing with lord fuckwad. You know?’

Itadori stares at him in awe and chuckles softly. ‘You’re something else, you know? Just when I think I’ve got you all figured out.’

Gojo’s word reverberate around his skull and Fushiguro just clears his throat. ‘Yeah, well, I’m all about surprising people. Woohoo.’

Itadori bursts out laughing, and they go back to setting up the fort, the pizza, the snacks, the lights, the laptop. It’s easy and familiar and nice. They settle into the mattress, but Fushiguro doesn’t let Itadori take his feet this time, opting to press into his side instead. Itadori barely puts up a fight.

They’re roughly 8 minutes into Interstellar when Itadori asks, ‘How did you set up the movie in the infirmary?’

Fushiguro hums, ‘I grabbed your laptop and put it on a chair to your left. I sat on the right. I sat by your bed and I…’

‘And you?’

Fushiguro should be nervous but he’s not. He’s surprised by how not nervous he is.

‘And I did this.’ He laces their hands together, eyes trained on Itadori's.

It’s like looking at a bowl of liquid amber. His eyes are light brown, bordering on gold, and they’re mesmerizing when you’re this close. He doesn’t look away from Fushiguro, his breath doesn’t stutter, he doesn’t jerk away. He squeezes Fushiguro’s hand with his right one and slowly brings up the left. He rests it on Fushiguro’s jaw, soft skin meeting calloused fingers and there’s a heat building under Fushiguro’s skin that makes him feel that same hot and cold sensation everywhere.

‘I’m going to kiss you.’

Itadori’s voice is deeper than Fushiguro’s ever heard it, low and spicy and sure. His hands are gentle and confident.

Fushiguro doesn’t nod or say Yes or blush.

He just brings his right arm up, wraps it around Itadori’s left wrist and leans in, bringing them together in what is possibly the softest touch of lips ever, in the history of the universe.

It’s not hesitant, it’s just new. And all-encompassing. And maddeningly good. And soft.

Itadori’s breath hitches and he leans his head, slotting their lips together better and Fushiguro is humming because fucking hell is this good. There’s no tongue, just pressure and nips and small licks and bites. By the end of it, Fushiguro is smiling into Itadori’s smile, and he’s kissing it and nuzzling it and he’s drowning in the best way possible.

Itadori finally pulls away, after several small kisses, and does that beaming smile that makes Fushiguro’s stomach do really terrible things.

‘I can’t believe all this happened because of Saw.’

Fushiguro’s smile shrivels away in a heartbeat and Itadori is laughing and snorting, the bastard.

‘Itadori Yuji.’

More laughter.

‘I swear on all that is good and pure, if you tell people we got together because of Saw, I will dump your ass so hard you won't be able to sit down for weeks.’

Itadori laughs some more and presses his giggles against Fushiguro’s lips and dammit he’s so weak and gay.

Itadori’s hand slips down his jaw and cups the back of his neck and he pulls him close, pressing their foreheads together.

‘We both know that’s not true.’

Damn it. He really does know Fushiguro like the back of his hand.

And so he does the only thing he can think of- he kisses him again. And again. And then some more, just because he can.

The movie remains forgotten, and frankly, they couldn’t care less.

#jujutsu kaisen #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #itafushi #itadori x fushiguro #jjk fic #fluff #so much fluff #and movie nights #pining #this is just fushiguro pining #itadori is a good friend #the goodest #jjk #hi hello i hope you all like this #and i hope everyone's doing ok and staying safe!!#much love to you all

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phantomphangphucker · 3 years

Text

Phic Phight - I Tried But Not In Time

For: @ave-aria

Lancer just wanted to help, but sometimes being ‘helpful’ just gets people killed. Especially when there are already dead, or half-dead, people involved.

Lancer considered himself a decent man, a good teacher, and an overall respectable member of society. He did his part, paid his taxes, and helped the next generations thrive. In many ways he did more for society and humanity than most did, even if he hardly got the pay or recognition he likely deserved. But he didn’t really care about those things, the children were what he cared about; their future and their happiness. It saddened him when there were some kids he couldn’t help and gutted him when there were others he merely failed to help.

Daniel wasn’t one he couldn’t help and he refused to let the boy be one he failed. Not this one. Not the boy once so filled with life and a positive bright future; even if it was a bit over-ambitious. Not the brother to the most brilliant child he’s ever meet. Not the son of the people that, while strange, helped defend this town. Not someone who could do well and thrive but wasn’t, not through any fault of their own intellect or the school structure or home life, but simply a lack of effort and drive. A bit of missing commitment.

Lancer gave him a bit of a pass -maybe he shouldn’t have- after that accident of his for the first while that school year; it was perfectly reasonable to be a bit lazy while recovering from any sort of accident, good even. But the boy merely got worse, not better. At first he suspected that his parents were going easier on him due to guilt -it was their invention that hurt him after all- and were thus slacking in the discipline department. So he had tried disciplining the boy, not only had that proven entirely ineffective but somehow also practically impossible to do. No amount of locked doors kept him in detention or his office. No amount of grabbing his arm to drag him to classes would stop him from literally slipping through his fingers. Verbal scolding didn’t even seem to do more than make him embarrassed or nervous; he’d sit and take it but nothing would change.

What really caught Lancer was spotting one of the many many times -he’s sure it’s extremely often- Dashiel had pinned Daniel to a locker by the shirt, holding him above the ground by a solid foot. Lancer was going to intervene, knowing full well Dashiel would deny anything was wrong and would act ‘all buddy buddy’ with Daniel, but he’d noticed Daniel’s hand on Dashiel’s wrist, the other hand curled into a fist. Daniel actively wanted to punch the other teen. But... he didn’t. He restrained himself. Practiced good self-control. Self-discipline perhaps. So maybe discipline wasn’t the issue.

So he took a different route. He tried very literally sitting down and watching Daniel closely, giving him one on one help with his work and... it helped! The teen did fairly well immediately! Lancer thought that this little success would be enough to restart Daniel’s drive and willingness to put in the work, the effort; since that seemed to really be all he actually needed to do.

But it wasn’t to be.

That sort of success only ever repeated itself when Lancer sat Daniel down and helped him one on one. If it wasn’t for the teen lacking all other signs he would have suspected some kind of learning disability, caused by the accident perhaps, but he was otherwise normal if a bit paranoid. And Lancer certainly wasn’t revisiting that attempting to send the teen into therapy event again, that had made things actively worse and Lancer doesn’t exactly... trust therapists these days.

Then the frequent growing tardies and skipping entirely made him think that maybe Daniel really truly didn’t care unless he was very literally forced to.

And now... now there were the C.A.T’s coming up and Lancer was out of time to help the teen. This was entirely in Daniel’s hands and maybe Jasmine’s a little as well, he doesn’t doubt she’ll help him with studying. Maybe she’ll even sit him down and make him study? Sadly though, if she hasn’t done that yet he doubts she ever really will. Unfortunate, truly unfortunate.

But then... the answer sheet went missing and Lancer could think of one, and only one, student who could seemingly slip through solid objects and move as if invisible: Daniel. And Lancer is perfectly well aware that Daniel wasn’t the most... law-abiding individual and was absolutely not above cheating, theft, or trickery. Lancer usually let that slide because Dashiel truly deserved it and he’s pretty sure that one time the teen locked him in a closet was a fluke; he thinks the teen's eyes might have been red actually...

But stealing test answers was absolutely unacceptable.

“But Mr. Lancer, you still have no proof Danny took the test answers“.

Judging by the way she cringed, Lancer’s fairly certain he’s right. Regardless, he technically doesn’t have real physical on-camera proof, “fair enough. He has up until the test to return the answers. But if he cheats, I won't just fail him. I'll destroy his future”. Lancer nods to himself, that was probably overdramatic but he was a drama kid and the cheer squad was for life. Jasmine, as expected, takes him seriously and gulps before nodding curtly while walking off likely to go find her unusual brother.

Lancer is perfectly fine letting Daniel retake the test -a makeup one with different answers of course and far enough away he has time to study, without feeling the need to commit a felony just to pass; which seemed incredibly extreme to Lancer- if Daniel simply gives him back the answer sheet. Frankenstein’s Bride! The boy could give them back halfway through the test and that would be good enough; Lancer would be far less impressed with that though. Will he be proud if Daniel gives over the answers beforehand? Yes, of course. Even Lancer knows how much harder it can be to own up to our mistakes and make things right than it is to make the mistakes in the first place. He’d still be in trouble for stealing them of course, with a punishment of lots and lots of one on one intensive study sessions.

But what Lancer hadn’t expected, upon walking back into his classroom, is for there to be a well-dress but old-fashion-looking man leaning against his desk; seemingly polishing some kind of staff. Lancer quirks an eyebrow as he speaks, “hello?”.

The man doesn’t so much as look up from the staff, turning a nob at the top with some clicking noises, “William Edward Lancer, you are a man of simple paradoxes and ironies”.

Lancer stays exactly where he is, hand on the doorknob, oddly he doesn’t feel safe. In fact, he feels like he is explicitly in danger and being actively judged for his worth. “Pardon?”.

The man still doesn’t look to him, but at least he stops tinkering with the staff, placing the base on the ground and standing straight, “you seek to educate the youth, yet cripple them with stress from excessive testing. You turn a blind eye to encourage strength of self, yet that only makes the weak meeker. You try to inspire, yet are so out of touch you discourage instead. Your goal is to make for a bright thriving future for every child you can, and yet... you’ve become a gear cog in the educational machine that is the catalyst for most of their premature deaths”.

Lancer decidedly does not like where this is going and takes a step back, only for the man to seemingly disappear into thin air and for Lancer to bump up against something or someone behind him. Spinning around and staggering backwards into the classroom at seeing that the man is now behind him and staring at him with apathetic judgmental crimson eyes. This man... was a ghost. But nothing like what Lancer’s seen before, he’s sure. Gulping, Lancer grabs the first thing he can -a stapler- and holds it up like a weapon, “what do you want”. He always impressed himself with how not terrified he can make himself sound when faced with a ghostly threat.

The ghost frowns slightly, “from you? Nothing. From Daniel? Plenty. And as much as you are a cog in the educational system, you are also a cog in Daniel’s existence; and so far, not a very good one”.

Lancer’s not sure what to make of that except... “you, ghost, whatever you want with my student, you leave him alone”, swallowing, “and I help him were I can, where’s the fault in that”; he’s not sure why he feels the need to defend himself but he does.

“Explanations? Very well. The fault is in that you push him towards that which is no longer in the universes cards for him. Adding stress and crisis unnecessarily. When all is said and done, some people would be better helped left alone. Would be better to seemingly fail in the eyes of larger mortal society”.

Lancer has to cut in, “I don’t believe that. Every student and child can be great if given help, guidance, and education”; that was the philosophy of any teacher worth their salt.

The ghost actually almost seems to chuckle and smirks faintly, “make no mistake, Daniel has every possibility to be quite great. Or more so, it is something in the potential of the future; a future that, due to your intended future actions, will not come to pass”. Lancer gets that explicitly ominous ‘I’m in danger’ feeling again and tightens his grip on the stapler while the ghost continues though sounding far more malicious, “so as such, the best option is for the problem, for you, to be eliminated”, and brandishes a very large scythe.

Now Lancer knows he is absolutely in danger; he had never imagined he’d be the specific target of any ghost or ghost attack in general. But the best option currently is to RUN! Which, with his weight, is not an option he’s all to confident in. That, and the ghost’s blocking the doors. Said ghost shakes his head in mild disappointment before swinging with the scythe, Lancer barely manages to move to side and lands on the floor with a thud while the scythe slices a desk clean in half. Lancer scrambles on the floor wide-eyed, this ghost really meant to kill him!

Doing what he always does Lancer tries to think quick and grab for anything that might help him -a stapler was doing nothing against a scythe and that’s a fact- lunging for the ghosts staff thinking that maybe the ghost would value that enough to avoid damaging it. He’s not going to claim to know why the ghost left it to the side. Glancing back, Lancer has just a slight feeling that the ghost is smiling? as he grabs the staff. Lancer realises far too late, as the staff makes a clicking noise and a portal begins to swirl open around the top, that maybe this was the ghosts plan all along.

The portal swallows him whole in an instant. The ghost hums to themselves, thins their lips, and nods slightly; disappearing from sight with the swirl of clock-hands.

---

Lancer lands in the dirt practically face first, scrambling to get up and away from the staff. Craning his head around and wincing before cracking out his back, one too many hours spent bent over a desk; the things he gives for those kids. At least the ghost is nowhere in sight but something’s not right, the wall of the alleyway he’s apparently in looks far more weathered and beaten down than the city would allow; had to keep things looking good to avoid the wrath of the rich citizens. Putting his hand to the wall and bits of it crumble off, Lancer gets the distinct feeling the entire wall would crumble to dust with one solid push. He doesn’t like this, it feels too much like he’s in the middle of a serious ghost battle; the lemon/lime stench of ectoplasm in the air doesn’t help.

He’s unsure what to do at this time, stay put and wait for the first responders to start yelling that it’s safe and to come out? or risk going out himself? Both options left him at risk of a violent ghost, like the one just previously after him.

But what he doesn’t get about that is what in the name of Shakespeare did that ghost mean?!? When Lancer threatened Jasmine with ruining Daniel’s entire future that was not meant literally! So why had that ghost seemingly acted as if it was literal? And better yet, what did that ghost seem to want with Daniel?

Yes Lancer was well aware of the Fenton family business, who wasn’t?, and that his parents very likely had plans for him to take over the business one day, but as far as Lancer knew Daniel had little to no interest in that. Maybe Daniel was more involved with ghosts than he knew? Or maybe the Fenton parents' intentions to have him inherit the business was exactly why a ghost was interested in Daniel. Sabotaging or influencing a future important hunter would be something that ghosts would consider doing, even if said future hunter had zero interest in being a hunter. Shaking his head, all this think is getting him nowhere, he needs to decide his actions now.

Swallowing, well he was a man of risks, both calculated and sudden. And it has been a bit.. Gulping Lancer lifts a foot to move to step out before pausing and glancing back to the staff, it sitting innocently on the ground. What would happen if someone else stumbled upon that? Nothing good he imagines. Nodding to himself before gathering it up gingerly and returning to taking a cautious step out of the alley way; at the very least he can use the staff as a beating implement or a spear even.

But stepping out is like exiting an empty silent movie theatre into a crowded mall, like time itself had been stopped until he made up his mind to step forward. The scene that greets him is like an active war zone, people are running around without paying attention to where they’re going, there’s screaming, something is cackling with a heavy echo in the distance, an entire building starts collapsing; Lancer doesn’t know where to look or what to do so he just... stands there, frozen in spot.

At least until he sees what brought down the building, or more so who, a crumbled body flopping and skidding across the ground surrounded by rubble. At first all he can make out is the red suit, The Red Huntress, that’s enough to get him running; running off towards the downed Huntress. but when he gets close... he sees the dark skin, the shaved military hair cut, and the determined expression even with blood rapidly pooling around her head.

“Valerie!”. Lancer immediately kneels next to her, putting fingers to neck and grimaces over the lack of a pulse.

No ones ever died before. But... Lancer was trained to deal with death, in the case of a parent or Shakespeare forgive a student dying. So maybe he’s a little more calm than he should be but, no, never from a ghost attack. People might get hurt sure, but they don’t die! And this barely makes sense! Valerie looked to be in her late twenties. He scoops her up anyways, he is not just leaving her; gripping the staff tightly as he runs, panting heavily.

He sets her off near a more sturdy-looking building, there really was nothing he could do. Him slumping against the wall and crouching, “Chicken Soup For The Soul, what is going on here”, glancing at Valerie, “is this what the ghost meant by ‘cause of their death’?”, shaking his head and glancing to the staff, staring at the top, at the clock, the thing the ghost had been fiddling with. Was... was this a time-travelling device??? One way to find out... Lancer pokes at the nob on top, finding that won’t budge, then prodding the clock hands which move. Gulping, he pushes the hour hand backwards slowly and watches as the world around him reverses. Valerie seemingly glides along the ground and back through the building, the building puts itself back together, people run backwards; it’s a lot to take in.

Lancer pulls his hand away from the staff clock face, backs away from the people, slipping back into the alleyway and breathing out heavily. Glancing to the staff, “it is a time travel device”, he’s not sure whether to be in awe or completely horrified. Because that meant this was the future, he doesn’t want this to be that. Not by a mile. He flinches from the sound of a building collapsing, now knowing exactly what was happening out there.

Sliding down the wall and running a hand over his balding hair, he wants to go back, but what was the point of going back? His job was to prepare people for the future, prepare children for the future; but no one could be prepared for whatever this was. It was like something out of an apocalypse drama! The sound of another building going down sounds like definite emphasis. A sudden voice startles him, “that is indeed what it is”. Lancer snapping his head to the side and jolting upright, knees protesting; it’s the scythe-wielding ghost again... minus the scythe. And he looks like a proper ghost now, blue-skinned, cloaked, and sporting a ghostly tail.

Lancer narrows his eyes, more certain now that this ghost let him take the staff intentionally, “why?”.

The ghost almost seems to chuckle, “why not? A lesson taught in shock value sticks far better than any lesson plan, but I shouldn’t have to tell a human that. Now of course that isn’t the real question, now is it. No, the real one is why you”, the ghost floats a little closer, “why now”, and closer, “why here”, the ghost gets slightly closer and gestures with an arm, small screens appearing from thin air showing destruction taking place all around the globe, “and yet it’s not just here”; Lancer lets the ghost pretty well get up into his face, his back pressed up against the wall and shaking slightly. But where else is he going to go? Into the streets filled with suffering? He’ll take his chances here... and maybe this ghost had a point, not all ghosts were evil after all. Phantom proved that.

But as if on cue, a larger sneering ghost lands on the wall across the alleyway, cackling loudly and looking a lot like an older Phantom. But while Phantom felt safe, childish and goofy even, this ghost feels like death has arrived and is knocking down his front door with a battering ram. This ghost feels like terror and suffering without even looking at him; and looking felt like his god had come and he wanted nothing but his absolute obliteration. When Lancer jerked his head to take that unpleasant look to the side at the Phantom-like ghost, the strange ghost reaches out and taps the staff before yanking it away. Lancer snapping his head back to that ghost just as a purple portal opens up under his feet and he falls down. He’s almost glad purely because it’ll get him away from the Phantom-like ghost, away from death and torture come knocking.

If he stayed in this time, that time, nothing but brutal pain would await him.

Lancer staggers but manages to stay on his feet when he lands on the ground this time, putting a hand against what feels like wall to steady himself further; shivering still and glancing around cautiously. It looks as if he’s back in normal Amity but his gut’s doing flip-flops and, in the name of Dracula, he is trusting his gut. Especially after just having had run-ins with two of the only ghosts he’s ever felt truly and genuinely deeply afraid of. The only times he’s felt like something dead, something that was death itself, had set its eyes on him. His paranoia right now is cranked up to eleven.

Even so he still doesn’t expect the sudden explosion seeming to come from the building he’s directly behind that shakes the ground violently and blows out his eardrums, clapping his hands over his ears and wincing. He still walks cautiously to make his way around the building, coughing on the smoke as he goes; only to come face to face with bits and pieces of flesh and clothing.

Including clothing that looked disturbingly familiar to what was in his own closet. The breath he sucks in nearly makes him choke; from smoke and shock alike.

But looking up, there on the road, there’s Daniel kneeling on the ground with an outstretched hand looking stunned and red-eyed. And looking back down, Lancer understands, he gets it.

The bits of red hair.

The chunks of blue and orange spandex.

Half a dark-coloured beret.

The pair of almost jarringly intact faux leather combat boots.

The clothes that look so much like his own.

And the piece of the Nasty Burger sign impeded into the ground.

If Daniel never returned the test... this place, the Nasty Burger, was were he intended to take him and his parents; his sister of course would have came.... his friends too. They were there for him through thick and thin, even if that thick was cheating or expulsion or jail time or just a slap on the wrist. To Kill A Mocking Bird, they’d come faster and more determined than the boy’s own parents would.

There was something deeply wrong with that. Wasn’t there.

The sound of sirens overtaking the ringing in his ears gets him to look back up, back to Daniel who hasn’t so much as moved yet, his face is wet with tears. Lancer can’t do anything but watch the paramedics get to him, shake him and check him, try to ask him questions. He can’t do anything because... because he’s realised that this was what that ghost really meant. This was his own doing.

He brought Daniel and them all here in his vain self-indulgent desire to help the teen with what he thought were normal issues that just needed correction.

He brought them here and they all died because of it.

All of them but one.

And Lancer doesn’t have that staff to turn back the tides of time this time. He wishes he did because he doesn’t want, almost can’t bare, to watch Daniel be checked again and again. Watch the boy push them off when he remembers himself enough and refuses to let them take him away with surprising strength. Watches as Vladimir Masters, one of the richest men in the world, arrived seemingly out of nowhere and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

The amount of pure hatred filling Daniel’s eyes makes Lancer unable to doubt for even a second that Vladimir has something to do with this. But the green that flares up in those eyes is what finally makes Lancer move, jerk a step backwards. Yet still watching as Vladimir subtly jabs Daniel with something and the teen goes limp; the man telling the paramedics that he’ll handle this, that he can look after the boy himself, that he’s family. At first they protest but, with red flashing in their eyes, they agree.

And then... everything stops as if it’s a photo rather than real life. Even the puffs of smoke and steam are still.

“For a mortal to be faced with their own death, it is a grounding thing, is it not”.

Lancer doesn’t bother turning around, watching Daniel’s limp frozen form instead, “that’s not it”.

“Ah then perhaps it is Daniel, the one left behind, the forgotten child to fall between the cracks. The one the system, your system, failed”.

Lancer swallows and shakes his head weakly, but he doesn’t deny it because it’s not a lie. Lancer knows in his gut that wherever Vladimir is taking Daniel he won’t come back from.

Daniel was going to die.

And Lancer helped ensure that.

Because he did what he was supposed to do. He tried to help and he did, in some ways. But he missed something, missed a malicious presence, so entirely, so completely, that it didn’t matter; that it did the opposite of help.

Lancer glances to the side as the ghost, now appearing to look like a small buck-toothed child, floats near his shoulder, “there are times that you, as a mortal, must realise when you are at your limit. When something is simply outside of your reach. When someone is. And you must let go. If you do not...”, they tilt the staff just slightly and Lancer is transported with them to a place that looks like a lab. Lancer’s stomach drops.

Daniel is strapped down and thrashing against the restraints on a table.

Vladimir forcing a gas mask onto his face and slowly... that struggling dies.

Clawed gauntlets are wielded and Lancer can only watch as Daniel gets impaled by them and thrashes even though he’s unconscious.

Phantom is torn from him like something out of a nightmare and he lunges at Vladimir full of rage and wrath. Lancer’s never seen anything like this from the ghost, rage and hatred. The desire to hurt. He sees now how Phantom could have grown to become the other version he saw. This was how he was tainted.

Phantom, in his rage, tears a ghost out of Vladimir and devours him piece by ectoplasm splattered piece. The teen ghost has completely lost it.

Daniel has slipped off the table and woken up, has tried crawling off to the corner. It does him no good as Phantom sets his sights on Daniel.

Lancer collapses down to his knees and nearly vomits when Phantom violently tears out Daniel’s stomach, tossing intestines and organs across the room before tearing Daniel’s throat out with his teeth. He’d never imagined even ghosts to be capable of such cruelty. A bout of insanity, surely, that the hero wouldn’t come back from.

This wasn’t just Daniel’s death, but the fall of a hero too. Where they one and the same? Lancer isn’t going to claim to know, not after today.

The strange ghost speaks up again as Lancer stares down at the blood pooling on the ground and slowly creeping towards his knees. “Someday I will teach that boy, and I will teach him well. So, I want to make a deal”, the ghost leans over his shoulder near his face, all Lancer can do is side-eye them as the ghost continues, “he will live, mostly. He will thrive, in a way. But he will amount to absolutely nothing in your mortal society. In fact, he will amount to less than that, another failed statistic. And you, you will let him. He will misbehave, and you will wave it off. He will skip and miss classes, and you will let it go. He will do everything worthy of expulsion, and you will act as if no wrong has been done. You are but a bump in the road of his existence and you will act like it, and you may become his favourite adult because of that fact alone. People often appreciate the simple things in life, do they not. So be a simple thing. Deal?”.

Lancer swallows, “and everyone will be alright”. He doesn’t really have a choice here, does he?

“But of course”. The ghost sounds sickly sweet.

Lancer doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to or what he may be condemning Daniel to, but he nods weakly anyway; anything would be better than this after all.

“Much appreciated. Truly. He’ll make for a very satisfying-”.

Lancer jerks, spinning around, suddenly back in his classroom, an open empty briefcase sitting on his desk. He does hear the end of the ghosts statement though...

“-god”.

Lancer stares forwards for a bit before shaking his head violently and slumping down into his desk chair. Eyeing the briefcase warily, moving his hand and closing the lid with a soft click. Closing the lid on this day. Closing the lid on a teenager's future. Closing the lid on Daniel.

There’s something’s he’s better off not knowing. And some people better off left unhelped. The book of Daniel Fenton’s life is staying firmly unread. ‘God’ that ghost had said...

Glancing to the wall clock, it’s about that time that he talked to Jasmine, before whatever exactly that ghost was that messed with everything. But this time... Lancer’s staying right here. He’s not moving from this chair, he’s not reopening that briefcase, and he’s not talking to anyone.

He’s... not going to ignore Daniel but he is not even going to consider interfering with him and whatever The Great Gatsby was going on with the teen. He’s also going to run away if he ever even glimpses that cloaked staff-wielding ghost again. Very far away.

Daniel looks shocky and shaky the next day, but at least he and everyone else is alive. And Lancer’s going to have to live with his decisions and actions, or lack thereof.

End.

Prompt: Lancer + Time Travel

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rosaliepostsstuff · 3 years

Text

Yours truly - epilogue

warnings: food mentions, vague mention of war, a disgustingly sweet happy ending

word count: 2369

a/n: haha! you thought the series was over? well, now it will be. i totally did not cry while writing this, no no. also - i recommend, if you’re reading on desktop, open this on my blog. i recently changed my theme and i think the layout is great for reading.

tags: @izzyyy-1 ; @pandaxnienke ; @messagesinthesky ; @valwritesx ; @pineapplesandpinas ; @sirenswhispers ; @mitsukui ; @4amhotchner ; @theweasleysredhair ; @barneswidow ; @anxxi0s ; @scoobiessnacks ; @unseensilver ; @softlyqoos ; @amourtentiaa ; @anripoot ; @vogueweasley ; @subaehun ; @prismarts ; @harrysweasleys ; @mamawheeze ; @lumos-barnes ; @ickle-ronniekins ; @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 ; @dontreallywannabehere ; @28cnn ; @euphorictraveler ; @littlemisswitt ; @onlyfreds ; @latenightmiraclesss ; @weasleygrapes ; @hufflepuffalice ; @slytherclawbitch ; @freddie-weaselbee ; @famdomhideout ; @mollenniumfalcon ; @accioweaslcy ; @lunarlovegoodx ; @weasleysprofessionalhoe ;

series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist form

It felt odd. Exciting and nerve-wracking at once.

You tried to go about your day as usual. Occupying your overthinking mind with last bits of unpacking and tidying your room.

The idea seemed strange to your parents at first, that a friend of yours would come by for a visit the day after you arrived back at home. Which, after a month away, to them was equal to knocking on your door as soon as you closed it behind yourself.

It was the first time you had to have that type of conversation with your parents, naturally, it felt awkward. But when you told them the truth, they were respectful.

The hand of the clock on your bedroom’s wall, right above your desk, was getting dangerously close to 1.

You changed your clothes and put your hair up, just to sit behind your desk, having nothing else to do. That’s when the clock really started racing. It was a few minutes to 1 PM when your mum called from downstairs.

It was like nothing else you’ve felt before. Like meeting someone you know so well, and yet a completely new person.

Of course, you knew Fred from school. Who didn’t, at least from the rumours? And you had been one of the people that were on speaking terms with him, sharing a few classes, some mutual friends.

Fred never seemed like the type of guy that would be into you. You didn’t hold any significant feelings towards him back then, to be bothered by it, it was just a fact. You enjoyed interactions with him, nonetheless. Maybe subconsciously, enjoyed the rare attention received from him. And maybe that was the reason you had agreed to give him your address at the end of last term, instead of telling him to sod off.

Since then, you were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of a different side of him. To fall in love with him.

And how much has he changed. Not only physically, having his hair cut short and growing yet another few centimetres. The biggest change happened inside.

It was better than he could’ve ever imagined. When he felt all those things while still at school, he couldn’t have expected what would come out of it. Nothing he’s ever experienced was quite like this.

At the end of last term when he realised that - caught up in everything that was happening - he hasn’t made any progress with you, he came up with the idea of writing letters throughout the summer on the spot, running to catch up to you in one of the courtyards. Best he hoped for was some banter, maybe getting to know you a little better. Mostly, just making sure you didn’t grow apart throughout those long, two months – or even worse, start dating somebody else - so that he could properly take action as soon as September rolled around. He couldn’t know he’d fall in completely. Or that you’d fall too. And that he’d be welcomed in by your mum at that very moment.

You waited at the top of the stairs. The bannister you held onto could’ve been the only thing keeping you from collapsing once he appeared at the bottom and looked into your eyes. With that damn smile.

You didn’t know what that moment would look like before it happened. In your head, you wanted to hug Fred, hold him, kiss him. You were in love with him - you wanted all that. But you didn’t know if you could, meeting him for the first time. Would you still want that with a person you hadn’t actually developed any physical closeness with?

But once more, his words came useful, as you realised you had worried unnecessarily.

‘Stop overthinking and enjoy the ride, sweetheart.’ – he advised you a while ago.

So when he ran up the stairs your arms outstretched themselves on their own accord, waiting.

“Hi,” you giggled while he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up in a tight hug. His emotions exhibited themselves in a spin he gave you. Pressing your face to the crook of his neck, you recognised the scent you knew from his letters before he put you back down.

“Hi,” he replied, finally, pulling away from the hug a bit to look at you once more. His hands still rested on your waist and as he looked into your eyes and both of you thought the same thing. It was the perfect opportunity for a kiss.

Fred swallowed, running his eyes over your face, taking it in.

“Good to finally see you,” he said, standing straight, and you chuckled, letting him know the feeling was mutual.

Seeing Fred Weasley in your room, your personal space, felt odd as well. Once again, the thought of being lucky enough to call yourself his girlfriend (even though the two of you haven’t specified your relationship just yet) appeared in your mind. But he called you that.

And there he was, standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking around. Looking even more handsome than you remembered. You wanted to learn Fred, learn him physically.

He turned back to you and you locked eyes as he caught you with that shy, yet giddy smile on your face. The smile you got back in return made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. With newfound confidence you stepped closer to him and took his hand, intertwining your fingers together. It fit perfectly, like magic.

“See, that’s the wardrobe door I told you about in the letter, that gave me this battle scar,” you told him, pointing at the piece of furniture first, then the faint mark left on the skin of your arm.

Fred didn’t hesitate to take your arm in his hand and brush his thumb over the scar. Apparently, Fred was very touchy. It was exhilarating, but nice. You could get used to that.

“Seems like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?” he chuckled. You agreed with him, thinking back to those first few letters you’d exchanged at the beginning of summer. “Oh, that reminds me!” you perked up suddenly. “Make yourself comfortable here, ok? I’ll be just a moment, I have something prepared…” you explained, receiving a nod from Fred, before dashing out the door.

This gave Fred a chance to have a proper look around. He wasn’t invading your privacy since everything he was looking at was out in the open, but it would’ve felt weird, just analysing it in your presence.

Taking a seat by your desk, he could take out much from the objects lying around there. And in the corner of the desktop, sat a pretty box with its lid slightly open. He didn’t want to look, but through the crack, he saw something paper.

“The letters…” he whispered to himself and without further thought slid the box over to himself. There they were, his letters – each and every one of them, placed neatly and chronologically. No one has ever cherished anything received from Fred as much.

“See you helped yourself,” you quipped, having walked into the room with a plate of muffins in your hand. “What if I hid something else in that box? Something real embarrassing?” you asked, walking over to him after placing the tray down on your tea table.

“It wasn’t closed properly, I could see it was letters,” he explained, turning to you. “Unless you’re exchanging letters with some other boys too?” he joked. “You think only boys could be your competition, Weasley?” you swung back, placing your arm at the back of his shoulders with a mischievous smile. “But no, not like with you, I don’t,” you reassured him in the end.

Another moment of meaningful eye contact passed, before Fred changed the topic, noticing the baked goodies. You could watch him stuffing his face for hours.

Still enjoying a muffin, you walked up to one of your cupboards, to retrieve a box with your surprise.

“I’d like to remind you that I’m still very much a beginner with clay so it may be simple, but one day I might make something nicer. If you’ll still want it, of course,” you said, handing him the box. You sat back down on the sofa next to him, with an anxious smile.

He opened the box, revealing a mug, painted with his nickname on the side. His face lit up in a smile. True, it may have been simple, but he could also see the effort you had put into it, and that was enough to melt his heart.

“Do you like it?” you asked in a small voice. “I love it,” he replied simply, still moved by the gesture. He gave you a one-armed hug, still holding the mug in one of his hands – already thinking of using it every day, for as long as it could serve him.

“Ok, let’s not forget,” he began, composing himself, “I promised a surprise for you too.” “You did,” you replied, leaning back against the couch and flashing him a smile.

You watched as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a tiny firework.

“Freddie,” you pleaded, in disbelief of how typical of him that was. “It’s indoor safe, I promise!” he laughed, “I haven’t blown myself up yet, have I?” he asked, looking at you expectantly with his gleaming eyes.

So after a deep sigh, you nodded, allowing him to proceed.

He pulled out his wand and after throwing the firework into the air, lit it up. It was beautiful, golden, pink and white, mesmerising shapes changing constantly. In the end, a sentence appeared, lighting up the whole room, along with your whole world.

Will you be my girlfriend?

“I told you already in the letters how in love with you I am… you said you feel the same. I wanted to make it official,” he said, looking at you now, as the fireworks slowly faded away.

“Yes. Of course,” you answered, positive your heart has melted at the gesture. Your hands reached out a bit awkwardly, unknowing if you wanted to hold his hands or hug him.

Fred leaned close to you and placing his hands on your waist, kissed you.

Was true love really magic’s work, or was Fred just a really good kisser? You couldn’t know that, but you also couldn’t care less as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. You just never wanted to kiss anyone else, and kiss only him, for as long as you both shall live.

He was delicate and loving, one of his hands moved to the side of your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb as he kept placing soft pecks on your lips, unable to pull himself away.

“You’re intoxicating,” he muttered against your lips before kissing you on the forehead, then sitting back straight. “I could tell you the same thing,” you replied, dumbfounded.

“I got something else, too…” Fred admitted sheepishly, diving into his pocket once more to retrieve a small box. He opened it in front of you, revealing a bracelet – a dark, simple, aesthetical string with a small shape attached to it. A tiny, silver envelope.

“It’s beautiful, Freddie,” you whispered, brushing your finger over the metal. “I’ve got one too, so if you want-” he began, taking another bracelet out of his pocket, without a box this time, but you didn’t wait for him to finish.

You took your bracelet out of the box and gestured for him to help you tie it, then took his, and tied it around his wrist. You were admiring the view, when Fred interrupted you.

“Want to see something cool?” he asked you with a smirk, then took your bracelet hand in his and you watched the pendant emit a soft, magical glow.

“You really are a romantic, Fred Weasley…” you stated.

“You made me one.”

You’re probably wondering what happened next, dear reader? Very well, I can’t just leave you hanging. After all, it would be a dishonour to cut off this beautiful story of Y/N and Fred’s love like that. And what a beautiful love it was.

That September was the first time the both of them were that happy to get back to school. It allowed them to see each other every day, after all, even if Y/N took quite a few more classes than Fred. They quickly realised what they had was more than just a school romance. They used their last year at Hogwarts to its fullest, before Fred took off with his twin brother and Y/N graduated, according to plan, in June.

The current state of the wizarding world meant Y/N had to put her career plans on hold, but she was happy to help Fred and George in their shop instead.

As Fred had Y/N’s promise, to help him with raising a puppy – they adopted one together, one that they both fell in love with at first sight. The dog later proved to be a valid, contributing member of the Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes.

Their relationship flourished, they complimented each other perfectly, supported each other during the war when they both needed it most.

After Voldemort had been defeated and Y/N got her dream job, she and Fred decided to rent a nice, comfortable flat in London. Just like they planned, they used a lot of their time off from work to travel together – taking their dog with them whenever they could. It was during one of their trips, when Fred proposed to Y/N, with a crazy, elaborate scheme.

They got married in a simple, yet beautiful ceremony, surrounded by loved ones. They had three children – two girls and a boy.

When Fred’s business started doing really well, they moved to a ridiculously charming old house, but in England, so that he could focus on his family more. How did they spend their days? I’m sure you can imagine. And when they retired, their lives slowed down, just a tiny bit.

But Fred Weasley remained a romantic, even as they were both old and grey. And the act of exchanging letters remained special for them, throughout all of their happily ever after.

The end.

#fred weasley series #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfiction

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threadofdestiny · 3 years

Text

Magnolia (Bakugou x f!reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know :)

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Chapter 2

The Emperor's Order

"...So, to sum it up in a few words: The situation in the north is steadily worsening!", Aizawa finished his report in a monotone voice while rubbing one of his dry eyes. Dark circles around them adorned the man's tired face and testified the many sleepless nights he had endured.

With a suppressed groan, Toshinori settled into the ornate chair at the head of the table as he nodded to his dark-haired general, while he placed his hand over the badly healed injury he received a long time ago. His gaze wandered intently over the huge map of his kingdom as he considered the small figures carefully placed on the neat leather. "We will have to reinforce the borders there, there and there. Shigaraki is getting more and more brash every time, attacking small villages and troops regardless of losses.", the Emperor replied, equally exhausted, before turning to his youngest Shogun, who had taken a seat at his table:"Young Bakugou, you took over the late Shigaraki's lands after the attack against the throne was averted. His forces have been crushed, but there are enough signs that he is still moving within your and Aizawa's borders. I will order that you receive men from the other shogunates to better contain the danger. So prepare yourselves for the gathering of new samurai and soldiers." The young man who was addressed by Toshinori nodded somberly before scribbling something down on the paper that lay on the table in front of him.

"However, I have not called you together today mainly to discus matters of war.", once again sounded the clear voice of the frail emperor, who had once been the strongest of all samurai. However, this was before his time as the head of his empire. Back when his mentor had ruled over this country and he had been his loyal general, as the symbol of peace. But this had been in the past for what felt like an eternity. "We will have to talk about the fact that I have neither heirs nor living family members who could take my place should I loose my life early. My health is not what it once was. So it is urgently time, now that the situation is getting worse, to talk about my legacy if we are to prevent a war for the throne if I may pass away!", explained Toshinori as he looked each person firmly in their eyes. His bony hand wandered over his ribs massaging the old injury that had made him the man he was today. Despite the fact that his body was only a shadow of its former self after the tragic attack, his eyes and voice still showed the sharp mind that Toshinori possessed. No one dared to raise an objection as he steered the topic in that direction, knowing full well how urgent the matter was. "Now that my health is slowly declining, many have their eyes set on the throne and enough have already tried to seize it by force," he continued to speak as he saw his loyal men tense at his ominous words. Midoriya Izuku swallowed hard as he heard his mentor's insinuations. The thought that Shigaraki himself had almost succeeded in putting these plans into action sent a shiver down his spine. "Accordingly, after much thought, I have decided to declare Midoriya Izuku as my heir. With the young Todoroki Shoto, who will inherit the largest shogunate in the south in due course, and with Bakugou, who will guard the northern borders. I see this as a steadfast cornerstone for the coming future.", Toshinori finished his speech without further ado, while he looked into the now shocked faces of his former students. General Aizawa, on the other hand, did not seem surprised to hear the emperor's plans.

"Your H-Highness. I-I'm not sure if I'm up to this!" breathed Izuku in shock, while Bakugou on the other side of the table snorted derisively. The young shogun was one of the most loyal men of the crown, and yet he wasn't exactly known for having a friendly disposition. He and the green-haired samurai did not have the most loving relationship with each other. Since childhood, they had learned the way of the bushido together under the protective hands of Aizawa and Toshinori. Side by side they had grown into the men they were today, but their different personalities had always ensured that they could never completely let go of their rivalry, even if they had already proven in the past that they could work together if they had to. Bakugou detested Izuku's indulgent, soft traits. That a man of his disposition had managed to keep up with the proud and talented boy had put a damper on him over and over again. Bakugou was a goal-oriented and fierce young samurai who had worked his way to the top with only his own strength and steely will. He was stubborn, ruthless and temperamental, but he had proven many times, that he was a good leader and loyal comrade despite his personality. His reputation as a bloodthirsty warrior however, made even the most experienced swordsmen tremble, perfect for the role as the warden of the northern borders. Someone like the young shogun would only take orders from someone he truly respected. It was therefore completely inconceivable to Izuku that someone like Bakugou would ever accept him as his emperor.

Worried, the green-haired man looked briefly at his former fellow pupil who stared him down in surprising silence with his deadly red eyes. Actually, Izuku would have expected Bakugou to be enraged after the emperor said that his rival should become the next heir to the throne, but instead of freaking out, the man just clenched his jaw and watched him with an iron expression. "You are well trained, young Midoriya. I am certain, that you will grow into this role, with my guidance. Of course, I am equally aware that you and young Bakugou have a somewhat bumpy relationship. But neither of you is a fool, which is why you know full well that such an alliance is exactly what this country will need in the future. You will have to face many people in your life who will question you. However, with Bakugou by your side, you will be able to overcome them. You as my heir will become the new symbol of peace, while you should consider young Bakugou as your future general. He as your sword and shield should be able to secure the future we all strive for in the depths of our being, don't you think?" Toshinori confidently assured before turning to Bakugou, who was now glaring down at the table with his arms folded in front of his chest. He had averted his gaze with a snort after the emperor's last words, but to everyone's surprise, he had not voiced any objections.

"In fact, a desirable thought occurred to me yesterday during the introduction of the young debutantes, which is why I have come to the conclusion that I would like to solidify this alliance I envision for the future with a consolidating bond.", the emperor declared after a short break, while he pulled out a prewritten contract from one of his long sleeves. "W-What do you mean?", rang out Izuku's indignant voice, while he was giving Bakugou an anxious look out of the corner of his eyes. The young shogun also seemed to wonder in which direction the conversation seemed to lead, but he remained silent as he waited concertedly for his emperor to continue speaking:"Well, you and Bakugou have reached an age where it makes sense to marry and start a family. Bakugou my not have any siblings, but coincidentally, you possess a younger sister of marriageable age. What alliance is more solid than that of a family brought together?" "B-But isn't this a somewhat hasty decision! I haven't even had a chance to look around for other families who would be sufficient for her.", Izuku tried to object as he imagined in horror of having to give his sweet, loving (Y/N) to his ruthless, temperamental rival. "Are you saying I'm not good enough for your damn sister, Deku? Or were you not listening just now? We are on the brink of a fucking war!", the blond shogun growled angrily as he slammed his fist down on the table, while his patience was wearing thin. Bakugou's body tensed dangerously as he made a move to rise threateningly while staring down at his former fellow pupil in offense. Panicked, Izuku looked from the emperor to the shogun, only to shake his head hurriedly to placate the temperamental man.

"N-No, it's just... I... didn't think you would agree... a-and... well...", stammered the green-haired man, while he hurriedly waved off that he was not happy about the outcome of this conversation. Of course, Izuku saw that this would be a solid alliance when viewed from a political perspective, but it did not change the fact that he did not feel comfortable with the thought of having to give his sister to Bakugou. "I think this is an excellent opportunity to bury your hatchet. An official connection between your two families will strengthen the throne on which you will sit in due course, Midoriya. Fewer people will dare to go against you if it is clear that the two of you support each other.", General Aizawa interrupted his former students with a bored tone as he placed his hand on Bakugou's shoulder to stop him from jumping over the table and strangling his rival on the spot. "Then it is decided! Young Bakugou will marry Young Midoryia's sister.", the emperor declared with a confirming nod. Swallowing, the head of the Midoriya family dropped his objection when he realized he was outvoted. Tormented, he thought about how he should prepare his sister for a man like Bakugou, while said man was surprisingly cooperative and collected despite the fact, that he will have to marry the little sister of his childhood rival.

The presentation of the debutantes at the imperial court had been a resounding success for the venerable Midoriya family. No other young lady had received such high praise like the daughter of this house. Not only her mother, but also her brother, Izuku, had beamed with pride and embraced his sister directly in his strong arms after they escaped the piercing eyes of society when they had finally arrived at their home after a long afternoon.

The young girl, however, would not have thought that the euphoria would be dampened just one day after the festivities, but when Izuku had returned from the audience with the emperor, he had looked exhausted and unhappy. Reddish spots from the stress he had experienced covered his cheekbones that was dotted with freckles. His green eyes shone with sorrow as he retreated unceremoniously to their late father's study, leaving her alone with their mother in the parlor, without much more than a tired greeting.

His little sister had made such a flawless performence, which even he had only been able to admire with bated breath. Jealousy had almost gripped him a little when he had observed how fearlessly and successfully she had been able to face up to this task at her tender age. Despite the fact that he was now one of the most powerful noble warriors of his generation, even nowadays he was still a rather reserved and shy man. When he was her age, he would not have been able to step so fearlessly towards the emperor of that time. But does that mean that his gentle sister would also be strong enough to be able to stand by the feared shogun's side? What if Bakugou turned his dislike of Izuku to (Y/N) just because she shared his blood? He couldn't bear the thought of the latter possibly suffering from their difficult relationship.

Izuku's hands had buried themselves desperately in his full, wavy hair as he had bent over the emperor's written order. The hours passed in the small stuffy room without the young lord truly registering it. Only the wandering of the sun, which constantly changed the incidence of light through the window, testified that time had not stopped, but no matter how long he sat there, the young lord would not think of a solution to this precarious situation.

How could he explain to his sister that she had been promised to a man just one day after her debut? Izuku had wanted to give her a say in the matter who she was going to marry in the future, but now his hands were tied, for even as the heir to the emperor, he did not have the right to ignore the crown's decision. The entire situation was an unbelievable catastrophe in the eyes of the young head of the family. He doubted that a simple wedding would allow him and Bakugou to put aside their differences. Even worse, the man now had something in his hands that Izuku loved with all his heart. The green-haired heir was a family man. He adored his mother and sister and wished only the best for them.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was a person who had forgotten how to feel tender feelings for someone else after he had buried his vulnerability under all the blood he had shed in the past. He was someone who had learned how to hate more than how to love. Izuku could not imagine that (Y/N) could be happy at this man's side. That was what bothered him the most. His childhood rival was not a bad person, although he had done some pretty bad things in the past. He trusted Bakugou to do the best for his country's security, but was a brute like him also able to protect the fragile heart of a sheltered girl? Bakugou hated Izuku. That much was certain. So would he hate his sister, as well? The thought that she might be stuck in an unloved marriage caused Izuku's heart to contract painfully.

Completely lost in his own thoughts, the young householder only noticed how much time had passed, when a servant had served him tea and food in the early evening. As if spellbound, he had been looking at the letter that sealed his sister's fate. With a deep sigh, the young man slumped down before lifting his head to rise his gaze at his servant:"Bring me my sister, please!" Izuku commanded before watching him bow and leave.

It had taken only a few moments for (Y/N) to enter the room with a look of concern. She had neither kneeled nor indicated a bow when she had entered the study, as such formalities were not expected in front of Izuku. He and his sister were very close, even if he hadn't spent much of his life growing up with her. "Is everything all right, brother?" she asked cautiously after approaching the table where Izuku had been huddled, unchanged, for several hours. "I have important news for you!" he sighed as he gestured with his scarred hand for her to sit across from him. "The emperor was very fond of you.", her brother began with a sad smile as his sister sat down. He watched as she placed her hands demurely in her lap and returned his expression gratefully. "... In fact, he was so excited that he had personally ordered a wedding between you and one of his closest followers.", he explained hesitantly as he watched sudden surprise appear on his sister's countenance. Completely perplexed, (Y/N) looked up at him as she absorbed the pronounced information. For a brief moment, her attention swung to the document bearing the Emperor's seal before she looked back at her brother, gulping. This turn of events had been completely unpredictable for her. The youngest Midoriya's heartbeat stopped for a moment when she realized that her fate was already sealed with this document, before different families could have come to them at all. The thought of not being able to control the further course of events made her truly afraid, even if she tried not to let it show. She didn't want her brother to feel even more agitated than he already was, because neither of them could do anything about the emperor's decision. "W-Who is it?", she asked accordingly without making any effort to speak out against the decision. However, the pained expression on her brother's face only caused more unease to spread through the pit of her stomach.

"... Bakugou Katsuki!", replied Izuku after a long hesitation. A shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine when she heard the name of her future husband. Silence spread between the siblings for a moment, while (Y/N) tried to swallow the rising lump in her throat. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes before quietly clearing her throat: "Isn't he one of the other two lords who had studied together with you under the emperor?", (Y/N) asked silently, while she tried to hide the shaking within her voice. Unfortunately, her brother had not often mentioned Bakugou in his stories, so her information on him was exceedingly sparse. However, she knew enough rumors that circulated around this man, although of course it was impossible to tell which ones actually held a shred of truth. Nodding, Izuku cleared his throat as he reached for his teacup, which already felt rather cool in his scarred hands. "He is the youngest man to be elevated to the rank of shogun. He rules over a large part of the northernmost lands. He... is, in consideration of his status, an... excellent match...", he explained hesitantly, before covering part of his pained expression with the richly decorated porcelain. (Y/N) was thoughtfully silent as she weighed this detail internally. A man appointed to the rank of shogun by her current emperor could not be a bad person, could he? What kind of man was Bakugou Katsuki? Was he the bloodthirsty warrior like everybody whispered behind his back, or was he a loyal supporter of the crown, who was just misunderstood? Izuku did look unhappy, but maybe it was just because Bakugou was his rival. That much, after all, she was aware of. With clenched hands, (Y/N) tried to tell herself that this man didn't have to be her downfall, however, she could feel uncertainty raising in her stomach. No matter how she twisted or turned it, she would have to somehow come to terms with her situation without falling into a panic attack.

Clicking his tongue, Bakugou downed his tea before brashly taking his dinner, while he ignored his companion. "Tell me, why are you in such a bad mood tonight?", Kirishima persistently inquired for the third time, while he also helped himself to the food that the servants had provided for their master. One of the kitchen maids blushingly placed a bowl of rice in front of him and received a beaming smile from the charming, always good-humored samurai. Bakugou grunted meaninglessly and continued eating in silence without giving his companion a proper answer. "We could be at the Kaminari family's celebration right now. But you decided to throw our plans out the window.", the red-haired man sighed in dismay as he watched his best friend closely. "The festivities at the Kaminari family would certainly have been a good start to get to know the families of the young unmarried ladies. If you want to comply with your family's requests to finally find yourself a wife, you're going to have to start dealing with people.", he added testingly after a brief pause, receiving a contemptuous snort in response. "It's too late for that shit now anyway. So I might as well stay at home where I don't have talk with all those lickspittles.", the blond man hissed in annoyance, not looking up from his dinner.

Surprised, Kirishima began to sit up straighter after Bakugou had finally answered his questioning properly for the first time. Deciding not to give up, he leaned forward a bit to watch the blond man closely before continuing with his questions: "Why is that? Have you already found a suitable wife without my knowledge?"

The way the young shogun paused for a moment gave the curious samurai exactly the answer he was looking for. Interested, Kirishima watched as his counterpart's red eyes lost focus and Bakugou began to drift off in his thoughts. In the Shogun's mind's eye, the figure of his rival appeared, who's expression was filled with horror, when he began to understand that the Emperor had ordered his sister to be married to Bakugou in order to strengthen an alliance between them. With clenched teeth, he then imagined the young girl who had been presented to the emperor two days ago as a debutante. Soft and innocent, she had strode past the crowd and bowed in front of the crown with ragged breaths. She had seemed braver than Izuku could have been at her age, and yet Bakugou could not shake the image of her looking up at him in fear, much as her brother had done years ago. A tearful, frightened girl was not exactly the kind of woman he imagined at his side, but what could he do about the emperor's decision? He had come to the capital with the intention of finding a wife, but this was not how he had imagined it. Not with the little sister of damn Midoriya Izuku.

"No matter which lady you're thinking of, I think you should send her a bouquet of flowers, or better yet, pay your respects to her family right away! I bet they'll greet you with a kiss on the hand if you've already made up your mind.", the red-haired gentleman interrupted the silence. Immediately, Bakugou turned his scowl on his best friend and gave another disdainful snort before replying:"No way!", he barked angrily as he clutched his chopsticks so tightly that they began to crack dangerously. "Well... You'll have to know in the end. But nothing comes from nothing. If you want that girl to like you, you're going to have to be benevolent towards her.", Kirishima replied with a grin, as he folded his arms behind his head. "So if I were you, I would start courting her before someone else does. Or perhaps the family has already rejected you because your reputation doesn't appeal to them?"

That comment was the last straw that broke the camel's back for Bakugou. Bursting, the chopsticks broke in the temperamental shogun's hand. What did he care if others were interested in the girl? Even if the emperor had not ordered a marriage between them, his rival could not have refused the courtship of a shogun. Even without his title, no one could have refused Bakugou if he wanted something. Especially not such an effeminate person as Midoriya Izuku. Not that he cares anyway. He couldn't care less who was going to be his wife, as long as she was able to fulfill her damn duty's.

However, it was a complete waste of time to worry about such things. In the end, the current emperor had taken the decision of what would happen from them either way. She would become his wife whether he sent her flowers or not. Bakugou hated it when people tried to force something on him. If the order had not come from the emperor himself, the person who would have dared to do such a thing would have had a tongue for the longest time. He would have ripped it out without hesitations. But Toshinori was damn right that Bakugou was no fool. The ash-blond man had seen the extent of the rebellion in the north with his own eyes. The opponents of the crown grew bolder now that they thought the throne stood on sawn, wobbly legs. Despite Deku's effeminate personality, he was a good candidate for the crown. The young shogun would never admit it openly, but Midoriya's self-sacrificing and solution-oriented nature would make him a good emperor if Bakugou stood by his side to strike down those who would take advantage of his good nature. A marriage union between Bakugou Katsuki and the future emperor's sister would make a powerful statement. It would change conditions on the border as well as in the capital for the better, but did he have to spend more time than necessary with Deku because of it? Hell, fucking no!

"No ten horses will make me seek out Deku if not necessary!", Bakugou stated icily, before realizing that he had now given the unknown girl an identity. Realization flashed in Kirishima's eyes as he heard who the young shogun was thinking about. "The girl in question is little Miss Midoriya? I didn't think it would be her who would steal your attention. Even though I'm sure she left a lasting impression on many the day before yesterday. I heard that the matchmakers also spoke highly of her. A true gem, I've heard." Gritting his teeth, Bakugou turned away from his friend as he heard all the compliments about his future wife. He had no interest in talking about her, but the latter still seemed reluctant to drop the subject.

"Well, probably you should actually leave her alone...", Kirishima finally relented. He paused briefly for the dramatic impact, gleefully eating some vegetables, watching as the young householder slowly taxed him again with a piercing gaze:"What are you trying to say?" "Well... I guess the tension that exists between you and Midoriya-san certainly wouldn't be beneficial to such a connection. After all, you've never quite been able to put aside your youthful rivalry. I am sure that he would not be very enthusiastic if you tried to court his little sister all of a sudden. Actually, I'm sure he'll reject you outright.", Kirishima replied innocently as he inwardly counted to three.

"WHAT, like that damn Deku is going to be able to stop me from courting his little sister. Nobody rejects a damn shogun out of anything! Not even the Emperor's fucking favorite, you hear me?", he snarled at his friend before turning angrily to one of the servants. "You! Go buy the most expensive flowers you can find and send them to the fucking Midoriya household! Make sure Deku sees exactly who sent her that stupid bouquet. Let that weak little good-for-nothing die at the thought that he can't do anything about the fact that I'm going to marry his damn sister.", Bakugou ordered, cursing, before rising angrily to stomp out of the room. Arriving at the door, the young shogun turned once more to Kirishima, who looked after him in perplexity at his choice of words. "And just so we're clear. The damn emperor ordered the wedding. Like I'm going to deign to marry Deku's sister on my own otherwise, you understand?"

#bakugou x reader #Bakugou x female reader #bakugou x yn #Bakugou #Bakugou Katsuki #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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