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skulduggery-pleasant-bp9 · 1 year

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Part 7 – A small visit

WARNING!: Mention of suicide, Mention of homeless child, Mentally unhealthy and emotionally unstable Reader, Cursing, mention of murder/killing, AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

Read THIS to understand why the reader has a name !

Erskin didn’t lie, when he said he was probably not ready to face Skulduggery yet, but he HAD to make sure he is okay. It was an urge that he couldn’t turn off.

He stood in front of Skulduggery’s front door and knocked. He took a deep breath as he waited for him to answer. He was there, his Bentley stood in its usual place, so he was here.

The front door clicked and soon opened. Out looked Skulduggery without a façade.

“Erskin ? What are you doing here ?”, he asked with a hollow voice.

Erskin winced in his mind. He was emotionally and mentally drained from that information.

“Valkyrie told me that China had a part in...you know... I thought I better check on you, to make sure you are as okay as you can be at the moment. She is worried about you. You didn’t talk to her for two days now.”, Erskin explained softly.

In his head started a small panic attack and his heart started to beat a bit quicker than it should. He knew it was a bad idea, but he HAD to help Skulduggery. He helped Erskin so much when he was a child, now it’s his turn to help.

Skulduggery just stood there, not saying anything.

“Do you want to come in for a little bit, before you go back to the Hotel ?”, the skeleton detective then asked.

Erskin swallowed the lump in his throat and controlled his panic attack.

“Sure. If you want me to stay for a bit.”, he replied.

Skulduggery opened the door wider, stepping aside too, for him to enter and Erskin did enter. Skulduggery closed the door and Erskin took off his shoes.

“Do Anton and Ghastly know that you are here ?”, he asked.

“No. They don’t know that I left at all. I will get a scolding when I return, but meh. It’s not like they will kill me.”

Skulduggery nodded softly.

“Do you...want me to use the façade, so you can read my emotions ?”, he asked.

Erskin was shocked at that question. Skulduggery never asked him if he should. There was definitely something going on with him...

“No, you don’t have to. I can use my vision. I bet Valkyrie told you about that small trait that I told her. I CAN see souls. I can use my vision to read your emotions.”

“How would that even work ?”

“Well, it’s complicated to explain, but in short, when I see souls, I see their bodies and faces. You may be just a skeleton to the living eye, but if I use my vision, I see a transparent version of you, like you still look alive. I know I am horrible in explaining stuff... But it is the best I can explain it to someone...”, Erskin mumbled embarrassed.

“I get the image... You can control your vision ?”

“I can now since...I went to the Temple of Necromancers. When I learned Necromancy, I learned how to control my vision. How to turn it off and on by will. I just rarely do it nowadays. It feels like invading privacy.”

“You can use it on me anytime, Erskin. You don’t need my permission for that.”

Alright, WHAT happened to Skulduggery Pleasant ? This is so out of character for him. Erskin grew nervous and scared of what he will see if he uses his vision ability now. But...Skulduggery sounded so empty and sad...

“O-okay... Been a while so I’m a bit nervous. Haha !”, Erskin chuckled nervously.

Then he activated his vision sight and saw Skulduggery’s transparent soul looking down at the floor. His soul color was orange and you could barely make out his hair was once brown and his eyes forest green. The clothes he wore on the skeleton are also on his soul version and his hair was middle long and tied to a ponytail, slightly curly too, like soft waves.

He looked sad and ashamed. Erskin grew worried.

“What happened ? Are you that surprised about China ?”, he asked.

Skulduggery sighed and his eyes moved up to look at him.

“I didn’t expect her to...have done that to my family, nor did I expect that she was there when it all happened.”

Erskin froze up.

“She .... W h a t ?”

A sad smile from Skulduggery.

“You heard me the first time.”

“Where is she ? I will kill her myself.”, Erskin said darkly.

Skulduggery shook his head.

“Not important. I just...can’t process this information as good as I should. My family has been dead for a while now. It...shouldn’t matter anymore.”

“I know why it still matters to you. You loved your family very much, you were emotionally very attached to them, you cherished your wife and Son, your Son made your worst days to the best ones....They loved you very much too. Because of all of that, you, without knowing, became possessive and overprotective. Someone looked at them the wrong way or in a way you didn’t like, you made it instantly clear they were yours. But when the war happened, you couldn’t be there for them. You let them out of your sight for a second and they got snatched away and killed in front of you. And you couldn’t do anything about it.”

Skulduggery turned his head to his right and looked away. His soul face screwed up in phantom pain. It still hurt him to talk about it. Erskin frowned, but he had to say it, to make him understand why it still mattered.

“It still hurts you to talk about them and what happened, BECAUSE you are still attached to them, but not just emotionally now. You are attached to them mentally too now. After your unfortunate end...you watched everything go to shit and came back. You came back with rage and anger, yes, but also because of your family. The only downside was that, because your family was no more around and you went through a difficult phase, you had no one to help and support you, to stay on the right path. You stopped caring, because it finally sunk in that you don’t have a family anymore. It destroyed you mentally and numbed you emotionally for a long while. It took me YEARS to understand why you ignored and avoided me so much. It was the only conclusion I could find.”

‘Yet you still had many panic attacks and breakdowns...’, Skulduggery thought saddened.

“You didn’t know how to handle that. You tried to, but as soon as someone mentioned your family, you were ready to kill them. So they became a taboo to talk about. But...you can’t heal, when you don’t talk about it.”

Skulduggery looked at him again, with sad eyes. They looked like they were crying. Maybe he actually was crying, his soul form looked pained, it would make sense. Erskin came closer and took Skulduggery’s gloved hands in his own and looked at him.

“I understand that it is hard to talk about something that scarred you in every way imaginable. I don’t...understand your pain as good as Ghastly...I didn’t had many people that loved me in my family by blood, but I can relate a little bit. When you died...I was ready to die too. I guess you must have felt that way slightly too, when they left. But, life goes on and so do they with us. Yes, your wife and Son aren’t here physically anymore, but they live on with us. You don’t have to forget them, nor is anyone expecting you to not care about them anymore, but you really need to start to open up again.”

Skulduggery stared at their hands and listened closely. He never heard so much wisdom from Erskin.... So much wisdom that he himself doesn’t use.

“I don’t expect you to go to a therapist, nor that you talk with a sensitive, but Skulduggery...you have friends. Yes, they might leave one day too, but until then, they can help you. They are here for you. At least talk to them about such things, let them hear your troubles, confide in them a little bit. Open up and let them help you get better.”

He looked from their hands up to Erskin’s face. He looked at him too.

“Do you really think that...they can help ?”, he asked Erskin.

“Skul...I see them as my Family. You are a part of it. You all behave like big Brothers to me. Besides you, you behaved like a Dad. I believe they can help you, because they helped me too. You, out of all people, should know that you can have more than ONE family, without being unfaithful. YOU, The Dead Men, are MY family and we are not blood related. Maybe, I don’t know, you see them slightly as your family too. Maybe as the Brothers you never thought you’d have. I love you all and I care about all of you. Even though, I don’t show it very much. It’s...hard to show emotions, when you were raised, as a child, to not have any emotions. But I am trying.”

Skulduggery smiled a small smile and chuckled, while a tear rolled down his transparent cheek. Erskin smiled at him with glassy eyes too. Then he boxed Skulduggery’s shoulder softly.

“You can be such a pain, but god. You’re my best friend, even if I am not your best bud. If you would ever vanish from this world, I would miss you terribly.”, Erskin chuckled out with a shaky smile.

Skulduggery smiled softly and pulled Erskin into a hug. Erskin was surprised and didn’t move at first.

“Thank you, Erskin.”, he then said.

Erskin hugged him back carefully.

“Sure, no problem. Anything for a friend.”, he replied with a smile in his voice.

Erskin didn’t even notice that his panic attack dissipated. He never felt that happy since after the war, near Skulduggery. It was so long ago. Soon they parted.

“When do you think we can talk ? There is...more to what Scorn told me, but I think we both need a clear head to talk about it.”, Skulduggery asked.

“I mean, I was almost scared that you were totally out of it when I came here and told Val that I would need a month probably. But...hmm...maybe next week instead ? You also could come tomorrow, but I think you need a bit longer to have a clear head.”, Erskin suggested.

“Hmm...good idea. Next week it is then. And I will call Valkyrie tomorrow.”

“Okay. You can tell her I was here, but...please ask her for me to not smack me. I swear I didn’t lie to her, but I really had to check on you.”

He chuckled.

“I will tell her that. Until next week, Erskin.”

“Yep. If anything else is troubling you two, just give me a call and I will see how I can help.”

“Will do. Good night.”

“Good night, Skul.”

With that Erskin teleported away and back to Hotel Midnight. In his room was already an angry looking Anton and a pissed off looking Ghastly.

“Ah shit...”, he mumbled and slumped.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ?!”, they both yelled.

Erskin winced and looked away.

“I killed the Vampire that didn’t leave Valkyrie alone. He got...aggressive and I had to kill him. He hurt her, tried to make her obey him...maybe even turn her. Then we talked a bit and now here I am.”, he explained.

They stared at Erskin and then felt bad for yelling at him.

“Oh, by the way. Skul and Val will come visit next week. There are important matters to discuss, but Skul wasn’t ready to talk about them yet.”

“And are YOU ready to talk to him in a week ?”, Ghastly asked.

“I do think I am !”

Anton and Ghastly gave him a serious look over and after a while of tense silence they nodded.

“Fine by me.”, Anton said.

“Alright then.”, Ghastly agreed.

Erskin breathed out in relief.

“But the rest of the Dead Men are coming to visit too, no buts.”, Anton stated.

Erskin’s jaw dropped open.

“Ugh ! Fine you two !”, he then yelled playfully frustrated.

“Admit it, you love us !”, Ghastly teased.

“You’re lucky that I see you as my Family. Otherwise I would have smacked the shit out of you two.”, Erskin said grumpily.

“We feel honored.”, Ghastly said with a hand on his chest.

“Very honored.”, Anton agreed.

Erskin pouted and flopped down in his bed. Anton and Ghastly joined him in a big cuddle.

“Night, little Brother.”, Ghastly told Erskin.

“Night you two big dummies.”, he replied.

“Ouch...our little Brother doesn’t like us, Ghastly.”, Anton informed the other with a fake sad voice.

Erskin smiled and playfully rolled his eyes. He hugged them both back.

“You two can be so stupid sometimes. But that is what I love about you two. Good night.”

Ghastly and Anton smiled and fell asleep with Erskin. They already planned to tease the living shit, out of Erskin, the next day.

-Next day-

-With Valkyrie-

She just woke up and looked at her phone again, still nothing. She started to get really worried now. She got up from her bed and started to dress herself up, then she went into the bathroom and got ready for the day. Her parents were out with Allison and her reflection was in school.

She just entered her room again as her phone rang. She sprinted to it and was happy to see that it was Skulduggery who called her. She picked up.

“Skulduggery ?! Are you okay ?!”, she instantly yelled.

“Hello to you too, Valkyrie. I am better than I have been the last two to three nights, thank you for asking.”

“Did you kill China ?”

“No. Why waste my time with that ?”

“Okay. Where is the body ?”, she asked, not believing him.

He chuckled and hung up. She stared at her phone with big eyes.

‘Did he just hang up on me ?!’

Then the window knocked and she saw Skulduggery in her window. She rolled her eyes, but smiled brightly. She opened the window, letting him in.

“I apologize, but I wanted to surprise visit you.”, he said.

“You big goof !”, she laughed.

He chuckled softly and then there was silence for a minute.

“I really didn’t kill anyone. But I had a surprise visit yesterday night. He also asked me to ask you to not smack him.”

“Who visited you, Skul ?”, she asked.

“It was Erskin. After you told him about me and being unresponsive, he appeared right at my front door.”

She looked at him shocked.

“He told me that he won’t be ready to see you until after a month ! What a lying asshole !”

“He wasn’t lying, Valkyrie.”

She glared at him, ready to protest, but he lifted his finger asking her to let him finish. She shut her mouth.

“He only came to check on me, because it is an urge he can’t control. He was probably panicking on the inside. He used his soul vision on me to see my expressions, so he knows if he is in danger or not. We had a small chat that cheered me up and he said we could meet next week. I didn’t tell him everything, just that China had a part in killing my family off and that she was there when they were killed. We both needed a clearer head for the rest. He was ready to kill China.”

She stared at him with wide eyes of shock.

“Okay...do we have to book a room then ?”, she asked.

“I think Anton already did. He will tell me when we can come over any second, I bet.”

And as if he knew, his phone rang. He pulled it out and it was indeed Anton Shudder. He picked up and put him on speaker.

“Hello, Anton.”

“Skulduggery. I booked you and Valkyrie a room that has two beds. You can have it Monday to Friday. If I find out that you hurt Erskin, I will personally ban you from my Hotel and never speak with you again. We both know how easily you can get violent. That is the last thing Erskin needs right now.”, Anton replied.

Valkyrie felt bad for Skulduggery. His own friends don’t trust him around Erskin, but at the same time she understood why. They were very close once and suddenly Skulduggery, without meaning to, only hurt and destroyed Erskin.

“I am not planning to hurt him, but sure. You can ban me if I lose control. Thank you for letting us know about the room booking. We will see to it that everything is packed in 5 days.”

“Sure. Until then, you two.”

With that Anton hung up. Skulduggery hung up too and sighed.

“It hurts you, that they don’t trust you, with Erskin being alone in a room with you, does it ?”, she asked softly.

“They have every reason to not trust me. I was very stupid as I came back from the dead. Worst is, I never realized it. I will have to prove myself to them, so I gain their trust again and that is just fine with me.”

“Now what are we going to do ?”, she asked.

“Take a break, pack our stuff and wait until Monday.”

“No cases ?”

“We don’t have any.”

She nodded softly at that. Then she hugged Skulduggery, who stiffened up.

“What is the hug for ?”, he asked.

“To comfort you and to show you that I am here for you.”, Valkyrie answered.

He hugged her back.

“Ha, Erskin said almost something like that. Said, that I should open up more again, at least to my friends. They might be able to help me to stabilize a bit better.”

Valkyrie smiled.

“Very true and wise words from him. Sad, that he doesn’t use these advices himself.”, she stated.

“He only hides away because I scared him off. I was the calmest, hard to anger, less violent person of The Dead Men, when I was still alive. He trusted me with everything he was ready to tell me about. I was the first one to know that he had abusive people around him, but he only said that it was his own parents when he was with us for 2 years already, so when he was 19 years of age. He told us about his biological Father, which was only that he had one and never met him. He never really went into detail how bad his family was, but to be honest, I think it would have made my blood boil.”

She nodded in understanding.

“He never mentioned names, was never ready to do that. He told us that he was forced to know about magic since he was three years of age and had no choice but to be here. He hid his emotions at first but he opened up to me more. I pretty much helped him to be open about himself with the rest of the Dead Men and my family. It was hard to get him to talk at first.”

“When did you meet him ?”

“When he was 11 years of age. My Son...found him. He brought him to me. He had no trouble to talk with him, but he didn’t like talking to adults. My Son had to make him warm up to me.”

“And he only came three times to see you all ?”

“I mean he stayed for a few days with us, but yes. The longest he stayed with my family was 2 months. And he only stayed, because it was raining, cold and muddy outside. The weather was really crazy those two months. My Son didn’t want him to get sick and I felt responsible for Erskin, so I let him in, fed him, cared for him, washed him and got him his own room. He mostly rather stayed with my Son, but I did catch him a few times in his own room. I guess he did need some space from everyone from time to time.”

She gave him a look.

“What ?”

“How did he get so attached to you if he was only there three times ?”

“He was with my FAMILY only three times. He told me where to usually find him and we met up often. I was pretty much his therapist and mentor. He needed my help, but was too afraid to ask for it, so I offered him my help. He instantly accepted and since then we built up a bond. It got very strong and he was almost ready to tell me everything...then the war started.”

“The war that you didn’t want Erskin to join with 16 years of age.”, she added.

Skulduggery nodded.

“Yes. I was afraid that he would lose his life. I admit it felt like he was my second Son. When he was 12 years of age, his magic was out of control and he was scared what he would do. That was the time I slowly tried to teach him how to control it. He HAD elemental Magic after all, it was easy to teach him something I had myself. When he was 14 years of age, he could control it without troubles and then we started to build up trust, so he can talk to me whenever he needs to. It took me a whole year and six months until he finally deemed me trustworthy enough. I helped him with a lot of issues I found out he had and he was almost ready to tell me things, he would have thought he would take to his grave, when he became 16 years of age. But then the war started and he wanted to join so badly, that I had to give in. It was very important to him and I didn’t want to destroy him by locking him away.”

She just stared and listened.

“You should have seen his desperation. There was no changing his mind. I warned him and he said he can deal with it. I knew he wouldn’t, but I let him join. I took him everywhere with me and started to train him to fight and use his magic against people. He was strong and a fast learner. When we were in the war for 5 months, we met the rest of our Team. One after the other and we pretty much fought side by side, I made friends with them all and as we took our first suicide mission, I saw that Erskin liked Ghastly instantly. I was friends with him before already, but he never met him then. I thought the scars would scare him off, but he liked them. Even complimented Ghastly about them.”

“Who was the hardest, Erskin had to get along with, from the Dead Men ?”

“Surprisingly it was Anton Shudder. He was a bit blunt and rough with his words. He didn’t like physical affection much and he mostly frowned. He took things very serious. He wasn’t as playful as the rest. Erskine, Hopeless and Saracen tried their best to always give Erskin a smile, when he looked at them, to assure him that he did nothing wrong. Ghastly and I always fooled around with him when he needed it, Dexter was always acting like an idiot to make him laugh and Anton...had a hard time to adjust. He needed a while to warm up to Erskin. He thought he was acting childish, but when I explained his situation to everyone, via Erskin’s permission, he understood why he acted the way he did and he tried very hard to show emotion and be a bit more careful with his words. Erskin always treasured his birthdays with us the most. He liked Anton’s hugs, even though they were rare and he hated hugging people. Erskin was an exception.”, Skulduggery told her with a chuckle.

She smiled at that.

“After my death...I think that was when it finally sunk into Anton’s head, that Erskin was still a child and that he needed someone to look after him. His outburst in the woods, after I was burned, must have opened his eyes. As Ghastly said, he and Anton played the Mother hen, after my death. Anton was still a bit...cold and rough with Erskin, but after I was gone, he seemed to finally get that his behavior still didn’t help Erskin. Anton did a 180 degree turn from when we met to now. I am thankful that they took care of him when I couldn’t. And I am happy that Erskin grew close with the rest. But it doesn’t change the fact that he was ready to tell me things he would have never told anyone else, only for me to change so much that I broke him.”

Valkyrie frowned saddened.

“I was planning to adopt Erskin after the war, when I was alive. I don’t know why I changed so suddenly, but...I totally forgot about that part when I came back. I don’t think I can repair the damage I caused him in the war. I doubt he will tell me anything ever again. Lord Vile was right.”

She perked up at that statement.

“About what was he right ?”, she asked.

“After my return from the dead, I forgot about Erskin. I just...I FORGOT about him, Valkyrie. Like the time didn’t matter that I spent with him, even though it did matter to me. I forgot that he was...that I treated him like one of my own children. I forgot our bond. I forgot about everything. All I knew was war, rage and revenge.”

Valkyrie stared at Skulduggery as he spilled it out. So Lord Vile told him that he stopped caring. She was shocked that Skulduggery admitted to it and that he was very devastated about it, but she was more curious as to why Lord Vile made him feel guilt for killing innocent people. Was it because of Erskin ? What was Vile’s reason ?

She hugged Skulduggery again, tighter this time. He hugged her back.

“I made him suicidal...”, Skulduggery whispered in utter guilt.

Valkyrie froze, eyes wide open in shock.

‘What ?’

Masterlist HERE !

#read warnings above #derek landy #Skulduggery Pleasant x Reader Universe #male!reader #erskin is male!reader #valkyrie cain #my au #not the canon au #The Dead Men #skulduggery pleasant #anton shudder #saracen rue #erskine ravel #ghastly bespoke #Dexter Vex

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chosenmango4233 · 4 months

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I have been putting off sharing this weird dream I had last year.. The strange specific nature of it, and the power of my subconscious associations, I was really caught off guard with this one.

A smidge of context, I don't dream very frequently, maybe once every few months. I have aphantasia, so it's normally kinda just empty in there day to day. I also have a fairly poor memory, so my brain tends to create echos of my day to make weird hyper specific bundles of activities sourced from recent tasks. This was not a mundane remix though, no, this was something wild, and it's sources proven to withstand my internal trashcan. So enjoy this core memory of mine.

This dream starts at a party. On the surface, just a casual gathering in a building that is half bar, half vet, with a line of people with exclusively pet birds. Couldn't tell you why these buildings were combined or why there were only birds. However, fitting the usual dream criteria, one could shrug and move on. I also feel I should mention I'm not usually in my dreams, they're rarely even in first person. Usually I'm observing through a camera, like I'm watching a movie. So right away, things were getting sus when I was actually attending this dream.

A normal enough, mundane party, everyone was human people, I didn't know anyone, except for two strangers who played the role of my friends for this dream. We sat in a corner of a spa like fountain room, resting away from all the conversational extroverts in the actual bar. My two 'friends' sat in the corner of a room length booth seat, and I was sitting cross legged in a 6" deep pool of water. After a few minutes I joined them on the booth, just as two more people arrived. Two people in my waking life who I knew, who I hadn't talked to since I was in school years ago.

They joined us and we had a conversation, I can skip the personal details, but this was strangely healing. This was the first moment that broke the pattern of my weirdness in dreams, and even the me in the dream was picking up on it. But I can at least trace the source, talking with them about past events, catching up, wishing we had been better friends and getting that closure, people who were on my mind in real life at the time, makes sense to appear here. Helping me move past that in a dream, makes sense, right? A nice calm chat to sooth an old wound, all nice and normal. More emotional than I expected for the regular dream cycle, but fair enough. Now you may think these were the only oddities and be wondering why this post is tagged the way it is. Well. This emotional bonding session was mearly the appetizer of the main course for this freakshow about to unfold.

The next person to arrive, was Grimm. Y'know, the character from Hollow Knight. Not in any human form, just exactly in game but around real life people. Hand animated and all. A bit jarring looking back but I and the party goers remained unphased. I was hyperfixating on hollow knight at the time, and no surprise have been for a while, so sure. Whatever. Let this be my first and only hk related dream since. Now for the next layer to peel back.

The second none human creature arrives. Again, exactly in the style of which he is drawn in, anime and all paired against real people.

Sebastian. Fuckin' Michalis. From black butler. A show mind you, I watched twice, almost a decade ago, of which I haven't thought about in an equal period of time and have completely forgotten about until this dream because again, VERY. POOR. MEMORY. Such a thing allows me to live in bliss when my passions fade, and I can easily move on as if I was never invested in the first place. A bittersweet thing that completely buried this show. A show that wasn't even that important to me at the time, so. My brain dug deep, deep down in the abyss of lost years for that one, and I'm still shocked by the appearance.

This would have been uncomfy enough. But no, under the disguise, the sheeth of emotional support therapy to let go of the past... At the same fuckin' time I had to watch Sebastian fuckin' michalis in all his anime glory and this bug ass dreamlord lock eyes at a party. Like an early 2000s film they locked eyes from across the room and immediately separated from their respective groups and met up in an isolated corner. Again, I can't state this enough, everything else was normal, normal looking human people, standard ass party gazebo and spa pet store blend. "NORMAL ENOUGH." AND YET. THESE BROS IMMEDIATELY STARTED TALKING.

These chads who according to my subconscious would work together well visually and vibe wise chatted each other up for maybe a minute before leaving this party together. Swiftly, exchanging very suave lines left this party and all I could do was watch them walk away, my jaw on the floor in awe as even in this dream I was confused. Like I had in real time just witnessed a wattpad fanfic trope come to life and play out as if it was completely normal. And in this dream world I was the only one to notice.

Cut to 15 minutes later and they rejoin the party and no one adddress a damn thing, and I wake up. Left to ponder the details of how well they would get along and fail to find the source of that weird dynamic. WHY. WHERE?? WHO WHISPERED IN MY EAR WHILE I SLEPT. WHY MUST I FEAR STUMBLING ON ART FOR THEM TOGETHER IN A CURSED COITUS. I'm just glad my aroace ass spared me a sex scene, even my subconscious is willing to respect some of my boundaries 😭

I still don't know what caused such a hyper specific sequence of events, I don't even go to parties, or see birds on a daily. I hadn't thought about black butler for years like. Why. 😭 Why all these uncommon, unrelated things all merged together? It's so out of place for my basic bitch dreams 😭😭

#im still at a loss for words #like i can normally place the source material for my dreams in my wakings life #but like this one hit different in a way i cant articulate enough #text #long post #ish #dreams #hollow knight #hollow knight grimm #grimm #black butler #black butler sebastian #sebastion #hk grimm #bb sebastion

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theres-a-goldensky · 3 years

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30 More The Untamed Fic Recs

Here we go again. Another Wangxian rec list. Are you bored of me yet?

Were these recs helpful to you? If so, you can check out my other Wangxian rec posts:

Part 1 - 40 recs

Part 2 - 23 recs

Part 3 - 23 recs

As ever, feel free to reblog.

You can also head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

(All recs are complete) (I’ve noted pairings, length, and rating, but not any warnings or additional tags.)

** denotes personal favorite

1. say it's here where our pieces fall in place by Lirelyn - ~69,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Lan Zhan meets Wei Wuxian after he adopts a small A-Yuan, because Wei Wuxian also has a past with him. Lots of adorable family feelings and emotional hurt/comfort.

As often happened, Wei Ying’s voice preceded his entrance, calling to his co-worker through the open door, “Frankie, they forgot to order spoons again, can you hold down the fort a little longer while I —”

Lan Wangji was already looking to his entrance, head turning as if magnetized toward the voice, so he saw the moment when Wei Ying’s eyes landed on A-Yuan and the smile fell from his face. He looked stricken, and Lan Wangji immediately looked to his son in alarm. A-Yuan seemed fine. His small eyebrows were pulled together in a small frown as he looked back at Wei Ying, but that wasn’t surprising, given the expression on Wei Ying’s face. Lan Wangji had seen that face beaming, laughing, whining, wheedling, and occasionally angry, but never like this. He looked blank and hollow and it stirred something fierce in Lan Wangji: he wanted to rise up and obliterate whatever was making him look like that. Then his eyes lifted to Lan Wangji and there was a flash of something almost like betrayal, before he pressed his lips together and turned his back.

“I’m going to run out to the store and get spoons,” he said in a flat voice to his co-worker, and left without looking their way again.

2. the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by sunsandships - ~41,000 words, mature - This is an AU of the novel where Wei Wuxian puts two and two together when Lan Zhan sneaks that kiss from him. It changes a lot of things.

Against his own will, Wei Wuxian found himself glancing at Lan Wangji’s hands. They were… certainly large enough that one of them could wrap around both of his wrists. And Lan Wangji was certainly strong enough, tall enough, broad-shouldered enough to bodily pin him against the trunk of a tree with no chance of him breaking free. Lan Wangji was the first person he’d come across in his slow comb through the vicinity of where he’d been so headily kissed.

Wei Wuxian drew a sharp breath. There was a connection to be made here. He didn’t think he was crazy enough to make it. Perhaps he truly was going slightly insane with demonic cultivation if he could believe Lan Wangji, the paragon of virtue and respectability, who lived unflinchingly under Gusu Lan’s three thousand edicts, who had at best only tolerated his presence as children, would sneak up to him while he was blindfolded, pin him against a tree, and steal a kiss from him in broad daylight.

3. and his wanting grows teeth by yukla - ~25,000 words, teen - This is a very interesting AU where Lan Zhan is a traveling cultivator and runs into Wei Wuxian and the Jiangs looking for shelter during a snowstorm. No spoilers, but this fic goes to a pretty dark place that genuinely shocked me, but I enjoyed. (Still ends well though.)

Without further ado, they are hustled past the entrance and into a smaller greeting area. Huang-bobo approaches the brazier in the center with his hands outstretched, warming his fingers in the heat, but Lan Wangji hangs back. As he carefully brushes the snow free from his shoulders, he feels the burn of a curious gaze trailing up and down his body, lingering at the guqin still strapped to his back; when the sensation pauses at his face and stays there, he lifts his head.

The boy with the ribbon lights up at the eye contact, flashes another dazzling smile, and gives a little wave.

“You must be new here,” he whispers, something like laughter threaded into his voice, eyes scrunching into winking half-moons. “All dressed up in white like that! You might lose yourself in the snowstorm!”

Something stirs to life in Lan Wangji’s chest. It’s—uncomfortable, he decides, and so he steps away. Teasing should not be encouraged with a response.

4. Ghosts Shouldn't by ShanaStoryteller - ~15,000 words, not rated - After Wei Ying's death, his spirit seems to linger. The story is told from Lan Xichen's point of view. I love an outsider point of view. I also love the way the author fleshes out his character as well.

Lan Xichen means to force his way inside, angry ghost of the Yiling Patriarch or no, but then his brother lets out slow breath, settling, the pain easing from his face as he falls back into a more peaceful sleep.

His hair is moving on its own, so subtly Lan Xichen might not have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking at Wangji so intently. It’s like someone’s running their hand through his hair.

The window frosts over suddenly, thick enough that he can’t see through it. Anxiety spikes through him so quickly he’s nauseous with it, but then the frost melts away and the opening notes of Healing start up again.

He can’t tell if it’s a warning or not. Maybe it’s just an acknowledgement. Wei Wuxian knows he’s there.

5. **leading tone by silencemostofall - ~32,000 words, general - This is a modern AU set in a world where people who love you leave a mark of color on you the first time you touch. Wei Wuxian has no color on him. So much emotional hurt/comfort. So much of Wei Wuxian's terrible self-esteem.

He can cover up his palms with his gloves, so that the blankness does not draw stares. But he has no marks on his fingertips, which he cannot easily hide, and none visible on his face or neck, the blankness of which is even more difficult to hide. People look at him and, with a single glance, understand the single most devastating truth that he knows about himself.

They assume that he does not have very many marks. He may be an eccentric, dramatic person, but the likelihood that an individual has all of their marks on, say, their feet or their torso or other places that are not immediately obvious-- that probability goes down as your number of marks increases. He can laugh as much as he wants about how he loves touching people for the first time with odd places, like the knee or the elbow, but it doesn't quite mask the feeling of other that he knows he exudes.

They assume that he does not have a lot of marks. This, while a heavy weight, is not unbearably so. It is okay that they think he is not much loved. It chafes a bit, and feels occasionally like something he has to furiously push down within himself, but it is not unbearable. What would be unbearable is if they knew the truth: that he does not just have very few marks, but none. That he is simply an individual who is not loved at all.

6. **pastel by antebunny - ~7,000 words, gen - This is a remix work of the above fic. It's from Lan Zhan's point of view and just different enough to be interesting. Still lots of emotional hurt/comfort. I love this concept a whole lot, and both of these fics are great.

It’s a simmering day in May, and Wei Ying is wearing long sleeves, long pants, and gloves.

His choice of dress isn’t unusual for many reasons. For one, there’s plenty of people who don’t like strangers seeing their soulmarks. There’s plenty of people who wish to keep them private by covering them up. For another, Wei Ying spends most of his day in various chilly computer science department rooms, He could just be wearing long sleeves for that.

7. one good thing by Yuu_chi - ~27,000 words, teen - Wei Wuxian has died (or did he??) and is haunting his old home. Lan Zhan moves in. This story has a happy ending! And so much yearning!

To the flowers struggling to grow on the other side of the glass, he says, “We’re getting a new roommate. Well, I’m getting a new roommate - you’re getting somebody who might actually be able to water you for a change.” The flowers outside sway a little in the breeze, and Wei Wuxian nods contemplatively. “He can’t be any worse than the last guy who lived here. Remember when I spooked him while he was cooking and he nearly burnt the house down? Of course you don’t. You’re fucking foliage, your memory is worse than mine. I remember though, so it’s cool.”

There’s the sound of shuffling behind him and Wei Wuxian looks up to see the stranger has entered the kitchen, setting the last of the boxes down on the table. Disgustingly neat handwriting declares the box kitchen - homeware. The stranger carefully brushes his hair back from his face and, without so much as a second of hesitation, cracks open the box and begins unpacking.

“Wow, you really don’t waste any time, do you?” Wei Wuxian marvels. “You literally just got here - who cares about unpacking? Sit down for a moment, breathe, have something to eat. It’s not going anywhere.”

8. with you, I am home by tellthemstories - ~47,000 words, mature - Modern AU where Wei Wuxian is being forced to return home to entertain marriage proposals. So naturally instead he "convinces" Lan Zhan to pretend to date him. I love a good fake dating fic, and this one hits all the right beats.

Lan Zhan does that almost-smile thing that Wei Wuxian takes to mean he’s happy, or at the very least not-mad. “You don’t have any money.”

“Not true. I have the money from our last job, when we settled the vengeful spirit for the flower shop girl.” (He doesn’t. They have Lan Zhan’s money. Wei Wuxian spent his on a pack of loquats and three bottles of Emperor’s Smile wine.)

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian says. “Do it for me.”

Thinking back on it two weeks later, standing alone in the middle of Jin Ling’s graduation banquet and watching Lan Zhan walk away from him, Wei Wuxian realises that this, this was the moment when he should have known. He should have realised in the way Lan Zhan doesn’t hesitate or negotiate and just says with that half-fond, half-exasperated tone he gets sometimes, “Fine.”

9. and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen - ~11,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Wei Ying can't find Lan Zhan, but hey, there happens to be a rabbit here instead. Features a very slow Wei Ying, emotional hurt/comfort and accidental love confessions.

Immediately, his heart settles and he grins down at his new friend. “Oh, hello there,” he coos, reaching out to pet the fluffy ears. The bunny is very, very still under his hand.

“Did Lan Zhan bring you today?,” he continues cooing. “I’m sorry I missed that, but your Dad didn’t tell me he was bringing you.”

Lan Zhan rarely brings his rabbits to work since they are as tolerant of crowds and unnecessary noise as he is. They were probably relevant to today’s lesson but…

Wei Ying frowns. “Why would he leave you alone? And where is your cage?”

10. how, or when, or from where by sarahyyy - ~10,000 words, gen - Wei Ying wakes up in the hospital with amnesia and can't remember the last few years of his life, including his best friend and the guy he's in love with.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes so hard Wei Wuxian is surprised his eyeballs don’t just fall out of his eye sockets. “That’s the worst part. He did. Whatever mating ritual you both have going on is so fucking weird, Wei Wuxian.” He snorts. “If you’d stayed asleep for any longer, I’d have lost my shit and thrown my myself out a window just so I wouldn’t have to talk to Lan Wangji again.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. “Is this a good time to ask who Lan Wangji is?”

Jiang Cheng glares at him. “Your Lan Zhan,” he says, annoyed. Wei Wuxian must look as confused as he feels, because Jiang Cheng’s annoyance bleeds out into concern. “Your Lan er-gege? Your soulmate, Lan Wangji?”

Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “No bells are ringing.”

11. ** a shared plate by yukla - ~26,000 words, teen - This is an absolutely gorgeous fic about Wei Wuxian traveling the world post-canon to rediscover himself and restore his faith in humanity and eventually find his way back to Lan Zhan. The whole thing is great, but the last two chapters are just *chef's kiss*

Lan Zhan,

Just as the mountains stand unchanging and the green rivers flow ceaselessly, we will meet again — and between then and now, you cannot hope to avoid my letters, either! Haha! Lan Zhan, I’ve seen so many things and met so many people, and it’s only been a month!

I miss you already

It’s so hot that I find myself missing the wind in Gusu’s mountains. Your poor Wei Ying is I’m melting away, Lan Zhan...

I’m realizing now, sixteen years is a long time to be away — the world is vast, and quite a bit different than I remembered. And in sixteen years, a child can also grow up into a man! It’s your job to catch me up on A-Yuan’s fun childhood stories! I do remember hearing something about a pile of rabbits...

12. with your arms outstretched to me by annemari - ~14,000 words, teen - Lan Zhan finally gets up the nerve to ask Wei Ying on a date, but things don't go as expected. Features emotional hurt/comfort (are we sensing a theme with these recs??) and just regular hurt/comfort.

"Oh, man, I was hoping you had some water with you," Wei Ying says. "I totally forgot to bring any for myself. Stupid of me."

"There is enough for both of us," Lan Wangji says. He has another bigger bottle in the car, as well.

Wei Ying hums but he only takes a few sips. He presses it back into Lan Wangji's hand. "I don't need any more."

Lan Wangji is considering arguing, but then Wei Ying shifts a bit, moving his ankle, and gasps very, very quietly.

13. ** A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps by hansbekhart - ~22,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian has finished traveling and returned to the Cloud Recesses and Lan Zhan. But their lives never do run smoothly.

“Lan Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, recognizing him after a moment. His heart slams against his rib cage. “Where is Lan Zhan? What’s happened?”

Lan Jingyi flaps a hand at him, gulping air. Wei Wuxian hands him the water, and leans back against Little Apple’s side as he waits impatiently for the boy to get his breath back.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Jingyi gasps, just as Wei Wuxian is about to throttle a proper answer out of him. “Hanguang Jun was in such a state when he woke up, we didn’t know if you’d come and gone already.”

“Where is he, Jingyi,” Wei Wuxian says, as evenly as he can. “What happened?”

14. So Why Not Crack Your Skull When the Mind Swells by greenteafiend - ~14,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel extraordinary pain unless he's touching Lan Zhan. Yet more of Wei Wuxian's self-esteem issues and Lan Zhan's steadfast devotion.

“Are you hurt, Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asks, pressing his hand to Wei Ying’s forehead to feel his temperature. There is no fever, but that doesn’t do much to mitigate Lan Wangji’s worries.

“No—I’m not hurt,” says Wei Ying, sagging forward to lean his weight into Lan Wangji’s hand like he can’t help himself.

It’s so strange—Lan Wangji can feel what Wei Ying is feeling. Although the relief is still very profound, wisps of other things are making themselves known; happiness; wistfulness; guilt. It’s all so fleeting that Lan Wangji can’t even begin to deduce what has provoked those feelings, but he wishes he knew their source.

15. puzzle pieces by Anonymous - ~6,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are roommates, and Wei Ying has started borrowing Lan Zhan's clothes.

“Hm? Oh.” With sleepy eyes that does— things to Lan Zhan’s heart, he blinks and tugs at the lower hem of the shirt, which is riding just above the curve of his thighs. Does Lan Zhan’s mouth water? Maybe. Yes. Absolutely. “Ah, yeah, sorry. Laundry day caught up to me before I could catch up with it. I saw this shirt left in the washer a few days ago, and—“ He blinks up at Lan Zhan through dark eyelashes that Lan Zhan wants to kiss, maybe, and gives him an uncharacteristically hesitant smile. “Do you mind?”

I mind the fact that we are not married, Lan Zhan thinks. But he can’t say that, and his tongue doesn’t know how to say anything else. So he stays silent.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says after a moment. “If you—oh, damn, I should’ve known, this is like real silk, must’ve been super expensive. Fuck. Okay, here, uh, I’ll take it off—“

16. ** Nothing But Trouble by brooklinegirl - ~60,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Wei Ying is trying to be a good brother and get Jiang Cheng laid. Somehow this plan involves pretending to date Lan Zhan.

"I won't!" Wei Ying insists. "I'll ask out someone...high stakes. I'll find someone. I'll...okay, how's this? I swear that I'll ask someone out and keep at it for at least two dates."

"No."

"Three dates."

"Nope."

"Okay, okay, five. That's fair! That's more than fair! One person, five dates." He points at Jiang Cheng. "You have to do it, too. That's how a pact works."

Jiang Cheng stares at him. "Five dates," he says flatly. "Five. And yours can't be Nie Huaisang."

17. i'm the one for your fire by occultings (microcomets) - ~43,000 words, explicit - This is a Modern AU and a Cherry Magic AU! (Side note: GO WATCH CHERRY MAGIC IF YOU HAVEN'T.) But in short, Wei Ying turns 30 without losing his virginity and gets the power to hear people's thoughts when he touches them. He gets more than he bargained for with Lan Zhan. The author does a good job of translating the story to these characters. Wei Ying is not forced to be like Adachi, the main character of Cherry Magic. He's still himself, and the same goes for Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan’s voice is so clear, so sudden that it’s as though it’s spoken, the slice of a sharp object through velvet.

He’s touching me.

Wei Ying startles for a moment, wonders if he’d somehow heard his own thoughts instead, but — no, that had definitely been Lan Zhan’s steady, factual baritone, loud and clear.

God, this is still so weird. It still doesn’t seem totally real. But how else can he account for hearing Lan Zhan’s voice in his head, as clearly as if he’d spoken to Wei Ying directly?

18. like blue flame over my fingertips by tangerinechar - ~37,000 words, teen - Modern AU where Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are roommates, and Lan Zhan just finds himself wanting to take care of Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji’s roommate. Is a problem.

He doesn’t get an answer to the roommate problem until the next morning, when Lan Xichen texts him telling him that the apartment he’d suggested (and helped pay rent for) to Lan Wangji said in the small text that it’d be two people per apartment, the second bedroom wasn’t actually a guest bedroom, sorry, Wangji, you can move in with me if you want, I have space —

No. Thank you for your kind offer, Brother, but I will be quite fine, Lan Wangji texts back.

19. ** some impulse of delight by handclaps - ~20,000 words, explicit - College AU where Wei Ying decides he needs to help Lan Zhan get used to touching people. Lan Zhan agrees. Wei Ying is dumb and in love. Lan Zhan is less dumb, but still as in love.

Lan Zhan shakes his head and fumbles, tries to push the cotton wool into Wei Wuxian’s hand.

“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian says, realising. “Touching people, I know.”

He feels dumb. He thought he’d worn Lan Zhan down more than this, that they were friends now and that his whole no touching thing was mostly overcome. He took Wei Wuxian’s hand easily, right? He looks down at his belly full of scratches, dabbing at them moodily.

“Sorry,” he says, again.

Lan Zhan makes some kind of noise, but he is busy packing the first aid kit back, placing everything exactly where it was before.

“Lan Zhan, you’re going to have to do something about this,” Wei Wuxian complains. “I know you don’t like touching people and usually it plays as a kind of gentlemanly thing, but what about emergencies?”

20. And I Will Call You Home by Spodumene - ~43,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian returns after a year of traveling and rejoins Lan Zhan in the Cloud Recesses. He's doing a good job of pining and ignoring the obvious. Look, at this point, it shouldn't be a surprise that I'm a sucker for stories where Wei Wuxian deals with his ~*~issues~*~ and Lan Zhan takes care of him, whether he asks for it or not. This story has lots of that. I also enjoyed the case fic aspect of it.

“I do, I think,” Wei Wuxian admits. “Would be nice to see his face again after so long. And at least this time, I’m going to show up draped in finery. What do you think, Lan Zhan? I can’t possibly disgrace him—or you—wearing a cloak like that.”

“You could never disgrace me,” Lan Wangji says gently, that soft, affectionate look back on his face.

Wei Wuxian grins, warmed to the tips of his toes.

“I’ll remind you of that later. The next time I’m three jars deep and feeling especially shameless, you’ll have to remember those words, Lan Er-gege.”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says simply.

Wei Wuxian smiles some more, overwhelmed by fondness.

21. darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter - ~7,000 words, explicit - Wei Wuxian really, really wants Lan Zhan to call him 'gege'. Lan Zhan knows a trump card when he sees one.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

Lan Wangji knows he will not stop, regardless of what he calls him. Still, he thinks about it. If there really is a way to make Wei Wuxian stop, should he not consider it? He doesn’t have any real interest in curbing his husband’s insatiable mischievousness, but he does like knowing things about him—everything there is to know.

If there’s something that persuasive in the world, that it can bring Wei Wuxian into submission when no one is under threat, could he stop himself from seeking it?

22. your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian - ~11,000 words, gen - Wei Wuxian & Lan Sizhui fic with the Wangxian in the background. Lan Sizhui wants another dad and Wei Wuxian wants a son, they just don't know how to explain that to each other.

“Hush,” Wei Wuxian says, in a low croon, like someone quieting a baby. Then he blinks, and looks away, awkward. “I mean—you shouldn’t speak. You’re tired. Rest if you need to.”

Lan Sizhui tucks his chin into his uncle’s shoulder, and lets his eyes fall closed.

“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?” Wen Ning whispers to him kindly.

Lan Sizhui takes a deep breath, and takes stock of all his aches, his ringing ear, his hollow chest, the way he had selfishly wanted Wei Wuxian to keep speaking to him in that careful voice, like he was just a child to be soothed and there was no real danger. How dangerous, to pretend. “No,” he lies. “It doesn’t hurt that much at all.”

23. when you're doing all the leaving (then it's never your love lost) by tardigradeschool - ~26,000 words, teen - AU where Lan Zhan with Wei Wuxian to Jin Ling's one-month celebration. Things go down, and it leads to Lan Zhan discovering Wei Wuxian's missing golden core. This obviously will not do, and oh look, the best doctor in the world just happens to be right here.

“How—“ Lan Wangji chokes. “His core —?” He looks at Wen Ning, half accusatory in his shock. “Jin Zixun could not have—“

“No, no!” Wen Ning says, holding out his hands. “He hasn’t had one for years, don’t worry!”

This is not as reassuring as Wen Ning seems to think.

“Please explain,” Lan Wangji says, pained. He feels for Wei Wuxian’s pulse instead; in the absence of a golden core, it will have to do as reassurance that he’s still alive.

Wen Ning is so anxious that the story comes out in a ramble, out of order. Lan Wangji wants him to hurry up, but he’s also not confident in his own ability to speak, so he just keeps quiet and lets him talk. His heart feels as if it’s about to fall from his chest, beating nearly twice as fast as Wei Wuxian’s does under his fingers.

24. A Match in the Making by lareine - ~30,000 words, teen - A Modern AU where Wei Wuxian sees his single and bad ass friend Lan Zhan and his single and bad ass friend Mianmian and gets some very dumb ideas.

To return to the point: Lan Zhan was peak adulting. Mianmian was peak adulting. And if they were both at the peak, then they were on the same level. What level? That mysterious level thing that everyone mentioned when it came to dating.

Whatever level it was, Lan Zhan and Mianmian were on it together. Wei Ying nodded to himself. So, Lan Zhan and Mianmian were allowed to date each other. The next question was: were they compatible? Did they have chemistry or whatever the fuck people called it?

25. Crack me open, pour you out by Tenillypo - ~16,000 words, explicit - Lan Zhan gets cursed to say whatever he's thinking. So his worst nightmare. Mutual pining, first time, all good stuff.

Lan Wangji freezes with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, lifting his eyes to stare at Wei Ying.

"I know! Just completely paralyzed." Wei Ying mimes being still as a board. "I don't know how long I lay there. It must have been two days at least. Good thing for Little Apple. He wandered back to the village when he got hungry, and eventually a few of them got brave enough to come look for me. When they rolled me over, the figure fell out of my hand and I could move again. Cunning little thing." He shakes his head. "I was weak as a kitten for a little while after they took me back to the village, and by the time I recovered, they'd burned the whole place to the ground. Such a waste."

Lan Wangji slowly lowers his chopsticks, heart racing unpleasantly. In his head, a picture of Wei Ying slowly wasting to death alone in the middle of the woods, with Lan Wangji a hundred miles away and none the wiser.

26. Crazy, Rich Cultivators by ShanaStoryteller - 13,000 words, no rating - Lan Zhan wants to bring his boyfriend home to meet his family. There are some things he definitely didn't realize about Wei Ying.

“He has a life here,” he says down the line. He doesn’t say that he has a life here too, one he likes a lot more than the one he had before. He misses home. He’d miss Wei Ying more. But he doesn’t say that, doesn’t say how vibrant he is and how beautiful and how little interest Lan Zhan has at seeing him among the high society he grew up with.

“Well, your life is here, Wangji,” his brother says. “You can’t stay away from home forever. You’re going to have to see how he does with the rest of us sooner or later. It might as well be sooner.”

It might as well be never, as far as he’s concerned. His family can meet Wei Ying at their wedding.

“I’ll ask,” he says.

Wei Ying has no interest in cultivation politics. They’re horrible, the five clans have an iron tight alliance that’s thirty seconds away from collapsing in on itself the moment someone from one sect steps on another sect’s toes. It’s the worst and he hates it. Surely even just the idea of it will be so horrifying to Wei Ying that Lan Zhan will be able to tell his brother no.

27. just our hands clasped so tight by electrum ~4,000 words, teen - Lan Zhan really, really, really just wants to give Wei Ying everything he wants.

“Despite your best efforts,” Wei Wuxian agrees. He shakes his head in mock-dismay. “How much longer do you think that will last if you keep buying everything I look at?” When this, too, fails to soften Lan Zhan’s resolve, he tries a different tactic. “We couldn’t even afford potatoes,” he says. “Back when I was with the Wens, at the Burial Mounds. Only radishes! If I survived that, I can certainly survive without another pretty comb.”

Lan Zhan’s expression is at once unmoved and yet somehow stricken. “I would have bought Wei Ying potatoes,” he says, like Wei Wuxian doesn’t know, by this point, that Lan Zhan would buy him anything. “If I had known…”

28. ** Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller - ~64,000 words, no rating - Jin Ling & Wei Wuxian with Wangxian in the background. Jin Ling is the best boy! And as he tries to rehabilitate his sect and his family and keep himself alive at the same time, he realizes, horrifyingly, that he has to be the mature one.

29. ** an act too often neglected by Ariaste - Lan Xichen / Meng Yao, ~61,000 words, explicit - The Wangxian is in the background here, but the main story is about Lan Xichen meeting Meng Yao on a dating app and getting immediately dickmatized. Meanwhile. Meng Yao refuses to be won over by Lan Xichen's charm. It goes as well as you'd expect for him.

The caption below is equally sparse: “5’6. Demanding.”

Lan Xichen feels a low simmer of arousal kindle in the pit of his stomach, and he gazes at that word-- demanding --for nearly as long as he’d stared at the photograph. He swipes right.

A few minutes later, a notification pops up: < Hm, the size of your hands is promising.

This is familiar. This is the flirtation stage. Lan Xichen knows the steps to the dance.

30. My Land Beneath Me by longleggedgit - ~30,000 words, explicit - Modern AU where Wei Wuxian is cast out of his sect and out of China to America. And Lan Zhan just...follows.

Lan Zhan always waited for his tea to cool before drinking, which meant he had nothing to do but give Wei Wuxian a judgmental look. “No more McDonald’s.”

“You’re just bitter because you get indigestion from anything that actually tastes good,” Wei Wuxian grumbled.

Because Lan Zhan was insufferably mature and patient, he didn’t rise to the bait. “We have time to stop somewhere before class,” he said.

“Fine. But you’re paying this time.”

It was a bad joke, and predictably, fell flat; Lan Zhan was, after all, paying for everything, every time. Wei Wuxian frowned into his mug.

“You know,” he said, after another swallow, “you really don’t have to be here. I’m going to figure something out.”

Interested in 86 more The Untamed fic recs?

Part 1 - 40 recs Part 2 - 23 recs Part 3 - 23 recs

#the untamed fic #the untamed #master of demonic cultivation #wangxian fic recs #wangxian fic #mdzs #lan xichen/jin guangyao #lan zhan #wei wuxian/lan wangji #wei wuxian #jin ling #lan sizhui #mxtx novels

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rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years

Text

Good for him | G.W.

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

requested, based on the song Already Gone by Kelly Clarkson

summary: Maintaining a relationship while going through grieving process becomes too exhausting for Y/N and George so they part ways. But what happens once they both take control of their lives back and meet again?

word count: 2.5k warnings: grief, mentions of death, insecurity, fluffy ending (hope i didn’t miss any warnings, in any case please let me know)

tags: @izzyyy-1 ; @hufflepuff5972 ; @pandaxnienke

You walked around the flat above the shop, and you thought about the day you helped George and Fred move in. Memories came flooding back to you, you had just graduated Hogwarts, you were all so full of life, looking bright into the future even as the war was tightening its grasp around you. But you couldn’t have expected it to take so much from you.

The door to the flat opened slowly with a creak and you saw a shell of a man walk in. You were standing in the middle of the small entry hall, clutching your bag filled with little things you had left at George’s over the years, things you would now take with you.

He came back after undoubtedly spending the whole afternoon at a pub.

You looked at him and you felt a lump in your throat as tears slowly clouded your vision. You looked at him and once again you wondered if what you were doing was right.

You loved George with all of your heart, loved him more than anything. He had changed your life in so many ways and left his mark on you. And you knew that nobody else could ever love you the same way he did. You were supposed to be each other’s forever, but grief had other plans for you.

After months, you were exhausted. You had tried and tried to help George up after he collapsed along with his brother but it got just too much. You had your own process to go through and you couldn’t do that while pouring all of yourself into a relationship that no longer physically existed. There is a boundary between trying your hardest for love to help someone get better and hitting a wall, trying to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped while losing yourself in the process. You hoped he would move on and find happiness with someone eventually. He was bound to find someone better, someone, to give him more than you could.

At first, he was angry. He felt betrayed. He resented you for leaving him when you were supposed to love him. Looking at him like that hurt you, it almost made you break and take it all back, but you couldn’t. Because love just wasn’t enough to keep you together.

So when his initial shock passed you parted your ways in mutual agreement.

As time went on you slowly got better and better. You focused on yourself, on your career and in time you felt something that resembled happiness. You felt almost at peace, but it was a start.

Almost a year has passed since your break up, and one late afternoon you got an owl and felt a pang in your heart upon reading the name.

You tried to avoid George in fear of losing all that progress that you’ve made in moving on. But you also felt that he didn’t deserve to just get ignored by you and you were curious about his intentions.

My Y/N,

I probably don’t have the right anymore to call you mine, but it feels wrong otherwise.

I missed you. I hope time has treated you well. I know it helped me heal. I know I’m not fully there yet, I still have a long way to go, but I’ve woken up enough to see how shit life is without you. I don’t expect you to just let me back into your life, but if you would, that would make me the happiest man in the world. I just wish to see you and talk to you.

Please don’t ignore this letter, I beg you. Even if you don’t want to see me ever again, please, don’t leave me hanging, I hate uncertainty. Please, before I let you go, tell me you’re alright.

Yours,

George

And so, with a shaky hand, you wrote back:

George,

You know well what we did was for the best. You should move on and find someone who will truly make you happy and give you all that you deserve. I can’t do that for you.

Y/N

You didn’t get another letter from him.

You tried to push George out of your mind again, always trying to find something to occupy yourself with. Until months later, an owl delivered a beautiful, formal-looking envelope to your windowsill. Hermione and Ron were getting married.

You’d been successfully avoiding all Weasley’s gatherings, even though Molly never failed to invite you. Christmas, Easter, all the birthdays. You knew she saw you as one of her own regardless if you were dating one of her children or not. But until now you didn’t want to take that risk.

However, a wedding was too important, and both Ron and Hermione proved great friends to you in the past. If they invited you, that meant they wanted you there. And part of moving on meant you couldn’t just avoid George forever.

You had apparated just outside the Burrow. You saw the wedding tent with some people already there, you scanned the crowd, subconsciously looking for him already. You fixed your dress and with your legs a bit shaky, you approached the entrance.

“Y/N! Hi- !” Ginny elongated, walking up to you with her arms spread wide and a huge smile on her face. “Hey, Gin,” you smiled dimly. “It’s so great to see you, it’s been so long..! I’m really glad you came,” she gave you a proper Weasley hug, one full of emotion, showing you how she really missed you. “I know it was probably not easy,” she added a bit quieter, giving you a knowing look. “But anyway, I’ll take that!” she gestured to the gift bag you were holding in your hand, “I’m on gift duty today, thank you-“

“Do I have a seat assigned?” you asked, looking at the rows of seats for guests. And that’s when you saw him, talking to someone by the wedding arch. His back turned to you, but you recognised him by his posture alone. He was wearing a dark navy three-piece suit. One could get really lost looking at this man.

“Yes, yes, Fleur will show you while I put this away. Fleur..!”

You avoided looking in his direction, afraid of catching eye contact. Waiting for the ceremony you thought to yourself you’ll have to meet him sooner or later, but you just didn’t want to be caught looking at him first. You have moved on. He has moved on.

You glided through the sea of guests with a glass of champagne in hand, some of them headed to the dance floor, some to their tables, just like you. You kept your eyes trained on where you were going, careful not to bump into someone but not looking anyone in the eye.

“Y/N,” called the voice that felt like home. You froze in spot, bracing yourself, then turned in the direction it came from.

“Hi,” he said with the tiniest smile and his eyes filled with uncertainty. He looked a bit better than the last time you saw him. His face seems to have aged a bit during this short time, his cheeks a bit hollow. But he didn’t look as tired, the dark circles under his eyes lightened up a bit. His face was clean-shaven and his hair cut. He looked very handsome.

“Hi, George,” you said the name out loud after so long.

His eyes moved down over your body and back up again, “You look beautiful,” he said sincerely. You shifted on your feet and tightened the grasp on your glass a bit, “Thank you, you look really smart.” He smiled a bit wider. There were a million things he wanted to say at that moment, but he didn’t know which one to lead with. Which one would prompt you to give him your attention and listen to the rest. “May-... may I have a dance..?” he asked quietly, barely audible in all the noise, music playing and people partying. You panicked slightly. You did not feel ready for that. “I… I was just going to sit down for a bit, talk to some other guests. Maybe later,” you blurted out the last part and regretted it almost instantly. There was a bit of a pause between you, George did his best to hide his slight disappointment. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, with a fraction of the glint in the eye that you knew well. With that, he turned around and walked away, just his head visible above the crowd.

Your heart fluttered a bit. This felt like old George.

You did your best to shake that feeling off, then noticed Molly next to one of the tables. You owed her at least a conversation.

Not for a moment has she made you feel guilty about not seeing her all this time. She engulfed you in the biggest hug, showing you just how happy she was to see you. Your spirit lifted instantly, and she hasn’t mentioned your break up and asked about your life, what you did in the meantime. Yet inevitably, the conversation somehow shifted to the topic of Fred’s passing.

“We’ve gotten better, we’re trying as best as we can. That’s what Freddie would’ve wanted,” she said with a wide smile and her eyes a bit watery. “Even Georgie’s getting better,” she nodded, looking at him in the crowd. “Sorry, dear, I promised myself I wouldn’t mention that with you…” she got a bit flustered. “It’s- it’s okay Molly,” you smiled as best as you could. “In this case, I do have to say – it is a shame, dear. You know you’re a Weasley to me but I’d always hoped I’d have you as my daughter.” She rubbed her hand on your shoulder comfortingly, “you were good for him, you know? Even Fred always said that…” You stayed silent, focusing all your might into stopping tears forming in your eyes. “My, I better leave before I make even more of a mess. Do have a nice time tonight, dear,” she gave you one last, warm smile and walked off. Leaving your mind in chaos.

“George..?” you tapped him on the shoulder gently, and even the feeling of his warmth on the tips of your fingers felt tingly. He turned to you right away with a smile that had you weak in the knees, then reached his hand out for you to take and gestured to the dance floor with his eyes.

His touch brought you comfort. He held you just like he always had, as if you picked up right where you left off, right before everything went wrong. George’s touch made you forget about everything around you, and as he led you in dance, you lost yourself. If only he’d lead you outside and into the sunset, without a word, you’d let him.

“You know, I was hoping… If you’d see me today, see how I finally got a hold of myself, pulled myself together, everything would change,” George confessed, his voice strained with emotion. The music slowed down and you were just swaying with it. You looked up at him and he continued. “I mean, why did we end things, Y/N?” he asked desperately.

You looked back down, not able to meet his eyes anymore. He went on before you could answer.

“I was a mess. I was in a dark, dark place, Y/N... I didn’t have enough grip to support you as I should’ve, so instead, I dragged you down with me.” George lifted his head high, looking up at the illuminated ceiling, trying to keep his tears from falling. He didn’t want to fall apart now. “I’m sorry. I know I told you that when we... when you left. But my perspective’s changed, I can see better now and I want to say that again – I'm really, really sorry.” “George, please...” you plead, all your thoughts and doubts from the past coming back to you. “I- I feel so bad... that I couldn’t help you,” you confessed, “it hurt me so much, but I wasn’t enough.” You tried to stifle the sobs, tears streaming down your face now.

George pulled you closer, pulling you flush against him and wrapping his arms tight around you. You tried to find comfort in him, your hands fisting his crisp, white shirt.

“It was not your fault, okay Y/N/N? There was nothing more you could’ve done for me,” he said, resting his cheek on top of your head. “...but it’s behind us now. And not for one moment have I stopped loving you,” he confessed.” “But why...?” you cried, “George, I’ve given you the chance. I let you go so you could move on,” you grasped the shirt tighter, “so you could find someone better... You deserve so much better.” “There is no one better! Give me another chance and I promise, I will spend the rest of my life proving to you how perfect you are for me if that’s what it takes..!” He exclaimed, pulling away a bit to take your face into his hands and look you in the eyes. “Just let me, please.”

All words escaped you the moment you looked into his eyes, holding such sincerity. So you just nodded and smiled weakly, feeling a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

George slowly brought his face closer to yours, leaning in he searched your eyes for any signs of uncertainty until the very last moment when your lips touched. His lips were slightly chapped but so welcoming. When you kissed him back, letting go of his shirt to slide your hands along the soft material to his chest, he brought one of his hands to your waist and used the other to deepen the kiss. The song playing was slowly coming to an end, the singer’s soft voice accompanied by delicate piano melody seemed to set a rhythm to your lips. When it ended, he held your lips together still for a moment, then pulled away.

The breath you took then was the first proper breath in years for you, you breathed George in and felt intoxicated. Your eyes darted between his loving gaze and dazzling smile.

“I love you,” he chuckled, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you back,” you said breathily, wrapping your arms around his body and relaxing into him.

George kept his promise and did not falter in proving to you how perfect you are.

The summer sun was slowly setting, the light wind pleasantly warm. Your eyes were set on his face, eyes closed and a relaxed smile on his lips, as his head lay in your lap. One of your hands was gently stroking his soft hair, while the other he held in his, on his chest. The sunset left a pinkish-orange hue on everything, making it seem even more magical.

You could stay like this forever, you thought, but Molly stuck her head out the window, motioning for you to come inside for dinner. Right as you were about to nudge George, his stomach grumbled, making you chuckle.

“Ugh, when’s dinner gonna be ready…” he groaned sleepily, opening one of his eyes. “Just now, actually. Come on, love, get up.”

So the two of you got up, going inside, hand in hand. And you were each other’s forever.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #weasley twins

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dragonsareourfuture · 3 years

Text

Light Yagami/GN! L’s Sibling!Reader — Protector

⚠️Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, manipulation, reader experiences grief, major character death, open ending.

requested by @darkrose33 ! sorry this took so long, I mostly finished writing it and then changed ideas halfway through, so I rewrote it all lol. I could not think of a way that the dynamic and story line that was requested could work in the context of a healthy relationship, so this isn't exactly a happy or romantic oneshot. I wanted to make this as realistic to Light's motivations and character as I could. I apologize if this isn’t what you wanted but you can always request something else if you would like :)

For as long as you can remember, your big brother was the person you looked up to the most. He was the brains, the one who had no trouble with the academics but every ounce of trouble with the social aspect of life. He wasn’t one to care what people thought about him socially, which in turn allowed him to behave however he wanted. He was an expert at leaving a room silent and stunned with just his words because of his lack of filter, telling only the brutal, honest truth when necessary. You couldn’t help but admire L Lawliet more than anything else in the world.

And because you held such admiration for the boy, you appointed yourself to be the role of his protector. Some kid called him a weirdo behind his back? Not to worry, with a little persuasion you can get them to apologize. He’s feeling overworked and you overhear one of the adults talking about a pile of paperwork they are about to drop off to L’s room? Huh, it seems that paperwork somehow ended up in the fireplace, nothing but a pile of ashes left of it. How strange. However you could protect him, you took on that challenge, even if it was simply being in the same room as him for emotional support. If you knew he needed to consume at least one vegetable that week, you were there to deliver, even if you had to hide it in a piece of cake. Whatever you could do, you did. Some told you that was what made you two so interesting – he was the brains, and you were the brawn, but you both needed each other to balance out. Like Yin and Yang.

So imagine your despair when, quite suddenly, L didn’t need you anymore. He was solving more cases, gaining in fame as the world’s greatest detective in his mere teenage years. He would, undoubtedly, need more protection than little ol’ you could provide once professional criminals found the desire to seek him out and kill him. And of course you wanted him to be safe, wanted him to thrive in the occupation that he excelled at, but…you missed your big brother with all of your heart. Not a day went by that you didn’t wish you could bring L his lunch or defend his honor out in the kickball field when some kid wouldn’t shut their big fat mouth. You missed those days.

You heard about the Kira case and how it was kicking everyone on the task force’s ass, including L’s. It only made you wish you could be there more. You kept up on the news, though. It was just about the only thing you could do. You tried to distract yourself with your own studies, but it was difficult to even try when you knew you could never in your wildest imagination come close to rising above your big brother.

You kept reminding yourself that you were grown now. You were fully capable of making a life for yourself that didn’t involve L – that didn’t include worrying about him every few moments. So you worked however pointless it may have seemed. You cooked, you did chores, even started taking up odd jobs to complete during the little free time you would have spent sleeping if you weren’t prone to dreams about the danger L could be in. Every moment in life was spent trying not to worry…only for you to realize that you had every right to worry all along.

The news itself was not particularly surprising. L and every single one of his runners up had to write out their will in advance – about a decade early. Death was to be expected in that line of work.

You had since moved out of Wammy’s house officially, but always stuck around to do the gardening, occasionally the cooking as well. Also the cleaning…you were basically the Wammy house maid, but you were grateful for the distractions.

When the news came, you were in the middle of planting a batch of bulbs you had bought at the store the previous day – white lilies. You had nearly passed them by in favor of a more colorful flower, but when your eyes caught the lack of pigment of the fully grown lily on the packaging, you couldn’t help but be reminded of your big brother’s pale as bone skin. You had chuckled at the memory, blinked away a few rising tears, and plucked the bulbs from the shelf. Now, with about half of the bulbs buried under the soil and half waiting to be planted, you listened to Roger’s words grow increasingly louder the closer he came to where you sat crouched in the dirt. You wished you hadn’t listened, though. For he only brought you sorrow.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe Roger when he had come to tell you of your brother’s passing, it was simply that it was near impossible for you to imagine a world without the eccentric boy you’d grown up alongside. Sure, you’d been separated for some time now, but you’d grown used to knowing that even if he wasn’t with you, he was still somewhere fighting for the justice he believed in. To be told that he suddenly wasn’t in this world anymore…? You had to see it for yourself. So, despite Roger’s warnings, you ran inside and booked a flight to Japan as soon as you could. In your blind panic, you must have trampled the remaining bulbs you had yet to give life to.

…

The flight was stressful, the landing equally so. The drive to the task force building – torture. By the time you made it out of the car and through the doors of the task force building, you swore your throat was closing up. A glass of water was offered to you and, gratefully accepting the offer, you glugged the water down in a matter of seconds before someone else was offering you a seat.

You sat, pulling your legs up and curling them in. The chair was then pushed into place at a table and the man who offered it to you…placed a hand on your shoulder…?

You jolted, the empty cup in your hands almost toppling out of your grip.

“I’m sorry…! I should have asked first. My apologies…and my condolences.”

He appeared younger than everyone else around you. Young enough to be just about your age. His apologetic smile shone down on you like a beacon of light in the dark and dreary times you had seemingly been trapped in for so long. After that thought, you had stared in disbelief when he told you his name. Light. Fitting, you thought.

Light placed a hand onto the chair next to you, looking at you as if for permission. You nodded vaguely, hoping to convey your silent gratitude for him being so considerate. It wasn’t as if no one else had been this kind to you since hearing about the news, it was more so that you got the sense Light actually cared rather than simply spouting out the usual ‘I’m sorry’s you’re supposed to when someone experiences a loss. His words were not empty; they were full of life and intent. What that intent was, you didn’t know, but you wanted to keep feeling it over the usual hollow atmosphere you and your brother grew up in. So, before you knew it, you were spending hours at a time talking with Light Yagami, the very man who would be taking over the Kira case since your brother’s death.

It was indeed shocking to you how someone so young, even young in comparison to L, could lead an entire investigation. Granted, he had the rest of the task force by his side, but after only one day of observing their dynamic, you could feel the disconnection between them. Light was multiple steps ahead of them; there was no question about it. At times you got the sense he was keeping things from them. But, then again, you were almost certain L had done the same thing while he was leading them. It was difficult to blame someone so intelligent when they wanted to save time and not explain to everyone what their plan is, but lead them all like sheep. It would be faster that way, easier too.

With that final thought, the pedestal you were putting Light on became visible to you. But it couldn’t be a bad thing. It was normal for you to look up to your brother, yes? With Light, it was a different sensation altogether, but the same idea. You admired him, and you couldn’t see the harm in that when he was rubbing your back in comforting circles as you cried, talking to you and telling stories when you wanted to focus on something else. He was helping you, and because he wanted to, no less.

…

It was a strange sensation to wake up and have everyone you know suddenly become cautious around you, treating you like glass that would break if they said the wrong thing. After just a few minutes of this, you knew exactly what day it was. It somewhat startled you, your brother’s funeral being so soon. You wondered if the date had been pushed up, but no. You had simply been…distracted. In a good way, that is. When you first arrived in Japan, you thought that nothing but dread would accompany your visit. You had no clue how you would make it through the couple of days leading up to the funeral, how you would occupy your time. Sightseeing felt disrespectful. Besides, how could you appreciate fine architecture or lush greenery with such a weight in your heart, spreading throughout your body like a disease? What you hadn’t expected was to find someone who seemingly made everything more bearable. Someone who made the days pass faster.

This special someone helped you into your outfit – all black, casual yet put together. Light was gentle with you that day. Not skittish or cautious like the others were, but soft and loving. He would touch you, hands on your shoulders and a brush of his fingers through your hair every now and then, but it would be feather light and comforting all the same. He knew exactly how to make you feel noticed and cared for, but not in the least bit overwhelmed with affection – a perfect medium.

Driving to the graveyard was not as stressful as your initial drive from the airport. You originally suspected this was the case because you had time to accept the reality of it all; you were able to let the information ferment and sink in. But, as you got steadily closer to your destination and all the grief you had avoided for the last few days began to bubble to the surface of your mind, you realized this was not the case. What you had time to do was ignore the truth, become distracted as you always did. It had always been your way of dealing with your own problems. It was L’s problems you could face head on. But anything personal to you? No sir. You desperately wished you’d taken the time to develop a better coping mechanism as the car pulled into the small patch of asphalt among a sea of grass and graves.

You hadn’t even realized how fast you were breathing until Light clasped your hand, his free hand reaching to turn your head to face him directly. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?” You nodded. “Good. Now, I want you to take slower, deeper breaths, alright?” you nodded again and followed his instructions – in then out at a slow pace, inhaling as deeply as you could before blowing the air from your mouth. You squeezed Light’s hand and sent him a weary smile when you had gathered your wits.

The fresh air did you good as you stepped out of the car, shoes crunching in the loose grains of asphalt and soon gliding through blades of grass. You started to calm down, internally congratulating yourself for not freaking out with each step. This was the continued routine until the gravestone came into view. The task force was heading toward it, so no doubt it was L’S. It was marked by a fairly large, golden cross that reflected the setting sun like a mirror. You ducked your head, pretending that it was indeed the sun in your eyes that caused you to stop and cover your face. You waved for Light to go on ahead and assured him you would meet him there in a bit. You were absolutely sure no one bought your excuse, but they still respected your wishes and left you behind to gather around your brother’s grave while you turned your back to it.

You walked back to the car almost on autopilot. You could barely see, so you trained your eyes on the ground as tears freely flowed down your cheeks, not a sound leaving your lips until you were safely beside the vehicle you arrived in. You stomped your foot in the asphalt, kicked the loose pebbles around, feeling just like the child you used to be. Throwing a tantrum was not on your funeral to-do list, but there you were. You just didn’t know if you could bear it, seeing your brother for the last time as nothing but a slab of stone. You could sit by it, protect it all you wanted but it would never need you. Not like he used to. You could plant those lilies you had abandoned by it. That wasn’t actually a terrible idea.

You didn’t know how long you were standing there, pacing in the middle of the parking lot. Mustn’t have been too long, as the sun hadn’t even passed over the horizon, but it felt like an eternity.

Until…what was that? Something caught your attention, causing your head to snap up in search for the source. The others were nowhere in sight, all that stirred were a couple of birds from a nearby tree. That could have been another family visiting a grave, which would make sense given that the noise sounded similar to hysterical crying. Or…was that laughter?

You began to grow worried, deciding on a whim to check up on the others. You wouldn’t approach the grave unless you had to, you decided. Yeah, good plan, you managed to convince yourself as you took steps toward the grave. With every few feet, the noises grew louder, and you were soon able to recognize words. You sped up your pace until you made it over the hill that separated the parking lot from the field only to find…

What was Light doing on the ground? No, a better question would be: what was Light – the person who was working his ass off to catch Kira – doing kneeling on your brother’s grave, shouting that he would get rid of the police? That this is his perfect victory? That he wins?

You felt…what? What could sum up that feeling that filled your chest when that sight was exposed to you? You felt confused, you felt unsure. Then, with the realization of what was going on, you felt betrayal. Then, in a sudden wave intense enough to make you feel as though you would fall over, you felt furious. You felt a sudden need to protect your older brother just like you had done for years with playground bullies and critics, but this time with someone you thought you could trust. Someone you loved who had apparently taken advantage of your care for him – someone who had lied to your face about who they truly were.

Before you knew it you were sprinting across the field. You had no clue what you were going to do until you got to the grave and quite literally kicked him off the soil your own flesh and blood was buried under. The move was so swift you wondered if it had actually happened or if this was all some sick nightmare. God, you hoped it was. Although you almost didn’t want to pray to god now, as there was a self-proclaimed god sitting with the wind knocked out of him at your feet.

“You…you GODDAMN FUCKING TRAITOR—” you couldn’t tell if Light was actually looking at you with eyes glinting with fear or if the sunset lighting was playing tricks on you. “THAT’S MY FUCKING BROTHER—YOU CAN’T—I SHOULD NEVER HAVE—” It was impossible to finish a sentence or even a thought in your own brain. There were so many things you wanted to say and kill him for but right now everything was jumbled together.

The way Light was staring at you didn’t exactly help. Eyes that now looked red in the setting sun bore into your own pupils from the ground. He looked dead serious, almost angry that you had the guts to knock him to the ground in your fit of rage. But although your words were coming out in screaming stutters your movements seemed swift and sure, as the moment Light moved to stand up your foot flew to action once more and planted right onto his chest. His back met the ground for a second time. He wasn’t even trying to contain his fury, clawing at your ankle and baring his teeth like a dog trying his best to be intimidating, but still eager to know what you were planning to do next. After all, he could have easily shoved you off. But he was curious.

You spoke calmly now, mind set on what you wanted to ask. “You never cared about me, did you?” Light’s mouth opened to answer but you went on without letting him speak. “No, you cared about me, but only because my brother was L, and I could give you information now that he’s gone. Am I right?” again, his mouth opened, but when your heel unexpectedly dug into his chest he let out a pained and irritated groan instead of coherent words. It was like you were teasing him, not to get a laugh out of his pain but…for what? You barely even knew yourself. It wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t make you less humiliated for being tricked and it certainly wouldn’t bring your brother back. Either way, Light definitely didn’t like it.

Before you had the chance to react you were thrown onto your back. Light had pushed you back by your leg and rose to his feet, now above you in every sense of the word. He – Kira – had carried out his plan. Meanwhile, you had nothing left.

“You don’t have to go against me,” Light seethed, “All you have to do is let the new world take its shape, and everything will fall into place.”

“That’s a shitty sales pitch.”

“It’s an offer. You’ve done nothing wrong, committed no crimes. You’d do well in my world.” The look on your face made it apparent that you had no interest in his words. Light furrowed his brows, then the ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “I know you –”

“You don’t know anything about me. And I clearly didn’t know you.” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows.

“—you wouldn’t want your brother’s death to be in vain.”

“I—” you paused. “What?”

“L was an obstacle I had to pass to get to a world where less people would have to suffer the same loss you have. I expect you don’t want to just throw away his death and turn me in. you can make something out of his sacrifice—“

“He wasn’t TRYING to be sacrificed; he was TRYING to put a vigilante maniac to death.”

“But if his death could mean a better world for others, you would just throw that away for your own revenge?”

You blinked, once, twice, then rapidly, shaking your head as if trying to prevent dust from getting into your eyes, or Light’s siren song from getting into your head. “Stop. That’s not…Just stop.”

“You know I’m right.” He stepped towards you and for a second you thought he was about to repay you for crushing his lungs moments ago. All that followed was his hand shooting out, stopping in front of your face. You looked up at him in disbelief. “I’ll love and care for you as I did before. I can be the one you care for in his place. All I ask is that you help me create a better world, or at least don’t try and stop me.”

You nearly scoff, but some of his words actually catch your attention. He’d love and care for you…but it would all be fake. Still, what kind of person would you be to reject others a grief-less world just to avenge your brother? But who ever said Light would follow through, not become corrupt along the way if he wasn’t already? There were so many possibilities and so many possible outcomes, all influenced by this one decision that you had to make right now.

You choked on your words.

Familiar voices were approaching.

Time was ticking.

“I…”

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animeyanderelover · 4 years

Note

I'd love to see Hashirama with prompt 74. “As long as you love me everything is alright. You…you do love me, right?”

👍.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsessiveness, delusions, clinginess, angsty stuff

Prompt 74: “As long as you love me everything is alright. You...you do love me, right?”

You remembered that there had been often times where you had wished that Hashirama would just calm down since he was often a lot to deal with. He was always so clingy and the amount of affection he gave you was nearly suffocating, not to mention that you hadn’t forgotten the incident with your clothes. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem in here. No, that all was terrible too, but could be ended by a breakup. And that was the worst in here. Leaving him would be as good as impossible. Not only was there the danger of the whole village being disappointed in you as well as having his furious little bro in your neck, but Hashirama himself could possess quite the threat. He was Hokage. He had power. He could ruin you and your family’s life if he felt like and even get away with it. As much as Hashirama was a sunshine and almost a bit like a child, you had catched up onto one thing at some point into this relationship. Hashirama had a dark side to him. Everyone had, you knew that. You had one as well. But it became dangerous when this dark side was able to ruin someone else like Hashirama was. Luckily he didn’t let this side out very often, it was rarely seen because around you he was always the loving and smothering husband. But that made it also so much more terrifying if this side of him came out. Because it was almost like witnessing a nightmare in real life when seeing this man getting serious and mad.

But you had never seen him like this. He seemed so...so discouraged. So hopeless. So small. You had expected that he would be depressed after Madara had left the village, the man he had considered as his best friend. The man who he had happily introduced you to, the man who he had always stood up for, the man who had betrayed him and had attacked him. You couldn’t even image how hard this must have been for him. And the comments from Tobirama hadn’t really helped at all. He had just scolded him that he should have listened to him before and that he had been right after all about Madara. You and Mito had to literally hit him on his head to snap him out of his lecturing speech and help him realize how devastated Hashirama had looked. You had often seen him sulking about something or being depressed over more childish things. But this had only lasted for a short while, not concerning you too much at the end of the day. He had always been able to get over those small things very quickly and go back to his more goofy self. And that was the thing that had you currently worry the most. He hadn’t gone back to his old self. Instead he had been those last few days after the incident more quiet and thoughtful than usual, causing you to worry yourself almost sick over him. But the most heartbreaking thing you had witnessed so far was how needy he had suddenly gotten. It wasn’t the usual clingyness, it was almost like a desperation, a desire to know that you wouldn’t leave him like his friend had.

“Hey Hashi. What’s wrong?” Hashirama turned slightly surprised, slightly tired around when hearing your soft voice calling him. It was early morning, the sky still dark and most people would have still payed soundly asleep in bed. But not you two. When his gaze met yours he gave you a small smile. But it didn’t look like the ones he usually gave you. Of course there was still warmth and eternal love in it, but he also looked exhausted as well as if he was in pain. “Oh. Hey, darling. I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep. Go back to bed, it’s still pretty early.” You didn’t move, instead glancing with eyes filled with sadness at him. He looked so incredibly vulnerable as hunched over as he was sitting on the couch. Where was the once so energetic and always happy guy who you had so often a day called a moron because he had done something stupid? Where had that man gone? And when would he come back? You couldn’t just let him sit here and let him drown in self sorrow. You had to do at least try to do something for him. He had done so much for you too. So you slowly made your way over to the couch, slowly sitting down next to him. He didn’t react, instead staring with a hollow yet also sorrowful look in his eyes in the space, telling you what he was seeing right now before his inner eye could only be seen by him. You felt a small “pang” in your chest when seeing him spacing out like this, his eyes having lost the light they used to always have inside of them. How could you have ever thought of his personality as annoying and too much? Had you ever even considered that this might have been the reason why he had been even able to reach the position he was currently in right now? He had worked more than anybody else to establish the village and make peace with the other villages. His sometimes almost careless and easygoing looking attitude had given people always courage and hope.

But now he looked so broken, like a small child who needed protection. Or just someone who would be there for you. And if this person had to be you then you would damn well do it. Everything to get him out of his misery, the whole atmosphere in the village had already started to change and became more gloomy due to their leader being on his knees. You sighed worriedly, laying your hand on top of his. Hashirama didn’t look at you, but was quick to grab your hand and intervene his fingers with you, the pressure he put on your hand being only a bit too tight as if being scared that something might happen at the moment. “Hashirama,”, the tone you used reminded you of the one your mother used to use on you, strict yet gentle,”please look me in my eyes.” You had the feeling that he needed a moment or two before your words finally seemed to register in his brain and you almost thought that he wanted to avoid looking you in your face by the way he turned so incredibly slowly his head around to meet your gaze. He was ashamed, you could tell from the way he didn’t dare to look you in your eyes, always looking quickly down whenever he managed to look you for a short second in your eyes. You tried to give him some time to adjust, waiting patiently until he seemed to be a bit less tense than before.

“It’s not your fault, you know. I mean with Madara.” It wasn’t a very wise decision to mention his name like this, but you had to directly talk with Hashirama about this, even though he stiffened when hearing his name again. “No one blames you Hashi. Not the village, not your clan, not your brother nor Mito. And me neither. We all know you tried your best. The best might sometimes not be enough, but it’s the will that counts. You don’t need to be perfect or anything like this. It was Madara’s decision and you couldn’t have done anything to help him. I understand that it must be hard for you to live with the knowledge that your best friend turned against you and that you had to fight him. It’s a heavy burden on your soul and heart, but you aren’t alone with this. You have so many people in your life who are there for you. You just have to look out of the window and see the village, the people in there who are willing to help you. As harsh as it may sound, but you have to eventually let go of him. I don’t demand from you to erase those memories of of you and him together, but I ask you to accept that you couldn’t have done everything to stop him and to stop thinking that it’s all your fault. There are people who need you right now. So please stop being so sad and try to live with it. And if you aren’t strong enough to carry this on your own, I’m here for you just like your brother, Mito and so many more. Alright?”

Hashirama stared shocked at you, looking like he hadn’t expected you to say this. But only a short moment later the impact of what you had just said hit him. You had never seen him that emotional before which caused your heart to clench from sadness seeing him like this. You could see the visible hurt in his eyes, the feeling of not being able to do anything and prevent it from happening, the hurt of being betrayed from someone you had known for such a long time. The thing that made it even more bitter for you was that you also saw some of the emotions his eyes always used to hold for you when looking at you. The adoration and infinite love he used to have and still had for you. Together with his somewhat forced yet also thankful and sincere smile it let you feel an emotion that you couldn’t name, not knowing how to feel about the dualism of feelings displayed on his face. “As long as you love me everything is alright.” When saying this he suddenly crawled closer towards you, hugging your waist and laying his head on your lap. And you felt like your heart had just shattered in your chest, witnessing this complete action of utter desperation from his side. He had just come crawling to you like an insecure child needing comfort.

“You...you do love me, right?” You glanced down at him, looking at his eyes that begged you silently to tell him you did. What was this? Why was he doing this? Was he afraid that you would leave him too just like Madara did? Was that the reason why he was acting so needy right now? Did he need to hear that you loved him that badly? There were so many quest swirling around in your mind, but you put them all for the moment aside, focusing on the man clinging tightly onto your waist and tugging slightly on the fabric of your pajamas, wanting, needing you to answer his question. And how could you have said no to him when he was in such a fragile state like right now. “Of course I do, Hashi. I always will.”

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere hashirama #yandere hashirama senju

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headinthestaticsky · 3 years

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The Phenomenon of the Immortal Sun: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 7

None of the characters in Twilight belong to me, all rights go to Stephenie Meyer.

Authors note: I have no idea how this turned out... hope you like it. This is also a short chapter... I wanted to pace this a certain way so I hope it's not disorientating.

"He's so hollow My baby, made him blind until he wasted fate So I'm left behind until he curse my sorrow But I know on mother earth I see the weather"

Mother Earth by: BANKS

One Week Later...

Burning...weakness, the constant chase for satisfaction that could never fully be fulfilled. Never being able to get enough blood was finally getting to me, my mind was playing cruel tricks on me and I had no control over my emotions. It felt like I was a newborn again, I wanted to snap at everyone who talked to me, no matter how kind they were. I remember Carlisle told me when he first turned that he tried to kill himself by starvation, the hunger had driven him so mad he was desperate to drink anything and a deer was in his line of view. I guess the madness came at a good time for him and I knew that I could get a moment of clarity soon.

I was thankful Sam didn't do anything brash when he found out I was pregnant. I guess us being so close all those years had a hand to play in his decisions. I haven't heard anything about Bella and Edward... it concerned me a bit. I knew both had vindictive tendencies and I was just waiting for them to strike. I landed back on the white couch, my black clouded, and dark circled eyes were just staring at the couch...It felt like I could burn a hole into my eyes in a constant state of fixation on that same spot. No blood could sidate me, whether it was animal, or human. The familiar touch of my love was the only thing anchoring me down, reminding me of who I was, and who I will eventually become again. I sat up and stretched my neck, I took in a deep breath before puffing it out again. Esme, Alice, Dean, Emmett, and Carlisle had all gone out for a quick hunt so they could be at their strongest just in case I went into labor. For now, it was just Bree, Jasper, and Rosalie with me.

"You know I just realized something," Rosalie said, looking at me.

"What?" I inquired back.

"You two have never talked about baby names, what are they?"

I let out a small chuckle before turning to Jasper, a smirk was on his face as well.

"Well, I thought of Amelia or Rebecca for a girl and Louis or Vincent for a boy... I have another boy name but... I'm not too sure about it." I answered back.

"Those aren't... terrible. I am actually impressed. I think Louis and Amelia are beautiful names" Rosalie replied a smile was on her face.

" I am going to love this child with my entire being but... I never want to go through this ever again. I mean... I feel like I am going crazy."

Jasper rubbed my shoulder comfortingly, he could sense the guilt I felt for feeling like that.

"I could only imagine how bad you must feel, I couldn't handle not drinking blood for 2 days." Bree added.

"Just wait, when they'll come, what happening now will seem minuscule." Jasper comforted.

Rosalie sat next to me now, nodding in agreement with Jasper.

I smiled down at my stomach and sighed.

"Yeah... it will."

I had gotten up with the help of Jasper and Rosalie, Bree had walked into the kitchen to get me some more animal blood when suddenly, the world went black and a searing pain hit me in every nerve of my body. I could hear the echoing of Rose, Bree, and Jasper's panic filled the room. My vision came back and I looked down at my stomach, it was beginning to crack. In my moment of faintness, I was moved into Carlisle's office. I had blacked out again, hearing the frantic voice of Rosalie on the phone.

POV Change: Jasper's

It had happened so quickly, no one knew what had triggered it. Rosalie and I helped her up and as soon as she got to the counter, she doubled over in pain and blackout. She then started to fall to the ground losing her grip on the counter, her shirt had lifted up slightly and I saw her stomach. It was littered in cracks as if she was beginning to shatter. I caught her and ran her into Carlisle's office, everything was already laid out for her. Bree had run in a given Rosalie the phone, she dialed quickly hoping Carlisle would have received the call so far away.

"Hello?" I heard Carlisle's voice through the phone.

"Carlisle!? It's Fleur... I think she went into labor! You need to get back here now her skin is starting to crack." Rosalie said franticly, if she was a human she would've passed out by now due to lack of oxygen.

"I won't be able to make it back in time you three just need to listen to what I say!" Carlisle demanded.

"Yeah okay... what do we do?" I asked, Rosalie had put the phone on speaker.

"You're going to have to break her skin all the way, if it is cracking so severely she won't be able to give birth naturally without dying. Break the skin on the lower part of her stomach, that's where they'll come out. No knife will be able to penetrate her skin and morphine won't affect her."

I swallowed hard before doing what Carlisle said, as soon as I started cracking it however I could hear Fleur starting to scream, it must've woken her up. Rosalie and Bree jogged toward her trying to comfort her.

"Hey, hey, you're going to be fine okay? This is the hardest part... hold my hands if you have to." Rosalie said lowering herself down to Fleur's level. Fleur didn't seem to hear her, she was too concentrated on the pain. I felt every part of it, it reminded me of when I was with Maria but... I never knew I could feel something this strong before, it was unbearable.

"What now!?" I asked demandingly.

"Do you have her skin broken all the way?"

As soon as he said that, a gush of blood expelled from her body, it was probably from the human blood the protected those organs.

Everything else had faded out and I quickly grabbed them. A wail could be heard across the room. I could hear Rosalie gasp before laughing joyfully, and Bree just stood in the back, she looked shocked. Fleurs screaming had stopped and she sighed in relief, she still sounded weak. I held them close to me and smiled, I looked into their eyes and other facial features. He was a spitting image of his mother.

"Her skin should heal on its own now, it may take a few days," Carlisle explained before the phone went dead.

"Looks like you were right Darlin, it's a boy."

"Oh he's perfect Fleur!" Rosalie exclaimed.

"He's beautiful... Ezra is beautiful..." She then blacked out again...

"Come back Fleur...please." I murmured.

#jasper whitlock x oc #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x reader #jasper cullen #jacob black #jasper hale #jasper hale x oc #carlisle cullen #emmett cullen #esme cullen #alice cullen #edward cullen #twilight saga #bella swan #twilight

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gallickingun · 4 years

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last chance || b.k.

SUMMARY: After All Might’s demise at the hands of an unlikely hero-turned-villain, the world unfurls into chaos. Villains run rampant, heroes are dying in the streets, and you are left with a rowdy group of renegades to seek out the legendary Ground Zero, a vigilante that you’ve only encountered through ghost stories. After narrowing down his sightings to one central location, you are sent out to beseech him for help, if he even truly exists in the first place.

PAIRING: Apocalyptic Pro Hero!Bakugou x Renegade!Reader RATINGS: M/E+ WARNINGS: language, violence, smut, etc. WORD COUNT: 7.3k+

FOREWORD: For all intents and purposes, we’re going to pretend that All Might hasn’t lost his power, even after handing it off to Deku!

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | mobile | writing tag

Author’s Note: This is my submission for the bnharem nsfw collab, apocalypse edition! I was shocked that I was able to snag Bakugou on my first round of collaboration, and I’m so stoked to read all of the other fics! The masterlist can be found HERE. This might feel a little OOC, but hopefully it makes sense by the end. It is an AU after all.

“The Symbol of Peace is dead.”

You pull the bandana further up around your mouth and nose, the ash in the air seeping into your lungs, clouding your vision as the debris strains your breathing. Your ankles ache, mile after mile threatening to grind your bones to dust.

“It would seem we never knew the true power of All Might’s quirk, now known as One for All.”

A thickness swells up in your throat, your eyes blurring with tears, and yet you keep walking. You push through the thickets of overgrown foliage, slashing away with the machete you usually keep tucked against your hip. Crying will do nothing to help you, not now. Tears are for the weak.

“He had passed on his power to a successor, a young student named Midoriya Izuku.”

The darkness of night helps to hide you from those who want you slain where you stand. Your black clothing keeps you but a shadow amongst the trees, concealing your identity to anyone who might gaze upon the horizon. Even though you are alone, your mission keeps you company.

“The young boy became an amazing Pro Hero, climbing the charts quite fast once graduating from Yuuei High. And then, something happened.”

You grit your teeth when you see your destination ahead – a large cliff, covered in moss and dense, lush kudzu. There is a cave carved into the side of it, hardly able to be seen from the distance with which you are currently separated from it. And yet, you’ve been dreaming about this place for years, ever since the overture.

“It would seem that young Midoriya Izuku, also known as Deku, has killed the Symbol of Peace.

All Might is dead.”

The weight of the world settles on your shoulders at the memory of the news broadcast. It is like this new path you’ve gone down has formed you into some sort of Atlas, a woman in charge of holding the world together from the shadows, as if it may fall apart if you falter for even the slightest of moments. Your knees ache and your back is slick with sweat, but somehow you manage to shoulder the burden and keep walking, galaxies treading in your wake.

After all, finding Ground Zero is your responsibility.

“We need him.”

You brush your hair from your eyes, looking down at the map strewn out in tatters on the tabletop, “No one has seen him, not really. He’s practically a myth, a legend. Even if he’s real, what makes you think he’ll help us?”

The redhead beside you slams his fists together, the echoing sound of stone impacting stone reverberating in the room. You wince at the sharpness of it, but combined with the determined expression rooted within his features, you feel a renewed sense of purpose settled into your spine. You straighten up, curling your hands to fists, and match his manifestation of conviction with a grit of your teeth and tilt of your head.

“You’re right, Kirishima,” you point to the central location on the map, the one you’ve been investigating for what feels like years, “Ground Zero will be there. And I’m going to convince him to help us.”

The stone bites into your blunt nails, drawing blood that makes it even more difficult to scale the side of the structure. You knew this would come, so the makeshift climbing gear strapped to your waist keeps you secure as you continue to lower yourself down.

At the mouth of the cave, you see a small overhang, just far enough past the opening for you to land. Once you’ve gotten close enough that you know you won’t fall to your death into whatever disastrous demise may greet you thousands of feet below, you drop onto the ledge. Your knees wobble, ankles turned at just the right angle that they absorb most of your fall.

The opening of the cavern is dark; ominous smoke leaking from the front of it, furling around in midair. Your body shudders, a chill sending a fresh wave of goosebumps over your skin, and for a moment you wonder if you should retreat.

Kirishima’s crimson eyes, hard set and piercing, are all you can see when you close your eyes. His voice rings in your ears, reminding you that this is what you must do, you have to find Ground Zero. He is the only one capable of taking down Deku.

You swallow, bracing your spine and curling your fists, forcing yourself to take the first step forward. There is a curtain of vines separating the inside of the cave from you. You reach forward, curling your fingers around the thick, verdant tendrils, and push them to the sides so you may walk through.

Every single nerve within your body vibrates with the knowledge that you may die here in this cave, alone and forgotten. Your lower lip wobbles, but you stamp down the negative emotions and rather channel them into something akin to confidence. Once you’ve passed through to the other side, you release the vines and find yourself shrouded in darkness.

It takes a moment, but your eyes adjust eventually. You can make out the walls of the cave, glistening and jagged, and you use the reach of your arms to press against the rocky surface, guiding yourself further down the winding path. It is strange when you feel a substance much more powdery beneath your touch, and when you pull your hand away to smell it, the scent reminds you of soot.

Sweat rolls down your spine, tickling your skin, but you do not have the patience nor the ability to redirect your attention to it, for fear of what might happen when you refocus to something less important. You hold your breath, trying to listen as best you can for any and all sounds echoing within the walls of the cave, but all you hear is quiet.

Your imagination begins to wander as you take each step, furthering the horrific ends you’ve conjured up for yourself within the confines of your mind. The chill of the cave in tandem with your sweat creates steam from your body, rising high and bringing forth a bout of humidity that gives your lungs more difficulty.

Turning a corner, you feel the air begin to get warmer. You force yourself to take short breaths, bringing oxygen to flow back through your blood as it rushes through you, thundering in your ears. The sound does little to quell the panic rising in your throat, like a billow of smoke suffocating you as it rolls through your body.

Fear grips your heart when you hear the first sound.

You stop, turning your feet in case you need to bolt in the opposite direction. Your eyes are widened, pupils dilated in the dark to try and accommodate. It does not repeat itself, but rather alters, when you hear it again.

“Tch.”

The human-like nature of the sound brings about a whole new level of anxiety, lightning strikes underneath your skin as reality settles in. You lick at your lips, the dryness of your mouth ever present when you prepare yourself for a speech. You continue down the cave pathway, the faint glow of orange beginning to color the walls, giving you more light to see your feet in front of you.

Eventually you are able to stumble through the cavern on your own now, without the guide of your hands on the rock on either side of you. Shallow breaths fill your lungs, erratic breathing making your shoulders shake in anticipation. You lick at the seams of your gums, begging your mind to call forth a beautiful string of words that will convince this legendary vigilante to once again rise up, with the backing of your renegade fighters, to take down the villainous once-hero Deku.

You come up on the furthermost part of the cave, the base of it opening up and rounding out to provide the hideaway with a spacious enough cavity to serve as a living space.

Your eyes are drawn to every inch of the room, starting with the wall where weapons are strung up like trophies. Chiseled into the stone are hollows in the shape of guns and knives and grenades, acting like shelving for the tools of destruction. Beneath it is the fire pit, burning high with flames, licking up at the air and peeling away what little oxygen remains. You find it harder to breathe here, mostly in part to the depth of the cave and the ongoing fire, stealing the breath from your very lungs.

Then your eyes find him, his back to you, settled on a log that will most likely be used for firewood at a later date. Your tongue feels like a sandbag in your mouth and you can’t force yourself to produce enough saliva to make up for the smoke in your throat.

And then he rises.

He is every bit as beautiful as they said he would be in all of the stories. Tales of bulging muscle and tall stature, hands that save the world with each flex of his knuckles, scars littering his body like a map, or like veins of pain running through slabs of chiseled marble.

He turns, and his eyes seem familiar.

You take a hesitant step forward, captivate by his serious stare. The rivulets of crimson and amber swirling in his irises make you want to drown in a lake of fire, burned at the stake for the sake of his cause. Your body cannot resist him, so you draw closer, further into the heat, begging yourself to become a slave to it so long as it means you can continue to find him in the flames.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You are fumbling for words when he speaks again, “You’re wasting my time, baka. I’m not sure what about the sight of a secluded, secret cave gave you the idea to waltz in here like you own the damned place, but I’m kind of busy. So leave.”

The way your eyes roam around his abode, settling on each small space and dissecting it for everything that it is worth, unsettles him. He steps closer to you, blocking your vision with his wide shoulders.

“It doesn’t look like you’re very busy.”

The words are blurted from your mouth with little forethought, but they have you both reeling, your hands slapped over your lips as if you could take them back with simple action. The man stood in front of you shifts into some sort of attack position, hands curled into fists and the air begins to smell sickly sweet.

“Fucking bitch,” he bites the words as they exit his teeth, narrowing his eyes to you until they are but slits, “Get the hell out!”

“No, no!” You are flailing now, the impending doom of your failure to bring him back with you turning your stomach into knots. You shake your head, reaching out to press your hands to his chest, “Listen, please, you are Ground Zero, are you not?”

The sound of his own name echoing in the cave gives him pause. He tilts his head, ashen locks falling over his line of sight. You notice his head is buzzed at the base, nothing but blonde stubble left behind, however the top of his head is covered with pale locks of spike hair, as if he himself is a bomb ready to be blown at all times.

“I don’t know who the hell told you where to find me, but I’m not the guy you’re looking for.” He smacks your hands away with the back of his wrist, turning to stalk back to the fire. Once he settles on his stump again, he pulls another skewer of meat from a pack off to the side, rotating it over the fire to begin roasting it.

All you can think is how much of a let down this entire trip has been. You have walked for miles, for days, in order to hunt him down. You have hidden in jungles and abandoned buildings, and almost been caught by several villains with quirks you almost could not overpower on your own.

“Kirishima spoke so highly of you,” your voice is faraway, like you are on another plane of existence, looking down on him from above, “I thought you’d be more heroic than this.”

At the sound of your friend’s name, the man’s head tilts, eyes shifting as he looks over his shoulder at you, “Kirishima? Eijirou?”

“Y-You know Kiri?”

You take a cautious step forward, unsure of whether he believes Kirishima to be a friend or a foe. His eyes are lost, somewhere between here and there, unable to focus on any one thing as he rolls the name around on his tongue, tasting the distant memories there while they play out against the cavern walls for only his eyes to see.

“Kirishima was my-” he pauses, gritting his teeth together as his knuckles turn white around the skewer, “…he was my friend.”

The man stands to his feet, discarding the half-cooked slab of meat into the fire, “If Kirishima sent you, then things must be bad.”

You nod, striding forward until you are just close enough that his body heat is intoxicating, and the scent from earlier, the one that makes your head spin with saccharine promises, fills your nostrils until you cannot make out anything else.

“We need your help,” you say, voice wavering in the middle, “Deku has started to search for every hero, every renegade, and he’s murdering them. I came to bring you back to the rest of those who are still fighting. You are a legend, if we have your help, there’s no way we’ll lose.”

A wry smirk adorns his mouth, quirking his lips upward, “Kid, I don’t know who told you I was a legend, or that I’d be of any help, but I’m out here for a reason.”

“Just come back with me,” you plead, resisting the desire to wrap your fists around his tank and pull, “we need you.”

There is a hesitant look in his vermilion irises, something that tells you he is still hiding something. But, he straightens his spine anyway, a deep breath puffing out his chest, “I always did like to kick Deku’s ass.”

You cannot contain the beaming smile on your face, even when you turn on your heels to begin walking out of the cave and back to the light.

Which keeps you from seeing the dejected look in his eyes.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

Weeks of planning the perfect attack have brought you and Ground Zero closer.

Although now you know him as Bakugou Katsuki.

When he first reunited with Kirishima, and his presence was made known to your rag-tag team, you were shaken at the realization that legends are people too. Even in his vigilante times, Bakugou still held that same spark that lit his flame throughout the duration of his time at Yuuei, much of which he spent with Kirishima by his side.

“Holy shit, man!” Kirishima reaches around his shoulders for a hug, which Bakugou hardly reciprocates, “I can’t believe Ground Zero is you!”

There are moments where you catch his gaze lingering on you – when you are cooking dinner, when you chop firewood – and of course your eyes find him too. He trains shirtless most of the time, body on display as the sweat rolls down his body. His knuckles are bruised and his body is battered, and yet he continues to get up every day and start all over again.

You do note that you have not seen him use his quirk, not since he arrived at your renegade hideaway. It seems to be in reverie of everything going on, but from what you remember, Bakugou Katsuki was not a shy man, never one to keep himself from the spotlight. It is why he is the only one who pushed himself hard enough to compete with Deku, and to stay as his rival.

When you ask Kirishima, he just shrugs it off, “He probably doesn’t want any attention. Would you, if you felt like you had run away when the world needed another hero?”

So you co-exist. He near you, and you near him. Always orbiting, but never colliding.

There are times where you allow your affections to slip. When you’re passing him by, a gentle palm on his hip to alert him of your presence. When he reaches above you to pull a weapon off the shelf, his hand finds purchase at the base of your spine, as if steadying himself even though he is one of the sturdiest men you have ever seen.

There is a moment, a drunken haze, that leads you to believe he might even kiss you, however it is gone before it has the ability to flower into anything more.

Time passes, months that feel like years, of tracking and sleuthing and killing. There is murder on both sides, and you have both suffered losses.

One night he finds you, sitting on the beach, your tears glittering like starlight on your cheeks.

“This is war,” he says, squatting in the sand, “none of us is innocent.”

You sniffle, rubbing your arm against your face to rid it of your transgressions, “And what about those who want to be?”

Bakugou reaches forward, a careful palm gliding over your cheek as a new bout of tears springs forth like a leak. You can’t see the sad smile on his face through your tears, your vision glassy and clouded, and he is thankful that you cannot spot his weakness. He brushes the tears away and turns your head with the gentle flick of his wrist, “We’ll get there when we get there.”

You want to crumble, to falter and fall into a million shards of glass, and he knows this. He must, because there’s no way that the pressure of the lives of the rest of the world does not eat away at one’s soul until there is nothing but barren earth left. You circle your hand around his wrist, leaning your cheek into his palm so you can feel the heat of him and find comfort in his touch.

“What if we never get there?”

You can’t look at him, not when your scars are on display. Your heart wrenches in your chest and the pain is like a thousand cuts littered across your body until you are nothing but bleeding wounds. In your mind, you’ve succumbed to the sea of red, drowning in it, choking on it.

Bakugou does a strange thing then. He presses his other palm to your waist, drawing you forward so he can kiss the smooth skin of your forehead, “Don’t be an idiot.”

And then he turns to leave.

Your forehead burns like a blister with the echo of his affections.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

The time finally comes.

After months of research and loss, there is a plan.

“We know where he’s hiding,” Kirishima points to a central location on the map, releasing a breath as he looks up to Bakugou, “the guards will change shift at midnight, and that’s when you’ll attack. We’ll be on the ground to distract any other, smaller threats, but we’re counting on you to take him down in the end.”

Bakugou shoves Kirishima, but he falters himself, eyes unable to focus on any one thing, “I know, idiot. You didn’t bring me all the way out here to take my victory from me.”

You smile at the scene, catching his gaze as he turns to look back at the rest of the room. There is a crack in his armor when he sees you, confidence melting into something else, another emotion you can’t quite pin down. And you’re not sure if you really want to.

The rest of the meeting is all logistics, something you have already heard a dozen times, so you find yourself wandering along the coastline, the night air washing like a balm over you, sea salt in your lungs when you breathe. Your feet are barely in the water, but enough for it to lap up around your ankles with foam when the waves crest to shore. You hold yourself around the middle, as if you might be able to keep your broken pieces from shattering if you squeeze tightly enough.

Tears of salt match that of the ocean as the droplets roll down your cheeks, hanging on your jaw until they are too weighty, and then they fall into the seawater, melded together as if they belong. Your fingers ache, digging into your biceps to give yourself some sort of anchor while you watch the moon and stars shift in the night sky.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The words are reminiscent of the first time you met, all those months ago. They make you smile, a gentle huff of a laugh escaping your lips, even if the gesture does not quite reach your eyes. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, arms still wrapped around your torso, the jagged edges of your soul sinking in deeper the more you try to hide your faltering pieces.

“Thinking,” you answer quietly, soft voice almost overwhelmed by the waves.

Bakugou is drawn in closer, as if you are the sea, a siren calling to him from the beyond, and he strides forward until he is parallel with you. His eyes watch the waves, but the pull is to you, and he can only resist for so long.

“It’s just Deku,” he is trying to reassure you, reaching out to rest his palm on your neck, sifting fingers through the hair at the nape of it. “I won’t lose to him, not again.”

This brings your attention to his eyes, your body turning so you can approach him head-on, fear wracking your body like a storm. You gaze up at him, jaw quivering under the stress of your teeth grinding against one another, “Why did he do it?”

His hand glides from your neck to your jaw, tilting your eyes upward so you cannot look away from him, in spite of how difficult this conversation might be to have. He has not spoken of his childhood rival for what feels like an eternity; airing out his burdened confessions is but a foreign concept. He would rather keep them bottled away within the cage of his ribs, until the poison slowly dredges through his veins and he can fall away into some deep sleep brought on by death.

“No one could have expected it,” Bakugou starts, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as he speaks, like the ministrations may give him the groundwork to have the conversation, “but One for All had too many wielders, had grown too powerful. Deku’s body couldn’t contain it and still stay sane.”

Bakugou looks frustrated, his brow tugged so his forehead wrinkles. You reach up to brush your thumb over the creased skin, “I’ve heard the stories. That the call to power was too strong, and he never told anyone because he was afraid of being weak.”

“Izuku has never been weak.”

His voice is ragged, as if glass has been lodged into his throat to inhibit his speech. Bakugou turns his head so you cannot see the emotion welling up in his eyes, “All Might should have seen it, but by the time he caught it, Deku had already gone mad. He snapped All Might’s neck on live television, the fucking bastard.”

The heaviness of the situation sits on your shoulders and you wonder if Bakugou has ever felt the burden of Atlas; you recall the significant burden weighing you down when you were first sent to retrieve him. Your mortal body wanted to crumble beneath the importance of your mission, you can’t even begin to fathom the overwhelming guilt he must be riddled with every day from the moment he wakes until he falls asleep.

“Then he came after the rest of us, one-by-one. Todoroki was next, then Uraraka.” Bakugou swallows the thick, pent-up emotion settled in his throat like barbed wire. He steels his gaze, even though it is only focused on the moon. “Kirishima was able to take a group of heroes and hide out when Deku came for me.”

You recall the fight like a movie playing on the backs of your eyelids. Bakugou and Deku fighting head to head, lightning and explosions igniting the swirling storm the unfurled around them. Pouring rain and debris flying, small tornados brought on by the use of Deku’s quirk, destroying the nearby buildings until there was nothing left.

Bakugou’s voice is heady, hands fallen from your face as if he no longer deserves to touch you. He takes a step backward, the roaring of the ocean giving him a pause, as if he were listening to the water for some sort of encouragement to continue his tale, to keep fighting.

You can’t help but wonder if losing the proverbial fight against Deku has tarnished his soul much deeper than he would ever admit, if his body has been at war with itself for years, unable to choose a side, unable to relent.

“I fought him for what felt like hours. Whatever One for All had done to him, corrupted his mind, broken his spirit,” Bakugou shakes his head, a snarl on his lips, “that wasn’t Deku that I was fighting. That was someone else.”

His breath hitches, “I-I’m not sure what the fuck possessed him to do what he did next, but he took-��

Bakugou’s throat bobs and his eyes flit from you to the water, unable to look at you in the face as he gnaws on his lower lip. The words must be too harsh, a pain running much further than skin deep. You know that his soul must be bruised, the very core of him broken beyond recognition.

“Took what, Katsuki?” you ask gently, reaching to tug his chin back so he is looking down at you, “You can tell me.”

Bakugou’s breathing is labored, quick, a mixture of frustration and anguish pressing down on his throat like a pair of hands, encasing his esophagus in a tight grip. He shakes his head, “He, uh- he let me go.”

It sounds disingenuous coming from his mouth, as if he’s forcing a lie through his teeth, his voice grating against his gums like metal. You reach out to touch his arm, but he sloughs you off with a quick movement, taking a step and pushing you further. Tears glisten in his eyes, but he does not let them fall; he cannot lose the battle with his body too. He looks up to the moon and lets loose a feral growl, crumbling to his knees and digging his hands into the wet sand, like tearing into it might provide him some sort of release.

“And then I tucked my fucking tail and I ran. Like a goddamn coward.” Bakugou’s jaw is rippling when he snaps his attention to you, eyes ablaze with red fire, “And that’s the hero you all claim to have needed. I wasn’t a hero, I was a fucking pussy. I was weak.”

Bakugou rises from the water, a murderous glare in his eyes, “And now I’m done being weak. I’m going to finish what I couldn’t before, I’m going to kill the bastard.”

You have let him vent his personal failures into the air, but now it is your turn to speak. Circling your fingers around his wrists, you pull yourself closer to him, as if the two of you are bound by an invisible thread.

“You’re not going alone,” you tell him, voice sure. You stand rooted in the ground, feet dug deep in the sand, “I won’t let you.”

He rolls his eyes, blowing a breath out of his nose, “And you think I’ll let you? No fucking way.”

The words sit on your tongue, burning like embers, syllables you’ve been stoking for months as you’ve grown closer to him. Your body rises up on your toes on instinct alone, eyelashes fluttering shut as you take him in one last time. You grit your teeth and a breath shudders from your lungs, shattering your heart like glass.

Your fingers traipse up his torso, climbing over the mounds of muscle that he has worked so hard to perfect. You feel the heat of tears well up in the back of your eyes, your vision blurred as you try to memorize everything about him in the short time you have left. When your palms reach his cheeks, fingertips dancing against warm, tanned skin, you can’t help but to tug yourself closer.

He can barely protest before you have melded your mouth to his, arching your back so your chest is flush with the broad plane of muscle in front of you. Bakugou hesitates, but just as you are about to pull away and profusely apologize, his arms snake around your waist to yank you closer. Your hips roll into his reflexively, finding the hardened length of his cock almost instantly.

Bakugou’s kiss is bruising, a heated ferocity driving him forward to part your lips at the seams, delving his tongue between your teeth at the first chance he receives. You moan at his affections, your hands threading through his hair, pinkies finding the stubble of his undercut while the others sift between blonde locks.

Tears are pushed from your eyelids, and he feels them against his cheeks as he kisses you. Bakugou slips his hands under the thin fabric of your tattered shirt, warmth spreading from the base of your spine outward to every extremity.

“I won’t lose you,” you manage between breaths, forcing the words out despite the possibility of his rejection.

Bakugou does not stop loitering affection over you like it were his job just because you show a moment of vulnerability. Rather, he’s spurred on by the admission, his hands digging deeper into your muscles now, most likely leaving bruises in their wake, and his teeth and tongue are merciless on your mouth.

The palms of his hands slowly drift down until he has cupped your thighs, his body folded just enough to give him a better angle to pull you up into the air. You hold in a squeal, unwilling to alert the rest of the camp, quickly wrapping your legs around his waist.

He breaks the kiss as oxygen begs his airways to open up once more, heaving breaths making his chest expand with sharp inhales. Through gasping breaths, he shakes his head, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re not sure how best to beg him to take you for all you’re worth here on the beach, but somehow you must silently communicate it, because he finds a secluded place and lays you down there, your back dug into the ground, but you are rather uncaring to it all. Your hands can’t find enough of him, insatiable in your efforts to map him out to memory, burning the impression of him into your mind so you may never lose him, even if something tragic were to part the two of you forever.

Bakugou’s fingers make quick work of the button of your shorts, delving his hand inside to brush at the bare folds of your core, already slick with arousal. He chuckles, nudging his nose over your neck, “Prepared for this, were you?”

A laugh is cut short by a whine, his teeth sinking into your jugular, sucking harshly on the skin there. Your hands find his shoulders, blunt nails bludgeoning the skin of his shoulders so he is seething into your body, curses flying from his lips as if they might brand your flesh if he whispers them hotly enough.

You whimper his name as he sheathes his fingers within you, two knuckles stretching your inner walls, scissored fingers making you throw your head back. Your body does not feel like your own, every wanton moan and twitch of your muscles in response to his salacious ministrations, reactions that you cannot fight, even if you wanted to.

Giving in, you reach down desperately, clawing your nails at the waistband of his cargo pants, uncaring as to how you get your palm underneath his underwear. Bakugou uses the hand not buried in your pussy to grab you by the wrist, pinning your hand over your head.

“You’re a needy little slut, hah?” Bakugou tightens his grip and speeds up his pace, earning him a wriggle from your body as you try to fight back. He smirks, teeth and gums on full display as he glowers down at you, “Don’t you worry, baby, I’m gonna give you my cock. Be patient.”

You whine in response, tilting your head to try and capture his lips again. Bakugou finds you halfway, his mouth parted so you can begin mapping out the curves of his teeth with your tongue. You kiss him as if your life may depend on it, like the time you are sharing may end at any moment.

You kiss him like he may die tomorrow.

There is fervor and passion and admiration conveyed with each smacking of your lips, your noses brushing when you try to angle yourselves to become closer. All the while, his middle and fourth fingers are working you forward into the throws of pleasure, lightning striking your core whenever his fingers brush up against your glutinous walls in just the right manner.

“Katsuki, please,” you beg of him, dragging your nails over the corded muscle of his shoulders. You can feel yourself slipping already, the impending doom of what is to come giving your body more urgency.

Bakugou growls when he feels your cunt clamp around his fingers, the thought of his cock within your tight hole making him dick twitch. You buck up when the head of his length brushes your thigh in his arousal, seeking him out despite the fullness you already feel from his digits pumping up into your heat.

Your whole body is shaking with the threat of your impending orgasm on the horizon, brought on by his disastrous fingers urging you forward. You cry out for him, wanton and begging as you pant his name repeatedly, rocking your hips with the rhythm of his fingers. Bakugou’s eyes roam your body as he leans back from you, gaze immediately drawn to the bounce of your plush chest. With each thrust of his fingers, your body quivers, and he knows he won’t be able to last apart from you for much longer, regardless.

As his fingers slowly peel from you, a whine tears your chest wide open. Tears drip down over your cheeks, a mixture of emotion and erotica giving the sound much more conviction. Bakugou feels the reverberations of your voice in his chest, stirring him to brush your silken slick along the length of his cock, pumping his shaft a few times before repositioning himself above you.

Bakugou rolls his wrist so the tip of his dick butterflies your pussy lips. You pant at the exhilaration of it all, your cunt fluttering as he pulls himself away from you only to bring it all back. His teasing strokes make your head spin, eyes barely able to peel open to look up at him. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, and Bakugou leans forward to tug the muscle between his teeth, earning him an animalistic howl from the back of your throat.

The plea from you gives him the last push he needs to rut forward and claim you in one fatal stroke.

Your hands sink into him like hooks, eyes screwed shut as he starts to suck on your tongue. Bakugou’s breath spills over you like a wash of heat, sending a shudder down your spine. He uses his hands to grip you by the thighs, yanking you closer so your hips are flush as he sinks all the way into you all over again.

“Ka-” you can barely make a sound with the way his mouth has destroyed yours, suffocating you until you are lightheaded with the thought of him. As you struggle beneath him, Bakugou releases you in favor of leaning back to watch as his cock separates your walls and fills your cunt until it stretches to fit his thick girth.

You are a blubbering mess the moment he allows you space to breathe. Your hands can’t find enough of him to paint with your touch, nails dragging thin, angry red lines into his thighs, and your throat only knows how to say his name.

“Good girl,” he chuckles, watching you come undone beneath him, “I can’t wait to feel you come all over my cock.”

His dick is rutting into you at an impeccable pace, the tip of his cock brushing against your walls as he twitches from your tight pussy. Bakugou digs his fingers into the skin of your thighs, likely bruising them with the intensity of his grip, pushing your knees back until they are pressed against your chest so he can fuck into you from above.

You lick your lips, thin rivulets of drool seeping out of the corners of your mouth, “Please, Bakugou, I-I wanna come.”

The desire to rip your arousal from you until you cannot speak in full sentences gives him a fiery drive, his hips slamming into your ass as filthy words fall from his lips. You can feel his cock bottoming out within your cunt, thickening with each stroke of his hips as he grows closer to the end himself. You beg for his spend, for him to coat you until you are dripping with his seed, the mixture of your arousal and his pre seeping from your lips and furthering the wet sounds that echo whenever his balls slap against your ass.

“You wanna come on my cock, yeah?” he asks, voice dithering the longer he’s within you. You are begging him now, your back arched forward so you can seek him out with wide eyes and pleading palms. He soaks in the affections, your hands on his face and in his hair, your lips finding purchase on whatever part of his body you can reach.

A snarl makes his throat shake and, if possible, he rips into your even further, growling voice speaking into your ear as you fall back against the ground at the sheer force of his hips, “Then fucking come, slut.”

His words are all you need to push you into the next plane of existence, where a shattering orgasm racks your body. You convulse around his cock, the newfound tightness as you milk your own release pushing him over the crest as well. He drives his cock as deep into you as he can, your hips flush at the juxtaposition of your sex as he spurts up into your core. You feel the heat of his release, the twitch of his cock, and your limbs grow numb from effort.

Bakugou leans forward so he is balancing himself on his forearms, nosing over the swell of your chest and the column of your neck, small, chaste kisses littered over your skin like stars. He sighs, nudging your collarbone, “You’re not coming with me tomorrow. I won’t lose you too.”

Your heart sings at his admission, and your spirit wants to argue, but when he kisses you again, you can’t find it within yourself to tell him otherwise.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“All right, man,” Kirishima claps him on the back, leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway.

You can tell that there is much more he wants to say, but Bakugou has never had much patience for any sort of sappy confession, so all that passes between them is a nod of understanding. You, on the other hand, are careless in your affection, launching yourself forward to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him full on the mouth, uncaring for the onlookers unbeknownst to your time together.

When you pull away, there are tears in your eyes, but you force the words between your teeth regardless, “Don’t die on me.”

Bakugou’s eyes are sad, holding such a dark color in his usually bright irises, “A real hero always comes out on top, no matter what.”

Usually it is said with much conviction, but this time, it sounds like he is trying to convince himself more so than anyone else. Your hands palm over his face, committing him to memory one last time before he turns his back to you, headed towards the end of the line, unknowing as to which side he may end up on this time.

As soon as he steps out onto the pavement, he’s greeted with the familiar laughter of an old friend.

“Oi, Kacchan. It’s been too long.”

Your heart leaps into your throat and Kirishima has to hold you back, hidden away in the shadows. You look at him over your shoulder, eyes blown wide as your pupils swallow your irises, “H-He was supposed to be alone.”

The look in Kirishima’s eyes is haunting, a desolate gaze turned on his best friend. He tightens his jaw and breathes heavily through his nostrils, an answer never given as he watches on in horror at the scene in front of him unfolding.

“I thought I told you to get lost,” Deku speaks, voice confusingly innocent despite the feral look in his eyes. A cackle parts his lips and you’ve never seen Bakugou this quiet during a fight, “But, then again, wouldn’t a fight between the All Mighty Deku and a Quirkless Kacchan be entertaining?”

Your whole world turns sideways.

Bakugou’s words from the very beginning replay on loop in your mind as your breathing corrupts your own lungs, shattered and shaking as your body coats itself in sweat.

His breath hitches, “I-I’m not sure what the fuck possessed him to do what he did next, but he took-”

“Took what, Katsuki?” you ask gently, reaching to tug his chin back so he is looking down at you, “You can tell me.”

Bakugou Katsuki is quirkless.

Now more than ever you want to dart out into the street, to throw yourself down like a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter. Whatever it takes to keep Katsuki safe. Tears blur your vision and anger scars your heart, marring up the organ until you cannot feel it beating within your own chest.

Bakugou turns his head, vermilion eyes seeking you out in the darkness of the alleyway. He smiles, for the first time in full, and offers you one final look at his body completely intact before he returns his gaze to his childhood rival, hands turning to fists at his sides as he gets into his fighting position.

“So pathetic, Kacchan.” Deku looks Bakugou in the eyes as he ignites his quirk, green lightning dancing around as a storm begins to brew.

He holds up his hands, palms open-faced as his skin crackles, the sweet smell of saccharine turning to ash in the air. Colors of orange and yellow cast frightening shadows along the length of the street, a familiar power exploding on the cusp of Deku’s fingers.

“And now you die.”

a/n: i don’t think that went how anyone thought it would! it’s a lot different from anything i’ve ever done, and i’m not fully happy with it. but thank you for reading, if you got this far!!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #morgan writes bnha #my writing #bnharem #server collab #bnharem server collab

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constantlyunlightening · 4 years

Text

Glory

Day 8: Glory Hole w/ Enji Todoroki

Warnings/other kinks: anonymous sex (obvi), creampie, depression, a n g s t

Nobody asked for this. Nobody wanted me to write an angsty glory hole fic for a depressed, touch starved Endeavor but here it is anyway. Man, idk. Anyway, Endeavor is certainly having a redemption arch and is working on healing but I refuse to believe he ain’t depressed with the realization of his own actions. So. Have this.

Disclaimer: 18+ years or older to read. All characters are 20+ years. ALSO, sex work is sort of written as something shameful here but it’s not (just be safe ya’ll) but Enji is a very strict sort of guy and I was working in his voice a bit here.

What the hell was he doing here? Some hero he was.

Even with the baggy clothes, the mask and the hood dropped over his head, he felt like he stood out like a sore thumb. He was out of place - out of line. He was probably fine. Number one hero or not, under all the extra fabric, he’d be hard to pinpoint without the famous shroud of flames he always coated himself in. But, still, being at a seedy hook up place like this? It was so beneath him. It was so underneath the standards he usually held his pride and himself too. He was the very definition of a hero.

At least he used to think he was.

Nowadays he wasn’t so sure. He worked hard at his work - painfully and endlessly hard. And regardless if he had rightfully earned the spot or not, he was the top hero. But at what cost? A hero to the public but a villain to his own family.

Maybe a run down, shady place like this was exactly where he belongs.

Enji shifted his weight, feeling like he should back out now. This felt wrong. But his legs were heavy and refused to move. At least not until he heard the soft voice of a women who had slipped into the room, her face hidden by a white mask covering the bottom half of her face. “Your room is ready, sir. Remember, all of our girls are completely clean and anonymous, but if you have an issue with her, you’re more than welcome to ask to change,” she explained her voice a little too cotton candy sweet to be working in such hole in the wall place. Yet, here she was, leading Enji down the dimly lit hallway, the rooms filled with muffled moans and cries that made him question what he was really doing here.

Eventually the attendant brought him to a door at the end of the hallway and gestured for him to open the door as she gave an all too pleasant grin. “It’s all yours. Have fun.”

And with that, she was turning around and walking away as his eyes came to rest on the old silver knob of a door. What pathetic lengths he was stooping to. Maybe there wasn’t anything inherently bad about a place like this, a brothel didn’t necessarily scream heroic.

Although, he had been questioning what a hero actually was.

Sure, he saved lives day in and day out but what good was that when you couldn’t protect the ones you care about? When you realized you were the one who ruined the ones you care about?

With Allmight retiring and Enji’s long-consuming determination to best him ending with his hollowed victory, Enji was left with his thoughts more. No longer was he plagued by the desire to be number one, but instead he was haunted by the actions he had done to get there. And the fact that he had only became number one because Allmight had all but fallen was an even bigger kick in the gut. His rise was not one that felt like it was created by glory, but one that was shrouded with misdeeds and an empty win. He was trying to be better. He was trying to not just be the number one hero by title, but in his actions and ideology as well. He was trying to be a better person too.

No longer consumed with the drive to be the best, he now had the time to think about other things - feel other things than sheer determination. He felt regret. He realized he cared about something more than his work. He realized he cared more than he was used to. He wasn’t used to feeling so much. He wasn’t prepared to deal with the emotions he carried for his family- his kids - now that he could see them for more than just their power. He wasn’t prepared for the emotional weight of his damage to come crashing down on him.

If none of his children ever talked to him again, he was prepared to let them live on without him. He would face up to the consequences. But now with all that time to think, the mental toll was too much to bare. Regret, anger, depression, loneliness. He was dragged into the depths of it all, even as he kept the poker face facade as he went about his hero work.

He missed real human connection. He craved it.

But he had decided he didn’t actually deserve it.

That’s where this place came in. It was a physical reprieve at least. Here he could at least gain that human contact without the risk of creating another emotional burden on anyone else. It would serve as a stress relief as well as a point of contact in an attempt to regain a bit of the humanity in him - he felt like it had faded all to much.

He had steeled himself to work through it. But even the strongest man in the world had to bare with moments of weakness.

He would wake up with a sense of regret, he was certain, but for a brief moment, he would find temporary solace between the legs of a women he never met and would never meet.

So he opened the door revealing you.

Well, half of you anyway. You were halfway up the wall - hips and below only. You were pushed partly through a glory hole in the wall, your legs suspended by your ankles straight against the wall. You were a mounted animal - captured by a hunt and put on display. He almost felt bad for you. Did your legs hurt being in that position? Did you even want to be here? He was assured that all the women here were here of their own volition but he had a nagging sense of guilt lingered within his gut.

It was his chance to leave but… despite his guilt, a more selfish instinct overcame him. If it wasn’t him it would just be somebody else anyway.

So he walked in and shut the door behind him.

If you heard his heavy footsteps into the room, he couldn’t tell by the parts of you that were showing. He made his way up until he was right before your presentation and hesitantly, a large hand traced over the inside of a suspended leg. Maybe his brain was telling him this was wrong, but the second he felt how soft you were under his calloused hands, he knew he had lost the willpower to leave.

When was the last time he had even touched something so soft? An emotion he couldn’t quite place bubbled up inside of him. His heart panged and he felt like he was about to cry. Utterly ridiculous. But it was true all the same.

“Pretty,” a whisper escaped him, one he didn’t think you’d be able to hear through the walls, but your leg seemed to twitch under his touch all the same. He would have wondered what you were thinking about but he was too preoccupied with the urge to let his lips follow the path of his hand, starting at your calf with gentle kisses, relishing in the warmth radiating from you. His kisses moved lower, lower, and he felt like he could get lost in the physical feel of it. It felt insanely intimate but he knew it was an illusion brought on through the loneliness that had pitted into his stomach. Attachment grown from desperation. He was paying you. He didn’t know your name or who you were. He couldn’t even see you face. This wasn’t the time to be feeling intimate, this wasn’t the time to be feeling anything other than base urges.

He came to this exact place to keep himself separated - detached. Your plush skin may be sucking him in but he refused to forget himself. No matter what thoughts he had during the act.

He resteeled himself. Fuck, don’t feel. And with that, he was pulling his lips off and instead focused on drawing himself from his pants, wrapping his hand around the base of his erection. Apparently those simple touches and the sight of you splayed before him was enough to get his body craving more. And he acted on it.

The brothel you worked for already had you well lubed up for him - it was something about letting the customer get right down to buisness…..

However, when Enji finished prepping himself, he still heard the shocked yelp of a sound you produced from behind the wall as he pushed himself into you. The number one hero had the accommodations to match his size in any case, and he could tell you were feeling it, even without seeing your face. Your body clamped down on the intrusion so tightly he could have came on the spot. He couldn’t remember how this felt either. It was mind-numbingly good. It was good he couldn’t see your face because in his desperation and newly found emotions, he may have fallen for you on the spot.

Fuck, don’t feel. Fuck, don’t feel.

He wasn’t here to feed his emptiness. He was here to blow off steam. He needed to start acting like it or this whole endeavor would be pointless. It wasn’t mercy that kept him still inside you - he wasn’t letting you adjust. No, he was simply committing himself to a decision.

Fuck, don’t feel.

He felt you startle under the grip that wrapped around your calves, but he didn’t have time to give it much thought as he proceeded to wreck your insides. The feather soft kisses he had placed on your legs didn’t feel like they were from the same person who was now pounding into you like an animal, rattling the wall as your cries pierced through any sort of barriers between the two. He relished in each and every tremor you produced around his length as he sank himself into your velvety walls. So warm. He was the flame hero but you were the one burning him up as his hands bruised around your legs.

He ignored the way the voice screaming out made him want to see you even more. He could burn this wall down in a flash - finally have his moment of connection - but he forced himself to settle for pretending the cries you gave out were his name. No longer a scramble of whines and whimpers as he rutted into the wet body before him, but in his mind they were a chant of “Enji”.

The loneliness was going to drive him insane but for now he embraced the fantasy as his forehead pressed against the wall, taking in your echos as best as he could.

He was growling, straining his voice to not make a sound lest you recognize his voice. But he had to make some sort of noise. The way you wrapped around him was sinfully divine and his nerves were ignited with lust.

He was a more than a little twisted right now, but he was determined to leave a mark on you. He would never have to know what a monster he was, but he could still drive his imprint into you as if he were someone worth letting his impression linger.

Maybe he could make you feel a fraction of the stars he was feeling with your warmth. He could forget about his sins and focus on you, and the way you trembled and the way your voice peaked from behind the wall with a muffled - “more!” He would oblige. You could have asked the world of him and in this very moment, he may just try to fulfill it. More, he could do. More is what you got.

His hands danced lower, finally gripping at the center of open thighs as he hammered somehow faster still. The hero work, if anything, at least gave him a surpless of strength and stamina. The room appeared to be vibrating with the way the thin walls shook. And each time you seemed to tighten or squeeze around him, it just spurred him on, throwing his own senses into carnal lust. The sensation became to much for the woman in the wall to handle and Enji shuddered as he felt your orgasm strangle his cock and he couldn’t stop himself from forcing himself in deeper anyway until his balls were flush against your ass. He unloaded right into the heat he was holding tight against, letting you milk all he had to offer. Another point of connection, fluids mixing together and he felt a gross sense of satisfaction as he listened to the way you whimpered, felt your walls flutter against him in the afterwards.

He wasn’t here to make connections, but with the urge to hold close the woman he had shared his first contact with in how long- the urge to burn down this whole wall was even stronger now. He was going to have to leave to stop himself from making yet another mistake.

#enji todoroki #endeavor #bnha smut #bnha angst #kinktober #enji x reader

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jungle321jungle · 3 years

Text

Something Worth Stealing: One

“What do you think?”

Truthfully Virgil was terrified at the very prospect. There was a reason each nanny didn't last long, and Virgil had heard enough horror stories about the Ackroyd boys to avoid them at all costs when he had worked in the past. Hell the only reason he still got some to come in now and then was because the job was so high paying. Mr. Ackroyd knew exactly what he was doing advertising with all those zeroes, he was reeling in any nanny who would skip talking to peers at the sight. And now by some twist of fate that very bait was dangling above Virgil, and even worse there wasn’t anyway he could feasibly afford to ignore it. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked the man in the eye, “I think it is more than a generous offer that I would be happy to accept.”

(Virgil becomes the newest nanny for his very attracti- for Logan.)

Taglist: @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar @why-do-you-care @hogwarts-my-love

Ao3 - Masterlist

One

Virgil bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming out in frustration. He crossed the room briskly once more as he wondered- not for the first time, why was even here. Quite frankly Mr. Ackroyd should have fired him on the spot, so why was he just casually in the man’s office as if nothing was wrong? Was this a test? Leave him in the office full of expensive items to see if he’d be bold enough to try and steal one? That was the only way this would make sense, he was being tested and then if he passed maybe he’d only be fired rather than being sued or jailed. If it wasn’t that then maybe he was going to be made an example of. He’d be told off both here and in front of the rest of the staff later so no one would ever fall to Virgil’s level of stupidity ever again.

Virgil’s pacing slowed to a stop as he forced himself to take a deep breath. Now that he knew the two most likely options for the situation he’d need to practice and edit his apology six- no eight more times before his boss walked in. Mr. Ackroyd didn’t often show much emotion but maybe if Virgil repeated his sorries enough one would get through to the man and he would accept that Virgil had been more than an idiot.

“Virgil.”

The sound of his name sent a shiver up his spine as he jumped in place and turned eyes wide to where Mr. Ackroyd had entered. “Ah- hello sir...”

“Sorry, did not mean to startle you,” the man said simply as he moved to sit behind his desk. “Thank you for coming in early, and do take a seat.”

Virgil’s legs felt like led but he forced them to move forward and in what felt like robotic motions he sat. When he had Mr. Ackroyd spoke, “Now there is something I’d like to speak to you about.”

“I’m so sorry about yesterday!” Virgil blurted. “I should have never even touched your things, much less tried to steal it. I am so so so sorry! If there is any way I can make up for it-”

“While I did want to talk about my watch, and the apology is appreciated I do have a few questions.”

Virgil cut himself off and tried to regain his composure, “O-of course.”

“Why did you take my watch at all?” he asked simply. “You’ve worked here for years and I have never had an issue with you, and yet randomly yesterday you do something as out of character as attempting to steal from me. I assume there must be a catalyst for this behavior? A monetary one perhaps? Or was this just a sudden change in you?”

Virgil’s mouth felt dry as it opened and closed but with a pinch to his own leg he forced himself to function enough to speak. “It was semi spur of the moment- it had never crossed my mind to do something like that ever before! But it wasn’t me being ungrateful or anything! This job is great I just um, well I- I...” Virgil gave a sigh and let his head hang as his hands balled into fists with frustration at himself, “It-it was money related yeah... things are- are harder right now...”

“How so?”

Virgil took a deep breath trying to steel himself best he could before he spoke, his gaze on his boss’ desk rather than the man’s face. “My half sister has a kid, and she’s stuck in a really bad situation and needed her son out of it. So... so I took him in. And well great kid as he is, I’ve never had to pay for this much before. I truly am sorry.”

“And so you teach him to steal?”

“I’m sorry.”

The silence which covered the room was heavy, only broken by the sound of Mr. Ackroyd’s finger tapping on his desk which managed to increase Virgil’s heart rate more and more. But when the sound stopped entirely, Virgil couldn’t help but bring himself to look upon Mr. Ackroyd’s face. “Virgil I trust you understand I cannot have someone who steals from me cleaning my home.”

Virgil’s heart, his lungs, and everything else plummeted to his stomach with those words, and then they proceeded to keep falling until they landed at his feet, leaving Virgil with only an empty and hollow feeling. “I understand,” he replied quietly.

“As such I suppose it is a good thing that no one outside of this room knows what you have done.”

“Sir?” Virgil asked, he wouldn’t get his hopes up yet.

“I think I have a solution to both of our problems Virgil, that is if you never even consider stealing from me again.”

“Never,” Virgil said quickly.

Mr. Ackroyd gave a nod. “On your end I assume a bulk of what you make goes to different forms of child care given your early mornings at your other job and late nights here?”

When had he even mentioned to the man having a second job? “Y-yes, I pay for both before and after school.”

“I assume you have heard that my newest nanny quit?”

Virgil gave a slow and confused nod as he tried to get a read on that unchanged face, “Yes.”

“They come and go quickly,” he sighed, “My older two can be a tad unruly. But if you would like to alleviate your childcare costs and work one job rather than two, then you can become my nanny. And while caring for my boys you can also watch over your nephew. Oh and of course the salary is more than enough. What do you think?”

Mr. Ackryod gave a slight yet pleased smile, “Then I will see both you and your nephew here early Monday morning.”

“Y-yes sir.”

The large mansion seemed to loom over Virgil in a way it never had before, and yet all he could do was climb out his car and resist the urge to puke. There was just too much riding on a job which seemed destined to end in pitiful failure. He had been forced to quit his job at the cafe so suddenly too (not that he held any joy for that job), but if this went south quickly he had no fall back. Maybe he should start looking for new jobs when he gets home just in case?

“How long are we gonna stand here?” Janus yawned beside him.

“We’re going in now,” Virgil told him moving forward towards the door. And then before he could falter more he inserted the key he had been given in the lock and stepped in the entryway, to lock eyes with Mr. Ackroyd.

The man glanced up from the laptop in his hands before he shut it, “Twelve minutes early.”

“Good morning sir,” Virgil started awkwardly trying to resist the urge to ask how long his boss had been standing there waiting. “This is my nephew Janus. Janus, this is Mr. Ackroyd.”

“Hi,” Janus waved. “Do you have orange juice?”

“Janus.” Virgil cut in immediately, but Mr. Ackroyd gave a chuckle.

“My boys drank the last of it with breakfast. Would you like apple instead?”

“Yes please!”

He gave a nod, “Then let's get you your juice. Virgil, the twins are in their rooms, hopefully getting dressed. I’d like you to start by getting them and Patton together and then you can bring them all to school. As for how the rest of the day will go, simply return here and care for Patton and then pick the boys up from school in the afternoon. Have them do their homework until dinner, I should be back around then. As for the general both daily and weekly schedules I have shared the Outlook calendar with you so you may review it later today. Understood?”

Virgil hoped how intimidated he felt didn't show on his face. “Yes sir.”

“Then get moving.”

Virgil didn't hesitate to hurry up the stairs and head in the direction he knew, but it was the sound of laughter which drew him to one room in particular, and after a deep breath, he knocked.

“Come in!”

Upon entering Virgil knew he should’ve just looked for another job.

The room was virtually destroyed and the culprits were in the midst. The younger of the twins, Remus, was jumping on the bed swinging about a pillow and letting its tiny feathers fly around and coat the floor. Roman meanwhile spun himself and the baby around in the falling feathers causing Patton to cackle with delight. But the older two looked his way as he entered.

“Hi Virgil!” Remus yelled. “Dad said you’re our new nanny!”

“Yeah...” Virgil said slowly, still recovering from the shock. “He also says you two need to get dressed for school.”

“In a sec!” Roman replied, raising Patton over his head.

“No, now,” Virgil tried stepping into the room. “You’re going to be late if not.”

The twins paused each watching him for a moment, before they looked at each other then back to Virgil once more. “We don’t wanna go to school,” Remus said finally.

Roman nodded in agreement, “We’re gonna be homeschooled now.”

“No you’re not. Your dad said-”

“Hey Virgil, why aren't you a housekeeper anymore?” Remus asked, hopping off the bed. “I liked when you cleaned my room, I don't lose things when you clean it.”

“T-things change,” Virgil replied awkwardly. “But where are your clothes?”

Remus gave a vague gesture towards the closet, “I don't need clothes to be homeschooled. I can do it in my PJs.”

Virgil bit his tongue as he watched the two, but slowly an idea formed in his mind. “Do either of you know how homeschooling even works?”

“Yup. You get to do worksheets and hang out,” Roman answered. “We can do them while we watch TV.”

“Not exactly. We would do lectures and then worksheets for every class probably in the library all day. Given I’m not a teacher it would take longer to go over everything so the only break would be lunch. We also wouldn't have time for watching TV or for recess, and of course you can’t see your friends.”

Roman gave an awkward cough as he shoved Patton into Virgil’s arms. “Well I guess we’ll have to go to school until you learn how to teach.”

Virgil held in a sigh of relief as the two began the motions of getting ready which let him dress the Patton. But by the time he had gotten Patton to keep on his socks rather than throw them away he had heard shouting from downstairs. So with no other option he picked up the baby and followed the sound, but his anxiety grew as he heard Janus’ voice.

“Take it back!” Janus’ voice shouted and suddenly Virgil was moving much quicker.

“You first!” Roman yelled back.

“You!”

That was the last clear word Virgil could make out, but then again words weren’t needed to explain anything when he walked in to find his nephew on top of Roman grabbing the other boy’s face. A curse escaped his mouth as he hurried forward pulling Janus away by the collar only for Roman to jump up and lunge after. He tried to position himself before the two feuding children and to think of a better solution, but with Patton having grabbed a fistful of his hair, and Remus chanting behind him for Janus to win it was kind of hard to focus on anything.

“I believe my instructions were to introduce yourselves.”

Mr. Ackroyd’s cool voice cut through the room’s chaos in an instant sending ice through Virgil’s veins. He hadn’t even managed to be a nanny for an hour and now he would be fired. He’d probably set the record.

“Are you leaving?” Remus asked like nothing was wrong.

Mr. Ackroyd studied the room for a moment before he moved closer to Roman and bent down. Taking his son’s face in his hands. “I am. But more importantly, Roman I see no reason to continue to pay for you to take karate if you get hit in the face.”

“It's his fault not mine!” Roman said at the same time Remus unhelpfully added,

“I didn’t get hit! And Sensei said I can get a new belt soon.”

“Flying up the ranks are you?” Mr. Ackroyd smiled at him as he stood and moved over to Janus and squatted down to the boy’s height. “Can you tell me why you hit Roman?”

As Virgil released his nephew’s collar, Janus moved a step behind Virgil before he answered the question, “He... he said my name was an old lady’s.”

The man gave a hum, “I see. Now while that was a mean thing for him to say, using your fists won't fix the issue. You need to use your words, okay?”

Janus gave a nod, “Okay... sorry.”

“Not to him,” Virgil put in. “And you need to say what for.”

Janus gave a frown but even so he turned to Roman, “Sorry for hitting you.”

“Roman?”

The older twin crossed his arms and looked anywhere but at Janus’ face, “S...sorry for making fun of your name.”

“Good,” Mr. Ackroyd nodded. “Now give me a hug so I can go to work. And Virgil before you leave, be sure to grab Roman an ice pack.”

Virgil gave a nod of bewilderment and disbelief, “Yes sir.”

While Roman and Janus didn’t seem to get along from the outset, somehow not long after getting in the car, Remus and Janus had decided they were now some of the closest friends. Not that Virgil would complain of course, if they were getting along that was good for him, even if Roman sat in a moody silence for a while. But said silence broke when Janus had been dropped off. It wasn’t ten seconds after the driver had pulled off that he spoke to his twin, “Why’d you take his side?”

Virgil looked behind him at the sound of Roman’s voice in time for Remus to give a shrug. “He’s fun.”

“He hit me!”

“And that was your fault.”

Virgil was about to let them bicker and talk things out amongst themselves when Remus’ appearance caught his eye. “Remus that’s not your uniform tie.”

Remus nodded in agreement, “It’s fish shaped.”

“I can see that, but you’re supposed to wear the one that goes with your uniform.”

“That one is boring.” He looked between Virgil and the strange tie (why did kids even need to wear ties?). “Do you not like it?”

“It’s certainly... different. But I think you should wear the other one.”

“But I wanna show my friends this one.”

“Then you can take it out when you get to school. For now please change it.”

Remus gave a groan and sunk in his seat, but ultimately the nine year old did as he was told.

~~~

After the chaotic start to the morning, the mansion seemed so quiet and calm when Virgil returned. He half expected chaos to descend as the time wore on, but caring for Patton wasn't as hard as he had anticipated. The ten month old was not only adorable but he was pretty good in the sense that he didn’t really seem to cry or complain. He simply played with his little toys and babbled at Virgil (who took multiple pictures and videos to send to Mr. Ackroyd). He had been nervous at first. His only experience having taken care of a baby being those off times his sister had dropped Janus off for a night. But he had made it through the day without anything going wrong. So of course it did in the car.

He and the driver had gone and picked up Janus without issue. He had climbed in the car and instantly began talking about his day in the loudest voice he dared so not to wake Patton. It all seemed fine, until they picked up the twins.

“All day all I got were people asking me what happened to my eye!” Roman whined. “And it’s your fault!”

Janus gave him a bored look as he gestured to the scar on his face, “You get used to it.”

If the shouting which ensued was any clue, Roman didn’t care for Janus’ statement. Virgil was half turned around in the front seat as he tried to beg them to quiet down, but it was too late as Patton woke up, bursting into tears as he did. Not that the older three children seemed to notice. They carried on yelling at one another and reaching across the seats to grab a hold of one another.

“That’s enough!” Virgil interjected. “You two need to-”

“I need to kick him!” Roman interrupted.

Janus stuck out his tongue in reply, “And then I’ll kick you back three times as hard!”

“Oh yeah? Then I'll punch you!”

“I’ll just-”

“Shut up!” The harsh and loud words were out of Virgil’s mouth before he could stop them but he certainly didn’t regret it. “Roman,” he started firmly. “You will get along with Janus. And Janus you will get along with-”

“But he-”

“I don't care and I don’t want to hear it! I’m not asking for your opinions, I'm telling you what’s going to happen. The three of you are going to get along without fighting and arguing how starting right now. This pointlessness has already cost you all your electronic privileges for the evening, and if it continues more things will be taken away.” He paused and looked in each of their eyes before he spoke again. “Is that clear?”

Three identical looks of confusion and surprise stared at Virgil before each of the boys mumbled an agreement and after some probing an apology too. When they had Virgil gave a satisfied nod, “Roman calm Patton.”

“Where do you two usually do your homework?” Virgil asked after the twins had changed.

“Wherever we want,” Remus shrugged. “Can we do it in-”

“You can do it in the library,” Virgil decided for them. “Do you all have lots of homework?”

“Lots of reading,” Roman groaned as they walked. “And the book is bad!”

“Then read it quickly.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Are you sure?”

“Uncle Virgil will you help with my fractions again?” Janus asked him. “I still don’t get it. I don’t like it either.”

Virgil gave a slight smile as he ruffled Janus’ hair. “Of course I’ll help.”

Homework time went surprisingly well. It seemed since Virgil’s outburst in the car the boys were trying to be on their best behavior. But he wouldn’t complain about that. Instead he gave the boys help on anything they needed while he ate crackers and bounced Patton in his lap.

“This is the quietest I think homework time has ever been.”

At the sound of his voice everyone turned to see Mr. Ackroyd. There was a pause before Roman was out of his seat and hurrying to give his father a hug. “You’re home early!”

“I am,” he smiled hugging his son. “My meeting was moved until tomorrow. So I’m here early.” When Roman didn’t release him, he awkwardly maneuvered to the table to pull Remus in for a hug as well. “How were they?” He directed at Virgil.

Virgil paused, “They were... they were good. Especially Patton.”

Mr. Ackroyd gave a laugh as his boys released him and he reached for the baby. “For some reason, I wasn’t particularly concerned about him.”

“How were they, really ?” Mr. Ackroyd asked as he walked Janus and Virgil to the door.

Virgil gave a slight smile, “Well today was certainly chaotic , but I managed. It took me losing my temper though.”

“And that’s fine. I find my previous nannies were afraid to be stern with the boys. In one day you have found that doesn’t work. As such you have already exceeded my expectations.”

“Um, thank you sir.”

He nodded once, “Tomorrow we can talk in more detail for now enjoy your evening.”

“You too. See you tomorrow sir.”

“Logan,” he said simply. “We’ll be working closer together now.”

“Oh, um are you sure?”

“I’m the one who suggested it.”

Virgil looked down slightly in embarrassment, “Right. Um okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Oh, and you may call me by my name too Janus.”

Janus gave a smile and wave as they walked out, “Bye Logan!”

~~~~

One - Two

#boss and employee #analogical #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #Janus Sanders #patton sanders #kid!remus #kid!roman #kid!janus #worth stealing

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aotxfan · 3 years

Text

Shatter (Historia)

Summary: Historia decides to leave her female lover in order to marry a man that can protect her and give her an heir.

“I think it’s best if I marry someone else.”

The Queen’s voice was neutral, devoid of emotion, and the soldier froze in her seat.

Her entire body had frozen in shock and her mind had stopped processing. The hand that had been holding her spoon lost its grip and the teacup rattled as it fell in. Openly staring at the Queen with her mouth agape, the soldier could only get out a pathetic “What?”

Sitting across from her, Historia sighed. Her shoulders slumped and she looked away as if the sight of the soldier was too much for her to bear. Her hands began to rub together, a nervous habit she had yet to break, and she sought solace in the gesture. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet.

“The more time I spend as Queen, the more I begin to realize that my time here isn’t assured. For now the military has seen fit to follow me, but I don’t think they’ll be fine doing this forever. Over time they will want more, and it may become dangerous for me. I wouldn’t put it past them if they decided one day to feed me to Eren to unlock the Founding Titan’s abilities with my Royal blood. Every second that this war rages on, my safety is in danger.”

The soldier blinked and tried to digest this information. The words repeated over and over again in her mind before she could even begin to make sense of them.

Slowly, she clenched her fists tightly in her lap. Her throat worked as she tried to figure out what to say.

“How-How will marrying someone help you?”

Historia looked away towards the window pensively. She was quiet for a long time before finally answering.

“If I marry someone, I can have children with them. Children that will carry Royal blood and assure the future of Eldia. Carrying a pregnancy will also protect me from being used in some scheme for at least nine months,” she closed her eyes, “It’s not ideal, but I have no other choice.”

“So that’s it?”

The soldier closed her eyes and tried to ignore the way her chest had begun to hurt. She tried to sound composed, relaxed, but her heart was shattering to pieces and she had no idea how to keep it together. No amount of military training in first aid had prepared her for the pain of a broken heart.

Historia said her name softly, under her breath like a secret, and bit her lip. “I don’t have a choice.”

Her voice was a quiet plea and her blue eyes desperately sought the soldier’s gaze.

The soldier leaned back in her chair and refused to look her way. It was much too painful to look in her direction. She had a feeling that, if their eyes were to meet, she’d break down.

“Don’t-”

Historia repeated her name again just as softly as before. This time, her hand reached forward-

And the soldier moved away before their hands could touch. The queen’s hand met with empty air and froze in place.

The soldier drew herself in tight seeking to shield herself and bring herself some semblance of comfort.

“And I can’t give that to you, right?” The soldier dug her nails into her palms, “I can’t give you a child. I can’t even give you my last name. The only thing I can offer you is my heart, but that won’t ensure yours keeps beating.”

Historia’s breath hitched and her hand fell back towards her lap.

“Your heart is all I’ve ever wanted. I’m not doing this because I want to-"

The soldier pressed her lips together. Her eyes began to burn and she bit down hard on her cheek in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. The last thing she wanted was to lose her composure in front of Historia.

In truth, she had always expected this moment would come. While Historia had been happy to let a relationship between them bloom, the world had not. It had only been a matter of time before it conspired to tear the two apart.

As a Queen, Historia had many burdens placed upon her shoulders. Her fate was not her own and her womb belonged to an entire nation. Her responsibility was to bring about a new generation, and the next monarch would have to be birthed at some point.

They had both known Eldia would one day come to collect that which was owed, but they had never imagined it would be so soon.

Foolishly, the soldier had hoped they would have more time. Their relationship had only just started. They had only had three years together which wasn’t enough for either of them.

Not even a lifetime would have been enough for their love to burn, so how could three years possible do it justice?

“I know,” the soldier closed her eyes tightly, “I know. We both knew this would happen, ‘Ria. We knew this couldn’t go on forever.”

The Queen rubbed her hands together again, and the soldier realized they were shaking. The urge to reach out and offer her comfort was overwhelming, but she managed to resist. Were she to touch Historia now, she knew it would only be harder to walk away.

“I just need to have a child. Just one. I can marry someone and have a child then be done. After that maybe we can-”

Historia cut herself off. Even to her, the words sounded hollow. It was evident neither believed them, so the rest of her words died in her mouth.

The soldier knew their story didn’t have such a simple solution. Marriage was a binding contract and parenthood an eternal partnership. Historia couldn’t just use a husband for a child then rid her hands of him.

No, once she married, her fate would be sealed. The new King would own her forever, and he would take her as his own.

The soldier flattened her hands against her lap to keep them from shaking.

“You aren’t asking for my opinion,” she blinked away her tears, “You’re telling me this is going to happen. Have you already found your partner?”

Another pause.

This time, Historia let out a shaky breath.

After years of practice, she was good at keeping a regal composure, but the soldier had always been able to see through the illusion. The intimacy and feelings they both shared allowed her a glimpse into her true feelings. Even if Historia seemed composed to the naked eye, she could still sense the agony that lingered beneath her skin.

This situation hurt her love as much as it pained the soldier.

After a long time, Historia answered.

“I have. He’s a man I knew from my childhood. He used to try to get me to play with him and pay attention when we were kids, but I never really paid him any mind. I chose him because he doesn’t have the noble status to threaten me and because I can trust his sincerity.”

She continued to explain away her decision, but the soldier had long ago stopped listening.

I chose him.

The sentence echoed in her mind and her heart gave another painful lurch in her chest.

Historia had chosen him. She had chosen him over her and the reality throbbed like an open wound.

Despite the years they had shared together, the love that beat in both their hearts, she had made her decision. She had chosen a man she hadn’t seen in years over the woman that had swore to give her, her heart for her to hold, to love-

And to break.

Standing up suddenly, the soldier spun away.

“Please, stop,” her heart began to race, “Just stop.”

Stop talking, and stop breaking my heart. Can’t you see it’s already in a thousand pieces?

Historia called her name again, and the sound brought a new wave of tears to her eyes.

She would miss it, she realized, miss the way her love said her name. After she left this room, the quiet sort of intimacy that was between them would be broken. They would have to assume a persona of Queen and Soldier. From then on, Historia would only refer to her by rank and last name. She would never again utter her first name unless a formal decree followed.

“You don’t have to go on, your majesty, you’ve made your choice-”

Now Historia was standing up. For the first time, her composure visibly cracked. Her blue eyes began to fill with tears, but she held them back with what little strength she still had.

“It’s not my choice!” She slapped her hands to the table and the teacups rattled at the impact. “If it were my choice I’d choose you over and over again-”

“Except this time,” the soldier still refused to turn around.

Historia bowed her head and her shoulders shook with the effort of holding in her tears. A Herculean task, she almost sank to the floor. The table alone held her up even as she felt her world shattering around her.

The soldier drew in a quiet breath and raised her head to the sky as if in prayer. She hoped that whatever deity presided over star crossed lovers would intercede now. Perhaps a God or Goddess that bore witness to their exchange would take pity and turn her into a man. Maybe as a man she might be allowed to love the woman behind her.

When no divine intervention came, she lowered her head and the first tear fell down her cheek. Her fingers reached to brush it away before Historia could hear her sob.

“If this is goodbye, then just dismiss me. Let me go-”

Historia sank to her knees and the tears she had previously held back began to fall. As if a dam had broken, they fell one after another and landed on the surface of the table. She closed her eyes with her fists as if she could stop them from coming.

“I don’t want to say goodbye. I want you, I want to marry you. If I could choose, I’d choose you over and over again.”

Desperately, she reached out to the soldier. Her hand managed to snag the back of her cloak, and she let her head fall against her turned back.

The soldier flinched and turned rigid. An instinct made her reach behind her to try and offer some comfort-

But her mind made her lower her hand before she could touch her.

The last thing they should do was touch, she knew. After all, if she had a chance to hold Historia in her arms again, she might never let go again.

Carefully extracting herself from the Queen’s grasp, she turned around. A mask fell over her features and she held her head up high.

“Allow me to take my leave, your Majesty. The hour grows dark.”

She tried to keep her voice as formal as possible and tried to keep the white hot agony coursing through her at bay.

Historia buried her face in her hands.

“Don’t-please-”

The soldier tried again. This time, her voice sounded more detached.

“Please allow me to take my leave, your Majesty. The hour grows dark.”

At her feet, the Queen sniffed. The tears continued to fall, but she had given up on wiping them away.

“You have my heart, you know that. My heart is yours for the rest of my life. The future King will have my womb, but I am yours until my last breath-”

“Please allow me to take my leave, your Majesty. The hour grows dark.”

The soldier refused to look down and kept her gaze trained on the door. She hoped she could manage to at least walk outside before she collapsed. Her heart was already in pieces and her ears were roaring with the effort of remaining upright.

The room grew quiet once more and Historia dropped her head. She sniffed a few final times before standing up. Dusting herself off, she bit her lip.

Her persona as a Queen snapped into place and she tried to ignore the way her hands shook as she gave a single nod.

“You are dismissed,” she voiced.

The soldier looked past her towards the door and gave a crisp salute. As her fist pressed to her heart, she imagined herself holding the remnants of its shards in place to keep them from being left behind at Historia’s feet.

Her movements were robotic, formal, and she drew strength in the strict protocol. From now on, there would have to be an invisible wall of decorum between the two of them. The previous emotions they had once held for each other would have to be killed and buried.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” she bowed her head.

As she moved past Historia, the soldier swore she saw the Queen’s hand reach for her once more. As if by some desperation, Historia had intended to stop her from walking away. Perhaps she had regretted her choice and changed her mind-

But, in the end, the love for her country won over the love for her soulmate. The hand reaching for her stopped midway and returned to her side. The previous agonized look on her face disappeared and was replaced by the carefully guarded expression she always wore in public.

The soldier refused to look back as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Once outside in the hallway, the last of her composure shattered and she slid down the door. A waterfall cascaded down her face and she clasped her hand to her mouth to quiet her sobs.

Her head bowed and she squeezed her eyes shut. Agony coursed through her and she wished she could claw out her heart and free herself of the pain. Her hand moved to her chest and she pressed down as if she could somehow mend the organ she was certain was now torn in two.

And as she clutched her heart, she was certain she could hear Historia’s own shattering through the wood.

#attack on titan #historia x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 4 years

Text

Knowing

I debated posting this, I wrote it at the arsecrack of dawn but it seems to have broken my block, for now anyway and I started a new WIP 🤣 yeah I know I see all my other ones crowding behind me, glaring.

Anyway this is just a quick Poe Dameron x Reader one shot.

Warnings: mention of war, death, loss and grief.

‘That is the most outrageous, nerfherder brained idea I’ve ever heard!’ You threw your hands up as you glared at the smug faced pilot across the table from you. The holomap distorted his features but he was definitely being a smug arsehole. Karabast you hated him! Strutting around here, the Poster Boy of the Resistance. This man got away with everything, he eased himself out of every scrape like it was nothing.

‘Captain….’

‘Utterly ridiculous thinking you can just fly out there undetected….’ You stupid son of a…...

‘Captain….’

‘You may think you're the best pilot in the fleet but one day your recklessness is going to get you killed!’

‘CAPTAIN!’ Leia Organa’s commanding voice finally cut through your yelling and you lowered your gaze. Everyone in the command centre was staring at you after your sudden outburst, no one expected it from you, you never went against your Squadron Leader. You never raised your voice to anyone, not even people you hated, like Poe Dameron. But today was different, you weren’t sure why, maybe you’d had enough of worrying about him getting killed. Maybe the war had finally taken so many people from you that you couldn’t bear the thought of losing anymore. Even though you hated him.

‘I suggest you take a walk.’

‘Yes ma’am.’ You shot one last look at Poe before skulking away and finding somewhere to stew in private. With a sigh you threw yourself onto your bunk and not for the first time you caught yourself wishing you’d never been caught up in this stupid war. It was wearing you down, ripping your soul with every loss. Soon, there would be nothing left of you or any of the fleet for that matter the First Order was tearing you apart time and time again. The ships needed repairs, the fleet needed fuel, food supplies were low and Resistance members were flagging, your outburst wouldn't have helped. People looked up to you, you were their Captain, they needed your courage and strength…..but you were so tired. So tired of carrying all that weight around with you. You wiped your face and realised it was wet, you hiccuped a soft sob at the sight. You never cried, this was new. The door to your room slid open but you ignored it as you faced the wall hoping Jess would eventually leave you alone.

‘You know, as your Squadron Leader I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that.’

‘Piss off Dameron.’

‘Seriously, Leia sent me here to give you a talking to because that was very out of character for you….’

‘I said. Piss. Off. Dameron.’ You couldn’t control the waver in your voice as you grit your teeth hoping he would get the message. The mattress dipped by your feet and you rolled your eyes wishing he would just fuck off.

‘I heard that eye roll from here Captain.’

‘Well Commander you know where you can shove it.’

‘Whoa whoa, I don’t understand what’s happening here? Why has my best and most trustworthy Captain suddenly become possessed?’ You closed your eyes, the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm you and you wished again that he would go away. Of all the people on the base you did not want to fall apart in front of pretty boy Poe Dameron. You flinched slightly as he placed a hand on your side. ‘It’s taking it out of all of us.’ The weariness in his tone took you by surprise and you risked turning over to look at him. The hollow expression on his face shocked you the most, all his barriers were down and for the first time ever you saw the toll this war was taking on him too. ‘I don’t know how much more we can take, but we have to keep fighting. We have to keep going. We are down to the bare bones of the Resistance, now more than ever we should not give up.’

‘How do you do it?’ His brown eyes locked with yours his hand tensing on your side.

‘Keep going?’

‘Because you never seem like you're suffering.’ He laughed loudly, shaking his head.

‘Is that really how it comes across? Like I’m not suffering?’ You nod, your eyes wide as you sit up slowly. ‘Ok. Shall I tell you a secret?’ The tone in his voice made you think he was going to tell you anyway. ‘I do suffer, every single minute of every single day I suffer. I have lost family, friends, I have the deaths of so many people on my hands. They may be on the ‘other side’ but they are still people! Every mistake, every press of that button I make costs a life.’ He paused and you knew he was referring to the battle above D’Qar. His recklessness had cost the fleet dearly but had also won them a great victory. You and everyone in your Squadron had been behind him that day. You stared at the man sitting on your bunk, his tense shoulders and sad eyes, this was not the Poe Dameron that strutted round the base chatting up people and spreading general cheer everywhere he went. This man was broken, just like you. ‘I’m sorry,’ you whispered. ‘I had no idea…’. ‘No one does. It’s like my super power, aside from flying of course.’ The ghost of a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth and you nudged him gently with a boot. ‘I give you a run for your credits.’ He snorted softly as he pulled his fingers through his dark curls. ‘Don’t tell anyone else.’ He mumbled. You went to nudge him again but he batted your foot away before getting up out of your reach. You stood up and wiped your face rubbing the tears off until he grabbed your hand, his finger lacing with yours.

‘Don’t ever be ashamed of feeling. It’s what makes us who we are.’ Your gaze rose to meet his and your breath hitched slightly as you realised there was a fine line between love and hate. His brown eyes gazed at you as his knuckles gently rubbed your cheek before he stepped away and opened your door with a mock bow. ‘After you my Captain.’ You did a silly curtsy in return and took his outstretched hand, he grabbed you and spun you out the door. A laugh erupted from you as Poe grinned that mischievous smile whenever he was lifting someone else’s spirits. A little breathless and a little giddy from your sudden change in emotion you looked at him wishing with all your heart things were different. He placed an arm around your shoulders and you easily fell into step with him. Your eyes met again as you reached the hangar and you felt like you wanted to tell him, you needed to explain why you had got so emotional earlier. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. He pulled you to him in a rough one armed embrace and planted a swift kiss on your forehead. ‘I know.’ He said gruffly before releasing you and heading to his X-wing.

He knew.

You knew.

And that had to be enough.

#poe dameron x reader #just a one shot #some musing #breaking the writing dam #writers block breaker #poe dameron angst #poet dameron fluff #sassy reader #Commander dameron #poe dameron #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #my writing #mylifeisactuallyamess

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deathmaycome · 3 years

Text

DEATH HQ / 5TH APRIL / SELF PARA (ft. Uriel)

“No one fights dirtier or more brutally than blood; only family knows its own weaknesses, the exact placement of the heart. The tragedy is that one can still live with the force of hatred, feel infuriated that once you are born to another, that kinship lasts through life and death, immutable, unchanging, no matter how great the misdeed or betrayal.”

- How to Make an American Quilt, Whitney Otto

The meeting of the Seraphim and their Horseman ends with one of their party having not spoken at all. As Uriel read the texts they’d received aloud, their glee almost perverse, May sat on the edge of her seat, a slight wrinkle of worry on her brow. The announcement that Charlotte Pinkett would be their only new recruit prompted no visible emotional reaction from her, merely leaning back in her chair with an air of unnerving calm. She remained silent and straight-faced throughout, nodding occasionally as she took her orders but lips firmly closed, cheeks slightly hollowed as she bit their insides. Jack looked at her expectantly as he rose to leave, and it was only then that she spoke her first words of the night. “You go ahead. He and I just need to discuss something.” If Jack was concerned or confused by this, he didn’t show it, and left obediently with a short nod.

May’s dark eyes meet those of her friend, her sibling, her Horseman, holding their gaze long after the door clicks shut. Under the green lights of his office, the hush between them is eerie. They have often sat quietly together, at ease in the other's company, but never like this. They knew why she was there, of course. Save perhaps Gwen, he knew her better than anyone. Even if she hadn’t come to him days before with an impassioned appeal, he would have known why she didn’t speak, why she lingers there looking rigid and cold. She tilts her chin slightly, defiant. They are both stubborn, but she will not blink first.

“What is it, exactly, that we need to discuss?” They relent, cowing under her unblinking gaze. Good. She knew that she never had the upper hand when it came to him, but she also knew that she was the only one he'd ever break a silence for, and that was close enough for her. The illusion of an upper hand was better than nothing, for now, and she lets the bitter satisfaction fuel her as she crosses her legs, jaw set.

“Well, for starters, I think you’re a stupid prick. Let’s discuss that.”

“May-”

“No. Shut up. Just shut the fuck up for once.” Her voice is as sharp as the glance he throws back at her, two knives sparking as they clash, but he complies, folding their hands across their lap as an indication that she should continue. “Since I’ve met you, you have made some insane choices. You’ve come up with some batshit, hare-brained schemes that would’ve sent most people running for the hills, but I’ve supported you regardless. I’ve had to justify some truly fucked up things to people because of you. I’m reminding you of all this so that when I tell you that inviting Charlotte Pinkett to join us is the most irresponsible, idiotic decision you have ever made, you really understand the gravity of what I’m saying.”

No one else would have noticed the spark of surprise behind Uriel’s eyes, but she did. She had criticised him before of course, it was a part of her job as Seraphim, but never quite this brashly, with this much venom. The shock was fleeting, however, quickly masked by the blank cavas she was so used to.

“Charlotte Pinkett is an asset, and through acquiring them we have acquired Pestilence,” they say, pressing the tips of their fingers together. At her responding eye roll, he raises a single eyebrow. “I think we both know the real reason that you don’t approve of this.” May bristles at the suggestion.

“That’s nothing to do with it. I don’t agree because it’s a shit decision.”

“Oh?” There is something bordering dangerously on amusement in his voice, and she hates him for it. “What exactly would you have done differently?”

“Oh, now they ask.” She throws up her hands dramatically, gesturing to an invisible audience as her sarcasm bites at the air between them. Spite burns in her eyes, her veins. Fucking hell it's so tempting to refuse him, to keep her ideas to herself. She stares them down for a moment, torn, but she can't resist it. They know she can't resist it. “I would’ve taken in Ky, Omer, and Amara; I would've blackmailed Pinkett. She’s the one with the most access to money and information, and she has the most to lose. How far do you expect threatening a Power and a couple of Angels is going to get us?”

“Further than taking them in would.”

“You’re wrong. We could get the exact same information from them by taking them in, and providing them with protection from the other gangs would have ensured their loyalty. They need our help the most, and we should be giving it to them. By blackmailing Charlotte, we could still have Pestilence in our pocket without opening the doors to one of our enemies and making them Seraphim.” Her thoughts flicker briefly to Sacha, who was going to have to watch yet another former member of Pestilence slip easily into the title he coveted. She certainly was not going to be the one to pass down that particular piece of news. There’s a pause as they survey each other, but then quickly, too quickly, she’s leaning forward, brow furrowed with sudden fury. "And for the record, I wouldn’t be telling War that they don’t have any traitors. You should lie to them and tell them that they do, then let Gabrielle Warden's two attack dogs rip the gang apart sniffing for rats."

“I see.” Their expression is unreadable; impossible to determine whether he is taking in her opinions or attempting to placate her with empty words. A bitter laugh escapes her, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t think you do, Uriel. What you’ve done undermines everything we’ve built, everything we’ve claimed to stand for.” May wrinkles her nose, suddenly disgusted. Whenever she had doubted them in the past, she had simply had to remember the gangly teenager who had spent hours looking after her, teaching her, and she had been reassured. As she looked at him then, she struggled to find the teenager she had so blindly followed. It disturbed her; more than that, it hurt her, and like a wounded animal, she was lashing out to disguise her pain. “You’re a joke. When did you lose sight of why we started this? When did you stop caring what I think? Was it as soon as that ninth zero appeared in your bank account? Did you decide to put your feet up and call it a fucking day?”

BANG. His hand striking the wood of his desk silences her tirade.

“Never accuse me of that again. Do you understand? Never.” Their features are contorted by rage; rage that May is used to seeing but not being on the receiving end of. She might have been afraid if she weren’t so pissed off. But there is something flickering beneath it. Hurt, perhaps. “I haven’t lost sight of anything, and I certainly haven’t stopped caring what you think. Your opinion matters to me more than anyone’s, you know that.”

“Yeah? Well, you have a funny way of showing it.” They sigh deeply at this, pinching the bridge of their nose in frustration.

“May, you are clearly emotionally compromised by this. I know you presented a case on Kyung-Soon’s behalf but-”

“Don’t.” The word feels like lead as it drops from her lips, heavy with guilt. “Don’t say her name to me. Don’t you dare. Not when you’ve effectively signed her death warrant.” Her body moves of its own accord, propelled by anger, heaving itself out of the chair and standing as far away from Uriel as possible. As she leans her back against his bookcase on the opposite wall, glaring from the shadows, it dawns on her that in spite of her wealth of experience in dealing with his stubbornness, there had still been a part of her hoping that she could change their mind. It’s setting in, that Ky’s fate is sealed, and yet May can’t help but push again. The unstoppable force to his immovable object. “She never would have chosen this life, I told you that. She’s not power-hungry or a family member, she got forced into this. Why can’t we help her?”

“She did not have enough to offer to us.”

“Oh who gives a SHIT what she offers?” Emotion breaks through the dam of her throat, spilling out over her tongue with force, voice hitching as it raises to a near-scream. He had always taught her not to behave like this, to remain composed, but in that moment she wishes she could erase every lesson he ever gave her. She closes her eyes and she can see it, all his imparted knowledge dissolving into nothing under a thick stream of bleach. “I asked you - practically begged you - to let me save her, but you royally fucked me over. And you know what? I could probably fucking deal with that, if it weren’t for the fact that by betraying me, you’ve made me betray her.”

“I didn’t ever promise you that we’d accept her.” They are patient, bordering on patronising. Their measured tone only makes her hate him more. It’s abundantly clear that in his mind, they are still speaking to the five year old who sits at his feet and absorbs their every word.

“No, you didn’t,” she admits, and she tips her head back, exhausted. Her eyes close with the effort of it all; their conversation, the gravity of what she has done. “But I thought you valued me enough to grant me this one thing after thirty-five years of undivided loyalty.”

It’s his turn to fall silent. The room reeks of their guilt, the air thick with it.

“Do you know what just kills me about this?” she asks, after a minute. She places her knuckles on his desk, leans into them. "I’m going to forgive you.” Her smile is sick, pained; self-loathing written across every line in her face. “Certainly not today, not tomorrow either, but I will. Because now that you’ve made me a liar to her, you are the only family I have left.”

Their stony impassivity is her only response, and she can’t help but scoff, reaching for her bag without second thought. It’s tempting to wait, of course, to watch them weigh up an apology or another explanation, but she doesn’t have the time to witness him wrestling with his ego. She has to get out from under that stupid fucking green lighting. She has orders to follow, and a wife to call, and a sister who she owes yet another face-to-face explanation to, this one even worse than the last. Standing to attention before her Horseman, May gazes down at him, full of contempt.

“I’m going to go and blackmail Amara Rowe, now. Next time you want to exploit a person who came to us for help, I suggest you ask someone else.”

By the time he opens his mouth to argue back, the door has slammed shut.

#self para #05.04.2021 #this one goes out to all the blackmail victims and angry deathies #may for horseman xoxo #sorry that this is unnecessarily long #she had a lot to say #this is absolutely not the best thing i've ever written but it's been in my drafts forever and i'm sick of looking at it

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