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crossdressingdeath · 4 years

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Seeing your post about how JYL has a 'ranking system' in her head when it comes to WWX and JC hits so hard, but honestly, the more I read into the Jiang family dynamics, the more I agree. JYL obviously loves WWX, but I don't know if she's capable of putting him above JC. And we see her defending him, and she obviously gives her life for him, but she was also reacting in the moment. Not to speak lightly of her sacrifice of course, but I just feel like there are certain limits to how 1/7

far she's actually willing to go for him. I was initially one of JYL's staunch defenders, and always said that, unlike JC, she didn't have the same amount of political power as him, wasn't in a position to do anything about the Wens, ect. But...I'm starting to question if that's really true. JYL may not have had much direct political power herself, but she was the sister of a sect leader, and even if JC was unwilling to help, JYL had just married into the richest and most powerful sect 2/7

at the time. It was a love marriage, JZX adored her and would've done anything for her if she'd just bothered to ask him for it. Madam Jin also cared for her and respected her, and between her and JZX, had JYL actually bothered to tell them anything, I'm sure they would have been able to sort something out. Or she could have had it as a condition of her marriage - I'm not marrying into the sect that's trying to kill my brother unless you tell your father to stop. Had it been reversed and 3/7

The Lans were calling for JYL and JC’s deaths, no way in hell WWX would’ve just married into the sect, regardless of LWJ’s involvement. Instead she just doesn’t really do anything. We see no proof that she ever tried to see WWX after the wedding dress incident, which — god I instantly saw it as a sweet gesture, but now it just bothers me, because your brother is living in squalor, and you decide to show if the expensive dress that you’ll be 4/7

wearing when marrying into the sect that's trying to kill him, you bring along one bowl of soup for him, and don't even try to explain WHY you're marrying into said sect. Beyond that, we don't see a single moment up until her death where JYL actually seems concerned about WWX, puts in effort to try to see him - she doesn't even ask him how he's doing the one time she does come to see him. When we compare that to how WQ treats WN, yeah, she's outwardly not as loving or sweet, but she 5/7

goes to the ends of the earth for her brother, even going as far as to betray her sect and risk WRH's wrath because he asks her to. And now we come back to that ranking system you mentioned before - yeah, it really does seem like JYL places her blood family first, which definitely hurts, but in comparison, despite only knowing him for a shorter amount of time, WQ truly grows to think of WWX as a second brother. And she treats him as such, at an equal level with WN - after JZX dies 6/7

WQ doesn't attack WWX for what happened. She doesn't try to come up with a way to sacrifice WWX instead and let WN survive in his stead. She and WN, two people who have become WWX's family, both give their lives to protect both him and the rest of their remaining family members. And it's just frustrating to think that the one member of WWX's adopted family who we all thought treated him like an actual brother, might not have really been on his side after all. 7/7

Yes! To start with the wedding dress thing, because it drives me nuts when people treat that like some super sweet act of love: JYL shows up in the Burial Mounds with no money, no sign of having tried to talk the sects around, no news outside of her own, no food beyond a couple bowls of soup (one of which she gives to the guy who can’t eat), and doesn’t so much as ask WWX if he’s okay. She literally came all that way to have a family meal, ask WWX to name the future nephew it’s becoming increasingly clear he’ll never meet, and tell him about her impending marriage into the family that’s currently doing everything in its power to destroy WWX’s life. Like, if you think about it that entire visit is such a slap in the face; “Here’s a bowl of soup while the people under your protection are starving, oh by the way I’m going to marry the son of the guy actively trying to get you killed, okay bye”. All you can say in regards to her helping WWX is that she does potentially manage to persuade JZX to invite him to JL’s one month celebration, but if memory serves the novel never actually specifies whose idea that was and it was JZX who decided to go get WWX after JGY told him about seeing JZXun heading in the direction of the Burial Mounds. And even then JZX does the same thing JYL does; sees WWX outnumbered and surrounded and tells him to stand down. At least in JZX’s case you could argue that the actual fighting hadn’t broken out and JZX probably trusted in his authority to be able to sort the situation out so long as WWX wasn’t actually acting aggressive (or defensive, rather), and he’s also physically strong enough that he may well have been able to intervene if the cultivators had attacked. JYL, when she does the same thing, has no authority and no physical power to defend WWX with. And yeah, both JZX and Madam Jin adore JYL, and neither of them seem super fond of JGS (JZX respects his father, but I don’t get the sense he loves him); if JYL had asked them for help it’s entirely possible they would’ve started at least circulating her version of events and demanding a proper investigation into what happened. But there’s no mention of her so much as trying, and she doesn’t offer to ask them when she visits WWX.

And yeah, compare WQ to JYL and it’s... well. WQ is so quick to offer WWX her love and care? She’s harsh, but she loves him and views him and WN on such equal footing that she and WN willingly hand themselves over to the Jins for WWX’s sake without her so much as bringing up the possibility of saving WN instead. There’s no ranking for WQ; WWX and WN are her brothers, and she loves them, and she’d do anything to protect them. When it becomes clear she can’t save WN (like hell the sects would let him live, and by this point it’s pretty clear that WWX won’t be able to protect them forever) she throws her whole weight behind defending the brother she thinks she might still be able to save, even if it means bringing WN with her to die. WQ knows WWX for... a year or two? Maybe? The timeline is a little hazy. Not long compared to JYL, anyway. And yet she’s willing to walk all the way to Lanling to die in the hope of saving him. It’s for her whole family, yes, but she makes a point of including him. Basically, I think this fandom needs more stuff wherein the Jiangs and Wens survive and the Wens are fully like “Our brother now, you don’t deserve him”.

The thing with JYL is... she loves WWX, she genuinely does, but he is never going to be first for her. To the point where she outright enables JC’s abuse, in places; she always expects WWX to be the one to grin and bear it. Hell, one of their first conversations involves JYL cheerily allowing WWX to cover up JC locking him out of his bedroom and scaring him out into the woods by threatening to set dogs on him! Let me rephrase that: she allows a traumatized nine-year-old to hide the fact that the kid her dad expects him to share a room with locked him out of said room on his FIRST NIGHT and threatened him with his LITERALLY WORST FEAR, and as far as we know makes no attempt to tell JFM herself. To keep JC out of trouble. That is such a thing! WWX was scared to the point of running away and JFM expects him to share a room with the person responsible for that and JYL goes along with him promising not to tell JFM so that JC won’t get in trouble! And from that day forwards everything is just “Boys will be boys” to her. Like, let me put it this way. Before LWJ (and arguably the Wens before that, although WWX saw himself more as protector than protected there) JYL was the person WWX trusted to protect and care for and comfort him above all others, yeah? She’s the one he thinks of as having his back? He doesn’t tell her about JC trying to kill him. JC tries to kill WWX three times before JYL’s death, and WWX doesn’t say a word to her about any of them. You could argue that he doesn’t want to involve her, but... JYL pretty clearly takes JC’s side every time JC starts having a go at WWX. When he chases him out of their room, when he starts snapping about how annoying WWX is, when he stabs WWX... She never outright says it, but there really does come a point where by staying neutral you’re siding with the aggressor, and she reaches that point a lot. Hell, the stabbing is one of those aforementioned near-murders! JC stabbed him! According to WWX (who downplays serious injuries, he never exaggerates them) he had to hold his guts in! WWX is talking about a pretty fucking serious injury (and JYL grew up in a cultivation sect, I don’t believe for a second she doesn’t at least know what constitutes a serious injury) while JC whines about a broken arm like it’s worse than having to physically hold your guts in until you can reach a doctor and JYL acts like those are equal! JC could easily have killed WWX and has enough training with the sword to know better than to go for a blow like that in a staged fight and JYL doesn’t even suggest he should apologise.

Honestly? The more I think about JYL the more it pisses me off that she’s treated like WWX’s best sister more than WQ is. Imagine WQ seeing one brother stab the other in the gut and take the former’s side because the latter broke the former’s arm. Imagine WQ so much as considering allowing a child to cover up the kid he’s supposed to share a room with locking him out and scaring him into running away. She wouldn’t! Because WQ sees her brothers as equals. She won’t pick WN over WWX just because they’re blood siblings; she loves them both, and will choose based on who she thinks is in the right. And she wouldn’t just stay neutral to avoid rocking the boat, oh no. If WQ heard WWX say that WN stabbed him and did enough damage that he had to hold his guts in... oh boy would WN have a bad day. The thing with JYL is that she seems like a good sister in comparison to the rest of the Jiangs; stick canon JYL into a family that genuinely loves WWX and sees him as equal to their other children, and she would not look anywhere near as good.

#mdzs #lotus sister #i still love jyl but... well #she's not actually a good sister to wwx despite being the only jiang to claim him as family #she looks good in comparison to the rest of the jiangs #but i'd pick wq over her any day #anon #asks

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swishswishspiritsword · 4 years

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Merchant Shang AU 2

The panic didn't really set in until they arrived at his estate–and that was still a weird fact of his life, an estate–and he had Xiao She settle "Empress Su Xiyan" in the guest house. The not-a-maid kinda bodyguard looked at him with obvious disbelief at his address for the young woman, so unnerved by it she slipped enough that her eyes were golden with slitted pupils. Shang Houhua could empathize. He too was freaking out about the sudden occurrence and realizing your boss might be involved with the Big Boss of the world you specifically emigrated away from is distressing.

Although that did mean he could check another point for her being a snake demoness over a crane demoness in his mental chart.

Shang Houhua offered her a sympathetic grimace and awkward shoulder pat.

"Xiao She should go take a break," Shang Houhua said kindly. Or at least in his best attempt. He'd gotten better at socializing since he'd actually managed to curate Actual Human (And Non-Human) Relationships, but he was still a "work in progress" as Luo Ren put it delicately or a "disaster in emotional understanding" according to the ever blunt Steward He.

Shang Houhua was kinda hoping he was somewhere in the middle.

Xiao She had given him a Look and Shang Houhua knew that it meant he would find his very irritable not-a-maid insisting on keeping watch over him personally until this situation was handled.

Or Shang Houhua was dead.

He wasn't actually sure which would come first. And was very carefully not actively thinking about it until his internal screaming could become external in the safety of his heavily warded fluffy bed.

"Yes, Master Shang," Xiao She said with a little more hiss on the words than usual. That may have been a flash of fang.

Shang Houhua winced. So, his staff may be a bit more upset about the revelations than normal. He hesitated a little unsure if he should point it out considering the general Ignore Everything Rule the mixed species estate ran by.

"...Xiao She may want to compose herself in private unless she has decided to, ah, be more, hm, free with her identity."

That probably wasn't terribly delicate, but Shang Houhua was running on fumes, adrenaline, and specific Plot Related panic he hadn't had to deal with in a solid decade. Shang Houhua nodded again in awkward acknowledgment and Did Not See Xiao She dash up to the roof to avoid corridors or the way the charcoal girl had a thin rat-like tail poking out the bottom of her skirt. Shang Houhua had not seen things for years and went to his room to collapse in peace after one last order for the doctor to be sent to Su Xiyan's room.

Shang Houhua hadn't actually meant to turn his estate into some kind of halfway house for more pro-human demons or half-demons. Honestly, owning an estate in the first place had been an accident caused by picking up what could only be described as a side quest. During his early wandering around the great (terrible) world he created, free from his "fate" he'd stumbled into being a rogue cultivator to pay the bills.

He needed money! Starting up businesses took a lot of it. And connections too! If Logistics Hell taught him anything it was this. So he used what he had to get by.

And honestly he wasn't actually terrible it turned out? He would never be a War God but he did pay attention to the basics, was a resourceful (read cheating) man,and had wanted to avoid being brutally murdered by what passed as a houseplant on some peaks. Besides as Author God he did know more than the average Sect Dropout.

Most people didn't really need big things either. He did minor things to get by. He made talismans to help ward off wandering monsters from farmers livestock and fields. He performed purifying rituals on a town's toddlers to help insure they were protected even after death. He helped fetch some plants to heal someone or an item to break a curse. It had felt a little like playing through an RPG and it wasn't the most stable but Shang Houhua was revelling in not having a bluescreen of death stalking his every breath of air.

The estate had happened when, a very tired and recently poor, Shang Houhua had met Old Sun. Old Sun was one of those eccentric independently wealthy men who never married and liked to collect weird shit. Among that weird shit was something cursed which made the entire estate a horror zone. Old Sun had done everything to stop it. He'd tried to get rid of it only for it to find him. He'd tried to get it blessed at a temple only for it to throw the monks around like dolls until they'd called quits. He'd tried to move away abandoning his home in the city for his estate in bumfuck nowhere. He'd hired cultivators, other rogues, only for them to take the money and split.

He could only dismiss his staff to protect them and set out to beg help from one of the righteous sects with the increasingly starving ghost dogging his steps and weakening him.

Shang Houhua had found the old man collapsed on the road and helped out, noticing the nice clothes he'd been wondering idly about a possible reward, when resentful energy started to waft off him making Shang Houhua choke on his lunch.

Thankfully he'd recognized the item, a minor cursed bangle of a famous courtesan that had been part of a mini quest. After working his way through as many cursed jewelry plotlines as he could he'd eventually remembered this specific bangle and set the spirit to rest, dispersing the resentful energy.

Old Sun had woken up happy, healthy,and uncursed. He was so grateful he insisted Shang Houhua come spend the night at his home and be rewarded. Shang Houhua was not about to say no and happily accepted. He could, literally, not afford any chance at money.

He just hadn't expected the man to adopt him, shamelessly dragging him into his house.

After a while Shang Houhua accepted because he actually liked sleeping in a bed and he gained his third family. Fourth if you counted his shortly lived martial family. It took some adjustment but Shang Houhua wound up actually liking Old Sun and, even more bewildering, was liked in return. Shang Houhua helped him identify the weird shit he collected, occasionally adding to the collection, and Old Sun feed and clothed him all while cheerfully listening to rants about story ideas.

Shang Houhua had no trouble picking out his favorite, his first real and positive, family member.

It was on one of his trips to buy ingredients to start up his soap business that had started him down the road of Demonic Social Worker. He'd helped hide one terrified teenager from a mob, sneaking her out of town, and next thing he knows she's turning up at the estate to ask to repay him. Old Sun insisted on offering her a position and kept insisting as others slowly trickled in as the Don't Ask policy of their staff choices spread and they slowly filled the empty house.

Old Sun had been delighted by the noise and people they gathered while he'd been alive. He'd happily bounced the stablemaster's baby with suspicious sharp teeth and pointy ears on his knee and chatted enthusiastically with Steward He about his collection ignoring when the man fell into first person describing the bloody history of some demonic items.

Shang Houhua had simply continued the tradition when he'd suddenly inherited and expanded it with his business, spreading out their household as traders and managers when he could.

He was fairly certain Luo Ren and himself were the only fully human people in the building.

–

Honestly a future Demon Empress was only the next step up. Or at least that's what he tried to tell his panicking mind. And she wasn't permanent. He would lead her to Tianlang-jun and happily fuck off back to obscurity.

Definitely.

A knock interrupted his screaming and Shang Houhua removed the pillow from his face to clear his throat and give permission to enter.

It was Steward He and the man was looking unruffled as always, at least until Shang Houhua noticed the way his hands were carefully hidden in his robes, his skin seemed unnaturally smooth and more youthful, and his eyes were amber tinted.

Also upset then.

"Lady Xiyan is demanding an audience," Steward He said mostly neutrally in a way that meant he was far from neutral. "And we've received a request from a group of Huan Hua Palace cultivators to scour the town and our grounds in search of a missing disciple. The town's leaders have instructed them to obey your decision on the matter."

Shang Houhua shoved the pillow back down and Steward He allowed him a few moments to scream.

Part 1 - Part 3

#shang qinghua #fanfic #merchant sqh au #ocs #svsss

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anika-ann · 4 years

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WINSoD - Pt.5

If One Should Fall...

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2, part 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3120

Summary: In which distribution of forces on the stones-retrieving mission changes. Because— reasons.The reason being a special visit someone pays you.

Warnings!: skip to post-Infinity War and the summary of it - you can imagine; deaths, violence....briefly tho, + language, mention of the inability to bear children, brief suicidal thoughts, kinda religious motives because SPN

A/N: Enormous time skip, because obviously CA:CW didn’t happen and the timeline is changed from canon already. Also, the title (What I’d Never Say or Do had I been in my right mind) is reeeeeally applicable in this one and somehow… it felt right to connect the chapters like this. Do not murder me…?

Part 4

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Forever was a funny word. A funny concept, perhaps. People always said they wished for some moments to last forever and what they meant was for them to last as long as possible, with no change in sight. Or they said that something unpleasant felt like it lasted forever, their souls craving an end of the misery, a fundamental change as the polar opposite to the first case.

You lived through both in the past years.

Sitting on your ass in a Wakandian palace, watching a battle unfold in front of you, an ensemble of great warriors fighting yet another army from space, that felt like forever, a never-ending nightmare and you only got to watch.

It set a pattern for you for several more years to come. To only watch.

You watched an alien creature steal the sceptre that the Avengers had decided to store in the palace and it did so while killing everything in its way. Princess Shuri had the great idea of hiding you and cuffing you so you wouldn’t stand in the creature’s path while she tried to stop it with the others. She ended up in shattered glass, only unconscious, as if thanks to a miracle.

You watched as… as she fell apart to ashes only minutes later; just like many, oh so many others.

Half of the population, they said.

Thanos, The Mad Titan, had wiped half of all living creatures.

The moment was carved into your brain forever. And the eternal time you waited for anyone to come back from the battle, to see Steve alive, because God, please, let him live – yes, that sure as hell felt like forever too.

Lives were lost. Bucky, Sam, Ryan, Wanda, Pietro, Peter, Shuri, T’Challa, Strange, Fury… the list went on and on. All of them, gone. Forever.

The world changed. Avengers ow officially didn’t exist and yet recruited new members all over the freakin’ space, which was the only way of finding out Tony Stark, who had disappeared on a spaceship, in fact, survived.

The missions of the greatest defenders of Earth changed as well. Some members took off to start a family, lucky enough to still have a partner to do so. Or to have the ability to pass their genes.

You couldn’t. Or maybe Steve couldn’t, it didn’t matter. You never pried after the source of your inability to have children; you two were one, a unity. You didn’t want to know so you could point fingers. You could tell Steve blamed himself, as well as he knew that your irregular period was definitely not helping. You made your peace. In fact, you admired Tony for finding the courage to create an environment for a child in this mad world; your lack of faith in being able to do the same had the opportunity rose ironically helped you to come to terms with the fact of your body was not functioning right.

In a way, it only drew you and Steve closer. You had valued each other before, yes, but now… you truly were like one. You backed him up in how he decided to honour Sam’s memory by starting a support group and he was the one to sense that in a search for reassurance, strangely materialistic, you craved an official bond with him, despite never saying a word.

You were Steve’s wife now – and you were each other’s rock, even during the poor attempt at defeating Thanos again.

Five years was a long time, a forever, one might say, but when Scott Lang, one of the people believed to been dusted, reappeared, forever and never became relative again.

Which led you to now; what was left of the Earth’s mightiest heroes was planning on retrieving the infinity stones.

Because they figured out how to time-travel.

Observing your reflection in the mirror, the circles under your eyes, you couldn’t but run your hand down your face and sigh.

You were still struggling with accepting the incredible fact of the possibility of coming back in time, yet you had to shush the hope inside you. Hope was a dangerous thing; certainly on such big scale as everything could being as it had been, hope that all the people who had lost their lives during the Snap could be resurrected.

As for a person who in fact had died once, it was easier for you to believe it was possible and you weren’t sure that it was a good thing. The fear of losing what you still had – read Steve, mainly – in the process, was paralyzing. It would mean your end, one you might deliver by yourself if it came to it, because you weren’t as strong as your husband. You wouldn’t make it through. Not after everything that happened.

You sighed again and tried to shake off the darkest thoughts.

When your eyes fell on the reflection again, a man stood behind your shoulder.

You spun on your heels and jerked away, your bottom bumping into the sink with a startled yelp escaping your lips.

In a fraction of second, several ways of defending yourself flashed through you mind; but the man was already three feet away; in a blink of an eye, before you could even move further.

Chest heaving with frantic breaths, hand over your heart, you stared at the intruder dressed in a three-piece suit and a red cravat. Of average height and maybe few pounds over healthy weight, smoothly shaven so his smirk could stand out, he looked… peculiar, especially given the fact he had found himself in the ladies’ room.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he spoke up with some kind of an accent on top of everything, but it did.

“Saving the world is exhausting, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, speechless. Your brain kicked into an overdrive, analysing how much of a threat he was, if he was like Pietro, too fast for Friday to catch him, or what was he-

“Who the-“

“I’m Crowley, darling. And you don’t need look so scared. If I wanted you dead, you’d be already lying here in a puddle of blood,” he reassured you like a sleazy businessman, all pretence at kindness.

You winced at the visual and narrowed your eyes.

“Alright, Crowley, what do you want? And what exactly are you?” you demanded, uncertain why you felt calm despite the man appearing out of thin air and speaking of you dying in the bloodiest way. Were you truly so numb these days?

He smiled, as if he was old friend. “I am a friend of Moose and Squirrel-“ What. “-or Sam and Dean, as you know them. I have no doubt they mentioned me. After all, my mother is assisting them more than she would like. You met her, incidentally.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out – you hadn’t met many people during your time with the Winchesters. This man… was probably a warlock. A witch. Rowena apparently had a son.

Well. Shit.

“Okay. So… you’re a witch or something. Means I shouldn’t trust you fully. Noted. Now what do you want?”

His face twisted in a theatrical insulted grimace, his palm laid on his chest as if you just shot him through the heart – which, by the way, would probably do nothing to him.

“First of all, I am here to help, so I don’t think you have other option than trusting me. Second of all, I am not a witch, I am the King of Hell, thank you very much-“

Somewhere in the back of your mind, Sam Winchester’s voice whispered something about the King of Hell having been Dean’s bestie for a while, which did not make you feel any better, only more confused.

“And thirdly… I’m here to tell you what you, my darling, need to do for this mission to be successful.”

You stared at him incredulously, his casual stance and animated speech bewildering, and had no clue what to make of it.

Yet, you let him speak. You let him give you the advice no one ever wanted to receive. Ever. But this sleazy man had told you about how he had saved the world before, side by side with the Winchesters and everything suddenly made sense.

Crowley, the King of Hell, answered the most burning question you had been asking yourself ever since coming back from the death, doing so more and more often these days.

Why.

Why were you given the second chance at life? Why you of all people? What was the purpose?

And now you knew.

Rowena was the greatest witch the supernatural world had ever created and she supposedly looked through all the possible futures she could. Tony had once told you, drunk and hurting, that Strange had done the same right before the battle and he only saw one way of how it could end with Thanos’ loss. Now Crowley told you the ‘one’ future was still in play, that everything was actually still on the way to the world’s victory.

The price of victory was high. History had taught you that.

But the price people paid for losing was higher.

And as much as you hated what you apparently had to do…

“Okay,” you rasped, guilt already gnawing at your chest, tears strolling down your face, fear eating you up from the inside, fear of unknown and yet known, instincts fighting the urge to do the right thing and finally actually help to the heroes you found yourself among while still useless.

You were only watching too long. Forever, one might say.

“Okay?” he echoed, clearly surprised by your antics.

You only nodded, wiping away your tears and forcing your breathing to calm and steady. There was no way you could go back to the base of operating in the living room like this. You needed to be a fucking grown-up. Grown-ups had to be okay with not being okay. You must finally become worthy of being Captain Amer- Steve’s wife.

“Yes, Crowley. I’ll do it. Though I still have no idea why you came here to tell me. Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you teased him lightly, your mouth speaking its will without permission, the question only half-expecting an answer.

“Well, my darling. It’s the end of the world as we know it. It doesn’t matter now if you’re good or bad. Not if you want the world not to end.”

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You were a terrible actress; a Razzies-nominee kind of actress. You couldn’t lie to save your life (the irony of such statement was not lost on you, yet it wasn’t properly appreciated either) and you were aware of the fact that Steve liked that about you. You could never lie to him. So you never tried.

You knew you couldn’t break that streak now, because he would see right through you. So you stooped lower than ever. Omitting the truth. Lying by not sharing the whole story. Whether you could make that work, only time would tell.

When you finally managed to compose yourself – at least more or less – and exited the bathroom, you found out that not much had changed. The team was still debating the details of best approach, uncertain but determined expressions on their faces.

Steve spared once glace at you and instantly was able to tell something was wrong. He hid you from the view of the others by his broad figure, concerned eyes scanning your face, observing and searching for any clue; for the source of your distress. As if the fact that they were – you all were, even if they didn’t know yet – about to time travel wasn’t enough to give one palpitations and serious stress-induced headache.

His tender fingers tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as if it would help the mess your hairstyle must have been. A small encouraging smile graced his lips despite his own mind no doubt weighted down by numerous worries.

He didn’t have to ask for you to start talking, the brilliant colour of his eyes sweet and inviting enough.

“What if something goes wrong?” you questioned in a hushed whisper, not having to pretend to have such haunting thought. “What if… I don’t even want to think about what could it be. You’re going to need someone capable to pull you out. I am… I am not that capable. Definitely not when it comes to science of time-travel.”

Despite Steve acting like a human shield, your concerns were acknowledged by everyone, their heads snapping your direction. Steve, feeling all the curious eyes, cleared his throat and gently took your arm, leading you away from the prying ears.

“….excuse us for a second,” he hummed absently, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak with you again. “Doll… what- what is this really about?”

“What do you mean-“ you bluffed lamely in an instant, but the look Steve gave you shut you up.

“I know you, sweetheart. You can’t lie to me.”

If you weren’t dreading what you were about to do, you might throw a ‘watch me’ back at him. Instead, you aimed for an irritated tone – one that would be justified in case he would truly be questioning the claim you were about to point out.

“So you think I’m not afraid for you?”

A frown crossed over his face, his palm on your bicep tightening before he eased his hold to brush his thumb over the very same spot. “No! That’s not- I just know there’s something more. What is it?”

Gulping and averting his gaze, because the intense burn of genuine concern was unbearable, your mind raced with the effort to find the right words.

Your stomach was tied in tight knots, turning at the idea of playing Steve, more so for such nefarious purpose. But how else you could have convinced him that it couldn’t in fact be him and Natasha going to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone?

“I… I want to help. I need to help, Steve. You’re— you're so strong, always the hero and I’m not even close, I-“

“-need to prove my worth?” he finished easily, a knowing look in his eyes, and fuck him, how did he know—

He might not understand fully, he had no way of knowing what Crowley told you to do, but still, Steve was still able to recognize what fuelled your determination, what were your motives.

You opened your mouth uselessly, a shaky exhale brushing Steve’s face as he lowered his head to you, his eyes wide and genuinely troubled. God, you couldn’t bare the intensity of his gaze.

“Christ, doll. Where’s this coming from? Don’t be rid-“ From the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips as he swiftly cut himself off before calling you ridiculous. His large warm palms framed your face, forcing you to lock your gaze with his, passionate words accented by the burning fire of his irises. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not to them, certainly not to me. You are my everything and you are the most amazing person I have ever met-“

You closed your eyes, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite your better judgement. You never doubted Steve’s feelings, yet he was always quick to reassure you, having the patience of a saint whenever he noticed a hint of insecurity.

“I know. I swear I know that, I know how you feel, but- let me do this. What if… what if you don’t come back? What if you don’t come back and I’d be just sitting here, knowing I could have done something, but I didn’t. You’re too familiar with that feeling, Steve. Please. Let me come with you,” you pleaded in a hushed voice, hating you reminded him of losing you, but knowing it might be effective. “You know you can protect me when it comes to it.”

Brows drawn together, Steve observed you, baffled and yet understanding at the same time, torn between the instinct to have you protected at the compound and the responsibility he felt towards this mission. This was the fight of your lives; deep down, he must have known he couldn’t afford to jeopardize that even if it came to you. Which, naturally, didn’t mean he had to like it.

A clearing of one’s throat that sounded a bit like a clap of thunder interrupted your staring contest and you both glanced towards Bruce’s huge green form in the doorway, sheepish expression comical on his massive face.

“…sorry to interrupt, but… we kinda all think she has a point so-“

Steve’s sucked in air between his teeth, letting his hands drop from you face, only for one of them to run through his hair, the other balling in a fist.

You shrugged, the battle of emotions – victory and defeat at the same time, because God, why – no doubt visible on your face as Steve turned his attention solely to you once more.

“I’ll give you guys another sec…” Bruce hummed, backing out of the door, leaving you to deal with clearly irritated and reluctant Steve.

Thanks, buddy.

Wordlessly, Steve’s fingers slipped beneath your jaw, pulling you in for one of the strangest kisses of your life. H poured all his emotions into one simple gesture, hungry and intense, intimate wet sound of a dirty encounter of mouths echoing in the otherwise silent room. You allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of Steve’s lips on yours, in his arm grabbing you and pressing flush against his hard chest; it was all too harsh for anyone to believe it was not a display of affection of a half-desperate man.

Breathless and with vertigo nearly overcoming you, you rested your forehead against Steve’s, mirroring his action once you parted. His eyes were closed shut, as if too heavy to kept open, but you could see that something in his expression shifted; you and Bruce won.

Peripherally, you noticed Crowley’s faint figure, the shortest of appearances as he nodded in approval and goodbye. You suspected he did something so Steve gave in; you didn’t care what and how, hoping it didn’t harm your soulmate.

Tears stung in your eyes when you realized what was to come and you forced them to be kept at bay, shutting your eyes close again.

“Fine, have it your way,” Steve rasped, his voice clearly irked, yet resigned. “But if you get one scratch on you, doll, just one, I’ll hold you responsible.”

No, you won’t.

You charmed a guilty smile, a lame tiny thing, and he inhaled sharply, only for huffing the air out.

“How could I, having my chivalrous man by my side?”

It earned you a kiss on your forehead, Steve’s fingers interlacing with yours when you made your way back to the other room where everyone waited.

Oh, how much it now hurt, the amount of faith Steve could put into you, charmed by your teary smile, that little thing puling on his heartstrings.

Oh, just how much it would hurt…

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 6

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

This chapter might seem a bit strange, but hopefully it fits the atmosphere of Infinity War and Endgame…

Thanks for being here. I love you for your encouragement :-*

P.S. Here, have the last part of a SPN guide - visuals and references for Amara (God’s sister who gave back ‘reader’s’ memories) and Crowley (from this chapter).

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cosmiccandydreamer · 4 years

Text

Stability Chapter 11

Otis Driftwood x Reader

Masterlist is here.

"You listen to me, and you listen well! I am gonna kill every member of your family! I'm gonna hunt them down like the animals they are, and I'm gonna skin em' alive! They are going to feel the pain and suffering of every last victim!" A disgusting squishy sound-filled the empty void of the cell. Sheriff Wydell had stabbed Mama Firefly in the stomach and twisted it until the light left her eyes.

He was done playing this cat and mouse game. Mama's last taunt and laughter that ran through the station after more questioning pushed him over the edge. He had grabbed a large knife from his office and stabbed her in the stomach. As she fell to the ground he stood and took in the scene of what he had done. There was no turning back now, people like these people are monsters he thought to himself and the only thing monsters fear are other monsters. He had discovered through the interrogation that his brother was indeed murdered by Mama herself when he had come to investigate the cheerleader's disappearance.

Sheriff John Wydell's eyes widened at the sight of his dead brother getting up from the couch he was sitting on, he began stuttering "I'm, I'm walking the line on this brother. I'm... I'm walking".George Wydell scoffed and answered sarcastically "Well, mother pin a rose on me, that is so great! I want these motherfuckers dead! Kill 'em!" John Wydell jumped up in a cold sweat… oh it was just a dream he thought, or was it? It couldn't be this hard to be signed by his brother that he needed to avenge him. "I'm brother, I'm trying," he thought to himself.

"Why are you over here all by yourself handsome? Married or not you don't gotta be all alone"... Candy had slinked over to where Otis was laying on the couch downing a bottle of Jack Daniels. The rest of the crew was partying with the ladies at the brothel. Otis wasn't in the mood to party though. He wanted to get out of here and get moving.

He felt guilty which was surprising for someone like him, that he was here enjoying a safe environment for the night without knowing where you were. "What do you want woman" he scoffed and attempted to get up.. "now now lay down You look like a mess Is your back hurting or something I can give you a massage I am a masseuse Well at least I can give a good enough massage that feels like I'm a masseuse" Candy said in a sultry voice twirling her hair, "listen here woman I said I ain't fucking you so go on and get" Otis said shooing her away with his hand.

"Hey now no one said anything about fucking! How about I help you out friend to friend? You just must be tense worrying about your old lady out there". She sat next to him on the couch, he slowly got up to face her, "just a massage right No funny business or I'll throw your ass through the window". "Duly noted" she laughed and helped him stand grabbing his arm. She led him to a soft mattress on the floor.

Sheriff Wydell on the other hand was not having the best night either, he was racking his brain on what was the next step to take for finding the four of you. He found himself staring at himself in the mirror talking to himself "You know I got to tell you, that's some catch phrase you got there, Devil's Rejects. What? You got something to say to me clown, huh. I bet you scare lots of folks, don't ya? Yeah, regular fuckiin' killer. You want a piece of this motherfucker? You want a piece of this? Huh, what you got! What you got! Lord I am your arm of justice. Lord I am your arm of justice. Lord I am your arm of justice. Your righteous sword of vengeance. Let my blows be true. From the illusion leads me to truth. From darkness leads me to light. From death leads me to eternal life."

"Ah sir? That guy you asked for is here" his deputy Ray Dobson knocked on the door to his office breaking him out of his trance. It was his deputy, who made the connection that the aliases the family members usually went by and their connection to the old Groucho Marx films. He also discovered that the Fireflies were associated with the local clowns celebrity Captain Spaulding. Hoping to gain some insight into this connection, Wydell brought in film critic Marty Walker for consultation.

The over the top Marty illustrated how each of the killers named themselves after characters played by Groucho Marx throughout the course of his career. Things between Wydell and Walker quickly became unsavory when the critic made a remark about Elvis Presley. Marty head scateched his head while looking at the clues pinned to the board "that goddamn fucking Elvis Presley." Sheriff Wydell looked up at him with his eyes wide and full of rage.

"What'd you say about the King?!" Marty was clearly taken aback by the sudden tone change and looked around at everyone else in the room before sputtering out "I said he died three days before Grouch…" Wydell walked very close to him, looked him deep in the eyes and slowly said "Marty... if you ever say another derogatory word about Elvis Aaron Presley I WILL KICK THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU!".

"Boss don't you remember we had to run in with that guy Charlie not too long ago didn't he stay around with the guy named Spalding?" Ray quickly replied trying to defuse the situation. "Well goddamn you're right Ray… let's go pay Mr. Charlie boy a visit" he backed away from Marty and grabbed his hat. "Be seeing you Marty"

Spalding had told Charlie that if he went and bought some fresh chicken He whipped them up some fried chicken on the house as a thank you for letting them hide out there. Unbeknownst to Charlie Sheriff Wydell had spotted him leaving the funtown and heading towards the chicken stand. He corners Charlie and demands that he give up the three of them and if he had any information on where you were he needs to give that information up to or it would not end well for him.

He also asked him if he catches Otis in any compromising situations if he could snap a photo. It would be in his best interest. "I was also wondering," Wydell said, closing the car door a bit more on Charlie. He had closed his car door on Charlie's hands after instructing him to approach the vehicle once they cornered him in with their vehicle. "Is this girl with them by any chance? and I'm only going to give you one chance to answer me honestly" he held up a picture of you, Charlie shook his head viciously "no no naw she ain't with them gods truth man god's truth".. "god's truth hmm well you know where she is? I would like to have a little chat with her" Wydell replied. "Oh c'mon what's that lil girl gonna do" Charlie attempted to chuckle. "Hmm" Wydell said "looks can be deceiving, anyways tonight midnight I'll be seeing you". He released his hand and drove off in a cloud of dirt and smoke.

Back at the house unfortunately or fortunately depending on how you look at it for Otis, Candy was actually a very good masseuse and actually did just give him massage without reaching for his penis which is what he assumed was going to happen. His back was killing him from the hours of driving and that shit van they had stolen from the family back at the motel.

He also was holding a lot of stress in his shoulders from the anxiety of the plan not going his way and not having any word from you now for multiple days. Unfortunately now she wouldn't stop following him around which was starting to piss him off because one she was annoying and two his back was still hurting and he could have used another massage. "You sure you don't want another one I mean you passed out during yesterday's massage just let me do your shoulders just a little more" she said skipping toward him.

He wasn't sure if she was just trying to be nice or she was trying to wear him down to fuck her or something. He sat cleaning his knife while staring off into space thinking about you and when you gave this knife to him. You were in town with Baby and wandered into an antique store. You knew as soon as you saw it you had to have it.. he was overjoyed at the knife and vowed to never go anywhere without it.

"What took you all so long? You said you were just heading into town for some supplies tonight" He asked , slamming the screen door behind him and walking out towards the car. You had insisted on driving your mustang into town with Baby on a girl's trip while he was in the middle of a project. He was hesitant but he allowed it because he knew that you two could probably use some girl time, he wasn't the easiest to always be around.

"Oh shut up Don't know why you always got to be rushing people" Baby replied flipping her hair and strolling past Otis. "Fuck you" "no fuck you" "no fuck" "Hey!!" You yelled waving your hand in his face. "I took so long because I got you something, I saw it and I couldn't pass it up". You pulled out a dark paper bag and handed it to him. He looked inside and got silent, it was a large beautiful knife. Taking it out the bag he held it in his large hands and studied it closely. "Shit darlin this, this is beautiful..for me huh?" "Yeah of course!" "Why though?" He asked looking back at you with general confusion on his face. You walked over and stepped up on your tippy toes to softly kiss him. "Just wanted to do something nice because I love you". You said patting his chest and walking inside after Baby.

He stood there for a few more moments looking at the knife and tucking it in his boot. Once inside he grabbed you by the waist and kissed you deep. "Thanks.. ah.. I just don't know how to accept gifts, not used to 'em." "Well I'm glad you like it" you smiled up at him "had me worried for a second I was starting wonder if you didn't like it" "naw I love it it's going everywhere with me always" he said wrapping his long arms around you "just like you".

"Stop hovering woman!! If I need anything from you I'd ask now get" he huffed at her looking back to his knife. She stood for a moment and turned on her heels and headed away. Charlie headed back to the house trying to swallow the anxiety in his throat. He didn't want to betry the group but he also wanted to protect his business and livelyhood. He stopped at the liquor store and grabbed a bunch more bottles of Jack Daniels, might as well get them drunk and make this shit easier.

#otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #three from hell #otis driftwood x reader #otis firefly #thedevilsrejects #the devils rejects

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cottoncandyjester · 3 years

Text

Joining rin’s gang is no easy thing

Warning this contains: dark topics, Rin being a little feral, talk of noncon

“I said no. How many times to I have to say it stop asking”

Rin hissed out as he was doing his clown makeup infront of the bathroom mirror. You have been asking to join his gang for months now and each time it’s the same..flat out rejection. He was about to leave to meet up with his gang and luckily you were stubborn and weren’t giving up

“I thought you said anyone can join! I’m in that anyone group”

“Actually you are a special case, the answer is no y/n just drop it we aren’t some kids club” Rin said firmly and you huff3: “I know that! What is the real reason you won’t let me join?” You asked and Rin slammed the makeup brush on the table barley even able to do his makeup cause you were pestering him.

“Y/n, there are murders in there. People who do violating things, things I order them too so if I were to tell you to kill someone would you really do it?” Rin said lowly and you got serious giving him a nod.

“Let me join Rin.”

“I’m a different person when I’m with them, so different. You ready for that?” He stated and you gave another firm nod.

It wasn’t long til Rin and you walked inside the building disguised as a clown rental. Rin was dressed in a jester like outfit face painted up, after walking down a hallway he kicked open a set of doors

“My babies!”

“Boss!”

He was soon surrounded by loss of people all dressed up as clowns and each having their own special theme, you awkwardly moved over to a corner waiting to be introduced or something. It didn’t take long for someone to notice you

“Are you new sweetheart? I haven’t seen your face around here” you heard a gentle tone and looked up to see a tall male leaning down smiling brightly at you, he wasn’t dressed in makeup or crazy clown attire instead he had a black lab coat with rainbow polka dots all over.

“I-um, y-yeah” you stammered out nervously shocked to see someone who looked downright gentle and pretty in a gang. Rin finally turned back to you and grinned “ohhhhh BB~” he chimed out standing tall and gazing at Rin “yes boss?”

“Can you have our new comer tested? The rest of us are gonna start the other preparations” Rin chimed out now humming excitedly as he swayed side to side much like a child.

“Certainly, come with me okay there honey?” The one named BB chimed out soft grabbing your wrist and pulling you along.

“Your name is BB?”

“That’s the one that was picked for me after I completed the test we all have a real name and a clown name” he explained as he walked you to a medical room before letting you go and turning to a shelf.

“What am I getting tested for?”

“STDs or anything with that. A lot of members get intimate so it’s a safety thing take a seat on the examination table for me please” the male stated as he held an empty syringe in his hand wiping your arm with an alcohol wipe

“You don’t look like a member”

“I don’t do the things they do, I’m simply a medic patching them up and what not, now stay still okay?” He asked as he pressed the needle in taking some blood from you making you wince lightly.

“What’s the test to join like”

“I’m sorry, I can’t say” he said as he took the syringe and poured your blood into a machine that tested it. While you two waited for the tests to print he ended up making you a clear glove balloon filling it up with rainbow glitter, he also ended up feeding you a bunch of snacks he had stashed away. Of course you were clean and once done BB walked you to the spot humming softly as he did, he took you outside to a garden area that led out into a thick woods area. Outside stood Rin and the others, all having different weapons in their hand.

“Good luck sugarplum” bb said before giving you a hug “look for a maple tree marked with a star symbol, in the leaves should be something to aid you..please be careful” he whispers before letting you go and softly pushed you infront towards Rin who was tossing and knife in the air catching it skillfully

“Last chance y/n, you sure you want this?” Rin asked out and you gulped giving a nod making him sigh before turning to the group flashing a smile “okayyyy! You know the rules! you got an hour to catch the bunny, if you do you get to violate them until you’re satisfied but if time runs out the bunny wins and they are a part of the family!” Rin cheered out making your heart beat faster as all eyes were on you and your body looked ranging from hunger to bloodlust and even a murderous excitement filled their eyes.

“Ears please tutu” Rin demanded and soon an excited pastel clown girl skipped up to you placing bunny ears on you “please lose, I’ve been itching to try my new toys on a girl!” She cheered out before skipping back to her area. Rin walked up to you eyes no longer having that sweet loving look but instead had a murderous excitement

“If I catch you, god knows what I’ll do..so run okay? Run really really fast and make sure you hide cause if I catch you..” Rin paused now holding you close “I’ll cut your stomach open and fuck the hole until you die..” Rin whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek now pulling back

“Now! What do bunnies do folks?”

“They hop!”

Everyone cheered as Rin stabbed you right in the leg digging the blade in deep and leaving it in there “a weapon for the bunny..to make it fair now hop along bunny, you have a five minute head start”

You were crying in pain and panic filled your eyes as you realized what will happen if you were to lose..why did you think this was a good idea? With a shaky huff you ignored the pain and ran for the woods remembering what BB said about the tree, maple tree with a star. Okay got it

After five minutes Rin set a timer for an hour “alright, time to play!”

#yandere imagines #yandere ocs #yandere #Rin

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ask-hunterxhunter · 4 years

Note

Headcanons for Hisoka, Illumi, and Chrollo losing their female s/o to childbirth? Like the moment labor starts their s/o is in unbearable pain and she bleeds too much and passes away. How would they cope with losing one of the few people they actually love & having to be responsible for a baby on their own now? Thank u so much :3

Hisoka

This is one of the few occasions when Hisoka is lost for a while. Even as he holds your hand and feels life leaving your body, he just doesn’t react immediately. It’s not he never considered you dying before, it’s just that it doesn’t feel real when it happens. You can’t be gone. You just can’t… It’s like this event has no place in reality. It’s also one of the few occasions when Hisoka becomes a little more… Sentimental. Oh, not while the doctors are in the room (in fact, his lack of bigger reaction will either be considered shock or him being a cold bastard in their eyes), but once they leave him alone with your body… Hisoka doesn’t cry, he doesn’t scream, but he brushes your face gently as he says goodbye…

All in all, he seems to be taking it rather well, right?

Wrong. Dear Lord, wrong.

When he arrives home, Hisoka just sits for a moment… And screams. He isn’t someone who takes refuge in denial, he doesn’t go on how this isn’t happening… But it doesn’t make acceptance easier. As used to death as Hisoka is, he has always been a lone wolf who never cared for anyone else but you. Accepting the death of a loved one is never easy for anyone, but we can’t say Hisoka is exactly well-prepared or adjusted for such things.

His initial reaction is downright scary. He screams, his bloodlust overflows (it’s the only way he knows how to deal with things), but there isn’t anyone to blame, anyone to go after (it’s sad, but those things do happen), just this awful pain. The façade he keeps just drops and everything just overflows and fills the room. It’s suffocating and terrifying.

What stops him? The baby crying. Hisoka is not exactly an emotional guy, he isn’t used to dealing with those deeper emotions, but remember that he wouldn’t enter a real relationship (let alone have a child with you) if his feelings weren’t this serious. So, yes, it might be strange to imagine Hisoka caring for a baby, but this is his child. Yours and his. As soon as he hears the cries, he stops and remembers he is a father now. And yes, he does love the baby.

He isn’t feeling any better, but he holds the baby and tries to calm down.

Hisoka won’t admit it to anyone ever, however, he is almost scared now. He had admitted to you he had no idea of how to be a father (and was pretty sure he wasn’t the best material for the role), and now he has to be a single father. Does that seem like a good idea? He already admitted to Illumi he has issues. Just because he’s happy with his lifestyle and doesn’t give a crap and has no intention to change, doesn’t mean he is so much of a bastard that he doesn’t care about his own child!

Simply put, he has no idea what to do.

Wherever your soul is, you can at least rest knowing Hisoka will do his best. Will he change his lifestyle? No more than he absolutely has to (so, very little). Will he mess up? Yes. Like everyone does. Will he love this child and do the best he can? Yes. Will he care for them? Yes. He might not be the best father ever, but he won’t be an awful one, either.

Yet, Hisoka will never recover from losing you.

And just because he calms down after your death because he scared his child, it doesn’t mean he will remain calm. In fact, he may (try to) deal with it the only way he knows how: By turning to violence. He’ll be staying at Heaven’s Arena for a while and people will at once fear that they’ll have to fight him because Hisoka won’t just “not attend” the match. It’s doesn’t matter who it is or how strong they are: Hisoka will be there. And this won’t be even a fight as much as murder: He will be going after blood.

It won’t help as much as he hopes. By the end of the day, even if he uses fighting as an escape valve for what happened, he is still hurting and you’re still dead.

Illumi

To put it in one word? Badly.

Being pregnant with Illumi’s child (well, anyone from the Zoldyck, really) means you’ll have the best care money can afford (and God knows this means top care), but the fact remains that those things still can happen. Not that this means much for Illumi. Remember he doesn’t care for anyone beyond his family, so the fact that he wanted to start a family of his own with you already speaks volumes for how much he valued you. At first, he is in shock. You can’t have just left you, it’s impossible, you’re his wife, you weren’t supposed to die, this was to be the happiest day of both of your lives… But he won’t be able to refuse the fact that you died for more than a couple of seconds.

If he even suspects there was a mistake, that the doctors weren’t careful enough, anything, he’ll take it out on them (if by a lawsuit or by taking matters in his own hands, it depends), because people often want someone to blame, somewhere to focus their pain on and Illumi is one of them. Once the initial shock of the loss pass, he will want to know exactly what happened and why you died.

Not that this will bring any comfort. Even if a doctor can be blamed for what happened and Illumi deals with them, this won’t bring you back. There’s no satisfaction. There’s nothing.

As unemotional as Illumi can be, this is one of those rare cases when it looks like all the emotions he keeps away (or doesn’t seem to have at all) just explode. Think about when he felt Alluka’s power… That is tame compared to how it will be then. The only change is the nature of this explosion. I repeat: The loss of someone you love, no matter how it happens, is always painful and can always be traumatic. It doesn’t help that Illumi is, well, how he is. This event won’t help Illumi’s mental state and it might, in fact, push him further into his darkness (after all, it isn’t as if he sees anything wrong with himself to make him want to change for starters).

It's hard to tell how Illumi will deal with the loss. We know it won’t be in a normal way, let alone one we could consider healthy, but there is the presence of his family to be taken into account as they will offer support and help as much as they can which might help to reign him back a little. While he might seem to be okay with being killed by someone he “cares about” such as Killua in order to “be kept in their hearts” or controlling them with needles “for their own safety”, but losing them to death? Something that can’t ever be fixed? Not the same.

As much as his family might try to help (despite being how they are, they are still somewhat more balanced than he is), there is a limit to how much they will be able to do so. Illumi may dedicate himself to the job more than never, go after Killua (in an “I already lost my wife, I won’t lose my brother” frame of mind), or anything else that may give him the sensation of recovering control in his life and that demands attention. Again, hard to predict exactly how he will deal with it, but it won’t be by keeping good memories, remembering he will see her again in heaven or anything remotely healthy.

Regarding the baby, he won’t abandon them (as if!) and will dedicate himself to raise them well, but the problem is that without you around to “balance” his behaviour and beliefs, his methods might be worse than what his parents did to him. Illumi won’t remember your words or will just “twist” them to fit his views. Not out of disrespect for your memory, but because he truly believes in his family’s methods. Yes, he will love the baby, very much so, but again… This is Illumi we’re talking about.

On a note, about Alluka, despite his desire to do something about your death, he won’t be dumb/desperate enough to consider using Nanika’s power to bring you back, at least until he is 100% sure this won’t backfire on him (and chances are, it will anyway. I mean, when did this sort of thing ever work for anyone who tried? Read “Pet Sematary”, “Monkey’s Paw” and whatever else deals with the subject. He is twisted, not stupid).

Chrollo

Surprisingly, despite being a criminal, Chrollo can make sure you are well-cared for during pregnancy and when the time comes to give birth, you’ll have great doctors. Sadly, again, this doesn’t mean death by childbirth cannot happen (it depends on several things, even if you have top healthcare).

As someone who lives so close to death and who has little to no care for human life, Chrollo doesn’t have a moment of denial. Being in the room while you give birth, he feels life leaving you and a part of him seems to go with you… He tells the doctors to do something, to help you, but it’s too late. And he knows it. He has killed enough people to know when they are gone with no chance of getting back. He stays with you for a while, not talking, not crying, just holding your hand as if you were asleep.

Because the Spider has so many enemies, he will make sure it was indeed an accident and not someone trying to take revenge by killing you or anything of the sort (and if it turns out this is what happened, well, everyone involved is as good as dead). And also because of his lifestyle, you might think he will be somewhat better prepared for this event and know how to deal with it…

Well… No, not really. Losing you is worse than losing another member of the Spider, as it is more personal. Chrollo doesn’t make a show of how much this hurts him while there are others around (in fact, even with the Spiders he might keep his emotions under control), but when he is alone, he doesn’t care to keep a façade of calmness. Differently from Hisoka or Illumi, this won’t be an explosion of rage or a long scream, but it won’t be less of a huge blow: Chrollo feels lost and for a moment, he can’t even focus on the Troupe or what to do. He just feels your absence and a future he can no longer have while he holds the baby close.

Although he is used to “carry on” when a member of the Spider dies (and searching for whoever killed them to get revenge), this is different: Not only because he has no one to blame for, but again, it’s far more personal. You were his partner, the person he wanted to start a family with… He never allowed anyone to get this close, keeping his focus on the Troupe and its objectives and now he has to deal with losing you forever. He knows he needs to carry on. He knows there is nothing he can do now except caring for the baby and continuing with his plans. In a sense, his rational side continues to work because Chrollo basically programmed himself to be like this with the years of being who he is.

Only that this doesn’t help when emotions, that are far harder to be controlled, get involved. There is no other way of putting this: Your death leaves Chrollo devasted. And this depression may last a long time. He may get to the point of continuing his plans, keeping the Troupe’s goals and all, but underneath it all, there will be this hollowness that just won’t go away. If Senritsu was to hear his heartbeat, she would point out how worse it became.

The members of the Troupe that are closest to him, such as Machi, will know that Chrollo needs help in this moment, not as a villain or as their boss, but as a human being who lost a loved one (considering how many people they took away from their loved ones without a care, you’re free to call them hypocrites). It must be said that this help will be balanced: Enough to remind Chrollo he is not as alone as he behaves and not pushing to the point of being suffocating.

Because of that and also due to Chrollo’s ability to not lose focus despite emotional turmoil, as depressed as he gets, he won’t forget that he has a child to think about now: The uncertainty that one feels when having to be a single father is present, he isn’t sure of how he’ll balance being the Troupe’s leader with protecting and raising a child. He isn’t just going to forsake the Spiders, but he won’t just drop the kid in an orphanage and take off (unless there is so much danger closing on him that he literally has no choice, but the chances are preeetty slim). Some members of the Troupe may help Chrollo in this department (such as Machi or Pakunoda, if she is still alive when this happens) as he finds ways to reach this balance between his goals and his personal life.

#Headcanon #Chrollo #Hisoka #Illumi #Adult Trio #tragic #death by childbirth #dead s/o #Zoldyck #Lucifer #hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh headcanon #Pretty sad #Should've posted those last night but had problems with power since friday #I hate my building so much

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onelastbreath-writes · 4 years

Text

I’ll Meet You There (Part 1)

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Wife!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Mentions child loss, loss of a spouse, survivor’s guilt, vague references to suicide/suicidal thoughts after loss of child (all located in the first 500 words, so it’s brief and not too dark, but please take care) and violence, swearing, and action/fighting.

Summary: What if Marcus’s wife didn’t actually die? What if she and a few others were kidnapped during an attack on Heroics’ HQ, and then held captive for years without realizing? If the only thing you “remember” from your past is that your husband and daughter were killed, well, you surely wouldn’t want to go back to the people who you believe did it. But maybe, with the help of a tenacious child and some re-awaking parental instincts, you’ll be able to break through the brainwashing and forced amnesia, and find your way home.

Tags: Hurt/No comfort (for now), ANGST, eventual happy ending, one really sad man for whom I just keep making things worse, #sorrynotsorry

A/N: This is my first We Can Be Heroes fic, and first reader fic, so please be gentle. I’ve got the rest of the story outlined, so I hope I can get down to writing and posting it soonish, but my RL is busy and doesn’t leave much time/energy for quick updates. If you like it and want me to do a taglist, let me know so you can know when I update again. Also a big thank you to the amazing Jay @disgruntledspacedad and her fic The Right Thing for inspiring this one, and for allowing me to use her wife!reader idea. Please go check her blog out, and give her some love <3

AO3 Masterlist

---

“You’ve been in a terrible accident, Doctor, and I regret to inform you of your husband’s and daughter’s passing. Our rescue and recovery efforts after the incident were unfortunately unsuccessful, and you have our deepest sympathies.”

It took months for those words to even sink into you; months before you even remembered anything about who you were... the accident, or the attack, as it was more commonly known by you and the other victims, took your entire life away in an instant. You survived, physically, but at the cost of your partner? Your child? All the memories of your life together? How could you be worth it?

“Your transcripts and accomplishments are phenomenal, Doctor, and I’m in need of talented and capable individuals such as yourself to help right the wrongs, and demand justice, from those who have committed such heinous acts against us. The Heroics are murderers, destroyers of peace, and they have gotten away with their crimes for far too long. They’ve been praised and applauded and worshipped as gods while all they truly are, are terrorists. How many more innocent lives can we allow to be lost to their carelessness? ‘For the greater good’ is quite the insult when the people saying such things aren’t the ones losing their families to the chaos, wouldn’t you agree? Join me, Doctor, and we can make a difference.”

It was easy decision for you, even in the early days of your recovery. From the distant and foggy memories of your past, your anguish in what you could recall, you knew that if you could stop someone else from having to feel the loss and pain that comes from losing their spouse and children, you would do so in a heartbeat.

Your husband had been an incredible man, your Everything, you would imagine, going by the ache in your heart when you thought of being without him. His name, his appearance; that was all lost to you when you lost him. His existence in what could be healed of your memories was just a shadow, a shade, the vague impression of the man you loved. You remembered his warmth, his kindness and gentleness, his love and devotion to you and the child you created together.

And your beautiful baby girl... if thoughts of your husband left your heart aching, then thoughts of your daughter left you in unparalleled agony, completely inconsolable. You tried to avoid thinking of her, if you were being honest, tried to leave all what-ifs and could’ve/should’ve/would‘ve’s behind... you had worked with people, mothers, who had lost children before, had seen them tear themselves apart in their grief, taking the blame for something that was in no way their fault; you had seen them destroy their lives with their hoarded guilt and perceived crimes... you couldn’t allow yourself to fall for that, those falsehoods, you had to be alive if you wanted to honour your child and husband’s sacrifice.

“We will make them pay for what they’ve done to us, Doctor, I promise you that. Together, we can get justice for your husband, for your little Missy.”

---

Marcus knew something was wrong as soon as his commlink started transmitting static instead of his teammates’ conversations. The Heroics had been deployed to stop a hoard of rogue security androids that were infected by a virus or something (he couldn’t usually follow the technobabble), which had led them to escape their testing facility and target nearby civilians with their advanced weapons technology.

Evacuating the citizens trapped in the line of fire was the team’s first objective, and once the area was cleared of potential victims, they moved onto the containment and neutralization of the enemy combatants. The Heroics team was decently cohesive; they could work together to ensure the protection of innocent lives while in a firefight, but once the civilians were in the clear and the stakes not so high, the supersized egos of the members emerged with a fiery passion. This particular firefight was no different.

“Hey ‘Legend, bet you a week of incident reports that my count is higher!” Miracle Guy’s voice broke out over the ‘link, as eager to show-boat as ever, from where he was steadily piling up his deactivated attackers.

“I’ll take that action, Miracle, easy. It’ll be like taking candy from a baby!” Crimson Legend wasn’t the type of person who could ignore a bet, especially one issued from Miracle. “You’re probably so behind already that you don’t even stand a chance, ha!”

Of course, they just had to make it a game, keep the superiority contest going; like a single mistake couldn’t cost them a life or a limb. And just to further prove how amazingly mature the rest of Marcus’s team of Adult Superheroes were, they all started in on the bet too.

“If I beat your totals, I want a week off from training!”

“Ha! Like any of you have a chance of winning against me! I want my on-call weekend, off”

“If I win, you’re all my personal slaves for the rest of the day!”

Did Marcus say Adult Superheroes? He meant infants.

And they had started the mission so well, communicating and strategizing, actual teamwork instead of bickering and joking around like children. Hell, even their children didn’t get into as much trouble as their parents could.

“Guys, it’s really not the best time to be playing around. We need to focus on-” He was cut off by the loud static burst of an out-of-range radio. Shit. That’s not good. If his comms unit was fried, he couldn’t direct his teammates, couldn’t keep track of them, couldn’t help them.

They were pretty spread out by now, giving everyone room to use their powers without worrying about another Heroic getting caught in the blast zone. He knew from their most recent locational sound off that Crushing Low and Invisi Girl were working together near the intersection two streets over from him, and if he could make his way over to them, he could figure out what was going on.

Marcus needed to know if it was just his commlink that was out of commission, or if their entire network had gone down. The former scenario was a minor inconvenience, the latter was a major issue. Either he’d have to lead his team by correspondence, or he’d have to worry about them being completely alone in the field, without support from HQ, and without any chance of backup or rescue.

He couldn’t worry about the details now, he had to keep focused on finishing off the seemingly endless wave of androids. Androids with guns. Androids with guns that he was trying to kill with a pair of katanas... Maybe he hadn’t thought his primary weapon for this mission out very well... It was just something that he’d have to come back to later. For now: sword, robot, teammates.

---

They didn’t pay him enough for this. He should have gone into acting like he had planned before his powers manifested. This sort of shit didn’t happen to actors.

Marcus had destroyed all the androids delaying him from reaching his nearest teammates and was finally able to move to their location with relative ease and only minor distraction. He could see Crushing Low laying waste to the few remaining functional robots in the area, and could assume that Invisi Girl was around somewhere, disabling any downed but not dead enemies while protecting ‘Low’s back.

He was proven right when he heard a feminine voice call for him to “hit the deck, Moreno!”.

“Thanks Vis! You two doing alright? What’s your comms sitch?” He stood back up straight, just missing being nailed in the head by a flying metal limb had it not been for her heads-up.

“We’re a-okay! Comms are out though. No known damage to them, no knocks or surges, might be the tech, or it might be the channel. We’ll have to see what Tech-No thinks.” She was still invisible, but Marcus could imagine her animated expressions and movements. She was one of the most... normal... of the Heroics, if normal could ever be used to describe any of the team. Reliable and observant, with a good sense of battle strategy. He greatly appreciated her skills and efficiency in the field; she and Tech-No being the most down-to-earth of the Heroics, most willing to help him keep the peace between the rest of them.

“I’ll watch Low’s back if you can go find Tech. We need to know what’s going on, ASAP. If all the comms are down, and Tech can’t get them back up, I need you to find everyone and tell them to meet back at the robotics facility. Get Miracle and Fast to help if you can. If anyone’s injured, they’re your first priority, okay? Thanks, Vis.”

---

Getting every member of the Heroics team back together took nearly an hour, all coming fresh from the fight but thankfully not too banged up or bruised. They set up a perimeter once enough of the team had arrived to their meeting spot, allowing Tech-No to deep-dive into investigating their communications malfunction.

“It’s the network, not our comms. We’re dealing with a drop either from HQ’s side, or a forced drop here from RFI. But considering the standard distance and all the buildings and stuff around us, a radio frequency jammer wouldn’t be able to block our communications network as far out as we were. We must assume that the problem comes from HQ. which presents further concerns, obviously. I designed most of the technology there myself, so I know exactly how much work it would be to take down the whole system. We need to consider this as part of a bigger plot, and plan accordingly.” Tech-No’s eventual explanation hang heavy in the air, no one willing to break the silence following it... If something had happened to HQ… Their co-workers were there, their friends, their children…

Marcus thought of his daughter and wife. They were both there today. His wife worked in the medical centre, and they brought their daughter there for daycare. If something happened there... shit. If he was panicking about his family already, his teammates were doing the same. He had to head this off. He couldn’t let this get out of control. He took a breath and squared his shoulders. It was time to be Marcus Moreno the leader of the Heroics, not Marcus the husband and father. Lead by example, they’re all counting on you.

“We have no proof that anything is actually wrong, and until we know for sure why we can’t reach them, we need to do our jobs. Finish the mission. We’ve always trusted our people to hold down the fort at home so we can help people out here, and they’ve never let us down before. We are not going to doubt them now, understood? Whatever happened? We know HQ is doing their best to keep our loved ones safe. So, we finish up here, quickly and thoroughly, and then we head back to base. Let’s get moving,” He met his teammates’ eyes, allowed them to witness his own fears, but also his stubborn determination. He wasn’t asking them to ignore or dismiss their worries, but rather, put it into finishing the mission so they could go home sooner.

No one fought him; thankfully just picked their tasks and headed out.

“Tech, we need transport. Now. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done, alright?” Marcus refused to acknowledge the slight tremble in his voice, tried to breathe around the lump in his throat and the dread sinking in his stomach. He desperately stopped himself from thinking about coincidences and probabilities. This was all a fluke, a random string of events that didn’t mean anything more was going on. They’d be able to laugh about it when they got home and saw everything was just as they’d left it. He had to believe that. He didn’t have any other choice.

—-

Transport home turned out to be a military helicopter big enough to fit the whole team, in addition to the fully outfitted squad of soldiers already inside.

“According to the press release your director gave, there was small but powerful group of gifted individuals who invaded Heroics’ Headquarters, intending to either kidnap or kill certain “important personnel” within the building. Didn’t specify much more than that, other than that your organization would be dedicating as much manpower as they could to bring “those who would cause such destruction and terror” to justice. The address was filmed in the parking lot, but there were a lot of emergency responders and vehicle in the background. I’m sorry we can’t tell you anything more, but well, we were scrambled to your location ASAP, barely had time for the news we got...” The staff sergeant sitting across from Marcus briefed the team about what the intel they had on the HQ attack. And that was what it was. An attack. The thing they all feared most.

“Thank you for the information, and for the ride back home; we lost communication in the middle of a battle, with no clue as to why. Now, at least, we have an idea of what we should expect when we arrive.” The mention of “important personnel” jump-started Marcus’s heart into overdrive. That was the code phrase they used when describing their most vulnerable people to the public, non-combatants and injured persons usually; a smokescreen meant to dissuade targeted attacks, and shift attention away from those who couldn’t protect themselves in the case of an emergency. It was also the code that frequently represented their children.

The families of the Heroics were classified as high-risk targets; villains and enemies of their organization didn’t often have the moral decency to leave their loved ones out of the fight. So, to afford as much anonymity and protection possible, any time the team had to reference their partners and children in physical records and documentation, it was under that code phrase.

This attack was centred on their kids.

What kind of monster do you have to be to go after a bunch of kindergarten and primary school children?

Fuck.

The only good news was that there was no mention of the attack being a success.

So, all the Heroics knew for certain was that a group of villains had tried to get to their children, and while obviously causing significant damage to HQ, they had been stopped. Were unsuccessful. The Home Team had saved the day again.

Marcus thanked every deity he could think of for keeping his and his friends’ kids safe.

The rest of the flight home was quiet. Him and teammates finally able to get some rest after all the fighting and panic, and the soldiers conversing just loud enough to be heard over the headsets and hum of the chopper’s motors.

He was pulled back from the edge of unconsciousness he had been drifting along for a while when the pilot gave them their five-minute ETA.

They were home at long last, and everything was going to be just fine.

---

[Next Part]

#we can be heroes #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #we can be heroes fanfiction #reader x marcus moreno #marcus moreno x you #reader insert #hurt/comfort #eventual happy ending #please forgive my bad fight scenes lol

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cheshiresense · 5 years

Note

Could you do KoyoIchi (Swinging Pendulum), please? C: I have fallen in love with this ship ever since you posted those short one-shots (or whatever they are called) a while ago.

Hmm you didn’t include an AU and I’ve already done a KoyoIchi SP AU in the last batch, there’s not much else I can write for that I think. So how about KoyoIchi post-canon AU instead, where Ichigo’s human body gives out after the Quincy War, so he ends up splitting his time between SS and the Human world afterwards.

Edit: omg wtf did i do i went off i’m sorry this ended up semi-background pre-relationship KoyoIchi + like a dozen unrelated headcanons thrown in it’s a mess fml

1. It’s not usually done, he’s technically dead now (but not a Shinigami, not a Quincy, not a Hollow, and not even a Human anymore), but he has a lot of support from a lot of people - Kisuke has no qualms crafting him a gigai that would allow him to draw his blade even without stepping out of it, and Kyouraku basically gives him free run of Soul Society after they hammer out what Ichigo is supposed to do there considering he’s now stronger than the entire Gotei combined but also he’s technically only eighteen years old.

(It would be scarier, Kyouraku thinks, if Ichigo’s moral fibre hadn’t already proven itself superior.)

In the end, they settle it like this - Ichigo attends the Academy part-time for all the lessons Kisuke and Yoruichi and Shinji never bothered hammering into him because it was never important to the war, attends university in the human world, and the rest of his time is his do with as he pleases, whether that’s taking missions directly from Kyouraku, visiting with his friends in various squads and being roped into doing paperwork, or digging up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork (”Please don’t dig up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork for at least a month, Ichigo-kun. One month, you hear? We still haven’t finished cleanup from the last one.”).

Because it’s Ichigo, it works. it’s not like he wasn’t already coming and going from Soul Society when he was still human. The Shinigami have let him get away with far too much already to put restrictions on him now, especially considering he’s saved all their asses twice over now, and that’s not even counting all the trouble in-between. If there are some who complain, well, there are even more who are capable of making sure nothing ever comes of it.

So okay, no rebel faction, no secret invasion, but Ichigo’s not Ichigo without something to work towards, and he’s always wondered why the Shinigami side of his family was slumming it out in Rukongai when they’re supposed to be nobility like Byakuya and Yoruichi. The answer is simple enough - Aizen had mind-whammied everyone after Isshin ran off and fabricated a coup that resulted in assassinations courtesy of the Second Division before the remaining Shibas were ousted from Seireitei overnight.

(It was only too easy for Aizen to make them believe it.Nobody ever questioned whether or not the Shibas could. They had the power. They just never had the ambition, which nobody could understand.)

No way is Ichigo going to take that lying down. So he goes and yells at Kyouraku, who says it’s complicated and would take time, but Ichigo reminds him of the Visored and Kisuke and Yoruichi and Tessai, all let back in in the wake of the Winter War. If they could be pardoned, and rightfully so, why can’t the Shibas too?

“I’m not saying they can’t forever, Ichigo-kun,” Kyouraku says placatingly. “But Central 46 will want… assurances-”

“You mean they’re scared to let my family back in cuz they might still be a little bit pissed from having three-quarters of their members murdered in their beds,” Ichigo summarizes flatly.

Kyouraku sighs and gives up all pretenses of a neutral party. “If you have a better idea…” He waves a hand at the general situation, eyes dark and intent on Ichigo’s face.

Ichigo snorts and straightens up. “Yeah. It’s called ‘being too strong to fuck with’. The old bastards are in session right now, aren’t they? I’ll be right back.”

One day, Kyouraku muses as he watches Ichigo go, this will probably not work, and it’ll come back to bite them all in the ass. Then again, Central 46 has run Soul Society their way or no one’s way for far too long; Yama-jii had always given them too much power. They’d learned nothing from Aizen, so maybe Ichigo is exactly what they deserve, straightforward and running on emotion, but fair, always, and decent in a way that Kyouraku thinks most of their government has forgotten how to be, if they ever knew to begin with.

One day, even Ichigo’s threats won’t make Central 46 back down. But a god doesn’t bow just because someone demands it, no matter how important they think their bloodline or rank or status is. And Ichigo is probably the closest thing they have to a god these days. A god, with plenty of friends to back him up if he needs it.

So Kyouraku leaves him to it - better Ichigo than him, less headaches in the long run - and he isn’t at all surprised when Ichigo sweeps back into his office five hours later, expression grim but triumphant, reiatsu still writhing like a living shadow around him as he informs Kyouraku that his clan will be needing their old estate back.

Kyouraku pushes over the paperwork he’d completed an hour ago, authorizing the full restoration and compensation of the Shiba Clan. Ichigo smiles at him almost fondly, features only slightly tinted with a banked sort of inhuman rage that he carries around almost constantly these days - it’s three steps left of his cousin’s memory, with Hollow glinting in his eyes and the shade of his ancestor draped across his shoulders. He’s gone again in the next moment, off to tell his family the excellent news, and Kyouraku thinks it was probably a good thing Yama-jii died when he did. However reasonable Ichigo still is, he is no longer that boy with the too-forgiving heart who took the insults they served him with all the doormatted self-sacrifice of a storybook hero.

(He came back from the Soul King Palace equal parts pensive and victorious, with old eyes and reiatsu levels they could no longer sense and a terrifying sort of detachment when he looked at them all. But his friends had fallen on him without care, only relief, and the icy distance in Ichigo’s mien had melted. Kyouraku had understood though, in that moment, that Soul Society would stand only so long as Ichigo allows it.

He likes Ichigo, he genuinely does. Jyuushirou had too. That hadn’t stopped his old friend from attempting to leash him, which had almost backfired in the end and literally only hadn’t out of the goodness of Ichigo’s heart, and it doesn’t stop Kyouraku now from catering to Ichigo’s whims. Only time would tell if this approach will work better or worse than Jyuushirou’s law-abiding one, and in the meanwhile, it doesn’t hurt that Ichigo doesn’t actually want anything Kyouraku doesn’t want to fix anyway. Soul Society has been his home for over nine centuries now. He does not want to see it burn. If that means dragging it kicking and screaming into a new era with a boy their world created to fight their wars for them looking over his shoulder, then Kyouraku will do it gladly.)

It takes almost three months for the Shibas to gather again and move back in. They’d scattered, after their exile, all across Rukongai, but Kuukaku is their head, and Ichigo has single-handedly wrested back their birthright for them, and when both of them call, the rest of the clan answers, trickling in in twos and threes and fours, suspicious and wary and not inclined to trust anyone but their own, but they come, and the first thing they do is raise wards around their home strong enough to withstand a siege from the Royal Guard.

“That’s everyone?” Ichigo asks, looking from the civilians to the once-Shinigami to the children. All in all, they barely make thirty total, and over half of them are from their retainer families.

Kuukaku shrugs tiredly at his side. She’s never looked older than she does now. “You know Isshin’s staying in the Human world for your sisters, but other than that, pretty much. Everyone else is dead.” She pauses. “Well, except one, but I doubt he’ll come. Kaien’s wife’s brother,” She adds for Ichigo’s benefit. “Koyonagi Senzou. He was the Kidou Corps Commander before Tessai, demoted to Academy teacher after some mission the higher-ups covered up. He was the only one the Gotei kept on after we were kicked out. Never found out whether he actually wanted to stay or if Central 46 insisted he stay. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. He’s wasted at the Academy, too useful to kill but too dangerous to let out of sight. As far as I know though, he’s still there.”

Ichigo frowns as he digests all this. “And he won’t come by to see you guys?”

Kuukaku shakes her head. “I doubt it. He was never really one of us.”

“Why not?”

Kuukaku shrugs again. “He never wanted to be. I didn’t know him very well, Ichigo, but he loved exactly one person, and she was more or less killed under Kaien’s watch. It wasn’t Nii-san’s fault of course, but she was sent out on a mission given to her by the Thirteenth Division lieutenant, and she never came back. He attended her funeral. That was the last time any of us saw him, although our Shinigami members reported glimpses of him in and around the Academy over the years.”

Ichigo hums. Kuukaku gives him an arch look and then snorts. “Shall I prepare a room for him anyway when I start renovations?”

Ichigo grins at her. “That’d be perfect, Kuukaku, thanks.”

2. Of course Senzou has heard of Kurosaki Ichigo. You’d have to be living under a rock in a cave in a different dimension to not have heard of Soul Society’s God-Slaying Saviour.

And of course he’s a Shiba. That lot always was more trouble than they were worth, too powerful for their own good, and too reckless or too confident or too stupid - Senzou has never really figured out which - to hide it from the world or at least play it down to keep the world from turning on them because of it. No subtlety at all. And look where it got them in the end.

In the aftermath of the Quincy War, he hears of the Shibas’ return to the city, and he can feel the power in the wards they almost immediately erect around their home. For protection, no doubt, because old dogs can learn new tricks after all, but to Senzou, it just looks like a very pretty cage. Why they - or the Visored for that matter - came back to serve the very people who betrayed them in some of the worst ways possible is beyond him.

Not that it makes much of a difference to Senzou. He’d ignored them for decades before their exile; no doubt, he’ll happily ignore them for decades more. They’re related only through an unfortunate marriage, and considering both parties are long dead now, what little obligation he had to them likewise expired years ago.

But, he thinks, as he watches an increasingly familiar head of orange hair slide into his classroom, someone forgot to give that memo to the Shibas’ newest pride and joy. Even Senzou - with expectations that literally no student has ever met - can admit that Kurosaki Ichigo attending Kidou lessons is a complete waste of time. Senzou spends his days teaching idiots the incantations for each of the ninety-nine standard spells, trying not to scratch his own eyes out when he has to grade their papers, and making sure they don’t blow themselves up when they practice producing them. Even the most advanced of the sixth-years can only manage spells in the fifties range, with a fifty-fifty chance of average-at-best success.

Ichigo memorized all the incantations in the first two weeks he was here. His first essay on the use of forbidden Kidou - instead of a regurgitation of laws citing the illegality of them that everyone else turned in - became a dissertation on their pros and cons, arguing that every case in which they’re used should be thoroughly investigated not only by Central 46 but also by a panel of Shinigami, and why the laws against them should be amended to allow for unexpected circumstances. The brat even had the gall to throw in quotes of interviews he’d conducted, and if it had been anyone else claiming to have received firsthand and eye-witness accounts of forbidden Kidou usage from names like Tsukabishi Tessai and Hirako Shinji, Senzou would’ve set them on fire for being such a bad liar. He couldn’t even fail the boy for incomplete research because the books he referenced might not be found in the Academy library but they all had Urahara Kisuke stamped on them.

And his practicals? A high level of reiatsu usually means the caster would have a harder time performing Kidou, especially when they’re first starting out, too much power shoved into the lower-level ones, too little control to hold together the higher-level ones.

Not Kurosaki Ichigo. That boy spent the first week putting holes into everything except his targets, went away for a weekend, and then came back with singed eyebrows and bags under his eyes but a resolute set to his jaw and picture-perfect Kidou at his fingertips. He didn’t even need the incantations anymore. And to make him even more of an anomaly, he could perform spells right up into the nineties. In fact, the higher the difficulty and reiatsu output, the better he was with them.

There is nothing the standard Kidou curriculum from any year can teach him. His learning curve is insane, and his essays read like he’s gearing up to go toe to toe with Central 46, never mind an Academy class.

He doesn’t need to be here. Senzou knows it. The other students know it. And Ichigo most certainly knows it too. And with the special allowances granted by the Soutaichou himself, he doesn’t even need permission to skip. The boy’s been given unprecedented free reign to come and go as he pleases, and yet he comes back, week after week after week. He doesn’t even have the decency to sleep through Senzou’s lectures. He’s a flickering candle in the corner of Senzou’s eye, all flame-bright hair and brown-gold-brown eyes and shadows that won’t stop moving, and that unwavering attention he pins on Senzou every time makes it damn clear exactly what he’s waiting for.

Shibas. No subtlety whatsoever.

The bell rings. Bags are packed. There’s a scramble for the door.

“Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou calls in bored tones without looking away from sadistically adding an extra assignment to the board. If no one notices, that’s their problem. “Stay behind.”

There are some interested whispers and prying eyes, but one glance from Senzou sends them scurrying away. And then Ichigo is there, sauntering up with his perpetual scowl - not at all like Kaien this one. The two are as charismatic as each other, from what Senzou’s observed. But Kaien had people wrapped around his finger because he had a knack for putting them at ease and making them feel special and making himself both approachable and worth looking up to. Ichigo on the other hand scared a lot of people when he first showed up at the Academy with an armful of books and a gruff disposition that didn’t lend itself to making allies, let alone friends. He wasn’t arrogant, just introverted, but it made him the kind of genius that people resented.

And then Senzou caught him in the hallway one day, looming over a mousy-looking fifth-year student huddled on the ground, and at first, he’d thought Kurosaki was bullying her. Everyone’s golden boy, picking on a shrinking violet of a girl. But then Ichigo had stooped down and gathered up all the books spilled across the floor before offering them back to the girl. The girl had still cowered, but she’d accepted them, and when Ichigo reached out and hauled her to her feet, she’d flinched but hadn’t moved away once she was on her feet again and Ichigo had let her go.

Then Ichigo had told her, quite clearly, “Next time someone can’t keep their hands to themselves, break their fucking wrists. Or kick them in the balls. Or tell them to fuck off. Start a scene so they have to stop. Do something. Don’t just fucking stand there.”

And then he’d stormed off, and the girl - Fujiwara, from the Kyouraku family - had stared after him, all baby-duckling wide eyes. And the next time Senzou had happened across her, it was just in time to see her chuck one of her textbooks at the head of one of her bullies. Said bully had staggered back, and then purpled with anger, already moving forward with fists clenched. Half a second later, he was on the ground and wailing from a broken nose, and Ichigo was standing over him, murder glowing gold in his eyes and black reiatsu streaking his hair and pooling at his feet.

Nobody had touched Fujiwara after that, especially since the girl had taken to following Ichigo around. Ichigo had still scowled like no one’s business, he’d also been seen kicking Fujiwara’s ass in one of the training rooms, they studied together in the library, and they ate together in the courtyard when Ichigo happened to stay for that.

And gradually, other students joined in, tentatively, some nervous, some with hero worship in their eyes, all hopeful. Ichigo never turned any of them away, but one day, he started a debate in the library about laws that would take species outside of Shinigami into consideration that ended with raised voices and enthusiastic opinions that got the whole giggling bunch thrown out, and another day, he suggested a free-for-all game of tag where only Kidou could be used to catch each other which ended with everyone sweaty and gasping and wanting another round, and in calmer in-betweens, he answered when the others finally asked him about what Hueco Mundo was like, what the Material world was like, what Arrancar were like, what Humans were like, and he never lost his temper with them even when he had to explain something more than once.

He was still blunt and borderline rude and not at all like Kaien, like a Shiba, not outgoing or friendly or instantly personable. But the charisma was the same, people couldn’t help but be drawn to him, and it took weeks for Senzou to realize he was just as susceptible to it as Ichigo’s growing circle of friends within the Academy. So susceptible he was literally stalking him everywhere just to see what other chaos he was sowing.

That’s probably why he wants the boy gone so badly. He’d sworn he’d never forgive the Shiba Clan for taking his sister away from him, the only leeway they got was that he wouldn’t actively go after them either because Miyako wouldn’t want him to, and it wasn’t as if it was difficult to keep such a vow. He’d never liked the Shibas anyway. When they’d been slaughtered and cast out, and no assassins had shown up at his door in the aftermath, all he’d thought was good riddance.

But Kurosaki Ichigo…

Under any other circumstances, Senzou would be thrilled. Here is a student who challenged the world around him and brought a storm to the Academy.

But this isn’t any other circumstances, and as Ichigo stops in front of his desk, a beast glinting behind his eyes and a dead king’s inheritance pulsing in the shadow splashed at his feet, Senzou meets his gaze and slices a mocking smile in his direction.

“Kurosaki-chan,” He starts, smirk widening when Ichigo’s eyebrows twitch. “The Academy’s star part-time pupil. What exactly are you still doing in my class?”

Ichigo shrugs. “I signed up for it, your lectures aren’t boring, and I’m trying to figure you out.”

Senzou feels his smile grow fixed. “And how is that going for you?”

Ichigo scruffs a hand through his hair, pauses briefly to frown tug at the shoulder-length strands like he wants a haircut, and then shrugs again. “You’re the one following me around all the time, what do you think?”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Let me make one thing very clear, Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou finally says. For once, he doesn’t feel like weaving his usual mind games. “I don’t know what your clan has told you, but I have no desire to play happy families with them. I know you Shibas tend to be all about bringing family together, but I am not one of you.” His lip curls. “Do not push this issue any further than you have. Am I understood?”

Ichigo cocks his head, something animal in the way he watches Senzou now. “Kuukaku agreed to reserve a room for you at the compound if you ever want it, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not here for that.”

Senzou’s eyes narrow. “Then what are you here for?” He gives the boy a sardonic look and cuts him off preemptively. “Besides class.”

Ichigo grins, quicksilver bright, and something in Senzou recoils with surprise.

“I don’t really have a plan,” The boy tells him. “But I’m getting my family settled back in, and making sure nobody can fuck with them ever again.” He aims another considering look at Senzou. “If you don’t wanna be all buddy-buddy with them, that’s fine. It’s not any of my business if you wanna hammer your shit out with them or not. But you were connected to them even if you didn’t like it, and that doesn’t change just because that connection’s gone. So I guess what I wanted to figure out was whether or not someone’s fucking with you too.”

Senzou opens his mouth, then closes it when nothing comes out. How embarrassing. He settles for a derisive smile that feels a touch too brittle on his face. “I don’t need your protection, God-Slayer.”

Ichigo immediately makes a face. “Don’t call me that. And I didn’t say you did. But when I start something, I like to see it through, so I thought I’d check just to be sure.”

Senzou scoffs with disbelief. “Then why didn’t you just ask?”

Ichigo rolls his eyes like he thinks Senzou’s being dumb on purpose, which is a new experience for Senzou. Usually he’s the one rolling his eyes.

“Well you didn’t want me to, did you?” Ichigo says, looking exasperated now. “You were curious about me, and all the stalking was recon or whatever.” He levels a thoughtful look on Senzou before snorting with something like amusement. “You are the type. But yeah, anyway, now you know. If you need help, the offer’s open indefinitely. But I’ll stop coming to class if you don’t want me here.”

He trails off, arching an eyebrow in question. When Senzou doesn’t reply, the boy shrugs once more, adjusts the strap of his bag, and turns to leave.

Senzou… Well, he’s pretty much been on the back foot this entire conversation, hasn’t he? There’s something about Ichigo that just… throws him off. It’s frustrating. Unnerving.

And yet… Ichigo didn’t push. Kaien would’ve pushed. The rest of his family would’ve pushed. It’s what Shibas do when they want something - push and push until they get what they want, a single-minded persistence hidden under their signature cheerful geniality that makes the rest of the world believe them to be the nicest clan in all of Soul Society.

Miyako had said no, the first time Kaien had asked to court her. But he’d asked again and again, until she’d said yes, and she’d been happy to, Senzou had made certain of that, she’d been perfectly willing, had found a good man in Kaien and been glad she’d finally given him a chance.

But she’d said no first, and Kaien had pushed, and it just… rubbed Senzou the wrong way. Because once upon a time, Shinigami had plucked them out from Rukongai, dusted them off and provided the training and shuffled them into the military, all expenses paid, but no had never been an option, and that had become all the more true after Miyako became such a public, vulnerable figure, not only Third Seat of the Thirteenth but also wife of a clan head.

When Central 46 had come knocking, interested in Senzou’s prodigal skills with Kidou, they hadn’t even needed to drop Miyako’s name for Senzou to know that saying no then wasn’t an option either. He’d been pushed into their service, and it had taken Miyako’s death for Central 46 to finally leave him alone, solely because he had no one else for them to hold over his head.

It’s not the Shibas’ fault, not really. It’s been long enough that Senzou can admit that, if only to himself. Miyako’s choices were her own, and even if she hadn’t married him, Central 46 probably would’ve found another way to get to him through her. But Senzou has always been petty and vindictive at heart, and he’ll blame the Shibas for the rest of his life, because at the end of the day, they’re just like all the other nobles in this place. What they want, they’ll push until they get, because privilege is in their blood.

So Senzou flounders when Ichigo doesn’t push his advantage. The boy is already halfway to the door, and somehow, Senzou is certain, if he doesn’t say anything now, Ichigo won’t come back. It’s so wildly different from what he’d expected, so unexpectedly not-like-a-Shiba, that he has to fumble for something to say for an unforgivably long moment. Him, fumble. This whole conversation has been one unexpected surprise after another, and later, Senzou will blame the shock for his next decision.

“Wait.”

Ichigo stops and turns back. He doesn’t look surprised, but neither does he look triumphant or even just smug.

Senzou suppresses a grimace. “The school has nothing left to teach you about Kidou.”

Ichigo nods in unabashed agreement.

Senzou snorts softly. “But I do. And I guarantee it won’t bore you.”

Ichigo blinks, and a crooked smile slowly curls at his lips. It doesn’t erase his frown, but it softens his brow and makes his features look less harsh. “You sure you wanna teach me?”

Senzou scoffs and pulls out his chair. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He gives himself a mental shake and drags a grin back onto his face, sharp enough to cut. “Sit your ass down so we can figure out a schedule, Ichi-chan.”

Ichigo instantly loses the smile and glowers like a thundercloud. Senzou all but basks in the familiarity of it, inwardly relieved at being back on steadier ground.

“Don’t call me that, asshole!”

He probably shouldn’t have offered, should’ve just let him go and good riddance. But Senzou hasn’t been taken so off-guard so quickly in a long time, and it had been frustrating and unnerving but underneath both…

There is a storm waiting on the wings of Seireitei, and Kurosaki Ichigo is the one holding its reins.

And Senzou. Senzou is just curious enough to want to see what that storm will bring.

3. “Did your hair grow three inches over the weekend?” Senzou asks the moment Ichigo walks into one of their weekly lessons.

Ichigo dumps his bag in a chair and scowls at him. His hair has been swept up into a bun, which is certainly a feat considering the last time Senzou saw him three days ago, it had only brushed his shoulders.

“This body is seriously shit at regulating itself,” Ichigo grumbles. “I didn’t have time to go to the barber’s, and Kuukaku threatened to shave me bald if I tried to chop it off with my Zanpakutou again.”

Senzou squints at him. “You realize that’s not normal.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “I didn’t have a knife on me, and it was getting in the way, okay? Don’t judge.”

This time, it’s Senzou’s turn to roll his eyes. “That wasn’t what I meant, Ichi-chan. Shinigami bodies don’t suddenly grow several inches of hair overnight.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ichigo mutters before shaking his head, and Senzou watches as black reiatsu crackles lazily across his shoulders. “I’m just kinda weird. Excess reiatsu plus funky biology apparently means random hair growth and dye jobs.” He shrugs. “Kisuke’s still figuring it out.”

Senzou hums noncommittally. “Urahara Kisuke. Your… mentor?”

Ichigo pulls out the books Senzou had given him last week, along with a notebook and the latest essay Senzou had assigned him. All are tagged with multiple sticky notes.

“Kind of?” Ichigo sounds like he isn’t all too sure himself and even less concerned about it. “He’s… Kisuke.”

Senzou eyes him curiously. “You don’t care that he basically engineered half your life then?”

Ichigo stills. Then he glances up with Hollow-gold eyes, and Senzou smiles and meets them without flinching.

“Why would you say that?” Ichigo asks in even tones, but the office suddenly seems darker.

Senzou shrugs carelessly. “Urahara has a bit of a reputation for… working outside the box. It’s not just me who thinks it, Ichi-chan. There aren’t many who knew him who wouldn’t take one look at you and guess that he had something to do with your existence.” He pauses. “Although admittedly, I suppose the worst of these rumours come from the ones who want him back most. Central 46 doesn’t benefit half as much without his skills in assassination and technological development. It must’ve been a blow to their egos when Urahara refused their invitation to come back after the Winter War. They might be hoping enough unease over any other projects he’s bound to be working on would be enough to make him come back under their protection-”

“That’s not called protection,” Ichigo growls, and Senzou stops, words withering on his tongue.

There is something about the black abyss of Ichigo’s unblinking stare that makes some base instinct in even Senzou want to back away, run, throw himself at this eldritch entity’s feet and beg for mercy. He squashes the urge and smiles like monsters don’t exist.

Ichigo blinks. The darkness in his eyes recede, and the room clears again, bright with the sunshine pouring in through the open window. A shadow passes over his face, and when he opens his mouth to speak, Senzou catches a glimpse of fangs.

“Well that sucks,” The boy remarks succinctly like the silhouette on the far wall behind him doesn’t outline a grinning mouth with too many teeth. “It’s none of their business anyway. Kisuke prefers his shop. He’s his own boss there, and he likes it that way. Central 46 will just have to deal with Kurotsuchi.”

He flips open his notebook and shoves his essay over. “Now come on, we only have an hour today, and you said you’d go over this bit with me.”

Senzou nods and drops the subject. But three weeks later, he laughs when whispers tell of five Central 46 members retiring from their seats, replaced by one Shiba elder, one Shihouin, one Kuchiki, and two seated officers from the Gotei, one of which has served long enough that she doesn’t mind semi-retiring, and the other who prefers more time at a desk job over constant fieldwork. Both have roots that trace back to the slums of Rukongai. Twelve days after that, the Soutaichou announces a new official position filled by Urahara Kisuke - Human World Liaison - and a team of his choice, effective immediately.

“You don’t waste any time,” is Senzou’s greeting the next time he sees Ichigo after that debacle.

Ichigo, seated on the edge of the Academy roof and surveying the rest of Seireitei (like a ruler looking over his kingdom), waves a dismissive hand that trails solid shadows through the air. “People who’ve never been Shinigami shouldn’t be allowed to judge them. Kyouraku-san agreed.”

“I’m sure he did,” Senzou agrees, fighting near-hysterical glee down to a chuckle as he drops down to sit beside Ichigo.

He wonders if this is what it looks like, for a man to crown himself without even trying while most of the world cheers him on.

He glances to the side, arching an eyebrow when he finds Ichigo watching him. “Yes, Ichi-chan?”

There’s a disappointing lack of irritable twitching this time, but the thoughtful look Ichigo has levelled on him instead is more interesting.

“I have finals starting next week,” Ichigo says abruptly. “So I won’t be coming by the Academy until I’m done.”

Well, less interesting than he’d expected. “I’ll pick up your assignments for you,” Senzou offers, feeling generous. It’s not every day Central 46 takes a beating. He doesn’t care about Aizen, but if there was one thing he did right, it was butchering the judiciary authority on the way out. One group of them anyway.

Ichigo snorts. Rude. “Thanks, but I was thinking, you could join me down there for once instead of me coming up to meet you here. I want to concentrate on my university exams, but I have to eat and stretch my legs sometime. If you want, I could show you around campus. Kisuke can lend you a gigai so you won’t even have to request one from the Twelfth and wait for the acquisition forms to be approved.”

The first thing Senzou wants to say is I can’t. Because he can’t. Central 46 can’t make him do shit anymore, but short of slaughtering his way to the Senkaimon or disappearing into the Rukongai and living out the rest of his life as a fugitive, he can’t leave Seireitei. He doesn’t hate it here so much that he’d prefer either of those options, but the truth of the matter is, this is as much his home as it is his prison.

(A very pretty cage indeed.)

So he can’t, but Ichigo isn’t stupid, he should’ve already figured it out, or guessed, if not from the start after whatever his family told him about Senzou, then in the five months since. Stuck at the Academy because he’s too much of a wild card to go on missions.

Ichigo isn’t stupid, but neither is he cruel, not to those he has no quarrel with - that much Senzou can accept as truth. That he’s bringing this up anyway…

So, “How?” He asks instead, raising his eyebrows when Ichigo actually barks out a laugh. And then his eyes widen when Ichigo twists fingers through the air, and a Garganta springs into existence beside them.

“This can take us there,” Ichigo grins. “And no one will ever even know if you don’t want them to.”

Senzou stares from him to the murky void and back again. “…Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why would you offer?

They’ve known each other for five months, six if you count the one Senzou spent studying him. Most of that time has been spent in private tutoring sessions, and it’s benefitted Senzou as much as it has Ichigo. He technically shouldn’t be teaching Ichigo even half the Kidou Corps secrets he’s already imparted, but Ichigo makes it worth his while - quick on the uptake, a challenge in the sparring ring, and a breath of fresh air from the tedious drudgery of teaching his other students. Occasionally, they even go out for meals, tucked away in a quiet corner of a restaurant or a food stand. And sometimes, Ichigo brings souvenirs back with him from his trips to the Human world - fiction, toys, tech, trinkets the living modern age has that Soul Society does not - and he gifts them not only to his friends amongst the students but also to Senzou these days.

It’s a friendlier relationship than Senzou thought he’d ever have with anyone outside his sister, doubly so for a Shiba. Then again, Ichigo’s barely that, thank the Soul King, even if he was raised by one of the worst examples of that clan.

“Why not?” Ichigo counters, like it isn’t downright unnatural for anyone to do anything for Senzou, mostly because he’d rather stab himself in the face than fall into anybody’s debt. People avoid him when they can because he is cruel, and that’s the way Senzou likes it. He has high standards and little tolerance for things that bore him. Nothing bores him as easily as people do.

Until Ichigo.

“You don’t wanna be stuck here all the time,” Ichigo continues. “And I have an easy way out. So yeah, why not?”

Senzou turns his gaze to the horizion, past the sprawling streets and buildings of Seireitei to the sun setting beyond the wall.

He looks at the Garganta again. When Ichigo doesn’t move to stop him, he reaches over and lets his fingers drift past the mouth of the portal. The void is cool to the touch but not freezing the way he’d half-imagined.

He retrieves his hand. “A campus tour then?” He muses lightly, and Ichigo’s features brighten in response.

Senzou almost sighs. He thinks he might understand now. Ichigo is a little more like a Shiba after all. It’s just that he’s also a little more manipulative than one would expect of him. Senzou had all but told him not to interfere, to play hero for someone else, so Ichigo had backed off. But he’d figured out what Senzou wanted anyway, and his solution was to offer another way out instead.

Persistent, without disrespecting boundaries, and cunning enough to find another answer. In that regard, he’s nothing like his Shinigami relatives, who are always so loud about their intentions.

Charismatic, but… discreetly, almost insidiously so.

Senzou blinks. And then glances sharply at Ichigo again. His eyes look bronze in the light of the sunset, with the heat of his Hollow just beneath it. He has his head propped up against one loose fist, elbow balanced on one knee.

He smiles, almost guileless if not for the possessive resolve in the curve of that expression, and Senzou thinks, unbidden, ah. That’s how he won their devotion.

He gave his friends and family and allies everything they wanted, everything they needed, threw his heart and soul and body into every fight in their defense, shattered himself and rebuilt himself to protect the ones he’d taken under his wing, and so when the time came, how could any of them have done anything less for him?

It had probably not even been something Ichigo had done consciously from the beginning, it was just how he was built, through a quirk of the genetic fun park Urahara had ensured, or perhaps from the numerous near-death experiences life had forced him into. Ichigo probably hadn’t been aware, at first.

But he definitely is now.

Senzou thinks Ichigo is only just starting with him. Senzou’s already been claimed, because - for whatever reason - Ichigo wants him.

It probably says a lot that even this early on, even having already figured it out, Senzou… can’t say he cares enough to protest.

A Shiba in his bones, but leagues more dangerous by far.

4. The Human world is bigger than he remembers. Size-wise, it’s the same. But there’s a lot more in it than he thought, and he isn’t sure if that’s due to the passage of time or because he’d never spent more time than strictly necessary here when he took missions on the material plane back in the day.

Either way, he’s free to explore it now, even if just a small part of it for the time being. The campus of Ichigo’s school is large and sprawling, and with Urahara’s gigai and fake IDs and some Human money (he trades them for a box of seal traps even Tsukabishi Tessai wouldn’t know of because they’re Senzou’s own creation, and Urahara smiles like he understands and doesn’t object), it’s easy enough to come and go once Ichigo drops him off.

“You bought an apartment?” Senzou asks the first time Ichigo shows him the place and lets him poke around inside. It’s recognizably a living space, but it’s foreign to him all the same, with a generous open floor plan and wide windows, marble countertops in the kitchen and dark wooden cabinets and a bathroom constructed of polished chrome and gleaming tile.

“Kisuke bought me an apartment,” Ichigo corrects, flopping down on the couch where he has papers and books spread all over the coffee table and floor. His hair’s shorter today, barely past his shoulders, tipped black and hanging loose. Senzou is vaguely curious about what the boy’s classmates think of it.

“I wanted my own place,” Ichigo explains. “But Kisuke took one look at the rent I could afford and practically frog-marched me here instead. Then he had Yoruichi-san steal all my stuff and move it here, and then he said I might as well just take it because staying would be less work than moving all my stuff back.” He snorts, but it’s a fond sound. “The asshole. It’s not like I’d want to turn this place down. But it’s a bit much, so I try to help him with his research projects whenever I can in exchange.”

Senzou digests this with briefly raised eyebrows but says nothing. Urahara probably considers this another desperate form of making amends, and Ichigo probably knows it too. He probably wouldn’t have accepted otherwise.

“There’s a guest bedroom,” Ichigo calls after him as Senzou wanders down the hall to investigate exactly that. “Rukia’s stayed overnight, Renji too, and a few of my human friends have as well, but I always clean the place after they leave, so if you wanna stay tonight, feel free.”

That’s all the conversation between them for the rest of the day. Ichigo already showed him the campus the day before, and after tossing him a key to the apartment, Senzou is free to wander off and explore on his own.

Two weeks of regular visits to the Human world, and he still feels a little awkward in one of the shirts and jeans and sweater that that Quincy friend of Ichigo’s had shoved on him before whirlwinding back out again, apparently neck-deep in the middle of his own finals project.

“It’s Ishida, he makes clothes for everyone,” was Ichigo’s unhelpful clarification. “You help by walking around and looking good in them.”

So Senzou does, and part of him feels like he should stand out more, but nobody gives him more than a passing glance at most. Well, some do, but he recognizes shallow attraction well enough to ignore it.

In the end, he finds himself spending the most time in the libraries and lecture halls, slipping into the back of a classroom and listening to lessons he actually has to pay attention to to even understand some of what the professor is talking about. The science lectures mostly go over his head, and he’s never been interested in that field anyway so he doesn’t bother putting much effort into following them. It’s the literature courses he likes the most. There aren’t any at the Academy, not like this, and there are so many more books in so many more languages and genres than Senzou ever thought there existed in the world.

Soul Society suddenly seems so small in comparison.

It’s always an exercise in patience every time he has to return to Seireitei to teach now. After the first two weeks of almost daily trips to the Human world, he orders - on a whim - the students from his upper-year classes to split into groups before assigning each of them a project due at the end of the term on the theoretical creation of three new Kidou spells.

Group projects are not a thing at the Academy. Senzou wonders why.

He tells them that at least two of the research sources have to be from outside the Academy, and he smirks when he follows Fujiwara Asuka to the First Division compound to speak with her cousin, and then the Eighth to speak with her cousin’s former lieutenant, and then even braving the Fourth, straight-backed and stiff with anxiety but marching in anyway with her nervous group members in tow until she manages to wrangle fifteen minutes of time from a few of the healers willing to answer her questions about Kaidou.

Even here, Ichigo’s influence flourishes.

Outside the classroom, Senzou begins collecting copies of Human books. He half-bribes, half-blackmails the librarian into setting aside a section for him, and then he begins his own project of filling it.

“You’ve been busy,” Ichigo remarks when he staggers in from his last exam and collapses into a chair just as Senzou finishes setting the table for dinner.

Senzou arches an eyebrow, smirking when Ichigo just rolls his eyes.

“People tell me things,” Ichigo informs him, barely waiting for Senzou to sit down before falling onto the meal like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

“You would make a poor king if people didn’t,” Senzou murmurs, smiling serenely when Ichigo’s eyes flick up to meet his. It’s not as intimidating when his cheeks are bulging like a chipmunk’s.

Actually, Ichigo in the Human world just seems less… overwhelming in general. It isn’t as if he’s any less powerful. This particular gigai doesn’t restrict him in any way. But there’s a relaxed quality in him here that Senzou’s observed in the past three weeks that’s always absent when he’s the rawest form of himself up in Seireitei.

“Soul Society needs to change,” Ichigo says at last, instead of denying anything. “If that means kicking it in the ass until it stops fucking up the lives it’s supposed to be looking after, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Yes, and Senzou has no doubt he’ll succeed. The majority of those in power have no desire to stop Ichigo. Those who do aren’t strong enough. And Ichigo wants it. He wants it with a conviction Senzou has never seen in anyone, almost obsessive in its unfaltering desire… like the abyssal hunger of a Hollow and the eternal grudge of a Quincy and the timeless pride of a Shinigami all rolled into one.

Ichigo wants it, and he’ll get what he wants.

The Soul King knows the universe owes him that much, and even if it didn’t, Senzou doubts it would make a single bit of difference to their God-Slayer.

He lifts his mug in a toast. “Then I look forward to your endeavours. You’ll need to watch out for Central 46′s spies though. I’m sure they won’t take this lying down.”

Ichigo cocks an eyebrow. “Is that an offer to keep your ear to the ground for me?”

Senzou attempts an innocent face, which works about as well as he expects when Ichigo snorts. “A mere Academy teacher like me probably can’t help much, but…” He thinks of the seals he’d planted throughout the entire Central 46 compound every time he’d had to report in, slowly but surely sneaking invisible ears into the heart of Soul Society’s government. “I might hear things now and then. I’ll pass it on if it happens to be interesting.”

Ichigo grins and tips his own mug at Senzou like they aren’t talking treason.

5. “So.”

Senzou almost rolls his eyes. The Shibas’ commitment to their theatrics clearly hasn’t changed.

“Kuukaku-chan,” He says instead as he strides into his office and smothers the urge to draw his blade on the woman sitting on his desk like she’s posing for Most Dramatic. He smiles instead, hiding the teeth of it behind his lips. “What a pleasure.”

Kuukaku grins back without any of the same courtesy. Of course. “None at all, I’m sure, so I’ll get straight to the point. What are you doing with Ichigo?”

Senzou does roll his eyes this time. “You’ll have to be more specific. As of yesterday, he’s teaching me how to drive a car.” His lip curls. “It’s a mode of transportation Humans have developed.”

“I know what a car is,” Kuukaku snaps, finally hopping down from the desk to prowl across the room. “Why is he teaching you? What do you want with him?”

Senzou pauses halfway through setting down a stack of essays to be marked. “…If I said vengeance on the Shiba Clan once I’ve convinced him to side with me, would that be about what you were expecting?”

Kuukaku glares and crosses her arms. “Ichigo would never.”

Senzou smirks. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? You’ve wasted a trip.”

He brushes past her to flip through the paperwork on his desk. End-of-term reports are coming up, and that’s always a waste of his time, so the sooner he gets them done the better.

“I know you resent us for what happened to Miyako,” Kuukaku says from behind him, and Senzou wonders if he can just walk out. Probably, but there’s no way this woman won’t cause a scene. “But Ichigo wasn’t part of any of that.”

Senzou heaves a sigh and turns back around. “Kuukaku-chan, I thought we just established that we both know that using Ichigo against your family won’t work.”

“No,” Kuukaku nods. “But you could hurt him to get back at us.”

They eye each other for a long moment, not quite hostile but far from amicable.

“…My vengeance for Miyako was not lifting a finger when your clan was all but massacred,” Senzou finally says, ignoring the way Kuukaku’s expression pinches. “And so long as contact with you and yours is kept at an absolute minimum in the future, I don’t care anymore. Besides, there is no point in targeting Ichigo to get to you.” He sneers. “He’s a Shiba, but it would be an insult to consider him one of you.”

Kuukaku bristles but doesn’t explode in anger the way some of her even more hot-tempered relatives would. She stares at him instead, and when she doesn’t speak right away, Senzou goes back to organizing the contents of his desk.

“Say I believe that,” Kuukaku finally says, ignoring Senzou’s scoff. “Maybe you are hanging out with Ichigo with no ulterior motives. The gods know he makes that easy. But if that’s what you’re doing, there’s no way you won’t be seeing more of the rest of us eventually. He wasn’t raised the way a Shiba should’ve been, with none of our traditions and only a fraction of the family he should’ve had. That’s on us. But he’s still family, and so long as he doesn’t say no, we’re going to be a part of his life. You’re going to have to accept that if you plan on marrying in.”

The shelf closes with a resounding thud under his hand, and judging by the give, he’s probably cracked the back of it too. He barely notices as his gaze snaps back up to stare incredulously at his uninvited visitor. “I beg your pardon?”

Kuukaku smiles thinly, and this time she looks more amused than anything else. “Something to consider. But you’re more like Miyako than most people would think.” Her arms drop to her sides as she turns abruptly towards the window. “That’s all I had to say. You’re a smart man, Senzou. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you fuck up.”

And before Senzou can demand an explanation or - more likely - set her on fire for cracking such an abysmal joke, she’s gone, disappearing through the window in a rush of Shunpo.

Senzou stares after her, then at the books he’d carried in earlier, then at the paperwork he’s putting off for the weekend because he has dinner with Ichigo tonight… just as he does almost every night nowadays.

He runs a hand over his face.

Shibas.

6. He says nothing. He’s self-aware enough to know (now, damn Kuukaku) that there’s something there, a spark, a connection, a pull Senzou has never felt towards anyone. He isn’t going to call it love or whatever Kuukaku thinks is happening because it isn’t. He finds Ichigo fascinating and endlessly entertaining, and anyone willing to face down Central 46 is worthy of some admiration in Senzou’s opinion. That Ichigo plans on turning the whole system upside-down and actually has the power to achieve it only raises Senzou’s esteem for him.

But he says nothing because Ichigo knows all this already. The day Senzou’s first instinct, when an assassin sent by Central 46 attempts to take Ichigo’s head, is to slit the hapless woman’s throat - even though he knows full well that she wouldn’t have come anywhere near to succeeding - is the moment Ichigo gets irrefutable proof that Koyonagi Senzou is willing to kill for him.

Ichigo doesn’t gloat of course, he isn’t the type. Senzou half-expects it anyway, breath caught in his lungs for a moment with something disgracefully close to fear twisting in his gut as he turns to check Ichigo’s reaction.

But Ichigo only wrinkles his nose and toes the fresh corpse at his feet, and then he glances at the blood splatter dotting Senzou’s shirt and offers to get him a new one.

He also reaches out to touch the hilt of Senzou’s Zanpakutou before nodding once, deliberately, solemnly, the weight of it as much a thanks as it is an acknowledgement.

And that was that. Senzou relaxes, doesn’t bat an eye when shadows surge up and swallow the body whole, and goes to change into another shirt. The incident passes, and it will be longer still before Ichigo’s enemies realize they probably should’ve tried harder to get rid of Senzou years ago. They’d thought themselves safe enough though: they would never earn Senzou’s allegiance, but at the same time, nobody - including Senzou - ever thought anybody else would earn it either.

But the point is, Ichigo knows. Senzou has no need to speak of it, and both of them are content with that. If something more comes of it down the road, Senzou doesn’t think he’d fight it. He lost this battle a good while ago, and he never even cared.

In the meantime though, he spies on Central 46 and enjoys what time he can spare in the Human world and continues reconstructing Seireitei’s education system brick by stubborn brick. There’s a kingdom to conquer and a god Senzou has pledged himself to, and for now, that is enough.

#headcanon meme: answered #bleach #koyoichi #koyonagi senzou #kurosaki ichigo #kyouraku shunsui #shiba kuukaku #post canon au #headcanon #hi brain #wtaf happened

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justjessame · 3 years

Text

Doomed From the Start: Gone

Gone. Jenny was gone. She’d been shot and killed along with two of James’ men. As he helped deliver her remains - REMAINS, as if a seven year old could be nothing more than a body - I could see that he had shut down. Completely and totally he wasn’t there, not making eye contact with me, barely speaking to anyone, not even my father.

The fear that had gnawed at my insides from the moment I’d found her bed empty and the note left behind - that had only grown once he’d stolen that kiss from me - growing when I realized that I feared not only for her, but now for him as well, it was replaced with grief and pain.

Her tiny warm body would never bounce into my bed and demand that I wake up so she could show me the sunrise because THIS one was so very different from the one she’d shown me the day before. Or how she wouldn’t come up behind me as I made tea and ask the WHYs. “Why do I like THIS tea and not THAT tea?” Then once I gave her my reasoning, she’d come back with, “Why do we drink tea? How did we discover that tea could be drunk at all?” and on and on. If anyone had ever told me I would miss her endless questions, I would have shaken my head and told them they were insane, yet I’d give anything for one more round.

One of James’ remaining men, his name escaped me until he reminded me - “Michael, Miss,” nodding through my tears, he held out a soft, slightly dirty floppy-eared rabbit and my heart tore further apart. “Thought you might want this,” his hands looked huge holding it, yet I couldn’t reach out for it. So terrified to touch it, was it in her arms when they - was she holding it when she was - “Miss?” His voice sounded tinny and far off, and then the darkness rose up and I was gone.

When I woke up I was in my bedroom, fully clothed and on my bed. I lay staring at the ceiling and allowed the silence to seep into my pores, pretending that any moment now Jenny would come rushing in with a quiet giggle and pounce on my bed - Hoppy held loosely in one arm as she snuggled against my side and three questions already loaded and ready to be unleashed.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was unexpected, but so quiet that it didn’t actually startle me. “Veronica, I am so sorry.” He sounded as though he was being tortured and it cut into me a little deeper, the pain of losing Jenny and now hearing how it must have felt from his side.

Sighing, I moved so I could sit up with my back against my headboard. It was still light out, barely, so I could see him leaning against the wall by the window - looking far less confident and more tired than he had when we first met. His head was down, eyes on the floor and my heart broke a little more making me wonder just how many cracks one heart could bear.

“Tell me,” my own voice was even quieter than his and yet I knew he heard me. “Please?” His shoulders sank lower still, that stiff soldier bearing of his dropping further.

He did, he told me - how they found Jenny, he and his men. How they’d had her safely within their ranks and were closing in on the border, so close that he could see it. And how the sound of gunfire rang out, killing two of his men and Jenny with a precision and - that part was more difficult to hear than I cared to admit, but I listened to him, trying to push aside the pain of losing her with the knowledge that it had happened so fast that she hadn’t felt it. That she was gone before her body hit the ground. Before Hoppy dropped beside her.

“The soldiers that took her?” His head lifted and I saw the slight shake. “Oh.” Worse still, a plot within a plot. “Doomed from the start.”

“I failed -” I shook my head, but he wouldn’t stop. “I FAILED, Veronica.”

“No, James,” my tears wouldn’t stop, but I couldn’t let him go on. “How do you count this as a failure when you had only half the information?” Twisting so my feet were dangling close to the floor, I sighed. “If she’d simply been taken for ransom, as we’d thought, she’d be right here now safe and sound.” I could almost hear her laughter, see her smile. “You cannot take on the failure of a mission that was doomed by some plot that God knows who ran from -” my eyes shut as I slid out of my bed to stand. “Please don’t take on this burden.”

I could hear him push off from the wall, and then the heat of his body closed in on mine. “Burden?” Fingertips were under my chin as his thumb was brushing away the tears from under my eye. “Your little sister is dead, Veronica. Two of my men are dead.” Opening my eyes, I was confronted by his chest, but tilting my head a bit and I found his face - pinched and worn - his blue eyes shadowed in the slowly dying daylight. “Under my command, under my lead - How do I not take on this burden?”

“You’re human,” he was staring at me as though he wanted nothing more than for me to give him a liferaft. Something to cling to, something to latch onto and give him hope. “Human and while you can see so much, you cannot always see every evil thought that other humans conceive.” Cupping his face between my own hands, I tried to smooth out the tension. “Why can’t you allow yourself that much?”

“Because,” the break that came at the end of the word nearly broke me apart. “If I allow myself that weakness, then what else creeps in behind it?”

Studying his face in the dimness, the shadows making his sharp angles sharper - I wanted nothing more than for a few hours to forget. To forget walking into Jenny’s room and finding it empty, her covers pushed back and the bed cool of her warmth. To forget seeing the letter, hateful with the words that told of her capture and ransom, propped against her pillow - where her head should have been - No, her head should have been against my shoulder. She would have woken ME up, ready to show me the glory of another day. I wanted to forget that she would NEVER wake me up again. I wanted to forget the bickering that came when I raised the alarm, finding my father and her mother having breakfast - how they couldn’t agree on WHO should be notified, on why she’d been taken - to forget that I’d insisted on calling for professionals, on calling for HIM.

“You should hate me,” why would he imagine I would lay the blame on him? “I failed you.”

“No,” shaking his insistence off, holding his face firm between my hands, I refused to allow him to pull away. “Was it your gun, your bullet that killed her?” He started to speak, but I wouldn’t let him. “You didn’t kill her, James Conrad. And you did bring her home.”

“She’s dead.” He looked as though he knew her, that he knew how bright she shined and how - “It’s so new to you, you haven’t processed it yet.”

“Kiss me,” he shook his head. “You stole a kiss before you left, I want another.” He wanted to argue, but I wasn’t willing to - “Please?” What little strength my voice had held was gone, and it came out as half plea half sob - and that did it. It gave way what little resolve he had left, and the inches that separated our faces were gone - our lips, mine damp and salty with tears, met.

The kiss he’d taken before he left to find my little sister was sweet and filled with promise. This kiss was desperate and hungry - we both needed distraction from the thoughts that were threatening to drown us. When it morphed from a kiss to something more, from our lips and tongues, to hands searching for a way to touch more skin than just that of our faces - neither one objected.

As clothing fell into piles on the floor, darkness overtook the daylight, and my bare skin was being traced by the calloused skin of his fingertips. My lips were making a map of the dips and curves of his muscles. And then my back met the silky sheets of my bed, but before I could feel the loss of his body heat, there he was hovering over me - my hands reaching for him, our mouths meeting even as our bodies joined.

Some might think that I was being selfish - my little sister had just been murdered, two men died beside her as they were trying to rescue her - and I wrapped myself in a lustful bubble with the Captain who was in charge of the failed mission. Bubbles are temporary, no matter how deeply I wished I could have stayed in the one I had with James. It felt like we were locked together for minutes, perhaps hours - maybe days? Yet, it was probably the former. He held me as I fell asleep, arms tight around me as if I might drift away or as though I were a mirage in the desert.

If I were being selfish, I had my comeuppance when I woke up - alone. He left no note, no acknowledgement that he’d ever been there - other than the hint of the natural cologne that I would always associate with him. He came to Jenny’s memorial services, but he kept a careful and proper distance from me. Any outsider would assume that we were nothing more than a grieving family member and the Captain of the British Special Forces who sadly lost men in the same failed mission that cost the life of my sister.

Father stayed on at the embassy. He insisted that his service was lifelong, but he also asked if I would rather return “home”.

“I’ve lived here since I was 14,” staring at him as if he’d lost his mind, he sighed. “Are you honestly insinuating that London is more ‘home’ than here?”

“Veronica,” he sat next to me and took one of my hands in both of his, a rare gesture of affection that startled us both. “Perhaps I was hasty in insisting that you stay with me after your mother died.” I felt certain that my eyebrows were in danger of full retreat at this point. He’d gone to battle with my grandmother, “hasty” wasn’t quite the word I’d use. “I’m not sure this is the right place for a young woman of your status to -”

“I have to stay,” pulling my hand free, I stood up and moved to the window. If I left, who would help teach the children of the next round of embassy officials? “Not only have I grown up here, but I have a job too.”

“They could hire someone else,” he was preparing for an argument, but I wasn’t in the mood. “Consider it, please?” Agreeing to at least consider the idea, he got up and kissed my temple, another rare gesture. “I miss her too, you know?”

“I know,” the house was too quiet without her. He left me alone, with my thoughts and with the silence. Neither were very comforting.

#Captain James Conrad/original character #captain james conrad #kong skull island #alternate universe #before the movie #mention of smut #angst #Mention of character Death

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

Disaster Bisexuals ~ R.C. (Part 3)(Final)

A/n: I wanted to finish this trilogy before I started on my asks. Those will be posted next!

Word Count: 4600+

Masterlist

They went out to the woods, everyone once again following Y/n's lead. He found it too odd not to make a comment. "Fun fact I'm never in charge."

"Surprising," Randall responded. "You seem to be really good at it."

Y/n snorted in amusement. "I'm never letting you forget that." He stopped and then turned to face them. "This is far enough."

He looked at the others expectantly before removing his own shirt when no one did anything. They all smiled at each other before following suit and soon they were all transformed. They were back, baby. Nothing was going to stop them this time. They returned, rushing at the sound of magic, to Alyssa of all people being in the Den, over an unconscious Order member.

Jack looked to Y/n, who nodded. If he wanted to kill her... Somehow Y/n understood that Jack knew. He went inside and Y/n kept the others at bay.

"I can help you."

A pause and they watched Jack turn back into a human. Alyssa seemed overcome with relief... and also the image of Jack completely naked in front of her. Even in the tension, it was amusing to Y/n. "You could help a monster?"

That took Y/n's amusement away. Why did Jack still listen to Alyssa more than he listened to his life long best friend? What the fuck? "You're not monsters," Alyssa assured. "You're the Knights of Saint Christopher. You're the Champions."

"And we were friends," Jack added after a very long time.

"Yes." Y/n almost rolled his eyes, if he hadn't been a wolf instead of a human. The others were getting agitated. They weren't as in control as Y/n was. "Close friends." She struggled on the words. "Which is why I can help you. Your memories. Your real memories. They'd been suppressed. I can return them, but... you need to be human."

"What do you think guys?" Jack asked.

They turned back into humans, grabbing the robes they had abandoned when they'd gotten dressed before. When Alyssa whispered, "Oh- thank god," it wasn't clear if she was relieved by the slight less revealing attire of the others, or the fact that they hadn't killed her.

Y/n wasn’t quite done with that option yet though.

"Help us?" Y/n stepped forward and even Jack stepped back. Whatever anger Gad eased before had returned now. "Help us?” He wasn’t quite snapping, but he was a thin tether. The relief of seeing his friends again had twisted in the fact that he had lost them in the first place. “Where were you six months ago when we needed help? When we helped YOU and those people you defend so much? When you all turned on us after we put our necks on the line for you and wiped out memories and THEN ransacked our home?” She flinched as Y/n took another step forward. “Where was Alyssa when I was alone and couldn’t trust anyone? When my life long best friend looked at me like he’d never even met me in his entire life? When my boyfriend-“ His throat closed and her was shaking, his hands curled into fists. He looked away from her. It wasn’t anger that drove him now but pain, and she wasn’t enough of his friend to see him hurt like this.

Alyssa swallowed the lump in her throat. “Y/n I can’t imagine what you went through, I-“

“No,” Y/n agreed, looking back. He had relaxed but the ache had not eased. “I didn’t remember for one week. Just one. One week, one whole week, and I couldn’t even-“ he cut off again, growling at the way his throat clogged. Finally being able to talk about it was hard. He had trained himself for the last six months to be silent and do closed off and push people away and pull himself along inch by inch - by himself. This pain was apart of him and everyone in the room could see it. Y/n scoffed after a second, shaking his head. “You know what, forget me. Where were you when Gabriella walked Jack around like he was a trophy - just to get to you? When she gaslight him with actual brainwash and changed how he acted and dressed and the color of his hair and controlled how he spoke to her and treated her and interacted with people? What about about when he needed you?”

Alyssa had nothing to say. She just looked at Y/n, desperately avoiding the looks from the others. Y/n knew that Lilith and Randall would be murderous, and Hamish wouldn’t be far behind. Jack... goddamnit he didn’t deserve to hear this. “I’m sorry,” was all Alyssa had to offer.

Y/n scoffed, shaking his head. “You know what I’m not going to waste energy on you. It’s not my place to demand answers for you on the behalf of other people.” He looked at Jack. “I’m sorry.” Jack just shook his head, easing the worry. Dismissing it even. He seemed almost supportive of Y/n’s pushing and prodding and demanding. Maybe he had wanted her to answer... but that wasn’t for Y/n to be here for. So he turned back to her, focusing on her watery eyes that made him feel not even a lick of guilt. "You have one chance," Y/n warned. "I'm keeping you alive to restore their memories. Betray us and I promise you, I won't just get away but I will come back with a murderous rage - do you understand me? I will take out every one of you and your precious cultist demon spawn." He stepped close to her, his voice low and even and very, very dangerous. He wanted for her to nod before he walked away.

It was natural for him to end up downstairs, in the basement. He had ended up here so many times... now it was painful. He looked at the empty room and he realized for the first time that this place had become a safe haven. Where he'd come when everything had gotten bleak and terrible. Now it had been gutted and everything that had shaped this home... it was gone. He sighed, squatting on the floor to organize his thoughts.

Breathe. Calm down. Think. Control yourself. You’ll figure it out. You’ll be okay.

It was only a minute later when he realized it had gotten quiet. Too quiet. Far, far too quiet. He wasn’t sure when exactly it had gone so silent, but it made him anxious so he made his way upstairs with a terrible feeling sinking into his gut, chased by a simmering rage and dark resolve. She better not have.

Empty. Everyone was gone. There was a dusting of white powder everywhere.

Y/n felt his eyes glow silver as his rage rose. His hands turned to claws and a growl rose up from his throat. He was going to end them. Every. Single. Fucking. One. He would kill her. He would kill everyone.

"Whoa whoa there tiger." Y/n jumped, his eyes finding Randall. When their gazes met, Y/n almost collapsed in relief. There was recognition. “Randall?"

He smiled, chuckling weakly. "Hey, Y/n." There was life in his eyes. Clear knowing. Every inch of anger and desperation and agony melted away in relief and elation so vibrant and colorful that Y/n almost broke into a sob right then and there.

"Y/n." He turned at his name to see Jack. Blonde now, but with that same knowing look. Y/n covered his mouth with both hands. Jack smiled before opening his arms and Y/n ran into them, hugging him tightly.

He saw Hamish and hugged him as well, going to Lilith right after. "You guys are all back?" They nodded before Y/n turned to Randall, begging.

Randall moved closer, raising his hand to touch Y/n's face. "Hey there." The words were a repeat of the greeting that had been interrupted before and Y/n completely melted.

"Hi," he whispered.

"I know you guys need some time to figure all... THAT out," Hamish sighed. "But we have work to do."

Randall and Y/n looked away from each other. "Right." Everyone was looking at him and he shifted. "You guys have your memories back don't you?” He cleared his throat. “What's going on Hamish?" He was uncertain, trying to collect himself as he shifted the leadership back where it usually was.

They seemed to realize what they were doing. Hamish cleared his throat and stepped forward. Y/n finally let out a breath. Thank god. He didn’t like being in charge. He was too similar to Midnight these days; the both of them were grunt workers. No leader. Barely a second in command if needed. And they were okay with that. It allowed them to sit back and react. To be there when needed and keep an eye on everything. They could feel without the pressure of keeping it together; fall apart without everyone noticing immediately. They could see things and jump in if needed.

For a second, Y/n had anything. He had his friends again. His family. He had his position in the group back, and their dynamic back. He had his knowledge and stood as someone to bounce ideas off of or get details from.

The only thing he didn’t have was time.

It seemed the world was really against giving Y/n and Randall the time to sit down and talk to each other about their feelings. Give them time even to just express those said feelings. Every time they were alone it usually left them both exhausted or severely stressed out. They barely had time to catch each other up on everything they'd missed in the time apart. They spent a lot of time cuddling. Somewhat because Randall had really REALLY missed Y/n... but it was mostly that Y/n was readjusting to having other people being in the Den again. He was startled by the others constantly and got very anxious when they were suddenly gone for long amounts of time, even if it was just for class.

Randall seemed to be helping though. They talked about what it had been like. They talked about how much Randall hadn't realized Y/n had been helping with his classes and how much he treasured real friends before he'd forgotten all of them and had only the one fake friend.

Aside from Y/n adjusting to having his friends back, Randall was also adjusting to having his feelings back. The little habits he used to have that had made their friendship and flirtiness so natural had gone away. Now everything seemed a little awkward and forced. Everything needed time to get used to. They hadn't realize how many habits Randall had that allowed him to touch Y/n until Randall manifested them and Y/n jumped at the contact, having been so anxious about proximity up to this point. When Randall would put his arm around Y/n's shoulders, or touch his shoulder or grab his arm or wrist or hand for whatever reason. Randall touched Y/n a lot, and each time it was an iffy stop and go for Randall, who simultaneously had but didn't have these habits. The things he used to do so naturally belonged to a person he hadn't known had existed for six months, and he had unlearned them. But that person was still there and to THAT Randall, they were still natural and habit.

In Summary: trying to figure a relationship out between Randall, who was only just realizing how central Y\n was to his everyday life, and Y/n, who had forged a lifestyle that kept people far away from him - who had gotten anxious about proximity while his friends had been gone, amidst all the other drama and complications to life that came with their current Werewolf-versus-Warlock situation.... It was near impossible, and there was next to no time to do it.

Then Jack suggested a Magic Heist. Which was a great idea until they walked into the fear hallway.

Y/n had expected his greatest fear to be his friends dying. A year ago, that would have been the worst thing ever. When Jack had died it had carved him in half. It had destroyed him. The loneliness of losing someone that meant so much to him was unbearable. Not to mention the, you know, actually losing someone who meant so much to you part.

Recently though, Y/n had been introduced to something far, far worse. So it wasn't bloody bodies or creepy dolls or sinister Orders or death itself that Y\n confronted in that hallway. It was a school hallway, empty except for his friends and those of the Order that had been sent to babysit them. Instead, this time, Alyssa was next to Jack instead of Gabrielle. He felt his heart squeeze. "Guys!" He called.

They all looked at him. Randall glared. "A werewolf."

Y/n felt his heart begin to race. “We're all werewolves!" Y/n was hysteric.

Each one of his friends pulled a mask up. The last thing he saw were those distant, empty looks. The one he had seen aimed at him for six months. Looks that lacked any recognition or care. Looks that came with each and every memory of him being taken from their minds. Looks that meant the Order had won. They were all part of the wrong side and Y/n was never going to get them back again. Alyssa raised a hand and cast a spell and somehow, Y/n knew it was going to kill him. Those who had once been like family to him, now didn't even flinch as he died.

To say that he wasn't willing to talk about it when everyone went around the table to share their nightmares was an understatement. He was shocked that everyone else agreed. Even Lilith. It had almost made Y/n share too, but when it came to his turn all he did was shake his head.

"Come on," Randall encourages. "We're bonding. This is bonding. Even Lilith shared." Y/n only looked away.

Jack spoke up in Y/n defense. "If he doesn't want to share he doesn't have to."

Randall let it go then, but Y/n should have known he'd come back to it when they were alone. Which happened to be soon after they all got into a fight about whether or not to summon a demon of all things, leaving Randall and Y/n on the opposing side of the other three. When the pair left, opting out of the single dumbest idea any of them had ever had, Randall didn't wait long before he asked, "So... your fear in the Hallway of Doom."

Y/n sighed. He didn't have the energy to fight Randall on this. "You guys didn't remember me. But this time, you were part of the Order. You didn't remember being Knights at all and-" He looked away, his jaw working. It sounded stupid when he said it out loud. "You let the Order kill me. You didn't even care. You didn't know or recognize me. That look... like I'm transparent. Like you're looking through me, not at me." He crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke, his nails digging into his skin.

Randall grabbed Y/n's shoulder, just hard enough that they both pulled to a stop. Y/n went to ask what was wrong but Randall grabbed his face next, pulling him into a kiss. Y/n melted instantly, all other thoughts slipping out of his head quickly. When they parted, Randall rested his head against Y/n's. "You know, watching all of my friends fall for people in the Order... I'm kind of glad you came along. Jack and Alyssa. Lilith and Nicole. It's so easy to be with you compared to everything else. You're always on my side. You make sense. You don't play sides. You're consistent." He leaned away but his hands didn't leave, his thumb instead caressing Y/n's jaw. It was a weirdly intimate gesture. One Y/n didn't think Randall capable of. How could this boy be such a goofy idiot one second and then so tender and compassionate and capable of such deep emotion the next? Not even his fears were simple or straight forward. They were complex and layered. It was weird to see such a young boy be like this. Young man. "I can't imagine what you wen through when we were gone, Y/n. Just from what you've told me, and the tole it's taken on you... I mean you used to love being close to people. You used to crave being touched." He laughed. "You know when we first met you we thought you and Jack were dating because of how touchy you two were." Y/n laughed too. "Now..." He sighed and both of their smiles faded. "I'm sorry that you didn't. It made everything so much easier, but I can't imagine what it would have been like to remember."

Y/n pulled away. He was quiet for a second, turning his back to Randall. "You know when I was a kid, I read books a lot. I was this super smart kid and all my grades were perfect and school was so easy for me. I used to get in trouble for reading in class." He took a deep breath. "Do you know why I read so much?" He turned in time to see Randall shake his head in a no. "I was incredibly lonely. I was really bad at emotions. At expressing myself. I had a hard time telling someone how I felt with a small amount of words and my vocabulary was limited so I didn't even try. I rarely spoke to anyone. I had no friends. All my teachers only liked me because I had such good grades and it made them feel a little less like a failure in a society who treats teachers like shit." He shook his head. "I'm rambling. My point is, kids used to say I was sociopathic. Call me Pinocchio, because I didn't act like a normal boy. Like a real boy." He swallowed, trying to get rid of the huge lump in his throat. Randall was speechless. "My parents were really harsh about it. They told me I wasn't normal. They tried to medicate me for depression or anxiety and took me to doctors to get psychoanalyzed when that didn't work. Everyone told them that I was just bad at expressing emotions. That's all. Just awkward and a little weird. Not in a bad way, just in a Not Totally Normal way." He grew quiet.

"I'm so sorry," Randall whispered.

Y/n chuckled humorously. "Look at me going on a rant again. Talking off your ear. It actually wasn't that bad. I didn't like people that much anyway because they each made me feel emotions and I couldn't make sense of them so..." He shrugged. "Throw in being gay and it just got worse from there. I always had reading. I had peace and quiet and magical worlds where I was normal and no one cared about me and we were all friends and experienced everything together. Those characters and I understood each other on a level that didn't need words because I could read their emotions explicitly. The author told me how they felt. Exactly how they felt, and why, even if the character themself didn't know. Even with crazy shit going on things were simple and straight forward. It was easy to understand something, finally." Y/n smiled a little. "Then I met Jack. He taught me what was great about friendship. Showed me how people could be. Should be. Without him, I would have probably never made it."

Randall's eyebrows came together in confusion only a second before his eyes widen. Part in understanding and part in horror. "Y/n..."

"I didn't tell you this for your pity," Y/n dismissed. "I told you this because trust when I say this Randall, I lost my memories of Jack for a week. Well, eight days." Y/n shook his head. "It took me eight days to get so depressed that my grades dropped to nearly failing. Eight days for everyone to get so worried for me that the person who was supposed to watch me to see if remembered anything became the person who was making sure I didn't do something stupid. Not because she cared, or because the Order cared, but because Alyssa cared and she asked her to." Y/n scoffed. "I thought I didn't even have a babysitter, but Alyssa mentioned it a few days ago and I pried the truth from her. When I got my memory back I was so rocked and upset that I lashed out. I pushed my "friend" away and didn't trust anyone. I was too scared that I'd lose my memory again. Too scared that I wouldn't get someone to babysit me the second time. Too scared that you guys would never come back, and that even if you did I wouldn't be there to know it. So I pushed everyone away. Emotionally and physically. People still don't come close to me and I've been sent to the Dean twice about it. They backed off when they saw we were all together again. I even got a letter from the Dean telling me how happy he was that I seemed to be doing a lot better. My grades were perfect again in time for them to have not affected my usual perfect score. I mean it took all the remaining time with you guys gone to do it, but I managed it and my failing dip didn't go on my record." He shrugged. "I just thought you ought to know."

Without even hesitating, Randall swallowed Y/n in a hug. Y/n tensed at first but then smiled softly and hugged Randall back. He let his nose dip into the space between Randall's neck and shoulder, burying his face in Randall's chest. He smelled good. "You know you've come a long way since you were a kid. You told me all of that better than I could have told anyone. I don't mind that it was long winded and drawn out. I'm very glad you told me." Y/n sighed in relief, melting into Randall finally. They were quiet for a while, just holding each other. "I won't leave again. I won't forget you. I promise, and I don't make promises lightly."

Y/n smiled and let himself believe Randall, even though neither could be 100% sure of such a thing, even if Randall really did mean to keep the promise. "Okay."

Just because they finally made time to talk didn't mean they had things figured out. There was still the whole end of the world thing that was heading straight for them and that kind of came before cuddling and making out and... other things.

Well, the end of the world DID come before other things. That is, until they had no fear and therefore no reason to fear the end of the world. Which, of course, meant that after Hamish, Randall, and Y/n got their fear taken by Mr. Big Mean Bad Demon Guy... Randall and Y/n weren't distracted by that pesky little end of the world thing anymore.

When Jack and Lilith came looking for help, what they got was Hamish with a broken arm and Randall and Y/n making out on the couch. Needless to say, they left empty handed.

"I think I'm in love with you," Y/n whispered after he pulled away. "Isn't that so weird?"

Randall considered that. "Totally weird." He kissed Y/n's neck then paused, sitting back. "You know, I think I'm in love with you too." They looked at each other for a second before busting up laughing. "That's totally dumb, right?"

"Super," Y/n agreed. "We're barely early twenties it probably won't last."

Randall nodded. "But we can enjoy it while its here." He smirked and suddenly Y/n was on his back, laying on the couch. Y/n caught his breath as Randall hovered over him. Randall's head dipped, lips attaching to Y/n's neck this time. Y/n's eyes went wide and he jerked into Randall. It was a very nice feeling as Randall alternated between kissing and softly biting. Randall's teeth lightly ran from Y/n's ear to the hollow of his throat and he shivered. "Do you like this?"

"You care?" Y/n scoffed.

Randall gave Y/n a look. "I may not have any fear Y/n but it doesn't mean I was joking when I said I love you. I want you to enjoy what I'm doing because if you don't feel good then what's the point?"

Y/n smirked. "You sap."

Randall laughed. "You don't have a hidden romantic side too then?"

"I do," Y/n conceded after a second. "I don't want you to be cute when you're leaving me hickies Randall." He propped himself up on his elbows. "I want you to fuck me."

Randall's eyes dilated. It never occurred to either of them that they were currently in public or that Hamish was in the room. Thankfully only Randall's shirt came off before they both froze, bodies filling with horror as they realized what they were doing and where they were. It hit them very suddenly and they looked at each other, eyes teeming with-

With fear.

They realized that at the same time too. Randall stood up, looking at Hamish who had been playing with a puppet but had thrown it right around the time Y/n and Randall had stopped the... activity they were on the path of. "You're afraid," Randall vocalized.

"You're shirtless," Hamish countered. His face twisted with disgust then. "And I was in the room. Damn it you guys! I'll never be able to forget the sight of you two making out. UGH!" He left then and Y/n grabbed a pillow to hide his face. He was mortified of what he'd said.

Did his romantic side come from a fear of some sort? He knew he liked being romantic. And since when was he so easily capable of getting what he was feeling across without going on a twenty minute rant? Well, he knew he had a fear of being misunderstood and saying the wrong thing. Maybe that was it. Was he overthinking so much that it messed up how he talked to people? How much anxiety did he have that being without it changed his personality so much?

"Um. Y/n?"

"Yeah?"

Randall sat down and Y/n lowered the pillow just enough so he was able to peek at Randall from over it. Randall was smirking. "You're on my shirt." Y/n stood from the couch, slamming Randall with the pillow before running out of the room. His heart was racing. He thought what would have happened if they hadn't had their fear for just a few moments longer... Y/n wasn't ready for that yet. Not going all the way at least. He'd never been like this with someone before. He might be in college but he was a virgin and that meant he had no fucking idea what he was doing with himself. Oh god. He suddenly had so much fear coursing through his veins, like his body was trying to make up the time he hadn't had any.

He didn't make it far before Randall caught up with him. "Y/n I'm sorry." He went to catch Y/n's shoulder but Y/n moved out of his reach. Randall's hand fell and with it, his expression. "I..."

Y/n swallowed. "It's not your fault. I- I've never-" Y/n felt his face begin to burn.

"Oh." Randall's eyes shot wide. "Oh!" He moved closer, still giving Y/n space and not touching him but coming within a distance that what he said next sounded almost intimate. "That's okay. After what you've told me, I'm glad you're with me at all with how stupid I am. And seriously I'm a total idiot. Lilith tells me constantly. A lot of people do actually."

Y/n chuckled, but his eyes were watering. "How do you like me? I'm so weird. My emotions don't even work."

Randall got a very serious look on his face then. "Y/n, I-" He hesitated around his next words and Y/n froze, remembering everything they'd said to each other

"You don't have to-" Y/n began.

Randall interrupted him by grabbing his face. His eyes bore into Y/n's. Neither could look away. "I love you." There was a long silence as Y/n tried to remember how to breathe. "Did you know I used to dream about you when I didn't have my memories? When I saw you in the Den that day I almost lost my whole mind. You were literally the guy of my dreams. And then it got even better because you were so kind and patient. You were willing to answer any of our questions and understood when we needed you to say or not say something, even if we couldn't tell you when to or not to say something. You made everything make sense and brought things back to me that I really cherished. I don't know what we would have done without you there honestly."

"Probably figured it out a little slower," Y/n reasoned.

Randall rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to appreciate you, shut up." Y/n blushed but did as Randall asked. "Forgetting you was like having to hold my breath for six months, except the pain just got worse, I never died. And seeing you again... Remembering you. Kissing you. Being able to hold you and see you and recognize you and make sense of all the weird memories and feelings I sort of had but shouldn't." He shook his head. "And since then, I've only had time to realize that my life is better with you in it and losing you is one of the worst things that could happen to me. One of the worst things that did happen to me." He chuckled. "Your tendency to ramble is contagious it seems."

"I get it," Y/n whispered. "Not having you... you forgetting me was worse than Jack forgetting me, and I thought that was the most nightmarish thing that could ever happen to me. I-" Y/n chuckled, feeling a sudden head rush and lightness. "I-"

The door busted open and Randall and Y/n looked over, Randall's hands dropping. Not because they were embarrassed for being caught like they might have been before today, but because the doors slamming open was startling and also because Jack was standing there and he looked distraught. "Jack?" Randall prompted.

He looked at them with watery eyes. It hit Y/n instantly, all the good feelings draining from his body so quickly he felt lightheaded. "Jack, where's Lilith?" The only the answer they got was a brokenhearted look from Jack, but it was enough. Randall reached over and gripped onto Y/n as he tilted, as if he'd lost his footing. Y/n barely caught him, even if he didn't know how he was standing himself.

Just in time for Randall and Y/n to finally figure it out, they had something else to worry about.

Lilith was dead.

#randall carpio #randall carpio imagine #the order #the knights of saint christopher #the order of the hermedic blue rose #the knights of saint christopher x reader #the knights of saint christopher imagine #randall carpio x reader #male reader #the order x reader #the order imagine

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maxdark158 · 5 years

Text

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

hi. it’s been a while. let’s get into the actual chapter then.

oooOOOooo

Marinette wasn’t used to houses as large as the Wayne Manor – that much was clear. Her eyes were wide when she first took everything in. He didn’t take her on a tour, he knew Todd and Drake were somewhere in the mansion and he didn’t want her meeting them until she was ready.

Her jaw did drop when Alfred showed her their kitchen though. Her expression almost made him regret his decision to not give her a tour. The faces she would have possibly made looking at the grand halls and rooms or would have been- not worth Todd and Drake.

Hence the almost.

Marinette seemed to adjust to her surroundings quickly enough. Perhaps the food Alfred managed to make quickly helped with that. She seemed delighted by the taste.

“My parents don’t make these often,” she mumbled, munching on her blondie. “White chocolate is usually used for decoration.”

“I’m glad the daughter of bakers can enjoy my desserts,” Alfred seemed to like her, which was good. He wouldn’t do anything to keep the other two away from her though. Alfred did little to mitigate possible damage done by siblings.

He left after that, though Marinette kept asking if he wanted to eat with them. Damian wasn’t sure why Alfred was so hell-bent on leaving them alone. Unlike Marinette, he didn’t buy that, “I already ate,” bullshit.

However his glare didn’t exactly work through walls, so he instead talked to his an- Marinette.

They talked about a lot of things. What she was planning to do with the fabrics she bought while they were out, she had designs based off Gotham’s superheroes, based off him and his family too but they aren’t as important, then how much free time she would have given where her field trip would be taking her over the course of the rest of her days here, he took a mental note of locations and times she mentioned so he could possibly spend more ti- spring her from spending time with that awful class, which led into what she liked about Gotham so far and what she wanted to see before leaving, which he also made note of. For other reasons- not those reasons though, just other reasons in general. To make sure they were safe.

She seemed happy.

It was a good look for her.

Wait, what the fu-

“Can you help me clean up?” she asked, startling Damian out of his own mental interrogation. He’ll return to it later, it seems.

“Sure,” he picked up his empty plate. Alfred happened to choose that moment to return and help clean up, so the mother fucker was clearly fucking listening in. Bitch.

They cleaned for a few wordless moments before Marinette spoke again.

“Do your brothers know we’re here?” she asked Damian while she took the glasses to the kitchen. Damian trailed after her with the plates.

“No, and we can leave before they find out if we’re quick about it,” maybe she changed her mind about meeting them. He wouldn’t blame her.

“What if I’d like to meet them?” she teased. “They sound fun!”

Fucking fuck fuck.

“Alright Angel, if you’re sure,” he pursed his lips, “but if you want to leave for any reason, just tell me.”

“Master Damian, I do believe that Miss Marinette is capable of taking care of herself,” Alfred almost seemed to be chiding him.

This just in, Alfred is fucking dead to him now.

He began putting the plates in the dishwasher, because unlike fucking Todd, he doesn’t just drop them in the fucking sink and walk away like a heathen.

“What he said, Damian,” Marinette giggled. “I’ll be fine. They can’t be worse than the Riddler or Hawkmoth, and I survived those two.”

Is that how she approaches every situation? Well, it can’t be worse than the fucking Butterfly Terrorist in Paris or the Green Guy with Deadly Riddles! He realized he was gripping the plate in his hands too hard and forced himself to relax.

Then he saw who was behind hi- Marinette.

“Todd,” he didn’t growl, which is a point to him. Todd fucking smirked too, and Damian didn’t murder him. Another point.

“Demon Spawn! I thought you went somewhere else!” He glanced down at Marinette. “Timmy! The Riddler girl is here!”

Of fucking course Drake wanted to talk to Marinette. Of fucking course.

Drake ran in like a fucking lunatic. He is a fucking lunatic but that doesn’t mean he has to run like one. He can run like a normal person just fucking fine. Damian heard him break something on his way to the kitchen, adding to the needlessness of his theatrics. He fought back a sigh and put the last plate away.

“Holy sh-

“Language,” Alfred tutted. Like he fucking cared about fucking language after the Swear Jar Incident.

“You’re actually here! I didn’t think Damian would let you near us!” Damian almost grabbed the dirty plate out of the dishwasher and smashed it against Drake’s head. “I’m Tim Drake-Wayne!”

“Jason Todd-Wayne,” Damian’s least favorite brother said.

No, that wasn’t fair to Drake. They were both his least favorite family member.

Marinette seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her eyes widened briefly, like she had come to a realization. Damian mentally screamed when he found the expression cute. She isn’t cute she’s just his friend who is attractive but he isn’t attracted to her he can just acknowledge the fucking fact-

Then, she smiled. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng! A pleasure to meet you!”

Drake practically fell over himself trying to get the words out. “So you solved The Riddler’s riddle, right?” Tim asked. “Like, knew what the answer was?”

Marinette nodded. “He probably googled it. A toddler could do better.”

Damian frowned. Did… did she not consider the Riddler a serious villain? Did she not realize that his riddles were meant to be difficult…

Did she not realize how impressive it was that she solved it, especially since it was a play on a language that isn’t her first?

Drake lit up at her nonchalance, likely excited that she considered an intelligent adversary easy to defeat. Fuck that shit.

“Drake, don’t harass her with your questions!” he snapped. Because what the fuck. She was his friend first anyway she doesn’t have to be interrogated.

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“She isn’t uncomfortable-”

“You’re asking about her first and only encounter with a villain of course she is-”

“Are you even looking at her she isn’t-”

“So fucking what if she doesn’t look uncomfortable? You can’t demand the details of something like that for no good god damn reason-”

“You know I have a good reason, you motherfucking asshole-”

“Sure!” he heard Marinette practically shout and-

Wait what?

“What?” Damian asked, interrupting Tim during their argument.

Marinette turned toward him while Todd slung an arm over her shoulder like they were best fucking friends or something. No they fuck they’re not. “Freckles here just agreed to spar with me!”

What.

She turned her head to look at him. “Freckles?”

What.

“It’s your nickname. ’Cause you’ve got Freckles.”

What the fuck is this fuckery?

Damian heard Drake stifle a laugh behind him. The bitch. Damian opened his mouth to argue or say something or stop this because what the fuck Todd but Drake beat him to it.

“Do you seriously want to duel her because she beat The Riddler?” Drake scoffed.

Damian wasn’t sure what he expected but that was disappointing regardless. What the fuck, Drake? Argue better than that!

“You wanted to question her because she solved his riddles!” Todd continued to try and defend the indefensible. “Plus-”

“Todd,” Damian hissed, because they needed to have a talk about not hurting hi- Marinette, it seemed.

“Yeah demon spawn?” Todd sounded fucking bored of all things.

Damian opened his mouth to start his argument when he was interrupted again – was it shit on Damian day today? – wait Marinette is talking-

“-I agreed to it,” she told him, her own beautiful eyes meeting his. “Plus, akuma are typically much larger than me anyway. It’s not like I’m going to break from someone as small as Jason!”

Damian blinked. His brothers laughed but he blinked and tensed a bit. What the hell does she mean akuma are typically bigger than- what are they? He assumed it was some type of gang and while it isn’t that hard to be bigger than his an- Marinette are they all as large as Jason? Larger? How many akuma are there? How much bigger are they? He forced his body to relax. He needed to focus on the now, research this akuma gang headed by a butterfly loving lunatic later.

“We have a gym down the hall,” Drake helpfully said. Todd was still giggling because he thought it was so fucking funny haha bitch. Damian continued to glare. It wouldn’t technically be murder if Todd were killed by a glare, right? Damian didn’t even have powers, so clearly it couldn’t have been him…

“Do you know your IQ?” Tim asked. Like a fucking creep with no concept of personal space or privacy Drake what the ever-loving fuck.

His a- Marinette was rightfully confused by the invasive question but instead of telling Drake to fuck off she was nicer and answered his question. “No, I don’t think I ever took the test.”

Damian was walking ahead of them with Todd to make sure he didn’t pull any funny business but seriously, bitch, mind your own business- “Do you have any measurement of your problem-solving skills?”

Damian didn’t murder anymore. Especially his brothers. Especially especially in front of his- an ang- Marinette. He was tense though, Todd gave him a *look* and he just glared more.

“My parents don’t like playing strategy games with me,” she seemed to be reminiscing something.

“You always win?” Drake asked. She nodded.

“Hey Timmy, stop holding Freckles up!” Todd called from where they were at the gym door.

“Alright, alright,” Drake grumbled. The other two sped up and soon entered the gym.

It was standard, smaller than the one he grew up using. The sparring mat was in the center, which was what Damian assumed Todd planned to use for this unnecessary battle.

Todd took off his jacket and took a position on the mat. Hi- Marinette followed suit, setting her purse near his jacket. When she took a position, it was off slightly.

Todd lunged, Marinette ducked his punch and maneuvered behind him, driving an elbow into his back. He dodged, barely, and went for a swipe under her feet.

She tripped, but he saw her maneuvering her fall so she wasn’t hurt.

Seems she wanted to end this early too.

“Well, that was fu-”

“You can do better than that!” Drake cried. “There’s no way that’s it.”

“Drake,” Damian grumbled. He should just let her lose if she wants! He knows Jason isn’t really trying either, none of them would really try on a civilian. He was still wor- god damn it.

Todd seemed to pause as if his brain needed to process the information like a slow computer. “Wait, you weren’t really trying?”

“I-” she hesitated, “What makes you think that wasn’t my best?”

“The Riddler is bad at combat,” Drake leaned against the wall acting like a fucking know it all bitch and seriously? “But he’s better than that. Why are you holding back?”

“She can hold back if she wants to,” Damian would really appreciate someone not being an idiot here.

“Jason wanted to see how good she is,” Drake retorted. “If she’s holding back, it’s like purposefully failing a test or losing a game!”

“No, it’s not!” Marinette responded hotly, almost… competitive?

“Why are you not trying to win, Freckles?” Todd asked. “This is sort of a competition.”

Damian saw something shift in his Angel’s demeanor… Seems she’s competitive too. He filed that information away.

She got up and assumed a better position. “Fine then,” she huffed.

Todd got into position and this time, she attacked first.

She went for a fake punch to the throat. He grabbed her fist to block and she grabbed onto his other hand to swing onto his shoulders. He attempted to pull her down with the hand she grabbed but she managed to remove it from his grip and grab it with her own.

“What the hell!”

Todd’s wrists were held by her. He didn’t shake her grip off him, though he could if he were trying. He was attempted to buck her off his shoulders, but Marinette’s legs wrapped around him too tight to be shaken off. As he struggled to get her to let go, she began to swing around to make him lose balance.

He didn’t have his arms to stabilize him or catch his fall. His bucking made his lack of balance worse, and with several curses, he began falling backward. Marinette let go of his trapped hands mid-fall flipped off him, somehow dodging his head.

When Todd landed face-first on the mat looking incredibly pathetic even if he could still win, she was there quick as lightning, pinning his arms behind him and his legs with her weight.

“I win,” she grinned.

Todd responded with more muffled curses.

She got off of him and helped him up. After he was standing, she glanced at him and Drake.

Drake’s mouth was open, being overdramatic again for no fucking reason, really it was cool to see a civilian do that though but that doesn’t mean Drake gets to be impressed!

“Holy hell what are they teaching you in Paris?” Todd grumbled, pupping his back.

Marinette bit her lip. “I’m sorry-”

“Why?” Todd asked. “I asked for you to fight me. This was fun even if I got a mouthful of matt.”

“Do you work out?” Drake asked, again with the questions!

“Not regularly,” she responded. “But my parents own a bakery and the flour bags are heavy. Plus, sometimes someone orders a huge cake, and those can get heavy too!”

Drake nodded, likely filing that information away to write some fucking biography on her because she’s oh so impressive for a civilian- she *is* but Drake can fucking leave her alone!

Todd spoke up because since he died he had a death wish. “Hey Demon Spawn, are you rebooting or something?”

Damian scrambled for an excuse, as I’m mentally murdering you and Drake is typically an unacceptable answer. No it wasn’t but he wouldn’t say that around his Ang- Marinette. “Apologies. I’m a bit surprised, as I didn’t see Marinette actually fight The Riddler, I didn’t know what she was capable of.”

“What?” Marinette seemed to snap out of a train of thought suddenly, “I’m sorry I zoned out.”

“You-“ are really impressive.

“He said you did a good job, Freckles,” Todd fucking interrupted him how dare he. But also thank you- god, this was all because of that fucking worry wasn’t it? Fucking god damn worry was poisoning his every thought and action.

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled.

“Okay since that’s over now,” Drake rubbed his hands together. “Marinette-”

“Please tell me none of you died,” Father walked in, surveying the room. “Huh. I’m surprised there isn’t any blood. Alfred told me you were sparring.”

“Jason decided to spar Damian’s girl-”

“Marinette,” Damian interrupted, she’s not his *girl* what the fuck, she’s his friend- “My friend Marinette.”

Bruce Wayne sees her for the first time and Marinette has to shake off the feeling of being analyzed.

“She’s the girl that punched Riddler in the throat,” Drake says unhelpfully.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” she goes to shake his hand. He takes it and shakes. Good, his father isn’t dead to him then. Alfred still has to make up for some shit.

“She won against Todd by the way,” Damian decided to add. Father stiffened a bit. They both knew Todd was going easy on her, but it was still interesting.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Father says. “Alfred wanted to invite you to stay for dinner.”

Since when was that a fucking thing? And *why*? What was Alfred’s fucking angle? Damian’s eyes narrowed. If he thought this would make it up to hi- shit she’s talking.

“-ze, but I must be returned to my class by five-thirty pm.”

“Uh, it’s four forty now,” Todd points out, “How long is the drive, Freckles?”

Marinette pales. “I should probably head back-”

“I’ll go with you,” Damian didn’t want to be around his brothers, he knew they’d find something to tease him about regarding Marinette. “Alfred can drive us if that is alright with you.” He was still the most trusted driver even if he’s currently dead to him right now.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” she smiled and Damian felt… oddly warm. Was he sick?. She turned to his brothers and father, “It was wonderful to meet you guys!”

“I’ll win the sparring match next time, Freckles,” Todd told her. Was he going to hold back less or something? He better fucking not.

Drake said something about another invasive idea for a test that Damian would deal with later, when he could use his sword. “You better come back,” he said out loud. Why the hell would he demand things of her?

“I’d love to return if I’m invited.”

“When,” he told her.

She managed to smile again. “When.”

At this rate, there wouldn’t be a fucking when if this shit happens every time.

They left the room and Alfred led them to the car. He allowed the silence as she didn’t appear to want to talk. Maybe she wanted to relax? He wasn’t sure, so he didn’t start a conversation. Was he overthinking things? Weedkiller, he’d get the fucking weedkiller soon...

“The brothers I met were nice,” she began to talk suddenly, she must want a conversation. “They seem annoying-”

“You can say that again,” he grumbled automatically.

“-but they seem like decent brothers,” she finished. “They’re fun people too.”

Damian shrugged. “Sometimes.” Like when he’s using them for target practice.

There was more silence. But now he’s thinking, well wondering? He’s thinking and wondering and-

“Do you have secrets?” he asked suddenly and Fucking fuck fuck he shouldn’t ask that what the fuck he was mad at Drake for the invasive questions real fucking hypocritical of him huh- “You don’t have to tell me, obviously, but you’re aware that there are things I’m not comfortable telling you yet and-”

“I have secrets,” she interrupted his fucking worried rambling he would kill the worry he swears. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

Oh. That… To earn enough of her trust like that… Damian smiled slightly, even if it felt foreign on his face. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to, Angel. It’s only fair that I give you what you’re giving me.”

Marinette grinned wide. “Thank you.”

Maybe he could get a bit more used to smiling, seeing a smile like that…

“We have arrived,” Alfred said from the front seat. Damian was shocked, glanced out the window and- oh, they have arrived… he was disappointed, but only in his inability to realize himself. Nothing else. Nothing. At all. Nothing.

He got out with her, and a moment of clumsiness seemed to overtake her. She tripped over Damian’s feet.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry,” her accent was heavier, she must be struggling to speak a second language while… embarrassed?

“It’s alright Angel,” he should try to soothe the embarrassment, right? Is that how that worked? She seemed tense as he helped her up, and she turned to face him and- is she alright?

“Is something wrong?” he was worried.

“I’m okay,” she said, brushing off her knees. “I used to fall like that all the time, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I won’t.”

After some hesitation, she left. She walked back into the building, safe and unharmed. He got back into the car and Alfred drove them back to the manor.

oooOOOooo

It was easy to slip into the building unnoticed. Well, not unnoticed, the jester did kill the man behind the desk and leave him there. But he died with a smile on his face. They’d all die with a smile on their faces. And this would be fun for the jester too. the jester would have a lot of fun, so much fun, so much fun, a lot of so much fun you see…

The jester waited behind the desk with the lights off. Another girl was there. Not the one the jester wanted, no no not yet. But perhaps she’d join her little friend. The jester would get two. Have even more fun.

The jester grinned, hidden by the dark. But soon the jester wouldn’t be. And it would be so, so much fun.

#Damian Wayne #daminette #Damian al Ghul #Marinette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #maribat #fic #fanfic #writing #my writing

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martellthemandalor · 4 years

Text

Assistance - Chapter 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (No Y/N, reader is nicknamed)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drinking, violence

Rating: 15

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: Mando is curious of his new boss partner, you tell some believable truths

A/N: A lot of dialogue in this one! As always I’m open for feedback, enjoy :)

Masterlist!

Walking with the Mandalorian was akin to walking alone. He never made a sound, just walked alongside you, following your lead. You’d set your internal tracker to sync with the tracking fob signal, and through you eyeglass you could see the path you needed to walk. At the same time as showing the way it was constantly scanning the terrain, thin blue lines constantly passed across in front of your eye, mapping the land and sky. You’d been walking for about two hours, trekking across endless fields of red and yellow grass and along beaten tracks of dusty brown.

Detsak was primarily a farming planet, the city was the only densely populated area of the planet, built for the purpose of trade only, the buildings designed for shops, cantinas and places for merchants to stay. The rest of the planet’s inhabitants were scattered, living in smaller colonies, usually made up of just families, generations farming the same acres of land all living together. There was something quite peaceful about that, you thought.

Of course everything was different know, what was once a tidy and prospering world had turned quiet and overgrown. Grass grew long, bushes that lined the fields were unruly and stretched their branches out into the open space, and wildflowers that would usually have been uprooted by farmers ready for planting crops spread out across the land dotting pockets of vibrant colour underfoot.

It would be calming, it should be calming, instead anxiety fuelled every step you took. Everyone knows that Detsak isn’t as pleasant as it seems and most people who come here now are either desperate to hide or desperate to die. It’s a kind of peace you suppose, a very morbid and permanent peace, but still peace. The sun glared down at you, bathing the land in orange light.

You could understand why it had been nicknamed ‘The Burning World’, for when the sun shone down and touched the mottled red and orange tones of grass from above, the fields appeared to be aflame. Stars was it hot too, sweat was beginning the build under your layers of armour, thank the Maker you had changed into the lightest material you owned before leaving.

“You walk like a man,” The Mandalorian’s static tone cut through your thoughts. You turned your head to him, eyebrow cocked.

“And?” It wasn’t as if you hadn’t heard that said before, your abrupt reply was more out of shock that the Tin Can had taken notice of something as trivial as your walk of all things.

“It’s unusual,” he stated, looking at you and then back to the path ahead. You should have left the conversation there, he’s hardly the talkative type, but habit prevented you from doing so.

“The guild has always been prejudiced, elitist bastards. Reputation pays higher than skill, showmanship rewarded over risk and most of all men get paid buckets more than female…coworkers,” You rolled your eyes at that, a reflex to merely saying those words, “I learnt early on that if I wanted to make any decent amount credits then I needed to reinvent myself, and quickly. So I did. I cut my hair off, changed my walk and adjusted my clothes for the illusion of a bigger frame. Not so much to look like a man, to do that I’d need to change my face, but enough to cause ambiguity over my gender. Then I took jobs, and as I did a consistently good job at them the guild chose to see me as a male member, because obviously to them a woman couldn’t do a job as good as that, and who was I to contradict them? I was making good payments, bought new armour and upgraded Astrid more and more. Life was good.” You could feel a tension in your jaw forming, just remembering what happen filled you an internal quiet rage.

“What happened?” The Mandalorian prompted.

“Something stupid,” you replied through gritted teeth, “There’s a cantina on Janothla, the planet where I’m based, and they serve the most incredible drinks, I mean Maker above they make your head spin and your heart soar and they taste so damn delicious,” You were beginning to salivate at the mere memory at them, a small smile playing across your face, glancing over at the Mandalorian you were met with the emotionless beskar steel and it brought you back to reality. Clearing your throat you continued your story.

“It was my favourite place to frequent after a hard quarry, an easy place to drink and get distracted. One night after a really horrible hunt I had gotten particularly drunk. All I did was smile, it was a fucking smile at a girl sat across the bar from me, but it was enough for her boyfriend to come storming up to me, he grabbed my shoulder and forced me to look at him, pressing me into the edge of the bar, telling me ‘no one makes eyes at my girl ‘cept me, and especially not some low life man who makes a living off bounty hunting’. I snapped, kicked him in the dick and slammed him into the bar, pinned him to it by the throat and shouted ‘First of all mate I’m no banthashit man and second, if you don’t want your ass in carbonite you better show some more respect to a fucking guild member,’” You rubbed the bridge of your nose as you recalled what you had said. God you were such a drunken idiot. You heard a low chuckle next to you.

“Sounds like that bastard got what he deserved though.” You flashed a smile at him and hummed in agreement.

“Anyway, I didn’t realise my mistake until the next day, you can’t go to a bar like that and shout that loudly without attracting the attention of some guild member. I went to the usual spot to meet Grijib, my guild contact, and instead I was met by 4 senior guild members, who told me I had been lying to them, and they can’t mistrust like this in the guild, reputation is everything etc. as if the whole guild wasn’t built and made up of liars and murderers.” You caught him nodding at that, a silent agreement.

“Anyway they erased my profile of all my good kills, and bumped me down to entry level quarries. That was 6 months ago and they’ve been paying me less and less since then.”

Saying that made you feel so defeated, all your hard work had been destroyed over a stupid mistake. Things really hadn’t been getting any better apart from the guild sending to you the far reaches of the galaxy on long missions, you enjoyed the journeys, those long hours spent under the streaking lights of hyperspace, and the thrill of the hunt never changed, no matter how long it took to complete.

“That’s why you’re out here then. The guild sent you to a planet they washed their hands of to punish you,” He stated with a tone of, was that sympathy?

“Yeh.”

What you didn’t say is that it wasn’t the fact the odds of you getting killed out here were a lot higher, it really didn’t factor in at all, it was the fact that this planet surrounded with painful memories you so wanted to forget. The colours of flame licked all around you, it put you on high alert. You knew that this planet looked on fire from above, but it hadn’t prepared you for how much it also looked aflame from the ground. You hated it.

The silence resumed. It didn’t seem so easy to walk in it after he had now spoken; it was like he had woken up your senses to be constantly aware of him again. Your eyes kept shifting from following the path ahead to observing the statue of beskar next to you, Maker he must be dying in that thing. The helmet must have some kind cooling system because if you were in it you were sure you would have passed out by now.

“Why are you a bounty hunter” His voice once again drew you from your head. It was less of a question and more a statement, a demand almost. Two hours of silence and now he’s overcome with an urge to get to know you? Okay then.

“I grew up in the forests of Tarligh, just me and my family on our farm. We grew and traded in horned melons. Money was always a little tight so my father taught me and my sister to hunt so that we would always have food for the table no matter how little credits we had. He told me I picked it up like a pelikki to water, which was ironic given how many pelikki’s we shot out of the water,” You chuckled to yourself at this, throwing him a look over your shoulder, “It always made him proud how fast I’d learned and how often it was mine and my sisters kills that kept the family fed. Anyway, when the rebels put out the call for recruits, I knew I had to join. Father didn’t want me to go, but my mother put me on the first freighter out to the alliance base. I trained up and got good. Ours was one of the last bases targeted by the empire, and when it fell I lost faith in the cause. That’s when I turned to bounty hunting, easy money with skills I already had.”

The story rolled off your tongue so easily. You could see it happening in front of your eyes as you told it, living it vicariously as you formed the story. It was believable enough, no weirder than any of the other young recruit stories you’ve heard in bars over the years.

You remembered one girl who told you she’d grown up Tatooine and joined the rebel alliance after she saw a Jedi do a mind trick on some storm troopers, you were pretty sure she was lying but she was cute and talking to you so you didn’t really care.

“That’s one hell of a story, how often does that work?” He sounded almost impressed under that helmet. You stopped walking and just stared at him, eyebrow raised. He stopped a fraction of a second after you did, pivoting slightly to face you.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“I mean, how often does that lie work.” He questioned. You imagined he was smirking under there, even if his steady and blunt tone gave nothing away.

“They work as often as I want them to, it isn’t just that one, that one I made up just now,” you remarked.

“That’s impressive,” The Mandalorian nodded at you, “How many of those do you have.” You really are confused now, why does he keep asking, or stating you should say, questions?

“A few, there’s the one about coming from a family of bounty hunters, the one about breaking away from a wealthy family to ‘find myself’ and my personal favourite, I joined a spice smuggling ring after I lost my parents, toughened up and learnt to fight and fly while running in those people, then got out to become a bounty hunter,” You smiled at him, then continued walking, resuming following the virtual path in front of you.

Those are all stories you had come up with on your long flights to and from various quarry’s, being alone gave you plenty of time to get creative with them, letting yourself fill their shoes and live their lives. You prided yourself on your imagination, being a good liar required it; in fact it was the only thing being a good liar required. You remember talking to an old bounty hunter friend of yours who told you “You’re an imaginative liar with a death wish, and I honestly think that makes you one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy.” To this day you think it’s one of the nicest compliments you’ve ever had.

You’d been so wrapped up in the conversation and your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed the change of scenery. The open fields you’d been walking in had morphed into a forest, the glaring sun finally shielded away from you by a thick canopy of marmalade leaves.

The vibrant grass had shifted shades to a burnt umber and flowers that had littered the floor now confined themselves to pockets where the light consistently filtered through the foliage above. You took a deep breath, the air felt heavier under here, a nice weight that you welcomed. You relished in the smell of damp moss and wildflowers. If only the whole planet was made up of this, you thought, then maybe you wouldn’t hate it so much. You relaxed slightly. No immediate danger was showing up on your eyepiece and as far as you could tell you and Tin Can had been making good progress, so far so good then. You were however once again aware of him staring you. Rolling your eyes you glanced over at him.

“What?” You remarked, furrowing your brows.

“Is Shiryn your real name?” He inquired. There was standoffishness in his voice, as if he thought he shouldn’t ask you such a question. I mean who was he to question your name when you didn’t have any idea of his. You regarded him a second, wandering what he was thinking underneath that cold metal exterior, wandering what you should tell him. Names are a tricky business, they hold power in them, and it’s why you gave yours up after all.

“Yes,” You answered simply.

He nodded to himself and looked back ahead, as if something had just been confirmed to him. A pregnant pause fell between you, like he was waiting, daring himself to say something.

“You’re one hell of a liar,” He finally complimented. You smiled at that, a small genuine smile that hadn’t been seen by many. This was a new expression on you; it extended to your eyes, nose crinkling slightly. And this time you didn’t try to correct yourself back to your default guarded countenance, you let genuine expression beam out into the world for the first time in a long while.

“And you talk too much.”

Next Chapter

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