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animebw · 2 years

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Short Reflection: Fall 2022 Anime

Was Fall 2022 the single most stacked season of anime ever? It’s certainly a contender, at least. Not only were there once again far too many good shows to keep up with, not only were a lot of those shows really fucking good, but there was such a wide variety that no matter your tastes- shonen, slice of life, mecha, political drama, whatever the fuck Akiba Maid War counts as- you were basically guaranteed at least one phenomenal show to stay hooked on. And if you’re someone like me who appreciates pretty much every genre as long as it’s done well? Then my god, I hope you skipped lunch, because this feast never fucking ended. I’ve already given my thoughts on Yama no Susume’s underwhelming fourth season (6.5/10), Mob Psycho 100′s safe but deeply satisfying finale (8/10), and the bonkers roller coaster of Chainsaw Man (8.5/10), and there’s still way too many anime left to talk about. So without any further ado, let’s dive right in to the disappointments, the hidden gems, and the runaway smash hits that closed out this fantastic year for anime.

My Hero Academia Season 6: Unfinished/10

There’s not much I have to say about this one yet, as I’m planning to give it a full review when it’s all over. But I at least wanted to say this: I fucking told y’all My Hero Academia was going to reclaim its crown. I told y’all this show was eventually gonna earn its place back as one of the greatest long-running shonen of all time. But nooooo, you were all busy pretending that a few lackluster fight scenes meant this show was the worst garbage ever and handing out accolades to gorgeously animated pieces of stale cardboard like Demon Slayer for plastering pretty wallpaper all over the vapid nonsense at their core. Well, how does it feel now, huh? How does it feel to remember what an actual great shonen action series looks like? This is the best that MHA has been since season 3, and while it’s gonna fall to the next cours to determine where season 6 ends up on the pantheon, it’s so fucking good to see this show operating at full capacity again.

To Your Eternity Season 2: Unfinished/10

Genuine question: what the absolute fuck happened to To Your Eternity? I still remember when that incredible first episode dropped back in 2021 and everyone was ready to crown it the new patron saint of cry-inducing philosophical fantasy. How did we get from that to this? To increasingly hacky production values that rarely rise above passable and never once manage to capture the awe and wonder this story is so clearly shooting tor? To writing so tonally inconsistent it decides to introduce a cast of wacky over-the-top camera-muggers in this serious and serene fantasy yarn? Didn’t this show used to be good? Didn’t it used to be a genuinely compelling exploration of human nature and immortality and moving on from loss? When did it fall apart so badly that it barely even resembles the show it used to be? And that’s not even getting into some of the most abysmal queerbaiting I’ve seen in a very long time. There were definitely worse anime this year, but nothing else left me feeling so utterly betrayed. I can only pray the slight upswing of quality it’s experiencing in its current arc continues, because otherwise this is going to end up the most crushing disappointment of anime in 2022.

Reincarnated as a Sword: 3/10

Let us all stop for a moment and consider the absolute state of the isekai genre. Here we have yet another story of some personality-deficient schlub transported to another world that runs on JRPG logic, where he instantly becomes the most OP person (or, well, sword) around and never has to struggle for anything. The characters and setting are all as painfully generic as every other entry in the genre. The plot wastes so much time rattling off video game stats to justify its boring OP worldbuilding that it forgets to write any sort of interesting or nuanced personalities for the people in its world. The production values are passably okay without ever showing a single shred of personality beyond the most by-the-basics staples of this watered-down Dragon Quest backwash. There is nothing worth recommending here, nothing you can get from this show that you can’t get in a million better ways elsewhere. And yet, Reincarnated as a Sword has one thing going for it: it doesn’t try and justify slavery. In fact, its real protagonist is an enslaved catgirl who breaks free from her chains and seeks to prove her worth, with the titular sword serving as her paternal guardian. And that alone puts this dull, uninspired, pointless slab of processed anime loaf above a decent chunk of its contemporaries in the isekai genre. Because that is how fucking far the bar has been lowered at this point. God help us all.

My Master Has No Tail: 4/10

The frustrating thing about My Master Has No Tail is that there’s not really anything wrong with it. It’s a cute little historical anime about a tanuki girl learning rakugo from a fox spirit in a time of huge technological upheaval for Japan, a time when all the old spirits are at risk of losing their place in the world and must find some way to adapt to the new era alongside humanity. That premise should result in something really interesting, or at least unique enough for a mellow slice-of-life hobby show with a supernatural twist. And yet despite the lack of things to complain about, I just could not get on this show’s wavelength. It just doesn’t push far enough in any direction to be memorable; the animation is competent but also as basic as it gets, the characters are inoffensive but simple, the comedy is decent but rarely rises above a chuckle. Every single aspect of this show is just a little too underwhelming to really make an impact, and with nothing but average everywhere you look, the whole thing ends up kinda boring. I do like the themes it’s playing with, how art is used as a vessel for spirits and humans to keep their connections strong in an increasingly secular, industrialized world, but it’s not enough to bring this show up anywhere above harmlessly mediocre. What a shame.

Arknights Prelude to Dawn: 4.5/10

I find myself fairly conflicted about the first season of Arknights. On the one hand, it’s a relief to get a gacha game adaptation with some actual gravitas behind it, and the story of a post-infection dystopian world struggling between compassion and justice has some genuinely complex things to say about the morality of living through hellish situations. And its cinematic production ambitions ensure it’s rarely boring to look at. On the other hand, though, I get the sense that whoever was behind the script didn’t take into account the differences between what works narratively in a video game and what works in a TV show. Divorced from their role as an audience surrogate/POV who needs to be explained everything so the player can understand how to play, the mostly silent Doctor comes off as a nothing character who could be cut from the show without changing anything. Ditto the under-explained, underutilized tactical cell phone that probably only existed in the first place to justify how the game’s combat looked and functioned, and the dialogue that’s mostly a series of plot points taking us from one Important Setpiece to the next. I want to like what Arknights is doing, but it’s not until the shockingly great final two episodes that it starts to feel like a proper show and not just a lavishly animated cutscene compilation. Hopefully the second season continues that upward trajectory, and maybe then we’ll be able to call this a truly excellent gacha anime.

Do It Yourself: 5/10

Between this show and Healer Girl from earlier this year, I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I really need more than vibes to keep me interested in a show. Don’t get me wrong, vibes are good! But there’s a whole subsection of cute-girls shows that are basically nothing but vibes, and absent anything else to sink my teeth into, I find myself feeling very little connection to them. You’d think Do It Yourself might have a little more going on, what with its near-future setting, stabs at commentary on the importance of not letting automation fully run everything, and extremely gay undertones. But no, it’s mostly just cute girls doing DIY carpentry for twelve episodes. It’s a show for you to turn your brain off to and just, well, like I said, vibe to the expressive FLCL-esque art style and richly detailed guide to DIY carpentry with a bunch of intermittenly interesting characters. And while I can appreciate those vibes well enough, there’s so little intrigue to anything that I can’t really bring myself to care about it all that much. I dunno, maybe they shouldn’t have kept the one character who actually generates interesting narrative friction at arm’s length for nearly the entire show. And maybe they should’ve let Serafu and Pudding kiss. Actually, no maybes there, they definitely should’ve done that.

Play It Cool, Guys (1st Half): 5.5/10

Here’s a pleasant little surprise I don’t think anyone saw coming. Sure, this slice-of-life about a bunch of clumsy dudes navigating their own awkwardness isn’t gonna set the world on fire, but it’s become one of the more unusually absorbing short anime I’ve encountered in a while. I think what draws me to Play It Cool, Guys is that it’s just very unpretentious; it promises a chill twelve minutes every week of low-key sweet-natured comedy, and that’s exactly what you get. The punchlines aren’t amazing, but they pretty much always hit. The characters aren’t very complex or interesting, but they all carry themselves well enough that you enjoy seeing them on screen. It’s even got a certain kind of confidence to just be so low-key and not try to overextend itself with cheap gimmicks or recycled plot beats to grab your attention, because it trusts that its word and characters are charming enough to earn your investment on their own. And you know what? That confidence is not misplaced. It might not be my favorite thing in the world, but I have a sneaking suspicion it’s just going to keep growing on me as it moves into its second cours. Check back at the end of winter, and I might just end up giving it a much more enthusiastic recommendation.

Urusei Yatsura (1st Half): 6/10

Is there still a point to Urusei Yatsura today? Yes, Rumiko Takahashi’s groundbreaking rom-com about an alien girl falling in love with a philandering douchenozzle invented the anime rom-com as we know it, not to mention possibly starting waifu culture itself with Lum. But fifty years later, with all its component parts iterated upon by basically every romance-adjacent anime that followed it, does the original property have anything left to offer on its own merits? Or is it a relic of a bygone time, no longer useful as anything but a historical artifact for tropes and archetypes that have all been used better by the works it ended up inspiring? Halfway through this modern reboot, I’m still not sure what the answer to that question is going to be. What I can say for sure is that this show makes me laugh more often than it doesn’t, and while not all of it has aged gracefully, it’s oddly refreshing to see just how much more egalitarian the anime rom-com used to be. This is no incel wank fantasy where a loser guy gets all the hot girls by doing basically nothing; this is a show where everyone’s just a little bit nuts, and you’re not so much rooting for anyone to get together as you are just enjoying the chaos that results when all these different flavors of asshole butt heads. That’s far more my speed than any of the wish fulfillment harem slop that learned all the wrong lessons from Urusei Yatsura’s success. Whether or not it’ll end up anything more than a series of mostly amusing episodic sketches remains to be seen, but for now, I’m content to just watch the madness unfold. Plus, it’s got Hiroshi Kamiya and Mamoru Miyano sniping at each other like every episode, you can’t not love that.

Pop Team Epic Season 2: 6/10

Sometimes, you just need a little chaos in your life. That sentence probably sums up the appeal of Pop Team Epic better than anything else I could ever write. Sometimes, you just want to let loose on a stream of consciousness through utterly batshit comedy skits that switch tone and animation style on a dime, packed with references to countless things you’re only vaguely aware of, never quite sure if all this insanity has any kind of point or if the pointlessness is itself the point. Pop Team Epic is just fucking weird, y’all. But it’s the kind of weird that clearly comes from a group of talented people having a blast throwing anything and everything at the wall just because they can, not caring about whether any of it sticks or not because the messy, nonsensical act of creating the damn thing in the first place is reason enough for it to exist. What other show will give you a dating sim spoof, yaoi lesbians, legitimately great mecha action, a final fantasy parody, gratuitous violence, a live action flipbook segment, and a full-on tokusatsu show starring Aoi Shota as a time-traveling sentai hero, all in the space of 12 episodes? If that kind of memetic insanity is your jam, then you need to get this show in your eyeballs yesterday. Pop Team Epic makes no goddamn sense, and god bless it for that.

Spy x Family Part 2: 7/10

Does a show need a plot? Is it enough for it to simply wander through a bunch of random side quests and coast on charm alone? That certainly seems to be what Spy x Family is banking on; after a relatively plot-solid first part where most episodes had at least a little in the way of new developments, part 2 seems content mostly to put the Forger family members in a variety of amusing scenarios and leave all the big picture stuff in the background until the final episode. And it’s a testament to just how damn charming these characters are- and how slick the production continues to be- that it mostly gets away with it. it’s fun watching Loid, Yor, and Anya bumble about as they slowly figure out what it means to live a “normal” life. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impatient for the plot to pick back up. I dunno, after so many episodes of just faffing about, I felt myself getting kind of burnt out on the sitcom hijinks. And it doesn’t help that the biggest new character introduced is basically just a genderswapped Yuri, a.k.a. the worst character in the series. Spy x Family works best when it’s balancing its fluffy and kickass sides, and part 2 just leaned a little too far into fluff for my tastes. I still had a lot of fun, but I’m more than ready for the Ostania-Westalis conflict to be important again.

Blue Lock (1st Half): 7/10

The premise of Blue Lock is one of those immediately head-slapping moments of “Wow, why has no one tried this before?” brilliance: what if you took a shonen sports anime and made it an edgy death game? Sports anime are already full of larger-than-life personalities and conflicts, so taking that over-the-top competitive camp and applying it to a situation where the characters have to destroy each other to get ahead in a winner-takes-all battle royale is such a no-brainer, I’m shocked it’s taken this long for someone to come up with it. Sure, you don’t actually die if you lose Blue Lock, but losing the ability to play competitive soccer ever again might as well be death for a shonen sports boy, so it still counts. Point is, this premise is certifiably genius. Which makes it slightly disappointing that so far, the show isn’t taking as much advantage of it as it could. Don’t get me wrong, there’s some of the skullduggery and backstabbing you’d expect from your typical death game, but for the most part, Blue Lock just plays like a traditional soccer anime. A very good soccer anime, to be sure, but I find myself wishing it was willing to get nastier and edgier and really take advantage of its premise. Hell, it’s not even the best straightforward soccer anime this year; Ao Ashi has it beat in everything but animation. So count me a fan, but also count me hopeful that it leans more into what makes it unique going forward.

Raven of the Inner Palace: 7.5/10

In a fantasy-tinged version of Medieval China, there lives an imperial courtesan known as the Raven Consort. But unlike the other courtesans, her duties do not involve, well, nighttime visits. No, her mission is to put to rest the wandering spirits of the dead, the shades of those who died with regrets or unfinished business that still tie them to the world of the living. As long as anyone can remember, she’s lived alone, existing for nothing but her mission with no bonds to the world around her. But when a new emperor deposes the corrupt regime, he makes it his mission to set right everything his forebearers set wrong... including freeing the Raven Consort from her isolation. Thus begins one of the most absorbing anime I’ve watched all year, a story of the sins of the past as they claw at the fabric of the present, the struggle to untangle eons of societal oppression, and what it truly means to make amends for mistakes that left scars too big to ever heal. Raven of the Inner Palace is a bit of a slow burn, but when it takes off, it fucking takes off. And I know most of you barely even heard about it because it was overshadowed by all the louder, flashier shows this season, so consider this your wake-up call. Don’t sleep on this one, it’s really damn good.

Akiba Maid War: 8.5/10

Honestly, I don’t even want to say anything about this one. I just want to tell you all that you need to fucking watch Akiba Maid War and let you experience its many surprises as deliriously blind as I did. So if that alone is enough to convince you to go watch it, then stop what you’re doing and go watch it before you’re spoiled on anything. But if you need a little extra convincing, then consider the following: what if I told you that this seemingly innocuous maid cafe show is not, in fact, a quaint little otaku-centric slice of life, but a full-on pastiche of yakuza movies that takes all the genre’s bloodshed and mayhem and filters it through maid-colored glasses? A show where maids gun each other down and jockey for power and get in vicious turf battles and yet never once break maid keyfabe? Where the simple joke of “yakuza movie but they’re maids” is played so straight and pushed so far to its absolute limit that it somehow wraps back around to being both a completely ludicrous parody of itself and a completely genuine, 100% heart-on-its-sleeve love letter to both seemingly incompatible sides of its double identity? And walks that seemingly impossible tonal tightrope near flawlessly before bringing it all home in a final episode so pitch-perfect it forced me to pump my score up half a point just from how hard it stuck the goddamn landing? Are you convinced yet? Did I mention there’s a thirty-six year old murder maid who totally kicks fucking ass and doesn’t let anyone shame her for being a middle-aged woman working a cutesy job? What more do you want from me? JUST GO FUCKING WATCH THIS SHOW ALREADY I SWEAR TO GOD

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch From Mercury: 8.5/10

I had no idea what to expect going into my first ever Gundam anime. Sure, I was excited to finally get a taste of what this storied franchise had to offer, and the excellent prologue and promise of an interesting female protagonist were certainly reasons to be hopeful, but as someone who’s rarely clicked with mecha as a genre, I wasn’t sure how this first foray into the definitive mecha anime would turn out. What I never expected- what I don’t think anyone could’ve expected- was that The Witch From Mercury wasn’t content to just be the first even female-led Gundam. No, this show decided to be REVOLUTIONARY GIRL UTENA. IN SPACE. WITH MECHA BATTLES. And I don’t think I need to say a goddamn thing more to convince you to watch this show. It’s goddamn Gundam Utena! It’s the queerest, most socially conscious anime of all time re-imagined with a futuristic metal exoskeleton, only with Utena’s symbolism-drenched ruminations on gender and patriarchy replaced with a no-less-compelling grounded portrayal of the evils of space capitalism and the political consequences of corrupt systems. Well, presumably; this first cours has mostly focused on the ground-level school romance antics as it builds up all that big picture stuff in the background. But I say again: GUNDAM. FUCKING. UTENA. I couldn’t have picked a better introduction to the world of Gundam if I tried. And as long as the second cours doesn’t shit the bed, this is going to go down in history as one of the greatest things to over come out of the mecha genre.

Bocchi the Rock: 9.5/10

And yet. Despite all the big shonens and bold anime originals, despite Chainsaw Man and My Hero Academia and Gundam Utena, when all was said and done, one series rose above them all. One series that looked at all those big names with a smirk and sailed past them as naturally as breathing. Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, Bocchi the Rock is a goddamn motherfucking masterpiece. It takes the band-girls coming-of-age majesty, the painfully relatable social anxiety of Watamote, and the sheer animation flexing of Nichijou, and blends them all together into a gut-busting, tear-jerking, jaw-dropping tour de force that raises the bar on what slice-of-life anime is capable of just as thoroughly as K-On did thirteen years ago. Hitori Gotou is a socially paralyzed weirdo who’s never had a real friend because her anxiety’s too overwhelming to make friends, but she knows how to play some mean guitar. So when a chance encounter leads to her joining a band, she resolves to stick with it and try to finally break out of her shell, one hilarious misstep at a time. It’s a wonderful story of overcoming what holds you back and finding a community that accepts you for who you are, brought to life with some of the most astonishingly Extra(tm) animation that regularly left me choking on my own laughter. And the music uniformly kicks ass, and the incredible supporting cast provides a wide array of perspectives of introversion and extroversion, and Ryou is such an asshole and I love her, and fucking hell, I love this show! Other anime may be deeper or more complex or have more to say, but almost nothing else is so consistently charming. Every second of this show is delightful. Every moment is lovable. It’s a new gold standard for animated comedy, for cute girls, for coming-of-age, and for music anime in general. Bocchi the Rock fucking rules, and every single one of you needs to give it a watch. Something tells me this is gonna be one of those shows we’re still going to be gushing over for many, many years to come.

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olivieblake · 2 years

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Hi Olivie!!!

I’m here to give you some praise on TAP!!! This will (hopefully) be spoiler free but I feel like I can’t fully make that promise so if anyone out there who hasn’t read it yet sees this who hasn’t read it yet, you might just want to skip this just to be safe.

First of all, I loved being back in this world with these characters, I keep telling people it felt like coming back home in a way.

This book was SO funny I laughed out loud several times and that was one of my favorite parts about the book. Of course I loved hearing from the love of my life Parisa again (also can we talk about the audiobook narrator for her??? The casting is perfect like she sounds exactly how I imagined and even gets like the mannerisms I imagine Parisa having it’s just the best). Speaking of Parisa though, can I just say how fascinating I still find Dalton and mind!Dalton. To me Dalton is actually the most intriguing and interesting character every time we go inside his mind and see mind!Dalton I get so invested. There’s just so many layers to his character and I just want to don’t them all out. I also just live for the dynamic Parisa and mind!Dalton have-it’s just so sexy.

I just also loved learning more about the other characters too! I can’t say you made me LOVE Callum or anything- if you remember from my previous asks and praise he has always been my least favorite and he terrifies me (which is still true) -but I can definitely appreciate his character more after this one which I was not expecting but was a nice surprise! Also okay it might just be me but I loved learning more about Atlas/Ezra. I actually kept texting my friend that I crackshipped them so hard hahah like I wasn’t expecting anything out of it but that betrayal trope and the chemistry hit hahah and I could see them being together back in the day. Idk I just vibed with it. ALSO DUH LIBBY’S CORRUPTION! One of my favorite parts. I definitely can’t wait to see how it also plays out in book 3 (okay spoiler but my nicolibby heart screamed when she said “time to torch this outcome and let the fucker burn”, tbh I think Nico will be very proud of her but that’s to be determined).

THE LAST PARTS PLUS ELILIF AND THE PRINCE LEFT ME SO MANY QUESTIONS LIKE SO MANY 🤯🤯🤯

Okay then ships which I know you probably hate people commenting on at this point but I just need to include it, however I’m lleaving it at the end here so you can skip it if you wish. I loved all the nicolibby crumbs like seeing them missing their other half and how especially Nico couldn’t survive without her and how not only did Nico want nothing else but to find a way to get her back in this book Libby also knew it would be Nico searching for her and ugh I just love them so so so much. Also S/O to Reina for being a secret nicolibby shipper too because she gave us yet another banger quote about them <3 will always be thankful to my girl Reina. Anytime I found a little crumb of theirs I would send it to my friend (who got an ARC) and just scream about it to her-it made reading it so fun. They mean the world to me and I can’t wait to see even more of them in TAC and my heart and soul prays it’s them in the end. But also Novacaine!!! My other loves. Seeing them both lowkey distraught and vengeful towards the other was AMAZING and so angsty. Like I said I love a good betrayal trope and they have an AMAZING one. There’s a page specifically (328) where my Novacaine heart was literally screaming. They just have such a fascinating dynamic and I’m obsessed. Like they might be toxic af but they are SO FUN and why need healthy in fiction anyway???

Anyway just wanted to say I had fun and can’t wait for Jan 2024 (or you know can wait because I’m terrified but you know same thing).

One of these days I’ll actually be able to write a short message (I hope). But I recently finished “The Lovers Grim” so I’ll be hitting up your inbox with more praise soon. Currently doing my AWYITE reread with it’s release and crying! Also currently reading Clara and the Devil and loving it! I can’t believe I only have one more book of yours left to read this year. So bittersweet but I already know I’ll be rereading a bunch of them all the time. ❤️❤️❤️

-Amanda

two things I’m not sure people always grasp about this series are that 1) it’s not taking itself as seriously as some people think it is (I compare it to reality tv for a reason, and I genuinely hope people have the same kind of fun with it that I have with pulpy, addictive media) and 2) there’s technically no such thing as crackshipping, because every relationship that occurs on the page is meaningful and the subject of intense complexity by its mentally ill creator (<3). I have thought a disturbing amount about what exists between every single character on the page, and I do think a wide variety of love stories are being told at the same time. atlas and ezra are a genuinely complicated pairing—it’s the relationship that set this entire plot in motion. this book IS the relationships. all of which is to say: get funky my friend it’s all there for you to play with, as a treat

and also 🥰 thank you for taking the time to share your love of these books with me!

#the atlas series #the atlas paradox

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mythicamagic · 3 years

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Fire and Brimstone: a Sesskag oneshot

For @harlecorn! ♥ Happy Birthday! 🎂

Rated T

A Hellhound remains bound beneath a church, waiting for the chance to enact revenge on his captors. His golden opportunity comes in the form of a blue-eyed woman. Sesskag AU oneshot.

You can read this on Ao3, Fanfiction.net and Dokuga

AN: This takes place in old-timey England. Think Witch Trial era - between the 15th and 18th century. However, I'm largely skipping the old language used in those times bc it would make dialogue feel awkward. If Kagome sounds weird it's bc I've had to lay off the modern talk a bit.

Warning: references to/implies torture

Fire and Brimstone

It was raining outside. Sesshoumaru could tell because a continuous leak somewhere had become his sole entertainment for several hours now. A thin sliver of water dripped from the roof between 10-second intervals, and he passed the time by counting them.

...Eight...Nine...Ten- drip!

A black nose twitched, picking up stale dampness lingering in the air. His body ached, but if he stayed still the wounds remained at a manageable dull, continuous pain rather than flaring white-hot agony.

How long had it been since he'd been dragged down into this dark place? He couldn't recall. Perhaps years. At the very least- months. He'd long since given up looking around at his prison, now laying in a dozing, frozen state.

Hearing something, Sesshoumaru's fluffy ear quirked. The blood inside his ear canal had encrusted, leaving sounds muted, but he could pick up distant footsteps descending stone stairs.

Have they returned to pray and bind me more tightly to their pathetic altar?

Sesshoumaru inwardly sneered, scarred paws remaining motionless. Though incredibly weak due to holy water- with his back and arms impaled with large iron stakes- a powerful, simmering rage in his chest refused to be tempered. His throat burned, belly scorching hot.

The church priest would pay, along with all his snivelling followers. One did not bind a Hellhound and live to tell the tale. Their foolish obsession with witch hunts and stamping out 'evil' within the land would be their undoing. They were fortunate they'd captured him while he'd been asleep.

Torchlight shone an orange hue behind Sesshoumaru's eyelids, but he refused to open them, playing possum.

"Still sleeping, are ye, unholy mutt?" a detestable, straight-laced voice reached his damaged ears, another torch being lit inside the room. "Good. Stay that way. Sleep until our heavenly Lord above casts you back from whence you came, down to Hell."

Oh this one will not be returning empty-handed, Sesshoumaru inwardly purred.

Remaining motionless, he looked for all the world unconscious. He couldn't lash out and tear into the priest as desired, due to a muzzle enclosed around his jaw. So, he bided his time. Rescue was out of the question. Dark creatures such as he received no aid from brethren. Sesshoumaru would just have to conserve energy for now.

The priest murmured a prayer that sent wrought iron hissing anew inside his flesh. Inwardly snarling, Sesshoumaru held himself still, refusing to show pain. His legs trembled slightly, giving him away.

Curse you. Curse you!

Wrath pumped through his veins, a siren song urging him to kill.

Satisfied that his work held strong, the head priest left; the sound of footsteps retreated up the stairs, leaving behind the lit torch.

At least that changed the scenery a little. Not that he had any reason to look upon it. Sesshoumaru panted hard the second he was left alone, sharp teeth clenching hard inside his jaw.

A quiet gasp caught his attention. Sesshoumaru froze. His nose twitched.

No scent?

Frowning, the Hellhound pried his eyelids open. Orange and black shapes shifted, blurry until someone's face came into focus.

Blue eyes gazed down at him. A woman with dark hair tumbling down her back slowly pried her hand away from her mouth.

"They really are cruel," she muttered, shocked features becoming grave. "I might as well refrain from asking if you're alright- since you clearly aren't," the stranger winced. "Sorry, that was insensitive."

Sesshoumaru blinked. What the Devil?

Her lips pursed, attention sliding to the iron stakes in his back. "I don't know how they managed to capture you. Surely that Priest can't have holy powers. He's about as pure as mud."

"...What are you?"

She paused, tilting her head and pushing dark hair behind her ear. "O-oh, that was rude of me, I didn't introduce myself, did I?" smiling, she straightened. "My name is Kagome Higurashi. Who are you?"

His question had been left unanswered, for he was largely uninterested in her name. He sneered, "Sesshoumaru."

"Nice to meet you, Sesshoumaru," she brought her hands together behind her back, smiling with only slight wariness. Her faded dress was slightly torn. Peasant wear. "I didn't expect you'd be able to talk."

"And I did not expect to be joined down here by a little lost lamb. Are you my dinner? They do not typically feed me." Saliva pooled in his mouth, drool pooling on the altar. His jaws parted, eyes glinting as they ran over her willowy form.

Kagome stepped away, huffing and crossing her arms. "While I sympathize, don't get rude. If you eat my soul then you really will be all alone- with no allies. You'll have eaten the only help you're going to receive in this place."

Sesshoumaru frowned as she walked out of his available sight, moving around his left side and picking up something from a shelf.

"You seek to give me aid? That seems counterintuitive for a soul as pure as yours."

He could smell it. The light radiating from within her. He knew her to be foreign from her features- and wondered how a priestess from a faraway land had arrived in such a miserable country rife with turmoil and evil; his hunting ground for the past few centuries.

She reappeared in his line of vision, holding a bowl of collected rainwater. She frowned, "I don't think 'pure' means 'doormat.' These men have caused a lot of harm. Harm should come back to them."

Red eyes cracked wider, interest lighting his red gaze. Kagome set the bowl down, resting a knee beside his jaw on the alter. "I'm trying to help you. Please don't eat me for it," with a wobbly smile, she reached for his muzzle.

Sesshoumaru held still, keen attention fixed on her every movement. Her deep blue eyes were pleasing, face quite beautiful in flickering torchlight. His dry tongue shifted within his mouth.

A Hellhound's purpose was to drag corrupted souls to the underworld. Kagome's radiated a strong, fierce glow.

The Japanese woman carefully grasped cool metal chains, pulling them off from around his face and tossing the muzzle aside.

Spittle-coated teeth immediately lunged- latching onto the coarse fabric of her modest dress, canines resting over her chest. Kagome gasped, hands grasping his jaw. Sesshoumaru tilted his head up, forcing her to lean over him slightly.

Crimson eyes glared up at her, growling lowly.

"What is your motivation, priestess?" a dark rumble growled inside her mind. "Tell me why I see black flames of revenge burning in the depths of your soul. A single blemish in your otherwise spotless self."

Kagome exhaled, and he felt her chest expand and fall with each breath. Gentle fingers ran over the silver fur on his face, cracking his eyes wider.

"The Dutch took me from my country a few years ago. Since then, I've been passed around to different places, picking up different languages. When I was forced onto a boat heading for this strange land- I didn't think anything more of it. I was to be the servant of a reputable house, but the priest of this church took issue with my foreign looks. After that, men dragged me here. You're not the only one who has suffered at their hands."

She withdrew her touch- and Sesshoumaru nearly tipped his head to chase it- unfamiliar with gentleness. Sparking holy powers then collected between her fingers, hovering close without making contact.

"I don't want to hurt you, in fact, I'd rather we were allies," the hushed words sounded genuine. "But I won't let you eat me easily either if that's what you're after. Let go."

Sesshoumaru searched her face, becoming entranced; Drunk off the sparking conviction there. What an odd, strong woman.

Letting out a breath of steam that whipped her hair back, Sesshoumaru relaxed his lower jaw, teeth unhooking from where they'd dug into the material of her clothes. He lowered her back to kneel on the altar, immediately diving for the water she'd provided instead.

Kagome caught her breath, holy powers fading away.

He lapped up every last drop, panting for more, wanting to sate the burning in his throat, but it would do for now. Sesshoumaru lifted his head, words firm with conviction as his chest rumbled.

"If you release me from my imprisonment, I will do your bidding for a time, woman. However, you should be aware of the consequences if you set me free."

She absentmindedly rubbed at the spot over her chest where his teeth had been, lips curving. "I know what'll happen to me, Hellhound," Kagome said quietly. "I accept the consequences."

Sesshoumaru bumped her leg with his nose, resting his head upon her thighs. “Then what do you command?”

"I want you to devour them," she murmured, gaze far away as she stroked mindful fingers through matted fur. "I believe in reincarnation, so I want you to prevent these terrible people from ever getting a second chance at life again. Eat them all- except the Head Priest. Him...you can drag home, to the deepest, darkest place available. Never let him be free from the shackles and iron bars you thrust inside him."

Sesshoumaru's breath shuddered. Their judgement aligned perfectly; and she'd spoken his desires aloud.

He had come across countless souls during his wrathful existence. He knew kind ones as well as those corrupted. This was one of the few times Sesshoumaru felt he'd witnessed a kind person pushed too far, beyond her breaking point. Now a deep well of dark emotion had pooled inside her, magnificent in its righteous fury.

Shifting, he dragged a hot, wet tongue up the length of Kagome's collarbone and neck, leaving a slick trail.

"Such pain...I can taste the ash on you," he purred, looking into her sad blue eyes. His voice hardened, incensed with renewed anger from her hurts and his own. "Free me, and it is gladly done."

Kagome shivered, before moving around his side. Gripping one iron bar embedded through his front leg that jutted into the alter below, she planted her knees wide.

"This is going to be a painful process, I'm sorry. W-will you survive the blood loss?"

The white demonic dog flashing her a jagged smile. "Just who do you think you are talking to?"

With a nod, Kagome steeled herself. Giving a hard yank that sent her stumbling backwards- the long, gruelling process began. Only when the agony died down would a monster with blood-red eyes emerge from the bowels of the church.

And all Hell broke loose.

-----

The church tower collapsed through the roof that fateful night. Bloodshed had begun, soaking the air with a coppery taste that quickly became dwarfed by fire. Earlier rainfall could not deter it- nothing stood in its blazing, enraged path.

White flames roared around the silver monster. He chased men down the church aisle in a frenzied hunger, catching them in his jaws. Of course, he saved the best for last.

The Head Priest trembled against a broken wall while screams pervaded the smoky air.

Sesshoumaru turned, panting. A red tongue lolled, snaking up to lick his bloodied maw.

With a yelp, the man tried to scramble away- only for his robes to be snagged on a broken beam. Heavy paws collided with his back, teeth latching into his clothes.

Within the burning depths of the church, a roaring inferno opened up. The Priest clawed and scrambled at blistering ground, cobblestone turning into scolding cinders beneath his palms. Frightened screams rang out as he was dragged backwards, Sesshoumaru descending with him down a winding, fiery path into the earth.

Everything collapsed inwards with one final groan of wood as structures toppled, the building completely caving into a burning wreck.

Kagome stood alone on a hillside, watching the entire thing unfold. She then smoothed her skirts, crouching by an unmarked, mass grave.

"I hope...you'll feel avenged now," she said softly.

She did not run nor scream. Instead, Kagome waited patiently to meet her fate, setting some flowers down.

A white dog demon covered in patches of ash approached silently. He sat beside her, neither acknowledging the violence he'd just committed.

"This is where you are buried?" he asked, gazing intently at her.

The ghost smiled wanly. "Buried makes it sound like we had a funeral. I was dumped in this hole with a few other women after we were sentenced as witches and burned at the stake. Nothing was left but my charred remains," her voice wobbled. Kagome made to wipe some tears- his sticky tongue licking them away before she could.

She gentled, touching his bloodied jaw. "H-how are your wounds?"

"All but mended," Sesshoumaru drew closer, humid breath fanning over her neck. "You know what must happen now."

Kagome laughed cynically. "Mn, because I'm a corrupt soul, you'll be dragging me to Hell too," she brushed a hand over the fur at his shoulder. Blue eyes hesitated for a moment, afraid of something entirely human.

"Will it...hurt?" she whispered.

If it were possible for a demon dog to ease his expression into something a touch less cold and hungry, Sesshoumaru managed to achieve something almost warm. He didn't answer at first, allowing a moment of silence to stretch between them. When he finally spoke again, his speech resounded inside her head as a soft grumble.

"No. Not for you."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that," a breath rushed out of her dead lungs, arms wrapping around herself as she glanced at the grave. "I've had enough pain, thank you."

"Indeed, you and I both."

A lily-white hand was offered down to her, sliding into her vision. Kagome's gaze drew up to a tall male.

The yellow moon looming behind his head gave him a halo effect; its gentle glow lining his face and dazzling her. Silvery hair split down broad shoulders, hanging like fine royal threads fit for a King. He wore black robes that billowed like dragon smoke.

Sesshoumaru's inhuman face smiled in an unnerving fashion, though she could tell the intent behind it- the desire to reassure her despite evidence of death on his robes. "Shall we go?" he asked in rich, clear tones.

Kagome stared up at the demon's handsome features. Smiling, she grasped his clawed hand without fear, allowing him to pull her up.

"You didn't have to change into such a pleasing form. I was coming with you anyway."

"My form is pleasing?" thin lips curved, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, Sesshoumaru strolled with her down the hill, a gateway opening up within the earth as a huge chasm, welcoming him home.

"Oh hush, you know it is," Kagome smiled tiredly, walking with the Hellhound away from the fire and brimstone burning behind them. "So...will I be punished down there?" her voice was almost lost, spoken so softly.

Glowing eyes smiled. "There is a place some call the Elysian Fields. I will take you to them."

She stiffened, blinking rapidly to expel the salty tears of relief and gratitude welling up in her eyes. Kagome stopped within the cavern of the underworld, causing him to halt with her. Drenched under harsh shadows of the earth about to swallow them whole, his eyes shone red like glittering jewels.

"I suppose I'll need a guard too," she said evenly. "To make sure I don't escape. I'm a very wicked soul, after all. A heretic."

Sesshoumaru flashed his teeth at her. "Hn, the worst kind. I will see to it personally since this one is best suited for such a difficult task."

Smiling with relief, Kagome willingly walked with him into the jaws of Hell.

End

#inuyasha #Sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #Sesshoumaru #Kagome higurashi #AU

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escape-from-reality-fics · 4 years

Text

Blankets and Movies ❋ Kim Tae Hyung

↳ Pairing: Kim Tae Hyung (V)/Reader

↳ Word Count: 2,554

⁙ Summary: Taehyung wrapping a blanket around Y/N when they are sitting on the couch and watching a show/movie after she has a bad day and confides in him

⚠️ Warnings: Contains minor mentions of self esteem issues/depression. Please do not read if you are triggered by any of these!

Today just wasn't your day. Nothing particularly wrong had happened thankfully; however, you just woke up in a horrible mood and couldn't seem to shake it. Your boyfriend Taehyung hadn't given you a goodbye kiss, and you were upset. You being upset led to you snapping over the phone at your best friend, Kenzie. Which then led to a small fight, Kenzie refusing to talk to you.

Then, at work, your computer short-circuited and you had lost the 2-hour long progress you had made. When your lunch break came around, you ended up overcooking your lasagna in the work microwave, burning it beyond edibility. Coming home from work was no small feat, either. You had gotten stuck in a traffic jam for close to 2 hours.

Now here you were, finally home. Starving, cranky, and sleepy. You couldn't decide between wanting to eat a whole box of cereal or flopping in your bed and sleeping until you were old and wrinkly. After a brief moment of hesitation, you decide just to skip eating for now and instead have a nap, praying it would make a little bit of your lousy mood dissipate.

You shed your work clothes quickly, tossing them across the room and narrowly missing the clothes hamper. Waving it off, you promptly threw on one of Taehyung's shirts, practically diving into your shared bed and curling up under the plush duvet. Your hand blindly reached out in the bedroom's darkness, patting the bed around you until you found what you needed. Feeling the cool fabric under your fingertips, you snatched up the TaTa plushie, snuggling it close to your face and inhaling Taehyung's scent.

As you laid there, the day's events raged around your head like a tsunami. You couldn't help but let out a little whimper as you remembered everything terrible that had gone wrong. Bringing a hand up to rub at your eyes, you let out a pitiful sniffle. You were too overwhelmed lately, with work and stress and deadlines. However, you felt you couldn't confide in Taehyung. With his packed schedule and own stress, you wouldn't dare burden him with your meaningless problems.

So you did what you usually do, and cried it out as you clutched onto the TaTa plushie for dear life, burrowed under your nest of blankets. You let everything out, your poor pillow getting soaked with salty tears. After a while, your tears ran out, tear tracks sticky on your cheeks. Rolling over, you grabbed your phone off the nightstand, squinting as the bright light assaulted your eyes. It was almost time for Taehyung and the rest of the guys to get home. Throwing your phone down beside you, you tug the duvet up around your chin, shutting your eyes and letting yourself slip into a floating dream.

At this point, BTS was on the way back to the dorm after a day filled with photo shoots and dance practices. Everyone was sore and tired, ready to go home and finally relax for a couple of days. Taehyung groaned softly to himself as he stretched his neck, seated in the large van that was taking them home. He especially couldn't wait to get back and cuddle you. He knew you hadn't had the best wake-up this morning and felt extremely bad for leaving you without your usual morning kiss. He planned to cuddle with you as soon as he got back to the dorm.

"What are we gonna eat for dinner, Jin Hyung?" Jungkook asked as he yawned, tired from the early morning start they had. Everyone was in some state of sleep or alertness, ready to get back to the dorm to shower and eat. Some of the boys perked up at Jungkook's question, wondering the same thing but too tired to voice it.

"We might just order something. I'm too tired to cook," Jin responds from his seat at the front of the van, eyes still shut as he tries to rest. They all agree with his idea and start to argue over what food to order. Taehyung stays quiet as he stares out the window, ready to get home and cuddle with you.

After a short amount of time, the van finally pulled up to their apartment building, a gorgeous high rise looking out over the city. They arrived in the parking garage, members clambering out of the van as it finally parked. Taehyung noticed your car parked in its usual parking spot, meaning that you were home. He was pushed to get up to the apartment faster, some of the other boys protesting the fast pace, trying to catch up with him.

"Yah, Taehyung, slow down! Why are you in a rush?" Hoseok called as he tried to catch up to his younger band mate, the rest of the boys behind him. Taehyung turned around quickly and smiled his big boxy smile, radiating happiness.

"Hyung (Y/N) is home! I really can't wait to see her, so we have to hurry," Taehyung calls to them as he proceeds to make it to the elevator, impatiently pushing the button to call it to their floor. The rest of the boys finally catch up, some huffing as they try to catch their breath. The elevator finally arrives, and Taehyung waits impatiently for the rest of the members to clamber on as well, before pressing the button for their floor.

It takes less than 20 seconds to get to their floor, but for Taehyung, it feels like a lifetime. When they finally get to their stop, he is the first one out, rushing to the door of their apartment, hastily unlocking it with his key and stepping inside.

"Jeez Tae, you don't have to rush. (Y/N) is still going to be here even if we took an hour," Jimin comments, entering the apartment behind Taehyung, exchanging his shoes for slippers. Taehyung scowls a bit at Jimin's comment but takes off his shoes and slides on his slippers, instantly making a beeline for his room where he knew you would be. He approaches his room and opens the door, expecting you to be sitting in bed reading or watching some crazy theory video on Youtube. However, he was shocked when he saw the outline of your body underneath the bed's comforter, face buried in your pillow. Taehyung frowns to himself, already realizing that you weren't doing that well. He starts to make his way towards the bed but freezes when you groan and roll over, blinking at the soft light streaming in from the hallway.

"Tae? Is that you?" You slur as you try to blink the sleep out of your eyes, sitting up in bed and brushing your wild hair out of your face. Taehyung approaches the bed and sits down next to you, gently kissing your head and smiling.

"Hey, baby. How was your day today?" Taehyung asks as you snuggle into his arms, welcoming his embrace. He could feel you stiffen in his arms, the question bothering you. He was worried because he knew you weren't one to tell anyone about your worries or troubles.

"Babe? Did something happen?" He asks as you pull away from his arms, your gaze cast downwards. You don't answer for a minute or two; the room cloaked in awkward silence. When you looked back up at him, your eyes were glazed with tears and your bottom lip was trembling, a telltale sign that you were on the verge of a breakdown.

"Tae… It was so hard," You sobbed out, shoulders shaking with each trembling breath you took. Taehyung could feel his heart breaking, realizing that this wasn't just from events that happened today.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathed as he pulled you back into his arms, laying you both down on the comfy bed. You snuggled into his chest, your salty tears soaking his expensive shirt, but he didn't care. He just wanted to comfort you.

"Tell me what happened, okay? Just let it all out."

The dam broke as you started talking (well sobbing) about everything that happened that day and then proceeded also to tell Taehyung about your earlier worries. His grip tightened on you as he gently rubbed your back to console you, occasionally planting a kiss on your head.

By the time you had finished your emotional rant, your chest felt lighter, and your mind felt clearer. Sitting up in the bed, you pulled away from Taehyung's grip and wiped your eyes, letting out a watery laugh.

"Sorry for springing this all on you, Tae. I didn't want to be dramatic," you admitted, watching as Taehyung sat up as well, a frown marring his handsome face.

"Baby, I want you to tell me these things. I want to know when you're feeling upset or insecure or angry. I want to hear about your day, whether it's good or bad. Don't hold back anymore, please," he pleaded, grabbing your face in his large hands and making you look him in the eyes.

"Okay, Tae," you forced out as he squished your cheeks lovingly. Taehyung gave you a radiant smile and brought your face close to his, giving you a deep, loving kiss. It lasted for all of 10 seconds before your stomach rumbled, breaking the warm atmosphere.

"Are you hungry, or are you hiding a bear in your stomach?" Taehyung jokingly asked, watching as your face turned scarlet with embarrassment. You sputtered out an apology as Taehyung laughed his deep laugh, standing up and bringing you with him.

"Come on love, let's get some food," Taehyung says as you both leave your shared room, your eyes squinting against the brightness of the hallway. You both end up traveling to the living room, finding that most of the group was lounging around.

"Hey (Y/N), how was work today?" Hoseok asks as he notices your and Taehyung's arrival. The rest of the boys look up and say their greetings; you give a small nod and wave in return.

"Uh, it was… eventful, to say the least," you scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. Hoseok takes the hint, not pushing any further. Taehyung takes this chance to speak up, looking to Jin, who was reading in the armchair.

"Hyung, are we going to order food soon? (Y/N) sounds like she hasn't eaten in 84 years," Taehyung asks him as the others laugh when your stomach rumbles, creating perfect timing.

"Well, we can always order from the chicken place around the corner? They're pretty fast and have good food," Jin suggests as Namjoon already pulls up the delivery service on his phone. Everyone quickly shouts what they want, and they order.

"Yah Jungkook scooch over you lump," Taehyung scolds as he notices the maknae taking one whole couch. Jungkook rolls his eyes but ends up sliding over to the one side, giving you and Taehyung enough room to sit down and snuggle.

You quietly chat with Jungkook, who was on your right, talking about the newest Overwatch update. After about 20 minutes of quiet chatter with Jungkook, Yoongi and Jimin occasionally joining, the food arrives.

"Alright, you heathens if I see anyone drop any of this on the floor or the furniture I am never letting you guys taste my cooking ever again," Jin threatens as he passes out the containers of fried chicken, everyone sitting around the coffee table and digging in.

"Yes, Jin Oppa," you smile as you grab a piece of chicken, popping it into your mouth. Jin smiles at you, always appreciating your dedication to cleanliness.

The chicken gets consumed relatively quickly; everyone quiets apart from the TV playing the newest Running Man episode. Jimin and Hoseok clean up the boxes, and everyone agrees to a movie before heading to bed.

Two movies get debated, Spirited Away or Parasite, and with a 5 to 3 vote, Spirited Away is chosen. You can feel yourself becoming sleepy again, your belly full and sated.

"Sweetheart, if you want to go to bed, you can," Taehyung whispers in your ear as he notices you jolt awake from where you were drifting off. You grumble something back at him, although he can't make out what you said, curling into his body for warmth.

"Hyung, can you pass me that blanket behind you?" He whispers to Yoongi, nodding at the fluffy throw blanket on the back of his loveseat. Yoongi blinks and throws it Taehyung's way, Taehyung giving him an unamused look when he gets smacked in the face with it.

You give an appreciative hum when Taehyung wraps the blanket around the two of you, providing more comfort. It takes less than a minute to fall asleep, the white noise of the movie helps.

Taehyung smiles down at your sleeping face, pressing a quick kiss to your temple and holding you closer to him. He looks up as he hears a quiet camera click, seeing all of his band mates and brothers looking towards the two of you with big smiles.

"You guys love each other, huh?" Jimin asks with a heartwarming smile. Taehyung glances back down at you, noting your peaceful expression and steady breathing.

"I love her more than I love living itself, Hyung. She was so upset today and felt like she couldn't tell me because of how busy we are with the comeback preparations," Taehyung murmured, frowning a bit as he remembered your earlier conversation.

"You know how (Y/N) is like Tae, even before the two of you started dating she was always so worried about causing stress to us just by being our friend," Hoseok reminds him, seeing how upset the younger was by how reserved you were with him.

"I know Hyung. I just want her to open up more. I love her so much, and I want her to be happy," Taehyung said, readjusting his grip on you as you wiggled into a more comfortable position.

"She is happy with you, Tae. Everyone can see that. You both just have to work on this moving forward. It's all going to be okay," Namjoon advises him, his wise words striking a chord in Taehyung.

"You're right, Hyung."

"I know I am. Anyways I think it's bedtime for everyone, it's getting late, and we have more things to do tomorrow," Namjoon states, everyone, groaning and stumbling off to their rooms.

"I'm gonna take (Y/N) to bed, I'll see you in the morning Hyungs," Taehyung whispers, lifting you with ease and tucking the blanket back around your sleeping body.

He enters your shared bedroom, gently tucking you into the bed as you rolled over and grumbled, kicking your legs a bit. Taehyung giggles, changing quickly into PJs before he slips into bed next to you, pulling the blankets up around you both.

"Hnnng? Tae?" You mumble as you wake up a bit from your sleep. Taehyung shushed you, gently stroking your hair to put you back to sleep.

"Go to sleep, baby. I love you so much," Taehyung whispers into the quiet of the night. You settle down and start to feel your eyes shut again.

"I love you too, Tae, so much."

What had started as a bad day had become a good one, Taehyung always brightening up your life. You wouldn't have it any other way.

#bts #fanfic #taehyung x reader #v x reader #kpop fluff #kpop angst #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #bts fanfic #kpop writing #writing #bts members #bts x reader

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misslynn99 · 3 years

Text

Epicenter: Chapter Two

Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Link on AO3: Epicenter

Link to Chapter 1

Author: misslynn_99 (Me!)

The next morning, the café regulars buzzed around the TV monitors, excitedly chatting about the news. Official footage of the attack had finally been aired. Concrete flew everywhere as the villain lashed out against heroes, sending distraught civilians fleeing from the scene. The scene that every news station had on repeat, however, was that of several tons of concrete on a direct collision course for a young family, until Ground Zero put himself between the two. He squared back one shoulder to pulverize the rubble with a blast, and in that moment, his wild eyes were molten flames, the fine cascade of dust casting a hazy halo around his form.

It was such a harsh contrast to the villain swinging a pillar of concrete immediately after, colliding directly with the hero’s chest and sending him hurtling back against the harsh exterior of another building, slumping bonelessly on the ground.

“He saved them.” You whispered to yourself. Icy needles twisted in your chest. Eijirou had trusted you to care for his closest friend at his most vulnerable. The café was much closer than any hospital to the scene, but your heart skipped a beat, fluttering in astonishment. “He could have died. It’s a wonder he didn’t.” Just how close had Ground Zero been to death’s door when he showed up here?

“Blasty is lucky he’s got a rad, manly partner like me.” Eijirou’s voice startled you, suddenly far too close to your ear.

“Hi!” You squeaked. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“You think I’d let my best girl go un-thanked after saving my partner’s ass yesterday?” His arms swept you into a tight bear hug, twirling your feet off of the floor. Eijirou’s easy smile seemed to smooth over the awkward tension from the day before, as if it were no more than an insignificant blight of an otherwise sunny day.

“Quit harassing the woman, Shitty Hair. We’re here on business.”

“She likes it.” Eijirou had the gall to stick out his tongue. “Isn’t that right?”

“I, I don’t mind.” You couldn’t help but squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment, dropping your head forward, and you prayed that no one would notice. This crush was spiraling out of control, as the sturdy muscles that could shatter any obstacle and strong enough to lift cars supported you easily in his embrace.

“ ‘Don’t mind’ isn’t the same as ‘like’.” Ground Zero’s mouth turned even further downward into a scowl. Reluctantly, Eijirou set you down, and you felt cold at the absence of his touch. The tension settled again like a thick cloud, choking out whatever embers of affection you felt for the red haired hero.

“I didn’t mean to impose.” The red-head’s own face was dusted with faint pink, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“It’s no problem.” You tried your best to smile kindly, wincing internally at the memory of his flinch. “Why don’t I get you both some coffee on the house? It’s the least I can do for everything you two do to protect the city.”

“One black coffee it is then!” Eijirou perked back up.

“So, I take it you’ll have the latte, extra heavy cream with two pumps caramel, two pumps cinnamon, and cinnamon-brown sugar mix dusted on top?”

Ground Zero’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to say that so loud.”

“No shame.” You chuckled despite yourself. “Plenty of people take their coffee sweet, too.”

“Don’t spare Blasty’s feelings!” Eijirou laughed. “Even Mr. ‘Nothing is spicy enough’ likes sweets on occasion.”

“You better shut your mouth!” Ground Zero snapped, his tone climbing with each word. Curiously, Eijirou kept laughing, and tapped at his own ear.

“Right, got it.” The blonde grumbled. “Too loud.”

“Here you go, boys.”

“I have a name, you know.” The blonde held the cup up, scowling. “I’m off work, damn it. You called Shitty hair by his name on the cup.”

“It’s not like you introduced yourself between eating shit against the building and going in for surgery.” Eijirou scoffed.

“And you did?”

“Kiri stayed with me while they gave me IV fluids.” You supplied bashfully. “And I wanted to know when you made it out okay.”

“Call me Bakugou then.” He made a strangled noise. “When I’m not in suit tearing shit up, I don’t wanna hear ‘Ground Zero’ from you, got it?

“Not your given name?” Eijirou seemed to take a savage joy in goading on the explosive hero. “That’s awful cold, Katsuki. She did save you from a hospital stay and a month off of hero work.”

“Or Katsuki, whatever.” If looks could kill, Eijirou would have dropped dead in his tracks. Bakugou’s eye twitched and small firework-pops crackled off of his palms, clenched into fists at his side. You hoped that the café regulars were too enamored with the news and their own conversations to notice the sparks flying.

“I can call you Bakugou, if that’s what make you more comfortable. Wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.” You chuckled, carefully watching his expression for his reaction to the playful jab.

“Kacchan’s bark is worse than his bite, at least off of the battlefield.” A new voice drifted in from the door. The emerald curls, gelled up from his undercut, were unmistakable. “I’m afraid that we didn’t get introduced last night. I’m Deku, but you can call me Midoriya if you’d like.”

“Kacchan?” You grinned wickedly. “Isn’t that so cute!”

Bakugou bristled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you fucking nerd!” He whipped around to snarl at the green-haired hero that had just walked in. For someone who was effectively co-workers with the number one hero, Bakugou acted like he despised the man.

“Aw, pump the breaks Kacchan.” Midoriya scrunched his freckled nose in a wide grin. “I’m just here to say hello to the woman who saved your life last night. So, this is where Kiri has been getting your coffee from? It’s such a nice little café, I think I’ll have stop by more often.”

“Like hell you will! We found it first!” Bakugou growled, stepping between you and Deku, while Eijirou chimed in the background, “I think you mean that I found it first.”

“Boys, boys, you’re all very pretty.” You ducked around the pro hero’s side, attempting to soothe the bickering. “I have plenty of coffee to go around. “

“You’re not keeping her as your personal barista and healer, Kacchan.”

“What happened to keeping this on the down-low?” Bakugou suddenly stiffened, whispering harshly.

“I think someone is feeling a bit embarrassed.” Eijirou rolled his eyes.

“I got my shit rocked on national television, of fucking course I feel embarrassed.” The blonde snapped. “But for her safety, I thought we agreed to keep any rescue shit-talk out of the public eye.”

Wincing, you looked up at him. “I think they’re calling you saving that family the rescue of the year though. And lots of people have minor healing quirks.”

Whipping his head back and forth, he snagged the strings of your apron and tugged you behind the coffee bar, through the doorway into the kitchen.

“Wait!” The two other heroes followed suit, chasing you as Bakugou dragged you out of the public eye.

“You don’t have a ‘minor healing quirk.’ “ He scowled, placing a hand on each of your shoulders, hands trembling as if he were resisting the urge to shake you. You could feel the residual heat of his calloused palms, the threat of an explosion ghosting along your skin and sending shivers up your spine.

“You have a self-destructive healing quirk that has major potential to get you kidnapped. Do you know the League of Villains would do to get their hands on you? Or fuck it, the Hero Commission? They’d keep you caged up like some animal to fix up their toys as they broke so that they could be sent out scot-free again.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Midoriya and Eijirou recoil, especially as the blonde hero turned his ire towards them once again. “Is some kind of joke to you two? Kirishima, if you could take two minutes to keep it in your pants, and Deku, if you could be serious, we need to come up with a plan.”

“Yes, Kacchan.” Midoriya and Eijirou nodded.

“Where do you live?” His burning eyes narrowed in your direction once again.

Swallowing thickly, you met his gaze. “In the loft above the café.”

“Hmm. Who all knows about the full extent of your quirk?”

“Just my parents, and my best friend from middle school, who moved to the states while we were in college.”

“Maybe she should stay with one of us?” Midoriya offered. “Just to see if anyone’s decided to target her?”

Panic froze your feet to the floor. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” You laughed nervously, fiddling with the apron strings tied at your hip. “I mean, you’re all very nice, but I could never ask that of anyone. I’m up at 4 in the morning to get the café ready to open at five, and walking alone in the dark is not my forte.” Especially if I might as well have a big target painted on my forehead now.

“The League definitely keeps an eye on our flats. They might not have made the connection that she’s done anything yet, but moving her in would be a surefire way to draw their attention. Also, there’s no way the Commission would just ignore someone else hanging out all the time.” Eijirou argued. “I think it would be better to set up surveillance on the café and her loft, and maybe get her a panic button or something.”

“A panic button.” Bakugou snorted. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, but there are these novel things called ‘cellphones.’ “

“And if she can’t call?” Midoriya raised an eyebrow.

“Brave words for someone who dropped his location to Icy-Hot, with literally no context, in the middle of an alleyway, and he magically appeared anyways.”

Sighing and stepping between the two bickering men, Eijirou held his hand out expectantly. “Here, I’ll put our numbers in your phone. We should probably scope out your apartment later.”

“I close at five tonight.” You offered, passing your cell to him, contacts open. “I’ll probably be done cleaning up by six, but you’re free to drop by whenever you get the chance after that. All of this feels pretty crazy though. It’s not like I did anything out in the open.”

Turning on the full force of his overwhelming intensity, Bakugou rounded on you once again, having caught the tail of your conversation. “There’s a couple articles floating around. You’re in the pictures, being floated to the hospital, and some low life bloggers are wondering how I was fine so soon afterwards, when Recovery Girl was on the other side of the country for some other case.” Venom dripped from his words, as if this were your fault somehow.

“It’s not my fault that I helped you!” Anger leaked into your voice. You couldn’t believe that he had the audacityto blame you for this. “Don’t talk to me like it is. I couldn’t not do anything. It’s a wonder that hit didn’t do worse, and I am certainly not responsible for them taking me to the hospital with you.”

In frustration, you stormed out of the kitchen, straightening your apron and apologizing to the handful of customers who were waiting by the cash register. A friendly smile and a few discounted coffees later, they sat down at a booth. The heroes were still in your kitchen, and you felt your resolve to ignore them crumbling. “I did give Kiri and Bakugou free coffee earlier.” You mumbled to yourself, a mischievous idea taking root; Bakugou’s buttons were so easy to press.

Leaning around the corner, you poked your head back through the kitchen doorway. The heroes froze, their argument in low tones evaporating with your return. “Midoriya!” You grinned, drawing out the syllables playfully and deliberately ignoring the blonde hero’s angry stare. “How do you like your coffee? Sweet as you are?”

“Uh, umm” He stuttered and his eyes darted between you and the door. “With oat milk, white chocolate and toffee, and iced please.”

“Coming right up! On the house.” The sound of sparks dancing off of Bakugou’s palms eased your flare of anger, taking a little bit of satisfaction in riling up the blonde in return, and you set about making the drink.

The trio must have finally decided to drop their discussion, and shortly followed you out to wait by the coffee bar. Bakugo turned his back to you, eyeing the door and clutching his coffee while Midoriya and Eijirou resigned themselves to facing you, their awkward expressions apologetic. The other café patrons were thankfully still transfixed by the TVs, oblivious to the situation at hand.

“Here’s your phone back.” Eijirou mumbled, setting your phone on the counter. “He doesn’t mean it. He’s just frustrated and annoyed, nothing against you personally. It’s just kinda how he is, ya know? He takes it out on everyone. He’s been this way since he was a teenager, but he doesn’t blame you. Promise.”

“Hmm. I suppose I can accept your apology on his behalf, just this once.” You whispered back, sliding a coffee cup to Midoriya, who sipped it gratefully.

“We’ll be back later. Come on, nerds.” Bakugo’s voice was gruff as he called over his shoulder. “We have a meeting and a patrol shift soon.”

The heroes left and an unease settled in your gut at their absence, acutely missing their larger than life presence. Even as the customers milled about, coming up for refills and pastries, their words weighed on your mind. Villains and Heroes had never been a major point of contention in your life; a quirk like yours wasn’t suited for the spotlight, and like thousands of others, accepted your fate as a civilian.

The coffee shop felt like a homage to another era, before quirks existed. The small planters bloomed in the window display under your mindful care, without any sparks of magic to enhance their color or growth. The coffee beans that arrived each week were roasted delicately by hand, and each new drink was born from trial and error; no surprising powers of charm or persuasion lured customers to your door. It was an honest life that you were proud of, built with hard work and love.

Ringing up another customer and brewing the earl grey tea for a London Fog, it felt like your head was ringing. Your quirk had never been an active threat to your well-being. You had gained some control over the years, having only been able to tend minor scratches and bruises as a child, but never showed enough promise to be recruited into the medical field as a young teen. Even now, the drawbacks were too great. Healing left you exhausted, and the more extensive the injury, the greater the fatigue.

It wasn’t like you came from a family of fantastic heroes either. Your mother worked as a doctor in a wound care and surgical center because she could clean infected tissue at the expense of the patient’s energy. Your father’s quirk was completely unrelated to your own, allowing him to sculpt metal by heating his hands, albeit without flames. It was hard to believe that the arguably worse version of your mother’s quirk made you a target, but the underlying assumptions behind it sent shivers of fear down your spine. If there was no regard for your well-being, your quirk could be indispensable, could be used to patch anyone up at the expense of draining you dry.

Nevertheless, the hours ticked by, dread worrying the pit of your stomach. Bile rose in the back of your throat the longer your anxious thoughts raced. Without the grace of someone with a more offensive quirk, there was little you could do to defend yourself.

Maybe Bakugou was right to be annoyed, but he didn’t have the right to be such an ass about it. Closing time was only half an hour away, and the customers had dwindled in the shop. The pleasant humming of customers faded, exposing every raw nerve that you had. The last person was out, and at 5:06,

... there was a knock.

Snapping to attention, you jerked towards the doors, feeling a strange mixture of relief and annoyance upon seeing Bakugou waiting by the door. Sighing, you called out, “It’s still unlocked.”

He didn’t enter though. He leaned partially against the window with one hand, the other shoved deep into the pocket of his white jeans. He had the hood up on his black and gold hoodie, but not enough to conceal his distinctive blonde hair and you could have sworn his red eyes could burn a hole through anything as he peered in the window. He must not have heard you, and you steeled your resolve to go and let him in.

“Shitty Hair sent me.” He grumbled.

“Hmm.” You hummed in response, wandering back behind the counter to tuck away the extra bottles of syrup and take down the pastry display. “Make yourself at home then.”

The hero looked even more uncomfortable, his shifting gaze never lingering on anything for too long, before he spotted the bottle of disinfectant. To your surprise, he started wiping off tables, but you don’t breath a word, afraid to break the uncanny silence.

At 5:45, Eijirou, Midoriya, and a woman you could only assume was Uravity knocked, and Bakugou dropped the supplies as if he had been burned. Midoriya was the first to heckle him, teasing “Kacchan, I didn’t know that you could be helpful!”

“I was bored, you damn nerd. That’s all.”

The heroes were almost unrecognizably causal. Uravity and Midoriya were in matching letterman jackets, sky blue and patterned with delicate pink cherry blossoms falling from slender black branches, with Shouto written across the back in a beautiful script. Eijirou was also devastatingly casual, wearing baggy, low-rise black jeans and a white v-neck that dipped dangerously below his collar bones. His long red hair was up in his trademark loose ponytail, spilling over his shoulders and down his back.

“So nice to see you again! I’m Uraraka.” Her smile glowed as she bounced forward to greet you. “It’s nice to really see the place that Kirishima and Bakugo talk so much about.”

A frown creased your features. “I think I would have remembered Bakugou coming in for coffee. Doesn’t Kiri just get his?” You mumbled, panicking as you realized it was out loud.

Thankfully, Uraraka giggled. “No, he just won’t let Kiri get coffee from anywhere else now. I think the whole agency knows his order by now.”

“It’s just the least shitty.” Bakugou growled. “But whatever. I have shit to do, so let’s get this over with.”

“Lead the way.” Midoriya smiled kindly.

The stairs to the flat were in the kitchen, the door tucked out of sight next to a supply closet. Butterflies fluttered in your chest, and a sudden self-consciousness that almost froze you in place. The apartment was an intimate insight into your life and personality. Your reading was on the living room table, and cherished photos hung on the walls. Is my laundry hanging up to dry? You winced at the thought.

“Welcome!” You forced a smile and led them to the kitchen table. “So, what do you need to check out?”

“We’re not trying to invade your privacy more than necessary.” Midoriya looked solemn, glancing at you shyly from underneath his lashes. “I was thinking we should put a camera right in the stairway that faces the entrance, another on the fire escape, and one on the outside of each of your windows. Then, we can just set up a bunch around the café.”

“Oh,” You relaxed into your seat. “That’s not as bad as I was expecting.”

Midoriya and Uraraka were sitting ram-rod straight at your table, posture stiff and schooled. Eijirou was examining your end table in the living room, carefully turning your favorite candle in his hands, while Bakugou trailed behind like a sullen shadow.

“We just want to make sure you’re safe.” Uraraka reassured. “We’ll probably change the patrol route to make sure that we stop by here, but we won’t be in the shop every time. If nothing is weird, we’ll leave you be after a while.”

“I’m glad.” The remaining tension left your shoulders, and you let out a sigh of relief. “I really don’t want to put my life on pause. I’ve worked really hard for what I have here. “

“Of course!” Eijirou looked over his shoulder, now surveying the sliding glass door that led to the fire escape. “This is the best place in town, and I don’t think I’ll ever stay awake through another Commission meeting without my usual again. Plus, we owe you big time. It’s our fault that you’re starting to get some media attention.”

“Do the cameras need plug-ins or batteries?” You asked cautiously.

“Nah, they’re the special surveillance ones Chargebolt rigged, and we’ll get a notification if the battery is less than 25%. We’ve just gotta get them set up. Uraraka can up to stick them, then make ‘em weightless so they don’t fall down.”

At Eijirou’s words, you could see Uraraka tapping her fingers, jumping up to stick the device to the ceiling. With a frown of concentration, she pulled out her phone, checking the feed and fiddling with the camera until it was angled to her satisfaction before drifting back to the floor.

“We can take it from here. Feel free to go back to closing, or what you usually do in the evening. Don’t be afraid to let us know if you need anything.” Midoriya nodded before excitedly leaning in closer, eyes sparkling with the enthusiasm of a little kid. “Also, at some point, can I study your quirk? I keep notebooks of all different quirks I encounter, and yours is so interesting.”

“Shut your trap, nerd!” Bakugou growled from behind Eijirou, who jumped and clutched his partner’s arm. “Stop acting like we’re at the damn zoo. Save it for later.”

“Am not, Kacchan!” Midoriya whined. Turning to you, he put up his hands in a peace gesture. “I think we better get going, though. I think today’s probably been quite the day for you. Uraraka will set those up outside, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

Snagging Bakugou’s sleeve, Midoriya pulled him unwillingly down the stairs, with Uraraka having already moved on to install the security cameras in the café. Despite his tough front, the blonde didn’t fight too much, only grimacing and batting away the other hero’s hand as they left.

“Hey Kiri,” You said nervously, before the hero had the chance to follow his teammates out of your apartment. “Thanks for having Bakugou come over to be there while I was closing. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you guys said this morning. I just feel so uneasy, like every stranger could be dangerous and I can’t do anything to save myself. It really set my mind at ease to have someone else there.”

“I bet.” He winced with sympathy. “But I didn’t ship Bakugou out here. He volunteered, and you didn't hear that from me.”

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfiction #reader insert #bakugou katuski x reader #female reader #she/her pronouns #pro hero bakugou #aged up characters #pro hero au #coffee shop au #angst with a happy ending #reader has a healing quirk #canon typical violence #somewhat graphic description of wounds #slow burn #no beta we die like men #Ground zero Au

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laurore-stormwitch · 4 years

Text

the demon and the witch

Here’s the second chapter my first fan fiction! This is from Zoya’s POV which was so much harder to write. Hope you all enjoy it!

word counts: 4392

You’ll find it in full in AO3

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Zoya hissed while trying to strengthen the bandages on her wound, through which a small flower of blood was already blossoming through. Damn those kerghud and their blades. She checked her sides too, finding with relief she was not in much pain. At least the healers were able to take her of that; but the poison the Fabrikators found on the kerghud’s knives was slowing down the process on the deep cut on her shoulder.

You still prevailed, rumbled Juris inside of her. You took down all of them on your own. The voice was beaming with his pride.

And got thrown against a tree for good measure, she answered grimly while examining her wound. It could’ve been worse. Still, it wasn’t a good sign; the Shu were supposed to be their allies now. Why did a pack of kerghuds attack her? They really didn’t need another thing to worry about. She sighed, opening the windows and letting the cold air revive her a little. The ride back to the palace had left her sore; it took her hours and standing on a horse with a throbbing chest and blood all over her hadn’t been pleasant. She arrived after dinner only to be welcomed by a furious and shaken Genya who had tried to cover for her absence and had immediately taken her to get patched up. Not really an ideal day.

She was pondering whether to drown her sorrows either in bed or in wine when she heard some strained voices in the corridor; they sounded rushed, worried. Someone was giving orders to her guards to stand down and resign their post, sending them away. Oh, for Saints sake, not now, she thought as the door slammed open and Nikolai Lantsov stomped in her room with a weary expression, stopping in front of her. Of course he found out.

“What the hell happened Zoya?” She glanced at him, both annoyed and warmed by his uneven breath and messy look; he seemingly ran through the whole palace to get here, already in his more comfortable clothes for the night. Armour in place, her words were clipped and sarcastic.

“Did anyone never bother to teach the future King of Ravka the subtle art of knocking?”

Nikolai looked exhausted; he released a long breath he seemed to have been holding for ages while he carefully skimmed her for injuries, lingering on the bandages on her shoulder and upper arm with a worried look. She quickly put her kefta back on covering them, uncomfortable under his gaze. When he seemed to have assessed that she wasn’t going to die in the next couple of minutes, he relaxed, releasing the tension in his shoulders, shoving the worry away and regaining his usual merry attitude.

“No one thought I’d actually be the future King, you know. Maybe that’s why they skipped it.”

His tone was light, but he took a couple of steps in her direction, still checking her. She rolled her eyes, making a good show of being irritated. He was being overly dramatic. She knew that whoever told him of her little excursion would also have told him that she was safe and sound and healers already had tended to her; he had no reasons to put up these theatrics.

“I’m fine.” He huffed in response, casting his eyes heavenward too.

“You broke three ribs.”

“Two”, she corrected, “And they’ve already been healed.” He didn’t flinch, taking another step forward and gesturing to her arm.

“What about that?”

She shrugged her shoulders ignoring the stab of pain the movement provoked.

“Are you here to question me or do you actually need something?”

Nikolai grinned, leaning against the wall next to the balcony. She shifted unconsciously away from him. He was too close, only a couple of feet apart from her. And they slipped inside their usual banter too easily: everything came too easily with him. Her look wandered outside the window, averting his amused eyes still trained on her with an intensity she didn’t want to consider.

“Ah, there’s the spite. You’re really fine then.”

There was an affection in his voice that was hard on her nerves. What was he doing here? The whole point of her actions was to keep the distance; this didn’t exactly fit with the plan, the two of them alone in her chambers at this hour of the night. She collected her strength, making the decision to ignore him. His smug face was making her want to shove him out the door. The silence stretched and she waited with hope that he would just leave her be, sensing her irritation. But Nikolai was Nikolai after all, seemingly untouched by her demeanour.

“I already sent word to the Shu. We…I’ll take care of it.” She sensed him stop before adding something else, no doubt avoiding saying Ehri’s name and leaving her out of the conversation. Zoya shook her head, even more unnerved by this unwelcome caution in her regards.

“It doesn’t matter. They’re going to say it was a rogue attack. I took care of it.”

Meaning I burned them all.

“Just tell our dear princess to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Somebody else could’ve gotten really hurt.”

“But they found Zoya Nazyalensky instead. What a stroke of luck for them.”

She didn’t react to his praise, so he just kept talking, keeping an easy attitude. But she knew him well, and she could hear the strain in his voice, the turmoil he was trying to keep hidden.

“Do you care to tell me why my most valuable general decided to take a stroll in an open field and almost got herself killed?”

Fine then, so ignoring him was not the correct strategy; she resorted to her ruthlessness and his guilt.

“Most valuable.” Zoya scoffed. “Thought you’d be satisfied; you’d finally have the perfect excuse to replace me.”

She turned to him while speaking, holding a firm gaze; so she was able to see the shadow of shame and pain that swept through his eyes at her words.

As hurt as she was, their fight the other day served her right. It was bad enough to convince her that staying away from him was the sensible thing to do, and now it gave her a weapon to use to keep distancing him. Also, she really didn’t intend to linger on the topic and explore the reasons why she made what she knew had been a reckless decision. Lately, the palace was far too crowded for her liking; it had begun to feel suffocating, and not only because avoiding Nikolai was growing harder and harder by the day. The dragon inside her craved the sky; the power in her was constantly rumbling, pretending to be unleashed. She still didn’t understand it, the force of it, the craving for destruction that came with it. It was slowly changing her: each and every day her senses got stronger, her hunger got deeper. It demanded to be used; there were times she didn’t know how she kept still, moments in which the air around her crackled without her control, nights in which thunder boomed and clouds darkened the sky as her mood grew more sour. So she started taking these rides outside the city, trying to find places where she could test her abilities without risking destroying the Little Palace. In a time that seemed long lost, she would’ve liked to confide in Nikolai with this. But he wouldn’t understand now, he wouldn’t get what she feared to become if she kept searching for more. And she made a choice after Isaak’s death, the choice to give up on her foolish hopes and dreams and be a general after all. That choice included letting Nikolai go, which he was making hard to do.

They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. A pang hit her throat, and she felt an unfamiliar prickle in her eyes. Why did she want to cry now? She searched for her anger, trying to bury the feeling of despair that was troubling her mind. She prayed for him to say something spiteful, or to turn on his heels and go. Instead, he came even closer, moving a delicate brush of his fingers over the bandages that peaked near her collarbone, sending a shiver through her. Too close. Get away.

“I’m sorry, Zoya.”

And why for all Saints on earth did he have to say her name like this? It was almost like a prayer. A soft whisper full of honesty, not even an inch of his casual arrogance or boldness. She sucked a breath in, holding her pose, arching a brow in his direction.

“Nice speech. Bet you practiced it a lot in front of the mirror.”

He waved a glowing smile at her, while she pondered wherever this good mood came from.

“I had a nice speech, you know. And yes, I also practiced it. But then you went on to put yourself in danger and I got a little distracted.”

She glanced at him. “I’m not a helpless girl whom you needed to run to and save from a monster.” I may easily be the monster myself, Nikolai. Leave. He didn’t back down.

“I didn’t say that, as a matter of fact. I said I got distracted by you being hurt.”

You’re still too close. Get away. Her feet didn’t seem to listen to her brain, which was sparring with her heart for dominance. She turned to her side, away from him.

“Get out, Nikolai.”

“I don’t think I want to.” She was going to kill him.

“I want you to go.”

“And I want to be more handsome than I already am, but some things are just too hard to get.”

Her glare would have made every man on earth shiver with fear. It was apparently useless on Nikolai.

“Enough childish games, Nikolai. Say what you have to say and then leave.”

He sighed. “Just listen to me, please? I really did have a speech. I was out of line the other day, and I didn’t mean a single word I said. I reacted in the worst possible way and I hurt you. And I’m sorry, both for doing it and for waiting too long to realize it.”

She stopped him with an irritated laugh, her eyes slitting silver. How arrogant of him.

“You didn’t hurt me. You were just being the harsh leader you may finally be growing into.”

He shook his head, ignoring the remark, determined to go on with this charade.

“It’s more than that. I should’ve said something sooner. What happened in the Fold...we never got the chance to talk. I don’t know how you are, what you’re going through.” Maybe punching him in the face was not a bad option. Alina did it after all, if she remember correctly. “I let you drift away and I regret that.”

The conversation was steering in dangerous territory. She clenched her jaw and her fists, equally intent as him to stop this.

“You’re gonna regret this if you keep talking.”

“Why?” His controlled tone slipped a bit as he threw his arm in the air, getting more nervous. “What’s wrong with talking? What’s wrong in saying that I was an idiot to behave like I did, that I need my general by my side? That I don’t like all the distance you’re putting between us?”

“There’s no us, Nikolai.” She spatted, fists still clenched, trying to keep the hold on her power already rising inside her. She sensed where this was going and desperately tried to prevent it. “You shouldn’t even be here at this hour. You are going to marry your Shu princess, and be the King Ravka needs. I am your general, as you dutifully pointed out, nothing else. Stop acting like a fool.”

Oh, how well do you lie to yourself. Are you ever gonna stop? That was not the moment for Juris to chide her and mock her, doubting her decisions. She hushed him, trying to focus. Nikolai looked struck at her words; he opened his mouth and then closed it again, seemingly deciding what to say. She narrowed her eyes, an uncomfortable suspicion creeping in her mind. Speechless Nikolai Lantsov was never a good thing.

“Maybe I’m not.” He cleared his throat at her confused look. “I’m not marrying Ehri.”

Juris roared. Zoya widened her eyes in shock: a wave of outrage flooded her thoughts, along with an unwelcome strike of hope she suffocated.

“Nikolai.” His name was said much like a threat. “What on earth are you saying?”

He held up his hands, speaking slowly, trying not to set her off and appease her wrath.

“I need you to trust me on this. I may have another solution, one that doesn’t involve forcing me and Ehri in a loveless marriage we both despise. One that still assures me the alliance.”

She was not having this. The air around them started to feel more dense, the smell of a rainstorm filling the room. Her voice grew louder, her temper brewing.

“I hope you’re joking, or you’re more of a fool that I ever thought possible. Whatever she told you, she’s tricking you. What are you thinking? Ravka is on the brink of destruction, why would you risk your country?”

“It’s not about Ravka.”

"You don’t get to choose, Nikolai. You are a ruler. You have a duty.” He let out an exasperated sound, coming even closer. There was barely the space of a breath within them. She kept going. “You are our King. I won’t let you do something so reckless.”

Now he was losing his temper too, flames burning in his eyes. He caught her wrist, his grip like steel.

“Why do you run from this? Why do you deny yourself of happiness when there’s another way?”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Everything! I don’t want to marry her. And I don’t want to see my country fall.”

“You think you can have it all? Then what do you want, Nikolai?”

He shot her a pleading look, his soul pouring out of his eyes. Her heart missed a beat, as she shook him away and took two steps back, finding herself with her back on the wall. No. She regretted her question in an instant.

You know what he wants. You know who he wants. Juris wasn’t backing out either.

A whisper rolled out of Nikolai’s mouth.

“Zoya…”

“Don’t.” He came towards her. They were dancing; she cast him a warning look.

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no coming back if you say it!” She was shouting now, shivering with rage and dread. “Because I will believe you if you say it and it won’t change anything!” Tears threatened to fall again, her whole body was vibrating with power. She couldn’t hold back anymore, she would’ve hurt him. And yet this stupid boy was not yelding his steps, not afraid of the woman in front of him.

“I’m not giving up on you.”

“Please, Nikolai.” A sob escaped her. Was she pleading with him now? But as much as her, he had made a decision, and he wasn’t gonna abandon his resolve. He went on, unforgiving, holding her gaze and his chin as he spoke.

"You need to hear me. And you can trust me."

"Stop." She was losing.

“It’s always been you, Zoya. You’re the only thing I want.”

The sword drew through her hearth, cracking it open.

Show this boy king what you are.

She threw her fist open unleashing the storm, tears streaming on her cheeks, and shot a speeding gust of wind in his direction. It knocked Nikolai over, trashing him on the floor; he hit the wall, the current howling and holding him in place. The window on her side shattered as lightning fell from the sky, leaving a trail of smoke in their wake. Papers were rustling around the room, a cold breeze sweeping over them; she watched in horror the destruction she brought. Abruptly, the air fell still as she drew away the power, not wanting to meet Nikolai’s eyes and the disgust she was sure to find there.

“Go away, please.”

He heard him breathing heavily, getting back up on his feet. His uncertain steps crunched on all the letters left on the floor.

"Zoya, it’s okay. I’m here."

"Shut up."

Juris wasn’t finished, too. He growled. Don’t be a coward. You should be the Queen.

“Shut up!”

The scream rose from her sore throat and she fell on her knees, hitting the pavement and catching her head between her hands. Her heart hurt. Her lungs hurt. She made a desperate attempt to fight back the pain as she grasped the last bit of sanity in her mind, huddling on herself like a child. Electricity ran through her skin and a final thunder rolled over the room. Everything stopped as the place grew silent, Zoya shaking on the floor.

“I’m not leaving.”

His voice floated to her like they were underwater; it didn’t even tremble, it was calm and firm, not the one of a terriefied man just taken on by a summoned storm. He slowly walked to her again, rubbing the back of his head a little. Did she hurt him? Shame towered over her. He lowered himself down to her; his movements were delicate, attentive, as if she was a wounded animal he needed not to scare. Another whisper came to her and she grasped at it like an anchor.

“I’m not leaving you.”

She felt his hands on hers, his touch soft as a feather as he circled her wrists and he tried to pull her back on her feet with a soft tug. He caught her elbow, steadying her; instinctively her other hand tightened around his shoulder as her vision blurred and focused back on him; she let her head lean on his chest, catching some air. They stayed like that for a while, Nikolai’s tender eyes waiting for her to get back to herself. He gently tilted her chin up to look at her, brushing some strands of hair away from her face and sighed.

“I missed you.”

The words fell on her like an avalanche. There was a fierce purity in this ordinary admission, spoken like a confession he knew she wouldn’t be able to take. There was so much more to this; it spoke of all the things they never allowed themselves to say, of all the stolen glances and forgotten truths; of how they belonged next to each other, the peace and quiet they found together, how hard it was to be apart; of the times she saved him, and the ones he saved her.

Stop fighting, General. Lower your weapons.

She was tired. Saints, she was so tired. She wanted to rest in the comfort of his arms. She felt herself beginning to surrender.

He is yours to keep. She trembled in his hands, shaken by the conviction in Juris’ voice.

Zoya looked at the boy in front of her, still gently grazing her cheek with his knuckles, at his tousled flocks, at the glowing rays of sun hidden in his eyes. She moved one hand to his stunning face, tentatively touching his lips. A shiver went through him, but he stayed perfectly still while a look of confusion and yearning flashed through him.

He has always been yours. Juris roared, sending flames scorching her chest.

Zoya of the broken heart. Be whole again. Take him.

And once again, just like she did in the Fold, Zoya let herself fall.

She pulled him to her with a hand on the back of his neck, closing the distance between them, crashing her lips onto his, releasing the hunger and the despair that plagued her. When they met, it felt like a war. It felt like a blessing. She registered her king reacting in a split second, without even a hint of hesitation: the hand that was on her arm went to hug her waist, drawing her closer than she thought possible with a desperate need, while the other one was now entangled in her hair. He was holding onto her for dear life, as if she would break if he let her go.

Kissing him was a thousand lives and a single fleeting moment, time stretching in this suspended bliss; she broke free, gasping for hair, drowning in the shock of what happened. Nikolai wasn’t a fool, and he knew her all too well; he knew it would only take her the fraction of an instant for realization to dawn over her, so he didn’t let her slip. He pulled her to him again. But that flicker of oxygen to her brain was enough for fear and remorse to clench at her soul. She pushed lightly onto his chest, and this time he got the hint, leaving her mouth and backing up just what was necessary for them both to release their breath. Good, she thought. At least one of us still has some semblance of control . If it really was up to her will, once so unbreakable, she would’ve never stopped.

“Saints, Zoya.” The words rolled out of his mouth in an ushered tone, as if speaking too loudly was bound to break the enchantment cast upon them. She mustered the courage to look at him: he was watching her in awe, the golden freckles in his eyes darkened by a sheer desire. He may have stopped kissing her, but his hands were still keeping her flushed against him, his uneven warm breathing grazing her neck, making it almost unbearable to try and form a coherent thought. Her heart was aching.

“We can’t.” Her voice was barely audible, devoid of every resolve she had hoped to still have in herself. She trained her look on the floor, the pain squeezing the air out of her lungs. What did I just do? Zoya sensed Nikolai shifting closer, brushing his lips on her lashes, her cheekbones. He rested his forehead on hers. Was he smiling? Why was this damned boy smiling? She cast her eyes up; he really was smiling, cocking his head slightly on one side.

“What?”

“You’re really stubborn, you know.” He teased her. Zoya marvelled at his confidence, at how unfazed he seemed at the fact she was basically rejecting him after shoving him against a wall and possibly giving him a concussion. Not that she felt herself being convincing: all ruthlessness seemed to have left her body. She still didn’t trust herself much to talk; each word was agonizing to get out.

“I just told you we can’t do this. Why are you smiling?”

“I know you don’t mean it.” He shrugged his shoulders, still refusing to let her go. Like the truth was as simple as that, and he had the gift of knowing. Fighting this was tiring; the moment their lips met, every carefully hidden thought, every feeling she locked away flooded out with an overwhelming strength, knocking down each and every one of her defenses.

“How come?”

“You haven’t pushed me away. And you did kiss me, just so you remember it.” Zoya’s lips curled a little before she could stop herself, rolling her eyes. Bold as only Nikolai could be in a moment like this. “Someone told me you were going to find a way to surprise me” He mumbled under his breath, lost in thoughts for a second.

“Besides”, he added. “I’m not in a rush. I’ll convince you eventually. You know my charm has no limits.”

She huffed, but didn’t find it in herself to step out of his grip. She was still falling, and he was the one to catch her. Zoya let her hands rest on his chest: she could feel his heart pounding like it was about to take flight, echoing in her mind and sending waves of soothing calm over her. His certainty was endearing.

“You’re insufferable.”

Nikolai looked perfectly at ease, beaming with confidence. He let out an amused chuckle and placed a soft kiss on her hair.

“Don’t run from me.” He turned serious, placing both his hands on the sides of her jaw, keeping their eyes locked together. “I need you with me to face all of this. We’ll find a way; I know we can. We’ll figure everything out together. And we can do this right.”

General Nazyalensky knew better than to trust fragile promises of peace. And yet the hopeful girl she’d been held onto this one like it was a long awaited shore in a storm-swept ocean. She could regret this tomorrow: for tonight, maybe she wanted to be that girl. And against every belief she had, she really did trust him like no one ever before. She found herself nodding lightly, slightly amused by his hint at doing things right. Nikolai and his idiotic sense of honour. The dragon inside her had spread his wings, roaring his power. Bolts of desire were still shooting through her, leaving her brain a mess, and she could see the feeling mirrored in Nikolai’s eyes. She didn’t know that freeing her heart from the cage it was trapped in would taste so sweet and terrifying.

You are the dragon, Zoya. You will bide your time. And you will have it all.

She brought her hand on one of his, still wrapped around her neck, intertwining their fingers. Deep inside of her, the stone hit the bottom of the well: waiting there for her there was a quiet feeling of belonging, a home in which she could be safe. A place full of light in which she could rest. Someone to hold her. Someone who loved her. As the fall stopped, Zoya handed over the fight, easing herself in the embrace of the boy that tore down her walls and built her a fortress.

Tell him to stay. She didn’t know if it was Juris or her heart demanding it.

“Stay with me tonight.”

A breath-taking soft smile enlightened his features. Nikolai leaned towards her, whispering an oath in her ear, a secret to share in the midst of night.

"Always.”

He caught her lips and kissed her again, deeper, with more urgency, leaving whatever sense of self-restraint they were keeping to shatter in a million pieces as the silk of her kefta slided away from her shoulders, wrinkling through his darkened fingers, the demon and the witch.

And the world went on fire.

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #fan fiction #zoyalai #angst with a happy ending #i love them so much why #my writing #rule of wolves #king of scars

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magnoliapip · 3 years

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Ranked: Mother of the Year (Choices) Main Characters

I can’t sleep so that means I need to make another list that I’m not going to proofread before I post, right? Of course it does. But before we start, please remember this is my opinion on who I liked best. Not who impacted the story the most, not who was the best written fictional character of all time, yada yada. This is my personal opinion of the characters I liked best.

Spoilers WILL be featured below. You have been warned.

#13 -- Tallulah Copeland

Tallulah is a parent to a child at Bernhardt Academy, a friend of Vanessa Blackwood, and an active member of the PTA. Hugo is her partner.

This woman. I would flat forget this woman existed until she would show up again just to wreak havoc on MC’s day, usually at someone else’s urging. Every single time she spoke, I just wanted it to be over and she is just an awful, AWFUL person. She’s also the only awful person in this book who never pretends to be nice and/or never apologizes for her actions. Just an all around nasty person.

#12 -- Hugo

Hugo is a parent of a child at Bernhardt Academy and an active member of the PTA. Tallulah is his significant other.

If you’re actually reading these little blurbs, you have to be wondering “MagnoliaPip? How in the hell is Hugo ranked lower than two other unmentionables in this story?”

Thank you for asking, no one ever.

Put frankly, Hugo just annoyed the crap out of me. I know that’s supposed to be part of his character, but it went above and beyond the scope of acceptable annoyance. I grew to hate every second he was speaking. He never really contributed anything to the plot other than some irritating drivel. He wasn’t an antagonist, but he also wasn’t a pleasing good guy. He’s also the reason I’m considering not re-reading this book again right away like I want to.

#11 -- Guy Ledford

This man. This. Man. THIS MAN!

This part is going to include major spoilers, y’all, so if you haven’t read it and are still intending to, skip away now!! Again, major spoilers from here on out kids.

Guy Ledford is your main character’s ex-husband who has been absent for four years since the start of the book and wants to reconnect with his daughter. He is also a CEO of a snack food company/app, Nomme. He is the main antagonist of the book.

The reason I didn’t rank him lower is he genuinely adds something to the plot. He IS the plot. He’s the reason this book exists. However, he is such a scumbag he deserves nothing. He feels like a trope for quite a lot of the time, but at least he’s not physically abusive like a true trope could have been (at least, I never noticed him being physically abusive). Just, you know, a gaslighting, manipulative, arrogant, rude, selfish son of a-

I also love that they named him “Guy”. I’ve only ever met one man named this in my life, so it’s funny to me that they named this jerk “Guy” so it’s not only the most generic sounding name (did his parents also get a dog named “Dog” and a cat named “Kitty”?), but also one that a lot of men won’t likely have so they don’t have to get name checked in relation to him.

I like that you can get a good outcome (Guy ends up with joint custody with visitations every weekend and having to back pay) without spending diamonds in this game as long as you make the right choices, but for those who DID spend all of the diamonds, I would have liked to have seen Guy end up with worse. I would have liked to see, if you made most of the right choices and bought all of the diamond stuff, him ending up with every other weekend or maybe just visitation. I know he’s trying to be a good dad (but still an absolutely terrible human being), but every weekend seems like so much when your daughter is in school.

#10 -- Augustus Blackwood

August Blackwood is one of Vanessa Blackwood’s sons and is a student at Bernhardt Academy.

I’m not going to spend a lot of time on this one. But he hurt my daughter and that’s enough. I would have liked to have seen him fleshed out a little bit more beyond being basically just a schoolyard bully. His motivations for his actions are hinted on, but nothing is really ever done and he’s mostly just a prop for something to hurt your daughter.

#9 -- Vanessa Blackwood

Vanessa Blackwood is the president of the PTA, a single mom, and a lawyer and becomes an antagonist to your character.

I’m probably going to get hate for this, but I want to like Vanessa. Obviously, she’s hateful and offensive, in some very, very unredeemable ways, but there’s something about characters like that which makes me want to forgive them and teach them how to be better. How to rehabilitate their bitterness. I felt it with Olivia Nevrakis, I felt it with Victoria Fontaine, and I know certain people in the fandom felt it with Becca Davenport and Poppy Min-Sinclair.

**DISCLAIMER** Keep in mind, I’m not trying to excuse homophobia and racism here. They are both despicable things and should be accounted for. However, after having grown up in a homophobic and racist home and learning to leave that shit in the dust by the time I was eighteen and SLOWLY teaching my family to do the same over the course of the last 10 years, I believe people can change if you give them room and help to. Not everyone will, not many people will, but I believe in giving the chance. We need to force people to take responsibility and learn from their mistakes. Should the book have been approved as a series rather than a stand alone, I think this might have been a very real option within book 2.

#8 -- Ajax “AJ” Blackwood

Ajax Blackwood is one of Vanessa Blackwood’s sons and a student at Bernhardt Academy.

AJ is the quieter of the Blackwood boys, AJ is a shy kid who hates that his brother is mean just as much as your daughter does. He finally has enough within the book and stands up to him, which was more than a little satisfying and he does seem to have a genuinely good heart. I think it would be so cute for him, your daughter, and Luz to be their own adorable trio of friends.

#7 -- Levi Schuler

Levi Schuler is your neighbor who helps save the day for MC early on in the book and becomes a friend to both her and your daughter. He is also one of your love interests.

And if this list is going to invoke hate from the masses, it will be this entry that does it. I know how loved Levi is. And I love him too! I just find him, and his musician plot, to be a bit tiring. He’s a wonderfully supportive friend/love interest, just about one of the nicest people, and he’s great with your daughter. I swear, all of the love interests in this book would be god tier in any book. It’s truly unfair to the others that we got three amazing ones here along with a great cast of characters. However, since that did happen, Levi will sit here at #7. He can have a consolatory rugelach while I continue on.

#6 -- Faye Devore

Faye Devore is your ex-husband’s new girlfriend, a younger social media influencer.

I loved Faye. Right from the start, I loved Faye. I prayed they weren’t going to make this into one of those books where we were supposed to hate the “other woman” because those plots are old, outdated, and overused. Thankfully, MOTY lets us skirt right around it and we end up with a wonderful character like Faye, who is the human definition of having the best intentions.

She gets on well with your daughter, even pointing out to MC at one point that she thinks of her like a little sister, and goes above and beyond to make her happy. She is genuinely upset about going against MC’s wishes about your daughter appearing on social media and doesn’t appear to want to cause any harm or hard feelings with MC at any point during the book. In fact, she wants to be friends.

I would have loved for this and for it to be fleshed out more, again, if we had ever gotten a book 2. I’m also that jerk who would have totally romanced her in a replay and would have emptied my wallet to get a scene in that hypothetical book 2 where Guy finds out. Take that homophobe!

#5 -- Dr. Eiko Matsunaga

Dr. Eiko Matsunaga is a science teacher who teaches at the private school your daughter goes to and becomes friendly with MC because of your daughter. She is also one of your love interests.

If I would have had a teacher like Dr. Matsunaga when I was in school, maybe I would have cared about science at any point during my childhood. Eiko is so incredibly smart but has a heart of gold. She could be off teaching at colleges or writing published journals, but she’s teaching elementary science at a private school and honestly enjoying herself! She wants to see children succeed and will give any child who wants to do so, like your daughter, all of the help they need.

I want to romance her. I want to be her friend. I want it all because I’m selfish even when I don’t because I could never possibly be worthy of the supremacy that is Eiko. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#4 -- Your Daughter / Zoey

Your daughter is 9 years old at the start of the book and desperately wants to be an astronaut. She is a science whiz and moves from public school to Bernhardt Academy at the beginning of the book to kickstart her education.

It makes me so sad that I will never actually have this child. “Zoey” is just so smart and funny and sweet and I love her so much. I spent so many diamonds on her. She’s a pixelated little bundle of amazing and I would die for her. That’s it.

#3 -- Alma Velasco

Alma Velasco is your neighbor, best friend, and (for part of the time) co-worker.

What did our character do to deserve such an amazing ride-or-die friend like Alma? She never disbelieves MC, is forever supportive as a shoulder to cry on and a supplier of good wine, and also helps MC out of more than one pinch. Seriously an amazing friend, and I wish we could have done something equally amazing for her to reciprocate.

#2 -- Thomas Mendez

Thomas Mendez is a lawyer and a single dad who becomes friends with MC very early on in the book. He is also one of your three love interests.

A big reason for why Thomas is at #2 is because of who #1 is but we’ll get there in a second.

There’s also something about Thomas that speaks to me as a person. It’s more than just being interested as a love interest or as a friend. There’s something about who he is. His awkwardness, his humor, his kindness and his generosity all make him someone I envy as much as I admire.

He takes on MC’s case pro bono when he doesn’t have to. He shrugs it off like it’s no big deal, but stepping back and looking at the it, by all accounts he was walking into a handily losing situation. He was also super busy at this time being a single parent himself and working on his class action lawsuit. That’s not even saying anything about him still grieving for Soledad.

However, the biggest reason I love Mr. Mendez is...

#1 -- Luz Mendez

Luz Mendez is a student at Bernhardt Academy who becomes best friends with your daughter early in the book. She is a soccer and art fan.

This little girl is the best thing I have ever read in my entire life. She made the entire book. Every character that came before her pales in comparison to her majesty. She is a goddamn queen and deserves everything.

Every scene with her is gold and I wish we had more. This little girl was completely willing to curb stomp someone with her cleats at the courthouse if something would have happened to your daughter. She is so aggressively herself and it is a joy to see. The relationship between her and her father is what really kept me going through the book’s more difficult spots. There is such true love and acceptance there, as well as the drive and desire to do better for the other than I just...There is really no way for me to properly explain the perfection that is Luz Mendez so I guess you’ll just have to read it yourself.

---

I’m not sure why it took me so long to start reading Mother of the Year (MOTY), but I’m so glad I did. In 3 days flat I binged the entire book, wasted so many accumulated diamonds, and had the time of my life. The cast of characters in MOTY is perfect and I wanted to rank them according to my opinion on which ones were the best. I ranked all of the characters I found to be profound enough to matter to the storyline or that MC or “Daughter” had enough interactions with to matter. As a result, there are several characters who didn’t make this list.

Sound off below if you wish.

#choices spoilers #choices mother of the year #moty #choices moty #mother of the year #luz mendez #thomas mendez #levi schuler #eiko matsunaga #alma velasco #guy ledford #faye devore #vanessa blackwood #mother of the year spoilers #moty spoilers #spoilers

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pappydaddy · 4 years

Text

Heather Part Two (j.m.)

A/N: Okay, so I have decided to start saying as little as possible in my A/Ns just to see if it brings in more interaction, if you guys want me to continue my ramblings, just shoot me a DM or something and I won’t stop them. This is a repost bc nobody saw this the first time?? Pls interact with this (preferably reblogging, but likes are good too!)

Anywho, this is the second part of Heather (my JJ imagine based on Heather by Conan Gray) and this is told from JJ’s perspective, I got this idea when I found this kinda parody/cover of the original song which will be linked below. I put some different scenes in this one too so it’s not just a retelling of my first part. Anyway, enjoy!!

Show/Movie: Outer Banks

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Warnings: Sad, angst, longing, negative thoughts about oneself (appearance, personality, etc), comparing to other people, jealousy, unspoken feelings

Might do a part three? I’ll probably do a part three.

Heather Cover by Zachary Tay

Part One | Part Two - You’re here!

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

He didn’t technically see her when she arrived at the beach, but he still knew she was there before she wandered down the dunes. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, trying to get a peek of her. There she was, her shoes swinging by her side, her hair blowing in the wind as she walked. She didn’t look towards the group of her friends, instead, she scanned the beach and JJ found himself missing her gorgeous eyes. He watched her, her eyes slowly drifting towards the fire JJ sat at. In a spilt second, their eyes connected and JJ wished he could stay in her gaze forever, but her eyes were ripped from his as she breezed past the group.

The girl under his arm laughed loudly, making him draw his eyes away from Y/N. He looked at the black-haired girl (Heather) donned in his sweater, clinging to him as she laughed at something John B had said. “What’s so funny,” JJ asked, trying to play off his absence. He didn’t really listen to John B’s recount. “Oh, must have had to heard it in the moment, I guess.” He mumbled, his eyes following Y/N as Jack, her co-worker from The Wreck ran towards her, a large smile on his face. He took in Y/N’s appearance, the sweater she wore was too big for her, it certainly wasn’t hers. It dawned on him like a lighting strike; it was Jack’s sweater. He felt a pang in his heart, remembering how she looked in his own sweater, the very sweater Heather wore right in that moment.

He remembered how good Y/N looked in his sweater and how often she wore it after he had given it to her. On Heather, it was just a piece of polyester fabric, but on Y/N, it was much more than just a sweater. The day she gave his sweater back to him was the day he concluded that she didn’t like him. He couldn’t imagine how he even thought she would like him, he’s not even good enough for his father and he could barely stand himself. How the hell would Y/N want him if he didn’t even want himself? He didn’t even understand how Heather liked him.

His eyes followed Jack as he ran off once again, obviously apologizing profusely to Y/N. Jack was everything JJ wasn’t: sweet, smart, hard-working, career driven, and loved. JJ wanted to hate Jack, but he couldn’t, he was too good of a person. He could see that Y/N and Jack would make a good couple, he could see why Y/N would have her gaze set on him. His dark hair, his tall stature, his boy-next-door smile - he was the complete package.

Setting his eyes on Y/N yet again, he saw her sit down on a piece of driftwood, staring out at the ocean as the waves lapped up towards her barefeet. He let himself imagine that the sweater she was wrapped up in was his. He often replayed the December night he gave his sweater to her in his head, imagining that he had actually done what he wanted - kissing her. He liked to live in that alternate story at night, laying in his bed. He sighed, glad he didn’t kiss her in the long-run, for he didn’t know who he liked more: Y/N or Heather. “JJ, you should tell Heather about that one time when John B was high off his ass when CPS came knocking on his door.” Kie laughed, capturing JJ’s attention from the girl sitting on the driftwood.

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure.” JJ laughed, remembering that day as he launched into his story. Though his eyes weren’t on her, Y/N still plagued his mind, having been there that day as well, skipping school to smoke with JJ and John B. He laughed as he retold the story, poking fun at John B, but leaving Y/n out of the story, not wanting to pull her into his fling with Heather, knowing there will be drama if he did.

Though he was immersed in the story he was telling, he still noticed Y/N standing and walking along the beach, leaving the party before it even started. The bleeding colours in the sky made her skin glow with pink and orange, making her look like the figure of beauty. As she walked away, JJ could have cried. He didn’t understand how he, the boy who wanted nothing to do with the messiness of love, ended up in this situation.

____

The words Kie had told him earlier rattled in his brain like a single pill in a bottle. His mind played that moment back like a movie reel continuously playing. Once it ended, it restarted again. Like a painful torture device used to drive him to the brink of insanity.

“I don’t get why Y/N keeps avoiding us! We never see her anymore, not since Heather started hanging out with us,” JJ groaned, plunking himself down on the couch dramatically. He had asked Y/N earlier at school (after cornering her at her locker) if she wanted to have a movie night just like old times, but she had told him she was going to study for a big biology test she had. “Why does she even need to study anyway? She’s at the top of her biology class, only second to Pope, of course.” JJ threw in the last comment, pleasing his friend who sat beside him on the couch, a freshly popped bowl of popcorn in his lap.

“You guys do know why, right?” Kie asked, looking over her shoulder at them as she shifted through the DVD collection, the group deciding to go old school for the night. JJ shook his head while John B and Pope both nodded, making noises of understanding. JJ looked around, confusion clearly painted on his face.

“Y/N still likes JJ.” Pope commented, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chewing it as if what he had just said was common knowledge.

“What?” JJ asked, panicked, glad that Heather was hanging out with some of her other friends tonight instead of being with them. If she had been here, he would have never be given this piece of information.

“You didn’t know?” John B asked, bewildered that JJ hadn’t picked up on anything.

“Obviously not-” JJ cried, his eyes wide.

“It was obvious, we all thought you had known by at least December third when you gave her your sweater, we thought that was you making your move on her finally.” Kie explained, shrugging.

JJ still couldn’t believe that. If only he had seen how much she liked him, maybe he wouldn’t be praying for his eyes to catch her’s every time she walked by him. Maybe he wouldn’t want to cry every time they broke eye contact. Maybe he wouldn’t have assumed she likes Jack. He groaned, flopping around in the spare bed at John B’s, staring up at the dark ceiling as moonlight casted the window’s shadow onto the white surface.

If he had known how much Y/N liked him that night, he wouldn’t be questioning who he liked more still. Maybe he didn’t like Heather at all. Now that he knew that Y/N likes him, he started to realize that maybe he didn’t truly like Heather, instead, only liking the idea of the distraction from the one he really liked. Though he realized this, he couldn’t do anything about it anytime soon. He had plans to eat lunch tomorrow with Heather and the group, he couldn’t break up with Heather at The Wreck.

_____

Y/N was working today. That was the whole reason they were eating at The Wreck, to see her. John B and Pope missed her, Kie was able to see her during the shifts they shared or during shift changes, but the boys hadn’t seen her. JJ and Heather stood on the deck, leaning against the railing and JJ was giving the performance of his life. He couldn’t have Heather thinking that something was going on with him (he still had no idea who he liked more) so he was trying to act as normal as possible around her despite the fact that a war raged in his mind.

He tried to keep his eyes on Heather as she talked adamantly. JJ nodded along, not really listening. Heather was beautiful and kind, but JJ grew bored easily. They had nothing in common. He was a surfer, she was from the city filled with concrete buildings and shopping malls. She just didn’t understand the joy in the little things. When JJ wanted to stargaze, she’d rather gaze at a TV screen. When JJ wanted to just sit on the beach and listen to the waves, she wanted to take pictures. When JJ just wanted to sit on his surfboard and let the waves roll under him, she didn’t want to ruin her make-up.

Her hand squeezed his as she asked him about the stores he shopped at. He, not wanting to ignore her, joined her one-sided conversation and explained his mode of gaining clothes. She listened for the most part, but listening wasn’t really Heather’s strong suit. She loved to talk, not that JJ minded, but he would also like to have a conversation without being interrupted with a completely different story. He shot a glance in through the door, seeing Y/N at a table, talking with the costumers. She nodded, a shining smile on her face. JJ loved talking with Y/N. She’d listen, she’d talk. He’d listen, he’d talk. It was a perfectly balanced conversation with Y/N.

He looked back down at Heather when she had asked him yet another question, but JJ wasn’t listening. “I’m sorry, what?” He asked, blinking. Heather giggled, thinking JJ was just a spacey type person who stared off in the distance, zoning out easily.

“I asked about your shark tooth necklace, I’ve always wanted one.” She told him, the hand, that wasn’t in his, reaching up to fiddle with the shark tooth. JJ looked down at it, smiling fondly.

“My friend made it for me with the shark tooth I found, I’ve never taken it off since they gave it to me.” He left out that it was Y/N who made it for him while she was going through her necklace making phase in middle school. She had made it too big originally, but it was okay since JJ grew since then.

“Oh, well, maybe I could wear it sometime,” Heather asked flirtatiously. JJ gulped, not knowing what to say. He didn’t want to give it to her, but he didn’t want to start a fight before they ate a meal with his friends in public. Instead of answering, he pressed his lips to her’s in a lingering, long kiss. Heather smiled, giggling against his lips. Pulling away from the kiss, JJ glanced at the parking lot to see if John B and Pope were there yet, but his eyes came up with nothing. Heather shivered as a strong wind blew by them. “I’m a little cold.”

JJ looked down at her, seeing that she didn’t have his sweater on. It was different, when Y/N had his sweater, she always wore it, or at least brought it, just in case she got cold. Heather didn’t bring it anywhere unless JJ asked about it. Wordlessly, JJ unlaced their fingers, dropping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him. “I wonder if Y/N is cold? She doesn’t have a sweater on, only a t-shirt.” He thought, watching the parking lot out of the corner of his eye. He sighed, trying to clear his mind.

“Yo! Let’s get some grub! I’m starving,”John B cheered, piling out of the van with Pope who cheered in agreement. JJ pulled away a bit too quick to play it off as normal while John B and Pope jogged up the stairs, their sneakers slapping the wooden deck. They walked right into the restaurant, leaving Heather and JJ to follow them. The bell above the door dinged, making Y/N and Jack look up from what they were doing. JJ looked up, seeing Jack leaning across Y/N, his shoulder touching her torso ever so lightly as he cleaned up spilt water. “Hi, Y/N! Where is your section?” John B asked.

“Sorry, John B, I’ll have to take your table so she can get cleaned up, next time.” Jack told him, getting another dry towel to try and help her dry her clothes so she wasn’t dripping everywhere. JJ could sense John B’s disappointment, and he had to admit he was a little bit disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to hear Y/N’s sweet voice that he missed so much.

“Thanks, Jack,” John B nodded his chin in Jack’s direction. “Maybe we’ll talk before we leave, Y/N.” Y/N looked back up from her shirt at the mention of her name, nodding. Their eyes connected as Kie and Heather jumped into a conversation. Every time their eyes connected, it was such a relief to JJ it truly was a sight for sore eyes. Much to his disappointment, their eye contact was gone as fast as it came when Jack interrupted.

“That should be good, Y/N,” She looked from JJ’s eyes to meet Jack’s. The sight of her eyes connecting with Jack’s made JJ want to cry, missing that tiny connection that seemed to be the extent of their friendship these days. “You should go get changed, I’ll take these to the table for you, table four, right?” The group started to move, but JJ wanted to stay there, see if their eye would meet again before she disappeared to change, but he had to go with them. He was just out of earshot when she replied to Jack who carried the tray of drinks towards table four effortlessly.

____

He knew he shouldn’t have done this at school. He was kicking himself as Heather weeped, her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Heather,” He whispered, nervously looking at the crowd watching them. They were stood next to the side of the building, the crowd gathering in the parking lot. He had tried to do it privately, but he also wanted a clean cut. When he saw his sweater in Heather’s hand, he had known that today was the day. “It’s just not working out.” He tried to console her, his fist gripping the sweater he held now.

The group watching whispered, making JJ roll his eyes. Now he was going to be painted the villain, the heartless asshole who broke up with the girl in front of the whole school even though they just see her weeping and gasping, not the part where JJ was actually considerate for once. Normally, it was a harsh slap to his cheek and a few tears slipping past their eyes as they walked away, not full on sobs. Especially since they were only going out for three weeks - tops.

Heather looked up from her hands, letting her arms swing at her sides as she glared at JJ. Black streaks of makeup cascading down her cheeks. With a final, harsh glare at JJ, she ran off, the group of people parting to let her through. JJ watched her run, his shoulders deflating at his ruined chance of keeping the break-up private. His eyes landed on one of the pairs of people Heather parted in her haste to escape: Y/N and Jack. They stood side by side, Jack holding both their books in his hands, both their bookbag straps on his shoulders.

The group quickly dispersed, giving JJ a perfect view of them. He could see Jack say something to Y/N before she said something back, their eyes catching each other, once again making eye contact. JJ was so absorbed in her eyes that he didn’t notice the sympathetic smile she sent his way. It felt like forever as he stared into her eyes, her just staring back. He wanted her to stay, he wanted to stay, but he couldn’t just break-up with Heather and then turn around, rush towards Y/N, sweep her off her feet and profess his love for her - then he would be an asshole.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s go. We can’t be late for our shift.” JJ heard Jack tell her, forcing her to break away from JJ’s eyes. He felt tears prick his eyes at the loss of their moment. His eyes never left her, once again hoping for their eyes to connect again, even though he had to watch her eyes connect with Jack’s which caused his heart to throb painfully. Watching her turn and walk towards Jack’s pick-up truck was the sight that made him want to die, then the pain in his heart would stop - right? The picture of her sitting in his passanger seat didn’t sit right with JJ. The thump of Jack tossing their books and bags in the bed of his truck made JJ flinch, but he still never took his eyes off Y/N, not even when Jack slipped onto the bench seat beside her, starting his truck and slamming his door.

His pleas were answered when Y/N turned to gaze out the window, their eyes connecting once again in a fleeting moment before Jack slowly pulled out of the spot, exiting the nearly empty parking lot. JJ watched the truck as it drove down the road, waiting until it was out of his sight before he moved. He found out who he liked more. It was Y/N. It was always Y/N.

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hisakata-resutomoshibi · 4 years

Text

Part two to this post that no one asked for-

There are smiles of Mikuni's that remind Jeje of someone, though he can not quite place who that someone is.

These are the ones that are most meaningful, the ones that Mikuni lets show unfiltered, un-tempered with hidden plans or ulterior motive; a purely honest smile that reaches from the corners of his gently curved lips up to his eyes, melting them from cold steel to sun warmed gold. They are Jeje's favorites, even though he could probably count the number of times he's seen them in the years they've been together on just two hands.

There were other things about Mikuni that rang familiar, like a church bell in the foggy morning, but Jeje didn't like to think too deeply about things like that. The past was best left where it was for unchangeable things would only ever bring stasis and suffering to the soul. All of this would run occasionally through his mind, incorporeal, idle musings that held no sway over his mood, and he would let them, carefully keeping his distance until they had once more passed. It remained this way until one morning when he glanced towards the kitchen doorway after hearing Mikuni give a frustrated shout.

"Damn it!" He yelled once more for good measure, staring down at the pancake he had been attempting to catch in the pan, and missed by a good three feet, sending batter splattering across the floor.

Jeje turned back to his ship, hiding the tiny smile that hovered over his lips. He had warned him that it was more difficult than it looked.

"What do you say we just skip the pancakes?" Mikuni asked boisterously, coming to lean in the doorway, arms crossed as he watched Jeje work. "And call a maid service."

Still fighting the telltale look of amusement, Jeje kept his head down, back bent over the miniature, and Mikuni huffed in annoyance. When, after seven stitches along the sail, he still hadn't returned to the kitchen, Jeje sighed and finally glanced back at him. "I'm not hungry."

"You're never hungry!" Mikuni accused, throwing his hands up. "Well, I need coffee at least." But he made no move to turn back and instead his eyes shifted to the small sail held so carefully in Jeje's hand and he grinned, that snarky, unwelcome grin that Jeje found so grating. "So, what's with the tiny boats anyway?"

He asked it as a slight, as a harmless poke at Jeje as he was so wont to do whenever he was feeling inadequate or embarrassed and normally Jeje let these roll off his back, forgiving the youth their ignorance, but something about the question was sharp and quick. It took aim and hit a memory that Jeje had not even known he had lost. As he sat, staring unseeingly at Mikuni, he felt the small needle and canvas square fall from his hands, and Mikuni's gaze shifted from teasing to a curious worry as he watched but Jeje could not find his tongue to redirect the situation.

A name had hit him with the force of a bullet. A soft, lilting name that he had not said or heard in over four centuries.

Matteo.

Matteo had taught him the infuriating art of bottling ships.

All at once, as though it had been a floodgate that had suddenly been thrown open, everything that had been repressed came flowing back, drowning him in the fear and rage and hurt again. So heavy and loud were the waves of emotion that it was several times before he heard Mikuni call his name and when he finally pulled himself back up, resurfaced from beneath the crushing weight of failure and regret, it was to find Mikuni crouched in front of him, brows twisted in unease, hands resting on his stiff shoulders.

"Are you ok?"

If he had been any more in his right mind, Jeje would have found it absolutely staggering to hear such a simple, caring question directed at him, but as it was, he was not capable of thought, and so he merely stared blankly back into the wild golden eyes and tried to decide if he was actually going to throw up.

With all the force of will left in his body he managed finally to breath a weak "yeah" and then could only pray Mikuni would lose interest, his ever busy mind discarding the experience as inconsequential. At first it seemed that Mikuni was going to ask another question, try to dig deeper into the newly unearthed, bloody remains of Jeje's sanity, but after a moment his eyes darted away, back towards the kitchen, and he stood, letting his hands fall from where they rested.

"Get ready to go. I wanna go into town for a cappuccino."

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

The fresh morning air was welcome and helped to clear his head.

It was rather sunny and so he had finally given up the effort and simply wrapped himself around Mikuni's neck as he so often did, secretly reveling in the warmth. Mikuni's endless chatter also helped to soothe him and soon enough he was dozing off, having learned long ago that listening to anything Mikuni said with any amount of concentration was pointless. It was better to just get the gist, check out, and then when prompted, respond affirmatively.

Times like this, times without subterfuge and scheming and fighting were his favorite and Jeje always tried to keep the feeling of them bundled up tightly and safely where he could access it again later. He grew so tired of the constant warring, and, if he were being honest, a content, safe Mikuni was far better than a frigid, angered one. This Mikuni, like the one that made pancakes sometimes and liked lavender scented candles and would play solitaire and drink coffee all morning, was softer and gentler, less likely to poke and prod and be generally annoying. It was definitely Jeje's favorite version, but he was so very unusual to see.

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

It seemed that Mikuni had taken more note of Jeje's strange episode than he had let on for it soon became apparent that he was suggesting more and more early morning walks with badly concealed concern, his tone light and fake as he insisted that the coffee shop downtown was better and he just simply couldn't bare to have anything else.

"You are so dramatic." Jeje sighed finally, standing in defeat and tucking the small book he had been reading back into his pocket. "Let's go."

"What is that?" Mikuni asked, his eyes tracking the movement of Jeje's hands as he retied the cinch at his waist.

"What is what?"

"That little book."

Jeje hesitated, it was rare for Mikuni to show any interest in anything Jeje did at all aside from the occasional mad inquiry, and when he found genuine interest in Mikuni's expression, he gave in and pulled the book free once more. Holding it out for Mikuni to take, he started towards the door. "I'll tell you on the way."

It wasn't until several blocks later that he finally began to explain, glancing over and watching as Mikuni browsed the first few pages of the little directory. "It is a book of-"

"Names!" Mikuni interrupted, eyes still glued to the tiny text. "But they're odd."

"They are predominantly Italian." When Mikuni only raised a brow in question, he continued. "Genealogies of Vatican City, and any related diocese."

"Uh huh." Mikuni hummed skeptically. "And why are you reading this? Is this what your little errand was the other day? You went to the library?"

Jeje did not dignify this with a response, deciding he had said enough. There was no need to explain that he had been- was- desperately scouring any and all census sheets, service rosters, anything he could find, for the name Matteo Rossi. It wasn't anything he wanted to explain even if he could figure out a way to. But Mikuni was clever, dangerously so, and soon he was watching Jeje, the book still clutched in his hands.

"Who are you looking for?"

Closing his eyes, Jeje sighed. It was no use trying to keep anything from Mikuni, he knew this, had relied until now on his inherent disinterest in anything about him to protect him from prying eyes, but as was always the case with such a troublesome man, he had decided at exactly the wrong time to become invested. "A man I used to know."

A strange emotion passed over Mikuni's face, one that Jeje could not quite place, as though he were painfully curious but angry, and he flipped the book closed, handing it back. "How typical." When Jeje did not answer, he pointed out over the street. "That's the shop I'm trying today, come on."

The sky had been over cast when they left and was still obligingly dark and so it was that Jeje was following along on his own two feet today. When he had just stepped up to the curb across the street he heard it- the soft, musical voice of someone speaking quick, fluent Italian. It struck some secret place deep in his mind and without thinking he froze, eyes searching the crowd, somehow knowing, feeling it in his gut that- yes- just in front of them, sitting in the cozy little veranda chairs of the very coffee shop that Mikuni had set his heart on, were two men. Each was dressed in long black robes, the telltale vestments laid carefully over their shoulders- Jeje would know the look anywhere- with steaming mugs of drink clutched in their hands, but it wasn't the dress of the men that caught his eye, but the shining autumn brown of the youngers hair, soft and constant looking as though he had just stepped from out of a summer storm.

In a daze, Jeje found himself walking towards the table where the men sat, unsure why he was even approaching. When he came to rest at the very edge of their table, both glanced quizzically up at him and he was suddenly terrified. They could not see his face, and it would not matter if they could or not either way surely, but what of his soul? Could they sense it? None had ever before but that had been years, centuries, ago.

"Is there something we can help you with?" The younger one asked brightly, smiling. The other man threw him a vaguely disgruntled look and Jeje could have laughed.

Of course. Matteo always was a bleeding heart.

Jeje felt Mikuni's curiosity pull at him through the contract, sharp and impatient, but he ignored it, and for the first time in all the recent years, spoke without the use of the illusionary magic of his curse, the words fitting like a glove on his tongue, a language he had never thought to need again. “No. I’m sorry, Father.”

"Ah! It is always so nice to hear a familiar language, no?" He responded in Italian as well now and Jeje felt the eons slide away, leaving him oddly bereft and exposed.

Mikuni's curiosity had spiked, tinted now with an almost violent irritation, when he had failed to understand what Jeje had said and, fearlessly, he barged suddenly forward, putting himself too closely to Jeje's elbow, staring down at the men. "Who is this?"

At his words, the young mans brows rose in subtle amusement and he once more smiled. "I am Father Matthias." He said, holding out a hand.

Jeje had never been more tempted to shoot Mikuni on the spot then when he merely snorted, arms crossed defiantly across his chest and refused the offer. To his credit, Matthias seemed unfazed by this and after a moment glanced at Jeje and extended the same hand. It was with great trepidation, nay, an almost debilitating hesitation, that he finally reached out and clasped it in his own.

It was like any other hand, warm and smooth; there was no shock, no angry gods lightning strike, just a simple handshake. Unsure if he was disappointed or relieved, he withdrew his and swallowed nervously. Why had he approached these men? What did he hope to accomplish? This was not truly Matteo, and never would be. There had been no spark of recognition in his soft brown eyes, no sudden flash of memory or past life. He should not have come over here. He should walk away right now, spare himself the anguish and the tangible building of Mikuni's wrath. He should-

"Why don't you have a seat?" Matthias asked, gesturing to the two empty seats at the table. "We just got here and like I said, it's always nice to hear the mother tongue!"

He sat down, not thinking, acting on impulse, and behind him heard Mikuni make a strangled noise of outrage. Not bothering to wonder if he would throw a fit and run away or not, he turned towards the other man and held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

After staring at him for a moment, he put out his hand as well, meeting him in the middle, wrapping calloused, short fingers over his. "Father Angelo."

Matthias clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. "You're always so dour!"

Jeje's heart, already beating at an irregular, surely unhealthy, tempo, sped up and he barely kept the gasp building in his chest from breaking free and falling garishly on the table in front of everyone. Hands clamped unseen on his thighs, he bit his tongue until he tasted blood and struggled to stay afloat.

"So what are you two supposed to be?" Mikuni asked suddenly, apparently having decided that his curiosity outweighed his annoyance. Leaning forward on the table, arms crossed, he tipped his head to indicate the deep purple stole that lay over their shoulders. "Priests?"

"Obviously." Jeje muttered under his breath, earning a kick to his ankle from Mikuni who continued to smile predacious-ly across the table.

"Correct!" Matthias said, pointing down at his robes.

"We're exorcists." Angelo then cut in, watching Mikuni as though waiting for a specific reaction.

He had feared it. In seeing the collars and rosaries, Jeje had come to the conclusion that they must be so, but had held out a vain hope, a desperate plea, that he was wrong, had simply forgotten even more than he originally thought he had lost to the sands of time. It had been a surprise to find that, when he had met those familiar warm, kind eyes, he had felt no anger, no hatred or loathing, just a simple yearning and pitiful nostalgia. Now, sneaking a look at Matthias as he leaned forward, immune to Mikuni's prickly aura, to explain their reason for being here, Jeje realized that he also was not shocked that, in a world such as this, where he could be ripped from the mortal plain so easily, where werewolves and demons and vampires were real, he did not find it at all hard to believe that reincarnation was also a fact of life.

"So tell me!" Matthias turned to Jeje, expression open and friendly. "Your pronunciation is beautiful! Where did you grow up?"

"Ah. I was from... Vatican City." He stumbled over the name, distracted by the increasingly interested looks Mikuni was giving him; no doubt he would be paying for this when they got home. Throwing caution to the winds, he continued, trying to keep his voice audible despite his nerves. "I studied. In the seminary. There."

"You don't say!" Matthias exclaimed, grinning. "What stopped you?"

Still studiously ignoring Mikuni's quiet, varying sounds of surprise, he hesitated, chest tight. "I was- not suited to the calling."

His eyes softening in compassion, Matthias laid a hand on Jeje's arm where it rested on the table. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. We all have different fates. There are many ways to answer Him."

Jeje was staring down at the hand, the gentle fingers and pale expanse of skin, just as freckled as his face, and it was only when Mikuni subtly dug a boot into his ankle that he tore his eyes away. Feeling his face heat and for just a moment forgetting that they could not see it, he ducked his head down. "That may be true, yes." He managed to murmur. Matthias withdrew his hand slowly, looking curious but didn't say anything, and it was, strangely, Mikuni who broke the ensuing silence.

"As I'm sure you've both surmised, I am not from Italy. But I am interested- tell me, how does one go about becoming a priest?" He was staring hard at Angelo, singling him out to answer and leaving Matthias free, amused and trying not to laugh, to turn to Jeje once more.

Still grinning, he shrugged to indicate that he had no intentions of rescuing Angelo from Mikuni's rabid questioning and instead leaned over, pointing at the bag over Jeje's head. "Forgive me, as you've already seen I have a tendency to stick my foot in my mouth-" He laughed and Jeje almost gave himself away, almost let slip a wistful "I know", and then continued. "But I wanted to ask. Why do you have that on?"

A hand reaching up unconsciously to pat lightly at the brown pressed pulp, Jeje bit his lip. What kind of explanation even made sense? He couldn't possibly claim he was embarrassed, what kind of human wore a paper bag over their head anyway? Mikuni sure made fun of it often enough. But the truth, that he was ashamed, that his heart fluttered in panic at the very thought of anyone that had ever known him seeing his face after he had become this monstrous betrayal to his every faith and belief, was no more an option than saying he simply liked it. All of a sudden he realized it had taken him too long to answer and Matthias' brow was creasing in worry and before Jeje could stop himself, just wanting to wipe the anxious look from his face, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. "My eyes. They're... frightening."

"Is that all?!" Matthias exclaimed. "My friend, you have nothing to fear here. I have seen all you can imagine. Why don't you remove it? Just for the rest of our lunch?"

Never would he have dreamed of doing it, never would he have allowed himself the foolish indulgence, but he wasn't given the choice. Like an unexpected flash of lightning, Mikuni reached over and, pinching the very corner of the bag carefully between his fingers, whipped it off. As his hair fluttered down and free across his shoulders, Jeje turned to stare accusingly at Mikuni, the sudden anger he felt frightening, but froze when he was met with a somber, sparkling gold gaze. Without a word, Mikuni gently folded the bag up and laid it on the table, placing his arm securely over it, and looked back to Angelo, expression bland as though he had never looked away.

"It seems your companion doesn't think you need it either." Matthias said brightly when Jeje had finally found the courage to glance over.

"Either?"

"I don't see anything strange." He said levelly, eyes wide in sincerity as they looked straight into Jeje's red ones. "Now, with the fresh air, what do you say we get something warm? I've always found stew to be a good outdoor food."

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

It would seem strange to Jeje for the rest of his existence that Matthias had not said anything, not mentioned the devil in his eyes or the unnatural pallor to his skin, but it was something that, like all the other somethings, he preferred not to think about. A simple memory that could warm or chill depending on the lens it was viewed through. Now, months, years, centuries later, glancing over and finding Mikuni perched beside him on the couch, tongue between his teeth as he tried, enraged, to fit the sail he had sewn through the neck of the bottle, he thought that maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

"You must fol-"

"I know already!" Mikuni snapped, almost dropping his hold on the tweezers. "You've told me! Why do you do this?! It's infuriating!"

"It was a comfort."

Lowering the bottle and peering over, Mikuni hummed thoughtfully. "A comfort from what?"

The question surprised Jeje, still so unlike Mikuni it was to ask, and so he didn't think before he answered. "From the fear and tedium."

"Fear of God?"

Unsure if it was jest or genuine, Jeje merely sighed, looking away, out the bay window to the porch over which he could see the afternoon sun sinking lower and lower, towards the horizon line of the new city they had found. "Fear of failure."

"How could you fail?"

Hiding the small smirk as it crossed, fleetingly, over his lips, Jeje shrugged before reaching out and taking the bottle from Mikuni. "Is it not obvious that I did?"

"Who was that man? Really."

His tone was low, leaving no room to avoid, and Jeje frowned. He had been afraid that Mikuni would bring it up again. When they had parted ways, leaving the two ill fated priests at the café, he had watched Jeje like a hawk, refusing to let him out of his sight for the next forty eight hours and finally, at his breaking point, Jeje had resorted to his snake form, knowing in that at least, his expression was indecipherable. Mikuni, out of character, had not said anything about it, only made sure that Jeje was wrapped around his neck wherever they went. If he hadn't know better he would have thought, indulged in the idea, that Mikuni was actually worried he might disappear, running off to find the ruins of his past. Whether it was emotion or simple self preservation that motivated this intense vigil didn't matter. It was just nice to know that if he were there or not mattered in the slightest.

"He was..." He trailed off, unsure how to explain. Knowing in his heart, dead as it may be, that it had been Matteo, was different than saying it out loud. And in the end, he still wasn't sure he even wanted the truth to be heard. Matteo was never going to be safe, never have the life he truly deserved, because somewhere along the line his soul had been so ensnared with the evil he had ignorantly summoned he was now fated for a path that Jeje could do nothing about.

Eventually, tenacity fueled by their meeting, Jeje had managed to dig up a roster that listed one Father Matteo Rossi. He had lived in the same seminary, the same time; there was no question. The aged little book, now clutched worryingly tightly in Jeje's hands, had gone on to say that Father Matteo, upon his ordainment had chosen to branch out and been quite successful, listed as one of the Vatican's top exorcists. He had had few partners, often going alone, choosing places and people far removed from their home, leaving with little expectation to return, only to do so, shocking those that had bid him farewell. Viewed fondly by all who met or knew of him, his reputation had brought him fame and status, though it appeared it was never something he made use of. In the end, after fifteen or so odd years, he had met his end, and that's where the information had abruptly cut off. In a fit, Jeje had hunted up everything even remotely related that he could find, well aware he would regret knowing the details but needing them all the same.

When he had finally returned home that day he had slid beneath the couch, finding the heat register that ran along the wall and curling up on it. Mikuni had already dragged him through the coals about his daily excursions to the library and now, after what he had found out, he wasn't sure, even being immortal, that he could survive another sarcastic tongue lashing. He must have dozed off because it was here that Mikuni found him, hours later, and after pushing the couch back, pulled him free.

"You should have known better than to go digging." Was all he said, wrapping Jeje around his neck and wandering back to the bedroom.

Now, weeks later, he seemed to have deemed it a once more breachable topic and yet Jeje was still unable to answer him. Perhaps it was simply that there was no answer; there never had been. "He was a friend." He said plainly.

Watching Mikuni consider this response, he wondered if maybe this was, in itself, an answer, that the similarities between them, that spark of sass and fire, the innate ability to annoy, the quick silver smiles like honeyed light, were all that mattered, if that, in Mikuni, Matteo and Jeje himself, might be able to find forgiveness. Mikuni finally turned to him, mouth open to say something but Jeje interrupted, freeing the words that had lay buried so deeply for so long before he could even decide not to.

"I think you're my fate."

#servamp #my writing #servamp jeje #mikuni alicein #jekuni #sorry guys it always turns into that with me #read between the lines if you want #i #doubt doubt #that you'll be able to ignore it hAH #ORIGIN STORIES #I wanna tag my baby......#matteo rossi #who wants to send me art of him?????

29 notes · View notes

thegreymoon · 3 years

Text

Word of Honor

Could I be more enchanted by this rude gremlin man? 😭

How is it even possible to crush so hard on half the cast of one sole single solitary show? 😭😭

***

He looks like he walked straight out of a Japanese horror movie 💀💀

He’s just beyond creepy.

***

Too beautiful!

***

This absolute troll 😂😂

Personally, I very much doubt I would make it across this nightmare bridge. My heart would give out halfway through 👻👻

***

I knew they were never going to make it over that bridge without incident 💀💀

***

Oooh, wound tending and cuddle time in a cave! 😋

Praying there are no 3D space defying turtles around!

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OH WHAT THE HELL.

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“Scourges” 😂😂

Well, he has a high opinion of them!

***

So despicable 🤮

***

Even surrounded by zombies, they can’t pass up an opportunity to flirt 🤣🤣

Disasters 🤣🤣

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I’m shocked Ye Baiyi did not get his fancy, flowy robes stuck in one of those gears.

***

I am dead 😭😭

They have murdered me 😭😭

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They were fighting zombies, ffs, why is this romance 😭😭

***

You look too wholesome to not be suspicious 🧐🧐

Just waiting for the cow to unhinge it’s jaw and attempt to swallow them!

***

God, this place is beautiful 💚

***

This is almost worse than a monster cow 😫

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Another sleeve cutting scene? 😅

We get it boys, you’ve been more than obvious 😂😂

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LMAO, I squee internally whenever he calls them scourges 😂😂

***

Poor Chengling, always getting tortured in cruel and unusual ways 😬

Anyway, I can’t wait to see this disgusting little sadist die. I hope it will be cruel and painful.

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LMAO, he’s so fucked 😂😂

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How is this episode just endless nightmare fuel 😫😫

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OMG, a flashback 😱 I am scared! CQL has traumatised me!

***

Well, this is interesting!! 🧐🧐

Yes, Wen Kexing! Shut up and behave yourself, I too want to hear the rest of this!

***

One of the most difficult moments in any story for me is when the worst among a group of friends/brothers/heroes manages to ruin them all because they trusted him and he is the last one left standing 😠

The injustice of it. The devastation. And no way to fix it.

***

I was doing so well remembering all the relevant characters, smh, and then they had to go and introduce all their younger versions plus half a dozen new people 😠😠

Why must my life be suffering 😭😭

***

Well,

There goes that plan 😶

***

What even...??

Didn’t Rong Xuan kill him just minutes ago? How are they killing him again??

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It’s the same thing as with Gao Chong and Shen Shen. Smh. Why can I never tell when someone here is properly dead?

***

This story is so goddamn messy. I’ve gone back over the last ten minutes or so at least four times to gather who is married to whom and who killed who and why 😠😠

***

This is Wen Kexing, isn’t it.

He’s really not Rong Xuan’s son but these are his parents. That’s why he wants everyone dead.

***

Look at his face!

It’s 100% him.

***

So, WKX has the key?

***

LMAO, he’s so angry 😆😆

I love these master/student relationships 🤗 Kill a famous martial artist and then prepare to suffer as his ridiculously overpowered immortal teacher descends from seclusion in a mountain to get revenge! I love this theme 😆😆

***

OK, so, Master Huazui didn’t exactly descend to kill for Chu Wanning, but he did tear down half the Underworld to bring him back to life! Also, I have no doubt that if CWN had stayed dead, his own disciple would have eventually gone on to track down the culprits and skin them alive.

***

WAIT A SECOND.

SO HE TOO WAS RAISING A CHILD WITH ANOTHER MAN??

***

OKAY, SO I AM A COMPLETE MORON. I JUST REALIZED I SKIPPED THE ENTIRE EPISODE 17 AND THESE ARE ACTUALLY EPISODES 18 AND 19?? HOW THE HELL DID I NOT EVEN NOTICE THERE WAS AN EPISODE MISSING???

***

#word of honor #woh spoilers #woh ep18 #woh ep19

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seblos · 4 years

Text

i really wanna kiss you (and i think i might)

words: 1,325

series: snippets

read on ao3

“Did you know Carlos was the one when you two first kissed?”

Seb blinks. “Uh, what?”

“I tried to ask Ricky earlier but he was wildly unhelpful and then Ashlyn joined the call and it- it’s a long story,” Big Red sighs. He had jumped the gun the moment the call connected, and Seb was still processing. When he and Carlos first what?

Red shakes his head, continuing from his tangent. “Anyway, how did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you wanted to be with him.”

Seb coughs. “I mean, uh, I think I would actually have to be with him to know.”

He can see Red tilting his head on screen. “Wait, you guys aren’t together?” “No,” Seb blushes. “Not yet, at least.

“You guys kissed though, right?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, does a kiss on the cheek count?”

Red shakes his head again. “Okay, apparently whatever you two have going on is a lot more complicated than what I have. You should figure that out.”

“Yeah,” Seb laughs quietly. “I probably should.”

They catch up a little more, Big Red fully explaining what happened with Ashlyn the night of the show (he heard a little bit about it from Carlos, who had gotten Ashlyn’s side of the story from the cast party after watching the two dance around each other for weeks leading up the show. Slightly ironic, considering that’s exactly what Seb and Carlos were doing as well.)

Eventually, Red hangs up. The call disappears, bringing Seb back to his call screen. For a moment, hovering over Carlos’s contact (he took up half of Seb’s recent calls sections) and debating for a moment if he should call him.

What they were exactly, Seb couldn’t quite explain. Every perfect fictional romance was so straightforward: two people like each other, they eventually kiss, and boom, relationship.

Apparently, nobody bothered to mention to him that if you throw in a year of being friends, early morning dance lessons that turned into dancing at homecoming, comforting the other when they’re stressed, random jealousy when another boy caresses Carlos’s cheek the same way Seb has been wanting to do for months, and the occasional handhold or cheek kiss things get very complicated. For them both being the full rainbow of gay, the gray area was very apparent.

Sure, simple communication would probably fix all of this, but Seb’s not very good at not flipping out when it comes to flirting with Carlos or being around Carlos in general. Everything about him is so existent to him. Carlos encapsulates him, and he can’t seem to ever get him to leave his mind for hours, sometimes days afterward (not that he necessarily wants him to.)

The idea of even talking to Carlos about all of this makes his heart skip a beat, and in his panic, he presses the call button. Before Seb can even think to pick up, calling Carlos Rodriguez... changes to connecting... on his phone screen.

Well, no going back now.

“Hey, Seb,” Carlos greets excitedly, smile stretched wide and genuine. “I was actually just about to call you funnily enough! I have this concept for ‘Be Our Guest’ and assuming you’ll be Lumiere in the show, I’m sure you could-”

“Did you want to kiss me?” Seb blurts out before he can stop himself, immediately feeling his entire body heat up. Any moment and he’ll probably start literally shaking.

Carlos is also flushed, although his smile never drops. He sounds both nervous and excited when he asks, “What?”

Seb chews on his lip, looking anywhere but at Carlos. “The night of the show, when you kissed me on the cheek right before ‘Bop to the Top,’ did you want to kiss me?”

“I mean, yeah,” Carlos coughs, blushing hard, and Seb can feel his heart racing. “But uh, Seb. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since, like, way before then.”

Now it’s Seb’s turn to question. “What? When?”

Carlos lifts his arms, closing his eyes as he places his hand under his cheeks, smile still not leaving his face. “I mean, like, every day since freshman year honestly, but y’know. Homecoming, when I asked you that morning, and then at the dance. Kourtney’s car when she was driving us home from Big Red’s that night when we wrote ‘Truth, Justice, and Songs in our Key’. Uh, Ashlyn’s house at Thanksgiving. At the El Ray. In the hall before the show. After the cast party,” he rattles off, then looks at the camera. “And, um, right now.”

Seb’s entire body is on fire. The butterflies in his stomach are like a swarm, and his legs are practically vibrating considering how hard they’re shaking right now as he scrunches himself into a ball, never tearing his eyes from his phone. This conversation is hilariously awkward and intimate in the best way possible, and the only thing he’s thinking about is there’s no way this is his real life.

“So, uh,” Seb laughs quietly. “So say next time we hang out. If there was a moment… would you let me?”

Carlos quirks an eyebrow. “Seb Matthew-Smith, are you trying to plan a kiss with me?”

“Well, I never told you when! I said if there was a moment,” Seb clarifies, then buries his head in one of his arms, the other still holding his phone out. “But, um, maybe. If you’re okay with that.”

“I’m more than okay with that,” he says quietly, voice catching at the very ending, and oh man does Seb wish he was there right now.

“Cool,” Seb says.

It’s quiet. Not uncomfortably so, just in a way that they keep looking at each other, heads tilting, smiles and growing, and every once in a while one of them will scrunch up their face or hide it in their sleeve when the eye contact becomes too much.

There’s a question posing at the back of Seb’s throat, still, and he thinks if they’ve gotten this far, he might as well suck it up and ask.

“So, if we are doing this-”

“Which it sounds like we are,” Carlos shrugs easily, although his face is still bright red.

“Yeah, so would that, um,” his voice drops a bit, although he doesn’t lose the little bit of confidence he has at this moment. “Would that mean we're dating?”

Carlos shrugs. “I mean, depends. A kiss doesn’t mean we're dating.”

“Right.”

“But,” he tilts his head. “If you- if you wanted to be…” Carlos trails off.

“I mean… what do you want?”

“What do you want, Seb? I asked first.”

He laughs at Carlos, letting his head fall into his arms once again.

“I do. Want that,” he mumbles, praying they’re on the same page.

When he looks up again, Carlos has his hands over his mouth again, but Seb can tell he’s still smiling.

“Cool,” his voice catches again, and it takes Seb a moment to realize that he’s the one making Carlos flustered like this. It’s all he needs for confirmation that Carlos wants this too before he speaks again.

“Because I want that too.”

“So,” he lays his head down on his arm, this time not hiding his face. “That’s it? Were dating?”

Carlos mocks his movement. “I think we are.”

“This seems so much easier in all the movies,” Seb laughs.

“It really does.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, “I wish I was there right now so I could kiss you.”

It’s barely a whisper, but Carlos’s face heats up all the same.

“I wish you were too,” he mumbles. “Guess I’ll just have to wait. Are you free tomorrow?”

“For you? Always.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” he says back, then, “so tell me about this choreo idea you had.”

And if Seb texts Big Red the next day after getting home from Carlos’s house that he can finally get back to him about that question, then who’s to say.

#seblos #seb matthew smith #carlos rodriguez #hsmtmts #high school musical the muiscal the series #lol tease ending my bad im tired #snippets #my writing

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nagia-pronounced-neijia · 3 years

Text

scream (until you’re satisfied)

It's a quiet night for once: peaceful, even. The sun sits low on the horizon, casting gloam over the usual summer mist; insects buzz in the trees, loud and soft and loud again. Ligiea smiles out her open kitchen window at the little copse that has taken over the edge of the complex parking lot, then slides her thumb over her phone for the last time before she starts on her dishes.

On the windowsill, a bluetooth speaker -- designed to look like an antique radio; it had delighted Nate for about four seconds before he realized he couldn't actually tune it -- begins to croon a soft jazz cover of an early 90's grunge song. She smiles, humming along, and gets to work rinsing tzatziki and chili sauce from her plates.

Something rustles in the copse. She doesn't hear it; she sees birds suddenly burst from the green, wings beating, out of the corner of her eye. She sets the pan she'd fried her flatbread in back down in the sink, watching with instincts sharpened by too much shit having tried to kill her.

She hasn't made it back to the dishes when the scream cuts through the night. It lasts so long and comes so deep from within someone's throat that she hears it gurgle for a beat before it pitches back up. When the voice finally gives out, there's only enough time for a sharp intake of breath before it starts again.

Ligeia ignores the chills that roll down her spine, the hot-cold rush of adrenaline through her veins. She picks up her holster and pepper spray, the Agency-issue Volt, and tucks her badge into her pocket. Detective Attano steps out the door, pacing in the direction of the scream.

First fun fact of the night: the scream didn't come from the damn woods. That would have made sense.

Second fun fact of the night: Bobby's standing at the entrance to the laundromat. This makes Ligeia instantly suspicious, and he apparently knows it. The red ambulance lights flash onto his face and then off again, lighting him up before they leave him in shadow, and it makes what he clearly wishes were a fetching smile look demented.

"Miss me, angel?"

Ligeia bites down on her first reply, because she can't think of their college years -- or make a crack about her annual fucking chlamydia infection when she'd dated him -- without wanting to hit something. She smiles like she doesn't want to punch her ex and says, instead, "What do I do with myself when I'm not watching your career circle the drain?"

That one hits the mark. He flinches and takes a reflexive step back, like she'd slapped him. And then he pours on the greasy smile, but there's an angry edge, a tightness, to his smile. "I see dinner didn't go down so well all alone."

She's not allowed to say, 'shut up and get out of my way,' but she can say, "This is a crime scene, Bobby. Just because the caution tape's not up doesn't mean you get to lurk." She makes a shooing motion with her fingers.

He's not dumb enough not to move, but she hears his feet on the concrete as he tries to peer through the windows into the darkened building.

Third fun fact: when the ambulance is sitting in the parking lot with its lights on, and the paramedics are sitting uselessly in the open back of the bus, there's no good news. Ligeia nods at Jeri and Ryan, and mouths three letters.

Ryan just nods dejectedly. Beside him, Jeri winces, shrugs, and mouths them back: DOA.

Ligeia doesn't let herself sigh, much though she wants to, and jerks the door open. She ignores the words "Spin Cycle 365" printed in white on the glass, focused as she is on finding the lightswitch. It takes a few useless, obnoxious moments of groping in the dark before her fingers touch plastic. She flips three switches in a row and the lights return with a click and a buzz.

She sees exactly how Jeri and Ryan had come to the conclusion of 'DOA.' It's rather hard not to, given that the poor girl had fallen onto the floor, eyes wide and staring, mouth still open in a scream. But there's no sound coming out of her throat anymore. No breath in those apparently very powerful lungs. Pale white marks dot the very corners of her mouth and jaw.

Ligeia kneels down next to the girl, considering, and pulls a pair of latex gloves from her blazer pocket. She skips looking for any kind of trauma -- there would be blood, probably -- and instead picks up the girl's hands. The victim's fingers are cool and soft, still flaccid rather than in rigor mortis, and it is the worst kind of intimacy.

She can't imagine how Verda does this every day. Maybe she just likes people and all their intricacies too much.

Not a single defensive wound. Not even a sign she'd thrown her arms out to catch herself as she fell. That's a reflex; she must have been unconscious or dead before she started to fall.

There's no new sound, but she feels something like a shift in the barometric pressure of the room. Adam and Morgan both have a quality to them, an intensity that seems to suck up all the air and interest, even when nobody's looking at them.

Ligeia straightens. "Looks like a heart attack, but I'll know more after Verda or the Agency pathologists take a look," she says. She doesn't need to look back to know they're watching. "Will we let Doctor Turner and Verda take the lead on this, or is the Agency going to take custody of her just in case?"

The words come out professional. Not cheery, certainly, but smooth, practiced. Like her heart isn't beating hard inside her chest, like she's not thinking about Murphy. Like there's something going on in her head other than an endless litany of a prayer she keeps hoping she'll get to stop praying: no more deaths, please, not in my town.

"This is a known phenomenon to the Agency," her mother's voice says. The tone is endlessly gentle. "We'll take custody."

It takes her a few more moments to look away from the girl and the blue puddle of laundry soap. It smells like fake tropical flowers and banana; it's probably called something like 'Bahama Breeze.'

Ligeia drives back to the warehouse, stopping only for fuel and a cup of petrol station coffee. It's thick and tarry as the stuff she puts in her car, smells about as astringent, but it wakes her up. Unit Bravo beat her back by at least fifteen minutes. That doesn't surprise her, given her slow car and pit stop.

What does surprise her is that Adam is waiting for her by the entry. He had been standing stiffly by the wall, like particularly handsome statuary, and as she passes him, he unbends.

"So what was I looking at in there?"

"A fae victim," is Adam's reply. He stops moving when she does.

Ligeia starts putting together 'fae,' 'screaming,' 'laundry,' and 'death,' and what she comes up with makes her groan. "You're kidding, right?" But this is Adam, and he wouldn't joke about this. Not even Farah would.

"They aren't what the folktales make of them," is his reply, steady and a little snide, like usual. He sounds a little softer when he adds, "So few of us are."

They've had the talk about his disapproval of humans romanticizing vampires. She even understood it, to an extent. She felt the same way about the slew of torture porn and serial killer movies that came out in the early 2000's. She still feels that way about the Purge movies and the way they glamorize surviving violence, the way they assume everyone's first thought is murder.

Point is, Ligeia sees where he's coming from. She doesn't push. She stays right where she is, just a little too close to him to be professional.

"I guess I should go inside and find out what they're really like," she says.

Adam holds the door for her. She turns her head just enough to look over her shoulder at him as she goes through. She offers him a smile and watches his jaw relax by a fraction.

Nate smiles up at her from where he's found an armchair -- she could swear he's always making himself smaller, and he's so big that the back of her neck thanks him, but she hates it, too. There's a haunted edge to the way half his jaw has tensed, and when the smile slips, she can see that his focus on her has wisped away. He's the same Nate as always, but he's somewhere else right now. Somewhen else.

Morgan's the one who says the word. She breathes it out around grey smoke, her tone heavy and dark not only from the cigarette but from her own closely guarded feelings. "Banshees," she says, and near her, Farah actually sighs.

#wayhaven #adam x detective #nate x detective #fucking around with irish myth #detective ligeia attano #fragment #do i know where this is going? no #mark my words this is not the final draft #i blame bunny

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rose-demica · 4 years

Text

Gif Drabble, A ruined date

So @mariekoukie6661 sent me an ask with this gif... my new kitten jumped on my keyboard and somehow managed to privately answer it before it was finished. Thanks to my friends at the @fanficocean, we were able to figure out where it went, and get most of it back. (I also have definitely learnt my lesson, and will be now solely writing on docs outside of tumblr again).

It does mean I lost the original gif, and despite searching for the gif, and having the original poster’s ID, it hasn’t helped me find it. So it’s just a screenshot for now.

A sigh of relief passes your lips, eyes darting to the clock as your manager bustles in the door, mouthing apologies as you kept helping the seemingly endless line of people. It was 1am, four hours after your shift had been supposed to end. Everyone else from the other supervisor’s team had arrived on time, allowing the rest of your team to leave, but your own relief hadn’t shown up, hadn’t even had the decency to call in and warn the managers in advance. They’d asked you to stay later while they scrambled to find someone to cover the absence… you hadn’t expected it to take four hours.

You had hoped for a moment to text your date, tell him you’d be delayed, or just cancel. It was a bad look for a third date, but you had no choice, the store couldn’t run without a supervisor, and there was no way you could close up the store, not two days before Christmas. Not when, even at 1 am, the lines for the registers winded back down through the aisles.

It was bad, really bad, to just ghost a man on your third date, but hopefully, he would understand. He had to understand, you really liked this guy. If your co-worker had cost you one of the sweetest guy’s you’d met, you would never forgive her.

“Just give me ten to set up.” You nodded as the manager breezed past you towards checkout control, turning your attention back to the woman who was insisting the sale sign didn’t specify a size. (It did, this was the 73rd time today you’d had this argument over this specific product.)

Those ten minutes dragged by, but finally, finally, you did your hand over and clocked out. Your first stop, once you were off the floor, was to check your phone. There were only five text messages, and two missed calls. Your heart hit your stomach, chest seizing up, did this mean he had given up? He wasn’t as interested in you as you thought.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you opened your conversation with him and read your messages.

2105

Hey, I’m here early, but don’t feel like you need to rush. There was a mess up with our reservation, so our table won’t be available for a little while. I’m at the garden bar, I can’t wait to see you.

2147

So I guess you’re running a bit late? Our table just opened up. I’ll order a drink and wait for you there. If you want I can place your order in advance? I know you tend to skip your breaks when it’s busy, and I hate to have you wasting away longer than necessary.

2215. One missed call.

2216

Are you far off? I’m getting a lot of dirty looks from the staff. Who knew they don’t like people who sit at tables and never order more than a drink?

2308

I gotta be honest here, I really like you, which is why I am praying you aren’t standing me up or ghosting me. It’s also why I’m going back to the garden bar. They’ve shut the kitchen down, but they said I can wait there until they close. I think they feel bad for me, and think I’m stupid for waiting this long... maybe I am...

2357

Well, it’s just me and the bartender left. The last stragglers from the restaurant left about 10 minutes ago, and now the staff have to. I know they won’t tell me to leave, not as a paying customer, however discounted my drinks might be, but I will. They’re allowed to close up early if there are no customers, and I don’t want to be the one keeping them open, not this close to Christmas when everyone is so busy and wants to be with family. So I guess I’ll... to be honest, I don’t know what I plan to do. Maybe I’ll head home, let me know that you’re safe please, even if you are ghosting me.

0027. One missed call.

Your fingers were automatically typing out a reply as your brain tried to figure out what to say, but as soon as it was typed you deleted it. What could you possibly say to apologise for the fact that you had stood him up, as much as you hadn’t wanted to. He had waited at the bar for you for at least three hours. You didn’t know if you would be able to do the same, endure all those looks from the staff and other patrons. Just sit at the bar, constantly casting glances at the time and trying desperately not to think-

“Goodnight.” You glance up in shock, only to see one of your staff members passing by on their way back onto the floor. You slid your phone into your pocket, step one was getting home, then you could put your feet up and figure out how to apologise for your disaster of a shift, and missing the date without giving any warning.

~~~

You feel your body relax as you step off the bus, nearly home, it was nearly all over, you were nearly home. You dropped your bag at the bus stop bench, sitting down and peeling off your work shoes, feet screaming after a long day of standing on them in cheap shoes. The snow was nice against your feet, at least, it was for now. The cold bite of the snow numbing the pain receptors. It would give you enough time to get home before it got too cold, or your feet gave out on you.

You were quick to pick up your bag and get moving, there was only so long before your feet would turn to icicles. Your eyes were glued to your phone as you walked the familiar route home, no one would be out at 1.30 in the morning. You barely looked up to type the code that would let you in to your apartment building’s lobby, nor as you approached the stairs, it was only as you made to dodge a person sitting on the bottom one that you looked up.

Stunning blue eyes met yours, knocking the wind out of you.

“Sorry beautiful, I just had to make sure that you’re alright. Please don’t think I’m a stalker or anything.” The man spoke, raising his hands. It took you a second more to tear your eyes from his, give yourself the chance to scan his body and recognise the man rising to stand before you. Your date, Clint Barton.

“Wha-” He chuckled at your stunned expression,

“You never replied, I was worried that maybe someone had kidnapped or ambushed you, figured the least I could do was check-in to make sure everything was all right.” He motioned to the phone in your hand, before tucking his hands into his pockets and shuffling awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, I was going to reply once I got home, I had no idea what to say to you.” You found your voice, putting your phone away. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might swing by to check on you, no one had ever done that before, it was sweet.

“No worries, I understand, have a good life Y/N.” He took a few steps away, and you reached out quickly, your hand reaching out in an attempt to wrap around a firm bicep. He could have kept going, easily pulled his arm from yours, but he stopped, turning back towards you.

“No. No-” It couldn’t all end, not like this. “I meant-” You breathed out heavily, searching for the same words you’d been looking for, ever since you’d read his messages. “Come upstairs? I still haven’t eaten, we can talk over a midnight snack.” His smile took your breath away, nodding slowly, almost as if he was waiting for you to take it back. “Great, my feet are killing me.” You smiled back, turning to eye up the stairs. You were only on the 3rd floor, but you weren’t sure you could convince your feet to carry you up that far.

‘Allow me.” You turned back to Clint, offering him your bag, but he only shook his head, stepping closer to sweep you off your feet and into the bridal hold. “You’ll have to let me know which floor and room, I’m afraid I only managed to figure out which building was yours.” You wanted to complain, insist you could walk yourself, but you couldn’t deny the sheer relief that you were finally off your feet.

“Just this once.” You meant to say it in your head, but the words accidentally fell out of your mouth, Clint chuckling at you. “3H.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, tucking your head into his neck. Eyes falling closed, feeling safe in his arms.

“You seem exhausted.”

“My co-worker never showed, took them four hours to find and get someone in so I could get off. It was so busy I couldn’t even send you a message.” You sighed heavily, “I love Christmas, I really do. But I hate it.”

“I had hoped it was something like that.” He spoke softly, before pausing, setting your feet back on the ground, one arm staying wrapped around your waist. You turned, looking up at him, arms staying looped around his neck, holding him close to you.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I wanted to be there.” He lifted another hand, running it down the side of your face, before cupping your jaw.

“I waited as long as I could.” He responded, leaning in closer to you. Your eyes flicked down to his soft pink lips, able to think of nothing but how badly you wanted to taste them.

“I know.” You stretched up, pausing when you could feel his breath roll across your face, waiting for him to close the distance. “Thank you.” You felt more than heard his quiet groan, lips rushing against yours a moment later. You responded tangling one of your hands into his hair and holding him.

It was your stomach growling that interrupted you, Clint pulling back with a smile.

“Let’s get you inside and fed, then we can discuss continuing this.” You stretched up, stealing another kiss from his lips, savouring the way they felt moving with yours, before pulling back and searching for your keys, eager to get inside and salvage what you could of your date.

#Clint X reader #gif drabble #Mcu #Clint Barton #third date #Clint being stood up #gender neutral reader?#reader #fanfiction

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iwrestledayaoguaionce · 3 years

Text

A lil 3 am drabble (jk it's an excerpt from chapter 9 of American Bliss) because I feel like it. Cry with me. (I'm putting it under a cut bc it isn't wholesome)

"Let me go," Sadie demanded through a frenzy of tears. She yanked as hard as she could, but every time she moved, he gripped her wrist tighter. "Julien, I said let me go."

"I keep telling you," he said, grabbing her wrist and holding it tight so she couldn't run, "it matters. It matters because you want it to - I want it to - and that's good enough."

"I won't. I can't." Admittedly, he felt a twinge of guilt since he could've been hurting her, but he was only doing what he thought he could to help. Ever since he'd come home, she'd had an episode once a week - at least. He thought they'd stop once Shaun was here, but he couldn't be so lucky. Not even with her, not ever.

It made sense, however, and he couldn't blame her. Never in his life would he hold her emotions against her. His disease, he'd called it, wasn't her fault; it was the opposite, she had tried tirelessly to prevent him from returning to the battlefield and lost the argument many times. She would never tell him that this was a result of it, would never wish to cause him to feel like her behavior was his fault. Their mutual habit of being unable to assign blame to one another had begun as an innocent thing; they had each always taken responsibility for their own actions, as one should. But it had snowballed into something hideous, toxic with the purest intention. What neither of them realized was that there was a way to say "yes, your actions are detrimental to me" without it being accusatory, but they'd feared it coming off wrong so much that they skipped straight past communication and landed in turmoil. They loved one another so deeply that it only made it sting a little worse. The roots of this inability to calm down and talk certain things outstretched past when they'd met and were embedded in how they had interacted with their mothers growing up. The fighting cost them quality time and energy whenever it occurred, and now, with a baby in the house, crying could be heard in the distance.

"Sadie, please, listen to yourself," he begged, still keeping his hold on her arm. "You're telling me you're going to leave, that I'll never see you again, but you hear that, yes? Come with me, Shaun is crying for you. You can leave me if you want, but he needs his mama."

"Where I'm going, it won't matter," she resisted. She continued to try and pry his hand off of her wrist, grunting and straining.

"And where, pray tell, are you going?"

He was so calm, unflinching even. This only pushed her farther, made her want to bite his hand. She knew why. They both knew why.

"I said let go. I'm gonna call the police, Julien, so help me-"

"Then call them. But I promise you, they won't just let you do what you're trying to do. You can reach the phone, or have Codsworth-"

"How may I be of assistance, sir?"

"Not now, Codsworth!"

"Does mum require medical assistance? You know, mum, you're looking a little out of sorts-"

She stopped fighting and blinked, her eyes flickering toward the robot butler. For a moment she was perfectly still, gawking at him. Julien tried to ignore his heart racing and continue to appear resolute, glancing back and forth between them, unsure of what would happen next. Codsworth had never interrupted one of her episodes, only offered her reassurance and assistance when they had ended and she came down like the sea after a turbulent storm.

Uncertainty with how she would react terrified Julien, but he had a small glimmer of hope that she might actually listen to Codsworth, realize how erratic she'd been acting and call the doctor in the morning. She instead laughed, manically, as if this were a Saturday morning superhero cartoon and she had been cast as an undefeatable villain. She laughed with her head thrown back, cackling, and when he released his grip, she didn't flee. It wasn't a trick. Her hands flew to her face and she wiped tears away, beginning to sob as she laughed. She tipped her head back down and backed away, slumped against the front door and slid her back down it until she was sitting. Julien watched her bring her knees to her chest and curl into a ball, bury her head and sob.

Instead of saying another word and setting her off again, he crouched next to her and sighed. His fingers dragged along her scalp, they combed through her long brown hair and he just sat. When she was finally ready to look at him again, he smiled and stole her hand. Codsworth had long left the room, focusing on the baby until they could handle him.

"I'm not leaving you," he mumbled. "You can't get rid of me so easily."

"I know," she sniffed. Their eyes met, hers red and puffy from crying. "But Julien...we can't pretend that we're fine. I wish you'd just get help."

He said nothing.

"Exactly. You won't."

"Sadie, baby, I don't know how to explain how this works to you-"

"I know you don't. I know you don't. But it needs to end."

"It won't last forever, I promise-"

"We won't last forever. But, I mean...this will end, too, just like everything else in the world - so why bother?"

"Darling-"

"This will end," she looked away and her eyes fell back to the floor. "This will end, like everything else."

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